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Sage’s quiet caution in the hallways hadn’t gone completely unnoticed by Alorha, even though she hadn’t said anything about it while they were walking. As they moved through the castle she found herself thinking about it more than once—the way he shifted slightly behind her whenever someone passed, the way his voice lowered, the way his attention flickered constantly through the corridors as if he were always expecting someone to appear. She didn’t like the thought of him needing to be so careful. But she also understood enough, even after only two days in the castle, to realize that the walls carried more rules than anyone had bothered explaining to her properly. People moved through the corridors with a kind of careful awareness, as though everyone understood invisible boundaries she hadn’t quite learned yet. Sage seemed to know them instinctively, the way someone might know the tide patterns of a beach they had lived beside their whole life. So while they walked she let the quiet settle when other people were near, though her eyes still wandered everywhere with open curiosity. The tapestries continued to catch her attention as they passed them. Up close she could see the tiny stitches that made up entire landscapes—fields of wheat, distant mountains, cities she didn’t recognize. The colors had softened with age but they still held a kind of quiet life within them. She found herself wondering who had made them. Whether it had been a group of artisans working together, or one patient person stitching for years beneath candlelight. The idea of someone spending that much time weaving a single story into cloth made her pause briefly beside one that showed a large stone city surrounded by walls. “I wonder how old these are,” she murmured quietly, more to herself than anything. Her gaze traced the figures woven into the scene—tiny people moving through market streets, banners hanging from towers. Whoever had created it had been patient enough to include details most people might never notice. For a moment she imagined the castle slowly growing around those same stories, each generation adding something new. A hallway here, a tower there, rooms filling with books and furniture and lives lived quietly behind thick stone walls. It made the place feel less intimidating somehow. Sage’s quiet agreement when she mentioned the size of the castle pulled her attention back to him, and she smiled faintly when he admitted it had taken him time to understand it too. “That makes me feel a little better,” she said lightly. The thought of him forgetting parts of his village lingered in her mind for a moment though. She didn’t say anything about it directly, but she tried to imagine what that might feel like—being somewhere so long that the place you started to call home slowly faded in your memory. The idea felt a little sad. By the time they stepped fully into the library again, however, the quiet curiosity of the room drew her attention away from that thought. She watched with interest as Sage moved toward the door she had noticed near the shelves. The door itself looked older than the surrounding woodwork, its handle slightly worn from years of use. She tilted her head slightly as he tested the handle, clearly intrigued. His joking comment about secret passages made her laugh softly. “Well, if we accidentally interrupt a secret meeting,” she replied lightly, “I suppose I’ll simply pretend we meant to be there.” There was a playful confidence in the way she said it, though the idea clearly amused her more than anything. When he opened the door and the first wave of dust drifted into the air, Alorha instinctively leaned back a step, blinking slightly as the sunlight caught the fine cloud of particles floating through the doorway. “Oh,” she said softly. The small room beyond looked like it had been forgotten for quite some time. Boxes and wooden crates were stacked along the walls, some half open, others sealed with old cords or lids that had clearly not been moved in years. Everything carried a thin blanket of dust, the kind that gathered only when a room had been left untouched for a very long time. When Sage sneezed, she laughed quietly, covering her mouth with one hand. “That answers the question of whether anyone comes in here very often,” she said with gentle amusement. She stepped carefully into the doorway behind him, peering around with growing interest. The room felt a bit like discovering a hidden corner of the castle—one that no one had thought to organize or clear out in ages. Her eyes immediately began wandering over the boxes. “Oh, look at all of this,” she murmured. She knelt beside one of the crates closest to the door, brushing a little of the dust off the lid with the side of her hand before carefully lifting it. A soft puff of dust rose into the air again as the wood shifted. Inside were several bundles wrapped loosely in cloth. She peeled one back cautiously, revealing a collection of paintbrushes—some old and stiff with dried pigment, others still surprisingly intact. “Oh!” she said with quiet delight. She lifted one gently between her fingers, turning it slightly to inspect the bristles. “These are wonderful,” she said, glancing back toward Sage with a bright smile. “Some of them might need a bit of cleaning, but they’re still usable.” Setting the brush aside carefully, she continued peering through the crate with clear curiosity. A few jars of dried paint sat near the bottom, along with several small wooden palettes and a stack of rolled parchment that had yellowed slightly with age. Her excitement grew the more she uncovered. “It’s like someone packed up an artist’s entire workspace and forgot it existed,” she said thoughtfully. Nearby she noticed another crate partly open, its lid resting at an angle. Leaning over, she nudged it wider and peered inside. This one held small decorative objects—tiny carved figures, bits of colored glass, and what looked like several bundles of ribbon or fabric meant for decoration. Alorha’s mind immediately started jumping ahead to possibilities. “We could use some of these for the room too,” she said, her voice thoughtful as she examined a small carved piece shaped like a bird. “Not all of it, of course… but a few things might make the space feel less empty.” She set the carving carefully with the growing small pile of items they were pulling out. Then she looked around the room again, eyes bright with curiosity. “There’s so much here,” she said quietly. The discovery felt strangely exciting—like uncovering a forgotten little corner of the castle’s past. She brushed a bit of dust from her sleeve, glancing toward Sage with a small grin. “I think you might be right,” she added lightly. “We may end up leaving with armfuls.” |
