The Perfect Storm [Open to everyone]

[Tarot]

'... and before the turn of these ten-times-ten-eras, the island-worlds will bear witness to three storms; one long, one hard and one raging in the hearts of man-of-clay...'
-the Oracle of Chelseanna, public prophecy to the people of Chelseanna, #11, issued on Optia 32, 10214 and published on the city archives later that month

Ioannes 45, Summer of Era 14 PF

"What the Aeternia...?"

Someone's fancy hat and powdered wig were lost to the mounting fury of the monsoons. The wind had been picking up throughout the darkening and the early part of the brightening. Dark clouds were gathering over the Northern part of the Eunesian archipelago. Rainstorms were frequent at the end of the summer seasons in the vicinities of Chelseanna, but no-one in living memory could recall such an immense and thick layer of dark clouds. News spread early in the morning that ferries from and to the mainland and the rest of Eunesia were suspended till the end of this bout of horrible weather. Heavy raindrops had been tickling the limestone roofs of Port Chelseanna throughout the darkening, with no end in sight.

There were relatively few tourists in town these brightenings, as most studied the weather patterns of the island before choosing the timing of their visits. Those who remained were for the most part old, retired bachelors and spinsters with a considerable wealth who spent most of the era on Chelseanna anyway and were sort of adopted citizens. From their bungalows and limestone houses, everyone just waited patiently for the worst to pass, just weathering the storm as they always did.

Yet the storm did not pass nor fade. If anything, it kept growing stronger and more violent by the candlemark, the wind howling in the streets. One of the downsides to the perfect acoustics that Port Chelseanna enjoyed, was that it magnified every sound, including the furious hiss of the North wind.

And finally, shortly after mid-brightening, a bell rang throughout the Port. Its source was actually no larger than a human finger, a diminutive bell like those you could see on a cat's collar, yet since it was being shook by a man standing on the most sensitive part of the Speaker's Podium, its ringing was amplified to the extreme and reached every house, together with the voice of the Speaker. The Podesta himself, Laertes Vidocai, Thane of Chelseanna.

"Citizens of Chelseanna," the Podesta's voice boomed, a man holding a large umbrella over him to protect the both of them from the heavy rain, "please congregate in an orderly fashion into the Piazza del Mare for a Town Assembly. It is a matter of the utmost urgency... thank you for your cooperation. I repeat, please congregate..." and it went on and on, accompanied by the sound of the bell.

***

On the other side of the island, standing on an old, decrepit balcony half-invaded by rampant, wild vegetation just like the rest of the dilapidated manor, Beniamino Sciacca laughed hysterically, his six eyes blinking simultaneously. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world...

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

Eren had remained, predominantly, nestled within his bungalow along the shorefront, watching the crashing waves slam against the sandy grains of the beach, accentuated by large cracks of lightning or the rolling baritone of the thunder that soon followed.

A peek through the glass paned windows comfortably surrounded by a variety of small plants and trees confirmed his suspicions as he leaned over the back of the plush blue futon couch, the rain had not let up, and seemed to not be intent upon doing so for quite some time. Mumbling underneath his breath as his hand rubbed over the dark red mahogany frame, Eren cast one more glance out the dreary window pitter pattered with raindrops before returning to his book, almond-shaped orbs roving over the loopy elven script of some long lost hero or another returned from Trelore bent on saving the world from an inexplicable famine. Thank Phedos these fictional troubles didn’t plague the Empire on a regular basis.

Yet the rain did not desist, not even candlemarks later when he awoke drowsily from his position on the couch and walked over to the small beige stone countertop to tear himself a chunk of bread. Chewing on the crust casually as he glanced outside the glass window encased within the wooden door, he munched and stared at the heavy sheets of rain sweeping across the small wooded copse of trees that met with the beach, the maddening sway of the palms and the limber leaning of the not-so-supple trunks. Mumbling to himself again, he left the crust of bread on the counter and departed to use the porter chamber.

