abraxaslogs | Welcome to Thorne!

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Welcome to Thorne!

WHO: OPEN to all Summoned in Thorne
WHAT: A party, info dump, and magic study session all rolled into one! Eat, drink, mingle -- make some friends! If your character is interested, they can go help out in Nott instead/afterward!
WHEN: After the new people arrive
WHERE: A ballroom in Castle Thorne

NOTES: This is an open mingle log where everyone can tag one another! New characters may hear some gossip and chatter about recent important events that happened in Abraxas. The most important one is that a few months ago, a coup happened in Castle Thorne that led to the former royal house being slaughtered. The new people in power are King Rudolph Sidwell, the former queen's uncle, his wife Queen Lia Sidwell, and High Mage Mace Hemmet. A war has broken out with the Free Cities and after a tussle in the Badlands to gain land, Thorne was forced back due to the combined forces of the Free Cities and apparently Solvunn's divine intervention.

Also, strange creepy dolls have been haunting the children and causing them to roam.

General.

While Istredd had former partners in this celebration, he is currently the only host, although he can only be found in one section of the room. The rest is working thanks to the kindness of staff who has been partnering with this a long time. He sent out a written invitation to all Thornean newcomers after their arrival, inviting them to meet their fellow Summoned. There will be fliers posted in the dining area that anyone can see. His invitation is much less elegant than Jill's used to be, but he tried to copy it to the best of his ability. You can assume your character was told and got in-person invites or heard about it. You can even assume your character helped with setup if desired (decorations, helping set out food, etc.), since they needed the assistance. Up to you!

Istredd will also be hosting a group meditation to allow newcomers to access to the Horizon (and network). New Summoned who wish to learn how to step into the Horizon have an opportunity to have their connections to the Singularity activated. If preferred, they can also get one-on-one help from those who've been around for a bit. He will also discuss the magic in Abraxas and point them in the direction of teachers of magic, combat, or other things they may be interested in.

Banquet.

The large ballroom is bathed in warm, golden light from dozens of chandeliers above, reflecting off the gleaming inlaid floors and brass light fixtures along the walls. It is at once neatly sectioned, yet naturally open, allowing the length of the room to flow from one potential activity to another with ease.

In the center, a circular area has been left clear, and every half hour or so during the first half of the evening, two native Thornean (apprentice) mages come up to offer magic demonstrations -- mostly flashy elemental magic, adding sparks and atmosphere. If any of the Summoned who've been around longer wish to show off as well, they are welcome to do so.

Along the walls stand narrow refreshment tables, where one can serve oneself wine and liquor from large glass carafes. Hot tea and a variety of warm drinks are also available in a few flavors. For those looking to eat, a large dining table has been set out toward the center of the room, with plates and utensils and large platters of food in the center. It has been arranged for special refreshments to be offered in partnership with local businesses.

Both the handful of large tables and the smattering of small, taller tables for standing at are in full view of the demonstrations so the show can be enjoyed with food and drink, whatever your desire. Everything is decorated in Thorne's local winter flowers, filling the space with pleasant smells and a pretty atmosphere. There is plenty of space to stand and mingle, walk around, and see what everyone else is up to. In the back of the room, the folding screens offer a quieter area, for more private conversation and meditation as desired.

Magic Studies.

Behind the folding screens made of tall, carved wood in intricate patterns, there are a handful of low sofas and chaise lounges around a fireplace at the far side of the hall. This sectioned-off area has been enchanted to provide some insulation from the sound of the banquet beyond, and once you step inside, the quiet is like a gentle blanket settling over everyone who chooses to spend some time here.

This is the best place to ask questions in some semblance of privacy, to learn about your new home, and to receive guidance on entering the Horizon and using the so-called network of telepathic notes only the Summoned can send one another.

Istredd is the one 'in charge' of this particular endeavor, but others who have been in Abraxas a while are likely also about, lending their assistance to those who are newly arrived and sharing thoughts on their experiences so far. Istredd recommends people visit his Horizon because he has a history of the Summoned and general helpful details written in there for anyone to see.

