The castle is a familiar kind of setting when one is used to living in a cathedral. Even if the hallways are scarce, it's not much different from some of the more forgotten about corridors in the structure that made up the heart of Daath.
At first he'd thought it a dream and settled for exploring it until he eventually woke up, because the architecture doesn't resemble either Kimlasca's or Malkuth's. The grandeur of their capitols, perhaps, but neither the presence of machinery for the former, nor enough magic for the second-- what's there was innate rather than controlled. And then it lasts longer than a dream, and then on a whim he'd found himself reaching for the pulse of the world and the people in it and came up... foggy.
No one gives him the invitation. He wakes up from where he'd made himself temporarily comfortable in one of the bedrooms with a card on his bedside table, and, well, for all the good knowing has ever done him he still would like to know more about this place than less.
So there he is, making his way slowly and quietly but not tentatively around the ballroom. He's felt surprisingly well, despite the faint lingering fatigue, so the staff he carries spends more time being ornamental than leaned on for support.
He doesn't make much of a move toward either the food or other people, but he'll greet anyone who approaches him with a warm smile. Maybe he's just shy?
let's add a +1 for using a mingle as an intro
At first he'd thought it a dream and settled for exploring it until he eventually woke up, because the architecture doesn't resemble either Kimlasca's or Malkuth's. The grandeur of their capitols, perhaps, but neither the presence of machinery for the former, nor enough magic for the second-- what's there was innate rather than controlled. And then it lasts longer than a dream, and then on a whim he'd found himself reaching for the pulse of the world and the people in it and came up... foggy.
No one gives him the invitation. He wakes up from where he'd made himself temporarily comfortable in one of the bedrooms with a card on his bedside table, and, well, for all the good knowing has ever done him he still would like to know more about this place than less.
So there he is, making his way slowly and quietly but not tentatively around the ballroom. He's felt surprisingly well, despite the faint lingering fatigue, so the staff he carries spends more time being ornamental than leaned on for support.
He doesn't make much of a move toward either the food or other people, but he'll greet anyone who approaches him with a warm smile. Maybe he's just shy?