ꙮ The 36 th tower’s common room. Well, -your- common room. It’s a residential tower, there’s a number of common rooms. I didn’t pick any old random one. In this, particular, common room, Caion’s waiting, idly holding a memory crystal in his hands with his eyes closed, eyes moving like he’s speed-reading, or maybe dreaming.
No song playing
Up next: 0 songs
1 listening
- The Dragon
Scene Archives
← Active ScenesAn Academic Perspective
#awoken
#saint
#caion
quietly stalks up, and leans in to be both behind, and curving around one side of Caion. With arms behind his back, he suddenly asks: “What’cha doin’?”
is standing in the doorway to the common room, watching this play out. Helpfully, though!
does not yelp! Yelping would be Undignified. He is just… loudly, briefly startled, that is all! But then he Detects The Awoken’s Presence - and sees Salme when his eyes jerk open, and he laughs and smiles. “Just reading something an old mentor of mine gave me to look over.” He waves the memory crystal, vaguely. “It’s like a book, only you can fit fifteen of them into your pocket.”
: “It would normally take an especially tailored coat to perform the same feat, though Archie’s revised garb would make a good play for it.”
laughs and walks over to Caion and Awoken. “This entire world thinks, and probably reads, too much,” she says, looking at the crystal in Caion’s hands. “Any new insights, Scholar-Emissary?”
grins amiably at Salme. “Tch, imagine reading -too- much. You just have to keep things varied. Every time Ksenija is in town she brings me a handful of stories written by the children at Cloudset and they’re always absolutely delightful. It’s not -all- theories and abstract analysis.” He gets up, stretches his legs. “Well, not for me, anyways. Today, though! Scholar-Professor Xie has a new lecture series he’s working on, and he asked me to come listen to him present some of his thoughts before the lecture series formally starts, and… I was hoping I could snag a couple of you into it, too, actually!”
: “What’s the topic?”
: “We’re the ideal choice too. We were just reviewing the academic virtues.”
: “It was a very… concentrated study.”
slants a smile at the Awoken, and says, “Caion, have I properly introduced you to my other better half? I know you’ve both met, obviously, but this is the Awoken, who has insisted that he doesn’t need more of a name than that.”
glances between Salme and Awoken, attempting, briefly, to ascertain what level of euphemism is in play before deciding that, with these two, the answer is -likely- an immeasurable superposition of all possible results. “Met but not been -properly- introduced. I know you got on well with Synthesis, which means I already like you.”
: “Sometimes, a title can be a name! See also: professor, doctor, master.”
gestures in the Awoken’s direction, and a few colorful flourishes of gnosis–mostly pellucid, to match the azure of his eyes and hair–spark dramatically around him, and catch at his hair very fetchingly.
pulls himself to his full height- which isn’t a lot, but still. “Oh! Yes, Synthesis and I have met, and shared of odd experiences and truths. It’s been interesting, being aware of having a piece of them with me.”
: “You have a piece of them?”
: “Solei calls me Scholar-Emissary more often than they call me by my name, we’re used to that around here-“ -he raises an eyebrow at the Awoken, and smiles, -deeply-. “Did they now?”
: “Hm? Oh, I didn’t mention it, huh.”
slips a hand into one of his coat pockets, and smoothy pulls it back out, producing a pearl nestled within the presenting hold of four fingers, pinky extended outwards.
: “It was a curious offering, but I fear not the curious!”
opens her mouth, closes her mouth, opens her mouth again, and then decides better of it and closes it, with a helpless shrug.
observes, but does not touch, the Pearl, and has a sequence of emotions cross over his face that all seem like some shade of joy or relief. And he gives Salme a -look-, with a corner of his mouth turned up. (It’s immediately legible as ‘girl, you have good taste’.)
: “(I do wonder what all they experience. Mayhap that’s the worst place for them. A necklace? A bracelet? A ring?)”
: “(Somehow I figured they sensed gnosis… or maybe I just assumed!)”
inclines her head at Caion’s look. She knows she does. Or. She’s learning to trust that she does.
: “This must be why they were inspired to construct a gift of their musicianship to give to all of you. Quite the impression you must have made. It’s… good to hear. Synthesis is a dear friend, and they haven’t had many people to talk to.”
: “Sininen is, I think, of all of us the best at winning the hearts of those who aren’t often heard.”
: “A skill which many of you seem to have, as far as I can discern. It’s quite refreshing.” He rolls his head around a bit on his shoulders, stuffs the memory crystal into the pocket of his coat.
