Lucian Grey - The Streets of Ivore, Coach ? Ivore
?I'm not entirely sure myself.? Lucian responded, his general cheer seemingly absent from his voice, replaced by the hollow tune of unfamiliarity and confusion. With the mask of vicious, grey, tangles finally tamed and framing his visage, the contortions of emotion were finally open for his partners eyes. His sharp and angular features were sunken, his brow furrowed and eyes darted with the hue of curiosity while his pale lips pressed hard together to ensure not a word unthought would slip by them.
?My journals mention a secret path to the North in the district of
Dojeran, away from the eyes of even the stalwart Guardians that call the mountains their home.? Lucian grabbed a second of the leather bound books and flicked through the pages just as he had done with the first, his yellow eyes flickering between the tome clutched in his pale fingers and the tinted glass window bolted to the side of their coach.
?A path that goes through the very heart of the mountain.? Lucian examined the empty streets of the district they had found themselves riding through,
Ivore. The roads were maintained, in the loosest sense of the word, with conventional wood and stone buildings lining the way. Everything would have appeared normal were it not for the fragrance of stagnation that sifted through the very being of this part of the city.
Ivore was an isolationist community if there ever was one. The souls that called this realm home retreated to their abodes the moment the hunters had entered the city.
