Scene Archives

stalks the hallways of the Academy, hunched forward, eyes hooded, hands jammed into pockets with thumbs out. He glances through the sliver of glass pane in one door- occupied. He slithers further forward, looks into another one- occupied. A groan rumbles in his chest as he slinks towards the next potential egress from the hallway.

peers about inside the open door- empty. He’s caught in thought for just long enough…

sneaks up behind him, hooking her finger in the back of his collar, tugging his head back just enough to whisper in his ear, “Oh, so this is where you’ve been.”

lets himself be hooked, but not without a pleased grin. “Oho, the sparrow dives upon its target?”

: “She tries, at least. She’s been missing you all day, and the day before,” she says, spinning him around and caging him against the wall. “We get to a new world and you go off making friends with strange pearl-clusters and sneaking around with Aury doing science. What’s a girl to think?” She says it playfully, but she did miss him.

snorts, his grin growing wider, and his head angled back ever so slightly to create an air of haughty confidence. A swift motion with his hands, and her hips are grasped between them. “You’re about to find out what a girl should be thinking.”

yelps and grabs his shoulders to stay on balance. “What are you doing?” she asks, voice slightly scandalized.

whirls about, sending the both of them into the open doorway, and the door can’t help but swish all the way open, reel back from its hinged restraints, and swing close with a click of sudden finality.

flicks her gaze around the room. “What an oddly public venue, Sinitöyhtönärhi,” she says, a little breathlessly–anxiously? She had a plan, and this isn’t. Quite. It.

: “A public venue, but an audience of only one,” he coos, walking her back towards the benches. “And the ‘one’ desperately needs, what the other is about to give. And that thing, is something that’s weighed heavily upon my thoughts.”

: “My dreams.”

: “My desires.”

: “And such that I have (rotated) it within my very essence, do I believe I can fully express it, right now, right here, to you.” Salme is backed up against a bench now, and firmly guided to seat herself within it. He waves his hand towards the crystal board, and it is with barely a hint of liminal gnosis that they respond, pulling themselves, and the coal stylus, up to his side, and within an open hand, thrust aside just in time to catch the implement.

sits.

: “And what is it that you wish to express, dearest bluejay?”

: “That, which can be marked as such…” He holds the coral stylus in his right hand, caressing the tip up Salme’s neck and across the tip of her jaw…

then spins about, striking the crystal board- the lashings creating the writing that displays: ‘THE STRUCTURE OF THE INQUIRING MIND’

stands cross-armed, his back to Salme, his coat brazenly shouting its embroidery to all those who would witness him. “What is… knowledge.”

laughs a little disbelieving. “I haven’t read the pamphlet yet, Sininen.”

turns his head to look over his shoulder, and tosses his head once to clear errant strands of hair from clouding his eyesight. (His eyes are simply gleaming with intent.) “Reading is helpful. Reading primes the body for understanding. But here, and now, shall understanding become divined, bestowed, and understood.”

looks at the board. What does her bluejay’s handwriting look like?

’s handwriting is sharp, dramatic angles- curves that do not arc gently, crosses who’s pressure only fades well after the moment of crossing.

nods, tries to memorize the letter-forms. “And how do you intend to bestow this knowledge, Scholar-Awoken?”

: “It’s Professor-Awoken, dear Student-Salme,” he chides, turning back to face her, and placing a boot upon the nearby desk. (It’s a bit… tall, considering his own stature, but he makes it work, somehow.) “These virtues are essential to connecting with the Samduran locale and locals- and once the heart learns to beat with the rise and fall of the tides, so will the hearts and minds of all combined knowledge and passion of each being within this plane.”

: “Knowing such, dare you continue to delve the self into their assembly?”

: “I would never say no to knowledge, Professor,” she says, resting her elbow on the desk and her chin on her hand. “Teach me what you will.”

