ꙮ There’s a marketplace in Ripple, close-ish to the docks (everything in Ripple is close-ish to the docks; the entire settlement sprawled out around the natural harbor, over centuries.) There’s marketplaces in every Kushtaka town, but Ripple’s is the loudest and the cheerful-est by far - there’s goods sold here from all corners of the Sea, and some with the Academy’s imprimatur besides.
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- Aurelius
- The Awoken
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#saint
#caion
wanders through the stalls. She’s looking for something, though she couldn’t say what. Or. She knows what she’s looking for but she can’t quite admit it to herself. Some kind of fabric, iridescent and flowing, unlike anything she knows on Almachadta, but very like something she’s been thinking about recently.
ꙮ There is not quite the variety of fabric and dye you’re used to from back home, but there’s stuff here you know they’d climb the Tangle for - fabric made, apparently, with Academy gnosis-work, impossibly soft and light and strong all at once, an entire array of scarves that look like you’d be wearing clouds.
finds herself drawn towards the scarves that look like clouds, the delicacy of them. She almost asks the vendor if they use such fabric in clothing here, but she looses her nerve and moves back towards the center of the market. She should go back and take a nap or … something.
ꙮ And then you hear a,
: “Hallo!” Caion waves, noticing Salme, from some distance away. He’s been walking rather -determinedly- from, roughly, the direction of the work-cellar.
oh thank the light. Salme straightens and smiles, giving Caion an easy wave. “Hello!” She notes the direction from which he came. “Just had a rendezvouz?” raising her eyebrows. And to think Aurelius was chastising her for using the Liminal Library inappropriately.
does something with his eyebrows at the word ‘rendezvous’. “I… Wolf had some things he felt it was better to say within the Sealed Space. It was probably the right call. Which… I have a question for you. Several, really. But first, are you looking for anything? The market can be… quite a lot.”
mimics his eyebrow movements with her own. “Wolf seems to have that effect on people, if it helps. You aren’t alone.” And then she sighs. “I’m happy to answer questions. I was looking for something but I realized I don’t … even know how you pay for things here. So it’s easy enough to drop.”
: “Apparently half of Whisker-Clan is inadvertently or otherwise learning your dance steps after last night, so I’d say so.” He looks… amused. And then looks up, and his tail would definitely thud, if he had one, which, again, he does not! But there’s a certain vibe here! “There’s… oh, boatscum, we didn’t give you any whiteshells, did we. The Kushtaka maintain a consistent medium of exchange across the Sea, because otherwise you’ll get seventeen different competing standards and currencies across different Academic branch-offs at different times and it’s a huge mess, I’ll- if there’s anything you want today I’ll cover it, and I’ll make sure Aunt Silver-Cloak makes some resources available later on, it completely slipped my mind.”
: “It sounds like the Kushtaka keep Samudra functional,” she says a little wryly. “But at any rate, I don’t think I’d find what I’m looking for right now, and if I did I suspect it would be expensive.” She looks at him. “So, your questions? We can always go back to the library?”
smiles. “It’s a collaboration, really, between the Kushtaka clans and the Academy. Neither of them would… really work well without the other, even if they don’t -always- see eye to eye.” He starts walking with Salme, then, away from the marketplace, back towards the work-cellar, then, amiably. “That’s… what I do, when I’m not camping out in a bizarre geode for weeks in desperate hope.” He laughs. “Not -many- people who have as much of a handle on Clan life and Academy life as I do.”
matches his pace. “That seems–“ she opens her mouth, and then shuts it. And then says, “is it dangerous for me to comment that it seems … exhausting?”
shakes his head, smiling a little. “If it weren’t exhausting, there wouldn’t be an Academic position for it. Although -most- of the time it’s just… making sure that everyone’s on the same page about shipments and people collaborating on building the Glass Ships know what the Irós are looking for this season and things like that.”
hums agreeably as they make their way down to the cellar. “And yet you set aside everything to wait for Archie to come back to you.”
: “Mmmm. Wasn’t -just- waiting. Had to decrypt his blasted notes, track down the Geode, get permission from Solei to go looking for him, convince our aunt it was a good idea, although, mercifully, that didn’t take much doing. And then try to understand what in the vast depths -happened-, there. Which.” He glances at the tablet. “Is what I wanted to ask you about.” And he smiles, lightly, and reaches out for the tablet.
: “I’m happy to tell you what I can,” she says, reaching for the tablet as well.
ꙮ Vwoom-vwoom-vwoom.
: “Though,” she says, as she steps into the library, “to be clear, I wasn’t trying to make light of your actions. I thought it was lovely. That you didn’t give up on him. And more lovely that you did that much work. I had. Wanted to ask you about that. But I think you deserve your questions answered first.”
again, just… takes a moment, once they’re inside, to look around in wonder. “…didn’t get the chance to properly… compliment either you -or- Aurelius on how… -magnificent- this work is.”
