Chapter 1 - Part V

From behind the monolithic guard, a young man approached the far end of the hall where Onion and the Archne chef resided. He was diminutive and fair, at least more so than the clunky guard yet was still well built. He was clean cut and with soft hazel eyes, something strange to to see compared both to the golden tinted eyes of the people of the Outer Crest and to the typically blue eyed folk of the east coast of Heilth. He wore a mask of ease and solemnity that was all but ruined by his garb which he wore with an air of unfamiliarity. He was adorned in robes that from Onion's simplistic standards, were reminiscent of a basket of laundry held together by a few well placed ties and sashes. They did not suit the gloom of the dungeon and neither did the man's placid features.

An Eirdren priest perhaps?

The massive and bronzed steel plated guard unlocked the splintered cell door to the pale man and the priest stepped in.

Again, the noise of that unnatural tongue, Onion thought, how vexing. She was not soon to be relieved. The two initiated one long stream of tones and hums and jabbered on like washer women by the river. Onion turned her thoughts inward. Seeking reprieve from the repulsive conversation, she laid down on the cold, hard stone floor and succumbed to the weight of her eyelids. For a moment, she considered the priest's garment, ridiculous in every aspect. What a fool. Soon, however, she was gazing again at the clouds.

Some time later she was awakened to a tickle on her forehead as the hem of the man's robes gently brushed her.

"You are Nü?", The warm sunny day melted away; replaced by the cold stone ceiling of the cell and the upside visage of the blond-haired priest standing over her in his ridiculous outfit. Now, Onion was able to observe the man's outlandish garb up close and had a difficult time taking him seriously. A turquoise, tight, form-fitting long-necked undershirt peeked out of the collar of the over-sized pink robes. A blue sash loosely sat on his waist while a thin white sash crisscrossed at the point between his shoulder blades and around his armpits to cinch the cloth around his arms into some vague version of sleeves. Most startling of all, however, was his accented, but very fluid command of Nüish.