: “And with that-“

: “Each journey begins with a single step- but it only continues with steps taken in successsion!” He strikes upon the crystal tablet, and behind him emblazons: I. CURIOSITY

: “This is an inquiry not made of the mere immediate. It is one that longs to be answered, to be pursued, to be lost within with each enraptured step into a deeper, darker canopy.”

: “To walk bravely along the untold path, you might say? Taking a step into the unknown? Something like that?”

: “And to do so willingly, and joyfully. Were one to be dragged, any revelations would surely leave unsightly scars, instead of prideful scars.”

: “Think not of each scholar to be completely wound-less.”

: “Each virtue will reveal that to be oh-so-painfully untrue.”

Tilts her head. “Isn’t the difference between an unsightly scar and a prideful one simply just a matter of perspective, Professor?”

: “To the uncurious mind, absolutely. But one who desires understanding, and reconciliation…” He leans back, tapping a finger onto the coral stylus, letting his arm hang.

: “A scar observed by the ignorant will only be but a wound. A scar observed by those listening to the tale- it can be prideful, it can be shameful, it can be anything but mundane.”

: “(Unless, I suppose, it was really just created in a careless clam incident.)”

: “(Which is its own kind of relevatory, I suppose. But!)”

: “(Clam accidents do happen, especially with all the otters about.)”

nods, and whispers. “(Woe befall the otter that misplaces its favorite cracking stone.)”

: “Yet, upon revelation of the truth, it is important to perform–“ He strikes against the crystal tablet, and II. RELINQUISHMENT replaces the previous virtue.

: “When the truth lies before you, its every ripple and curve and expression of naked desire… the virtuous mind releases from its past biases and judgments, and embraces that which is before them, wholly and fully.”

: “It would be wrong to not embrace such a ripple and curve and expression of naked desire wholly and fully, yes.”

: “So we’ve experienced,” he lightly titters into the back of his coral-wielding hand. “Some of these virtues will come easier than others.”

: “But easy as it is, it must not be ignored. We may mistake a moment for only being a moment, but it is only through many continuous moments that the new reality will take form, and we must discard the one formed prior.”

drums her nails on the desk in front of her. “Do you think realities are that iterative and easy to discard, Professor?”

tilts his head, tapping at the side of his jaw with the coral stylus, supported by an arm underneath the elbow.

: “Such expectations… we create them to facilitate our own actions. It’s the easiest, and simplest, way to do things.”

: “But the ‘easy and simple’ familiarity is not so easily discarded. That I can assert without proper reference, because I’m a vibes scholar.”

laughs for a moment before she catches the laughter back behind her lips and continues to listen.

: “But I would not do anyone a service by being a vibes-professor, and as such, we move to the third virtue-“ Strikes upon crystal, and III. LIGHTNESS takes its form behind him.

: “The immovable root… serves only the unchanging oak.”

: “Yet even certain rocks don’t find themselves so weighed down.”

: “No. Nor trees.”

nods. “Both of them move to those that connect with them. They have all been… very kind, very understanding to us, despite however much we’ve misplaced, or forgotten.”

: “It can’t be easy, for those who claim an unbroken consiousness. But they understand, and love, all the same.”

: “And for keeping their hearts and minds open- I am certain they have learned upon new angles, new considerations, they had not before.”

sighs slightly at this declaration. “Would that they ever knew how deeply we thank them.”

: “They’ll know,” she says with easy certainty. “We’ll tell them.”

picks up his smile, again. “And thus, so we have been fortunate to meet those of open mind and hears. Because the next, I don’t think we’ve encountered too often of-“ Some quick scribbles, and IV. EVENNESS appears.

: “Although… I can think of a few, or perhaps one individual, which could serve the inquiring mind well, to be so directly challenged.”

: “Who?”

leans in, and his tone is serious. “The one who’s set us all upon this path from our awakening.”

: “As in we should challenge him, or he should challenge us? And which one?”

: “Yes, and yes, and both of them.”

: “Does the thought tighten your calves, whiten your knuckles, sharpen the fang that feeds the desire to kill, because you must–“

: “Such is life. Such do we feel.”