: “I didn’t even think doing something like this was possible, and the two of you… just did it. It’s astounding.”
: “Oh. Well. It was. I had a model, and Aurelius is …” she bites her lip.
: “As much as I gave him shit for it, he’s the one who did it. Who understood the system, and how to transfer it, to draw the runes, to put it together. He had the … tablet idea, which is a reference I don’t quite even understand.”
: “Then he’s brilliant, and I need to tell him so, and you are too, and I’ll not have you sell yourself short.” Another bright grin. Those keep happening more and more, now. “As for the ‘model’… Wolf mentioned it, in passing, and I think I’ve heard you mention… a mask that stores memories. Wolf mentioned that the two of you were -taken- from your world. And that you’d managed to observe the memory of that event, within your mask. Is that correct?”
: “Yes. It was … missing, when I was trying to look, but Unua was able to help me and we–saw who took us. Wolf told you about the Architect?”
nods, and his eyes flash, dangerously. “It made several things make sense, to me. There was a residue, a lingering pattern in the gnosis, in the Geode, when I got there. Where Archie had -been-. Like scorch marks on the unseen boundaries of reality.”
: “Scorch marks?”
: “Ah, er. Sometimes when gnosis-work goes awry here, it goes awry rather spectacularly, so ‘scorch marks on the walls’ came concerningly-readily to mind. It’s… like the lingering echo of a particular song, or the scent of a particular sweet pastry hanging in the air, except those both sound like -nice- things, and the thing I felt wasn’t nice at all. And I was curious if I could feel the same sensation from your mask’s recollection of when you were taken.”
Takes the Mask out and holds it in one hand, tapping it against one of the blueprint bookcases, thinking. “You’re welcome to examine the Mask in any way you’d like, and I can try to show you what I saw. I’ve been working on sharing memories, though I’m not always successful. I can. Well. Let me know exactly what you’d like to do.”
: “Just try to show me what you saw. If it doesn’t work, we can try again later, I just… I need to try.” He steps closer, will do as Salme directs.
ꙮ You’re -pretty- sure you can find your way back there, especially after the reconstruction work that happened there. It’s -pretty- distinctive.
takes a breath. “Okay. It’s. Odd. I’ll need you to touch the Mask, and try to …” her eyes slide to the side, like she’s seen some of the others do before. “You’re best with Pellucid? That makes sense. Try to help me dive.” She holds out the Mask for him to touch as well.
-
Caion, the Emissary invoked their ⭐Starlit 🔵pellucid gnosis [d10: (3, 1)] -> 3.
-
Caion, the Emissary used their techné Synchronize (Lower DC by 3 when Circling.)
does not growl, under his breath. That would not be proper eidesis. It would not help this succeed.
- Caion, the Emissary spent 2 Arete and now has 4 remaining.
- Salme, The Sword-Saint invoked their 🟢flourishing gnosis [d10] -> 1.
ꙮ Caion reaches towards the Mask, and towards Salme, and the -thing- he does when he does so is, you immediately recognise, not quite the thing you’ve been reaching towards, when you’ve joined your mind with someone else’s, but it’s a grasp in, clearly, the same direction - and there’s a stutter, a discontinuity, between your mind and his in a way that was not present, between the six of you yourselves, but he overcomes it - and then you dive, deep and deep, and the Mask guides you gracefully to where you have already been. ([Take Half])
ꙮ It’s the same, then, as when you first saw the memory, what Unua and you regrew of the ash-burnt memory, and Caion focuses, -intently-, eyes half-closed, reaching out towards the memory - willing himself not to -wonder-, not to notice anything but that -presence- and the ripples it left-
gasps, and staggers back from the Mask like it nipped his fingertips. “Observed! Observed.” He shakes his hand, stares balefully at- something. At nothing, at nobody, at a memory, as Salme follows him out of the dive.
: “…thank you. I am… I believe my theory was correct.”
: “Is this a theory you can share?” she asks. “And is there any … characteristic of the scorch marks that feels familiar or specific?”
: “Simply: Whatever entity that was present within that memory was also at the Geode. Was what took Archie away from me.” And his eyes glint, -dangerously-, again, and he exhales, and paces, a little bit, looking for all the world like Archie during a Rite.
: “That was the Architect,” she says, voice flat. “When at first we tried to see what had happened, when we had followed the root-path there, it had been burned away, like ash. Your choice of ‘scorch mark’ felt. Significant.”
frowns deeply, nods, fingers twitching, and very quietly mutters: “I should like to engage the Architect in a Rite, then, I believe.” And then he straightens up, and smiles, and - well, the dangerous look isn’t -gone-, really. “Thank you for the opportunity of Counsel, Salme. I deeply appreciate it.”