: “Aww, I meet those where they meet me. It’s especially interesting and fun to do so when they were so immediately relevatory!”
: “Also, to answer your question from earlier, they make pieces of jewelry specifically designed to carry a pearl like that given to you by a friend.” He grins at the Awoken - and pulls out a captive-bead wirework on the end of a necklace he’s wearing, holding a pearl much like the one the Awoken just showed him. “I made this one myself. Sometimes I need to take a step back from the world and do something with my hands, and it felt… like a good way to honor them.” There’s something a -little- sad about the way he says it, but he’s smiling when he tucks it back into his shirt.
: “Huh! I’ll have to pursue such- though not now, it’d make us late to class.”
: “Or, well, practice class?”
turns to look at Salme. “Sweet sparrow, feel up to sitting in on another lecture?”
: “I think I can manage, especially as I assume it won’t be quite as intensive as a private tutoring session with a demanding professor,” she says, and yes, she does meet Caion’s gaze when she says it, a little playfully, inviting him in on the joke. Yes we did, yes it was, don’t we count as proper Samudrans now?
quietly ticks the dial several notches closer to ‘euphemism’ from wherever he’d previously left it, and the other corner of his mouth curls up in a smile, and he remembers- well. He blushes, slightly, and saves his dignity by heading doorwards. “I’ll lead the way, then.”
is either oblivious, or fully accepting of any implications levied towards him. To really find out, you’d have to ask…but until then, he rubs his hands together, following Caion.
: “(Ohh, we could only be so lucky if it was though…)”
ꙮ And then it’s through the Academy. Caion does not know how to walk -slowly- through these halls when he knows where he’s going, although he does try to keep aware of where Salme and the Awoken are and pause to catch up if they’re not keeping up. Out the hallway, across the bridge to the main tower, down an elevator, across another bridge, -up- another elevator and then, inexplicably, -down- another one…
is used to being shorter than almost everyone around her, and is also used to traveling long distances on foot. She keeps up easily, even if she does have to adopt a bit of a trot to do so.
defaults to switching between a light jog and measured trots, but he also doesn’t cut an efficient path across the grounds. He can’t help but look this way and that, being sneakily snooping into lecture hall windows, looking out through grand panes…
ꙮ Standing in -front- of a door to a much smaller lecture hall- more of a lecture room, really- is an ancient-looking Naiad in ornate purple robes, with dark eyes and a mustache like the world’s most ancient catfish at the bottom of the world’s most ancient lake, and a profoundly grave mien that’s utterly broken when they see Caion approach.
hadn’t ever considered the possibility of a Naiad having facial hair, and she wonders why she hadn’t now that she sees Caion’s friend. She practices the virtue of Relinquishment, but also. How? Why?
: “Ahh, Caion! And you brought your friends along, excellent.” They bow to Salme and the Awoken, rapidly and efficiently. “I am Scholar-Professor Xie. Arcs-Through-The-Depths-Towards-Truth’s-Light and Caion were students of mine, years ago. Every so often they indulge an old scholar by listening to me ramble. Would you be willing to do the same?”
ꙮ They have the strangest accent in the world. Rambling, slurring, none of the stress in the right place, a bit like a pirate. I’m not going to even try to represent it in text, but I need you to know how odd it sounds.
: “Pleased to meet you Scholar-Professor Xie! I’m Awoken!” He jams his hands in his pockets and leans forward into a nod. “I’m sure your ramblings are actually focused and intentful!”
makes the same dramatic curtsy she’s started to adopt since she upgraded her outfit. “I’m Salme, and I would be happy to listen as well.”
laughs, delightedly. “That makes… two of you, at least, since Caion’s always assuring me of the same, and the Virtues demand I accept your scholarship in the matter.” He ushers you all in - it’s almost more of a -lounge- than a lecture room, really, with an array of couches and chairs in a semicircle.
flops bodily into one of them, crossing one leg over the other, with the air of someone who’s done this any number of times.
chooses a couch near Caion to curl up, tucking her legs underneath her. She doesn’t yelp when the cold air exposes a bit of thigh–she’s getting better at that–but she startle, and quickly readjust her skirt.
doesn’t stand at a lectern with a crystal board - instead, he folds himself into a chair at the centre of the semicircle, glancing curiously at Salme and the Awoken. “Before I begin, I would know of the scholarship in your Circles. What do -you- know of the Stillness, and of the Song? What do they evoke in your hearts?”
: “Ahahahahah…”
spins and flops into a chair, and kicks his feet up onto a nearby surface, one foot over the other.
