something old, something new
I’m having kind of a bad day, so I spent my lunch break writing pure unadulterated fluff to make myself feel better.
Perc’ahlia, 1100-ish words, after the Chroma Conclave.
There’s an airship on the outskirts of Whitestone.
To be more accurate: there’s a battered, broken down airship on the outskirts of Whitestone. Percy doesn’t believe it when he first hears people gossiping about it, but curiosity has him traveling to the abandoned farm almost immediately. And sure enough, it’s an airship, haphazardly tethered to the old barn. Percy stares at it for a while, along with the small crowd of Whitestone citizens who have gathered. “Where did it come from, Lord Percival?” a woman asks.
He can only shake his head. “I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”