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Sage had laughed softly when she joked about pretending to be at a meeting if they walked in on one. "Good to know," he noted with a slight twinge of amusement in his own tone, before he tugged the door open. He threw her an amused look at her giggle too, wrinkling his nose slightly so as not to sneeze again. "I suppose it does, though I would have loved for it not to blow straight into my face," he mused, lips twitching into a sort of smile as he slipped further into the room. He nodded eagerly as she mentioned the amount of things they had found, peering around with wide eyes. He really wasn't even sure where to start, if he was being honest. There were so many boxes here, and so much interesting stuff in each of them. Plus, he still wasn't quite used to the idea of having something of his own. All of this seemed like a lot. More than he'd ever had, that was for sure. "Yeah....there's a lot here," he murmured, almost in awe over it all. As Alorha started opening boxes though, he figured he should do the same, so he looked around for a moment before letting out a soft breath and just....opening the box closest to him. He could start there and move forward, he figured. Taking it one box at a time seemed like the best idea they had. He did grab a mostly empty box and move it into the hallway, so they could carry the things back in it as opposed to just carrying it in their arms. They could fit more in the box, and it would be easier for them both. There was plenty of stuff there too - it seemed as though there had been a castle artist at some point, given the amount of paints and charcoal and easels and such, but given the dust here the artist, whoever they were, had not been back for years. He supposed that was good for him, but it did make him curious about who they might have been. What they did here. Were they just here to paint portraits? Or was there some other duty they had to do? He found himself being curious about it all. As Alorha held up the bird and mentioned decorating the room, his eyes light up in thought, nodding along. "You did mention curtains," he thought out loud. "We could base the room off the gardens - greens and the wooden birds and such," he added, cocking his head slightly. It would be a big difference from the darker colors of the room now, but he could imagine it as a much lighter, friendlier place. It would be nice. Plus, if Alorha liked the gardens, he doubted she would mind bringing a few plants into the room either. |
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Alorha laughed quietly when Sage commented about the dust blowing directly into his face, the sound soft but genuine as she leaned slightly away from the doorway to avoid stirring up another cloud herself. Even with the door open now, the air inside the little storage room still carried that dry, powdery smell that came from things being left untouched for far too long. “I suppose the room wanted to make its presence known,” she said lightly, brushing a bit of dust from the back of her hand as she crouched beside another crate. “Though it could have done so a little more politely.” Her eyes continued to wander across the stacks of boxes around them as she spoke. Now that she was properly inside the room, the space felt even more like a forgotten corner of the castle. The shelves lining the walls were crowded with supplies—jars, bundles of brushes tied together with thin cords, small wooden trays filled with sticks of charcoal, folded cloths that might once have been used for wiping paint. Some of the items looked surprisingly well preserved despite the dust, while others had clearly been sitting long enough that the wood had darkened with age. It made her wonder how long the room had been like this. “Someone must have worked here quite often once,” she murmured thoughtfully, glancing toward Sage as he began opening boxes of his own. “You don’t accumulate this many supplies unless someone was using them regularly.” She watched him move the empty box out into the hallway and smiled slightly at the practicality of the idea. That’s clever,” she said approvingly. “Much easier than trying to juggle everything in our arms.” Returning her attention to the crates near her feet, she carefully lifted another lid and peered inside. This one held several wooden palettes layered on top of one another, the dried remnants of old paint still clinging to the surface in faint streaks of color—muted reds, deep greens, faded blues. Her gaze lingered on the colors for a moment. It felt strangely personal somehow, seeing the evidence of someone else’s work left behind like that. The small decisions they had made while painting—mixing colors, wiping brushes, leaving little marks where the paint had dried too quickly. She wondered what they had painted. Portraits, perhaps, like Sage had suggested earlier. Or landscapes of the gardens. Maybe even scenes from the city beyond the castle walls. The thought made her glance around the room again with renewed curiosity. “I wonder who they were,” she said quietly. “The artist who used all this.” She ran her thumb lightly across the edge of one palette before setting it carefully aside with the items they were collecting. “They must have spent a lot of time here.” Her thoughts drifted for a moment, imagining someone standing at an easel near the library windows, sunlight falling across a half-finished canvas while the rest of the castle carried on around them. It felt oddly peaceful. Sage’s comment about decorating the room caught her attention again, and she looked up just as he mentioned the idea of basing it on the gardens. Her expression brightened almost immediately. “Oh,” she said, clearly liking the thought. She looked down at the small carved wooden bird still sitting beside her, turning it gently between her fingers as she pictured the idea in her mind. “That would actually be lovely,” she said slowly. Her eyes lifted toward the doorway leading back to their room, though of course she couldn’t see it from here. Still, the idea was forming quickly in her mind. “The room feels very dark at the moment,” she added thoughtfully. “Heavy curtains, darker wood, very little color.” She tilted her head slightly as she imagined the changes. “But if we brought in lighter fabrics… greens, perhaps soft golds… it might feel more like a garden.” She smiled faintly at the thought. “Some small plants by the windows would help too,” she continued. “And these little carvings could sit along the shelves or tables.” She held up the bird again briefly. “They feel cheerful somehow.” Her attention drifted to another box nearby, curiosity pulling her toward it. Lifting the lid carefully this time—more cautiously than before, remembering the dust—she peeked inside and immediately let out a small sound of interest. “Oh, look at this.” Inside