: “Such that injustice could be righted.”

: “But to pursue evenness… is to pursue an unerring feeling of righteousness, to confirm it to be a justified feeling of righteousness.”

tilts her head and considers. “I will (rotate) that one, Sininen. The next?”

smirks, and the way his shoulders slump a bit reveals somewhat of his nature when he strikes, and the writing manifests as V. ARGUMENT

: “It is… not a popular position, that much I am aware of.”

: “And really, I don’t feel compelled to really dissuade anyone from it.”

: “It can very well be right and just, all things considered.”

: “But… I can’t help- nay, I am compelled to consider.’*

: “I pray only that others do not find this to be sympathy, but as an extension of understanding.”

: “I apologize, Professor, but I must interrupt. I’ve always been a poor student.”

stands, and pulls him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “You are so wise, and it’s worth making my position clear.”

twines her arms around his neck, and bites his earlobe before whispering. “There is nothing righteous or just about the harm I wish to inflict upon those who hurt us. I am not good in that way.” She closes her eyes, briefly, and they are close enough he can feel the flutter of her eyelashes against the skin of his neck. “And you are right, that whatever we choose to do, we must understand before we act.”

and then she spins away, rolling over the top of the desk like it’s barely there, just something in her way, and seats herself again, almost as if she never moved. “Consider the argument won, at least with me. Next?”

raises a hand to his neck, and his thumb barely caresses a soft spot that still tingles from interaction. His knuckles around the coral stylus whiten, the increased blood flow strengthening his grip.

: “From here, we strive towards completeness.” Strike, strike, strike- VI. EMPIRICISM.

: “Data assembled from the past only tells a story. Data that forms the future is one that shapes reality.”

: “Such directed grazes upon vulnerable patches of flesh…”

: “I can guarantee that a morning’s rise would encourage further exploitation.”

: “Oh, could you?” she says archly.

: “Strike again come the fading din, gather further data, and find out.”

: “Noted.”

narrows his eyes, but his smile is wide and playfully excited. With a flick of the coral-equipped wrist, VII. PARSIMONY appears, framing his small-but-looming figure.

: “Everything I’ve asked you to consider, up until now…”

: “It’s a lot, to be honest!”

: “So heavy it is to carry the weight of the universe, but there’s a trick to doing so.”

holds up his free-hand pointer finger. “Only carry what you need.”

: “Labors, conversations, plots, even NAMES…”

: “One can pare away most of these, and still find the throughline of truth.”

: “Hmmm. That sounds like someone failing to hold open the possibility of being wrong even in the conclusions one is most confident about,” she says, smiling sharply. She lied. She read the pamphlet.

eyes open wide, realizing that he is not in the den of a sedated cub, but actively being stalked by a predator, cloaked in the tall grass.

: “You want it to be true too badly. Parsimony. The only thing you need is–what, your heart and your will? But the truth is written in every inch of the past.”

: “It is not the future, but it is the truth.”

tilts his head back, exposing more of his fleshy, vulnerable neck, instead of angling his eyes towards disdain.“It would be so much easier. Far less painful. Upon the resolution of a hearty snack and refreshment of clear water, I could reflect on myself and not fully understand what actions I have performed.”

: “Among the virtues, suffering is not one of them.”

: “It exists only in the moments, but never as something one must secure in the mind or heart.”

flicks his wrist, and the board is cluttered with two virtues: VIII. HUMILITY and IX. PERFECTIONISM.

: “It still anchors me. Calls to me. And a dark infinity compels me to charge forward, not to flee.”

: “Is each step I take, the one where I lose footing?”

: “To be embraed fully by love and warmth, would I dissolve to my constituent elements?”

: “Maybe,” he answers, after a deliberate, seconds-long agonizing pause. “Maybe.”

: “But know this-“ And he squares his shoulders, cranes his head down, and the wide-eyed shock of surprise focuses deeply upon something more intangible than the body in front of him.

: “Each memory woven onto myself is not a casual stitch.”

