Scene I: Conclave Fidelis

[Stix]

The unison chant of the monastery is present throughout the night, but never once does the sound wake or disturb anyone. Sleep is restful, and no dream is a nightmare.

By morning, the hospice wing is full of planewalkers and pilgrims, all wakened by a monk at the door ringing the breakfast bell. The monastery lifts its voice with the songs of countless birds, the whistling and jangling of chimes, and, in the halls, the gentle hum of the aeolian harps' pleasant chords. A breeze brings freshness and comfort through the unshuttered windows. Grogginess passes quickly on the short walk to the dining hall.

Though it lacks in variety, the food is plentiful enough to accommodate a small army. A table sits in the corner near the entryway, lined with baked fish and fresh fruit. Of the conclave's brothers and sisters, most are interspersed at the three dining tables, and a few stand by the large cooking pots to ladle oatmeal into wooden bowls.

[john]

John eats hungrily, and somewhat messily, but notably wears armor and a helm to the table unless told not to, concealing as much of the horrific damage to his face that was inflicted by the accident with the Deva's soul as possible.

His brown eyes cast about for a place to render payment, as is his code.

[TheGratefulNed]

The all-pervading pleasant and relaxing nature of the Restful Plane, in and of itself, makes the Cadence no harder or easier to feel. But the internal calm needed to find the Cadence of the Planes is much easier to attain there.

Gl'Fnak sleeps lightly and awakens early, feeling fully rested and full of energy. He is meditating, seated in a lotus position, when the bell is clanged for the summons to eat and the whole monastery comes to life with tonal and melodic sounds. Opening his eyes he momentarily surveys those just waking and those few others that also rose before the tolling, a peaceful and content smile creases his scaly, ashen cheeks.

Following only a pace or two behind the vulture-helmed human, the Cipher takes a piece of fish and a few pieces of fruit. Seating himself randomly at one of the tables, the tiefling eats all but a few strawberries before returning for a bowl of oatmeal, into which he cuts up the saved berries. He offers an appreciative smile and an acknowledging nod to the monks who serve the food and passively observes the planewalkers and other guests.

[Stix]

(I've been waiting on entrances, but I guess we'll carry on with two. John will have seen a coin-operated holy water dispenser near the main entry; it seems to be the only place where the monastery openly accepts money.)

While the monks remain quiet for breakfast, the pilgrims more than make up for their silence, sharing in their meal with enthusiasm and welcoming even the tieflings at the table.

One of the monks approaches John, leaning down next to the soldier to murmur in his ear. "Enjoy the meal at your leisure, you are our guest. When you have finished, Father Cedric wishes to meet with you in the Hilltop Courtyard."

Proceeding around the table, the monk passes the message along to a few others as well (all the other PCs; funny, that).

[john]

John nods, slowing down slightly, and will walk over to the coin-operated holy water dispenser, seeing the rather impressive, at least for a hiver like him fare, he winces, but palms a platinum piece, and puts it into the dispenser, getting a single vial of holy water as recompense, hoping that will be enough to cover what he feels to be his debt.

[artemis]

Xianna nibles at some fish and fruit. She was a bit uncomfortable due to the fact that she was not used to any degree of hospitality. She eyed her companions and stayed quiet.
"Well, I'm done." she states as she gets up. She does hesitate and wait for her companions, hoping they will get the hint and join her.

[exile]

The night had not been kind to Hadrian, his sleep fitful even on the plane of eternal rest. He had at last given up his struggle with insomnolence two hours before the first light. Pacing through the darkened halls he had found a cloistered garden from which to watch the rising of the sun. Even the appearance of that brilliant celestial light brought no cheer into his heart however. Something held him in its grip - a melancholic loss that he couldn't name. As the spirits of Conclave Fidelis woke to greet the day, the aasimar was slow in joining them. The heartening, if inexorbitant meal laid before him he hardly touches, instead staring off wistfully into the middle distance as though transfixed by some unseen pageant. As a servant approaches to remove his place setting, Hadrian's eyes at last find purchase and he smiles ever so slightly.

"Thank-you."