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The city of Eantasyl is fortunate in its placement, and is considered old for even an elven city. The streets are some kind of shimmery stone, the buildings neatly arranged and well maintained. It's pleasant, and generally considered a nice place for the rich to retire. There's a noticeable lack of greenery and foliage on the streets themselves - the place is kept very dense, and it's can be guessed that its citizens thought they had enough foliage already. It sits at the base of one of the very first world trees. One could be forgiven for missing the city for the tree - it's several thousand feet tall, and its branches bring shade to more than half of Eantasyl. They do not need gardens. They have enough to spare, up in the sky.

(The leaves are a pain to rake.)

Despite many of its flaws (and there are many) the Sunrise Empire isn't actually a horrible place to live. This place especially. Just steer clear of the government, keep your head down, don't join any rebellions, and don't break any laws, and you'll be fine. Probably. Unless there are dangerous criminals running around, causing trouble.

But that hardly ever happens. The Ministry has it all under control.
aestrix: (Default)
Raezenoth has sent his manifested form to sleep. He doesn't need it to sleep, it could (and has) gone years and years without such, but sometimes it's nice to not have a body. To go back to how he was in the beginning - a whisper on the wind, a swirl of desert sands, the rustle of the sparse grass. All of his domain, instead of split and splintered and crammed into flesh for the convenience of having hands. Anywhere in it, instead of forced to move at his (admittedly considerable, for a god) top speed. He isn't sorry to have a manifested form, isn't sorry to walk among mortals and call them friend. But he is a god. He doesn't always have to have a body. So he doesn't.

He tidies up his domain. He finds people who need things, who want things, and slips in items that would let them get what they need, and then what they want, by their own power. He's very accustomed to this, he's had a lot of practice, but he tries to outdo himself every chance he gets. Tries to inspire his followers to a little bit more of that stubborn brilliance he loves in mortals so. Tries to help them improve. The mortals make the god, after all. It is the greatest irony, he thinks.

He is the wind, and the ground, and the water beneath it, and he is all of the little things that help people without snatching away their ability to help themselves. It's nice. Quiet. Soothing, after his recent near-mistake involving deleting slavery from existence.

He'll have a visitor soon. He'll wake his body up for that, it's bound to be interesting if nothing else.

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