A small crowd was amassing outside the city’s airship port where the last flight back to the plains was due to depart soon.

“Cancelled? What do you mean, cancelled?”

A man clad in the city’s colours, hot and bothered under the heat of a long Ignius day and the hostile glares raking every inch of his person, stood in front of the crowd and tried to get his voice heard. A valiant effort, but since he had yet to drop the polite act it was not entirely successful. Tore, who found himself stranded at the far edges of the throng, could only catch a word here and there over the disgruntled murmurs. Apologies and reassuring phrases aside it was starting to sound like there wasn’t going to be another airship until tomorrow morning. The vampire slipped away when the man’s voice was suddenly drowned by a loud argument breaking out in the front. He’d heard enough.

Meanwhile, life in Karith went on shamelessly ignorant of the travelers’ misfortune as the city got ready for the night. Lanterns were brought out and the markets prepared for the new breed of customers. Locals, now released from their daily duties, took to the streets in search for a moment’s escape. Tore wandered among the people with his head hung low, occasionally glancing up to a sight or sound that caught his interest. Despite all the wonders laid in front of him, the vampire remained peculiarly unenthusiastic for someone witnessing the floating city for the first time.

Cities were… difficult for him. Ever since Tore had left Egjora he had avoided them to best of his ability. At first it had been out of fear, pure and simple. For a newborn vampire, still confused and struggling to control what was happening in its recently deceased body, straying anywhere near sentient beings was a tragedy begging to happen. But as years went by and his mind grew numb to the realities of his new life, the fear had slowly subsided.

A gust of wind caught the vampire’s cloak and made him look up. This part of the city wasn’t quite as packed with people as the heart of the trading markets. Trees, shrubberies and flowerbeds had been placed with great care to create an illusion of natural growth. Somewhere out of sight street artists were courting people’s attention with their instruments and tricks; a gentle mix of singing, laughter and music of all kinds drifted down the street. Tore came across a railing marking a small lookout and leaned in with some curiosity. Mist and fumes pouring from the lower levels of the city rendered the ground directly below them almost invisible, but every now and then he could catch a glimpse of the map-like scenery unfolding somewhere far far away. Tore moved his gaze further to the horizon and breathed out slowly.

Cities never got any easier. His first attempt at entering one after his initial escape from Egjora had been filled with nearly hubris-like confidence – extremely anxious one, but still. Needless to say he had learned a hard lesson that day. Since then, every time the vampire found himself forced to set foot inside city walls, a foolish hope woke up in the back of his mind. Maybe this time things would turn out different? Not that he longed after the life he once had. Of course not. Oblivion, that was what he waited for so eagerly. To walk among the buildings that loomed overhead with the same perfect detachment he walked among the trees. In control of himself and his surroundings.

It just wasn’t happening. Especially not today. Tore’s face grew even bleaker as he cast his mind back to the encounter with the very reason he had gotten himself stranded up here in the first place. She was a friend of his mother’s – closer to an acquaintance, really. An ice elf who had kept a modest dressmaker’s shop in Egjora when Tore was still a young man. He’d barely known her at the time, and once she moved abroad with her husband, she and the little shop effectively disappeared from his memory. That is, up until a couple of weeks ago when Tore had visited a tailor in Kurayo to get his old cloak fixed. The vampire running the shop had fiddled with the hood’s lining for a moment marveling the subtle embroideries that adorned it, until he confessed he didn’t know how to restore the light warding spell woven into the words without removing them altogether. As an answer to his client’s distressed silence he had then went on to tell about an elven woman – a live one, imagine that – who’s work closely resembled this one. This seemed to peak the other’s interest, so the tailor had provided an address in Karith and wished the younger vampire best of luck.