were several small glass jars filled with pigment powders, the colors still vivid despite the years they had spent sealed away. Deep emerald green, warm terracotta red, pale yellow like dried sunlight. She leaned closer, fascinated. “These colors are beautiful,” she said softly. For a moment she simply looked at them, imagining what they might look like once mixed with paint and spread across paper or canvas. Then she glanced over at Sage again, the excitement still bright in her expression. “If the artist hasn’t been back for years,” she said thoughtfully, “then perhaps all of this was simply forgotten.” Her smile returned, gentle but a little amused. "In which case,” she added, gesturing lightly toward the piles they were slowly creating, “I think it’s perfectly reasonable for us to give it a new life.” She rose slightly from her crouch, brushing a bit of dust from her skirt again before glancing around the room once more. “There are still so many boxes we haven’t looked through,” she said with quiet excitement. Then her eyes drifted back toward Sage and the crate he was examining. “Have you found anything interesting over there yet?” |
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At Alorha's comment about the room making itself known, sage just huffed out a breath as he knelt down to open the lid of the box at his feet. "It felt more like a go away message than a hello and welcome one," he sort of grumbled, though there wasn't really any actual annoyance in his tone. The room had no actual feelings, of course ...it was his own fault for opening the door so quickly when he probably should have known there would be dust inside it. At her next few comments, he just hummed softly in response, looking over everything. "It's all stored very well," he mused. "Whoever packaged it up and put them in here knew what they were doing," he added, rummaging around inside the bin before moving on to the next one and tossing a few other pens and things into the bin outside that was quickly becoming full. "We might need more than one bin," he commented with a sort of chuckle, glancing over at Alorha with a grin. He was excited, to say the least. His eyes all but light up when she agreed the garden idea for the room would be nice. "We can play around with it, maybe repaint some of the walls," he chirped. Admittedly, he was excited to have a large scale project to do that wasn't just for work. This would be fun, and he'd have a friend to do it with. That thought stopped him momentarily. A friend? Were they really that close? He thought so. She certainly didn't seem to mind the fact that they were acting like friends - in fact, she seemed to be enjoying their time together as much as he was. So yeah, maybe they were friends. A small smile formed on his face as he thought, glancing over at her for a moment, just watching as she rummaged around inside another bin. A friend. It was nice, he thought, to have someone like that. Not a master, even a nice one - a friend. Yes, she technically still owned him, but it didn't feel that way. Her exclamation of interest broke him from his thoughts though, and he shifted to peer over into her bin, a small noise escaping his lips as he saw the powders. "These will make....a lot of paint," he noted, carefully lifting a jar of powder - this one a deep blue. "There's practically all of the colors in here," he added, eyes widening as he looked through it. "There'll probably be more like this in other boxes too, for more colors," he noted. This one was mostly primary colors, with a few others mixed in. So, he figured there would be others as well. He moved to open another box that was nearby, revealing more powders, this time a lot of purples and other blue based pigments. The next was green based, and another red based. There was one other bin with powdered pigments with the other miscellaneous colors, including browns alongside white and black. It was more colors than he thought he'd ever seen in his life. He sat back for a moment, rather shocked at the vast amount of paints these would make. The colors he could come up with. How much fun he'd have. At Alorha's mention of giving it all a new life, he glanced over at her and chuckled softly with a nod, reaching for another bin on his own side. "I think they've been in here and untouched for long enough," he agreed. "Besides, we've got a good use for them," he added lightly, shifting to pick up a heavy jar much like the others, except this time it was full of a see through, yellowish oil. "Ah, I was wondering where this stuff was," he noted, placing the jar back in its place and shoving it towards the pigment powders outside the door. "This is what you mix with the pigments to make the paint," he added, shifting through and finding quite a few other bins full of the oil. "We can probably take a box of this back with us and keep the rest here in storage for now," he thought out loud. "It's kind of heavy." They wouldnt need all of it for a while - even one box held a lot of jars of oil. He continued looking through the boxes, humming softly when Alorha asked if he'd found anything interesting. "This one's mostly stuff for sketching - a lot of charcoal and graphite type things," he noted, lifting up a few packs of the dark chalk-like pencils. "Other than that, a lot of tools for the paint and more practical things," he added, sitting back for a moment and wiping the dust off his face with a breath. "It looks like there's other stuff too - maybe some clay and stuff over in that corner," he added, pointing to a pile of boxes in the darkest corner of the room, with smudges of clay around the edges. He hadn't experimented with clay too much, but he was definitely interested. It was messy, much more so than painting or drawing, but maybe he could make some fun jars for the plants or something for their room. Maybe he could make them and surprised Alorha with it. Suddenly, that sounded like a nice idea. She would have meetings, and if he had other things to do, he could do those quickly and then work on the room and surprise her when she got back. Yeah.....yeah that could be fun. |
