[He gives Kion the address, and it's a but of a tedious walk, either from the tavern's world-portals, or the docks for air and sea ships both. Beleth and Solas like their privacy, it would seem! The road Kion must walk passes through the Grey Ward, past the market stalls and places of business, past fine city manors in crowded residential districts, and finally out to where the city itself finally starts to peter out. On the east and west borders of the Ward, this would be farmland, and eventually another town, houses clustered like toys on the horizon, but this border of the chief city of the Dryad domain is forest, and trees grow thickly between houses here, such as that when one arrives at their house no other home is visible for the tree-cover.
It was a ruin when they found it, and is now a blocky, low-lying building, covered in murals and liberally festooned with greenery that overgrows the tiled roof. Painted halla are poised mid-run behind the fig-vines and silver-eyed wolves stare out from curtains of ivy, amongst deep violet glades and delicately-rendered wisps. The door stands open, flanked on one side by a black wolf and on the other a regal doe-Halla, and down a long hallway, the garden is a riot of color and life, the fountain bubbling cheerfully away.
Solas is there, his feet bare in the grass, hands folded behind his back, and dressed very humbly: pale blue robes in a comfortable cut, layered over a deeper blue tunic. His Visitor's gem, a sapphire, is knotted in twine and hanging from his neck when he feels Rook cross the wards, and turns.]
Rook. I trust you did not find the journey too arduous.
no subject
[He gives Kion the address, and it's a but of a tedious walk, either from the tavern's world-portals, or the docks for air and sea ships both. Beleth and Solas like their privacy, it would seem! The road Kion must walk passes through the Grey Ward, past the market stalls and places of business, past fine city manors in crowded residential districts, and finally out to where the city itself finally starts to peter out. On the east and west borders of the Ward, this would be farmland, and eventually another town, houses clustered like toys on the horizon, but this border of the chief city of the Dryad domain is forest, and trees grow thickly between houses here, such as that when one arrives at their house no other home is visible for the tree-cover.
It was a ruin when they found it, and is now a blocky, low-lying building, covered in murals and liberally festooned with greenery that overgrows the tiled roof. Painted halla are poised mid-run behind the fig-vines and silver-eyed wolves stare out from curtains of ivy, amongst deep violet glades and delicately-rendered wisps. The door stands open, flanked on one side by a black wolf and on the other a regal doe-Halla, and down a long hallway, the garden is a riot of color and life, the fountain bubbling cheerfully away.
Solas is there, his feet bare in the grass, hands folded behind his back, and dressed very humbly: pale blue robes in a comfortable cut, layered over a deeper blue tunic. His Visitor's gem, a sapphire, is knotted in twine and hanging from his neck when he feels Rook cross the wards, and turns.]
Rook. I trust you did not find the journey too arduous.