( open log ) august catch-all

[ushiri]

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. ]

Comments

[ushiri]

All paths are part of His will.

[ He recites this like agreement. They might not worship the same divine being, but it's more the shared sentiment that matters. He isn't the kind of fanatic that pushes his religion onto others.

Kahlil glances up, past the metal branches and toward the starry glass dome. He continues, softly. ]

The people turned against the Church, in my world.

[shadowthief]

[She nods a little at that. It is an agreeable point to be made.

It's been so long since she had someone to talk to in such a manner that she isn't entirely sure how to hold the conversation. Forgive her any awkward edges.]

That's always an unfortunate event... what happened to turn them away? If it is not too invasive to ask.

[ushiri]

[ It's the same for him. With the Payshmura banned, it was rare to catch anyone faithful under the age of fifty.

Maybe that's part of what drove his unconscious mind to grow this temple. To find others, or even one other person in this world that might be like him in that way. ]

The priests pushed the people too hard. Demanded too much gold and blood, destroyed too many lives trying to root out witches and criminals. There was rebellion against them.

[ He pauses, looking over at her again with a crease at his brow. ]

They were wrong for what they did to the people. But it was the men that were corrupt, not the belief.

[ But he still struggles at that separation. This place might not look like any of the temples in Basawar, but there are echoes of Rathal'pesha in the walls, pieces of himself that are hard to let go of even now. His faith had been a part of his survival for too much of his life. ]

[shadowthief]

Witches... they call Grisha that, in one of the neighboring countries. There are teams of men whose whole lot in life is to hunt them... kill them... they call Grisha abominations, demons, but the hatred is unfounded, all they ever did was dare to exist, but Grisha captured by the drüskelle stand no chance in their farce of a trial.

["...it was the men that were corrupt..."
She hums a soft noise in the back of her throat at that. She is painfully, personally, intimately aware of that fact herself.

She turns to look at him, features soft, but expression hard to read.]

Two things in the world are infinite: The universe...and the greed of men.

[She'd like to say it was three things, to add faith to that list, but she watched girls in Heleen's grasp drop whatever faith they had in their culture's deities so fast, it's impossible to blind herself to the fact that people lose it all the time. But for Inej, it's one of the only things that's kept her grounded through everything she's lived through.]

[ushiri]

[ Unlike the drüskelle it was not his sole purpose to hunt down witches - he'd been chosen for a different path than those priests who dragged men and women down the Holy Road, but he had held the torches and lit the pyres when he was told to. He can smell the black smoke as vividly as he can sometimes remember the blonde dog's words to him during a ceremony of witches and rebels that couldn't have happened -

He forces himself to hold her gaze as she continues, struggling to read her expression. She must be nearly a decade younger than him, but her youth belies something else, hard learned lessons that her words allude to. The greed of men. Kahlil reluctantly nods at that, finally breaking his gaze away for a second to look without looking at the roots of the tree before studying her again, a crease at his brow. ]

You're... welcome to come back here again. Any time. [ It's an offer he feels strangely awkward making. Maybe because he can't ever remember having a place of his own to offer this way. Nothing of his own.

He adds, almost sheepishly: ] I think that's how it works, anyway.

[ Does this place stay when he leaves? ]

[shadowthief]

[There is a respectful air about him, the sort that rests almost tangible between them, something she finds comforting.

She smiles softly at the offer.] Thank you.

[Her face scrunches slightly and she nods.] It does- these spaces exist whether we're here or not. I suppose...until we're no longer in this world at all.

[ushiri]

[ He nods, smiling back at her. Some tension in his shoulders relaxes just a bit. ]

My name is Kyle. What can I call you?

[shadowthief]

Inej. [She offers in return.] I should hope to see you again soon.