{Passing Ships} [open, blitzish]
Jan 4, 2018 13:54:39 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2018 13:54:39 GMT -5
Gander Ellesmere, District 4
Islander
At the edge of the world, snow peppered landscapes and whipped across outcroppings of rock. Cold from the water’s edge was swept up and cut across the island like the sharp edge of a knife. One winter, a boat ran aground in a blizzard; the heavy snows sank the hull and broke apart the metal beneath the waves. Islanders knew cold, didn’t languish in the chill of unpleasant frost or sleet. Their stubbornness was a fire burning warm against blizzards, against heat—a security even in challenging times.
Gander stood at the edge of the train station, knapsack in hand. Snow was different here. Unlike the bitter cold or harsh winds of his home, snow spread across the platform like a blanket tucking in the station to bed. Capitolites chittered along the edge of the trains, their finery of silks and towering hair otherworldly. He was at once plain and conspicuous, dressed in black and ready to represent his people as they always were: quiet, along the fringe, and patient.
He paused to watch the other trains. His home was remote for district four, but they saw travelers from time to time. Never had he thought, however, he’d get a chance to know what the other district folk were like. He supposed he’d never truly wanted to know, but curiosity stoked inside like a flame. Dangerous as it was, Gander hoped his time here would be enough adventure for a lifetime.
“Excuse meh, y’ah know wher’s the reception?” He slung his bag over his shoulder and called out to a passerby, though they ambled on. His islander brogue may have been harder to understand here. “Eh, yah mind helpin’ meh to wher’s this party?”