: “Here come two truths-“
: “I am intimately familiar with the Stillness and Song, and also, I don’t know a single solid thing about it, it’s all vibes.”
grins, broadly, and leans back in his chair. A good answer.
frowns, like she’s trying to remember something, and then says slowly, “the Stillness is the … material. The thing you can touch. The Song is … the action. What you can do with it. The crystal and the writing on the board with the coral stylus.”
nods, also, to Salme. Another good answer.
raises a hand, and invokes five spheres. Red, green, blue, cream, violet. “We theorise - we have not proven it, but we theorise, that all -things-, all matter and material, are composed of the tones of gnosis which which we are all familiar. Pellucid, first and foremost… braided with Flourishing, becomes the coral with which we build. Braided with Burning, is cleared of all impurity to become crystal. Braided in more complex manners, it can become all manner of thing. But what is it -first-?” He does something with his hand, and the orbs condense into one- something it’s hard to look at dead-on. “What is the egg from which gnosis, and all matter, hatches? The world is an organism, understood in its organisation, in the complex ramifications of gnosis. What precedes the world - to this one’s understanding - that is the Stillness.” He shakes his hand, lets the orb vanish.
: “What is the Song, if the Stillness is an egg?” He raises an eyebrow.
taps some fingers against his chin.
: “Clearly… heat.”
leans forward in his chair, meeting the Awoken’s gaze. “Elaborate, if you would?”
also turns to look at the Awoken, gaze intent, evaluating. She sure is glad she didn’t say, ‘a chicken,’ which is absolutely the only thought she could come up with.
holds up a pointer finger, waving it about occasionally with his explanation. “Well… I made an assumption that we would eventually combine the Stillness and Song to make a chirping chick. So the missing factor from getting from ‘egg’ to ‘chick’, is well, warmth. Care. A fluffy chicken bottom.”
: “I just abstracted it out a bit.”
grins! Almost jumps out of his chair! “But why a -chicken-, and not a -serpent-? Serpents hatch from eggs as well. What makes one egg desire to hatch into a serpent, and organise itself in one fashion, and one egg desire to hatch into a chicken, and organise itself in another way? And who is to say that an egg could not desire to hatch into a basilisk, or a catoblepas? What force exists, in the world, that beholds an egg, and extrapolates a chicken! Caion, have you let your guests go hungry?”
: “No, Scholar-Professor Xie, I have not.” He’s grinning to himself.
: “Heheheheh. I do witness far more chickens than I do serpents, so there is some level of bias.”
points at the Awoken. “Precisely. We sing of chickens first, and serpents much later, and of catoblepas and basilisks we sing not at all.”
looks down, looks across to Salme, and he whispers. “(I think I’ve only really… heard of them, now that I’m really trying to remember.)”
: “(Only heard of chickens? Sininen, you’ve seen chickens, I promise).”
snickers. “(I mean like… snakes… I don’t know I feel like I should have seen a snake somewhere. Then again there’s one on the Rite cards, so… maybe that’s the one I can’t get out of my head.)”
: “The egg is the plane through which desire moves. Desire to become. Desire for a chicken, perhaps. (Or a discussion of chickens, held in fervent whispers. This, too, is the Song.)”
: “I mean. A chicken hatches from an egg because a chicken laid that egg. If a serpent laid the egg, it’d be a serpent. I don’t. Think. That’s negotiable?”
: “I feel like the framing sort of breaks down if you think about it overmuch, yeah.”
: “(Snakes are cute. Next we are in my home, we can go hunting grass snakes. They like to sun themselves on rocks when the light is bright).”
gestures, dramatically, at Salme. “Precisely! But -why- is that non-negotiable? This… this is a principle of the Song. That one step goes before another, that a chicken lays chicken eggs, that a serpent lays serpent eggs. But it is not a -fundamental truth-. If an egg could sing, it could become an Egg, rather than simply an egg. A field of pure potential, that could follow its eggly rules laid down for it in its shell, or it could Become in a different direction.” He summons the orbs, again. “And this is my theory: That it is our -Song-, that is what truly influences gnosis to become one thing, rather than another, in every moment of our existence. Not just the gnosis-work we do with intention, but the gnosis-work we do with our own life. We sing our food into sustenance. We sing the rules that the world ought to follow, and we sing the rules that we wish to break, and we call the latter ‘magic’, but it is all the same Song.”
