This side of midnight, perched several stories overhead, he is draped over the hard division of a balcony; close enough to make out its flaking stone cracked through with creeping ivy. It's all ivory pillars, intricate ironwork, and darkened windows.

A moment is spent surveying the expanse, to find a viable route to reaching the study and the crown gem of this place. He swings his head wide towards the roof and the skylight therein. With half the normal quotient of sight, he doesn't want to damn it further in this murk on a subtle moon like tonight. His Ivysaur, as if on cue, makes itself known with a fretting of its foliage emerging from a verdant overhang of fronds.

Toxins weep clear along its vines as a patchwork of fractures follow the poison's course beneath the glass surface, eye settling on what is now a gaping hole in the skylight's constitution. Nothing to do now but descend.

tag; open

mission