Just be careful -- even if the insulating enchantment is sturdy, there are still Thornean natives around, refilling refreshments outside and demonstrating their magic. You may want to be cautious how candidly you discuss any displeasure toward Thorne or its crown, considering the new royals may be more sensitive toward any perceived criticism of their actions and behavior. Especially with war now possibly being started with both major territories.

(( ooc: Feel free to make your own top levels and tag around! This is meant to be an open mingle, with the above as mostly setting and flavor, so don't feel limited if you want your character to do their own magic demonstrations, for example, or even if your thread ends up moving outside the ballroom. Have fun!

It should be noted that if you would like to handwave your character's first experience to the Horizon, you can do so. It's a blanket permission from me / Istredd that he took your character there, helped them leave, and showed them how to go back in with their memory now. Your character can also know anything from the entries I linked to above that are in his library if you'd like to jump-start them into having information, or they can know none of it.))

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He was afraid of his power for a long time. He didn't want to be responsible for the thing burning inside his veins, or for all the ways he could fuck up and hurt others. For a long time, he was paralyzed by memories of a skyline engulfed in flames, fields charred barren black, people mourning lost loved ones and razed houses — all, he thought, because of a mistake that took a blink of an eye to make.

Now, he can smile as Iris's fingers brush against his through the veil of shadow. This is a part of him. He seized his fear by the throat and from it forged a strength that he never thought could be his.

"Yeah. It's nice."

Being himself. A fuller, truer version of himself. With a quick gesture, he stretches the the bit of shadow and wraps it around Iris like a scarf. He's careful not to cover his face with it.

"Why was everyone telling you to stop?"

Is it strange to say the shadows feel warm? Thinking about it, they should feel cold, shouldn't they? Shade from the sun, the darker corners of a room. You think of shadows, you think of the cold, of the missing. But when the darkness coils around his neck, Iris is reminded of a blanket gently folded around one's shoulders — something soothing and reassuring.

It makes saying what he does next a little easier to bear.

"...Not everyone really saw them as a good thing. These powers."

His fingers itch to reach up and pull the shadows around him a little tighter, but he knows he'd only feel air if he tried.

"Anyone who had them were pretty much hunted down, so we basically had to go into hiding."

He hadn't had to think about the Tower in some time, and a part of him is surprised it's a lot easier to do so than he thought. Is it the distance? Or the time?

"I came from a place that was allowed to exist in the open, on the condition we all lived our lives as normal as possible. No powers, and we were left alone."

He trails off briefly, his lips turning a little rueful.

"I was really bad at listening."

His expression folds into sympathy. Horror wobbles in his eyes when Iris says hunted down. For all the time he spent fearing his own magic, it never occurred to Wilhelm that magic in and of itself could inspire widespread suspicion and persecution. Magic is the norm in Thorne. Every man, woman, and child knows at least a little spellwork, and studied mages are celebrated for their power.

But in a world where only some possess magic... Differences divide people. The unknown sparks fear. Witch hunts burned through Europe back in the old days, and magic isn't even real in his world.

"I'm sorry," is all he can think to say at first. It sounds stupid, inconsequential. At his sides, his fingers twist into useless knots. "It's...hard, having to hide who you really are. Pretending to be something you're not."

That, at least, he understands all too well.

"I mean, I didn't have any kind of powers before I came here. But I liked a boy, and I wasn't supposed to."

It's so easy to say now, this thing he kept crushed in his fist all those years ago. This thing he was afraid to let anyone see.

"I know it's not exactly the same, but..." He shakes his head with a matching rueful curl of his lips. "I guess I was bad at listening too."

Isn't it the same? When you break it down into its barest bones, isn't it all just hate and fear over something a person literally cannot help?

"Good."

If Wilhelm was looking for a far milder answer, he came to the wrong person. The Tower's #1 trouble-maker personally felt everyone shouldn't be so good at listening to rules, especially if—

"Some rules are stupid anyway."

Boys liking boys, powers accepted and understood. Is it really that much to ask? Maybe it's because he's still young, or maybe it's due to all those years feeling sheltered in the confines of the Tower. But Iris has always had a relatively simple view of the world around him, for all that his creative mind never quite seems to slow down. If it's not hurting anyone, why can't people just be allowed to be happy?