: “And, to me, it stands to reason that, from the right -perspective-, one could understand the system of the Song, just as clearly as one could understand the clear and obvious system of the Stillness, the lines according to which it breaks down into gnosis, and world-stuff.” And then he sinks back into his chair, and laughs. “And perhaps you will be the ones who find that perspective. I daren’t imagine it will be me, only that my ramblings might inspire you in your studies.”
tilts his head. “Daren’t imagine it would be you? Do you say that as a fundamental truth?”
: “Oh, I’d love to be surprised. I’d always love to be surprised. But I stand on the shoulders of all who came before me, one swimmer in the River Without Water, and I know that others will follow me in turn.”
: “This is the way that I hope.”
: “And is it a fundamental truth, that an egg cannot sing?”
: “I do not believe so. I have not yet observed an Egg, simply eggs. But that is not a proof that they do not exist.”
: “Who …” Salme begins, slowly. “Who do you think wrote the song? Or said it must be sung, instead of being told, like a story? Who said there are five colors, and each has a word that describes it, and that word means desire and that one context and that one logic and that one selflessness and that one sacrifice? Who told us that a chicken must be a chicken? Who carved–“ she draws up, and blinks. “Who carved the shape of the world? If your theory is correct–and I’m not enough of a scholar to say if it is or isn’t–why is it like this? Who gave us the pattern we can’t help but enact again, and again, and again.”
glances uncertainly at Caion, then at the Awoken as she finishes speaking.
wiggles his eyebrows at Salme.
gives him a weak smile in return.
glances at Salme, curiously. “A question I, and others, have tried to answer. Tradition tells us that the Stillness and the Song together predated everything that is, everything that we see. That the River flows from the gap between the Stillness and the Song, and all our knowledge with it. But that is not an -answer-, it is a story we are told, and tell, in and of itself. What great act of volition, what Song-work rather than Stillness-work, would it take to create a sixth tone of gnosis? And how could one master it? It could not be found within the Stillness that we observe. One would have to look in a direction other than those which the laws of our world bind us to perceive. And this, I know not how to do. Although I’ve not given up trying. There are patterns to the world I -know- I… we, have not yet discovered.”
scrunches up his face, caught on something Salme or Xie said, but silent.
begins to chuckle, ominiously.
: “How about a creative writing exercise? To test certain assumptions.”
raises an eyebrow, catfish-mustache twitching curiously.
: “Well, maybe it’s less ‘assumptions’ but more… ‘perceptions.’”
: “You’re a writer of fiction. You decide that you are going to create Stillness, and Song, as people- give them form, personalities, patterns of speech, in a way that’s understandable to your self-insert main character.”
: “What’s Stillness like? What’s Song like?”
narrows her eyes at the Awoken.
tilts his head to the side, closes his eyes. “If it were me? I would imagine that Stillness would be the manifestation of boundless possibility… and Song the companion that brought Stillness down to earth, bound to meaningfulness.” He is -not- giving Caion a meaningful look. “An Egg Unhatching is nothing more than a kind of mineral, after all. Neither are an endpoint. They play off of each other, drive each other to greater heights of creative endeavour. They would be the cause of love in the world.” A wry smile. “But I am a hopeless romantic at heart, and I know it. Still, you asked what -I- would write.”
: “Yeah, that’s fine. It’s an exercise, not like it’s real.”
: “You wouldn’t be doing downward dog stretches in the middle of a Rite, yeah?”
laughs. “I’m not an Irós, it’s far from my expertise. But I assume that wouldn’t exert an advantage, no.”
: “Within that same exercise, I ask- is the Song only the companion? Is the Song ‘meaning itself,’ a grounding aspect? Or can Song have its own desire?”
: “My story’s Song’s desire… would be to behold what it and the Stillness together wrought, I believe. Inasmuch as desire could have desire… We have a saying. ‘Life’s purpose is living’. If desire itself desires, it would desire to see life, see complexity, see possibility enacted in the world. Or, maybe, that’s just what -I- want, selfishly. Questions to answer. Complexities to be understood, or spend one’s life trying.” There’s a light shrug.
leans back into his chair. “Thank you for considering my prompt, Scholar-Professor! It is here, that I dare continue to control the narrative-“
’s frown has relaxed into one of awe and fascination, like she’s just again seeing the Awoken, and seeing him again, with each thing he says.
