Scene Archives

sits upright in his bed, looking at the wall. Black stone, or something quite like stone, is all that meets his eyes, and yet it feels hollow to him now somehow. Like papier-mache. Like if he punched it hard enough it would fall apart into so many words and letters. He hated this feeling, this emptiness that overtook him from the moment Jorule’s words had left his lips. “Just you and me now, eh, NIP?” He comes to standing and starts pacing around the room aimlessly, simultaneously agitated and sluggish.

listens to his words echo in the silence. He doesn’t want to face everyone again. Not yet. Not now. Not after last time. And yet, the silence feels deafening. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets the dark of the ziggurat and the absolute silence of sound, the perfect stillness of the air, overtake him, only for a moment. And yet, he cannot quiet the sound of his breathing, the defiant heart beating in his chest. Now is not the time for silence, he decides, and leaves the ziggurat in search of companions.

goes in search of Wolf and Salme. Song and story. They’re the ones he needs right now.

, for his part, is seated around the fire with Salme, with a bowl of something stew-like that, while it can’t hold a candle to the burger feast on Suoja, is nevertheless warm and hearty, smelling of the kind of sharp spices that Samudra made heavy use of.

is also enjoying a similar bowl of stew. She keeps looking at Wolf, like she wants to ask if he’s okay, but like she’s trying really hard to give him space. She is trying so hard. She is giving so much space.

has a kind of amused expression on his face–he looks tired and somewhat worn, but not the sagging heartbreak from some hours earlier. He keeps looking up at Salme, checking to see if he’s still being ‘given space,’ then goes back to companionable silence.

approaches quietly. Timid, embarrassed, anxious, exhausted, empty, and yet, still here, and still with a belly that demands feeding. “Um. Hi, you two. Can I join you?”

looks up at Archie’s voice, and though it takes a second to flicker on, smiles welcomingly.

: “Archie!” She stands up, relieved to see him, so relieved that she almost drops her stew bowl, and then realizes she looks ridiculous, so sits back down, and waves at him, like he isn’t right in front of her. “Please come join us!”

sits between them and pokes through the FU. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. Honestly, I kind of wondered if I could just decide to stop being hungry. Clearly it doesn’t work that way, though.” It’s only when he attempts a smile that you see how deep the bags under his eyes have gotten in so short a time, how puffy and red his eyelids still are, the shadows of tear stains sunken into his fur. “Weird question - Salme, do you have anything extra spicy? I’m in the mood for it.”

blinks, and then nods. “I have some very weird pepper jam from the Sauce Labs in the Academy. I stocked up on extra since Luĉja loves spicy things. Hold on.” She riffles through the FU, pulling out a thick loaf of bread—also a recent Academy invention in the quest for fluff bread—cutting it, layering a thick slab of mild cheese and then a heavy helping of pepper jam on it, and offering it to Archie.

eyes Archie quietly, noting the unspoken physical signs, but keeping his counsel for now. One arm brushes up against one of his belt pouches, almost unconsciously.

takes it with a grateful nod and shoves as much of it in his mouth at once as possible, chomping down. The regret in his face is immediate and obvious. His eyes begin to well up with tears again and he feels the tips of his ears get warm as he struggles to chew his bite. And yet, somehow, once he finally manages to swallow, he feels better somehow. Not just for having some food in him, though that undoubtedly couldn’t hurt, but because there’s something comforting and reassuring in the regret. This, at least, was as it had always been, and the adrenaline coursing through him, the feeling piercing through the emptiness, and a sudden realization of how he must have looked a moment ago make him laugh. Not the hollow, howling, terrible laughter of a few hours prior, but a giggle. Tiny, squeaky, inescapable, unquellable.

’s mouth twitches a bit as she tries not to laugh at his pain, but she gives up pretty quickly and laughs too.

blinks a little, then chuckles softly, his body language becoming noticeably more relaxed. “You did ask for extra spicy,” he says, with gentle good humor.

tries to stop laughing long enough to pretend to be offended and fails miserably. Unwilling to give up the bit, he manages to choke out between giggles, “I got what I asked for and I’d do it again.”

finally settles a little and lets out a deep breath, pleading with his lungs for mercy. “And now I’m going to have to wipe my eyes again. Great.” He smiles a little and grabs a napkin. “That was… refreshing, in ways I think I needed. Thanks for that.”

