ORIGIN - head in the stars

He'd pitched the idea of moving to Cepheus with a few of his family before- the cave was easier, they'd have room to expand, and they could actually gather lumber to work with that wasn't the jungle-wood of Eridanus.

Plus, the cave just... Looked nicer.

He'd wandered about the place as a whole, careful not to step into the palace grounds themselves. Instead, he found his way to the end of a sort of natural path, one that had lead to a nice easy plains that he was certain the others would love. All the space to actually roam in, to do what they wanted...

Hell, he could do a couple of plans here, too.

And so, Attikias had set up his tent there for the moment, lived in the dim half-Voidlight with the specks on his arms and legs glowing up a dull purple. It was strange, still. He'd have to get used to it, yes, but the UV light made it stand out a lot more than normal when they were off. It was enough to have him staring at his own arms for a long few moments before it'd been shoved to the back of his mind.

Maybe he could set up some stringed lights around their camp, once they made it. It'd be good to set up in one of the sparse forests, then, and make a path to the field... Or, have it nearby? He wanted something sturdier than the leather and plant tents he'd pitched back in Eridanus, and his mind already worked on what lumber he could use around the place.

But, Cepheus. The palace. It couldn't go unignored- and how were people holding up in there, anyways? Maybe he could help Nedies, too, give himself something to do- after all, it seemed like he needed the help, anyways.

So, here he was. He was standing in the foyer of the palace, lost the moment he stepped in, staring blankly into the clean building. How long did it take to make this? He marvelled at the architecture as he passed by, turning this way and that as he struggled to find the kitchen.

By this point? He was a long way from it, and looking thoroughly lost as he invested himself in a very fancy urn. Was that porcelain? One finger lightly touched its gold-rimmed edge, and he simply basked in this one thing that sat in the corner of some turn in a hallway.

@Aethril

Aethril wasn't too fond of most of the visitors to the palace, but not once did she ever say anything to Isra or Eggbert about it. The duckling genuinely enjoyed new company and he enjoyed his tasks around the palace even more. Isra was a bit of a different story, but like most cats, the Valkhound needed enrichment. She deserved it after thousands of years of... not much happening at all.

She preferred to avoid the visitors herself. She'd stay well out of their way, slinking behind barriers or shutting herself in the library when it was busy. But it was rarely busy.

The palace wasn't quite what it used to be. Aethril found herself, at times, missing the presence of other Hands. She didn't very much like the idea of being trapped in the Nest alone, but at least Lord Dhracia was visiting on occasion.

Regardless, when she saw an elf in the foyer, it was the first time in a long time she approached a stranger with the intention of just talking-- but she knew, instinctively on getting closer, that something was off. This one's clothes were... hm. Primitive. The tail felt quite off-putting as well.

She wondered, briefly, if it were a failed attempt. There was a click-click-click as she approached and "don't touch," she said with her nose pointed upwards at the very presence of Attikias, as though deeming him Stinky.

"Who made you?" Was her nest question, damn near accusatory in tone.

@Attikias

Attikias glanced up at Aethril's footsteps, the sound unfamiliar to him. It sounded more like a deer than an elf, but-

He froze, eyes wide when he saw her. Another elf..? An elf, like Astraea, or was it a diluted elf like his kids or Dip? He stood a little straighter as his face took on a look of confusion, his eyes on Aethril and watching every movement of hers.

She didn't have a tail. Were elves not supposed to have tails..? His flicked behind him uneasily, his hand pulling back at the command and falling to his sides. His mouth had opened to say something, but- Who made you?

Oh. This was an elf. As in, an elf-elf. She was from the older, designation days, and Attikias shook his head very gently. "No one made me. I don't have a number or- designation, either." He was quiet for a moment, before holding his hand out for her's to shake, wary of her personal space and keeping to his own. "My name is Attikias Elenya. I was looking for Nedies..?"

Did she live here? She seemed very fancy, and all at once, Attikias felt... Lesser. Like he was below her, like he wasn't even an elf.

"--He's a nur," he blurted out, his mouth moving before his mind. Would she know the language, too, then, if he called Nedies a friend in it? His tail flicked uneasily behind him as he slowly folded his arms, casual in their looseness. Had he finally found another connection..?

@Aethril

Nur. What a joke.

Aethril looked down her nose at the extended hand. She did not take it, her own hands clasped in front of her corset and remained there. "In the kitchen," she responded softly, with a tone that indicated frost might as well be rolling from her lips. "Where he always is."

Another glance over his hand. "Aethril," she finally introduced herself. "Valkhand. Do you happen to be working for Master Vargas, in that case?"

This question could as well have been 'is Vargas going to get mad if something happens to you?' with the way her tone never faltered from that iciness. Why this thing was here-- surely not just the Natural Order --was eluding her and more importantly: frustrating her.

He should at least have washed his hands before entering.

@Attikias

The kitchen. He figured- if only he knew how to navigate there. "... Of course," he said after a moment, unnerved by her tone.

He curled back his hand when she did not take it. Alright, then. Her callousness felt unnecessary, but given her attire? Maybe he should have expected it. And, Valkhand- he wasn't familiar with the phrase, but it felt like Valkhound in some sense. Were they related?

... He still wasn't sure if she was his kind of elf, though. For all he knew, she was some gembound who'd installed herself into the Palace, making herself comfortable. Her mention of Vargas rattled some part of his mind, though. "I do- sometimes. I've helped him and others set traps back before the Ursa raid." His previously offer hand had curled up, his thumb working over the side of his index finger in thought.

"Why do you ask..?"

@Aethril

Usra raid? On Dontacael? Interesting.

"I assume it didn't go well," she said. "This is the first time I'm hearing about it." Isra had said there was likely a Clearstone spire in Usra, somewhere-- and considering neither her nor Vargas had mentioned it since, it must still be at large.

It didn't matter if it wasn't that much of a priority to Isra. It was a plague on Aethril's mind all the same.

Her head tilted. "Is it a crime, now, to incite casual conversation?" The Hand's tone would be teasing, playful, if her chin wasn't still lifted like a well-bred animal, if her eyes weren't narrow and sharp. "And if so, tell me, who elected you as warden?"

His nur, perhaps? Laughable.

@Attikias