: “What is a Polite Visitor, and why is it the closest approximation to pure Song?”
looks over to Salme, and gives her a wink.
raises -both- eyebrows, startled, briefly glances between both Salme and Caion and then back at the Awoken, and leans forward again. “…I defer to my student’s expertise, on this topic.”
flushes and quickly turns to look at Caion as well.
turns to Salme at almost the exact same time. “May I share your… observations, my friend?”
nods. And then, because she wants to be clear, she says, “anything I told you is yours to share with Scholar-Professor Xie.”
looks from Xie to Caion and back again, thinking over this reaction.
draws her legs up to her chest and shoves her arms through the jacket Archie gave her, pulling it tight across her body.
gets up from his seat, and moves to sit next to Salme, casually flicking an arm out and around her balled up form.
leans gratefully into him. “(Despite your best efforts, Professor, I fear I’m a poor scholar indeed),” she whispers to him.
looks -immensely- grateful to Salme, and immensely -curious- towards the Awoken, but first, and his voice almost breaks with it: “Xie, teacher. She saw what -I- saw, when she beheld one. And one of her companions saw it too, after a brief moment.” He turns towards the Awoken. “What did -you- see? Did it frighten you? It’s- it’s okay. We can talk about it here. If you need me to, I can put up a bubble.”
considers Caion, and his stare is one of hesitation, his eyes focused on the Emissary, as though he’s judging Caion’s ability, and not his own.
: “I’d form a bubble, yeah. For a few reasons that we’ll get into. And I figure you’d rather witness them than sink them.”
tenses under the Awoken’s arm. “I can also leave, if that’s a concern. I know I caused some … turbulence, earlier.”
rubs Salme with the embracing arm.
: “Let us both lead them in steps through the darkness, sweet sparrow.”
: “I would rather not do so alone.”
glances at Salme, and there’s a vulnerability you’ve not seen often in Samudra. “Please, stay?”
sees Caion’s glance, and the weight behind it, and feels the Awoken’s touch, and the weight of his words, and she nods.
gets up, wanders around the room, touching a few spots on the wall, murmuring under his breath, tracing well-traced patterns, and a pattern of gnosis-work lattices itself into existence, and something -solidifies-, and then he sits back down.
: “Is that something one of us could learn, actually? Archie can, obviously, but it seems …. very useful.”
: “Salme. You and Caion beheld the same thing? Without being Circled?”
softly, to Salme: “I think I can teach you the working for it. It’s not that hard.”
: “Yes. I barely knew Caion then. We were on the Glass Ship, going to Ripple’s Rest. I only found out much later that what I saw was the same thing.”
: “Praise the River, from which flows all wonders known and not-yet-known.” He blinks, slowly. “No two people have ever beheld a creature of the depths and seen the -same- thing, except inasmuch as their greatest fears were closely aligned, or that they were circled, and engaging in protective eidesis against their fear. Until now. And that is wondrous and strange to me.”
glances at the Awoken like he’s on the edge of something incredible. “What did you see?”
rests her head against the Awoken’s chest and listens for his heartbeat.
’s heart is even, and his chest rumbles steadily as he speaks. “I saw nothing- a creation of nothing. A hole not just in the water, but the world itself. One so limitless and empty that just by witnessing it, you knew it had a boundary of ‘forever.’”
: “You’d pick up a stone just to toss it in and listen for the splash that would never come. Surely, surely if you did, then somewhere it would respond, right? But… you also would know that it would not.”
scrunches up his face curiously, and listens.
: “And defining this hole, surrounded like fringe on a collar, are thousands and thousands of hands, coated in violet, reaching up from the edges. Beckoning, but not… grasping? Maybe waving. It’d be presumptious to think they’d be waving for me.”
listens, and taps out a the rhythm of his heartbeat against his leg, complicating it with the rhythm of his words, some sort of poetic meter–stressed, then not, then stressed, then not, the second stress less than the first. Not the heartbeat-iamb but the declarative trochee. “(And you’d hate to be presumptions),” she says, with a curl of a smile.
grins. “(They can get a high-five in other ways, at other times.)”
: “But that was about all I had time to observe, not able to dip a toe of liminal gnosis to really see if the infinite was truly so.”
: “And if I’m being honest? I bet there’s some kind of seabed behind it.”
: “Two questions. First, and I feel I already know the answer to this but I have to ask anyways: Was this visage in any way frightening or terrifying to you? Second: What, to you, makes this the closest approximation to pure Song?”
starts to shake, silently, and it might seem to be fear or anxiety, but the Awoken knows it’s laughter. “(Oh you were just waiting for that bubble, weren’t you?)”
: “(I do know restraint outside of the bedroom, it just has to be dramatic.)”
