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  stars above
Posted by: Amun - Yesterday, 11:53 PM - Forum: Atheneum - No Replies

Amun strolled through the stacks of the Atheneum idly. Every once in a while he'd stop to peruse some volume or other. However, he'd move on before too long. Finally, he came to a stop before a shelf of volumes and scrolls that spoke of Safrin. Her name had been on everyone's lips these days (for one reason or another) so he plucked a few likely looking tomes from the shelf.

Carrying them carefully in his arms, he went to the nearest table. Once there, he dumped them onto its surface. That done, he plucked the top one off the pile and settled in. His eyes scanned the pages that spoke of Safrin's domain and the offerings she liked and disliked.


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  between pages two and three
Posted by: Libbs - Yesterday, 12:21 PM - Forum: Atheneum - Replies (2)

A couple of weeks had passed since Libbs had her intrepid first day in the land of Caido. From that day, it had been a whirlwind of knowledge and exploration! She joined a guild. She met new people. She even was beginning to participate in some of the local events! If it wasn't for the fact that the basket took literally two people to make and was still rather delicate? She may have brought it to show him! In the midst of all of the learning, and remembering, and creation, however, Libbs indeed did not forget. And as promised, a couple of weeks later, a bright, spritey woman would find it's ways to the halls of the Athenum.

Having exchanged her pajamas for some actual clothing, Libbs looked a lot more like an aspiring student then a messy pile of nonsense. Her hair was pulled tight, leather pants, boots, gloves. A backpack that was suspiciously packed, and of course, the hoodie that she entered the world with.

Entering the halls for the first time, Libbs literally pulled a first-time tourist moment. She stood in the corridor, jaws dropped, eyes to the tallest cases, and gasping silently as if someone had told her the secrets to life. There was so much in here! Did they have any information on the technology they have so far? What they've found? Or where the metals were? Possibilities started to pour through Libb's brain. But wait! She snapped her head, and walked towards the nearest person. She had a misson!

" 'Xcuse me. I am looking for someone named Jigano. Tall dude. Long white hair? Blue eyes? Has a really cute little gryphon that's like part owl part leopard?" she asked politely, using hand gestures to describe Jigano. Mind you, she didn't realize how UNNECESSARY this was, EVERYONE probably knew who the bard was. But she didn't know that.

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  Hall of the Lore King
Posted by: Aonghas - Yesterday, 03:34 AM - Forum: Atheneum - Replies (1)

It was time, Aonghas had told himself, to seek out the white-haired Sage. The offer had been brought up before and had been so easily hand waved, but it was now that the misplaced blond decided to actually carve a life out for himself here in Caido. And so this is why he found himself slipping through the stacks of the Athenuem without a care. With a new season upon them he had been out of the loop with the gathering for Fiat Lux, and with no real care about how those festivities had ended either. Nor had much attention been paid to the aftermath of the ousting of Wessex as monarch. His attempt at integrating with this place only got him so far, for now it was time to focus more on himself, as had suited him before his portalling here.

Aonghas liked the Atheneum however. The tomes offered a comfort in the scant knowlege they would offer him regarding the eccentricities of Caido and he was happy enough to lose himself within them. It was something new to him too, to have the preference of learning from the writings of predecessors than from their spoken words. That was easily chalked up to him feeling smaller in this world than he had ever felt before. So rubbing elbows with Gods, demigods and sorcerers or those of that ilk when you no longer held the same weight wasn’t easy.

Once set on making his way to the Loreseeker’s Guild to find its Provost, Aonghas stopping short when something large and dusty caught his eye. He gingerly lifted the tome from its housing in the stacks with the intent of having just a quick scan of it before returning to the mission he had firmly set in his mind.


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  Hidden in the dark
Posted by: Zidane - Yesterday, 12:13 AM - Forum: Sanctuary - No Replies

Zidane, bitter once again at people, had taken refuge in the biggest tree he had been able to spot by the houses of the sanctuary. Sure; he could have sat down under the tree in the dark but honestly it was easier for him to be spotted there. This had lead to him smoothly climbing up on one of the thick branches of the tree to place his butt there. He was visible sure but most people tended to not look upwards as they walked so most didn't even notice him. Besides; not many was out and about during nighttime anyhow.