Truthfully, Iris thinks he really lucked out here, finding someone who can understand the weight stupid rules... and the reward of breaking past them.

Glancing around, Iris considers his options. There is a tension in Wilhelm's shoulders that he definitely had a hand in putting there. He regrets it, even if he feels a little lighter for all they'd admitted to in just a short amount of time. Fortunately, he's the proactive sort.

Unfortunately, he never was very good at making sensible choices.

"Wanna find some rules to break right now?"

Wilhelm breaks into a laugh, and the heaviness of what they've shared slides right off his shoulders. That's the thing about unloading what you carry around in your heart: in someone else's hands, it becomes a little lighter.

"Fuck the rules," he agrees, tipping his head back and shaking out his hair as if basking in the glow of some unseen sun. For all that some of the other Summoned grumble about the strictness of life in Castle Thorne, he thinks the rules on who he should be and what he should do with his life are a lot looser than what he knew before. And he never forgets that.

Fortunately for Iris, Wilhelm too has a long history of getting into trouble. His reputation as partyprinsen, although wildly exaggerated in the tabloids, wasn't completely unfounded. Since the day he got pulled out of the Summoning pool over two years ago, he has matured in leaps and bounds, but...nevertheless, he can't help the grin that spreads across his face at the other boy's invitation.

"Let's start with refreshments." He lifts his eyebrows. "If we're breaking rules, we'll need to keep our energy up."

Folding his hands behind his back in a casual manner, he starts strolling toward the table that holds all the wine.

Aha. Alright, Mr. Party Prince, he's picking up what you're putting down. The instant Iris realizes exactly what Wilhelm's goong for, his grin only widens, taking on a conspiratorial air. It's not as if they're really doing anything wrong here; Iris has helped himself to the local wine since his arrival, and nobody has even batted an eye to it. So either his status as a Summoned has let him bypass some age restriction laws, or they're far looser here than his world's Seattle... Still, he can't help the mischievous air about him when he snatches up a glass of something in the realm of aubergine and brings it up to his lips.

"So." His overactive mind is turning, even as he glances around to make sure no one is listening in (as if they're planning the world's greatest heist or something) before he leans closer, speaking over the rim of his glass. "What's the biggest thing your shadows can hide?"

While Iris snatches up a glass, Wilhelm slips his hand around the long neck of a bottle and pulls it down to his side. His shadow ripples from Iris's neck to wrap around the bottle, camouflaging it at a glance against the dark material of his pants.

"Think bigger, Iris," he teases, leaning in close as he slides past him on the way to his next destination, which is the ballroom door. It's true, they aren't breaking any rules yet. Even when he was sixteen and still baby-faced, nobody here had gotten between him and drinking. But the wine is supposed to be for the party, and if they liberate it from the party then there's at least some bending going on.

Plus, it might inspire some brighter ideas.

"I hid a whole wagon once. While it was moving, too. Why, what are you thinking?"

Edited 2024-11-02 23:46 (UTC)

He stifles a half-laugh, half-snort in his drink, ducking his head just as Wilhelm leaves his side to begin making his exit. An open glass isn't very great for traveling with, so he sets that back down on a passing waiter's tray before slipping past the rest to follow suit.

Wilhelm's strides are longer, but Iris is motivated, and it's not long at all until they're shoulder-to-arm, walking in tandem as the wide double doors of the ballroom draw near.

"I'm thinking......" He trails off until they're past the threshold, until the sounds of the banquet become a faded, muffled noise in the background behind solid wooden doors. "I'm thinking there's gotta be more where that came from, right?"

Listen. He's not a lush. Half the time, he doesn't even enjoy the taste of most of the alcohol available to them here. But it's not really about the wine so much as it is needing a reason to keep the momentum going. And as far as Iris knows, where wine is usually kept, there's bound to be other goodies prime for the taking.

Suffice to say, he knows a thing or two about sneaking around incredibly strict fortresses.

At their sides, Iris' hand curls around Wilhelm's to help him hold that bottle. Of course, he's got no way to control the shadows himself, but that doesn't stop him from tugging on a finger in an attempt to pull the concealment around him too.

"Hiding two boys heading towards the kitchens should be easy-peasy for you, right?"