: “I take each step into the unknown path with confidence, and if I were to ever be unsure that I would find purchase upon an obsidian road, it is the stitches that guide the pattern, securing me to thought-impossible tasks.”

: “Yes,” she says. She is teetering on a dangerous edge. Her voice is rough, and her eyes are locked on the desk. “Yes, but. In the interest of empiricism, and humility, and relinquishment. In the interest in all of them.” She looks up at him. “I believe in your strength of will. I believe in your heart. But stories do not always have happy endings, and we must, we must guard against that possible outcome in every way we can. That isn’t enshrining suffering. That is knowing it, like it is knowing loss, or death, or every other thing that walks beside us all.”

: “And if no one else will remember that, then I will.”

shakes his head, but it’s an endearing shake, not a dismissive or argumentative one. Emphasized more by his gentle smile, relaxed shoulders, and the boot is no longer on the desk.

: “Two truths existing at once.”

: “The halberd will cleave the torso in twain. And that the halberd is far less threatening, if its target is right inside the wielder’s arms.”

: “Yes,” she agrees firmly. “Though, Professor, I fear I’ve drawn us far off course. The tenth virtue is Precision, is it not?”

: “The honestly-inquiring mind could never draw the development of understanding from its path.”

: “That we will witness, in the next three virtues.” There’s a few simple strikes onto the crystal, and X. PRECISION appears.

: “It would be far more illuminating, were each actor fully realized in our minds.”

: “To completely know another… is such a thing possible? Is such a thing pleasurable?”

taps the coral-stylus into an open palm, considering the question, with a few silent, slow blinks.

: “And, I suppose… are either of those relevant, in the face of taking definitive action?”

: “Precision… I think, is a thing that can be learned through failure, most of all.”

: “How so?”

: “It isn’t effortless, but-“ He holds up a finger. “It requires active Relinquishment, and-“ holds up another finger. “-an unbruised amount of stamina and ego.”

: “An ugly, but wholly-realized answer, is held more highly than an answer of conjecture and bias- the burnt scars leaving previously-trodden roads along its narrative.”

: “Yet-“ He strikes the coral-stylus against the air, “-do not fool yourself into thinking treading upon caltrops is neccessary- again, suffering, not a virtue, and so on.”

: “I know there’s no virtue in suffering, Sinitöyhtönärhi. Trust me. I do know that.”

: “I do trust you, sweet sparrow. I also trust you when you ask for such.” The words skip about on his tongue, his eyes close to a focused squint.

: “Suffering has many uses, even if it isn’t a virtue. Pleasure, notably, isn’t a virtue either.” She moves quickly and snatches the stylus out of his hand, and slips in front of him to write, in a careful, achingly precise hand, XI. SCHOLARSHIP.

: “Two left. Tell me.”

: “Oh the virtues make clear that following the twelve virtues will bring enlightenment, but it doesn’t say anything about how following thirteen will cause ruin.” He winks.

: “(I did notice that as well).” She winks back.

: “Scholarship… ‘twoud be hubris writ large, to form everything from first principles.”

: “Finding prior research isn’t cheating or laziness, it’s efficient, and is the best way to witness change within one’s life.”

: “Although… how would you evaluate ‘dumb luck’ into the virtue of Scholarship?” ⁂

advances forward, and effortlessly slides his legs up onto the desk, crossing them under himself, now sitting at the edge closest to Salme.

: “The answer to so many of the universe’s mysteries falls into your lap and tells you the truth it knows about any animal, vegetable, or mineral you could summon from your mind.”

: “Did you earn it, from being in the right place, right time? Is that how sometimes, things just Happen? Through good timing?”

: “Does it matter if it’s earned?”

: “It must, on some level. Else there wouldn’t be so much ink around the pages of Scholarship.”

: “But if the sudden chance is all one needs to have the veil fall from their eyes, which leads to the complete upheval of everything everyone once knew…”

: “Then… providence, too, could be a co-author.”