: “Well…” His eyes look about the room, and settle on Caion. “Terrifying or frightening? Not really, no.”
: “I mean it was awe-inspiring, perhaps.”
: “Like, I’m sure there’s some mathemeticians about that if you ask them to really think about infinity, they’d glaze over and have to be in a bubble.”
can’t keep an actual laugh from choking out as an undignified snort there.
has been deep in thought since a minute ago, and waits until the Awoken’s done, before: “A third question for your associate, Caion, as I find myself ill-read in your company. What in the Depths do you mean by ‘liminal gnosis’?”
’s eyes shift over to Xie, and his grin widens as his eyes tighten.
listens to the Awoken’s answer, and (rotates) it, slowly and carefully. (And laughs, very gently.)
: “I’ll put that question in the queue. We’re gonna focus on the Song, here.”
: “You see… maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s the free-association we all have with the concepts. But the Polite Visitors are dangerous because they build off of, and reinforce, and amplify, their witnesses’ fears and terror, yes?”
uncurls enough to watch Caion’s face.
nods to the Awoken, looking him right in the eye, very intensely. Not upset or alarmed, just -intense-. “For… everyone here, everyone I’ve ever known, or read of, they look at the Visitors and see their deepest and truest terror, made manifest.”
first says “Hmmm…” thoughtfully, consdering the intensity of Caion’s entire being. Then, a sharp laugh: “Hah! This must be a harrowing interview for you, then. I’ll stay on topic-“
quietly states: “Studying the Polite Visitors has been the quiet focus of my entire life, Awoken. Please continue. This is -very- valuable to me.”
carefully reaches across the arm of her couch to offer Caion a hand to hold. Without expectation, but making it clear that it’s there, for him.
: “The way the Samudrans have created to combat this phenomenon is to invert the terror, to have it defanged and disarmed, absurdity and comedy replacing tragedy.”
nods. “The technique Archie and I performed, out of concern for your safety. There have been Glass-Ships lost to a thoughtstorm on someone’s first sea voyage. Many of them.”
: “If I were to hold a lecture on this very technique, I’d name it something like…”
: “ ‘The Silliness and Song.’ “
laughs, abruptly and unexpectedly.
: “We recognize a song for a song due to either long standing examinations of music theory, or a feeling of ‘yeah that sounds good.’”
: “But the Song, capital-S… if a Song could Sing, what form would it take?”
: “Does a Song know Stillness whatsoever?”
: “Or would a Song seek out Stillness? Grasp upon its most vulnerable, weakest parts… and amplify them?”
: “Because it is a Song, it sings to what it is, and it is deciding to become that terror.”
: “And then, at some point, the Samudrans said- no! I will no longer hand you my terror. I shall form you into a cross-eyed toad, or wiggly-eyed maw eel, or any other number of clownfish apperati.”
: “This is a theory based off of observation of Samudran practices.”
: “They give something form- the form is Stillness. That something, is wildly creative, incredibly powerful, and possibly limitless.”
: “…they turn the egg back into an Egg, you mean, and it hatches the horror we already held in our heart. But then… is it their -will- to be seen as terrifying? Why would they wish for that? And why… I know that I am not invulnerable, that Salme for all her -clear- strength is not invulnerable. Why do -we- see the same thing? And why am I… -sure-, to my marrow, that what we see is their -true- face?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “When it was just me, I could convince myself that it was simply madness. My own fear, that of being out of sync with my Clan and- with Archie. But before we ever really met or spoke of what we saw, Salme saw, detail for detail, what I saw, and Wolf did as well. What does… what do -you- think that that means?”
: “Do they wish for that? Or is it their nature?”
: “Does a Song have a wish?”
: “What if it’s neither?”
glances at Salme, curiously.
nods to Salme. “It could be neither!”
: “What if … when confronted with infinite, limitless possibility, it is easier to see a horror you know than one you don’t?”
: “And why, in 99.999-repeating percent circumstances, has it always had the effect of terror on those who view it?”
takes a breath. “I could be wrong. I’m probably wrong. But … there is comfort in there being a chicken from a chicken egg. There is comfort in knowing we’ll die at the end of a long life. There is comfort in knowing there is a song and it has rules and tones, and rhythm. If you must confront the fact that anything is in fact possible, then you have to confront any number of things. Most truths you know are immediately obliterated.”
: “These are questions I lack answers to.”
: “But, I will say something that should be comforting.”
