07.14L A Prime Direction
Posted: Mon May 23, 2016 3:49 pm
Ratheven Square is rather busy for a Friday as the locals run errands and pressing tasks forestalled by the week's festivities. The cobbles and fountain still bear clean snow in corners and under eves, but most areas largely trodden and slurried by a day and a half of traffic. The fountain burbles softly, the serpentine weaving of constituent pipes, struts, and spouts deflecting and refracting the noon-day light into a brilliant sunburst pattern that shimmers on the tiles below like living fire.
Visible down the street, a different design is alight with a similar blaze. The upper surface of a hanging log is speared by numerous shards of yellow and orange glass fused together into a frozen inferno, making it a trivial matter to locate the Gingerfire Patisserie. The private bakery is pulling brisk business, going so far as to advertise serving "Delicacies hosted at Tir-Na Nog'th"* according to the standing chalkboard outside. The counter is manned by a pair of youths kept busy taking orders from both the customers and a tiefling who pops out from the kitchen infrequently. A few of the patrons will politely and discretely take their leave at the approach of strangers in particularly outlandish garb**, but most of the occupants are largely busy with their own drinks, desserts, and distractions.
Among the latter group is a familiar face - the messenger from earlier sits near the one of the windows in the back, looking through a half dozen brochures. She has her feet kicked up on the table, celeste-tinged hair pulled out from her shawl and cascading level with the seat, and is apparently enjoying flipping through a pamphlet about a mountaintop get-away***.
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*: Anyone who was at the soiree would recognize replicas of various refreshments, but any chef signatures are absent out of professional courtesy, as noted here.
**: Such as conspicuous levels of red or "Being an overly large raven"
***: Upon closer inspection, all the papers are advertising week-long vacations and resorts to various locales. The Raven might also note that she is sitting directly across from the table Caelund was at earlier.
~: This is setting scene for the continuation of the Burning Spiders investigations. When people arrive, feel free to post.
Visible down the street, a different design is alight with a similar blaze. The upper surface of a hanging log is speared by numerous shards of yellow and orange glass fused together into a frozen inferno, making it a trivial matter to locate the Gingerfire Patisserie. The private bakery is pulling brisk business, going so far as to advertise serving "Delicacies hosted at Tir-Na Nog'th"* according to the standing chalkboard outside. The counter is manned by a pair of youths kept busy taking orders from both the customers and a tiefling who pops out from the kitchen infrequently. A few of the patrons will politely and discretely take their leave at the approach of strangers in particularly outlandish garb**, but most of the occupants are largely busy with their own drinks, desserts, and distractions.
Among the latter group is a familiar face - the messenger from earlier sits near the one of the windows in the back, looking through a half dozen brochures. She has her feet kicked up on the table, celeste-tinged hair pulled out from her shawl and cascading level with the seat, and is apparently enjoying flipping through a pamphlet about a mountaintop get-away***.
_____________________________________
*: Anyone who was at the soiree would recognize replicas of various refreshments, but any chef signatures are absent out of professional courtesy, as noted here.
**: Such as conspicuous levels of red or "Being an overly large raven"
***: Upon closer inspection, all the papers are advertising week-long vacations and resorts to various locales. The Raven might also note that she is sitting directly across from the table Caelund was at earlier.
~: This is setting scene for the continuation of the Burning Spiders investigations. When people arrive, feel free to post.