: “What, precisely, are you asking, Sininen?” shes says, peering up at him.

: “I’m saying that sometimes… when you get everything you ever wanted… you live happily ever after.” He smiles, gently.

blinks, and blushes, looking away and swallowing hard. “Oh,” she says.

: “The answer is the same. ‘Earning’ it doesn’t matter. There is either something you understand well enough to use, or something you don’t. If that’s ‘earning’ then there’s your answer. If it isn’t then it doesn’t matter. And if it’s ‘dumb luck’ then you take it.”

looks up at him, eyes sparking. “If the universe gives you a chance, if there’s a moment where what you want is in grasp, then you reach out with both hands and you take it. You steal it, if you have to. Cheat, lie, cajole. There’s too much suffering in the world not to, and suffering is not a virtue.”

reaches out, and takes Salme’s hands into his own.

: “The final virtue is Counsel.”

: “I’m pretty confident in my assertion of the previous eleven.”

: “And… sure, maybe I should be seeking those out who would disagree with my interpretations or readings of them.”

: “(Well, I’d like to think I didn’t prove myself completely incapable)”

: “But… I didn’t claim to be a perfectly good professor, either.”

: “And yes, dear Student-Salme, you have proven yourself to be encouraging and surprising and considerate, enduring this wearying lecture.”

: “(Not wearying).”

smirks, and there’s a lil’ satisifed snort with it too.

: “So it is because of this I ask- is there anything you see, that I’ve elided? Discarded in the name of unneccssary confidence and bravado? (I mean, I’m pretty sure I got it all squared away.)”

: “Not in so many words, but … Relinquishment. ‘That which can be destroyed by the truth, should be.’ Phrased like that, what do you think of it?”

taps his thumbs along her knuckles, turning over the question in his head. He replies, after a few moments- “I think the writer has an axe to grind.”

: “Or at least, an axe that really wants to make sure that people are paying attention.”

laughs. “It made me think, actually, of [Superannihilate]. That Rite, and how it … feels?”

: “Oh?” his voice upturns, looking intently at her.

: “It’s not the same, but … every since I learned how to look …” She looks beyond the Awoken, like she’s looking through something, and then says, “‘Destruction — unlike creation, unlike truth — is always pure, and always simple.’ I think. A truth that can destroy, as an act of destruction … they’re talked about differently here but …” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what to make of it, so I guess I’m seeking Counsel.”

: “Hmm…”

: “I think… destruction is always noticable. That makes it simpler to perceive that it happened- ‘oh, my house blew up’ is easier to notice than ‘my house got a new rug.’ “

: “And I’m not sure ‘pure’ is a good descriptor for it, either.”

: “Does the hunger-sparking honey lead those to a ‘pure’ form of destruction?”

shakes his head.

: “Destruction is an unignorable change. It may be denied, it may be overlooked, it may be downplayed, but it always changes things. If it didn’t it’d just be called ‘bruising’ or ‘flighty’ or ‘having a phase.’”

: “No. I think the information–the stories–that we find in the Rites are obviously … stories. Observations. They aren’t necessarily true. I just found the resonance … strange. And Samudra itself could be undone so easily with … so many truths. As much as the virtues are virtues, the entire world runs on. Not a lie, really, but obfuscation. Looking away.”

tilts his head one way, then that.

: “I think they don’t find that staring directly at the sun will solve the problem.”

: “And, I was under the impression that it wasn’t truth that threatened islands, but the unchecked spiraling of emotion and thought.”

: “(I’d think it be more embarassing to Samudrans to bring about a thought-storm through a misunderstanding, over a relevatory truth. But maybe that’s just my reading of it.”

: “Well. There’s … something I’m not sure you know that serves as an example, I think. And I haven’t quite been able to square it.” She smiles at him. “How’s your eidesis, Awa?”

sits up straight. “Infalliable, unshakable. Practically perfect in every way.”

: “The Polite Visitor. I know I alluded to it briefly, but … there’s a story there. Would you like to hear it?”