: “(Though if that was it then why would I see it for what it was and Sininen not?)” She chews on her lip.
looks up. “Dread. Curiosity’s old enemy. If Curiosity is the drive to correlate the contents of one’s mind, then Dread is the overflow of its outcome. A thing too big for one mind to hold. Contents resolving into something it cannot survive intact. A theorem that, if proven, would have unthinkable consequences. And so we see a familiar horror, instead.”
glances sidelong at the Awoken. “Genuine question. -Are- you afraid of -anything-?”
nods at Xie. “Yes. That was. What I was thinking.”
: “More than one entity witnessing the same form? There’s a level of Empiricism which can be explored, even if the link between them is not wholly understood yet.”
: “Because I think… what you saw… is what you should have been afraid of, in a world where you knew how to be afraid, but I am getting the overwhelmingly strong impression that fear is a thing you can spell and define but simply do not experience.”
: “I am bothered by things, surely, but… fear?”
gives a breathless, shaky laugh at that.
: “Nothing that I can imagine myself not immediately running towards.”
: “So you looked upon what your mind offered up as its egg of known, simple horror, and you were… curious, and interested, in its properties and contours.”
: “I recognized that it could be dangerous, but…”
: “That wasn’t… really… going to stop me?”
laughs, softly. “You’d make a good Irós, I think.”
: “Or perhaps a terrifyingly reckless one.”
: “He’d be good at anything he wished,” she tells no one in particular.
: “And I say that knowing my Aunt’s proclivities.”
: “What’s an Irós?”
glances very quickly at Xie out of the corner of his eye, who seems to be placidly taking this all in in quiet hope of getting an answer to his question about liminal gnosis. “It’s the title for the captains of the Glass Ships and the leaders of the Kushtaka. They know the Rite inside and out, and they can bring people together into a Circle like nobody else. That’s how the Ships work, the Irós links their minds together through the old songs, and they sing of carrying their fire to its destination.”
: “Mmm… I see.”
: “Could we. Try. To reach out to one of the Visitors, using something like that? To link together minds and draw on more than just my gnosis, or yours? To understand better?”
grins dangerously at Salme. “…well, it’s never been done before, but that just means we’ve got an experimental protocol to develop.”
looks down at her knees. “I’m not good at theorizing. I can only say what I know. I can only do. We can imagine and think through this as much as we want, but.” She shrugs.
: “I think you’re -quite- good at theorizing, Scholar-Saint.” He leans back in his chair, -light- in a way you’ve never really seen him.
rolls her eyes. “Thank you, but I’m aware of where my strengths are. I just. Obviously I never thought I saw what I saw because I was strong. I thought it was just because I was–well. But maybe, if it’s just the mind trying to conjure a legible image, it’s because the things I’m afraid of can’t be distilled in that way.”
rubs Salme some more. “It’s a strength that comes from relating with others. Not everyone does it so easily!”
: “And when I did call out to it, and when I did hear the Visitor,” she glances at Xie and gives a small shrug, “I heard sound. So much noise. Something that could be construed as music if you’re avant-garde enough, but never written as such. If Sininen is right about the Song, then that makes sense–they are the Song unscored, unwriteable.”
: “Er–maybe. But probably not.”
: “Unscored, unwritable… that is a much better way of putting it.”
: “No, I… think that makes sense. I’m not sure what it -implies- yet, but I think that makes sense.”
: “And I’d very much like to test this theory.”
: “I’d like to join you when you do, if you’ll have me.”
: “I’d not even attempt it without you. Co-authors when we publish?” He grins, lightly.
smiles in return, but it’s short. She tilts her head towards the Awoken. “You are the best with Liminal Gnosis, Sininen. I’m not … sure how many people would be ideal but. It is a task that calls for some degree of liminality, I think.”
slaps his knee with a hand. “Right! Liminal gnosis!”
: “I did promise I’d get back to that.”
leaaaaaans forward.
: “Let’s see, let’s see…”
says, in a soft aside to Caion, “(you can’t be unacquainted with liminal, can you? Or did you simply not realize?).”
: “(Several things which did not make sense to me previously are suddenly making sense to me.)”
inclines her head in a sympathetic nod. “(This is me every day, all of the time).”
: “(Then I’m in the best of all possible company.)”
: “If the other five gnosis are approaches, passions, and feelings regarding the self… liminal gnosis is… gosh, I suppose it’d be what came before the egg?”
: “Practically speaking, a fair amount of its application I’ve found, has been to reduce the space between things.”
reaches out, and holds Salme’s hand, if it’s still there.
it is. She gives his hand a squeeze.
