#Damarketh knew all too well that the Council of Sooths would not look kindly upon his search, nor would they easily welcome him back if his efforts were discovered. That is why stealth was not only important but in fact vital for tonight's deeds. The Council had eyes everywhere, spies everywhere, and he should know having recruited many of them. The wet stone of dark alleys glinted with moonlight and shadows seemingly tracked him from street to corner and back down yet another alley. She was not hiding from him, but the effect of her needed discretion was the same. He would need to be alert for signs of the clues that had brought him this far. He would need to keep keen his senses, of course, and yet always at least one string of his heart on the pulse of #perfective energies that guided him where sights and sounds could not. She may be hiding, but through those energies she would be calling out to him, leading him towards her. And she was close. So close. "Damarketh." called a harmony of voices from the street behind him, and for a moment he thought that somewhere in that chorus was her. He froze in his tracks and took one more breath before turning on his heel to face who had reached out with the perfective call, that multitude of simultaneous speakers projected into his head so that the eerie quiet of the streets was yet broken by more than footsteps. "I am." He replied in the usual fashion. The search would need to wait for another night.
[ 272 words | 2022-11-29 ]

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Daily story prompt for THIS STORY was:
Write a fantasy story about a philosopher that is hunting for a secret friend.