Trevan Soithiel
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- Messages
- 82
There is beauty in darkness. That is what most Drow would tell you, and as you would understand it they're not wrong. Beauty can be found everywhere. A glow worm with intricate spun silk perhaps, or maybe the way the moon casts a wane light across a still quiet lake. But the Drow of Zar'ahal don't see beauty in darkness the same way a surface dweller does. What is beautiful about darkness? A perfect place to hide. Concealment. Deceit. Was there something in that shadow or was your mind just playing tricks on you? Discretion. If no one saw it, did you really do it? You can live so much more selfishly when no one can judge you for deeds unseen.
The city of a thousand lights, Zar'ahal, truly is a wonder to behold, be you an elf or otherwise. No one can deny the beauty in it's glimmering dim lights, speckled across the vast cavern. The method in which it has been constructed is an undeniable marvel. Utilitarian mixed with the patient craftsmanship that comes with beings who can live a millennia.
Yet to so many it is all taken for granted and the beauty is lost in their eyes. All of it is seen as a calculated means to an evil destructive end. Trevan Soithiel is one such individual. He stood out upon a look-out balcony of one of the many garrisons that ringed the city, gazing away from the city and it's thousand lights, peering instead into the pitch darkness of a large open tunnel that marks one of the pathways toward the surface. He knew what he stared at was the placated opening to a very dangerous path. Many denizens of the dark lurked in the labyrinth maze that lay before him.
Trevan leaned forward against the stone railing. His short-sword at his hip clinked softly against the stone, for Trevan was careless in his distant thoughts. He felt a tugging to enter that tunnel. But for what purpose? He hadn't really figured it out yet. Did he crave conflict like so many of his kind? Did he want a struggle with some dark foe? Or did he perhaps want an escape. Though he was not a slave, he felt trapped. He knew that much about his own feelings. A sense of inescapable fate. The question that worried him in the back of his mind is if the escape he sought was death. He was not content with his life, but was he unhappy with life itself? Or was there a better life somewhere out there? His gaze continued to study the large tunnel as he let the thoughts roll around in his head, no single one winning out over the others.
His shift would be done soon. Then he would descend the garrison tower and walk his way back toward his family's noble house toward the center of Zar'ahal, near to the temple of the spider god. Even though that journey was one he has done countless times, and a journey well within the protection of the garrison walls, it was still a dangerous path. No one was ever truly safe in Zar'ahal. The noble houses constantly fought for rank beneath the Queen. Trevan himself had participated in many conflicts at the bequest of his noble mother, Narrais Soithiel, so he knew well the dangers that could lurk in alley ways and shadowed doors.
Trust no one. Especially the women. That is the way of the world for those who's world was the Underrealm.
"Trevan." A familiar voice spoke, snapping Trevan from his reverie.
Turning, Trevan put a small smile on his lips. He nodded to Saebzi.
"Saebzi." He greets in an equally neutral tone.
Saebzi strode over and looked out across the same vista that Trevan had been gazing upon.
"Your shift is over." The gruff older man said.
Trevan gave a quick salute to his chest, a clenched fist over the heart, before stepping away from the railing and heading inside.
Trevan made a quick stop at the personnel storage room so that he could pick up his belongings. His backpack with various trinkets, and a mage's study book. The book had it's own satchel that he put on over his head so that it could rest comfortably at his left hip. Backpack lazily tossed over his right shoulder, he made his way the rest of the way down to the ground level of the garrison, then out into the darkly lit stone pathway that would take him toward the city proper.
The city of a thousand lights, Zar'ahal, truly is a wonder to behold, be you an elf or otherwise. No one can deny the beauty in it's glimmering dim lights, speckled across the vast cavern. The method in which it has been constructed is an undeniable marvel. Utilitarian mixed with the patient craftsmanship that comes with beings who can live a millennia.
Yet to so many it is all taken for granted and the beauty is lost in their eyes. All of it is seen as a calculated means to an evil destructive end. Trevan Soithiel is one such individual. He stood out upon a look-out balcony of one of the many garrisons that ringed the city, gazing away from the city and it's thousand lights, peering instead into the pitch darkness of a large open tunnel that marks one of the pathways toward the surface. He knew what he stared at was the placated opening to a very dangerous path. Many denizens of the dark lurked in the labyrinth maze that lay before him.
Trevan leaned forward against the stone railing. His short-sword at his hip clinked softly against the stone, for Trevan was careless in his distant thoughts. He felt a tugging to enter that tunnel. But for what purpose? He hadn't really figured it out yet. Did he crave conflict like so many of his kind? Did he want a struggle with some dark foe? Or did he perhaps want an escape. Though he was not a slave, he felt trapped. He knew that much about his own feelings. A sense of inescapable fate. The question that worried him in the back of his mind is if the escape he sought was death. He was not content with his life, but was he unhappy with life itself? Or was there a better life somewhere out there? His gaze continued to study the large tunnel as he let the thoughts roll around in his head, no single one winning out over the others.
His shift would be done soon. Then he would descend the garrison tower and walk his way back toward his family's noble house toward the center of Zar'ahal, near to the temple of the spider god. Even though that journey was one he has done countless times, and a journey well within the protection of the garrison walls, it was still a dangerous path. No one was ever truly safe in Zar'ahal. The noble houses constantly fought for rank beneath the Queen. Trevan himself had participated in many conflicts at the bequest of his noble mother, Narrais Soithiel, so he knew well the dangers that could lurk in alley ways and shadowed doors.
Trust no one. Especially the women. That is the way of the world for those who's world was the Underrealm.
"Trevan." A familiar voice spoke, snapping Trevan from his reverie.
Turning, Trevan put a small smile on his lips. He nodded to Saebzi.
"Saebzi." He greets in an equally neutral tone.
Saebzi strode over and looked out across the same vista that Trevan had been gazing upon.
"Your shift is over." The gruff older man said.
Trevan gave a quick salute to his chest, a clenched fist over the heart, before stepping away from the railing and heading inside.
Trevan made a quick stop at the personnel storage room so that he could pick up his belongings. His backpack with various trinkets, and a mage's study book. The book had it's own satchel that he put on over his head so that it could rest comfortably at his left hip. Backpack lazily tossed over his right shoulder, he made his way the rest of the way down to the ground level of the garrison, then out into the darkly lit stone pathway that would take him toward the city proper.
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