abraxaslogs | Study Room Gathering

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Study Room Gathering

WHO: Any of the Summoned in Thorne who would like to attend!
WHAT: An invitation for the Summoned of Thorne to gather together! Newcomers can ask questions, oldtimers can offer information, everyone can get to know one another. Those not already able to access the Horizon have an opportunity to have their connections to the Singularity activated through group meditation.
WHEN: Following the most recent batch of Summonings
WHERE: Kylo's Study in Castle Thorne
NOTES: This is intended as a kinda discussion mingle log, where everyone can go ahead and tag into each other's threads! Kylo will be wandering around before things get going, then opening up discussion. Characters can ask him questions in response, or pose their own questions/offer up information in their own toplevels. If you'd like to talk specifics or have questions for me, feel free to catch me on

starktech or hit me up on discord - cryloren#2195.

Perhaps you were told by one of the friendlier Thornean mage apprentices, one of the castle servants, one of your fellow Summoned... or you received a personal invite from Kylo himself. In any case, the rumour around the Castle following the latest wave of Summonings is that Kylo Ren (the Venerable Kylo Ren, something of the Abraxan equivalent of a mysteriously broody Byronic hero, if the locals are to be believed) is hosting another gathering of sorts in the study room— a decent sized chamber in Castle Thorne set aside for Kylo and his task force that he uses for the study of magic and exploration of the Horizon. As before, only the Summoned are invited. This will be an evening free from oversight, where Kylo and his peers can discuss their situation, exchange information and ideas, and the more settled among them can help newcomers reach the Horizon and access the Network for the first time.

The heavy wooden door is left open after evening meal, and the spacious room inside is set up to receive guests for an informal roundtable (with the notable absence of said round table). Grab some light refreshments, inspect Kylo's collection of curios, or simply march up to a stranger and introduce yourself— once those in attendance have had a chance to get comfortable and it seems like everyone who's interested in joining the group for the evening has arrived, Kylo will close the door to allow for a more private and involved discussion.

Welcome to team Thorne.

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Wilhelm remembers that dour face from his first hour in this world. Amid the bewildering spate of information that deluged him then — so much that he felt as if his brain were a rock trying to absorb the contents of a lake — one piece wedged in there is this guy's offer to get him anything he needs. There are obvious limits, he thinks, to anything. He wants to go home. He wants to see Simon. He wants to talk to Erik, because even in circumstances as outlandish as these he can't help but believe his brother would know what to do. But that one's doubly impossible.

Still, there must be something he wants, even if he isn't sure of what. His curiosity carries him over to where Ronan lounges. With no room to sit down, Wilhelm hovers awkwardly before the couch, arms folding over his chest.

Bracing himself with a breath, he begins, "Hey. I don't know if you remember me. I just showed up a few days ago. Wilhelm."

He honestly can't remember if he supplied his name before. Mostly, he'd been trying to keep breathing, to rub the tightness out of his chest.

Ronan's gaze slides over to Wilhelm. Of course he remembers him. He never forgets a face, but he's especially unlikely to forget this one, crafted so precisely to his taste that he hasn't stopped wondering whether he accidentally dreamt Wilhelm into being. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Ronan," says Ronan, in case Wilhelm missed it earlier.

He hands off his weird metal toy to his unseen servant, which looks rather like he just left the thing hovering in midair. Then he waves it away like he's shooing a fly, and the toy goes bobbing through the air back to the shelf he took it from.

Wilhelm looks like he needs a seat. Ronan takes pity on him and sits up, making space for him. At no point does he stop staring or consider that he ought to.

He feels the weight of Ronan's gaze as if it were a tangible thing gliding over his face and form. While he isn't sure how exactly to interpret that look, he isn't completely oblivious either. Some crashing combination of surprise, confusion, and embarrassment sends his eyes skittering aside as he takes his cue to seat himself beside Ronan.

"Thanks," he says once he's settled in. His posture is upright, shoulders squared over a neatly stacked spine as if the back of the couch is there for decoration more than function. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, only for it to immediately flop forward to form a little curtain around his eye again.

"Can everyone around here do stuff like that?" With a nod toward the metal object that Ronan had just sent floating onto the shelf. It isn't the question he meant to begin with, but it feels pertinent after witnessing Kylo Ren perform a similar trick with the door earlier.

Because that is the least of what Ronan can do, he lets out a short laugh. "That? That's nothing. Most of the mages learn that one to get out of chores when they're ten."

From that question alone, Ronan guesses this guy is from a world without magic — or at least a world that's successfully hidden magic from him. How fun.

"You can learn it, too. Once you start feeling the Singularity's power, you'll be able to use it like everyone else."

He tries to laugh along with Ronan, because that seems like the thing to do. It provides a decent cover for his sheepishness as he realizes for the hundredth time in the last few days how far out of his depth he is. Stuff like that might as well be...snapping one's fingers, or whistling. Something that shouldn't impress anyone beyond a certain age. His fingers knot together where they rest between his knees as he listens.

"Oh. Really?" His surprise leaks through. "I thought it was something you either have or you don't."

