Sularia had, at least as far as this world was concerned, had long been the home of the rosenite race. Through a lot of bizarre merging of worlds Angela had both always been here, yet also had not. This was always something that Kale tried to keep from occupying his thoughts as it would surely drive him mad were he to linger. He'd found it more difficult now than it had been; the goddess was, it seemed, celebrating her birth in this world. As much as the man wished to avoid this woman, there was some small part of him that had missed the woman.

Hot, dry air from the harsh desert washed over this city, clashing with the cooler air from the seas and creating gusting air currents. The winds whipped into a frenzy, carrying sands from the desert into a dust devil and dissipating just as quickly. Where the cyclone had been now stood Kale, black hair admittedly a bit long and slightly unkempt. Currently, black strands threatened to fall across icy blue eyes and he found himself cursing the part of him responsible for dragging him here on a whim.

Before him stood a structure comprised of glass and steel, doubtlessly a work of Shiloh’s given the impossibly large interior. Inside, people approached Kale inviting him to drop off gifts for the Goddess of Life and getting a quirked eyebrow in response, “I have no gift for Angela,” he said, “That woman might well die were I to present a gift.” This drew odd looks from the staff; perhaps they weren’t used to someone speaking so casually to them about the deity? After a short moment, the pirate grew tired of their bewilderment and pushed on passed.

Stopping briefly near one of the pillars, he looked to the blooming flowers of all manner. There were plenty which he’d never seen before, though he’d also seen flowers few in this world had as well. The thought brought with it the memory of the trees he’d once grown; permanently flowering and emanating a soft breeze from the flowers. They’d changed scent and appearance with the seasons, as well. He’d once given a seed to Angela as a gift and a part of him wondered if she still had it, though he doubted she would as it was from long before Revaliir. Kale shook himself from his reminiscing and turned towards the rest of this place.

There was a mountain of cake set beyond a phoenix-shaped pyre. He stepped forward beyond the phoenix and looked upwards. “This explains the lack of sugar and flour on the seas,” he said to no one in particular before proceeding to the first floor.

A lively symphony faded into existence as he made his way up, though it was at first difficult to pick out the musicians. It seemed Shiloh had been busy as these performers were artificial and of her styling, blending in startlingly with the surroundings. As his eyes left these creations, his blue eyes set on the scenery itself; everything in the scenery seemed to be comprised of sweets. The dirt itself looked to be cocoa powder, candy roses with what could only be powdered sugar, and many wine-spewing fountains crafted in the likeness of Angela in phases of her life in Revaliir.

Kale began to laugh, other visitors looking questioningly at the man laughing with only himself. “It all makes sense,” he said between laughs, “This must have been a surprise! Even Angela isn’t this ostentatious and vain!” He’d begun to laugh so hard, he had to sit and catch his breath on a bench, his back to the cake that, from here, looked reminiscent of the various topographies found in Onnen.

Kale took a few deep breathes, his hands covering his face as he composed himself again in spite of the occasional chuckles escaping in the process.

“Well, I suppose I did come to see Angela,” he said with another laugh, “Technically, I suppose I have!”