Last Cycle of Kalendryas, Season of Winter, Era XIV Post Fractum
ooc: if the timestamp doesn't work, it can be changed.
Just wanted to get the ball rolling here...
Relatives were a big pain in the behind. Lyr had begun to realize this from his encounters with his nanny's, Kenkuroi's, nearest and dearest - he'd only met them once, really, but that had been enough. It made him sort of glad that he'd never had any extended family, nor, for that matter, any close - and still living - family either. Lyr had never known his father; his mother he barely remembered, and even then he couldn't remember her name... only the image of a wan face with tearing blue eyes. That was about it.
All this didn't make him exactly happy that the pair, with Rose, had had to go off tearing through Arakmat on a wild-goose chase for a city which had, ostensibly, disappeared.
Cities don't disappear. If Lyr knew anything, he knew
that. Cities didn't
move, they didn't walk on either four or two legs, and hence it was sheer folly to believe that they could suddenly up and... away. It didn't make sense, and it was more than Lyr could understand that Kenkuroi had insisted they return to Silrosia, a place filled with elves and trees and family.
Though Val was nice.
But one pretty elf didn't a sound scheme make.
"Where the feth are we?" Lyr complained for the thousandth time, glancing about at the large trees - he disliked large trees, they all looked so much alike to his city-bred eye - and pounded away at the snow and old folliage crunching beneath his old boots. He'd left most of his newer clothing at home, and had only brought for himself what he had on him at the moment: namely, his brown linen shirt, a pair of his leather trousers, his boots, and his old black wool coat. His sword swung uselessly by his side, and a pack with Rose's things and several brightenings' worth of rations was slung across his shoulder.
"I knew this wasn't a good idea when we left Secyclion."
It was a bad idea. Lyr could feel it in his very bones - in the way the trees moved and the branches chuckled at him with every wintry breeze.