: “You’re welcome. Though if you want food that doesn’t also burn your throat, we do have that.”

smiles slightly, digging back into his (much less spicy) stew. “I was told that the spices were enjoyed for their cooling effect…”

blinks. “Oh. You’re back too.” She waves up at the sky. “Welcome back.”

looks up at NIP. “Hey! Not you too!” He sinks back down in his chair and lets his shoulders slump in a show of mock dejection before sprucing back up and grabbing a much more reasonable bowl of stew.

: “So. Uh. I don’t really know where to begin, but I know it begins with you two, and I’m glad NIP is here too. Honestly, I’m still not sure how to feel about… everything. But I’m here, and you’re here, and this bowl of stew is still really tasty.”

pokes him in the side. “If you knew how to feel about everything after … what, less than a day? Then we’d know there truly was something wrong about you. I’m glad you’re here too.”

rumbles a little, deep in his throat. “I admit to having struggled with it myself.” He gives a brief glance up at the ceiling and a wry smile.

raises her eyebrows at that and files that nugget away for later.

looks at all three of them with gratitude. “I appreciate it. I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it all, I guess. And about my work on Samudra. It feels like… the other Kushtaka, you saw them, they deal in story and song in some ways like you, Wolf. A smart tactic, in a world wont to change along with the beliefs, thoughts, and fears of its people. Part of what drew me to the Academy was the sense that there was something there that was immutable somehow. Things that remain true even if you don’t believe them. I thought I would find those things buried in the Septentrione ice. And yet, now I learn that it’s been all song and story all the way down after all, and it seems that may be an immutable fact. Maybe I was foolish for thinking it could be otherwise. Maybe history and the stories we tell about history, or science and the stories we tell about the world around us, are inextricable.”

tilts her head, thinking. She looks to Wolf as an invitation, as a … plea, to check her reasoning if she strays too far afield, and then says, “Do stories and song and … the immutable truth really feel so different to you?” She doesn’t say it with judgment, just with curiosity, like she’s feeling out an idea.

nods at Salme, encouragingly, setting aside his mostly-empty bowl to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything–yet–but he looks like there’s thoughts forming behind his wolf-green eyes.

takes a moment to consider. “Stories and song often are paths to the truth, or contain truths. I sought out the two of you especially because of that. Wolf, I’ve seen you make meaning of song, even ones I found myself deaf to for all but the briefest of moments. And Salme, your mask contains a collection of experiences, expressed as stories, accessed through a form of communing I still am only able to grab at the edges of. But on Samudra, stories and songs are often tools more than truths. We tell them to express things too frightening to say, or to scare pups into finishing their food or not staying up past their bed time. The world I know is not used to the idea of songs and stories containing whole, immutable truth. Not even our historical texts, believe me. You wouldn’t believe how many times in my translation I’ve gotten halfway through only to realize that it was one person bickering with another about some copper tablets.”

smiles, a little. “Who says that truths are necessarily immutable? Once, we would have accepted it as truth that there was just a singular world–our own. Is not the willingness to admit that the world may be broader and stranger than that which you now know…a Virtue?” Wolf may be smiling, but his eyes are, well…a wolf’s, watching and sharp. “Facts only get you so far, my friend. Meaning…is, to me, as much a story that we tell ourselves, as it is a truth immutable.”

: “Is it finding Truth that is most important? Or the search for it?”

shakes his head. “But I would say that a willingness to admit the world may be broader and stranger is a willingness to accept new evidence, to revise your model, to expand your scope. It’s not a refutation of the idea that truth exists, just that we were wrong about what that truth was. In a world where everything is ever-changing, you hang on to what you can with all that you have. The idea of there being such a thing as Truth was one of those things for me. I’ve dedicated my life to searching for it. I’d like to think that I’d be happy when I found it, but my confidence in that has been rattled lately.”

: “I think, to approach it from the opposite direction …” she looks up at the sky. “I’ve lived with a Truth my entire adult life. Almachadta always destroys itself, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The Mask is certain of that—anything I could do to change it has already been tried. Learning the Truth That Burns—and I learned it early, I … er, essentially forced Aurelius into telling me, it’s very embarrassing for me actually—presented a kind of freedom. If it is a story, that means I might change it. But just might. Simply knowing it’s a story changes nothing.” She laughs. “Trust me, if you’ve ever tried to get your version of a narrative to win out over other competing versions, you’d know things aren’t quite that mutable.”

looks at her gently. “Well, Awoken at least seems pretty convinced that we’re the heroes, the main characters, the saviors. It would make for a pretty good story. I just hope that’s the one we get to make together. I don’t know. Even just thinking about it gives me this weird floaty feeling.” He stands up from the table and stretches, cleaning his empty stew bowl.