Past the threshold and a few paces out of the way of the double doors, he pauses. Iris's suggestion of the kitchens gives him a direction to go. He nods, and they continue down the hall.

"Hiding you will be no problem," he agrees, playfully resting his free hand on top of his roommate's head. With a flex of his fingers, the shadow expands to swallow up Iris's knuckles where they wrap around his at the bottle's neck.

Wilhelm knows the way to the castle's kitchens. Past the dining hall, through a door, down a narrow hallway. The trick will be avoiding any kitchen staff bustling back and forth from the party. Once they've tucked themselves into a dim alcove, he pulls the darkness at their hands into a shroud that surrounds them. Iris will find his sense of sight doused. Wilhelm's hand is the only point anchoring him.

"Hold onto me," he whispers, as he tugs him through the door.

No part of this plan is particularly smart. It would be easier for Wilhelm to conceal only himself, and only he can see through the veil of darkness he creates anyway. But all of the fun of mischief is in sharing it. To leave Iris waiting in the main corridor would defeat the purpose of their endeavor.

It takes Iris two seconds too long to figure out what Wilhelm meant by those words, though it should have been pretty obvious when accompanied by that impish grin. Fact is, by the time he realizes he should feel some level of indignation, they're already well on their way down the halls, thereby making impotent any ire he could have summoned up in his defense. But if he stands a little straighter, tips his chin up a little higher, that's its own form of defiance, right? Maybe not... Not like it really makes much of a difference, if we're being honest here.

Fortunately for his pride, he's easily distracted. Once the shadows fold over him like a veil, his hackles raise, and for a brief moment he feels a panic he's not known since he was four years old, discovering the vastness and mystery of the dark and all that could be scary from that.

His hand grips Wilhelm's a little tighter, once he realizes he can still feel. He walks a lot closer, practically overlapping the taller boy's steps when he can. He focuses on the touch, on the faint but distinct smell of soap and Wilhelm, and lets that ground him where the darkness would otherwise have him floating off.

"Oh," is all he ends up saying, breathing, eloquent thing that he is.

He realizes a moment late that he should have warned Iris. He forgets — his darkness is friendly to him, because he's in full control. It's not the darkness that devoured him down in the belly of that mountain, surrounded by death. The darkness that still haunts him to the point that he can't fall asleep without a bit of light to keep him company and ward off unseen terrors. Sometimes he thinks the Singularity has a weird sense of humor, granting him the gift of shadows as he recovered from that ordeal.

He forgets that to anyone else, all darkness must be the same. And the shadows he creates are uniquely impenetrable, as if darkness is a substance that can thicken. Wilhelm wants to say something more to reassure Iris, but their voices can't be hidden. Talking will get them caught.

So he silently leads the way down the hall to the kitchen. Just as they reach the door, it swings open. Wilhelm flattens himself against the wall and pulls Iris with him as a kitchen worker walks past with a basket of bread.

It's dizzying enough to be escorted around in the literal dark; with the tug comes an unfortunate sensation of vertigo as he loses his balance, only to find it rather suddenly against a warm, firm body.

"Oof," he says, intelligently, somehow having enough presence of mind to, yanno, keep it quiet. More a tiny puff of air shared between them, or between Iris and Wilhelm's chest — look, the point is the worker doesn't hear them over the sound of their own haste anyway.

The bread smells really good, and so does Wilhelm, like he might have dusted an extra bit of cologne just under his ears for the special occasion, like without his sight the rest of his senses are heightened so he's left with just sounds and smells and feels—

What was it they were doing here?

Wilhelm realizes, once the worker's footsteps have receded down the hall, how tightly he's clutching Iris's waist, pressing him against himself as if by melding together they might have a better chance of staying hidden. He lets go of him like a held breath. They remain connected by the wine bottle they're both still holding.

"Sorry," he whispers.

They don't have time to waste lingering here. He pulls open the door and conducts Iris through it, then quietly guides it shut. Once they're through, he ducks into a patch of shadow beside a large shelf. From there, Wilhelm can scope out the situation.