A candlemark later found him watering the plants inside his home in a conventional manner – the use of a small rustic brown pot filled with rainwater after having sitting on the small wooden patio outdoors proving most helpful as he stumbled around the small living room. Opening the door and wincing at the sudden overwhelming downpour of rain that washed over his ears, he tossed the pot out onto the sand (practically mud) before walking back inside and stretching his arms laconically over his head, stifling a yawn and scratching the back of his neck. Gazing about his apartment, he found the book he’d been reading earlier and marked his page before placing it on the coffee table. Moving to close a pair of shutters, he caught the consistent drizzle of water from the gutters along the rafters of the bungalow and mumbled something incoherent.

In fact, the Master Elementalist was doing quite a bit of mumbling as he trotted towards the city, a light shield of hard air cast about him as a shield to keep him dry. The wind seemed to whip about him, slicing at the world it gushed through like a spirited swordsman hell bent on wrecking havoc on the world below. It almost very nearly drowned the words of the Podesta, Eren had come to learn he was the Thane (and Aedile, among other things) upon the small isle, which advertently summoned quite the flock of townspeople walking towards the Piazza.

Shuffling his hands into the dark royal blue robes he’d donned before leaving the house, and quietly mumbling to himself questioning after whether or not he’d locked the front door, the Elflord quietly maneuvered along the outside edges of the growing crowd of people to see what the cause of commotion was.

Aside from the storm.

[Ythri Drega Dun]

Storms didn't bother Ythri. After all, she had lived much of her life in the water, and there wasn't much difference to her between being underneath it and being rained on. And yes, it was cold, but the cold also wasn't of particular concern to her. The wind reminded her of the waves that crashed on the shore near her childhood home. The roof of her small house here in Chelseanna seemed to be holding, and as long as that was the case, the half-sea elf saw little reason for concern.

She did, however, hear the summons to a meeting. These people here in the Islands certainly had strange ideas if they were planning on holding outdoor meetings in a blinding rainstorm; though Ythri didn't much care one way or the other, she was well aware that her opinion was a minority one. What could possibly be so important that it would require people who didn't share her aquatic heritage to endure this kind of weather?

Even though she was staying here at the moment, she didn't really consider herself a citizen of Chelseanna, per se. Nonetheless, her curiosity was strong, and she quickly slipped outside of the small house. She didn't take an umbrella or anything of the kind. The feel of the heavy rain on her skin and the wind whipping her hair made her smile.

She walked quickly to the Plaza del Mare, her long strides covering the distance easily. When she arrived, she slipped carefully into the back of the crowd. At least the acoustics were such that she'd still be able to hear, despite the tumult of the storm. This, the girl believed to be a positive thing. She stood still and waited for the man who had called the meeting to explain more fully what exactly was going on.

[Tarot]

There was quite an impressive line-up of Chelseannan authorities standing next to the Podesta as he kept delivering his summons to the islanders. The Podesta was a large man - that was the easiest way to define him. Everything about him was big, from head to toe, his face somewhat rugged and yet still managing to come across as handsome. The man holding his umbrella was, by contrast, thin as a rail, with an elongated face and a deep dark moustache covering his lip; he was not wearing a white wig, either.

The next man, standing behind Podesta Vidocai, was deathly pale and rather strange-looking. His umbrella was being held by a young girl with an adoring look on her face that seemed to be enthusiastically catering to his every need, though he barely paid her any attention. He chain-smoked throughout the 'call to arms', cheap cigarettes that regularly ended up squashed beneath his foot. His wig was well-kept and he was wearing dark spectacles, but behind those were pink eyes. Even amidst dark and foul weather, the albino's eyes needed the protection of smoked lenses. A violin case was flung across his back.

A woman stood with the rigidity of a nun, accepting the heavy rain as a punishment without trying to shield herself. She was in her fourties perhaps, never been beautiful but gifted with startling hazel eyes. Her dark gown was a rather shocking contrast to the bright-colored attire of most Chelseannans, and she was wearing a golden necklace in the shape of an eye. Next to her a young, lean olive-skinned man rested with the trademark cockiness of great fencers, not bothered by the rain as it fell upon his wide-brimmed and plumed hat, hand casually touching his Chelseannan rapier, unmistakable due to its elaborate basket hilt.

Other people filled the area of Piazza del Mare reserved for the authorities. When the square was reasonably filled, a figure stepped near the Podesta. He was a middle-aged man with a paternal face made for smiling but currently unable to do so. He nodded at Vidocai, who returned the nod and began his speech.