: “You’re welcome, but. I don’t think you’ll succeed. The Omniclast, his other half–I’m not sure we could have won against him. Presumably he’s just as strong. Unless you know how to cheat. Or to kill him outright.”
smiles out of the corner of his mouth. “If I have to learn how to cheat at the Rite to win, then I’ll learn how to cheat at the Rite. There must be a way. Every gnosis-work has attack surfaces, no matter how perfect it seems.” A breath. “But… I won’t be figuring that out today, or even this tide, I’m sure. And you had questions for me, too.”
: “I did. Though. I wanted to ask, first, if you wanted to know what the Polite Visitor told me. Or had the noöplankton tell me, as the case may be.” She tucks the Mask away and sits on one of the sofas, legs extended in front of her, ankles crossed, like she’s trying to take up space, look more relaxed than she actually is. “I figured if anyone deserved to know it’d be you.”
does, very brightly and genuinely, smile at Salme, some of the knife-sharpness melting away, sitting down as well. “I am… I am deeply curious, yes. I had- I mentioned I’d hypothesised a link between the Polite Visitors and the noöplankton, but I’d never been able to prove it.”
: “I can … try to show you? Try to tie the memory up for you? Or I can tell you. I am pretty good with words if I make an effort. Your choice.”
: “Tell me the story. In your own words.” He closes his eyes, most of the way.
feels a bit of warmth at that. “Okay.” And then she takes a deep, slow breath and begins. ⁂
: “When she came to Samudra, she thought she was drowning. Such a beautiful, vast world but made dangerous with thoughts you couldn’t think and feelings you couldn’t feel. And she has always felt too much, and thought too much, and on her own world she had never fit, and it was worse here. And when she saw the Polite Visitor, who was also too much and didn’t fit, she felt welcome here for the first time. And so she went down to the sea and climbed the rocks and dared the ocean to hurt her in any way it could.” ⁂
: “The thing that she’d like you to understand is that she did not want to hurt anyone but herself, but she took the risk anyway. The other thing she’d like you to understand is that she wanted to know, and to do, more than she wanted anything else. And so she sent out a root-net of flourishing gnosis with a greeting, with a call–that she, too, was a visitor here. And then there was a moment of connection, and she heard a mournful warble across a distance she can’t imagine, a sense of limitless possibility, the promise that it will be different this time, and then the sound of knucklebones, windchimes, the crack of a burning branch, and then there was a wave and that connection was gone.” ⁂
draws in a slight, quick breath, transfixed, listening. Leaning forward, just a little. Listening to every word.
: “And then, she remembered several things she would rather forget, and it was all tawdry and sordid and sad, and when she gave up, stopped trying to control her thoughts, then thirteen noöplankton came and swam in a circle around her. Transparent and colorless, until one flashed blue and several flashed purple, and they spoke a little but the message they sent sounded something like this:” ⁂
tries to mimic the noöplankton’s tone. Her voice is not musical, but her mimicry of the different timbres is reasonably accurate. She closes her eyes, swaying side to side softly. “You are not alone,” she says. “You were born for the purpose of living,” she says. “You are incredibly improbable,” she says. “And yet, you exist,” she says. “I am the Universe,” she says. “You looked at me,” she says. “Fuck the haters,” she says, with a bit of a chuckle. “You are fire,” she says. “Thank you,” she says. “Roll the knucklebones,” she says. “…” she holds the silence the exact length of time. “I see you,” she says. “Hello,” she says, opening her eyes and meeting Caion’s. 🙧
blinks, repeatedly, and when he blinks is when he realises he’s been crying, and he pulls a nice handkerchief out of a pocket, and glances at it in his hand like it’s a completely unknown object before looking back at Salme.
stands easily and goes to sit next to Caion. “Since your Archivist isn’t here, may I offer you a hug?” she says softly.
: “I’m alive because of them. I know it. I washed up on the shore, when I was quite young, not far from here. They were closer to the surface than usual, a few Irós and their apprentices were investigating. I don’t remember anything before that, really, I-“ He breathes, and nods, and scootches closer to Salme to give her a hug. “Thank you. For… thank you.”
hugs him back tightly. “You were born for the purpose of living, Caion. And you gave them maybe the greatest gift they could ever wish, that anyone could ever wish–you saw them.”