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Alorha smiled faintly at Sage’s grumbled complaint about the dust, glancing across the cramped little storage room as she brushed a thin layer of powder from the lid of the crate in front of her. The dust clung stubbornly to the wood, dulling what had once been a polished surface, and it lifted into the air again with the smallest movement. Even now, after the first burst had settled, tiny specks floated through the narrow beam of light spilling in from the library doorway behind them. “A fair point,” she admitted quietly. “Though I imagine rooms like this grow rather defensive after being ignored for so long.” The tone of her voice was thoughtful rather than teasing. There was something strange about the place, something almost melancholy. The little room felt forgotten in a way the rest of the castle did not. Out in the hallways there were servants moving quietly, nobles drifting between meetings, the soft murmur of conversation echoing through tall corridors. But here, tucked beside the library and sealed away behind a door no one seemed to open anymore, time felt slower. Dust drifted lazily in the air each time they moved, turning slowly through the sunlight like pale golden smoke. She shifted slightly on her knees, studying the crates around them more carefully now that the initial excitement of discovery had passed. Sage had been right earlier. The supplies hadn’t simply been dumped here and abandoned. The longer she looked, the clearer that became. Bundles of brushes were tied neatly with thin cords. Jars had been wrapped in old cloths to keep them from knocking together. Even the pigments had been grouped by color in separate containers, arranged with an almost deliberate neatness that spoke of careful hands. “This wasn’t just thrown in here,” she murmured after a moment, tracing the edge of a crate with the tips of her fingers. The wood felt dry beneath the dust, but sturdy. “Someone packed all of this properly.” Her gaze lingered on the rows of boxes around them. “Almost like they expected it to sit untouched for a very long time.” The thought stayed with her as she watched Sage moving about the room, sorting through supplies with growing excitement. He had already begun placing things into the bin he had dragged into the hallway—pens, bundles of charcoal, small tools that looked useful even if she didn’t fully recognize them yet. When he mentioned they might need more than one bin, she laughed softly under her breath. “I suspect we will,” she said. “At this rate we’ll be redecorating half the castle before we’re done.” The idea didn’t sound nearly as absurd as it probably should have. Her attention shifted again when Sage began talking about repainting the room, his voice bright with enthusiasm. The excitement in it was difficult not to catch. As he spoke, Alorha found herself picturing the room they had been staying in—the heavy curtains, the dark colors, the sense of formality that seemed to cling to every piece of furniture. Repainting the walls. Bringing in plants. Changing the light of the space entirely. It was strange how quickly the image formed in her mind. The room shifting from something stiff and ceremonial into something softer, brighter… more alive. “Yes,” she said, warmth creeping into her voice as she imagined it more clearly. “That could work beautifully.” Tilting her head slightly, she continued studying the thought as though the room were already laid out before her. “Soft greens along one wall perhaps. Something that catches the light. The rest could stay neutral so it doesn’t feel too overwhelming.” Her ideas built slowly from there, piece by piece. Curtains that let more sunlight through. Plants along the windows. Wooden decorations scattered along shelves. It was a small thing, really. Just one room in an enormous castle she barely understood yet. And yet the thought of shaping it—even a little—made the place feel slightly less unfamiliar. Less like somewhere she had simply been placed. Her thoughts drifted as Sage examined the jars of pigment she had uncovered earlier. She watched quietly as he lifted one of them, holding it up so the light caught the deep blue powder inside. When he explained what it could become, her eyebrows rose in surprise. “All of that becomes paint?” she asked, leaning closer. One jar quickly became several. As Sage opened more crates, rows of pigments revealed themselves—deep greens, rich reds, soft purples, warm browns, each color sealed carefully inside small glass containers. For a moment Alorha simply stared at them. “There’s… so much,” she murmured. The colors were vivid even through the glass. It felt like looking at possibility itself—dozens of shades waiting to be mixed, spread across paper, turned into something new. Sage looked almost stunned by the discovery himself. She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth as she watched his expression brighten. When he agreed that the supplies deserved a new life after sitting here so long, she nodded lightly. But her attention shifted again as he uncovered a heavy jar filled with yellowish oil and explained what it was used for. “Oh,” she said, curiosity sparking again as she leaned closer to examine it. “So that’s what binds the pigments together?” He uncovered several more jars while he searched, each one thick with the same golden liquid. Alorha reached out and nudged one of them lightly, feeling the weight through the glass. “Yes… that does look rather heavy,” she agreed. “Taking only one box back with us sounds sensible.” Dragging everything out in one trip would likely be impossible anyway. While Sage continued sorting through the boxes on his side of the room, Alorha wandered a little deeper inside, moving carefully so she wouldn’t stir up another storm of dust. She lifted the lid of another crate and peered inside. This one held bundles of thin wooden handles—unfinished brush shafts perhaps—alongside several rolls of thick paper tied together with fading string. She lifted one experimentally, testing its weight before adding it to the small growing pile near the doorway. When Sage mentioned the charcoal and graphite tools, she glanced back over her shoulder toward him. “Charcoal and graphite,” she repeated thoughtfully. Her smile held a hint of amusement. “That sounds far less intimidating than paints.” She brushed dust from her fingers before adding lightly, “Take some!" Her thoughts were interrupted when Sage gestured toward the darker corner of the room. She followed the direction of his hand. The far side of the storage space sat mostly outside the reach of the doorway’s light. Several crates were stacked there unevenly, their edges marked with pale smudges that looked different from the dust covering everything else. Curious, Alorha stood and made her way over, her shoes creaking softly against the old wooden floorboards. When she crouched beside the crates, she brushed one of the pale marks with her finger. It left a faint smear. Clay. “Oh?” she said softly. Lifting the lid of the nearest box revealed several wrapped lumps of pale clay alongside small wooden sculpting tools—curved edges, thin carving points, smooth paddles for shaping. Her eyes brightened slightly as she examined them. “This must be for sculpting,” she said, glancing back toward Sage with interest. She lifted one of the tools and turned it slowly in her fingers, studying its shape. “I’ve never tried anything like that before.” Clay seemed far messier than charcoal or paint, but perhaps that