Halyven
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R I X E N
"I see," Perhaps I did not sound too convinced, but I was quick to change the tone of those two words so the borderline between convinced-ness and thought became almost indistinguishable. I responded to the blue-tattooed stallion slowly, as if I were carefully evaluating the merit of his so-called title. Though it seemed strange to me, I took his explanation at face value and did not question it any further. Of course, I was secretly interested to know if there was more to it, but I had the manners to tell me when it was or was not appropriate to pry further. In this instance, I decided it better to back off the subject and found no trouble in steering our conversation, if you could call it that, toward my initial purpose for coming to Halyven. Unfortunately, Watcher couldn’t have known much more about the broken spires than I did, from the way he talked about them. "I’ve been told that Halyven was ripped into the Rift by a god. Although I do not think it came from Helovia, one cannot be certain. I myself am from neither Helovia nor here." I recounted the pieces of information that I’d picked up in my travels across the Rift, regurgitating the words without knowing whether Watcher was already aware of some of the things I was saying. At some point this came to mind, but was easily dismissed. He seemed to speak of the Rift as his home, an indication that he was born in these lands. This made me all the more interested in speaking to him, for I had never come across a native Riftian before. Not one that I’d known was a native, at least. Depending on his age, he had to have far more years experience living here than I did. The corners of my mouth turned down in a slight frown. It was a look of contemplation upon wondering whether Watcher would be willing to teach me anything about this place. Because the question was probably not if he had information to share, but whether he’d share it with me. By the level of enthusiasm in his voice, which was zero to none, the buckskin came off as gruff in both appearance and demeanor. This made me a little reluctant to directly ask him if he’d mind doing so. Having reached a sort of impasse in my mind, I continued to talk about Halyven, which wasn’t difficult considering my level of fascination with the place. "I must disagree with you and say that I quite like this place. In a way, it is almost like a sculpture of nature..." My voice was steady and smooth, polite despite the difference in our opinions. History lived here with the cracked stone paths and crumbling spires. A shadow of its former glory, worn by time and nature, the city was almost locked in another time, visible but somehow dislocated from the here and now. Halyven had a story, one I wanted to know someday. Even if I never knew its story, I'd rather walk among these ancient walls, imagining, fantasizing, thinking of ways to repair them than sitting safely somewhere else in the Rift. Looking to Watcher, my bright green gaze took notice of the small mechanical spider that crawled up to fix his mane, following the contraption as it tucked the strand neatly back into place. "Did you craft the spider?" As it often was when asking questions, my inquiry was laced with genuine interest as I scanned the other spiders crawling about his back. Hopefully the question would elicit more of a response. "Talk." they heard me singing and they told me to stop quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock |
