Cradled on the brow of earth's precariously curious peaks stood a fair looking establishment. It glittered in the snow blind of cotton candy castles and breathed with a melancholy sigh all the grandeur of the heaven's endless span. The building under scrutiny was a small cottage which seemed to dance with the ever capricious winds, playing with the idea that death came on whispers. The picket fence bore a broken tooth smile and the splintered deku wood stood aghast as it parted with its spouse which normally greeted the newcomers. The whistling departure of this sad separation left travelers oblivious to the purpose of the wooden shack now, forever to be drowned in the mystique of the air around it. Speaking of which, the wheezes of this high top canvas was dipped in the salt of far away oceans but more noticeably...the indisputable sound of...children.

The innocence rapped on the hollows of the walls and through the mildew dress cascading over the charcoal door.The dirt weary window panes were painted with the soft fingertips of children. Smiles stared to the outside and the inside and names were scribbled in the gray of dusty grins. Yes, this building might has well have been a small lonely boy whose playful feet would dangle over the cliffs of a dreamer's inner eye and dip his toes in the pools below.

OOC: That was awesome! I'm not quite sure how to respond to this, but I'm guessing it has a purpose- with that said, its time to type up a post! (I found this on accident, if you were waiting for someone in particular, I'll edit or even delete)

IC: Darkin strolled through New Peaktop in a cloak of sorts, as he whistled a merry tune. He kept his hood up, for he was incredibly famous among the Rito scholars of New Peaktop. Darkin had sewn the cloak long ago to prevent his presence from being known to the citizens, and thus far it had served it's purpose.

As if it had sewn a cloak of it's own to prevent it's own existence from being discovered, a casual structure sat at the edge of a cliff. Darkin took a step forward, as he looked the building over. Such somber melodies it played within the hallowed mage's mind. As if it were always there, memories came rushing back to Darkin of when he first set foot in New Peaktop. Upon his trek to Northern Hyrule, this was one of the first places he flocked to.

Darkin walked closer, and stopped suddenly. It's cloak had been sewn for a reason, as had it's dusty boards. Whatever the purpose, Darkin would leave it undisturbed. Darkin smiled at the structure. All we want is to feel some sort of comfort inside ourselves. Darkin felt the comfort, and so he felt no need to explore further. The Rito turned, and left the structure, before shedding his cloak, and taking flight into the deep Hyrule sky.

The cloaked man, roughly five foot ten, was striding casually along the mountainside when he reached his destination - New Peaktop. Somewhere in the higher levels of the great establishment was the item he was searching for. With a foreboding hood raised over his face, the man seemed to give off an aura of all kinds of “I'm doing something suspicious” and “Get lost.” He wasn't particularly enthused about returning to this place. He loathed the wastebin of featherbags that congregated in their little haven far above everyone else. He despised the Rito for their solitude.

He was not normally intrigued so easily, but just looking at that house made him raise a hidden eyebrow with wonder. The place looked so dilapidated compared to the regal first level of New Peaktop. Sure, the upper levels were splendid beyond comparison, but this ruin disgraced the ethereal appearance of an otherwise heavenly landscaping job. The cloaked man wondered just what the back story to such a building could be. It called to him, and he could not help but step closer and examine it further.

His adventurous spirit overcoming him, the man pushed the door open and stepped one foot inside as he caught a glimpse of the Rito taking flight. “Hey!” he called roughly after the departing birdman. “Come back, Rito! I may need some assistance in here.” His voice caught on the wind and amplified on its drifting currents, his quaint, elegant voice transforming into a piercing, gruff shout as it traveled with the howling torrents. He hoped that the Rito would come back - there was no telling what awaited him inside the house. Without waiting to see if he was being followed, the cloaked man stepped into the eternal, dark abyss of the run-down home.