Storms of Truth (HIATUS)

15 (REVISED)

FALORA

It didn't take long for a sky island to appear from the billowing clouds of watery mist. Many of her books failed to do the islands justice. Father's paintings splattered a pale comparison. Buildings built out of the very stone of the island blended into the picturesque truth. Tiny crags hung off the island to protect the inhabitants from a harsh fall. Misty creeks slipped off their points to feed into the other clouds.

Falora stood beside Orilion while they waited for Alexavier to conclude his business with the dispatched aether creature. Soft, sweet smells filled her nose with the sizzle of someone's cooking. Zyle stood closeby, writing in a thick tome while Alex spoke with the butcher. Her attention drifted along the area — to memorise the angles of the buildings, the way the Azarian's lived. Children giggled and used their horns to catch small hoops thrown by their friends. Her heart swelled with a strange sense of serenity, so far away from the ground and in the clouds themselves. In a garden, a young Azarian woman plucked fruit from a short, stout tree's branches, ruffling the blue leaves for added sprinkles. Falora turned to Zyle. "Is food ever a concern up here? I can't imagine it's easy to take down aetherbeasts."

"It isn't," Zyle said and tucked the book under his arm. "Small towns like this don't have the same tactical advantages of Azarian cities. It's a quiet life, but we can go longer than Lander's without food." He smiled at her with a nod at the harvested tree. "We supplement that fact with skyfruits and vegetables. Our agriculture is specialised for these climes to last a long time and fill longer too."

"Ah, to be descended from the dragons who were notorious meat-lovers if stories are to be believed," Alexavier said when he returned to them with a wave. "He's preparing the cargo for moving and then we'll get back on our journey." He nudged her. "So, first sky island in your life, what do you think?"

Falora hummed in wonder and cursed herself for leaving her sketchbook on the airship. In her peripheral vision, Orilion observed the area with broad movements, resting on the Azarian children when one tried to spin a few of the hoops with a weak air elemental. The bundle dropped to their feet, and they pouted while their friends giggled. Falora smiled at the show of innocence and found her answer within it. "It's... pleasant. Down on the lower lands everything just seems... smaller now that I'm up here." Arms out, she caught the gentle breeze and found her breath among it. "Certainly different from living in a harbour town."

"I'm sure." Alexavier beamed, but his gaze flicked off to her side. "Your friend sure has gotten used to it fast though — like he might've been born among us in another life. You were so concerned about the loss of his memories... ever thought that there are other ways we retain memories?" Falora quirked in confusion when he pointed, and she followed his direction.

Orilion knelt with the children who remained awestruck when he drew the air elemental with ease around the hoops to create moving forms of creatures made from a child's imagination and ingenuity. Panic almost made her rush forward on the wings of religious history and the cruelty written down but never seen, but she ran straight into Alexavier's arm. Orilion passed off the hoops slowly to the child in front of him, letting the air drop into their hands instead. Laughter bubbled from them when they attempted to copy Orilion's movements, with the others poking at the dancing hoops.

"Sir Skeptic seems happy," Alexavier remarked when Orilion hid a smile behind his hand when the Azarian child created a dragon with the hoops, flapping its wings and their arms along with it. "Why are you worried?"

"Just—" Falora sucked in her tongue and drowned in shame. "I don't know why I'm worried."

Alexavier appeared to let her stumble slide to return to the butcher when he came out hauling strange canisters seeping out mist from their tops. Runes painted along the tops, swept with swirls and clouds. He nodded and passed a couple of coins over to the butcher. "Let's make this one trip, shall we?" he called over to them when the butcher returned to his shop after helping Alexavier load the containers onto a small carriage. "Do you two mind helping me get these rations on the ship? You too, Sir Skeptic!"