This late in the evening, the work of cooking is done. He hears the splash of water as someone, he presumes, scrubs pots and pans clean. There's the brisk clatter of putting things away, the idle chatter of winding down for the day. Luckily the kitchen is vast enough that none of these things are happening near the corner they've tucked themselves into.

On a nearby shelf, he spots rows of wine bottles in a rainbow of colored glass. Surely one won't be missed. A nearby table holds baskets of cheeses, breads, and sugared fruits. There's a whole chocolate cake — tragically, he thinks, it won't fit in his pockets.

"Hold this, and wait here."

Pressing the bottle into Iris's hands, he leaves the shelter of the shelf's shadow to sneak over to the table. He takes his veil of shadows with him, not knowing how to divide it into two.

Edited 2024-11-17 18:50 (UTC)

Wait, Iris' mind supplies, perhaps dumbly, what?

None of that actually leaves his mouth though, which is certainly a good thing considering he's a sitting duck as he is, and drawing any attention to himself now would just be foolish. Sure, yes, he's still technically in some shadow, but it's nowhere near as comforting as Wilhelm's shadow had been. What else is he to do, but press his back to the wall and hold onto that wine bottle for dear life?

(If they do get caught, it probably wouldn't be so bad. No one could be worse than the Madam, or so Iris' fears tell him.)

By the time Wilhelm returns to Iris' side, he is on full on Pout Mode.

"Not cool," he hisses, reaching out to grab at Wilhelm's shirt to draw the other boy closer into his space. He still isn't entirely sure how these shadow powers work, but as far as he can tell, close is safe. Close is also... quite close, though. Iris' hand flexes over fabric, and his mind chooses this time to remind him how Wilhelm's hand had felt gripping his waist, or what the sound of his heartbeat felt like against the faint press of his ear.

So maybe neither of them are very good at this forethought thing.

See, in his mind he was doing Iris a favor by not leaving him alone and blind in the inky black of his shadows. But judging by the pout on his face, Iris disagrees. Wilhelm offers an apologetic grimace as he retreats to the corner. Of course, Iris won't see it. His foraging has yielded another bottle of wine and a basket of dainty buttery cookies, which he nearly fumbles as Iris reels him in.

Then, for the second time in a short space, they're very close. Iris's fingers curl in the front of his shirt, and instinctively he leans into him as if to form a wall. There's a breath in which he wishes they could stay wrapped in darkness just like this; in the next, he remembers where they are.

"Let's go."

His words hum right above Iris's ear, only big enough for the space pulled taut between them. With that, he offers him the crook of his arm...as best as he can, given that his hands are full, and Iris can't see a thing. Once Iris has a hold on him, he'll lead them back through the door.

Wilhelm will find that Iris' ire is just as quick to dispel as it is to bubble forth. Easily mollified by — what, exactly? That Wilhlem doesn't pull away? Or the simple fact that he'd returned at all? It's hard to say, and possibly too depressing to really hink on for too long, and so it's all for the best that Iris doesn't hesitate to slip his hand into the crook of that elbow and continue following along obediently as he'd done this whole time.

Back into the blanket of Wilhelm's shadows, he probably shouldn't find it so comforting. But there's an easiness in the way he can just sort of let go and let Wilhelm do all the leading, in giving himself up to the trust that someone else will keep him safe. When compared to how he'd felt there, alone against that wall, exposed and uncertain, he finds he would much rather sink here into the darkness if it meant he could be assured he'd never have to be alone again.

As he conducts Iris down the hall, sticking to the shadowed edges, there's a moment where the thrill of it rises from something other than sneaking around and swiping what isn't theirs to take. It has something to do with the absolute trust Iris yields to him by stepping into his shadows, trading his sight for Wilhelm's guidance.

He lets that strange thought slide away, his focus narrowing on the task of getting away. Soon, they're back in the spacious main corridor where they began. Wilhelm holds his shadows around them for a few more loping paces before letting the darkness recede. Then, a few minutes and a dozen totally casual, not at all furtive glances later, they're pouring through the door to their room. Wilhelm lets go of the laugh he's been holding in since the hallway.

"Shit," he sighs gleefully. As if they've just pulled off the heist of the century, rather than finger a few treats.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Welcome to Thorne!

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