: “Yes, absolutely.” He slides down off of the desk, and moves to sit in the bench next to her.

: “When I saw it, on the Glass Ship, I simply saw it, I think. An enormous unblinking eye with iridescent streamers flowing after it. Strange, certainly, but nothing fearful. And when Archie transformed it, I thought … what must it be like, to be something so feared and misunderstood? Aurelius would say I’m projecting, and I probably am, but I couldn’t leave it alone.” ⁂

: “So I went down to the beach–or I climbed over the rocks until I could fall into the ocean, and I cast out a root-net of feeling and connection, a way of saying hello. And it answered me, first with its own voice–mournful, always mournful–and then thirteen noöplankton came with a message from It, and they told me something I needed to hear.” ⁂

: “That was the night I didn’t share your bed. I was so tired from the ocean, and Aurelius carried me back to his room and I–simply slept. And when I woke up in the morning, Archie and Caion had asked us to meet them, to explain the liminal library, and while we were there, we found out that the noöplankton are ancient, just as the Polite Visitors are, and I told them about my swim and …” ⁂

: “Caion laughed. Because he, apparently, had always seen them for what they are–the Visitors, that is–and that is not a thing that happens. And I had seen them for what they are too, and two people agreeing on what they look like is–it doesn’t happen. And then Wolf shared that he had been able to banish whatever fear he had originally seen, and he had seen the same thing. And Caion said he had always felt insane, or broken, for being able to see them for what they were.” ⁂

: “And when we heard the song, the last line … ‘For naming is knowing, and knowing is drawing-near, / and drawing-near is danger’. How can you ever know anything here when you’re caught in that cycle? I know the danger of thoughts is very real here. I know that. I don’t fault anyone for that. But it seems like Samudra is … caught in a Rite against itself, almost. I don’t know.” 🙧

: “So… what are they?”

: “I know what they look like, but not what they are. The eye, the iridescent streamers, older than … the oldest thing on this world. I heard the sound of knucklebones rolling and the sound of windchimes. I can share the memory, if you’d like? I’m not sure how instructive it is.”

crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and his upper body gently begins to roll about in place. “Hmmmmmmmmmm….”

: “There’s a looooooooooot… going on hereeeeeeeeee… “

stops the roll, tilting his head to look at Salme, opening his eyes. “Let’s connect some threads, yes?”

: “Certainly, Professor,” she says, smiling up at him.

: “Yourself and Wolf and Caion see Polite Visitors for what they are. So, when I ask, ‘what are they,’ I want to know- what shared understanding do you three have of them?”

: “It’s easier to say what they aren’t. To practice Parsimony, and pare back the noise surrounding them. They are not monstrous. They do appear monstrous, though. They are very old. There is something about them that involves possibility.”

draws small circles on the knee of his that is closest to her. “Would you tell me what you saw?”

nods. “Of course! Because- I saw nothingness- the representation of nothingness. Insomuch as one can describe nothingness- it was a hole.”

: “It was framed by thousands of violet-hued hands, reaching away from nothing.”

: “And it very, very much feels like staring into an impossibly large space, and wanting to know- will I echo? Does it have an end?”

waves a hand, turning it into a fist and shaking it slightly. “I was prepating to explore such, and then… big googly-eyed maw eel!!”

keeps tracing circles on his knee, but her touch is firmer. “And were the hands reaching toward you?” she doesn’t mean to ask.

doesn’t know that, so he answers. “Sure were.”

fists her hand in the material of his pant. She isn’t looking at him, but at the embroidered words chasing up and down his arms. “It seems that,” she says slowly, carefully, “every thing in the world is trying to draw you towards it. The sun, the void, these hands.” She takes a slow, careful breath and then says, “but you’re mine.”

moves a hand to rest on top of hers, his fingers gently stroking along her taut knuckles, sliding his palm smoothly down the back of her hand, and wrist- his fingers follow the lead, flowing across her tense grip.