was part of the appeal. Still crouched there, she looked back across the room, piecing together everything they had uncovered so far. Pigments. Charcoal. Paper. Brushes. Clay. It was like uncovering the remains of a forgotten artist’s workshop hidden quietly within the castle walls. “I don’t think we realized quite how much was in here when we opened that door,” she said softly. Then she rose again, brushing dust from her skirt as she looked toward the growing pile of supplies they had gathered in the hallway. “At this rate,” she added with a quiet smile, “we might spend the entire morning digging through boxes.” Her gaze shifted briefly toward the library beyond the doorway. And beyond that, the gardens they had planned to visit. Reluctantly, she stepped toward the doorway and nudged the nearly full bin with the toe of her shoe. “Perhaps we should carry this back to the room before we get any more ideas,” she said lightly, glancing toward Sage. “Then we can head to the gardens like we planned.” The supplies would still be here later. But the day was moving on—and the castle still had far more of itself left to discover. |
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Sage had grunted softly in agreement when Alorha mentioned all of the supplies had been packed away carefully. They'd been well cared for by someone, he knew that much. "It makes me wonder who they were. If they're even still alive," he noted, looking around the room again. "What art in the castle might be theirs." They clearly had a lot of different talents - there was more than just simple paints and charcoal things in here, after all. They were obviously good enough to be paid well - none of these supplies were cheap. In fact, they all seemed to be rather expensive. Top of the line products. It made sense, given the fact that it was for the castle, he supposed. But still, it seemed odd that he of all people would be using such expensive products. When he realized that Alorha wasn't entirely sure how the pigments and oils worked, he nodded in response to her comments, pointing at one of the tools in the bin. "You mix the powder into the oil and geing it all together with that," he explained. "Binds it all together better, and you get a nice smooth paying out of it. The more you grind the smoother it gets, and you can play around with the ratio of powder to oil depending on how thick or thin you want your paint," he chirped lightly. He chuckled when she mentioned the charcoal seemed less intimidating the the paint, shaking his head in slight amusement. "You'd be surprised....it makes far more of a mess sometimes," he noted, moving to place some of the packs of charcoal and graphite into the bin carefully, making sure they were somewhere they wouldn't be crushed by the much heavier tools. That would really make a mess. Plus he didn't want to waste any of it. When she opened the lid to the box in the far corner, and mentioned she'd never done any carving or clay work, he shifted from where he was kneeling on the floor to slip alongside her, peering into the bins. "Me either," he admitted. "Though it would be fun to try it out," he added, pinching a small bit of clay out from one of the carefully rolled batches, moving it between his fingers in thought. It felt nice - cool and smooth in a way that was definitely rather satisfying. Yes, he definitely wanted to figure out how to use this stuff. For now, though, he was fine with what they had. The clay needed to stay cool and slightly damp he knew, so leaving it here until he wanted to use it would probably be a good idea. When Alorha suggested they bring what they had back, he nodded in agreement. "I think we've got plenty for now," he agreed with a chuckle. "We can come back another time and finish looking through all the boxes," he added with a shrug, slipping out of the closet and making sure the door was closed behind him. Now that they were in the light, he couldn't help but snicker, seeing how they were both covered head to toe in dust particles. "Between this and the gardens, we may need to bathe before the meeting," he noted in faint amusement, stopping down to grab the bins they'd filled up. There were three in total - one with oil, one with pigments, and another with the tools and charcoal and graphite kits. He moved to stack the pigment box on top of the oil one, since those would be the heaviest ones, and pick them up with a grunt. All together, they weighed probably just under a hundred pounds or so, which wasn't too bad. He'd be fine carrying it back to their room. He waited for Alorha to grab the other box before starting to wander off back towards the doors, peeking out to make sure the hallway was clear before slipping out and waiting for Alorha to emerge from the library as well before heading off down the hallway and back to their room. He was rather satisfied with their visit, and honestly couldn't wait for a chance to start playing around with things. For when they started redecorating their room. All of it, really. |
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Alorha watched Sage quietly as he looked around the cramped storage room again, his eyes drifting slowly across the shelves and crates as though he were trying to piece together the life of the person who had once worked here. The room still felt thick with dust and silence, the sort of silence that came from years of being ignored rather than from simple quiet. His comment about wondering who the artist had been made her pause, her own gaze following his across the rows of boxes and carefully packed supplies. Until that moment she had been thinking mostly about the excitement of finding useful things, but now the room felt different somehow—less like a forgotten storage space and more like the remnants of someone’s work left behind. She looked down at the crate in front of her again, brushing her fingers lightly along the dusty wood. The supplies truly had been packed with care. Brushes had been tied together neatly, fragile jars cushioned with cloth so they would not crack against each other, pigments sorted carefully into different containers. It wasn’t careless storage at all. Whoever had done this had known exactly what they were preserving. “It would be strange,” she said slowly, her voice thoughtful as her gaze drifted across the room again, “to live in a castle this large and never know that an artist once worked here.” Her eyes lingered on the pigments, imagining the colors spread across canvas somewhere in the castle’s halls. “I wonder if their paintings are still hanging somewhere,” she added quietly, almost to herself. “And no one remembers who made them.” The idea felt oddly sad—beautiful things surviving long after the person who created them had disappeared from memory. Her attention shifted again when Sage began explaining how the pigments worked, and she leaned slightly closer as he pointed out the grinding tools. The stone mortar and flat grinding slab looked simple enough, though clearly well used at some point. She followed his explanation carefully, picturing the process as he described it. Powder into oil, ground together until smooth. It sounded both simple and oddly meticulous. “So the powder becomes paint once it’s mixed and ground together,” she said slowly, studying the tools as if trying to imagine the work being done there. