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Despite being one of the largest mining city within The Dark, Arturil's Gulch wasn't exactly a place that was celebrated, but luck seemed to shine on the citizens when hearing that their upcoming lapidarist would be in charge of creating Prince Elior's brand new crown. Sure, beautiful jewelry was the second largest import from their town next to raw material but this - this wasn't just a nice pair of earrings made for some nobody aristocrat that had no real bearing on The Dark, this was for the future King of The Land of The Light, the people who were a direct result of the death of Ivory's sister.
He could recall his mother's words when he was younger; "letting anger and hatred fester in your gut like that will only give you a stomach ache", or something of the sort - his memory had faded a bit of his mother's details; a waxy film melted onto the sharp images. What she said didn't matter much, Ivory wasn't hungry as he stayed up late tending to the crown. He sat over his desk, carved neatly from obsidian by his mentor in his youth, a faint and small candle offering him all the light he needed as he adjusted his loupes. His fingers held hard-earned callouses on nearly every inch of his palm from countless hours in the mine, their rough texture running along the beautifully polished stones as another memory reared itself in Ivory's mind.
He remembered sitting on his father's lap when he was young, the man towering over him and his once stunted growth. He remembered sitting on the man's lap and closing his eyes as he listened to his grandfather describe what stats looked like, according to his grandfather. "They were like bright white stones, polished to the finest clarity". It hurt, realizing he wouldn't be able to compare notes with his grandfather. Nonetheless he carved at the fine opals that would primarily make up Elior's new crown. When they were done, he would move onto the wire that would hold all of it together. Intricate swirls of metal, each made from Ivory himself. The garnets had already been polished and faceted with a still hand, something his mentor now lacked in his old age. In two days he would emerge to the surface, the first time his ancestors had done so in hundreds of years, and he would get the revenge the Lumineira deserved.
The following day was dedicated to a celebration, of course. It was something he did love about The Dark; because as irresponsible The Council was in Ivory's eyes, the people made the place livable. He woke up late after spending the entire night finishing up the last details of the intricate crown only to be greeted with his neighbors, food in hands as a gift.
"You want to represent all of The Dark while you're up there and you can't do that on an empty stomach!" His one neighbor exclaimed.
He had done plenty on an empty stomach, it wasn't like there was often a choice.
Food soon changed to beautiful arrangements, the arrangement he set neatly in his sister's hands still fresh in his mind before she was sent down the river. He placed them into a vase, the otherwise empty home he shared with his father brightening up briefly. Flowers changed to clothes, though he already had his clothes picked for his overnight excursion. Nonetheless he thanked everyone who offered him their gifts. Lastly was the gift from his father. A box.
It wasn't nearly carved but it was clear effort had been made, the entirety made from a beautiful green jade his father had mined himself. It fit the crown perfectly, resting within the smoothed stone as if it should never leave. His father couldn't meet eyes with Ivory as, through the darkness, a flush of color emerged on the older Elowen's cheeks.
"It was the box I made to hold the necklace I made for your mother." Ivory's father explained, his voice as coarse as the stone he worked every day. Ivory gripped it right and offered a hug just as tightly, gritting his teeth. No one deserved this box, it should be with his mother.
Nonetheless, Ivory offered a smile. His father couldn't understand now but perhaps he would soon. He packed his things in a backpack made of the leather of dried mushrooms, a gift presented to him by his sister. Within it were extra clothes of course, the box that now held the crown, and an obsidian dagger wrapped in his sister's old shawl. It showed his reflection when peering into the blade, his ancestor's eyes staring back at him. He pushed it deep within the bag before he slept, awakening before his father had rose.
He triple-checked everything before lugging the bag onto his back. The travel to the surface would be a long one, a lonely one. Arturil's Gulch was further within the tunnels than many other cities but Ivory knew those tunnels well. He wrapped himself tightly in layers of fabric, his face obscured for protection from the sun as well as the goggles he had worn to protect against sparks while he was a miner. Sure, contact sparks werent the sun but it was something, and he doubted that anyone from The Light would offer anything different.
Hours of trekking throughout the tunnels had been agonizing, especially once seeing the exit he had been certain he would never see. He blinked a bit, his vivid eyes squinting. He wordlessly added his goggles, appearing more like a lost nomad than an honored lapidarist, before showing the guards the box and crown that held it. Just as wordlessly, a cart was whistled over. A beautiful creature was in charge of the cart. "A horse." It wasn't exactly like how his grandfather described it but it wasn't too far off, he noted. He hopped into the back of the cart with a simple nod and held the bag close to his chest. Next stop was Hollowslocke. He could take in the nearly overwhelming differences once he was closer to his target, after. For now, he had to make sure he got to the damn place first.