: “Oho. Are you sure it’s me who goes about claiming conquests?” he teases.

: “No,” she grinds out. “You aren’t a conquest and you know that, but obviously I’m. Like this. I try not to be but.” She shrugs artlessly, and there’s some embarrassment there, but not as it usually manifests, blushing and anxious. There’s an emptiness to her gaze, an inward-turning. She can’t quite meet his eyes. “Salme the Sword-Saint can selflessly serve and step from the stage when her time has passed. I’ve never been any good at that sort of thing. That’s why I’ve never allowed myself it.”

: “I mean…” he settles his grip around her wrist, thumb and pointer finger still gently caressing the back of her hand, but there’s no more wandering touch, otherwise. “It’s not really a thing one has to be good at,” he adds with a conspiritorial smile.

: “It simply can be, and you can be loved while also being that.”

: “Can I?” She looks up at him. “You seem to relish the possibility of throwing yourself into the void, or towards the stars. And why wouldn’t you? When you’re you who would be content on the ground?”

closes her eyes. “I am trying to trust. I am trying to build. And I think … the Polite Visitors tell us something about possibility, in whatever register they speak in. Whether it’s a possibility that hurts as it has always hurt, or might hurt but might not, or promises not to hurt when it has always hurt before.”

: “It just unnerves me that your possibility is the middle one, and that possibility, all of your possibilities, seems to involve you walking away from me.”

wrinkles his lips, shuts an eye such that it scrunches deep, flinching from an unseen flash.

: “I think this is a test of your eidesis, turbulent sparrow.”

: “My eidesis is poor. It barely hangs together. But it is not breaking. Why did you flinch?”

: “You told me about a vision you had of me, one which… is pretty cruel!”

: “Do I really appear so heartless…?”

: “Sinitöyhtönärhi, you are all heart. Don’t you see why that terrifies me?”

: “I do! But. It doesn’t feel like you think my heart could be wielded in a way to love, rather than hurt.”

: “Virtue 11, scholarship, which- thank the constellations that this was already set beforehand– but you should trust me following my heart to bring about joy, over misery and loneliness.”

: “Example!” He suddenly stands.

: “Dear Student-Salme, I am grasping the hands surrounding depthful eternity. I shall be away.” There’s a twist and a twirl, and somehow he has escaped her grasp. He moves to the large crystal pane, sneaking an arm behind it only to have it mime coming out of frame and grabbing him by the collar, and he follows as it ‘drags’ him behind the screen. There’s a few steps. A hint of liminal gnosis.

’s feet move towards the other end of the crystal pane, and he pops his head out from the side. “Student-Salme! I have returned! The trip was fortuitious and light, and I have come bearing treasures!” He walks from behind the pane, and in his hands is a small plate- two forks, and one decently-sized slice of cloudberry cheesecake.

takes light, quick steps to sit next to Salme once more.

: “It’s good to see you back, Professor-Awoken,” she says, and she’s a little … tired, but there’s a laugh threaded through her voice.

: “I suppose… I’m starting to understand more, of you and Aury’s cling to memories and their importance. But it still doesn’t account for the one that will rediscover and share love, even without remembering that he once did.” He winks.

: “You may never understand why someone loves you. But so long as we are ourselves, our essence… I’d put that as ‘happening’ more often than not.”

: “It’s not about love. If it was just about love, just about care, just about want and belief and will, then Almachadta would have never burned! Not once!” she isn’t quite yelling, but her voice is raised, and she recognizes she’s teetering on a dangerous edge. She recognizes it, but she doesn’t stop. “If it was about deserving or earning I wouldn’t have ever been alone in the first place! I know you love me. I know Aurelius loves me. I know everyone in our … little clan, as it’s forming, I know they all love me. And I know, at the end of all things, love saves precisely no one.”

shakes her head. “We’re not going to agree on this. This isn’t Counsel, or even Argument. It’s just hurting you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

: “Mmm… yeah, let’s start sinking these thoughts.”

