![]() And so, those ruby lens found themselves ever more use in these suns. Those large, feline eyes of vibrant magenta were hard to miss, after all. Eyes lingered upon her own oft enough, a curse of good breeding, she’d always thought, and of her Miqo’te heritage. A sincerity given lie with such expert efficiency she could hardly bring herself to think anything but the crystal of them. She knew why he wore them, of course, it helped to hide the insincere, no hint of a merchant’s smile, which never quite reached their eyes. Though the way he’d wound his words struck true, and she’d indulged in a slight spot of mummery, taking to the glasses, though these were made for a Miqo’te’s particular needs - a pinched nose was worth the ability to hide one’s eyes, or look ridiculous with more esoteric and ridiculous methods of keeping one’s glasses atop one’s face. ![]() The conversation had been brief, for talk of trade of silk and spice, of reagents and bread, nothing interesting. A Hyuran man whose eccentricities were only matched by the amount he spoke, a merchant true and true. Indeed, the glasses, and her interest in them, had stemmed from an encounter in a dim Hingan hostelry. It was an odd habit of hers, now, as her mind sifted through memories of the past few cycles, of time across the Crystal from Aldenard to Othard. Seeing all from behind ruby lens oft brought with it a comfort that she couldn’t quite place. Vashti Āl Hubasha - Thanalan - Seventh Astral Era She almost thought that perhaps, his voice had been her own. “If you do, if you are willing… Then, now, take my hand.”Īnd so she did, and she found that hand to be her own, and that volition, hers. She stood taller, though she also flickered with the selfsame sensation as the man before her. Vashti knew naught if it was of her own volition, or whoever had stood here in those ancient days of the distant Empire. His face slowly revealed itself to be one she knew, as if it only appeared there a moment prior, before it flickered away again, to be replaced moments later again with another that she too, knew. Though soon, she gazed down at her own hand, stretching, extending out to take that proffered palm with all the power, and freedom, that came with it. Something disturbed the mask, then, as if behind it’s black silk, his mouth writhed and flailed, but only for a moment. ![]() His words trailed, slowed, as though the gravity of the world pulled at his every word. “If you are willing to pay such a price… If you truly desire the power that an Immortal wields…” She noticed, now, that his face was indeed veiled, though he had no eyes to speak of. She didn’t take it, still stood upright, straight, her head as murky as the depths of the cave. He offered his hand, then, steady, welcoming. “Naturally so, such power comes at a price. Instead, his face was blank, bared, though it flickered and shimmered. When he turned, she expected to see only those blackened eyes she’d read so much about, the rest hidden behind a veil of jet. Water trickled and dripped, the only sound other than shifting boots of some long dead Immortal. ![]() Water seeped into her boots, vibrant blue, though she felt nothing of it. She stood, she noted, in some ancient ruin, pillars that were old when what was ancient now was young. She stood, suddenly, as the world seemed to have exploded into being only a moment prior. The words, accented in such familiar cadence, yet so starkly different from that Hannish harmony she knew ever too well, struck flattened ears. Of giving rise and voice to that power, that freedom, that you so covet.” “I stand before you, now, as one who holds the only key to unlocking your potential. ![]()
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