Lines of Gold, hidden in Grey Skies: The Rain and the Wanderer

Rain, always damnable rain.
Kolymbra never liked rain all too much, she'd have to admit. And the rain of this dimension wasn't anything of particular interest, even. Earth-like and primitive, the locals just barely having discovered the potency of gunpowder. The technology the lorridian wielded might as well have been magic to them, her humming drone-wings more akin to astral beings than the technological marvels they were in reality.
Well, "marvels" might be pushing it a little.

Walking up a hill, Kolymbra instinctively traced her gloved fingers across the bark of a tree. Far from the smooth, spiralling "Seglaads" of her home. Listenning to the rustles of its canopy however, she'd realize the rain was coming to a close.
She looked to the sky, and paused.
Swirling, grey clouds. Storm-weather, no doubt, but devoid of rain. Like the rasp hiss of a Vrauken, but without the venomous curse-spew.
It almost..It almost reminded her of..
Home.


Kolymbra sat on the grey grass, staring up at a painting-like sky of dark, snaking clouds in layers upon layers, rays of gold-light ebbing and flowing along the outlines of the clouds.
Arms wrapped around her knees, she looked down across the fields, from her hilltop view, seeing the meadows shift through a whole spectrum of color in the wind before her. She didn't recall why she was upset that day, though it likely related to matters of state. Another botched performance of regality, perhaps? Another moment of disappointment to the family?

It didn't matter much. But what did matter was that it was before the plague. Before sickness, before death.



Kolymbra sighed, leaned up against the old, oak tree, staring blankly into the sky.
Better times. She wouldn't call it so back when she lived through it, though it was the last calm, peaceful memory of home, where everything was relatively peaceful.

It was one of her last memories before she had to witness the collapse.
Gah, sentiments! She didn't have time to linger on these thoughts, lest her chance of finding the, allegedly, famed healer of this land would slip from her fingers.
Kicking off the tree and straight into a run, Kolymbra's drone-wings swooped down and connected to the shoulders of her flight-suit, before she swiftly took off.
"Better not be a bloody hoax this time."