There was a chill in the air, but Magdalyn somehow knew that was not the cause for her goostbumps. Instead, it was the heaviness that hung around her, as still and frozen as the countryside. Did the destruction really reach all the way up here? she thought to herself, though her heart already hurt with the reality of it. It seemed that no where in Astorea had been spared. Others milled about as well, joining her in the quest for reconstruction. The once-great city had already been on the decline before Titanius, but no one had seemed to notice. Perhaps because it was tucked so far north? It was no excuse, of course. Now that the stone lay in heaps, other tell-tale signs were more obvious - an overgrown patch of something here, a rotted wooden roof over there. How had they missed the signs? Now the city was receiving the tender loving care that it so desperately needed, and the mere notion of it twisted Mags' gut. Was this was it took to bring a community together? A tragedy? But was that not always the case? She grit her teeth against the thought and the cold, and stooped to tug at a particularly large, awkwardly shaped block of stone. This had been a church, from the looks of it, and the way that the others spoke in hushed voices sort of honored that. It also unnerved her, prompting the blue-haired woman to focus all of her attention, and all of her energy, on clearing the wreckage. @Aristides
Aristides had wondered before what kind of God or gods the people of TerraSphere worshiped. Due to his own beliefs he'd spent time reading about the different spirits and their represented powers, gifts, churches, cults, etc., but this was the first time he'd seen one like...this. A ruin of its former self, scattered about in stone wreckage and filth alike. It tugged at his heart in ways he couldn't easily explain. Still, agony or not, he was strong enough to help sort through the rubble and try to salvage what there was to save and repair what had been lost, so that was his task for today. With Heroic Strength and a surge of willpower he was currently sifting through the rubble and tossing to one side what was simply stone, and picking out pieces of statues, candelabras, pews, and the like to consider for re-purposing later. It was something of a triage. This head of a statue is almost entirely unharmed. Tyl, is it? I'll need to see what of the body remains. Keep. This brass candle holder is bent out of shape, but a hammer can fix that. It should be fine. Keep. This looks like it once was the hand of a statue. Not Tyl. It's missing two fingers, and one is smashed utterly. Discard. With a sigh he set aside the broken remains of the hand in the pile of stone and kept working. He only stopped when his ears caught the sound of footprints approaching, echoing through the desecrated hallway--if you could call it that--with a strength and purpose to their step. A player character? He turned his head to look, keen, sapphire-blue eyes sharply observing as he caught sight of a woman with blue hair beginning to clear some rubble. Ah. Good. More people were coming to help. Everyone here had been avoiding him. Maybe it was the serious look on his face, or that he was towering over the majority of the crowd, or that he wore a pair of sharp battle-claws slung over his shoulders. Or it could have been the miniature Titanius that floated a few feet above his head, uselessly drifting with the breeze and not doing anything other than creeping people out. Details. "Mind your step and where you put things. There's more to be salvaged than it looks." @Magdalyn