: “Here.”

takes one of the forks, slices of a bit of the cheesecake, and guides it to her mouth.

tries to blink away the tears in her eyes–frustration, self-loathing, all of it. She takes the bite of cheesecake and she chews carefully, intentionally, noting the flavors. “Food here is … very sweet,” she says, a little blankly.

: “I cheated, it’s from the Courtyard Sink Inn. I’ll have to drop a few shavings of payment when we return, but I think they’ll be altogether happy to let it slide. I’m just that charming.”

: “Turns out liminal gnosis doesn’t spoil the flavor- who knew?”

swipes a forkful for himself, chewing, stopping halfway to enjoy the flavor as it settles in his mouth, and chewing some more, before swallowing.

blinks at him, and stares as the words sink in(n) (Light, that fucking pun) and then she laughs. “You. You actually used liminal gnosis to … what? Reach through time and space and bring us cheesecake from Almachadta?”

: “Well… yeah. It’s not like I had to cook it, I just sort of envisioned ‘hey, maybe there’s a piece just sitting on a plate somewheree’, ‘hey maybe it has two forks.’ The possibility was there, and I reached out, and– a miracle! It was so, and I grasped at it.”

: “It’s good to be Awoken.”

does start crying then, but it’s mostly because she’s laughing so hard she can’t help it. “You. Impossible, wonderful miracle of a person.” She scrubs at her eyes. “That’s–amazing. Thank you.”

rubs foreheads with her, rocking back and forth with the ebb of her laughs and breaths.

: “Come. Let’s enjoy this cake, together. I… have an idea, regarding the Polite Visitors, and I’m wondering if Caion, or anyone else, would be sympathetic to my theories.”

: “But!”

: “That’s later. That’s not now, not here.”

: “For here, it is us, honing the inquiring minds, comforting the burning heart, feeding the sweet-gorging mouth.”

: “I think Caion would love hearing your theories, and I’d love to have him get to know you better. He … immediately felt like a friend, to me, when I met him. I think he’d adore you.”

takes a bite of cheesecake. “Perhaps a bit too much, considering his attraction to undimmed, brilliant men. But,” she sighs theatrically, “I can be selfless, if I must.”

takes another bite of cheesecake, and swallows. “I’m sorry for being cruel, Sininen. And for pressing where you don’t wish to be pressed. And–I am seeking Counsel here–do you think … I have called up a thoughtstorm? Should we tell someone? Is this a thing that can be undone once set in motion?”

: “It’s probably fine. The important bit, not unlike meeting a Polite Visitor, is that you banish it one way or another, yes?”

: “I don’t have a lot of empirical evidence stating so, but… it sounds pretty good, yeah?”

: “You’re just quoting the,” she waves her hand in the direction of the ceiling. “Impolite Observer.”

presses her forehead more heavily against his, and offers him a bite of cheesecake from her own fork. “But yeah, it does sound pretty good.”

: “Eleven, scholarship. It’s easy to be me if you ride successive high tides!”

accepts her offering of cheesecake, pursuing the fork even as she might pull it back, and even when he lets go, he follows it, only to nuzzle into the crook of her neck.

brings up her hand, to bury it in his thick, beautiful hair. “And can I still be loved while also being cruel and fearful as well as selfish?” she asks softly

’s mind is still, and the feelings which had recently crashed to the surface are deep currents now, but she still asks.

moves a hand to caress the other side of her neck. “Perfectionism is for academics.”

: “But if you feel that you must be corrected for being such…”

’s hand reaches up to grab the base of a braid, a bun, the hair back there- grasping, guiding her head back.

: “Then, the lesson will continue, elsewhere.”

tilts her head back, letting her eyes go heavy-lidded. “Two. Relinquishment. I will never be a scholar instead of a student if you don’t use your truth to correct my misconceptions, Professor.”

arm bursts with a font of burning gnosis, and he flicks it to the side- sending the large crystal pane- streaked with virtues and concepts and spoilers- to brace against the entryway door.