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[ a technical drawing dated in the King's Year 196, first week of the seventh month, their letters and numbers scrawled in one corner out of trained habit. the paper itself slightly rumpled, lines heavy and determined, and blotted with ink in a few places where a pen lingered a moment too long on the paper. ]

[ to most eyes, it would be almost identical to the unnamed schematics received some weeks before (he knew who it was, even without a single written word to hint at her identity, that confounded---) but to the architect a very vital key difference, a definite improvement to them in this revision. A conduit relocated. Material saved. And the same output achievable regardless. The rewiring of that transformer would be personally overseen on the morrow. ]

[ though even the hand of midwinter touches these lands sparingly, the seasons are marked by other changes observable; the arc of the Old Woman's path across the sky, the heavy rains, the herds migrating across the plains as crops ripen in the fields. The Aquilon is particularly busy at this time of year, as the great shipments of grain and other fruits of the earth travel on its waters, and the promise of trade brings more than its usual share of itinerant merchants to the Spiraling City. ]

[ ...so it is no unusual sight, perhaps; a young man in Cephean attire, standing amidst the flow of gaily fluttering robes around him... eying the street ahead-- and the spires of the Palace of the Designers, beyond that--- with some degree of trepidation. ]

[ and possibly just plain incredulousness. ]

[ that much glass can't all be ornamental. surely. ]

[Well no.

Some of it's crystal!]

[ Even so.

...walks on, careful not to actually look anyone in the eye as he passes, though sparing the odd casual glance at the buildings(?) and structures that border the wending streets. ]

[Friendly smiles, the odd open glance or whispered comment . . . visitors from Cepheus aren't exactly rare, but few ~~manage~~ venture so far into the heart of Pavo territories.

. . . not much farther, and the strains of the Chorus echo faintly through the winding streets. The palace is close now, and he's running out of time to turn back.]

[ anytime. anytime now. he could just say she wasn't there, she was out on another one of those accursed diplomatic assignments, like the last time, not even Red would know and he could just... ]

[ ....just stand at the gates, feet briefly rooted to the spot, and look up at the Palace with a grim set to his jaw. ]

[That would work really well if they weren't set to open automatically, clockwork gears turning in such a way that the gates, themselves a work of mastery, more pull back on themselves than swing open.

And, being Pavo, it's not until right then that the full view of the palace hits; sparkling swirling towers, walkway filled with sparkling fountains.]

[ --starts-- a faltering step back, boot scraping against a cobblestone--

and stares, transfixed, almost agape at the sight. ]

[Welcome to Pavo's heart.]

[ ...this....

This isn't a place for-- he shouldn't be here, not in a place like-- ]

[ ---well, but if she could just waltz through his--

...

...shakes his head, clenching his fists at his sides... and moves forward through the gate, warily surveying the grounds. ]

[Waltz through and touch things, even.

Here, it would almost seem to invite it, if so much of it didn't manage to also look almost ethereally delicate.]

[ ...and something would break, wouldn't it? After all, what an irony it would be if he were the cause of a little more apparent change than a replaced bolt, over here.

No, keeping his hands to himself. Even if that temptation isn't all absent. And walks towards the main doors of the palace, tabard fluttering in the breeze... taking a moment to adjust the straps of the light pack on his shoulders. ]

[Worse, it's quite possible you could jump up and down on it and nothing would change at all.

There's no gatekeeper to stop him, or even closed doors to bar his way—the palace stands open and welcoming, people in bright robes moving here and there, talking (and arguing, why this size of bolt will work better than that), carrying design papers, some even stopping halfway in their travels to unroll one, writing in the middle of the floor.]

[ .....that's doubtful. I mean look at it all. Extremely doubtful. ...isn't it?

He moves among them, keeping that minimum of personal space between him and the others, trying to quash the rising self-consciousness of how obviously not-them he is; his own garb dull, plain in contrast to the grandeur around him, in building and personage and everything else.

Ceremonials. He'd always hated the whole thing. Whether he was a part of or outside them, it was the same; never felt like his place.

Stepping gingerly over a leg belonging to a particularly distracted gentleman, and swerving around another animatedly discussing what sounded like the merits of Cygnian stone in the precise perfection of some monument or other, he enters the palace and....

...realizes that he's probably going to have to talk to one of these people about where to go. ]

[Yep.

At least there's plenty to choose from. How about this nice looking blonde lady over here? The one with the cleavage. Who's looking at you. Appraising, one might say. Like a mason presented with a very nice block of limestone.]

[ ......

looks to the left.

looks to the right.

...well, it's not as if it's really more apparent who the stewards or guards or frontmen of this place... are.

....

Heads for the lady in question. ]

[There don't actually seem to be any. At least none identified in any normal way.

She smiles.]

[ ...and there's that vaguely familiar ominous feeling at the back of his neck. ]

[ swallows and steels himself. ]

Pardon me, madam, I'd like to enquire if...

[And just like that, her smile vanishes.]

'Madam'?

[ --a faux pas?? --oh light damn it. ]

---milady. My.... apologies. I meant no disrespect.

The girls of Cepheus must age well for you to make a mistake like that. Should I be jealous, I wonder~

...

I'd like to enquire as to the whereabouts of one of the Designers, should she be present today.

[ items from a not-quite-correspondence ]

Re: [ items from a not-quite-correspondence ]

[ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]

Re: [ The Spiraling City, King's Year 197, midautumn ]