The Nine WIP
Standing next to the drapery hung from a ceiling that very few can ascertain its height, Eastman scans the room setting the energetic stage for the proceedings.
First, his spectacled gaze turns to the ancient doors that allow particular access to these events. These living portals appear to be 20 feet tall to most and are forever engraving themselves with records of past Cultivations. Eastman has a polite discussion with Portal imprinting access; permissions for the Abecedarians.
Having been on task since last evening, Eastman considers the color of the drapes for these Abecedarians are divergent in their aims. He decides upon crimson red, a decision only he fully can understand. He secretly hopes that it doesn’t trigger the Abecedarian, Louis. Well not so much actually, he considers with a laugh.
Rubbing his hand along the mahogany table, Eastman doesn’t adjust a thing for this piece has been his 'pièce de résistance' for the last several Cultivations. Terribly modern with a chic heaviness, the surface is hand waxed with the most beautiful natural reflection, providing guidance to those that just ask.
Eastman next rounds the table and holds up his hands. With a slight flick he manifests a mid-table feast of sustenance and libation with the thought that it might as well be porcelain for no one partakes.
Eastman mutters to himself eyes downward shaking his head, though The Nine can hear him as if he was using a megaphone, “I spend days on healing energy and the Abecedarians tend to be too nervous to see that right before them is their remedy.”
Thana strolls over to admire Eastman’s breathtaking repast and places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “And they will be so very hungry and thirsty at the post Cultivation celebration. It is sweet to offer what no Abecedarian so far has been able to sense.” . . .