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the jars again, the deep blues and greens glowing faintly through the dusty glass. “That sounds like it takes a great deal of patience.” There was something almost satisfying about the thought of it though—the slow grinding, the careful mixing, the moment when the powder finally turned into smooth paint ready to use. When Sage laughed at her suggestion that charcoal might be less intimidating, she raised an eyebrow slightly, glancing toward the bundles he was carefully packing into the box. “Messier than powdered pigments and oil?” she asked with a faint hint of amusement in her voice. Still, she watched the care he took while placing them, noting how he set the charcoal near the top so the heavier jars wouldn’t crush them. It was clear he valued the supplies far more than someone might expect. Perhaps that made sense though—he was the one who would actually use them. Her curiosity pulled her further into the room then, toward the darker corner where the light from the doorway barely reached. The floor creaked softly under her shoes as she moved, and she crouched beside the crates Sage had pointed out. Pale smudges along the wood caught her attention immediately. Clay. She brushed one of the marks lightly with her finger before lifting the lid of the nearest box. Inside were several carefully wrapped blocks of pale clay alongside a small collection of sculpting tools—thin wooden handles with curved edges, smooth paddles for shaping, delicate carving tips meant for finer details. When Sage joined her and pinched a small piece of clay from one of the blocks, she watched him roll it thoughtfully between his fingers. The material looked cool and smooth, almost pleasant to handle. “It does look rather fun,” she admitted, resting her arms lightly on her knees as she examined the tools. She had never tried sculpting before, and the thought of working with clay felt far more tactile and messy than drawing or painting. For a brief moment she considered bringing some with them, but Sage’s comment about the clay needing to stay cool made sense. It would probably be better left where it was for now. “There’s no rush,” she said after a moment, gently closing the crate again. “It will still be here when we come back.” By the time they had finished looking through the room, the boxes near the doorway had begun to fill with supplies—pigments, charcoal, brushes, tools, paper. Far more than she had expected to find when they first opened the dusty door. When she suggested they bring what they had gathered back to their room before continuing to explore, she was relieved when Sage agreed easily. They had already uncovered enough to keep them busy for quite some time. She stepped out of the storage room behind him, waiting while he pulled the door shut again before following him into the library. The sudden brightness of the larger room made her blink for a moment after the dim little storage space. The tall windows allowed soft daylight to spill across the polished floors and towering shelves of books, and the air smelled faintly of paper and old wood. It was only then that she noticed the dust. Her eyes dropped to her sleeves first, where pale streaks clung stubbornly to the fabric. When Sage snickered, she glanced at him and realized he looked no better—fine grey dust scattered across his clothes and skin from head to toe. The sight made her laugh softly despite herself. She brushed her sleeve with one hand, though it did little to help. “Well,” she said with quiet amusement, “I suppose that is the price of exploration.” When he joked about needing to bathe before their meeting later, her smile only widened slightly. “Perhaps,” she agreed lightly. She stepped forward to pick up the remaining box they had packed—the one filled mostly with charcoal, brushes, and smaller tools. Compared to the jars Sage had stacked together, it was not particularly heavy, though she still adjusted her grip before straightening fully. Once Sage checked the hallway and slipped out first, she followed him into the corridor beyond the library. The castle hallways felt much larger again after the cramped storage room. High ceilings arched overhead, and the stone floors echoed faintly beneath their footsteps as they began walking back toward their room. As they moved, Alorha found her gaze drifting occasionally toward the boxes Sage carried. Pigments. Oil. Tools. The beginnings of something entirely new waiting for them. And strangely, after only two days inside the castle, the thought of bringing those things into their room—of changing it, shaping it, filling it with color and small projects—made the place feel just a little less unfamiliar than it had before. |
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At Alorha's comments about the artist before them, he hummed softly in agreement. "It feels odd that we're taking over what was probably their entire life," he noted, holding up the tool to make the paints with. "They probably paid more for this than the queen paid for me," he noted, turning it around in his fingers as he thought about it. It was odd to have his hands on something as expensive as all this...it was worth more than he'd ever dreamed of having. But he was very, very grateful for it. All of it. And he was grateful to Alorha for searching through bins with him like this. For even letting him bring this into the room, or to let him look for it in the first place. He'd have to make it up to her. Although, it felt like she'd already done so much for him that there wasn't anything he could do to ever fully make it up to her. But he would do what he could, he'd make sure of that. They didn't come across anyone else on their way back to their room....all the nobles were likely having lunch or afternoon tea by now, so the hallways were pretty empty. Not even many servants, since they were focusing on the lunch that was out and other things like that. He was glad of it.....he didn't really trust anyone to know they'd gone and brought all this back with them. The servants were jealous, and the nobles...well, he wouldn't put it past them to destroy everything they'd found just because it was him who would be using it. He nudged the door open with his foot as they got there, wandering in and setting the jars down