ushiri: (Default)
Kyle ([personal profile] ushiri) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs2022-08-09 12:04 pm

( open log ) august catch-all

Who: "Kyle" + anyone!
What: Just a newly Summoned tries to get his bearings. Checking out the layout of the castle, wandering around Horizon. All starters are open unless otherwise marked!
When: The beginning-middle of August for now
Where: Castle Thorne, Horizon
Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Will update if needed!
Misc: Check out his opt-out for general content warnings about this character. Starters are brackets but I will match prose!



NORTH WING: THE STUDY HALL AND GRAND LIBRARY
[ He's beginning to get used to the freedom with which these people use witchcraft— magic. In the study hall he observes the students and masters work from a safe distance, allowing them to assume whatever they wish of his curiosity from his plain tunic marked with the symbol of The Hanged Man and genuinely surprised expressions whenever they manage some particularly flashy bit of spellwork. The lights and flashes of color have a beauty to them, the movements of objects in thin air wonderous and kind of comical at times— when an apprentice creates a fake doorway he can't help remembering a colorful cartoon about a coyote and a speedy bird playing on an old, dusty television screen.

He unconsciously catalogues the practical motions of their magic— out of curiosity, and, perhaps unconsciously at first, out of necessary, life-preserving habit. He might one day need to quickly know the most efficient way to stop one of these mages from using their power.

It's never a thought he relishes, especially when he watches some of the younger ones, their expressions filled with awe at their teachers.

When he leaves, he does so quietly.

In the grand library he's overwhelmed for a minute. Neither in Nayeshi or Rathal'pesha has he seen a library of this grandeur, though there must have been something like it in the Black Tower before it fell...

He pulls out some tomes at random, finding a table to sit at where his back may face a wall. Despite his conversations with Jack he's actually not much of a reader. His attention wanders too easily when he's forced to sit still like this, a part of his awareness always on his surroundings when he's in such an open place.

There are histories of the kingdom that he skims, until he finds that he can't read a section. The words are in another language, which only stands out because so far he's been able to read just about everything as if it were in English or Payshmura script. ]


Can you read this? [ He'll ask with an raised eyebrow to whoever happens to be sitting near him. He holds up the passage, unbeknownst to him written in Ancient Thornean on the applications of magic in the past, nothing scandalous. ]

EAST, SOUTH AND WEST WINGS: LOOKING FOR BONES
[ He carefully maps what little he can of the east wing. When the guards ward him off he feigns being the bumbling outsider, which isn't so far from the truth, apologizing and turning around from the locked doors without argument. He's not used to being kept out of anywhere, but he doesn't have access to the Gray Space yet. He'll have to be patient.

He people watches in the south wing for a little while before moving on to the west wing. There he feels a little more comfortable, the cooks remind him of the women in the Lisam house. When they try to shoo him out he offers to carry some bags of flour from storage, listening to the back and forth of their comradery and, more importantly, scoping out where they toss their bones when they're done carving the meats. ]


HORIZON: THE TEMPLE

( description )
[ He'd come back to this place to conjure those promised magazines for Jack: it's only his second time entering the realm, the first with all of his memories intact.

Nothing of the Payshmura remains in Basawar, the Fai'daum and Jath'ibaye made sure of that. As lost as that realization had first made him feel, he couldn't blame them for what they did. And he had seen how life had continued for the people, no longer under the shadow of the Black Tower, no longer fearing that their daughters and wives might be accused of having witches' bones.

The Church had always feared the Rifter, and rightly so. But the people hadn't yet realized that they had never needed to.

It's strange to look at these two towering statues now, knowing who Jath'ibaye was and is. He tries to search out his features in their twin faces and they begin to take familiar form— which forces him to look away.

Once inside he sits on a thin rug in front of the iron tree, his leather duster folded on the floor next to him. His clothes are all black and form-fitting, his vest padded like body armor. Today is has white crystalline blossoms instead of its crystal fruit. There are echoes of the Payshmura in this place: the iron, the marble. But the air doesn't taste like burnt ozone. It's not thin and cold here. The tree looks ominous at first, but when he touches its iron bark is quickly warms from the heat of his palm. Above him the sky is a starry night, the darkest velvet of a Nayeshi sky and the pinpoint lights of stars burning brightly.

It's empty, but he doesn't feel alone here.

He can't remember the last time he felt this safe. ]


You can sit and pray, if you'd like. [ He'll say to anyone who enters through the open doors, still seated where he was at the base of the tree. There's a stone cup in his hand, the daru'sira curling with steam. More cups and glasses stand on a simple platter next to him, a simple iron teapot in front of them. He nods to them, then shrugs. ]

Or just relax with a drink.

[ As long as they don't plan on causing any disturbance.

Here, he doesn't mind visitors. There's a more sacred, hidden place behind the walls that he can go if he wanted to be alone to pray to his god. ]
thedevilwhorose: (of the beginning)

[personal profile] thedevilwhorose 2022-08-11 11:38 pm (UTC)(link)
I'd like to hope someone has already thought to do that. [He has a low opinion about most people, but there's a couple that he's met that have enough sense to them that have been here long enough.

He hasn't been asking the right questions, but then he hasn't been asking many, preferring to be a fly on the wall specifically to the locals until he gets his bearings and his vessel can stabilize to its new normal.]
Fat lot of good it's seemed to do if they have. [And maybe they're not asking the right questions.]