Rooftop Gardens

-Dalen Capital, Rooftop Garden, Early Morning 3 DSTR-

He left Celeste at his house, he already started that play. He had made a few calls and was lining up the players he would need for the show. He knew things about mortals, had learned things about them. People always saw some order in chaos, they gave meaning to those things that had no meaning. Everyone wanted to believe that everything happens for a reason, and for some it does, but for most of them the gods did not give a damn about their lives.

He would set up a play, a diversion, an event that would bring those who lived lives without meaning a meaning. He was still working out a name for it, but Celest would become a new goddess walking with her people. A living goddess in the flesh with powers to give people meaning to a life, to give them reason. All he needed was to spark the faith.

The carriage her rode in clattered down the street in the early morning hours, his letters sent to the parties he knew he could trust. This visit was because of the deal he worked out earlier the other day.

The carriage stopped, and he left the normal guards and company to make his climb to the rooftop grotto. The place was well known in the capitol, a forest on the top of a building, it was always noticed. The hanging branches of the willow tree and the creeping vines of the ivy. He knew magic sustained it, but it seemed to be a magic of its own. He admired it and was jealous of it.

Orla had talent, born gifted, she was a pairing of two races like himself, though she shared her other half with the fey. He had never dealt with her directly and did as much research on her as he could, but truth was, she was enigmatic, and her life was mostly hidden. He did not find many ready to speak of her, but they did speak of her magic.

He walked under a flowering locust tree, the violet blossoms hung down like some drape or veil he had to pass through. As he did the scent of them was intoxicating. It was like entering another world in the soft morning light.

He stood in his somber clothing. Long grey jacket, buttoned dark vest and silk shirt. His hat was removed, though he was still outside, he was raised as a Druid and knew a sacred spot when he entered it. He might not truly follow the religion, but some habits die hard, and this was one he could never fully remove. He loved nature, it was pure and raw and real, it gave no pretense and asked for none. On those grounds he could find the respect for it.

He looked for Orla in the garden, he was told she was usually there.