carefully against one of the walls, behind the bed in a way so that anyone coming in wouldn't immediately see them from the door. Plus, they would be in direct sunlight there, which was good to keep them for longer. He took the other bin from Alorha, setting it with the others, before straightening with a satisfied hum. "Right," he noted. "We may as well head to the gardens while we're dirty," he mused, casting a quick glance in the mirror on his way past the bathroom. An amused laugh escaped him - he was covered with streaks of dust so that his skin looked nearly two shades lighter. His hair was a mess too, the grue causing him to look as though he'd aged 30 years over the course of their little adventure. He shifted to wet his hands down and run them through his hair at least, getting rid of the cobwebs that had found their way in as well. He did toss Alorha a damp rag so she could wipe herself off at least a little bit, using his own wet hands to wipe his skin down a little bit better, so in case they went past someone outside. It didn't need to be perfect, they were likely going to get dirt on them in the gardens, given the curiosity they both held deep inside their minds and bodies....but they also had meetings later, so they had to be somewhat presentable. A bath would probably be helpful later, but for now a damp rag would do the trick. That didn't take long, of course, so soon enough they were moving through the castle again, heading for the front doors. He heasitated slightly at them, before stepping through them and into the breeze, letting a soft breath out as he made it through. Something felt wrong, like he wasn't supposed to leave the castle, even though he knew it was fine. He got over those feelings pretty quickly though, as his mind focused in on taking in the details of the grass and the flowers and the ivy that stretched along the castle walls. He'd never really seen the castle from this viewpoint before ....it was like looking at a whole new world. He couldn't help the little giggle that escaped his lips as they wandered onto the grass, the touch cool and soft on his bare feet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd just wandered around outside. The last time he'd touched grass like this. Smelled the flowers, or stopped to peer at the little beetles and bugs moving around with them. That sort of thing had always been beyond him. As he was watching a few other insects, a butterfly flew past him, and landed on the hand he was using to point at something else. He froze, watching it with wide eyes, as though it was all a dream and it was disappear if he blinked or moved at all. It was probably a little odd to Alorha.... probably a little weird to anyone....but his mind had stopped working a while ago, and he was just watching the small animal move it's wings lazily, the colors flashing in the sun. |
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Alorha watched Sage quietly as he turned the small grinding tool in his hands, the light catching faintly along its worn edges as he studied it. His comment about the unknown artist lingered in the dusty little storage room between them, and she found herself looking again at the supplies scattered around the floor—pigments sealed in careful glass jars, bundles of brushes tied neatly together, tools wrapped in cloth so they would not chip or crack against one another. The longer she stood there, the more the room felt less like a forgotten storage space and more like the remains of someone’s work left waiting for hands that had never returned. When Sage mentioned that the tool alone had likely cost more than the queen had paid for him, she felt something tighten quietly in her chest, though she did not interrupt him straight away. Instead, her gaze drifted across the room again, following the careful order in which everything had been stored. Whoever the artist had been, they had known what they were doing. Their work had been valued enough for the castle to provide them with materials like these. After a moment she brushed her fingers lightly along the edge of the crate beside her, disturbing a thin line of dust as she spoke. She told him it was strange to step into a space that had once been someone else’s entire world, but perhaps it was not truly taking it over the way he feared. Perhaps it was simply continuing what had been left unfinished. The tools would not sit here forever gathering dust. The colors would exist again on canvas, the room would not return to silence, and in some quiet way the artist who had once stood here would not be entirely forgotten. They gathered the rest of the supplies soon after, moving carefully so that nothing fragile cracked or spilled as they packed the boxes. The walk back through the castle turned out to be far quieter than Alorha had expected. The long corridors that had seemed full of movement earlier now felt strangely hollow, their footsteps echoing faintly along the stone floors beneath tall vaulted ceilings. Somewhere deeper in the castle she could hear the distant murmur of conversation and the faint clatter of dishes—clear signs that lunch or afternoon tea had drawn most of the nobles and servants elsewhere. It left the halls nearly empty, and she found herself grateful for that quiet. Not simply because it meant no one would question where they had been or what they were carrying, but because it allowed her to notice the castle again without distraction. Sunlight filtered through the high windows in pale golden sheets, catching the edges of tapestries and glinting softly along polished banisters. Shadows shifted gently across the stone walls as they walked, and the scale of the place still felt almost overwhelming to her. Yet there was something different about it now. Carrying the supplies they had discovered together, walking with a purpose instead of wandering aimlessly, made the castle feel slightly less distant than it had only a day before. When they reached their room, Sage nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, and Alorha followed him across the threshold. The familiar chamber greeted them with its dark curtains and heavy furniture, the sort of space designed more for formality than comfort, but it felt subtly different now knowing what they had brought with them. She watched as he set the jars carefully against the wall behind the bed, arranging them so they would not be immediately visible from the doorway. It was a thoughtful choice. Anyone stepping casually into the room would see nothing unusual at first glance, and the sunlight reaching that corner would help preserve the materials for longer. She placed her own box beside the others once he took it from her, straightening afterward and brushing another layer of dust from her sleeves. The small pile of supplies looked almost unimpressive sitting