Belamia

---

Fantastic lore by Gubyub!

The Mirror sniffles, wiping his snout and pulling his kilt a little upward. His paper on her desk built by himself crinkles as he moves it around, being perfectly positioned before a ruler sets down on top, a writing utensil skimming against its side and the paper simultaneously. It marks the parchment with a long, thin line, similar to the others that appeared to be on the paper as well.

It’s deeply dark in the room he sits in, the only light coming from his floating candles that hover over him and his table. They give off a gentle glow, just strong enough to see around and allow his eyes to adjust to the rest of the darkness. It can get rather difficult sometimes with his poor eyesight, and even though he has a monocle, it’s unfortunately only good at looking nice, not fixing his vision. Glasses were an option, of course, but they’re a bit more on the bland side.

Belamia continues tracing lines and figure across the paper with his tool, dragging the pencil carefully and precisely. For a Mirror with vision problems, he’s incredibly fantastic at the trait, mostly stemming from his job as an architect. She’s designed the majority of the buildings that exist in Fajr, and managed to build at least part of all of them. Belamia, for numerous, obvious reasons, is the main chief of building plans and structures.
Well, who else would do it? The newer generations of builders and others alike look like they’re getting clueless without her expertise, as expected of course. Someone needs to be there like an overseer in case something bad happens, as it does at least once whenever he’s there anyway.

With that last thought, he rolls her eyes, then shivers. His library he tends to work in stands closer up to the mountains in Fajr, fairly cooler than normal. Without much lighting from small flames, as it’d take too long to keep lighting them repeatedly, and no windows to help warm sunlight breach the room, it’s always cold where he works.

He sighs, placing his pencil in a cup holder on the desk and gently rolls up his blueprints, putting it into a drawer attached to the side of the worktable. Scooting his chair out, he steps off his stool, stretching a little and yawning as he pushes it back under the desk with his tail. Once he’s done, he slowly paces towards the library’s exit, a quiet clacking of talons and ambient fire crackling following where he moves. Belamia steps over a few sprawled books and papers while he walks, all of them somewhat related to scriptures for more blueprints and personal, trashed notes from years ago.

He finally reaches the main doors, pushing against them strongly with a few grunts. The doors were made for drakes of all sizes, from the smallest of Faes using a slot built into one, to the heftiest of Imperials using the entire door itself. Unfortunately, even with his expertise, there wasn’t a good work-around for the more middle-sized breeds, which sadly includes Mirrors. The best thing they could do was build some sort of “middle-grounds” kind of exit, where the biggest door chunk has a thick lever to the side to open them if they’re too heavy.

After a few more failed attempts, he pauses, taking a breather before shuffling to the device hanging to his far left slowly. He grumbles to himself while he reaches for the lever and pulls it, changing his attention to the expansive doors to his close side. The wood groans with age of bare use as it widens, creating an opening just large enough for Belamia to walk through.

Morning sunlight starts to peek through the growing crack when he proceeds through the exit. He covers his eyes from the sudden burst of light after being cooped up in the library for a few hours with nothing but candlelight. Belamia pulls his feathered beret over his eyes a little as he begins to make the trek down the long path down to a more congregated town nearby. It’s good for him to go out a few times to the populated areas of Fajr, since practically no one visits the library and that’s at least the majority of the time where he always is. It even worries the others sometimes too; Belamia has been asked numerous times by Thelmael about where he’s been, but the answer’s generally the same: his favorite library. The old Mirror doesn’t understand why it’s so much of a concern; it’s pretty easy to find him.

Speaking of him, the Spiral had been doing his laps around Fajr when he arrived nearby the place Belamia was just leaving and spotted him making his long way towards the town. To Belamia’s perspective, it’s a very nice and windy morning when, up and suddenly, Themael just appears from the skies right above him and heads for him, yelling something almost unintelligible.

“… Belamia! Hey!”