"Citizens and guests of Chelseanna," the Podesta spoke under the heavy rain, "I am sorry to be the harbinger of such appalling news. The Kalendryan Observatory located on the central tower of Castle Chelseanna has spotted what appears to be a hurricane of devastating proportions with their telescopes. It originated well North of the Medonian continent and is traveling at an incredible speed..." There was a short pause. "It is headed this way."

Murmurs began to fill the Piazza del Mare. While storms were not uncommon in the summer, such an assembly over one was unprecedented. "According to the luminous Photosemic messages we have received from the Tower, we have somewhere between one and two candlemarks to prepare ourselves for the incoming storm. We believe this to be the second of three Storms that the Sacred Oracle prophetized thirty eras ago, the first being the Great Tempest that isolated Olympia from the rest of the world for over an era."

The murmurs rose and took on the tints of fear, though the Chelseannans were remarkably orderly compared to their mainland equivalents. "Please," Vidocai cut the protest short, "we are running out of time and we need to prepare. It is quite possible that the whole island will be struck. We will have to break the seals."

At the mention of breaking the seals the whole audience froze. The icy woman smirked. The albino violinist yawned, as if still fighting the latest hangover. This was quite possibly one of many things the people of Chelseanna would rather not talk about, especially to foreigners. "Meanwhile, if any of you would like to volunteer to help with the evacuation effort, or is willing to lend assistance in any way, please talk to Miss Kalpas here. May the gods have mercy upon us." And with that, the Podesta stepped away from the Podium. Ibizia Kalpas, soaking wet but uncaring, stood there for anyone who would approach her. Meanwhile, fencers from the Delot academy mingled with the crowd to assist and make sure whatever evacuation was being planned happened in a calm and orderly fashion, though there was no indication yet as to where people would be evacuated to.

[Ythri Drega Dun]

Ythri was only able to follow about half of the pronouncement that seemed to be the reason for this rather unusual gathering. Photosemic messages meant nothing to her, and although everyone around her seemed to know what "breaking the seals" was all about, to the half-sea elf the words might as well have been in Ancient Aelyrian for all the information that they conveyed to her.

What she did understand was that a wicked storm was coming, one that apparently was going to do a great deal of damage to this town, or at least was expected to. She felt a small twinge of regret at the thought of her house here being destroyed -- it represented most of the collateral she had, after all, and if she was going to finance the rest of her journey, she could ill-afford to lose it. But these thoughts were quickly swept aside by the last thing that the speaker had said.

Because of her heritage, Ythri was well-equipped to help in this kind of work. She was in much less danger than most people, because even if she were somehow swept out to sea, she wouldn't necessarily be in trouble. Her gills weren't perfect, but she could breathe underwater for a good half-brightening before she would need to surface. Something that land-dwellers rarely understood was that even the worst storms hardly penetrated below the surface of the sea, and she would be able to move freely and easily if she were simply to swim a few tens of feet down.

As soon as she was sure that the speech was over, she made her way toward the sopping wet woman who had been identified as Miss Kalpas. The tall young woman gave a friendly smile, one that almost seemed incongruously cheerful given the circumstances. "My name's Ythri, and I'd be happy to lend whatever help I can," she said.

She was not, however, entirely certain what the best way for her to help would be, and so she waited for Miss Kalpas to give her directions. Ythri was every bit as wet as Miss Kalpas, but as this was a natural state for her, she remained resolutely unconcerned by it.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

If there was anything Erenthril could say about Chelseanna, it was that the small port city contained the oddest, wildest bunch of authorities he’d seen contrasting one another since the day he’d walked pass the odd travelling Arakmat festival caravan ran by a handless Cether. Studying each of the prominent figures with a scrutinizing eye, the Elf place their positions and titles together given the various items and equipment they wore. The albino must have been the head maestro at the conservatorio or some other fancy musical academy Erenthril was unsure of. The young, olive-toned man was obviously someone of importance from the fencing academy. But what Erenthril could not place, unfortunately, was the woman. He had no idea whom she was, what powers she held, and better yet, just what her role in this whole scheme of things happened to be.