He could recall his mother's words when he was younger; "letting anger and hatred fester in your gut like that will only give you a stomach ache", or something of the sort - his memory had faded a bit of his mother's details; a waxy film melted onto the sharp images. What she said didn't matter much, Ivory wasn't hungry as he stayed up late tending to the crown. He sat over his desk, carved neatly from obsidian by his mentor in his youth, a faint and small candle offering him all the light he needed as he adjusted his loupes. His fingers held hard-earned callouses on nearly every inch of his palm from countless hours in the mine, their rough texture running along the beautifully polished stones as another memory reared itself in Ivory's mind.
He remembered sitting on his father's lap when he was young, the man towering over him and his once stunted growth. He remembered sitting on the man's lap and closing his eyes as he listened to his grandfather describe what stats looked like, according to his grandfather. "They were like bright white stones, polished to the finest clarity". It hurt, realizing he wouldn't be able to compare notes with his grandfather. Nonetheless he carved at the fine opals that would primarily make up Elior's new crown. When they were done, he would move onto the wire that would hold all of it together. Intricate swirls of metal, each made from Ivory himself. The garnets had already been polished and faceted with a still hand, something his mentor now lacked in his old age. In two days he would emerge to the surface, the first time his ancestors had done so in hundreds of years, and he would get the revenge the Lumineira deserved.
The following day was dedicated to a celebration, of course. It was something he did love about The Dark; because as irresponsible The Council was in Ivory's eyes, the people made the place livable. He woke up late after spending the entire night finishing up the last details of the intricate crown only to be greeted with his neighbors, food in hands as a gift.
"You want to represent all of The Dark while you're up there and you can't do that on an empty stomach!" His one neighbor exclaimed.
He had done plenty on an empty stomach, it wasn't like there was often a choice.
Food soon changed to beautiful arrangements, the arrangement he set neatly in his sister's hands still fresh in his mind before she was sent down the river. He placed them into a vase, the otherwise empty home he shared with his father brightening up briefly. Flowers changed to clothes, though he already had his clothes picked for his overnight excursion. Nonetheless he thanked everyone who offered him their gifts. Lastly was the gift from his father. A box.
It wasn't nearly carved but it was clear effort had been made, the entirety made from a beautiful green jade his father had mined himself. It fit the crown perfectly, resting within the smoothed stone as if it should never leave. His father couldn't meet eyes with Ivory as, through the darkness, a flush of color emerged on the older Elowen's cheeks.
"It was the box I made to hold the necklace I made for your mother." Ivory's father explained, his voice as coarse as the stone he worked every day. Ivory gripped it right and offered a hug just as tightly, gritting his teeth. No one deserved this box, it should be with his mother.
Nonetheless, Ivory offered a smile. His father couldn't understand now but perhaps he would soon. He packed his things in a backpack made of the leather of dried mushrooms, a gift presented to him by his sister. Within it were extra clothes of course, the box that now held the crown, and an obsidian dagger wrapped in his sister's old shawl. It showed his reflection when peering into the blade, his ancestor's eyes staring back at him. He pushed it deep within the bag before he slept, awakening before his father had rose.
He triple-checked everything before lugging the bag onto his back. The travel to the surface would be a long one, a lonely one. Arturil's Gulch was further within the tunnels than many other cities but Ivory knew those tunnels well. He wrapped himself tightly in layers of fabric, his face obscured for protection from the sun as well as the goggles he had worn to protect against sparks while he was a miner. Sure, contact sparks werent the sun but it was something, and he doubted that anyone from The Light would offer anything different.
Hours of trekking throughout the tunnels had been agonizing, especially once seeing the exit he had been certain he would never see. He blinked a bit, his vivid eyes squinting. He wordlessly added his goggles, appearing more like a lost nomad than an honored lapidarist, before showing the guards the box and crown that held it. Just as wordlessly, a cart was whistled over. A beautiful creature was in charge of the cart. "A horse." It wasn't exactly like how his grandfather described it but it wasn't too far off, he noted. He hopped into the back of the cart with a simple nod and held the bag close to his chest. Next stop was Hollowslocke. He could take in the nearly overwhelming differences once he was closer to his target, after. For now, he had to make sure he got to the damn place first.