quietly in the corner, but she knew what it represented. Pigments, oil, brushes, charcoal—tools that could fill the room with color and activity instead of quiet stillness. It was a small beginning, but it was something. When Sage suggested they head to the gardens while they were still dirty, Alorha followed his glance toward the mirror and quickly understood his amusement. Dust had settled across both of them far more thoroughly than she had realized. Pale streaks ran along her sleeves and the front of her skirt where she had leaned against crates or knelt on the floor, and Sage himself looked even worse, his skin and hair dusted so completely that he appeared almost grey in the reflection. The sight made her laugh softly despite herself. Exploration, it seemed, had its consequences. When he handed her the damp cloth, she accepted it with a small nod of thanks and wiped the worst of the dust from her hands and sleeves. It did not remove everything—the fine powder clung stubbornly to fabric and skin—but it made them look far less like they had climbed out of an abandoned attic. The quick effort was enough. They would likely end up dirty again once they reached the gardens anyway, and there would be time to bathe properly before any meetings later in the day. It did not take long before they were moving through the castle corridors once more, heading toward the great front doors that opened onto the grounds. The light ahead of them grew steadily brighter as they approached, and Alorha felt a quiet anticipation building in her chest. She had seen glimpses of the gardens from high windows since arriving at the castle, but she had not truly stepped outside to explore them yet. When Sage hesitated briefly at the threshold she noticed the pause, though she did not question it, simply stepping through the open doors and into the sunlight. The change was immediate and refreshing. A cool breeze moved across the open grounds, carrying with it the scent of fresh grass and distant flowers that felt wonderfully alive after the still air inside the castle walls. The gardens stretched farther than she had expected, wide lawns rolling outward from the stone structure while carefully arranged beds of flowers lined the paths that curved between them. Ivy climbed slowly up the castle walls behind them, weaving green patterns against ancient stone, while the hum of bees and the distant call of birds filled the air with soft, natural sound. For a moment Alorha simply stood there and took it in, letting the breeze lift the edge of her hair while her eyes traveled across the landscape. The castle itself looked different from this angle, its towers rising high above the gardens like something out of a story, but the greenery softened the view in a way the interior halls never could. Beside her, Sage seemed almost overwhelmed by the experience. She watched as he stepped out onto the grass barefoot, his attention pulled immediately toward the smallest details around him. He stopped to peer closely at beetles crawling through the blades of grass, bent slightly to watch insects weaving between flowers, and occasionally looked around as though he were seeing the entire place for the first time. There was an open wonder in the way he moved, a quiet joy that made her slow her own pace so she could observe it without interrupting him. She followed a few steps behind, allowing him to explore while she took in the broader view of the garden paths and flowering shrubs around them. The air felt fresh and bright, and for the first time since arriving at the castle she felt a sense of calm settle gently over her thoughts. Then Sage suddenly stopped moving altogether. Curious, Alorha stepped closer and saw what had captured his attention. A butterfly had landed lightly on the hand he had been using to gesture moments before. For a brief instant neither of them moved. The small creature rested there as though it had chosen his hand deliberately, its wings opening and closing in slow, delicate motions that caught the sunlight with flashes of soft color. Sage stood completely still, his eyes wide with quiet amazement as he watched it, and Alorha found herself smiling faintly at the sight. The entire moment felt strangely peaceful, like a small pause in the middle of everything else—the castle, the responsibilities waiting for them later, the endless rooms still left unexplored. For now there was only the garden, the warmth of the sun, and the quiet flutter of fragile wings resting gently against his hand. |
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Sage hadn't expected there to be quite so much put in the gardens. He knew of bugs and things, of course, but his knowledge of the outdoors mostly came from dirty streets and muddy fields. The bugs there were mostly flies, and mosquitoes - both of which were just annoying. Their bites hurt. They got people sick. There had never been soft grass, or butterflies with soft colors, or flowers blooming in the way these gardens held them all. It was old and new all at the same time. Sage stood stock still as the butterfly landed on him, watching it for well over a minute before his mind caught up to him and he shifted slightly, glancing over at Alorha with a grin forming on his face. "I think you had the right idea to come out here," he noted softly, looking back at the butterfly that was still nestled lightly on his finger. He moved on then, walking along the hedges and other plants, but kept his hand as still as possible to the little animal on his finger could continue to rest there. He wasn't sure why it had picked to land on him, when there were more than plenty sweet smelling flowers around, but he was glad it had. If he was being honest, he'd always wanted a dog or cat as a pet, but that was never something he could have had. He likely never would. So something like this made him feel almost like he had a little animal companion, even if it was just for their stroll through the garden. It was nice. Eventually, though, they made it through most of the main paths, and found themselves near the greenhouses. Since they were going inside, he moved to gently place his hand by a nearby flower, allowing the butterfly to crawl onto it. He watched it for another brief moment as it slipped at the nectar deep inside the petals, a light smile lingering on his face as he did so. He did shift after a bit to glance back at Alorha, making sure she was ready before moving to open the greenhouse door and peer inside. There was no one there, so he opened it further, moving inside with a quiet hum. This one had a lot of herb type plants in it....the medics probably used them and such. He wasn't sure what they were or what they did, but they did smell nice he thought. |
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Morning Snow followed by Sunshine