Erenthril’s gaze floated back to the Podesta when the man began speaking.

And the news could not have been more terrible.

A hurricane of devastating proportions moving at incredible speed. Great. The Elf smiled ruefully at this turn of luck. Turning to one of the native Chelseannans beside him, picking them out from the stunned dumbfounded tourists, he reached over and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder to ask and make his voice heard, “What do the seals do?”

Waiting until he had achieved such information, or been slapped in the face for such an impudent question – both of which seemed likely in this oddball turn of events – the Elementalist debated his options. He had several:

One, and the most obvious, was to assist in the evacuation. But that depended on just what the seals did, and how much time he had. His talents were quite different from the rest of the individuals around him, that was certain, but the Elf didn’t have the slightest idea of what to tell Miss Kalpas, and whether or not it was wise to reveal himself.

Two, he could tackle the hurricane directly. Change the direction of the storm, perhaps, so that it brushes around the island. Maybe tamper with the underwater currents to stall its progress. Summoning a hurricane was a journeyman spell, pushing its direction out of the way? It seemed doable, though again, Eren would need to know what the seals did and what role they played in this. They seemed vaguely important.

Three, he could save his own arse and head for the mainland by himself. The flight would take only a few short candlemarks given he’d have to circumvent the hurricane, but it was nice to know one always had a back up plan for escape. He would have to use this option before the monstrosity arrived though, lest the winds be too great for him to manage.

And…four. The Oracle. She had prophesized to him once before, and although her role here was rather distant – thirty eras ago was quite a long time – he was rather certain she could continue to play some part in this growing fiasco. The question was, was he up to seeing the poor child revert back to her howling self, and would she be willing to help him again?

Shaking his head, Erenthril realized his chief rival for the time being: time itself.

Gently pushing his way through the crowd, Erenthril found a secluded spot before quickly creating a cloud of hard air and gliding up towards The Kalendryan Observatory on the central tower. He would speak with these men and women, figure out what the storm’s location was, how powerful it seemed, how fast it was moving, and then base his ultimate decision with a more plethoric supply of knowledge.

[Tarot]

The seals? The woman the Elflord asked simply shrugged, having more immediate concerns than small talk. "An old story, some kind of protection," she just said, "I didn't even think it was true."

Ibizia Kalpas seemed unimpressed with the lack of volunteers other than the fencers from the Delot Academy. She had always suspected the islanders were just a bunch of weaklings behind all their bravado. The woman stood tall and proud in the rain, hazel eyes betraying the unforgiving nature of the Chelseannan. She did smile at Ythri as she approached, though it could have been considered a smirk depending on the watcher. It was ironic indeed that a female and an obvious foreigner had to be the first to volunteer her help.

"Thank you, Ythri. I am Ibizia Kalpas, Chelseannan Councillor of Improvement," she said. "We have two tasks for people to help us with. One is the evacuation proper... there are certainly people still in their homes, old people, bedridden people, maybe children. We need to go through each and every house and make sure everyone has been brought here to the Piazza del Mare for evacuation. But we're also going to need help here when Vidocai breaks the seals, to make sure everything runs smoothly. Look."

The big man called the Podesta, or Thane, Laertes Vidocai, was handed a scroll tube by one of his assistants. He received it with a nod, opening it while still standing by the Speaker's podium. The tube seemed to contain an old scroll of high-quality parchment, penned in an ancient-looking handwriting.

"This scroll was compiled by the great scholar, mage and architect who saved Port Chelseanna about nine centuries ago, the Enlightened Sage Al-Halemmar who single-handedly reconstructed our Porto. It was given to us, only to be used in the event of something as dire as what we are witnessing today. I will now break the seals."

And then he began to read, the words echoing throughout the streets of Port Chelseanna. It was a completely unfamiliar language to Ythri, and judging by the looks on people's faces, to everyone else as well. But something happened, the air seemed to almost grow electric with the energy of the sounds.

Suddenly, an ancient mechanism awakened, and a whole building looking on to the Piazza del Mare literally slid a few meters back. There were now almost as many open mouths as there were people. Even the Chelseannan leadership, who knew of this, had never actually seen it in action.

But the building shifting back revealed a long staircase leading down, into the bowels of the island. The Thane had broken the seals.