Belamia’s crest twitches as he raises his head to look for the source, sighing a moment later before continuing downward. He murmurs, “What’s that crazy Spiral doin’ up there now. . .?”
Themael keeps dashing downward towards the tired Mirror, slowing his speed the closer he came until he was down to a few feet away. He lands easily on his feet, trotting to Belamia’s side and matching his pace. He greets warmly, “Hey, Belamia!
”
“… good morning, Thelmael,” the Mirror responds, facing forward. “I assume you were up there for your routinely check around Fajr?”

Thelmael nods, kicking away a small rock. “Y’know, it’d be a little more fun if you helped me out. Aren’t we both the peacekeepers here?”

“I’m aware, though we’re not the only ones. We just happen to do it more frequently than them. Either way, I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

The Spiral frowns, his ears flattening. “You know why I’m asking though, right?”

He grumbles, “I said I’m fine alone. Why must you keep pushing about it?”

“I just… well, it’s not exactly healthy to be cooped up in that library for so long...”

“Velor stays in that library all day,” Belamia chides back. “Sevra is always in her studio making something. You don’t say anything to them about that though.”

Thelmael sighs. “They both tend to leave where they work a lot more commonly than you do. Both Velor and Serva like to explore Fajr more than you do-”

“Then let them do what they want to do, just like me. There’s nothing much for me to do anyway, besides make blueprints and check Fajr sometimes. I know I’m still the peacekeeper, but I’m not the only one who does that job.”

“… I must’ve taken you at a bad time…”

Belamia pauses walking, turning his head towards the concerned Spiral. Themael has also stopped in front of him as well, listening intently. The annoyed Mirror huffs quietly. “Just… stop asking me about this. You should know my response by now. I’m fine, and I always have been. What’s the problem with me being alone?”

“Belamia, you’re always in a room with no light, no windows, and for hours on end with not another soul inside. The library is somewhere pretty secluded from everything else, somewhere closer to the mountains, so it’s colder too. Doesn’t that sound like I should worry? Especially for someone your age?”
He thinks for a moment, pondering his words. Belamia is a bit old, his age explaining how he was able to build so many structures throughout his life, but not that old. He’s perfectly able to tend to himself. He can’t blame the guy for worrying though. Belamia sighs. “Maybe… That doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”

“I’m aware… I just wish you’d check in with us more often, that’s all…” Thelmael curls his tail in a little. “I’m not the only one of us who wonders this, you know.”

“Hmm… I wasn’t aware of that... I don’t mean to worry any of you, honest.”

The Spiral waves a claw. “Don’t worry, we don’t think so. You see where we’re coming from though, yes? You don’t really talk to anyone unless you need to.”
Belamia shifts in place; something crinkles in his pouch to his side. Curious, he reaches inside and pulls out his blueprint he was working on earlier, studying it intently. He can sense Thelmael peeking over his shoulder.

“Is that one of your projects?” It was always impressive to the Spiral to see Belamia’s work whenever he can; Belamia usually hides it away from everybody except for Velor for archiving purposes.

He responds quietly, “Uh, yes, it is… I was working on it before I left this morning.”

Thelmael grins, still inspecting the paper incredibly. “Velor’s lucky to see these. What’s it to build?”

“Listen,” Belamia starts, placing the paper back into his satchel. Completely ignoring his last question, he continues, “I appreciate the worry, but you’re making me sound like I’m going to turn into dust soon. I’m old, but definitely not that old.”

Thelmael leans back, looking embarrassed. “Sorry then.”

He nods, then proceeds down the path again, Thelmael at his side. He mumbles as more of a suggestion than a remark, “Would be nice if you visited sometimes… No one else really comes up here often...”

The Spiral feels sheepish after hearing that. “O-oh, yeah, I should’ve done that too…”

“No one’s perfect, Thelmael. I know you seem to have a bit of a problem thinking like that. Besides, you’re busier than most of us; I’m surprised you even have enough time just to talk to me right now.”

“I’m not as busy as you think, but I do agree. I can try though.”

Belamia stops, puts a claw on Thelmael’s shoulder, and says, “Seriously. Don’t. You’ve got more things to worry about for Fajr than me. I’m saying this because you need to do your job, not because I want time to myself.”

Thelmael nods. “Right, right…”