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Aug. 5th, 2013 10:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
( Cut for light spoilers up to Tricked. )
I never thought about travelling the Old Ways to get away (too much attention), and I picked our location because it was as far from the old ways as you could possibly get.
Which doesn't explain why I've ended up in some sort of art gallery.
My sandals squeak on the polished floor as I spin around and open the door I just came through. No cabin, no woods, no Granuaile or Oberon -- this is not good. At all. I didn't go and fake my death to ensure our safety just to get lost right before I could even start training Granuaile.
I activate my faerie specs charm -- it allows me to view auras and enchantments in the magical realm, very neat and kind of cool, if I do say so myself -- and I see nothing I recognize. Magic has a certain kind of aura about it, one that I can pick out and read as easily as Dr. Seuss after two thousand years of working with it. The fact that I've never seen this sort of aura before scares me.
With the faerie specs charm still going, I walk toward the big double doors that seem to spill out into a much larger room and hey, look at that.
"Welcome to Hotel California. Such a lovely place," I say to myself, taking it all in.
It's gorgeous, I'll give it that. But I've always been wary of pretty things when there's magic of this magnitude involved. Especially magic I don't recognize. Who has enough power to transport someone from the middle of nowhere to a hotel like this? Probably a god. And why? Well, there's a long list of reasons why any god would do it, that's a silly question to ask.
I'm just going to cross my fingers and hope it's not Odin.
"Excuse me," I say, trying to to catch the attention of a passing bell hop. "What's the name of this hotel?"
The look he shoots my way makes me turn off the charm and look down at myself. Oh, yeah. T-shirt, pants, sandals, and sword hanging off my back - I'm probably not the sort of clientele this hotel sees.
[OOC: Please skim this! Especially the bit about tattoos.]
I never thought about travelling the Old Ways to get away (too much attention), and I picked our location because it was as far from the old ways as you could possibly get.
Which doesn't explain why I've ended up in some sort of art gallery.
My sandals squeak on the polished floor as I spin around and open the door I just came through. No cabin, no woods, no Granuaile or Oberon -- this is not good. At all. I didn't go and fake my death to ensure our safety just to get lost right before I could even start training Granuaile.
I activate my faerie specs charm -- it allows me to view auras and enchantments in the magical realm, very neat and kind of cool, if I do say so myself -- and I see nothing I recognize. Magic has a certain kind of aura about it, one that I can pick out and read as easily as Dr. Seuss after two thousand years of working with it. The fact that I've never seen this sort of aura before scares me.
With the faerie specs charm still going, I walk toward the big double doors that seem to spill out into a much larger room and hey, look at that.
"Welcome to Hotel California. Such a lovely place," I say to myself, taking it all in.
It's gorgeous, I'll give it that. But I've always been wary of pretty things when there's magic of this magnitude involved. Especially magic I don't recognize. Who has enough power to transport someone from the middle of nowhere to a hotel like this? Probably a god. And why? Well, there's a long list of reasons why any god would do it, that's a silly question to ask.
I'm just going to cross my fingers and hope it's not Odin.
"Excuse me," I say, trying to to catch the attention of a passing bell hop. "What's the name of this hotel?"
The look he shoots my way makes me turn off the charm and look down at myself. Oh, yeah. T-shirt, pants, sandals, and sword hanging off my back - I'm probably not the sort of clientele this hotel sees.
[OOC: Please skim this! Especially the bit about tattoos.]