Meanwhile, Erenthril levitated towards Castle Chelseanna. Even with the protection of his Hard air, the flight was considerably rough, vibrations shaking his shield and propagating inside. As it was, it proved more of a nuisance than anything else, though without his defenses, chances were the Elf would have been tossed all over the place by the raging winds that got stronger and stronger as he rose in the air.

He could see something build up, far away on the horizon. Not quite an immediate danger yet, but one drawing near. The Great Tempest had rocked the waters of Olympia for months, and it seemed that this storm would be unleashing the same order of energy in a period of candlemarks at most. A wall of black clouds was where the world seemed to end if one looked North, only lit by the occasional lightning bolt.

It had been centuries since the Duchess Chelseanna had lived in the castle, which was now one of the island's touristic attractions. Instead of simply restructuring the place to perfection, it had been decided to give it a studied appearance of old age. If one could ever think about polished ruins, Castle Chelseanna would be that place. The ivy that had invaded two of the towers was there on purpose, and the section of the outer walls that had seemingly collapsed a long time ago had been laid out in the original project - every stone rested exactly where it was meant to be.

The Castle itself was rectangular, with a tower guarding each corner, another in the middle of each length of walls, and the tallest one, the Central Tower. Here was the Kalendryan Observatory. Normally tourists paid to come up here, the Stargazers tolerating the visitors a few candlemarks each brightening in return for cold, hard cash. The Central Tower was the highest vantage point on the island, its top currently occupied by two men. One seemed to be relaying messages from the top floor below, running up and down narrow corkscrew stairs, and the other was shaking a very intense and bright-colored lantern for people elsewhere on Chelseanna to see. Light-based semaphoric communication. This second man was anchored to the tower with a chain to keep the wind from just tossing him away. The lantern must be a truly ingenious creation, to keep working in this state of things.

"Heeeeey!" he screamed, his own hair in his mouth, red robes fluttering in the wind and unimpressed with Erenthril's aerial arrival. "What the feth are you doing down there in the Port? We've been telling you guys to move it! The Castle is the safest place on the island and at this rate they'll never..." A gust of wind silenced him, and he just cursed, almost losing the lantern in the process.

[Ythri Drega Dun]

Ythri watched in stunned silence as the building adjoining the plaza moved, revealing a stairway down into what she could only assume was some sort of shelter. If that was their evacuation plan, she had to admit that it was one that ought to be more than adequate.

When she was able to speak again, she turned back to Ibizia. "I'll be happy to help with the search, to make sure that everyone is safely evacuated." It seemed to her that her talents would be of better use in that portion of the process, despite her overwhelming curiosity regarding the newly-revealed stairway. Of course, she thought, if all went according to plan, she would eventually be able to satisfy that curiosity, since she too would be on her way down the stairs once the search operation was finished.

She waited to see if Ibizia had any particular instructions. If she did, Ythri would follow them; if not, the half-Telera would simply start down the closest street, knocking on the doors and listening for any sign of anyone who needed to be evacuated. All of her senses were at full attention.

Time was wasting. The storm was drawing close. She was as unconcerned as ever for herself, but she had a keen desire to make sure that everyone else on this island was prepared for what was coming.

[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

OOC: Many apologies for the delay.

Erenthril seemed to buck and toss like a ship out at sea as he travelled the air currents, propulsion probably the only thing keeping him on a somewhat-straight course as he drafted about in the sky like a kite in a breeze. A quick glance to his left confirmed a blurry object slowly building on the horizon. It seemed to be…strengthening. The eye of the storm? A hurricane? …no wonder the Podesta was so concerned. The wall of clouds was even more ominous, and instinctively the Syl’rosyian Elflord felt as if he owed something to these people. He felt a challenge brooding quietly in his midst, the walls presenting an obstacle to his spell shaping abilities. Perhaps he could save them. Perhaps he could save all of them. Yet it was Mother Nature he would be confronting, and this was of the natural sort rather than anything magical. The Oracle had predicted as much. His mind paused, tracing back to her. Would she survive the encounter? In that poorly carved stone hovel she called a home? She was just as much at risk as the rest of them.

He sketched a mental note to go and find her, bring her to safety as soon as he could.