: “And now you gave them that gift, too.” He smiles, gently, because turnabout’s fair play. “And I haven’t spent much time in your Circle yet but I already know that there are people who care very much about whether or not you are hurt. Including me, now.” He blinks away tears, and finally uses the damn handkerchief. “You’re very good at telling stories, Salme.” Another slow breath. “That… that sense of limitless possibility, you mentioned. That’s what I feel, too. That anything could happen. That in a Sea so vast that things like those exist, that… Archie could come back to me, from across seas unthinkable, that he could bring friends with stories of other worlds, that… things don’t. Have to stay the way they -are-. And that’s… very, very important to me.”
looks at him and smiles. “I try to hope things don’t have to stay the way they are. I sometimes.” She draws her knees up to her chest now, all the feigned openness gone. “I’m sure Wolf told you about Almachadta, about how it’s destroyed every so many centuries. I–not me, the Sword-Saint remembers. The role means remembering, and I remember so many beautiful things, and heartbreaking things. But I also remember the world dying. Over and over again. And sometimes it’s hard to keep that hope. I rely on my companions for that a lot.” ⁂
laughs a little. “I’m trying to take what I want now. Or–build it. And I guess I kind of wanted to ask you about that. About you and Archie. Nothing you wouldn’t want to share, or that would violate his trust, but–how do you build that?” ⁂
: “I have, for the first time, friends. Companions. A … clan? And two people I love and who. Seem to love me? Or. No. They do love me. But also what if … as they remember, or if as the world becomes larger, or they become more themselves, they realize they don’t … need me? Or grow past me? Or … how did you build something where you fight to get the other back no matter what? I want to learn how to do that.” 🙧
looks thoughtful, and looks up at Salme, and looks up at the skylights, and back at Salme. “Mmmm. As they remember… they’ll -be- building memories with you. You don’t grow -past- someone you love.” A pause. “Archie wasn’t -supposed- to go to the Academy. He was Silver-Throat’s apprentice, when he was young. Training to be an Irós like her. He didn’t… want that. He wanted to -understand-, and not just -see- the vast with his own eyes. And I…” -he leans back. “I was afraid that he’d go where I couldn’t follow.” ⁂
ꙮ (pretend that’s Pellucid, argh)
: “And there were so many things I hadn’t said to him, properly, with my -words-. And I almost couldn’t. But I… Silver-Throat told me, when I had nightmares, to always choose hope over fear, and it’s what made the nightmares stop. And so I did, and I told him, that I needed to know that there’d be a place for me, and that I’d always have a place for him. Even if- I don’t know how Silver-Throat and Ksenija handle it, honestly. Although I suppose they don’t have to worry about each other having been abducted off of their -world-.” He shakes his head from side to side. ⁂
: “But even if he’d left for the Academy and I’d remained here, he would have become who he wanted to be, and who he wanted to be had a place for me by his side, and vice versa. And I -knew- it, in my heart, but I had to put the fear of asking away, and ask the question. And it was hard.” He exhales. “It’s a very… Samudran answer, I think. ‘Be curious on your journey to whom you wish to be’. But it’s the best answer I know how to give, I think.” 🙧
: “It’s beautiful,” she says, softly. “I. Have asked, at least one of them. And the other I. Will. Once I’m feeling brave. but sometimes it’s hard to believe.” ⁂
: “Of our companions, I know Archie the least, but I can see how well-suited you are together, and how you make each other stronger. Thank you for telling me a bit about how you got there. I’ll remember it. And I’ll make sure you’re always woven snugly into Archie’s story when I tell it.” ⁂
hesitates, and then says. “One more question. Or. Rather two. The first one is … the Kushtaka. Would they find … being compared to otters … offensive?” 🙧
blushes, slightly, and smiles, and then laughs a little, at the question. “I should certainly hope not, given how many times I’ve made the comparison as a term of endearment. We love metaphor, it’s built into the way we talk, the way we think. Nicknames, euphemism, playing with language and symbol and sign, it’s all very natural.”
nods. “Okay. Good. I’m working on something for … him. For all of us. And I wanted to make sure it wasn’t offensive. The last thing is…” she blushes. “I realize you’re probably not the right person to ask, but … you probably noticed I’m not as well-dressed as my companions. I wanted. To maybe find something–“ she presses her face into her knees. “I wouldn’t wear it, probably, but some formal clothing? That’s. Pretty? But I didn’t know where to look, and I’m not–well. I was wondering if you could maybe direct me to a place?”
looks up, brightly! “Oh, yeah, no, I can -absolutely- help with that. If I don’t know where to go exactly, I know who will. You should see me in formal Academy dress sometime, on that note, I researched Kushtaka historical styles for tides designing it. No, you picked the right person to ask.” He smiles, rises from the sofa, offers Salme a hand, all playful gallantry. “Well, second-best person to ask, but Ksenija had to head back to her tower to deal with quote something weird end quote, but second-best is still crystal-clear. Shall we, then?”
breathes out, and smiles a bit. “Yes. Thank you,” she says, taking his hand. “Thank you for all of it, Caion. I’m grateful to have met you.”
: “As I am to have met you, and I’m grateful you’re here.” And with that, they head back out of the Library, and the work-cellar, and back to the marketplace.