[ 003 ] [ Audio / Commentlog ] [ Kirovian --> Translated Text ]

[gotyourwallet]

[Sitting on a ledge part way up one of the towers is Vie, her Journal in one hand and a half consumed bottle of liquor in the other. Since the trial she's been keeping quiet, avoiding the crowd and deliberately making herself scarce. There was a lot on her mind, and the trial had proven to be the shock her relaxed had been waiting for. A reminder that this place was not safe, and that it's people were just as much a risk as the ones she knew from home.

Journal open, she skims the page before muttering in her native tongue.]

 It would seem no matter where I go, nothing changes. The same corruption lingers.

My question to you, all of you, is a matter of species. What are you? Where do you come from? How alike is this world to your own?

[That's it. Vie falls silent. Anyone walking around outside might notice the girl sitting on the tower ledge, but try to get close and she'll climb away.]

Comments

[Audio + translated text]

[gotyourwallet.livejournal.com]

Ah. Torekine. The winged ones. I've never met any personally.

[And for that she is pleased. :|]

Nothing is ever as it seems, friend. That's something that's been further confirmed in my mind since arriving here.

How are you adjusting?

[text]

[halfbrokenwings.livejournal.com]

[There's another new term...]

I wonder now if your Torekine and the angels of my own world are of the same kind. Would the Torekine make poor diplomats but better mercenaries and executioners?

[The fancy polite way of saying " are they assholes?"]

I do not know if I am adjusting well. There is a lot here I would like to get used to but without knowing how long we will be staying, I fear relaxing too much and allowing this odd dream to become a reality. Having to return, would be a let down at this point. And of yourself, my Lady? How do you fare?

[Even with the trial, the Keep was fast becoming the preferred place to be.]