Erenthril bit his lip and continued to strive forward, the parapets of the Castle and the Kalendryan Observatory slowly coming into view as he closed the distance between him and the tower. The Central Tower was the tallest point in Chelseanna, and Erenthril marveled at the two figures upon it at this very moment. The lantern was nothing short of ingenuity to still be functioning so well in such inclement weather, and as the Elementalist landed, he immediately set forward towards the screaming man in red. His brow furrowed a bit at the manner of his speech – the Castle was the safest place? What was it with those seals then? Shaking his head, he quickly ducked and tried to lower his center of gravity as he jogged up to the man.

“The Podesta is breaking the seals! They’re going to evacuate!” he yelled, voice deeper than it usually was as a bellow of air escaped his lungs.

[Tarot]

Ibizia seemed pleased with Ythri's answer, or as pleased as the woman could ever be. The slight curl of her lips was all the indication of her satisfaction. "Excellent," she said, "the Docks and surrounding areas should be fully evacuated within a few minutes by our fencers. What we cannot fully cover ourselves is the Plata, however. The residential district, that way." The Councilwoman pointed a long, slender arm towards one of the streets winding off Piazza del Mare. "Good luck," she said briefly, before stepping away to give similar instructions to a few more volunteers that had finally started to congregate for the same reason.

In the meantime, the assembled townsfolk began descending into the depths of the stairway, assisted by the fencing militia. Master Montago played a soft tune on his violin to calm them down and ease the evacuation.

If Ythri followed Ibizia's instructions, she would soon discover a new Chelseanna - deserted, virtually abandoned. Only the wind hissed on the street, mounting more and more as the storm neared. Lightning bolts cracked the sky, followed by roaring thunder, the gap between the two shortening every time. After the first minute or two, there was literally no-one in sight, and the girl was alone with the baroque limestone buildings of the town, with their strange quirks, the faux doors and windows, the optical illusions, the secret gardens. Ythri's only companion was a rather ugly stray cat that had clearly seen better brightenings. It meowed at her ungracefully, though with a strange stubbornness to its voice, as if wishing to attract her attention. And in doing so, the cat seemed to be pointing at one of several houses in the residential district. A two-story building just like most of the others, nothing really stood out about it - save that the door was slightly ajar.

Meanwhile, Erenthril had different business on his hands. The man with the lantern looked at him as if he were from a different Plane of Existence. Looking at him, it was apparent that he did not hail from Chelseanna. No, he was too pale and his body structure reminded of Medonians, and Southerners at that. Still, he motioned for Erenthril to follow him. " I have no idea what you're talking about, but come with me!" he barked, clinging to his chain as he approached the door and opened it, taking the first few steps down the corkscrew stairs. Only then did he release the chain, as he did not enjoy the kind of protection that the Elf did.

The stairs were dimly lit, and after a few turns they ended with a trapdoor. The Kalendryan opened the hatch and climbed down the following ladder, his feet now firmly planted on the floor of a circular room filled with half a dozen scholars dressed in similar robes. One of them was jotting down calculation at a table, a map of Eunesia open in front of him. Two more were discussing astrological matters. 'So, what can you tell from this chart?' one asked. 'Ah, well,' the other said, 'you may very well be dying today, but if you don't, you will meet a beautiful stranger next cycle.'

"Boss, this man came flying and said they are evacuating the Port, that Vidocai's broken some sort of seals," the first Kalendryan said, approaching what seemed to be the leader. He was a man in his fourties, with little remaining hair that he tried to enhance with a poor combover. "Seals?" He repeated, his bespectacled grey gaze falling on the Elf. Erenthril would notice that these were all mainlanders.

Another Kalendryan came running to him, almost trampling the one who had escorted Erenthril. "Stellar Zakarov, this man speaks the truth! The people gathered in Piazza del Mare are going down a staircase that just wasn't there before! What are your orders?"

Zakarov pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. A pin, shaped like a small coin, decorated his robes. His nose was angular and spoke of great determination. Here was a man who talked little and thought much. "Now, now, isn't this interesting news? The things Vidocai wouldn't tell us. But where did I put my manners? Welcome to our Observatory, sir. My name is Nikita Zakarov. Is there anything we can do for you?"

