Through the looking glass [bendytimed to some time when s!@% isn't getting real]

[crusades]

Welcome to Nanda Parbat, the hidden city. Squirreled away in the mountains of Tibet, an ancient temple preserving spiritual teachings that would otherwise have been lost centuries ago, takes refuge from the world under a wing of cliff face and blizzard. There are flowers here that grow nowhere else on Earth, flowers that can only grow here. Few know of its existence, fewer still of its location.

Batman could find it for you.

Of course, when your canvas is the sensoriums, the only place that he need look for it is inside his own head. A little paradoxically, the very purpose of Nanda Parbat is to aid those who traverse the depths of the mind. Of the soul, if you're the type who believes in that sort of thing.

One wall of the great stone temple fortress is built into the mountainside itself, and into the wall, passages to the many ice caverns - nature's halls of mirrors - within the rock. One of these caverns harbours a demon, black as the enshrouding darkness of the mountain tunnels, black as pitch. He's not expecting company.

Bruce doesn't remember when he had extinguished the sole candle that lit his passage into the cavern or what how his visage had seemed when refracted through the misty looking glasses of ice that covers the innermost chamber, but neither are important.

Who's curious enough to find out what is?

Comments

oh awesome.

[foreseen-future.livejournal.com]

If Nura was paying attention to her talent for nuance and detail, she would very well have noticed those fresh prints in the snow. But she's too caught up in the sights. She climbs a pair of steps to the top, where she gets an even better view of where exactly she is.

She opens her mouth to let out a silent, "Wow..." It's even more breath-taking from this view...

[crusades]

Her host even put the effort into populating it. Sparsely, he'll admit, but nonetheless the odd monk or pilgrim can be seen toing and froing about the retreat. Even so, it's deadly quiet, the atmosphere palpitating with a hushed reverence.

[foreseen-future.livejournal.com]

Nura moves around. High-heels making clack clack sounds on the stones as she weaves around the monks and pilgrims, a look of intrigue upon her face. Occasionally, she brushes shoulders with the people, turning here and there, but she barely notices the feeling...or is it no feeling? She grasps her hands in her skirt, going up and then down steps.

One may think she's following a few monks like a child trained on something interesting.

[crusades]

To the west of the complex, away from the shadow of mountain where the light lingers longest and the winds blow mildest, are the greeneries. An odd term, given that the flowerbeds are hardly verdant. Everything is lush scarlet and vibrant ivory.

Several of the monks take up work serenely pruning the flowers.

[foreseen-future.livejournal.com]

Nura crouches by a flowerbed, running the tips of her fingers across the dirt, and cupping a couple blooms tenderly in her hands. She'd never seen anything like these flora in her entire life. She bends down and brings one to her face, feeling the texture of the petals brush against the tip of her nose and tickle her olfactory senses.

"Mmmm," she murmurs.

[crusades]

One of the monks working the greeneries appears to be methodically cutting the blossom from one particular genus and collecting them in a wicker handbasket. As he passes Nura, he presents her with one. It only looks like a delicate little thing, barely a whisp of anything, but it's surprisingly resilient when handled.

Having finished with his mediation, Bruce has left his chamber and stands as if he presides over the scene, "Those flowers often survive months, sometimes even years without food, water, or soil. No one but the monks know how it's done."

[foreseen-future.livejournal.com]

Nura accepts the blossom with a sweet "thank you" to the monk. She delicately holds it in her hands close to her body, craning her neck so that she can twirl the flower's stem between her fingers beneath her nose. "Hmmmm..." she sighs contently, seating herself on the ground. It's so peaceful here...

When she hears someone speak, she turns her head to the voice with an initial smile of warm greeting. When she really sees who it is that is talking to her, her smile grows ten-fold. She wryly says, getting to her feet, "So I guess it's a best kept secret, hmm?"

[crusades]

"There are rumours," he replies, "Some say they're bound to the soul of the hand that cultivates them. The greater care taken, the longer they live after cutting."

Bruce is given a flower of his own, and he's invested in the simulation enough to give a curt nod of acknowledgement in return, "It's one of the few things they keep to themselves. This is a place of learning, after all."

[foreseen-future.livejournal.com]

Nura brings the flower to her nose and takes a sniff. It smells so good... "It sounds true. They really do handle the blossoms with great amounts of care."

She lifts her head up and looks back at him, smiling. "I can imagine so. There's something very spiritual about this place."

[crusades]

"If you believe in that sort of thing," he replies, wryly, "You're Dream Girl, correct?"

[crysteel-future.livejournal.com]

Actually, I do, she thinks.

"That's right. But you can call me Nura if you'd like. Most people do."