12-26-2013, 01:15 AM
The museum had to be the most pretentious excuse for a gala the mage Arik had ever heard of, not a single noble in the beautiful halls of stone and artifact all meticulously labeled by the royal collage, not a one of them had any interest in the opening, or in a single artifact in the room. Though to be fair neither did the elven man himself could have cared less for chipped pieces of pottery as he wandered the crowd, adopting every air of high elven serenity, arcane wisdom, and the exoticness of an outlander, putting it all together to make himself one of the most talked about person in the room after only an hour of mingling.
Tall and built like a willow with pointed ears the faint tan of his skin and waving strawberry locks around Arik's shoulders all spoke of an elf who in youth must have been as handsome as some of the paints housed, but now, appearing to be in his mid 40s, with the strawberry and gold fading from his tied back locks, and lines marking many seasons of frowns around his lips, it was clear he had seen his share of the world.
Though the well fitted mages robes that billowed about him would convince many he had seen worlds beyond count, oh how Arik only wished that to be true as he adopted a relaxed smile and began to wander towards the main podium where a man in college gown was speaking, surrounded by several other men in fine atire or scholars robes also, ceremoniously uncorking a bottle of some ancient looking draft, said to have been preserved through time by the magics of the Atalian empire long ago.
Arik only scoffed in amusement and wondered if they really thought mages saved bottles of mead with wards to last the centuries as he found a somewhat out of the way nook between marble pillars to watch the proceedings, his eyes scanning the crowd for anyone if interest to him, he was tired of playing a the part and brushing all the right elbows.
Tall and built like a willow with pointed ears the faint tan of his skin and waving strawberry locks around Arik's shoulders all spoke of an elf who in youth must have been as handsome as some of the paints housed, but now, appearing to be in his mid 40s, with the strawberry and gold fading from his tied back locks, and lines marking many seasons of frowns around his lips, it was clear he had seen his share of the world.
Though the well fitted mages robes that billowed about him would convince many he had seen worlds beyond count, oh how Arik only wished that to be true as he adopted a relaxed smile and began to wander towards the main podium where a man in college gown was speaking, surrounded by several other men in fine atire or scholars robes also, ceremoniously uncorking a bottle of some ancient looking draft, said to have been preserved through time by the magics of the Atalian empire long ago.
Arik only scoffed in amusement and wondered if they really thought mages saved bottles of mead with wards to last the centuries as he found a somewhat out of the way nook between marble pillars to watch the proceedings, his eyes scanning the crowd for anyone if interest to him, he was tired of playing a the part and brushing all the right elbows.