Imagi-Nethat

Alseneth stood outside Dameri’s jail, an imposing stone building that stood out from those surrounding it by bearing no wood in its construction and no decoration to liven up its facade. While its barred windows promised plenty of natural light inside, its very nature carried an air of foreboding, and Al was hesitant to actually enter. He could not fully put a claw on why he was here, only that he had been feeling restless ever since the news of Illoter’s arrest. A full half of the suspects had been arrested, judging from the chatter around the Dozen Days, though Al was not familiar with all of those now confined inside the jail in front of him. He hadn’t once spoken to the aspirant Inondi, despite Mahavira pointing her out as one he should watch. Illoter, though. From his investigations, Al believed the niravar to be innocent. Innocent of being a Stoneflayer infiltrator, at least. If he was willing to cut ties with family for being connected to the Stoneflayers, Al could not

Alseneth left the main hall feeling mightily offended. How dare Zeixen suggest he look anything less than stunning in his own natural appearance? His mane was full and perfectly brushed, and the gemstones adorning his horns and coat glinted as brightly as the stained glass in the ceiling above. Clearly this nir did not have nearly the eye for fashion that they thought they did. Even so, Al had put on a politely strained face and asked Zeixen if there was anything they needed. They’d sent him to pick up books. At least it was a solo errand, and he didn’t have to continue pretending to be interested in Zeixen’s plans to earn every accolade under the sun once they became a magus. The path from the great hall to the library was short and well-worn. When Al stepped inside, he had to pause to take in the view, as he had to in practically every building in the Dozen Days. Libraries weren’t really his thing, but even he had to appreciate this one. Several floors rose above him

Alseneth wandered the grounds of the Dozen Days, searching for a particular path. Of the suspects, he had chosen Illoter to investigate. Nervous looks and mystery benefactors had him rather suspicious, but he didn’t want to confront the magus directly. Instead, he hoped to gather information more covertly. The best way to do that, Al thought, would be to hang out where Illoter did. It didn’t take much asking around to figure out that the magus favored the bath house. Al had not been there himself, but was told it would not be hard to find, situated at the edge of the fortress. Just past the kitchens, he found what he was looking for. The outside was unassuming stone, but as soon as he stepped through the doors, Al was greeted by warm, humid air and brightly colored tiles under his paws. The bathhouse. Mist drifted from heated pools and floated through the building, lit golden by light streaming through large windows high on the walls. The sound of running water could be