[Ythri Drega Dun]

Ythri had a feeling that Ibizia's approval was hard to obtain, and so she was willing to take what she could get. Very quickly, she was off in the direction in which she had been pointed, her long legs moving her quickly over the now-empty streets.

She looked down at the cat, and though it didn't look like much, she was in a way grateful for its company. As the lightning gave its flickering illumination to the abandoned city and its unorthodox buildings, she was glad not to be alone, even if her only companion was a stray animal.

As it meowed, however, she slowed down. "Is that your home?" she asked, more from force of habit than because she expected some sort of answer. The girl looked dubiously at the building, which didn't look much different than any of the others, unless you counted the fact that the door hadn't been closed properly.

Nonetheless, it wouldn't take her long to find out, so she walked quickly up to the porch. She rapped twice on the open door, and then called into the building. "Serale! Is there anyone here? The city is being evacuated!"

Ythri wasn't much sure she was expecting an answer. Nonetheless, if she got one, or if she saw another sign that someone might be left in the building, she would see what she could do to offer some help. That was, after all, what she had volunteered to do. At the very least, if someone was here, they'd probably be glad to have their cat back, for sentimental reasons, if not aesthetic ones.

If it looked like the building was abandoned after all, however, she'd shut the door and head further down the street. There was a lot of ground to cover, after all, and judging by the sound of the thunder, she didn't have much time before the full force of the storm hit.

[Tarot]

Ythri

As the half-elf gave two quick knocks on the door of this particular house, the answer was soft, but still distinctly audible. It was a male voice, perhaps a man in his late middle age. The sound came from inside the house, but not right across the door. "Evacuated?" Had the voice been more lively, one might have called it sarcastic. Maybe it would have been, at a different time. Now there was some residual irony in it, like the embers of a fire that had since died off. "Leave me alone. Go find someone who wants your help, I sure don't. How in all of Aeternia did you open that door anyway? Should've been locked."

It would be easy for Ythri to peek into the house... the gap in the door was large enough that she wouldn't really stand a choice, and the scene would be right in front of her. The cat had stopped meowing now.

The house had been nice, but clearly it had not been looked after in a while. The man sat sideways to Ythri's location, his chair simple, but well crafted. He sat there, his gaze lost in front of himself and into the opposite wall. There were bookshelves in the room, and even some actual books, an expensive enough commodity to imply belonging to the middle class, as did the man's clothing. He was just as old as his voice made him to be. He was pale for an islander, though he had their somatic traits, a sizeable nose, full lips, an average build. He might as well have been a wax statue as he stared at the painting on the wall, all Aeternia raging outside the house.

Ythri would probably never know how flattering the painter had been, but the woman in the portrait radiated beauty and warmth even in her forties. Her smile was full and her graying hair fell down with a hint of youthful mischief. The man could not avert his gaze from the painting.

He was clutching a long, sharp kitchen knife with both hands, knuckles white with the strength of his grip.

The blade was aimed at his own chest.

[Ythri Drega Dun]

It took Ythri only a fraction of a second to take in the situation. She wasn't entirely sure what to do -- if she were a more advanced student, she could probably talk the man down by using her Song skills, but she certainly didn't have ten minutes available in which to attain clara.

"Maybe you don't want my help," the girl said, "and that's your choice. But someone else wants your help." She reached down and, if it didn't run away, scooped the cat up into her arms.

"Your cat brought me here," Ythri said. She was taking a bit of a chance assuming that it was his cat, but why else would it have led her to this building? "We've only known each other for a few minutes," she added, a smile creeping onto her face despite the gravity of the situation, "but I'm fairly sure it's worried about you."

As she was speaking, she walked a bit closer, though she did so only cautiously. She wanted to keep the man talking, to see if she could at least delay any untimely action on his part. "My name's Ythri," she said. "The storm is almost here, and it's bad enough that they've broken the seals." This phrase had seemed to get a rise out of the crowd in the Plaza, and so she repeated it to the man, hoping it might at least pique his curiosity, and perhaps momentarily distract him.

She thought about asking him about the painting, but she rather wanted to see if anything she'd said would have an effect first. That, however, would be her next line of questioning if he didn't react.