Leaping from the balcony, Greggory felt his stomach lurch at the drop. His tasseled mistcloak fluttered around him, long and thin bands of cloth dancing and fluttering around his head as he fell. The cat extended his body, arms high, forming almost an arrow with his body, dropping down through the dense, coiling mists at high speed.
As the Allomantic metals burned in his stomach, he finally focused his attentions on the blue, ethereal lines that seemed to spread out in all directions from his chest.
This `sense' was born from his burning of iron and steel, and each line, thick, thin, or faded to near-invisible, connected to some source of metal nearby. Latches on windows, bars in fences, nails in the walls, sconces holding up lit torches to illuminate the night. While the ones in the building behind him zipped past swiftly, most were relatively stationary, except a few clusters that, surely, would be the Keep's guards, armed and protected with metal.
As he dropped, he focused on a few of the lines beneath him, metal sources that were large and sturdy. The grounds' fences, woven metal blocking and directing spaces in the gardens beneath his room.
Greggory burned the steel in his gut, and PUSHED.
Immediately, his fall lurched. He hadn't been right over the fencing, but to the side; as he used Allomancy to Push on the metal, it inversely pushed back on him, an unseen and magic force trying to repel him from it. The limber feline slowed, swinging in an arch on an invisible pole.
More fences, more Push points. He chose two near where he was angled to fall, and pushed on them as well, stabilizing the descent. This time, he let himself drop fully, mistcloak dancing around him and actual mists curling against his slender frame, almost possessive of him as he used his Allomantic powers.
``Mmf,'' Greggory grunted, landing in a crouch, the tassels of cloth engulfing him on impact.
The Steelpush had slowed him such that it didn't hurt. His legs still ached a bit from the fall, of course, but he certainly hadn't shattered like he should have dropping from several stories onto a stone pathway below. It felt more like he'd simply jumped down from a LITTLE too high, but hadn't landed funny, dispersing his inertia effectively.
Letting out a slow breath, the cat remained in a crouch, all four paws pressed to the stone below. Inhale, exhale...
He had landed in the small garden that the House kept. It wasn't anything impressive, really; a few angular pathways of cobblestone, smooth and well-kept, lacing between a few slender, brown-leafed trees and shrubberies. The metal bar fences were decoration, really, `closing off' sections so that when one was walking along the paths, there was usually only a few little plots of plantlife that were intended to be viewed. Ornamented at the tips, woven together at steep angles, some vines curling up the lengths here and there. Every now and then, there'd be a bench, wood slats mounted on curving, ornate metal supports, and bolted into the ground firmly.
In the cold mists, the whole space felt empty, and quiet. Not like during the day, when people were always shuffling through, either taking in the garden's beauty, or going for a light stroll on the grounds, or tending to the plants, or even just going from one area of the Keep to another from outside.
He, uh... liked watching the people in the gardens, really. Sometimes he'd sit up on his little balcony, nestled up against the painted wood slats of the guard rail, and gaze down, watching people come and go. It was kind of nice, getting to see how most others got to live their lives, though at times he had to simply imagine what might be going on beyond that garden.
One of his step-siblings, moving about on business. His mother, sitting on a bench, sipping tea while a few of her servants attended her. Two of the skaa workmen on the grounds, sneaking off to a `private' corner and sharing a passionate kiss...
His eyes hesitated on that corner, right under a thin-branched tree, but with a gray, long-leafed plant engulfing the lower parts of it to create a semi-private space.
Eyes clamping shut for a second, he stopped himself. He had business to attend to.
The skin of his bare head prickled a bit at the cold, the wetness of the mists tickling his pointed ears slightly. Casually, he slipped a hand up, between some of the tassels of his cloak, and gripped the edge of his hood, tugging it up. With a slight wiggle, he slotted his ears through the slits on either side, letting the soft gray hood drape over his smooth scalp.
Hooded, the Mistborn stood, bare feet on rough stone and cloak swaying around him in the very slight breeze of the misty night.
Greggory had always been a bit short, and definitely slender, but with the tasseled mistcloak and the curling white fog around him, he liked to think that even he cut an impressive, and imposing, figure. If nothing else, the scope of his Allomancy, signaled by the cloak he wore, likely made up for his less-than-impressive stature.
He hoped.
The cat gave one last slow breath, then glanced at the metal fences he'd used to slow his fall. Greggory winced, noting how the one he'd pushed on first, closer to the Keep's walls, was bent near the middle, where his weight had shoved down on it.
He... was pretty sure one of the guards would see and report it to be repaired. After all, it probably just needed to be bent back into shape.