Ronan laughs again. It's not a kind sound, though he doesn't mean to be unkind. It's just a little funny to watch someone trying so desperately to fit into an absurdly-shaped box. Wilhelm looks like he forgot to do his homework and he's hoping the teacher doesn't notice, but the class is a magical alternate reality and no one here actually expects him to have done the assignment.

"You're here," Ronan says, "which means you have it. Congratulations. Your life is about to get awesome."

When Ronan laughs again, Wilhelm pushes his hand through his hair and tries to relax. In times like these he often finds himself trying to channel Erik's ease and poise; unfortunately, it doesn't ever seem to work for him.

"Yeah, sure," he answers good naturedly if not totally convincingly. Awesome is still not the word he would use to describe any of this, personally. At least Ronan seems sincere enough in his encouragement, if something so hard-edged can be called encouragement. Now he laughs half in amusement, half in disbelief. "I guess I'm Harry fucking Potter."

He has no idea if that reference makes one bit of sense to this guy, but that doesn't bother him so much.

Ronan very much gets the reference, and to that he says, "Fuck Harry Potter. This is real life, man. This is your real life."

He understands the disbelief, how difficult it must be to land in a magical place after so long believing magic was only the stuff of fairytales. But it's been Ronan's duty for a long while now to usher people like Wilhelm out of the darkness and into the light. A responsibility he takes pride in.

"This is gonna be the best thing that ever happened to you."

While he isn't fully convinced that being stuck here is an improvement over being trapped in his regular life — with his family's expectations weighing on his shoulders, and the future closing around him like a tomb — he finds a thread of encouragement in Ronan's words. This is your real life. What did he have back home? In bending to satisfy his family, he'd lost the one thing that ever really mattered to him. His life there was nothing but rubble. All that remained was a furious flame, ready to burn everything in its path.

Here, like there, he feels profoundly alone. But here, at least, he might have some choice.

"Is that a guarantee?" he jokes.

Then, shifting the conversation, he remembers what he'd come over here to ask in the first place. He clears his throat. "You said before that you can get people anything they want. Like...what?"

"Like anything," Ronan answers, puffing up a little, apparently very pleased to be asked. He'd been forbidden from discussing it all his life, but in this place where magic is prized, he's free to spill everything he used to keep bottled up.

"Some people ask for the convenient stuff. Toothpaste, shampoo, whatever. Other people show me stuff they're missing from home and I make them a copy. I make a ton of clothes for people. Half this room is wearing shit I made for them."

He gestures toward the others, the ones who aren't newcomers, dressed as fine as Ronan himself. They aren't rich, after all. He's just favored them.

Then he jerks a thumb toward the shelves lining the wall, all of them displaying Kylo's personal collection of various magical trinkets, not unlike the strange device Ronan was playing with a few minutes ago. He adds, "I can make stuff that never existed before, too."

Suddenly, Wilhelm understands why Ronan laughed when he was so impressed by the little floating trick he'd done earlier. That really was nothing.

"So you can just make stuff? Just like—" He snaps his fingers. "—that?"

Again, he can't disguise his amazement. By now, he's heard all about the Horizon, how you can imagine whole landscapes into existence and complete it with whatever amenities you desire. What Ronan describes sounds a lot like that.

"Shampoo would be great. Toothpaste, deodorant." He wrinkles his nose, shakes his head with a dry crackle of a laugh. "I have no idea how anybody used to live like this. Never thought I'd be this excited about shampoo."

But he'd also never tried to wash his hair with a bar of soap until he walked into the communal baths and realized that none of the basic toiletries he'd always taken for granted were available. While he doesn't think of himself as vain, he's subject to the same self-consciousness that weighs on everyone his age. To that end, his hair has been a minor tragedy lately.

Ronan grins, pleased by Wilhelm's appropriate level of amazement. Yes, he is very impressive, and it's so nice when people express that instead of immediately resorting to murder.

"It's not quite—" Ronan also snaps his fingers. "—but it's easy. I can get all that stuff to you tomorrow. Anything else to add to the shopping list?"

"Gum?" he asks. When he sweeps his hair back this time, his hand lingers, idly scrubbing at the back of his head.

The request sounds thoroughly juvenile, he's aware, but...he really needs something to chew on other than his fingernails or his lips or the inside of his cheek.

"If I think of anything cooler, I'll let you know." And with a grin, he adds, "Thanks."

Ronan doesn't appear to think the request is very juvenile at all. In fact, he seems to be weighing it with much more consideration than it deserves for something that ought to be quite simple to conjure.

Of course, it's not the gum itself that's the problem. It's the potential consequence of ingesting it. A warning seems necessary, though Ronan isn't sure how to issue it without sounding incredibly creepy.

Oh well.

"I can get you the gum," he says, "but you should be careful not to swallow it. Things might happen."

The deliberative pause is not what he expects, given the complexity of some of the examples Ronan had floated past him — clothing, magical trinkets, favorite possessions from home. What could be so complicated about gum?

Then comes that...ominous warning.

"Things?" he repeats flatly with a grimace. "Do I want to know?"

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Study Room Gathering

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