: “We’ve already been making it,” Wolf says, softly. “What is a journey but a story you tell about the things that happened to you along the way? What is it but taking…’we walked here, we went there,’ and giving it…life, and meaning? Without its story, a journey is just…a series of events.”

looks up. “Well, you’re at least right that I’m going to tell you it’s not an interruption at all. You’re here with us, you’re as much a part of this as we are. And I’m glad to have you here, and that you’re starting to open up more and let your opinions be known.” He sets his clean, empty bowl down with the others and walks back to the table. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think the two are at odds with each other. Like I said, most stories I’ve encountered have been vessels for truth, even if they haven’t been entirely true, themselves. But I feel like I’m talking in circles again. So, how’s this: I did think of one other thing the two of you might be able to help me with, if you’re feeling up to it.” He looks up at NIP. “I’d, uh, invite you to help too, but I’m not sure if you can do this part.”

lifts his head, tilting it to the side curiously.

opens her mouth to keep arguing, and then doesn’t keep arguing, and mirrors Wolf’s curious headtilt instead. “(For what it’s worth),” she can’t help muttering, “(I agree with NIP).”

meets their gaze. “Still good for a friendly bout of sparring? I just need to empty my head for a bit and let the rhythm take me. I know we could just as easily dance it out, but we’re getting ready to go to Beast as it is, so… humor me? Please?”

lets his eyebrows lift a fraction of an inch…then smiles, slow and just a little wolfishly. “I could be convinced.”

: “Do you want to fight both of us at once, or just one? Because Wolf will be a better challenge than I will.”

: “Against my better judgment, I did invite both of you, so consider the invitation open. If you decide you don’t feel like sparring against me, how would you feel about joining my side of the Rite? You wouldn’t have to do anything, you can just observe and pass your turns if you like. But my style is intended for teamwork. I doubt I’d be able to give Wolf a sporting challenge on my own.”

gives Salme an arch look, eyebrows up, a small smile playing on his lips, as if to say…’choose wisely.’

: “Hmm. Well, Wolf did try to sabotage my race on Tulinsuojat … but on the other hand … hmm.” She taps a finger against her lips. “Are we playing with stakes?”

: “I was sabotaging everyone, let’s be fair here. And it ended up giving the victor a very nice crown.”

thinks for a moment. “I saw that we have seven tofu burgers left and six of us. So, what if we set the last burger as the stake? Not nothing, to be sure, but also nothing especially world-shattering.”

smirks. “Agreeable. Though that still doesn’t solve the problem of the sides…”

: “I mean … I apologize, Archie, but,” she stands up and moves to stand next to Wolf. “I must choose to fight by my heart-brother’s side. It could not ever be otherwise.”

nods. “In that case, I’ll do my best. Here goes!”

: “Oh shit. If we’ve got a sparring circle we really probably should use it.”

shrugs. “I’m not picky.”

: “No arguments there. Besides, you’re the first two people I’ve spoken with since I left the group a while ago. Nothing that couldn’t be explained away, but I feel like if the others saw us fighting out in the open they might get the wrong idea.”

pauses, blinks, nods. “…an excellent point.”

laughs. “I’m just imagining Luĉja grabbing all of us in a very large hug,” she says, before heading into the Ziggurat, towards the sparring circle.

steps into the circle and readies himself.

takes a step into the circle. “Any other details you’ve ꙮbserved that you’d like to point out?”

steps into the circle, blades flashing into his hands–something slightly different about his stance this time, in a way that’s hard to pin down.

glances over at Salme, with a wolf-toothed smile. “May I?”

: “Be my guest,” she says with an elegant bow.

reaches out a hand and beckons them forward, beginning to dodge and weave. His purple eye gleam is back, more out of force of habit than any real attempt at intimidation.

glances cautiously at the Presence, then shrugs. “I was going to let Archie go first, because of the numbers, but…”

: “Well, before that,” she says, frowning, and then tosses a small dart of burning gnosis through Archie. “You always forget.”

shudders a little at the strange feeling of fighting his friends, even if it’s only a spar, even if it was his idea. He takes a slightly pained inhale as he weaves faster still.

lunges forward in a flash and retreats just as quickly, testing their reflexes, assessing how to continue. He turns to the Presence beside him. “I assume this was your doing? Thanks, NIP. Now, could you please do me a favor and hold these for me?”

flicks another cautious glance at the Presence, then bares one fang in a cool smile–and lifts a hand and Pellucid gnosis flashes from his fingers, lashing across Archie as lightning!

