Antipracticality
06-01-09, 11:05 PM
There was a time and a place for everything, they said. As Camarie Delacour came up to the steps of the mighty ziggurat, it would seem that this was a time for sorrow. She couldn't even begin to pretend that she had no idea what this place was. The Civil War torn city had been mysteriously quiet when she'd entered, the first of several markets she passed through completely bare save for a few rotten fruits scattered on the dusty street. Even though Radasanth was bound to keep it's peace from a stranger in it's midst, she couldn't walk past a tavern without hearing whispers of a Palace of Pain, a Brothel that dealt in blood and bones.
Her feverish flight from Scara Brae had illustrated just how badly she needed to know how to wield the swordcane that her grandfather had given her. As she walked deliberately up each step to the mighty fortress, the end of the cane tapping gently with her steps, she became increasingly aware of a tiny voice, flimsy as weather beaten aluminum and just as scratched, screaming that this was a horrible, awful, no good idea. Her resolve was set, and it was easy to ignore. Standing up just a little straighter, snapping the navy suspenders against her white shirt as if they were going to slap some more spirit into muscles, she allowed herself to be shown to a door.
The stone walls were worn smooth down this hall, and a breeze from a mysterious source tickled the hairs that lay against the back of her neck. Her teeth clenching down on the wooden pipe, she adjusted her pork pie hat and reached out for the cold, smooth handle on the wooden portal. It swung open at her touch, the room beyond lit with such brilliance that she had to shade her eyes and only fully saw the room once she stepped in.
It was narrow, only wide enough for three large men to tromp side by side down it and long. Bright lights shone down, hot and fierce, reflecting on the whitewashed walls and the ivory floor ahead. Here and there she thought she saw smooth ebony bars spaced nearly evenly down the lane. Rocks? No, as she stepped forward, the ground beneath her gave way, shifted down at an angle and she had to grab the wall to keep from falling over. A deep resonating sound filled the room, vibrating everything and hurting her teeth. She squinted forward again, this time seeing the breaks in the ivory floor and realizing at once that she was standing upon giant piano keys. Each one was wide enough that two walking paces would be needed to cross it, and far on the other side of their expanse, she could see another door like the one she'd come in from standing shut. Carefully, she made her way across three more notes, wincing at the clamor she made as she dutifully began the first few sounds of a rudimentary scale.
Already her head was protesting, threatening to give her a headache if she stayed. However, as she turned, contemplating retreat before it was too late, the far door clicked and began to swing open.
Her feverish flight from Scara Brae had illustrated just how badly she needed to know how to wield the swordcane that her grandfather had given her. As she walked deliberately up each step to the mighty fortress, the end of the cane tapping gently with her steps, she became increasingly aware of a tiny voice, flimsy as weather beaten aluminum and just as scratched, screaming that this was a horrible, awful, no good idea. Her resolve was set, and it was easy to ignore. Standing up just a little straighter, snapping the navy suspenders against her white shirt as if they were going to slap some more spirit into muscles, she allowed herself to be shown to a door.
The stone walls were worn smooth down this hall, and a breeze from a mysterious source tickled the hairs that lay against the back of her neck. Her teeth clenching down on the wooden pipe, she adjusted her pork pie hat and reached out for the cold, smooth handle on the wooden portal. It swung open at her touch, the room beyond lit with such brilliance that she had to shade her eyes and only fully saw the room once she stepped in.
It was narrow, only wide enough for three large men to tromp side by side down it and long. Bright lights shone down, hot and fierce, reflecting on the whitewashed walls and the ivory floor ahead. Here and there she thought she saw smooth ebony bars spaced nearly evenly down the lane. Rocks? No, as she stepped forward, the ground beneath her gave way, shifted down at an angle and she had to grab the wall to keep from falling over. A deep resonating sound filled the room, vibrating everything and hurting her teeth. She squinted forward again, this time seeing the breaks in the ivory floor and realizing at once that she was standing upon giant piano keys. Each one was wide enough that two walking paces would be needed to cross it, and far on the other side of their expanse, she could see another door like the one she'd come in from standing shut. Carefully, she made her way across three more notes, wincing at the clamor she made as she dutifully began the first few sounds of a rudimentary scale.
Already her head was protesting, threatening to give her a headache if she stayed. However, as she turned, contemplating retreat before it was too late, the far door clicked and began to swing open.