: “But if I were to reaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally think about it, what I’m doing is just, shortening the distance between two points.”
: “Which sounds, kind of impossible, you can’t make a meter more or less than it is…”
: “…or can you?”
mouths the word ‘meter’ but there is no concept forthcoming.
: “And as such… there’s really a lot, a lot of applications for liminal gnosis.”
flicks his hand, and a string of gnosis forms between that hand and the other, with little bright beads of light near the endpoints, and a smaller flicker travels between them, periodically.
slowly, brings his hands together, and at a certain point- the flicker jumps the track, the beads brought close enough together for the arc between to be the shortest distance.
glances up at the Awoken, with an eyebrow raised.
: “Straighten it out, again.”
thinks that little trick might qualify as a ‘train.’
pulls his hands apart - and the flicker just bounces between the beads, bypassing the string altogether.
ꙮ Traversing a strange path, perhaps.
: “That’s an interesting application. I bet it’s explainable, somehow.”
: “Wonder if I…”
: “It’s… about right, I’d say. But moreso than a trick, it’s a redefinition of how things work.“
: “Suddenly, that path became the shorter one. For reasons probably explainable!”
: “But in invoking liminal gnosis… that’s what you’re creating, those reasons.”
laughs, in delight. “Yes, of course. But I have the right model of this strange new world you speak of?”
: “Sssssssssssssssssssss- eh, not really…? I feel like I’m better at showing applications than explaining them. They just sort of… come naturally.”
: “Would it be safe to show an application of this technique, do you think?”
: “Oh, yeah, absolutely. Did so before this meeting, no less.”
: “Caion, do you have a favorite confection?”
raises an eyebrow. “Kushtaka mint-drops. They’re sweet, and taste colder than ice somehow despite not being cold at all, and Ripple’s Rest has been out of them for tides or I’d have made sure to offer you some.”
stands up as Caion speaks, and removes his coat. “Out of stock, huh?”
: “Well, this might still work anyway.”
looks -utterly- baffled, but Observes.
: “Because I think there might be just enough floating about somewhere- maybe someone else is saving them, or maybe they ducked a count.”
: “And it’s possible that I idly picked them up, somewhere-“ He digs into one of the inside coat pockets.
: “-desite not really knowing what they were, to be honest-“:
ꙮ Liminal, please. DC 5.
- The Awoken invoked their 🌌liminal gnosis [d8] -> 4.
looks to Xie, and winks. [Spending 1 Arete]
- The Awoken spent 1 Arete and now has 5 remaining.
ꙮ Incredibly, there are precisely four Kushtaka mint-drops in your coat pocket.
: “Oh! Look at that.”
squin- no, stares.
he removes his hand from the coat, showing off the candies.
reels back in his chair with a slightly mad expression on his face (THIS one you’ve seen Caion do at least once already. It seems to be a Samudran tradition.)
: “This is an act that really, very, truly should have been impossible.”
: now tells Caion, “he brought me a sweet from my home a little earlier,” a little wryly, a lot fondly.
: “I had no idea what a Kushtaka mint-drop was before just now, but… I reached out, and plucked it from… Song knows where, and here it is.”
: “…yes, it rather should have been.” He’s laughing, very softly, under his breath. “That’s how he- that’s- hah! I think I’ve -touched- this before. I think- when I was helping Archie, on my side of-“ -he gestures, vaguely. “I’ll explain later. (My apologies, Professor.)”
: “I’m sure more radical things could be done- you could make a river change course, I bet. The waves crash away from the island. Create a stew that turns everyone who eats it into a toad.”
: “I’m already going to have to rewrite my entire lecture series, I couldn’t be happier.”
for his part rather adorably and with hope in his heart reaches out for a mint.
casually and lightly hands over a mint to Caion! And one to Xie. And sits down next to Salme, and presses one into her hand as well.
shakes his head, laughing, and pops it into his mouth. (They’re in little wrappers made out of paper that melts near-instantly in your mouth, and they’re delightful.)
: “We’ll have to find time to run proper experiments later.”
considers for a moment, and then pops hers into her mouth as well.
: “I think, for what it’s worth, that I was correct, by the way.” He pops the mint into his mouth, remembering a particular sense-memory, associated with the flavour, and smiles. “But in a way that I could not have predicted before seeing it with my own eyes. There is some property of your volition by which you observe the world from a different angle. And so, for now, I, from my angle, will observe, and I am very curious to see and understand what you do next.”
: “It seems I was the one who was to learn something unexpected and new, this class. May the River ever flow.”