Still, Greggory felt a bit bad. Instead of the fences, he went towards one of the benches, thankfully nearby. He hopped up, two quick steps, and mid-motion as he lifted himself deftly onto the back boards, he Flared his steel and Pushed off the two metal sidings on either end of the bench.
As the construction was bolted to the ground, both sturdily made AND likely heavier then the slender feline, Greggory felt his stomach lurch again, just a little, as he was launched up into the air. He didn't need to keep pushing with his Allomancy, bouncing up and forward at high speed, cresting the outer wall of the Keep with ease. His arms spread wide, but his legs tucked tightly together, he propelled himself through the misty night air, lit only by the limelights burning outside, and the few torches along the outer walls for the guards.
He... well, it wasn't FLIGHT. He was hurled through the air by his Steelpush, the pull of gravity drawing him back down in a high arch, achieving a far bit more distance than height. The benefit of not weighing much as a Mistborn.
Greggory's heart raced with excitement as he Pushed again, this time off some large source of metal sitting stable behind the wall. Some bench outside, maybe; he'd never really checked.
This sent him surging up higher again, though not as high as the first bench had launched him. This time, he let himself crest through the air a bit, passing beyond the open space maintained around the Keep and entering the numerous shops and other buildings beyond. He was angled so that he was going right down a large road, wide enough for a good three or so carriages to pass side-by-side without issue.
Instead of going down the street, however, he instead felt for a source of metal on the roof of a building to his left. Sure enough, a blue line grew denser and more luminous as he neared it, and having made the same `escape' from the Keep numerous times, he knew it was sturdy enough.
Iron, the opposite to steel, let him reach out with Allomancy and pull. Again, he lurched in the air slightly, yanking himself towards the metal.
This, of course, changed the angle of his `flight', and instead of landing in the road, he just barely crested the raised edge of the building's roof, legs tucking up to his chest. Greggory landed with a roll, thumping deftly and curling with mistcloak tassels swirling madly about him. He stopped himself with a grunt, landing on all fours again, tail raised high and body tucked low, looking around the roof.
The source of metal had been, among other things, a brass doorknob, the building having a door on the roof in a raised section. A few more lines that seemed to lead inside indicated... well, he wasn't sure, probably the hinges of the door?
Glancing to the other side, he twitched.
Two children, little cubs in nice enough clothing. He was pretty sure the building he'd landed on was a shop, belonging to some lower-class Noble. The two boys were probably apprentices, or family members.
``Whoa...'' one of them, a raccoon, gasped, staring at the Mistborn who'd landed behind them as they played some token-based game. No metal lines led to the pieces; they must have been wood, or ivory.
``... Uh,'' the little dog across from the raccoon said, then gave a respectful little head nod. ``L- Lord Mistborn, um, my lord...''
``Ah, m- my lord.'' The two cubs gave awkward bows, sitting cross-legged on the roof, tucked out of sight from the sides of the building.
Greggory stood, letting his mistcloak engulf him once again. He knew his features would be obscured by the mist and the dark; though he could see them well enough, they probably lacked his `advantage' in that department. So, to them, he'd just look like some pointy-eared man with a long tail, mistcloak tassels swaying around him after landing on their roof.
``Boys,'' he answered with a slight teasing tone, returning the respectful nod. ``Good game?''
``Um. R- Ruler's Check, my lord. I'm winning,'' the raccoon said, squirming uncomfortably. The cat was pretty sure he knew the rules of that one, though hadn't played since he himself was a cub.
``Carry on then,'' Greggory said lightly, striding forward, along the direction the road went.
He could feel a few more viable sources of metal nearby, and upon leaping up onto the wall on the edge of the roof, he leapt and Steelpushed, Pulling at the same time to hurtle himself two roofs over with ease. Wind and mistcloak danced around him, his body shifting to angle himself through the air, landing on the far roof and then, using some convenient metal in the building below, throwing himself up even higher, travelling in another high, speedy arch.
Greggory could always enjoy this. This `secret' world on the rooftops, moving by Push and Pull, engulfed in almost loving mists that twisted around his body protectively as he launched himself through them at high speeds.
The buildings near his family's Keep were middle-sized; usually about two or three stories at most. He could mostly travel in those low, long-distance arcs, shooting himself forward and using Pulls and Pushes to angle himself along towards his destination. But further along, he could see the buildings growing taller; unlike an orderly radial city like Luthadel in the Central Dominance, Greggory's home city was a bit more... haphazard. Still sizeable, still `modern', but a bit messier. Divided into eight districts, each named for one of the eight main Allomantic metals, but stacked and clustered around the large lake and river that fed it. He liked to think of it as looking a bit like a fat cat, sleeping with its tail extended out behind it, its head tucked low, and one leg sticking out at an odd angle. In this way, two districts, Brass and Zinc, led up the side of the river and bottom edge of the lake, feeding into the bulk of five districts that made up the bulk of the city.
