Caedra is mid-word when the shift happens: a sudden lurch, a bit like a planeshift but somehow not that either. Alarmed, she looks up from her pen and the paper in her lap, from her seat near the edge of the park, to find that where once there was a river, there is now a broad, gray sea. She can just make out an island far to the south, with what looks like one of the temple buildings.
The islands, why did they have to vote for the islands? Why did the vote have to take place in a way she couldn't alter it? A flash of memory clouds her judgment momentarily, with a vision of a gray seaside city she spent far too long in. The city she died in.
Raindrops splatter and dampen the paper. She takes her pen and throws it abruptly at the water in a sudden flare of anger - but it hits a rock with a loud clatter of plastic against stone.
"Did you vote for this?" she asks whoever it might be who happens to walk by.
West Island: May 28
After some time spent exploring, Caedra has the layout of the new place mostly worked out, though there are a few holes in her knowledge still remaining. It's easy enough to fly across the narrowest straits between the islands but it takes time - the city is more spread out now than it used to be. She eventually finds her way back to the house she had claimed as her own.
Her writing is still there. The thorns are gone. Everything else looks untouched. She steps back out onto the porch and pulls up her hood, more to keep her hair dry than to protect from the cold. Temperature doesn't bother her, and in fact her private domain on Abyssal layer 418 is far colder than this anyway, with its black vines icy to the touch and its rivers of liquid nitrogen.
She surveys her altered surroundings, summons her sword, and begins to cast, gesturing over the terrain with the tip of the rapier, and then holds her pose and focus for several minutes. Once again, the illusion of a dense thorny thicket appears across the landscape, radiating out from her house, looking completely impenetrable.
Good, that should keep the strays out again.
Around, your choice of date
Caedra doesn't bother to hide that she can just fly from island to island. She goes to have a look at the colosseum once again as she considers her plans for the fighting arena. She checks up on the Speakeasy once she has found its new location, and will ask whoever is tending the bar if they have coffee liqueur in stock.
At times, she can be seen sitting on a beach at the narrow points between islands, looking out over the water, waiting for people who might want to cross.
"Need a ride?" she will offer - but be wary if you accept, for her prices can be steep.
Caedra | OTA
Caedra is mid-word when the shift happens: a sudden lurch, a bit like a planeshift but somehow not that either. Alarmed, she looks up from her pen and the paper in her lap, from her seat near the edge of the park, to find that where once there was a river, there is now a broad, gray sea. She can just make out an island far to the south, with what looks like one of the temple buildings.
The islands, why did they have to vote for the islands? Why did the vote have to take place in a way she couldn't alter it? A flash of memory clouds her judgment momentarily, with a vision of a gray seaside city she spent far too long in. The city she died in.
Raindrops splatter and dampen the paper. She takes her pen and throws it abruptly at the water in a sudden flare of anger - but it hits a rock with a loud clatter of plastic against stone.
"Did you vote for this?" she asks whoever it might be who happens to walk by.
West Island: May 28
After some time spent exploring, Caedra has the layout of the new place mostly worked out, though there are a few holes in her knowledge still remaining. It's easy enough to fly across the narrowest straits between the islands but it takes time - the city is more spread out now than it used to be. She eventually finds her way back to the house she had claimed as her own.
Her writing is still there. The thorns are gone. Everything else looks untouched. She steps back out onto the porch and pulls up her hood, more to keep her hair dry than to protect from the cold. Temperature doesn't bother her, and in fact her private domain on Abyssal layer 418 is far colder than this anyway, with its black vines icy to the touch and its rivers of liquid nitrogen.
She surveys her altered surroundings, summons her sword, and begins to cast, gesturing over the terrain with the tip of the rapier, and then holds her pose and focus for several minutes. Once again, the illusion of a dense thorny thicket appears across the landscape, radiating out from her house, looking completely impenetrable.
Good, that should keep the strays out again.
Around, your choice of date
Caedra doesn't bother to hide that she can just fly from island to island. She goes to have a look at the colosseum once again as she considers her plans for the fighting arena. She checks up on the Speakeasy once she has found its new location, and will ask whoever is tending the bar if they have coffee liqueur in stock.
At times, she can be seen sitting on a beach at the narrow points between islands, looking out over the water, waiting for people who might want to cross.
"Need a ride?" she will offer - but be wary if you accept, for her prices can be steep.