Swan Down Arms

Malik and Alexandria are bedecked in matching Oni silk robes and bear fur cloaks as they nibble on toast, with Malik lazily draped over Lexa’s athletic lap. She is a head and hand taller than him, even on the days he wears boots. The husband and wife duo are talking in a dear lover’s fashion as Matilda serves them ginger tea. 

Lussi’s black coffee from the Ifrit lands of bloodsoil and volcanic heat bubbles over a flame, and my maté from across the Iron Ocean from the continent of the southern Unktehi is tangy, spiced with cinnamon. The table sits under a veranda on the high walls of Lussi’s Ice Palace, overlooking the Bay of Seething. The pavilion is heated by geothermal pools that bubble up in waterfalls in quartz bowls in order to heat us. Salty drafts from the ocean breeze in. The glaciers unfurl like hills of milk, and the Northern Lights of Skahdi’s Bow still dance like thieves in the early morn across a pink sun.

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