It was the Brass District that his family's Keep was in, close to the shipyards that were a big bulk of their trade. He moved north, travelling along rooftops that slowly grew as he moved to enter the Steel District.
There, the buildings started getting taller. They also started hanging long, swaying banners from the upper floors of the tall buildings, draping down two or three sides to show off one thing or another. House affiliations, political declarations, businesses, a few that seemed purely artistic...
He angled a Pull, yanking himself at one of these tall, bannered buildings. His feet caught the ledge of a window, the brickwork tiered so that the first few floors were wider then the next, and then the next. And, for a bit of added balance, he caught the edge of the banner on that building, the big woven cloth advertising the colors of one of the bigger mercantile Houses that made their home in the city.
Greggory exhaled, limbs trembling excitedly. He could feel his lips curled up into a slight smile, mists coiling around him as, while he stopped Pushing and Pulling, the rest of his Allomantic burning kept the mist affectionate of him. His heart raced excitedly.
He leaned back, using the banner as a handhold to lean further than he probably should, angled out from the building to peer up at the edge of the roof. In his firm grasp, the banner creaked noisily, groaning with his weight. The slender feline Mistborn looked down, but couldn't sense any sizeable sources of metal on the road below or nearby to get himself over it.
Well... that's why he brought coins.
Casually, he slipped his free paw to one of the coin bags at his waist, dipping a few fingers into it and extracting two or three of the small clips. Then, just as lightly, he twisted and dropped them to the cobbled road below, watching them glint slightly before clattering near-silently below. He continued to watch for a second, observing how they bounced, catching sparse light and tinkling to a stop after a second, spread out on the road.
Greggory then released his handhold on the banner, dropping down backwards alongside it, head first.
He rolled, feeling the ghostly blue lines of the three coins below. He Pushed, slowing himself as he tilted head over heels to fall feet-first instead. As the cat neared the ground, however, the strong, sturdy Push against coins held in place by the ground instead gained the proximity and stability to launch him upwards.
Flaring his steel, he propelled himself upwards sharply, eyes squinting against the sharp wind, mistcloak fluttering noisily around him as he ascended. He burned iron as well, using some metal sources high on the building to pull himself up the whole way.
He reached the crest of his arch right at the top edge of the roof; unlike the walled terrace of the previous buildings, this one was flat, paneled so that ash would be easy to remove. A hatch set nearby was one of the metal sources that Greggory had used to ascend, assumedly for workers to get up on the roof and clear it all off. He bounded forward, taking a few quick, light steps across the building's width to the other ledge.
Dropping a coin on the roof for some extra leverage, he Pushed, launching himself in another far arch. The next door building was a bit shorter, so he went right over it, and landed a rooftop over, landing at a run and launching himself again.
He moved deftly, Pushing and Pulling, using the surrounding metals of the city where he could, but dropping coins here and there.
As he navigated the rooftops, Greggory was tempted to try and conserve the coins; he only had three small bags, after all. But, in his early years of instruction as a Mistborn, he'd had the actual habit of doing so trained out of him, more or less. Besides, maybe less fortunate skaa around the city would stumble upon the coins, and have some use for them? At least, that was what he told himself to mitigate the impulse for retrieval.
Even travelling by steel and iron, travelling north through the city districts took a lot of time. Up into the main bulk of the city, then moving east, towards the mountains and Keep Lobos.
In the Bronze District, Greggory launched himself high off of the near-empty coin pouch he'd been using to travel, using the mass of coins inside as a strong anchor to hurl himself up the side of a tall tower. Six, seven stories zipped past him, before he crested it, slowing to a near stop a few feet above the steepled roof. Then, with a deft Ironpull on some things inside the tower's upper floors, he tugged himself towards the roof as he fell.
``Mmf!'' he grunted with effort, grabbing onto the steepled roof, skidding a few inches as his bare toes and fingers clung to it. After a second, he stabilized, wobbling slightly, the tassels of his cloak swaying steadily around him as he clung to the building.
Greggory exhaled slowly, ears tipping down, as he peered forward.
Keep Lobos sat clustered up against numerous other buildings, tall and sturdy. Limelights illuminated the outside from the ground, casting strong, steady light up against the pearly stonework and deep blue roofing, the ornate glass depicting various religious scenery glinting brightly despite the night mist swirling with the wind around it.
The cat shifted, letting one paw fall to his side, resting on his belt of metal vials, glass blades, and coins. And... the vial containing a single bead of Atium.
``... Time to get to work...'' Greggory told himself softly, mists twisting around him eagerly.