considers, for a moment. She’s usually slow and methodical during the Rite, but here she courses with restless energy, shifting from foot to foot. She dances into Archie’s range, quick, and punches him in the face, before dancing back out of range.

steps back and focuses, drawing flickers of burning gnosis up around her.

does his best to maintain his focus through the pain, eyes welling up involuntarily as the blow hits his nose.

taps into the anger he felt earlier, feeling like everything was hollow, and begins to summon his own burning gnosis in reply.

huffs in surprise as the Presence casts a spell, fangs baring. “Well then!” He weaves his blades around each other, tar-like Tenebrous gnosis forming between them like sludge–and chucks the stuff at Archie, which soaks into his robes and stings nastily. Some of it sticks to his own hands and arms, but he doesn’t seem to give much of a damn.

: “Hmmm.” She looks between Wolf and Archie thoughtfully, and then lets out a surprised bark of a laugh.

grins wildly. She has yet to take out her swords at all, merely gathers tenebrous gnosis around her body. She laughs and laughs and laughs, dancing toward Archie, turning a one-handed cartwheel into a swift, tenebrous-infused kick to his shoulder, and then coming up in an equally tenebrous punch to his gut.

looks rather taken aback, blinking rapidly. “Archie…? I think you miscalculated which one of us was most dangerous.”

Not spoken, but clearly heard: ‘And so did I.’

turns at grins at Wolf. “I told you I was fire.”

: “Yes’m.” Almost meekly.

can’t respond, at first. He lays on the ground, winded from the blow to the gut, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. This pain, as unpleasant as it is, is real to him. And so are the feelings he can’t deny, can’t dismiss or hand wave away as he hears Wolf and Salme - his friends - discuss the sparring match. After a long moment, he manages to pull himself up to his feet. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that tofu burger is all yours. Oof.”

reaches out and helps Archie at least some of the way up, brushing off some of the gunk from his coat. “Apologies for that, by the way. It should wash out. I think.”

reaches down and helps Archie the rest of the way up. “That was … hm?”

rocks back on his heels, blinking rapidly, breath catching in his throat. “Hrrrf…”

clenches her hand around Archie, and immediately throws out a—not a tether, a dart, something like a harpoon, aiming for the presence, for the memory, for anything at all.

It would take a miracle.

smiles. “But miracles happen every day, wouldn’t you agree?” He brushes himself off, gently letting go of Salme’s supportive hand. “I’m not sure if this is going to sound stupid or if I’ll sound stupid for not having thought of it before. But you all were right. I’m as real as my pain, as real as my hunger, as real as my friends. I still open my eyes and see the same world, at least for now, before we get to Beast. You’re still here. I’m still here. I would be a poor seeker of truth if I didn’t find out as much as I can about these - angels, or whatever Jorule called them? - as possible. But that world is in many ways abstracted from the one I’m experiencing right now. With you all, and Solei, and Synthesis, and Tasna, and…” He lets out half of a choking sob, hiding it behind a clench to his nose. “And Caion. First Principles, I love him so much. Thank you for keeping his scarf safe for me. I’m ready to take it back now, I think. I want to talk to him again.” ⁂

: “And if nothing else, if we’re living in a story right now, whoever’s telling it wants me to have companionship. Friends, love. Even if it really is as simple as that we’re living in a story of someone’s creation, I can’t help but feel like they want us to be happy at story’s end. And that’s something I can hold out hope for.”

🙧

takes the scarf from his belt pouch and winds it gently around Archie’s neck, long fingers tucking it back into its usual spot. “That is what friends are for, are they not? We hold hope for each other, when we cannot hold it ourselves.” He glances off to the side, suddenly looking rather chagrined. “And, ah…if it’s a bit damp, pay it no mind.”

: “It’s good to be back. I can’t promise nothing like that will ever happen again. But I know that you - all of you - will be here with me, ready to knock some sense into me all over again.”

nuzzles his face into the scarf. Looking back to them with misty eyes, he suddenly flings his arms around them both with such intensity an onlooker might wonder if the Rite hadn’t concluded after all. He pulls them in close, squeezing tight.

squeezes back, giving as good as she gets, and unspools a bit of flourishing gnosis between them, letting a vining thread reach from her into Archie and sending a bit of herself, a bit of Almachadta, a bit of another truth, along into him, wrapping Wolf into it with them. “Announcing your place in the family of things,” she says, and then Archie, too, knows something he did not know before.

hugs his friends tightly, smiling…well, paternally. He is the Dad of the group, after all.

: “Family. I like the sound of that.”