The dirigible isn't the kind of craft you simply leave moored to a pillar of your townhouse. It is a unique artifact and one that draws attention, thieves and, well undo interest.
It was built for the clarity of the sky. Named The Old Girl by Grandmother Vander, the craft was a relic of High Elven science, a whisper of the perfection the Halikarnians chased. Her hull wasn't canvas but a shimmering, silken aerofoil, the material pale and faintly iridescent, now dulled and stained by travels far away from CaerCylwen. The Old Girl sailed on an innate lightness, its skeleton a delicate lattice of pale resin and silver-spun filaments—ancient conductors that subtly harnessed the air's energy to augment its lift.
The gondola beneath was sparsely appointed, built for observation, not comfort. Inside, the few surfaces—a worn velvet seat, the smooth mahogany of the control deck—spoke of an elegant era now lost. The control system itself, which Calliope wrestled with, was a series of interlocking ivory levers that positively sang a resonant note when properly tuned. Every component whispered of flawless geometry and an order that the chaotic world below had long forgotten. She was a beautiful, defiant shadow of perfection, currently grounded on a precarious ledge (in Grellan's Grove), smelling faintly of ozone and awaiting it's owner's return.