Just south of bustling Downtown Arcadia is a small elven suburb known as Bamboo Park, a cheerful community that is largely self-sufficient, relying on their own trade rather than the business of the Downtown tourists. The massive bamboo shoots that sprout from every building and through the streets give the Park it’s namesake, but the flora of the district is diverse, with towering shade-giving flowers, and homes built into giant cherry blossoms. A long cobblestone street winds throughout, serving as a kind of Main Street for the elven merchants. Among the carpenters and blacksmiths, bars and restaurants, museums and bookstores, is an apothecary marked only with a simple wooden sign marked ‘Klowdis’. Within that apothecary is a Wind Elf.
Klowdi is slender and beautiful, as her race tends to be. Her long sky-blue hair wafts behind her as she wanders throughout her store, singing sweetly to herself and collecting various jars. Her bare feet scurry and dance lightly across the wooden floors, her yellow sundress twirling. The daylight streaming through the windows catches the little clouds of particles that waft the herbs and flora of the shop, and Klowdi grins as the familiar smells tickle her nose. She places the jars onto her counter, then proceeds to grind them into a paste with her mortar and pestal.
The little silver bell above her door chimes.
Klowdi looks up from her work, but nobody is there. Slowly, she puts her tools down and creeps across the floor, her bare feet hardly displacing a mote dust as she moves towards the door. She pulls the handle and sticks her head out of her store front, her brows furrowed suspiciously, but all she sees in the bumbling traffic of Bamboo Park. She is about to close the door, when she sees something out of the corner of her elven eye.
There is a massive piece of graffiti spray-painted onto the side of an apartment building. The big bold letters are masterfully painted in gold and pink, curving and swirling into each other. Klowdi locks the door to her shop behind her, and steps out into the street, her jaw open.
The graffiti says
HEY KLOWDI, COME HERE
***
Klowdi is slender and beautiful, as her race tends to be. Her long sky-blue hair wafts behind her as she wanders throughout her store, singing sweetly to herself and collecting various jars. Her bare feet scurry and dance lightly across the wooden floors, her yellow sundress twirling. The daylight streaming through the windows catches the little clouds of particles that waft the herbs and flora of the shop, and Klowdi grins as the familiar smells tickle her nose. She places the jars onto her counter, then proceeds to grind them into a paste with her mortar and pestal.
The little silver bell above her door chimes.
Klowdi looks up from her work, but nobody is there. Slowly, she puts her tools down and creeps across the floor, her bare feet hardly displacing a mote dust as she moves towards the door. She pulls the handle and sticks her head out of her store front, her brows furrowed suspiciously, but all she sees in the bumbling traffic of Bamboo Park. She is about to close the door, when she sees something out of the corner of her elven eye.
There is a massive piece of graffiti spray-painted onto the side of an apartment building. The big bold letters are masterfully painted in gold and pink, curving and swirling into each other. Klowdi locks the door to her shop behind her, and steps out into the street, her jaw open.
The graffiti says
HEY KLOWDI, COME HERE
***
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