Where Spirits Dwell

As soon as Jiordano’s eyes opened, his body became a blur of movement. He jumped from his bed in lightning speed, crashing into the floor a few feet beyond, entangled in the covers. He hopped up; ignoring the pain in his body and with a hurried rush grabbed his clothes and ran to the door.

As he opened the door, he scrambled to put on his clothes, then with as much dignity as he could muster he exited the room. Without a thought to whatever small amount of dignity he had saved, he bolted down to the main floor below, making it in record time.

When he arrived he realized he was only slightly out of breath and he began to marvel at his strange, new found energy as he walked up to Skylar, who once again was speaking to a man behind the desk. They appeared to be agitated, as if they had just come from a spat. She then noticed him and with a parting glare at the clerk she turned and walked over, a small smirk taking over her face.

“What are you doing up already? And with such vitality… just remember who you are supposed to be at the moment. This will soon pass, it’s just a side effect of crossing between the realms,” she said with a hint of misplaced mischief in her voice.

Not to be dissuaded from what he had seen earlier, Jiordano spoke, “What was that over there?” he asked with a nod towards the desk, “You seemed angry.”

“Hmm?” she responded in an unbothered tone, “Oh, that? It was nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Somehow he knew immediately that she was lying, it seemed plain to him, as if the lie was written across her face. He didn’t understand her need for deception, but he sensed to not push the subject.

“Well then can I go for a walk? I’d like to explore the city and I need to burn the energy that’s built up in me. Surely it wouldn’t be too strange for a servant to be out on his own?”

She stared at him thoughtfully and pondered for a minute. Then after a momentary conflict in her eyes, she relented and nodded, “Fine, as long you remain safe. Make sure you don’t take any risks. Call me if anything of interest happens,” she grabbed his wrist at this and looked deep into his eyes, “Anything. Understand?”

He smiled at her, glad to be free, for the time being at least, “Thanks Skylar, and don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

With that he was off, like an arrow from a bow, shooting out the doors of the mansion and down the beautiful streets of Zamaranth. He wandered for what seemed like ages, being one with the people, melding with the life of the streets. It was so different from his home, yet so similar. He loved it and wished he could wander for hours caught between tourism and nostalgia. He looked up to see the position of the sun and he knew it was time to go back or Skylar would worry.

He began to push through the crowd on the beginning of his return to the inn. He noticed that his unnatural energy was now almost gone, its remaining reserves tingled inside him, a vague reminder of its previously deep reservoirs. Then something caught his eye, he turned to see that across the street was a young girl, dark, wavy, locks of hair running down her face being her most recognizable attribute. However that wasn’t what caught his attention; it was the dim swirls of colour that occasionally swirled about her.

He tried to focus on them, see what they were but then they would dart away, as if beyond his reach. Yet each time he focused he felt the girl become a bit more familiar, as if by staring at the colours he was getting to know her, like he was viewing her soul, her aura. He wondered why no one else seemed to be as fascinated by this phenomenon as he was.

Perhaps this was a common occurrence here? He wondered as he began to take a few steps towards her, crossing the throng of people.

As he walked up to her he began to ask her a question, “Who are-“

But then a loud noise was emitted from further up the street. A great scuffle overtook the road, people pushed and shoved as they tried to get to the sides, leaving the center clear of traffic. He tried to ignore this and to speak to the girl once again but it was impossible. Instead he turned his eyes towards the object of the crowd’s attention.

A large procession was making its way towards them and that’s when he noticed it. This wasn’t the trumpeting of some silly noble, these people were different, it was obvious. Not from their aura, or posture, or stature, they were defined by their physical features. But it was not the beauty of their faces, or their god sculpted forms, it was what held more beauty than all of those things, their wings.