"It is not a mortal settlement," whispered Corum Jhaelen Irsei as he emerged with Jhary-a-Conel from the tall grass and drew his scarlet robe about him, feeling insignificant beneath the splendor of the city.

His blue robe whispered on the floor as he turned and went out of the room.

Her black robes whispering over the long grass, Mllaba glided away.

His blue and white robes whispered with his agitated strides.

Her sheer white robe whispered around her ankles, a vivid contrast to the silky black hair cascading down her back.

When he stood up, his black robes whispering about him as he folded his hands within his sleeves, his face was deathly pale but calm.

His Aesthetics' robes whispered about his ankles, their rustle keeping time to the tune Bertrem hummed as he went along.

His simple gray robes whispered in the quiet as he moved in front of Ash.