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Description
The shadows of the stalactites cut sharply across Magni's hard set lips as he moved through the cavernous plaza. The stones beneath him seemed ordinary at first sight, painted in a pattern that was styled after mortal mosaics, mostly in shades of gold and brown, which lent the area a warmth a familiarity that less public parts of the subterranean city often lacked. He moved across at a brisk pace, trying to ignore what he saw out of the corner of his eyes. It was good that he had been ordered here, rather than to the sky-cities - he was sensitive to the deep earth even more than than what moved through the air. Yet, he wished he didn't have to see this. It pulsed out of the edges of his vision, and if he let it come to him, he could have smelled the iron in the blood.

He kept his eyes straight ahead, and slowly closed them as he crossed through and approached the main gates that would lead to places yet darker and deeper within city, and eventually to the forum where he had been summoned. They wouldn't wait long before beginning to discuss the recent attacks on the mortals above them, in the windy city that mirrored their own. He wasn't sure what advice he could give on such a thing, but he knew what was expected.

"Moving mountains takes more than a day," he muttered, absently, as he drew his focus in, his hooves sure on the earth despite his temporary blindness. He moved faster this way, when he was in the deeper parts. A sense of sight that had not been born in the darkness became utterly useless compared to the greater sense that he possessed, one that had developed with the kind of pressure brought to bear that would turn coal into diamonds. His mentors had often been harsh, but he was grateful now for their love of spontaneous cave diving and blindfolds. It had taught him to trust the earth more than his own body.

He nudged aside the gate, which was cold - iron, again, he thought, unless it was a coated bronze - and continued down the sloping lanes and alleys, twisting around the corners. When the stones became tighter and more irregular beneath his hooves, he knew that he was close. He could feel the subtle vibrations that signified to him a large gathering, slow moving, mostly quiet - but some voices were raised above others. Ten more paces. He could hear the beginnings of it, now.

".....and of those of some awareness, any course should strive to prevent furthering that into any clear consciousness of our actions. That is nothing unusual for our kind. Isolate the spheres of contact and contain the damage within the target area. The targets...."

Ah, he was late. He considered running, but simply sped up slightly. He was not some young child, running to his mother's side. They wanted him to be there much more than he had any interest in them. And, after all, he was not eager to be forced to hear out the same offer again, one he would have to once again refuse. He would not become one of their kind, blood of their blood. A mage was supposed to stay neutral and contribute to society on their own terms. Unlike witches and wizards, they were not meddlers.

He made it to the steps - down again, passing by a pair of nymphs with their tails twined together, and vines twined around each tail. Lower ranks, he supposed, or their relatives. They would have to have at least a drop of 'dweller blood to be allowed here, or else belong to a patron. The voice grew louder. Male. He recognized it as a high rank, one of the nephews of Odalis. The targets, the targets... he had never heard one of them speak like that about humans. Despite himself, the thought of a threat that great sank in, and he ran for the last distance until stones were replaced by fine sand. He was soon swallowed by the crowd of gathered 'dwellers. He could feel their cloaks brushing against him as he pushed his way towards the front.

He opened his eyes and saw a familiar facing staring back at him. The speaker was not, in fact, one of the nephews. He set his jaw stubbornly, refusing to turn away, his eyes bright in the darkness. He would hear them out, he supposed, for now. The time would come later when their paths would diverge.

Description
The shadows of the stalactites cut sharply across Magni's hard set lips as he moved through the cavernous plaza. The stones beneath him seemed ordinary at first sight, painted in a pattern that was styled after mortal mosaics, mostly in shades of gold and brown, which lent the area a warmth a familiarity that less public parts of the subterranean city often lacked. He moved across at a brisk pace, trying to ignore what he saw out of the corner of his eyes. It was good that he had been ordered here, rather than to the sky-cities - he was sensitive to the deep earth even more than than what moved through the air. Yet, he wished he didn't have to see this. It pulsed out of the edges of his vision, and if he let it come to him, he could have smelled the iron in the blood.

He kept his eyes straight ahead, and slowly closed them as he crossed through and approached the main gates that would lead to places yet darker and deeper within city, and eventually to the forum where he had been summoned. They wouldn't wait long before beginning to discuss the recent attacks on the mortals above them, in the windy city that mirrored their own. He wasn't sure what advice he could give on such a thing, but he knew what was expected.

"Moving mountains takes more than a day," he muttered, absently, as he drew his focus in, his hooves sure on the earth despite his temporary blindness. He moved faster this way, when he was in the deeper parts. A sense of sight that had not been born in the darkness became utterly useless compared to the greater sense that he possessed, one that had developed with the kind of pressure brought to bear that would turn coal into diamonds. His mentors had often been harsh, but he was grateful now for their love of spontaneous cave diving and blindfolds. It had taught him to trust the earth more than his own body.

He nudged aside the gate, which was cold - iron, again, he thought, unless it was a coated bronze - and continued down the sloping lanes and alleys, twisting around the corners. When the stones became tighter and more irregular beneath his hooves, he knew that he was close. He could feel the subtle vibrations that signified to him a large gathering, slow moving, mostly quiet - but some voices were raised above others. Ten more paces. He could hear the beginnings of it, now.

".....and of those of some awareness, any course should strive to prevent furthering that into any clear consciousness of our actions. That is nothing unusual for our kind. Isolate the spheres of contact and contain the damage within the target area. The targets...."

Ah, he was late. He considered running, but simply sped up slightly. He was not some young child, running to his mother's side. They wanted him to be there much more than he had any interest in them. And, after all, he was not eager to be forced to hear out the same offer again, one he would have to once again refuse. He would not become one of their kind, blood of their blood. A mage was supposed to stay neutral and contribute to society on their own terms. Unlike witches and wizards, they were not meddlers.

He made it to the steps - down again, passing by a pair of nymphs with their tails twined together, and vines twined around each tail. Lower ranks, he supposed, or their relatives. They would have to have at least a drop of 'dweller blood to be allowed here, or else belong to a patron. The voice grew louder. Male. He recognized it as a high rank, one of the nephews of Odalis. The targets, the targets... he had never heard one of them speak like that about humans. Despite himself, the thought of a threat that great sank in, and he ran for the last distance until stones were replaced by fine sand. He was soon swallowed by the crowd of gathered 'dwellers. He could feel their cloaks brushing against him as he pushed his way towards the front.

He opened his eyes and saw a familiar facing staring back at him. The speaker was not, in fact, one of the nephews. He set his jaw stubbornly, refusing to turn away, his eyes bright in the darkness. He would hear them out, he supposed, for now. The time would come later when their paths would diverge.