Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-17114085-20160701214926/@comment-17114085-20160702191850

(Alright, I'll start.)

Varla-Nal, once again was sitting alone on the balcony of his quarters. He looked at the city below, covering the mountainside in white domes and walkways. In front of him the Adadiren and the marshy forests of Pen Hyarna.

He often sat there just looking out at the world around him, thinking. He reached out to the flower next to him and plucked a petal. He then walked over to the railing and opening his hand, letting the wind take the petal away.

Soon his court would be convening and he'd need to head to the throne room. He disliked going there, the throne room was open to all the nobility of the city so whenever he held court they came to watch him decide on the matters of state. If he could he'd leave that task to his wife, or even his brother, but there were matters that the Aran himself needed to attend to. He often wondered how his father dealt with the weight of the crown atop his brow.