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Posted on June 6, 2016 at 01:13:15 AM by anapa
Anapa wasn’t sure about his new clothes. They were tight-fitting and held in place by odd contraptions: small metal circles which poked through holes, strangely stretchy holes to put his limbs through, and a few very odd metal edges with teeth which clung together. They were far removed from the loose cotton garments he wore at home, fastened only with strips of fabric. Even though these clothes were harder to put on, there weren’t any servants specifically employed to clothe people. Or, at least, none which had been assigned to Anapa. A blushing chamber maid had taken pity on him and helped him the first day, but after that he’d had to fumble about himself. It was a relief when his own clothes, which had been confiscated for washing, were returned to him on the third day. They made him stand out in a way he was entirely comfortable with, but they were the only reminder left of a normal life.
The robes, black, hung loosely but elegantly from his slender, wiry frame. Black was a rare colour for clothes back in Canidia, usually reserved for higher ranking members of the cult of death. The colour wasn’t especially uncommon here, although the style was.
At home, Anapa had always had a knack for moving about unnoticed; here, it was like everyone took every opportunity to ogle him wherever he went. People even stepped out of side-chambers to watch him pass in the corridor, whispering to each other. Presumably that was due to his dramatic arrival, since he had been assured by his chamber maid that he wasn’t the only ‘alien’ here. She’d chatted extensively about a pointy-eared guard with a ‘fancy horse’ who had apparently also come from another world while she tidied his bed.
Anapa was used to the whispering, but not so much the staring. He would stare back coolly, which immediately deterred the shame-faced and eventually creeped out the rest.
At first, he sought refuge in the library, hoping to find out some more about this world without having to ask questions. That plan failed when he realised that his new grasp of the dominant language didn’t extend to written words. Thanks a lot, Mallos.
At a loss for what else to do, confused by unfamiliarity at every turn and increasingly irritated with the dim-witted plebeians who considered him a novelty, he sought an exit. Perhaps he could find somewhere quiet outdoors to practice magic. Tetaba, his tutor back home, would cut him to pieces with a withering glare if he neglected practice for too long.
Unfortunately, getting out wasn’t nearly as easy as getting in. Anapa wandered the winding corridors for what felt like an age, ignoring the faces poking out of doors as he passed. He had a light tread; how did they even hear him coming? After a left-turn brought him back to the same annoying hallway with the same annoying faces, Anapa seriously considered conjuring another death portal to escape with. That’d give them something worth staring at.
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