This morning Tore had finally gathered enough courage to board an airship up to the floating city. He’d been successful in his search. Not only did he find the elf, but late that evening he left her shop wearing a cloak that could once again take the worst edge off sunlight. The only downside was he’d had to wait inside until her work was complete, and that she had recognized him the second she saw the embroideries. Oh gods. Tore couldn’t even remember when was the last time he’d been so completely terrified by someone. Had she suspected something? There had been a passing a moment, probably a mere second, when she had suddenly fallen silent and just looked past him with the slightest frown on her face. Tore had hastened to deliver more lies about Egjora and its inhabitants which he hadn’t even set eyes on for the last fifteen years, and the conversation continued as pleasant as ever. Still- Hadn’t there been something off about her behaviour afterwards? Stiffened shoulders, a laughter that rolled out just a bit too readily? Or was he simply imagining things?

She had known his mother…

The vampire remained there staring at nothing for a minute or two, until he seemed to remember where he was and glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, the city’s transformation was almost complete. First lanterns had been lit and the already vibrant city was now glowing with completely new colours. Tore watched them, his eyes unmoving and empty. Then he sniffed, made sure that the scarf around his neck was properly hiding the telltale scars, and slowly started at the direction of the sounds of merriment. Couldn’t afford staying in the open for too long. Parvpora wasn’t exactly the kindest place for the likes of him.

As he walked amongst the gated mansions surrounded by moats of sprawling gardens and increasingly extravant design, he would perhaps- with his advanced hearing- feel the sweet and gentle carress of a stringed instrument's wavering song within his eardrums. Obviously it seemed to be enhanced with some sort of charming psionics magic yet- the wielder of the violin as could clearly now be identified, was rather skilled in and of themselves. The sweet sound seemed to emenate most loudly from a small, hidden away garden gate to one of the sprawling properties, clearly the player within the gardens, revelling in the coolness of the night.

Elenoir Kilandre-Alveron sat upon one of the ornate stone benches within the gardens of her family's manner, her slender legs crossed as she swayed with the movement of the white horse-hair bow which she wielded better then some heroes their own swords. The ebony wood's red grain flashing silver and maroon in the increasingly bleached light of the rising moon. Why had she come out tonight? Simply because once more, she had a story ipon her mind she hoped to convey in music with the rather naive if not vain hope that some stranger- perhaps an angel- would hear and give her praise or… At least recognition.

nonetheless, the platinum blonde's bow began to weave an increasingly unusual story of a young man wandering in a dark forest. All conveyed through the power of music, the mind's eye would create the imagery of a lost young man chasing after will-o-wisps and being drawn further, further into the dark forest until not even the wisps dared lead him further… 

Suddenly it came to Tore that his aimless wandering wasn’t quite aimless anymore.

He looked around. The vibrant colours and endless hustle of the city’s centre had gradually vanished. In their place stood now mansions and gardens of the finest kind, still and dignified in the darkness, silently glaring at the stranger among them.

Tore blinked. Around him, a melody flowed in the night. It had been there all along, so his brain told him – but it felt like up to this very moment he had merely heard it rather than listened to it.

As he wavered there dazed and disoriented, he caught an edge of something that didn’t belong. A spell. It was quite obvious now that he knew to look for it, but if he let his concentration slip even the slightest, it was gone again. Not exactly hidden, just woven into the music with such skill it was near impossible to imagine one without the other. Odd. Tore considered himself rather good at spotting psionic spells, and yet here he was, getting his strings pulled by this sound like it was nothing. He nearly got ensnared by it again once he let himself listen to it as music rather than a construct of noises.

The melody had caught the vampire’s attention as a mere whisper, a promise of a moment’s respite from the crowd’s sickening, unrelenting pulse. He had followed with half-hearted interest, fully intending to forget about it and continue after some other passing stimulus if he couldn’t find the source in a couple of minutes. Just a whim. Nothing to pay too much mind to. But as the melody grew clearer he had forgotten to worry about turning back. He had forgotten to worry about anything, really.

