Avicularia
02-02-15, 09:50 PM
The problem with traveling by boat was that it was nothing at all like she had imagined. Somehow when she had first stepped onto the small clipper, she had imagined the hull cutting a swath across the sea, wake flying behind them and a smooth jolt hurtling them forward. However, the boat churned forward laboriously until it finally crawled into the dock. Her first sight of Corone was the murky waters tossing about beneath her as she vomited into the ocean froth. Somehow, she felt as if nothing here would be as she expected. It was good that she didn't have many expectations to begin with.
The village she’d grown up in was mostly human but the architecture was mostly elven. She’d lived her whole life with human touches and traditions being none too in vogue, but when she could finally navigate the docks upright and push past the warehouses, her eyes lit up with glee. A professor of hers had once pointed out that dwarves built homes that felt like the mountains while elves built homes that felt like the woods. The natural world was just simple a part of their worlds in ways that humans couldn’t understand. Here was the proof that maybe he had been right. Homes and businesses were strapped together from steel, wood, and stone. She stared at a slate apothecary with beams of wood that slashed across the second floor walls, framing windows and zig zagging away. She marveled at shingles, and how they looked like dragon’s scale. She was taken away by the thatching some roofs had, and how different it was from the braided branches that crowned her own childhood home.
It didn’t take her long to figure out the way the inns were spaced through the city. The cheapest rooms were circled around the docks with the accommodations growing quieter and more expensive as they spread outward to the outskirts of the city. She chose something reasonably in between. The cobbles outside of the small hostel weren’t terribly worn, perhaps having been replaced relatively recently. The rooms had a small wood burning stove and a water pump, as well as a small desk whose single drawer was stocked well with candles. For ten gold she could stay the month. After settling the account and pulling her small trunk into the room she washed and changed, grateful for a way to make the hot herbal tea she washed her mouth out with. The taste of sickness was gone, and in clean clothes she felt refreshed.
“Now, “ she said to herself, plucking at a tangle in the mass of curls on her head, “I need to find myself a library.” She felt something in herself spark at the idea of accessing tomes upon tomes of local history. She didn’t feel much like the slip of a student she’d been for the last 7 years. She felt more like an adventurer. Although, she supposed, most adventurers might not start their days and their tales by stepping out of their rooms to ask for directions.
The village she’d grown up in was mostly human but the architecture was mostly elven. She’d lived her whole life with human touches and traditions being none too in vogue, but when she could finally navigate the docks upright and push past the warehouses, her eyes lit up with glee. A professor of hers had once pointed out that dwarves built homes that felt like the mountains while elves built homes that felt like the woods. The natural world was just simple a part of their worlds in ways that humans couldn’t understand. Here was the proof that maybe he had been right. Homes and businesses were strapped together from steel, wood, and stone. She stared at a slate apothecary with beams of wood that slashed across the second floor walls, framing windows and zig zagging away. She marveled at shingles, and how they looked like dragon’s scale. She was taken away by the thatching some roofs had, and how different it was from the braided branches that crowned her own childhood home.
It didn’t take her long to figure out the way the inns were spaced through the city. The cheapest rooms were circled around the docks with the accommodations growing quieter and more expensive as they spread outward to the outskirts of the city. She chose something reasonably in between. The cobbles outside of the small hostel weren’t terribly worn, perhaps having been replaced relatively recently. The rooms had a small wood burning stove and a water pump, as well as a small desk whose single drawer was stocked well with candles. For ten gold she could stay the month. After settling the account and pulling her small trunk into the room she washed and changed, grateful for a way to make the hot herbal tea she washed her mouth out with. The taste of sickness was gone, and in clean clothes she felt refreshed.
“Now, “ she said to herself, plucking at a tangle in the mass of curls on her head, “I need to find myself a library.” She felt something in herself spark at the idea of accessing tomes upon tomes of local history. She didn’t feel much like the slip of a student she’d been for the last 7 years. She felt more like an adventurer. Although, she supposed, most adventurers might not start their days and their tales by stepping out of their rooms to ask for directions.