Post by Ránëwén Lossëhelin on Aug 18, 2011 23:35:43 GMT -5
[Takes place after First Day Renovations in this topic: The Council Hall ]
After the meal, she left. Down the street she went over dirt and stone with rolled, velvet parchment in hand. Twas' a painting, although a person would need x-ray vision to see such. She held it so close that it was practically part of her ensemble. Per the recent town meeting, she had learned quite a bit about the current status of where she made residence. Something in particular was the high rate of crime, and other indicators of thieves and conman. Despite its lackluster condition, she had no doubt that the painting was worth something to someone.
Faded, and upon near rigor, to those whom weren't aware, perhaps the place depicted was nothing more than the wishful thinking of an artist. However, to one whom had long grew up in such a place, the likeness was undeniable. Upon parchment etched in floral paints was Candle Grove. A basin of stars in the cool night painted high above endless log cabins and grassy plains which led up and out towards a south facing cliff side. Where dotted trees once stood were now green bushes and fading grass, along with a tinge of flame indicating the desert to the west. It lacked proper titles and labels of the locations; the detail though was too specific to be a coincidence.
Towards the Tavern she walked, for where better else was there to find information on a nil lead? What she had was next to nothing, only a hope that someone might recognize the work, or the etched symbol on the back that was no doubt some manner of signature. Perhaps there was more of a reason to linger here than she first thought. Had her parents deduced the same as well? Neither of them were painters, however that scene, only a person who had seen her home could have possibly created it.
After the meal, she left. Down the street she went over dirt and stone with rolled, velvet parchment in hand. Twas' a painting, although a person would need x-ray vision to see such. She held it so close that it was practically part of her ensemble. Per the recent town meeting, she had learned quite a bit about the current status of where she made residence. Something in particular was the high rate of crime, and other indicators of thieves and conman. Despite its lackluster condition, she had no doubt that the painting was worth something to someone.
Faded, and upon near rigor, to those whom weren't aware, perhaps the place depicted was nothing more than the wishful thinking of an artist. However, to one whom had long grew up in such a place, the likeness was undeniable. Upon parchment etched in floral paints was Candle Grove. A basin of stars in the cool night painted high above endless log cabins and grassy plains which led up and out towards a south facing cliff side. Where dotted trees once stood were now green bushes and fading grass, along with a tinge of flame indicating the desert to the west. It lacked proper titles and labels of the locations; the detail though was too specific to be a coincidence.
Towards the Tavern she walked, for where better else was there to find information on a nil lead? What she had was next to nothing, only a hope that someone might recognize the work, or the etched symbol on the back that was no doubt some manner of signature. Perhaps there was more of a reason to linger here than she first thought. Had her parents deduced the same as well? Neither of them were painters, however that scene, only a person who had seen her home could have possibly created it.