Tore hesitated. Whatever was making the sound couldn’t be far. Even though he was now fully aware of the mind tricks that were being played on him, the vampire couldn’t help detesting the idea of heading back to the markets. He would be safer there, yes, but if he walked away now the incident would bother him for gods know how long. Had it been this sweet melody alone, fine. He’d take it as an odd little experience, appreciate it for a while and then pleasantly forget about it. But knowing that someone had managed to get the best of him so effortlessly made the whole thing considerably more difficult to shake off. Weirdest thing about it was that Tore had no idea why it was happening. One hears a beckoning song in the thick of the woods and one can quite easily make a solid guess as to who – or what – is making the sound, and why. But what reason could anyone have for practicing this kind of spellcraft in the middle of a slumbering upper class neighbourhood?

A gate cut off his path.

The vampire slowed to a crawl, then stopped altogether. This, he thought to himself more disappointed than he would have cared to admit, was as far as he could go. Anywhere past the gate things would more than likely start going south very, very fast, and he had no reason to brave such odds. If someone could afford a mansion, surround it with nature in a city where every bit of soil was an item of luxury and then build a wall around the whole shebang, they wouldn’t forget to throw in some extra cash for defences. Tore wasn’t exactly keen on finding out what kind of security measures this particular place had in store for unwanted visitors.

But even as the vampire peered at the surrounding walls and towering mansions as if to remind himself just how much he stuck out here, he was inching towards the gate. Tore glanced up and down the street, his mouth nothing but a nervous line at this point. No one else in sight.

…Perhaps just a quick peek?

In a matter of seconds Tore found himself trespassing in someone’s garden. Quick and silent, he made his way towards the sound like a shadow. As he drew closer it became more and more difficult to tell him apart from the still gloom. By the time he got the first glimpse of the musician, for most people he could have just as well vanished. He wasn’t truly invisible though, and despite being usually able to fool the senses into believing there was nothing to be, well, sensed where he was standing, he remained cautious with this one. Magic was involved, after all.

The source of the mysterious sound turned out to be a young woman. A fair, slender creature – even though Tore wondered her seemingly young age, he had to admit her appearances fit the nature of her music remarkably well. He watched as she worked her instrument, pleasantly lost in the illusion of effortlessness only someone very talented could create.

Then the music changed. A story unfolded before him.

Tore watched (or rather, listened) in perplexed awe. He’d never experienced something like this, and what’s more, the story actually managed to captivate his interest – a feat that only a few pieces of fiction could accomplish these days. But as the forest slowly swallowed the young man, and the branches smothered the last memories of the sunlight, the vampire suddenly fidgeted and turned to leave with a curious mixture of reluctance and haste.

And tripped.

Tore staggered, tripped again and fell against the tree trunk he’d been using as a cover with a surprised yelp, which he managed to stifle only partially. He stood there for a second completely dazed, nails still digging into the tree’s bark as if the earth could disappear from under his feet any moment now. They dug even deeper when he suddenly realized he wasn’t invisible anymore.

With the yelp, the heavy thud, the imagery of the whisps within the bog- the imagery of the boy wandering the aimless dark snapped away. The dulcet tones of the violin coming to an all too abrupt pause. Elenoir stared with utter shock at the rather sallow and slender man whom suddenly appeared upon the other side of the small pond. The silvery light of the moonlight shone rather awe-inspiringly off his bald head, reminding her of a pearl briefly. Shifting her legs so she could stand, the white-cream skirts hissing about her legs, she stood cautiously- lowering the bow.

Elenoir's fragile fingers curled about the ebony neck of the Violin as her other hand lightly pinched the bow between her thumb and forefinger. Of course, she was quite stunned- her mind briefly flickering to her mother. Her mother would probably have leapt across the pond by now to backhand the man back into the shadows. At this thought, a sympathetic smile curls her cherry lips- the young woman tilts her head to one side, platinum blond locks falling over her shoulder in a seeming waterfall of silken hair," Are you quite alright?" she asks.

Even that lovely voice, lyrical and akin to a lullaby held an undeniably massive amount of psionic-power. At this point, one more adept in identifying such things could likely guess this particular… Creature, was naturally imbued with such skills, likely relating simply to sound. Nonetheless, even with this in mind- one would perhaps find themselves hypnotized, or at the very least further intrigued.