He held one of his knives and carved a motive in a thick piece of bark he had ripped from the tree after he had hidden up there. Nothing spectacular at all, more just a unminded knife doodle as he calmed himself down from the voices screaming in his head. Funny wasn't it? The screams always appeared during the nights when he was able to move around without perishing but never during the days. Maybe it was cause of that specific, nightly experience so many years ago. Probably, and it was impossible to get rid of none the less. A flash of red pierced his inner sight, the blood that covered his home with the origin of his family members. The knife slipped and pricked his thumb which made him look at the liquid slowly starting to leak out from him. No other reaction what so ever ofcourse more then that he slowly fished up a piece of cloth from his pocket to twirl around the "wound" to prevent him from leaking further. Hmm...

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  Flickering through other's lives.
Posted by: Zidane - 01-17-2020, 03:25 PM - Forum: The Settlement - Replies (2)

As the darkness had fallen over the settlement he had steered his way towards Wordsworth books to perhaps find something new to read in the morning to come. He had already a wall of books at home but needed something new to read.. yet again. Besides he also needed to talk to Sam to start catching up with what was going on in the world now days. He had been at "rest" for way to long already and he had promised Amun to start involve himself a bit more, even though that was a thing that easily could annoy this Ascended man. He didn't like noises which was a damn curse considering noises where filling every world daily, so it was something he really needed to work on. Every time the volume went up the screaming of his sisters getting murdered filled his head mixed with echos from that night so long ago.

He reached the destination and opened the door then proceeded to walk into the wooden bookshop. The wooden floored creaked slightly as he walked over it until he stopped to see if he could spot Sam anyplace around.

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  so familiar a gleam
Posted by: Maea - 01-17-2020, 03:38 AM - Forum: Sanctuary - Replies (2)

In the end, Maea decided that the Greatwood was far too vast for her to find one person within. Even if she'd had a more specific location to go to, she was eager to get started on the mission Ludo had granted her, and that meant she would have to be efficient about certian things.

Though, you'd think a seer should have seen her coming...

Having discovered the name of the person she was to seek out on the Notice-board a few days ago, Maea had taken to hover about the ruins of the Temple. This Daughter of Mort had written on her note that she would come to this place in search of Safrin's Chosen, and while Maea was no such thing it was probably the only opportunity she would get to speak to this curious individual.

Perched on a particularly large piece of rubble from the ancient building, she stared chin in hand at the once beautiful remnants of the shrine. It pained her to see it destroyed. Not only for the historical value of the structure, or indeed all the memories contained within it - generations of worship, weddings and funerals, lives come and gone within the shelter of these walls - but also for the tragedy of losing a place so intrinsically tied to the gods.

It would have to be rebuilt of course. No doubt there were people who searched the records for the method to do this already, and Maea hoped to lend a hand when the time came... but for now, her thoughts were focused on another task.

[say]"Where are you, Delphia?"[/say] she muttered to herself, scanning the crowd of passersby. Most faces she knew, some with names to recall and relations to remember, and the pale eyes darted back and forth in search of one that was unfamiliar.

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  That's my life, nothing is sacred
Posted by: Samuel - 01-16-2020, 10:16 PM - Forum: Domiciles - No Replies

Since Fiat Lux, Remi had been gone.

Sam had not been at the festival - it was too much during the day to be comfortable and besides, he'd felt worried about the chances of someone growing mad at his presence there. Now that he'd been voted for the position of Natural Adviser he was beginning to realise his reputation might not be as awful as he had imagined, but at the time of the festival he had believed himself very unpopular indeed.

He'd heard that Remi had not died. Aoife had, but then...some said Remi disappeared, some said in a puff of smoke or a beam of light. Others said he probably had died and simply gotten lost in the mudslides. Sam had trouble believing that one. Remi was very strong and after Ronin had been taken by Safrin, he suspected the same had to have happened to his friend.

There was only one way to find out and he was terrified to try it. Last time he'd prayed at a shrine he'd been burnt by the sun and sent away, but he could not stop thinking of Remi, of how his friend could be lost and wondering when anyone would look for him. His stone seemed to be being pressed at all times of day; a sign of great distress.

It was a sign of desperation that he eventually ended up at Phoebe's door. He had not spoken to her in a long time, but especially not after she had become a Portal Guardian. Would she even speak to him, he wondered? With a sigh, he knocked on the clinic door, the dusk sky casting a shadow over the doorway.

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  [se] like a diamond
Posted by: Amun - 01-16-2020, 09:43 PM - Forum: Fields - No Replies

Amun had found himself with far too much free time on his hands as of late. Unfortunately, when he had free time, he tended to participate in slightly more nefarious activities. So he’d surreptitiously palmed a quartz crystal pendant when the stall owner was distracted.

However, it had occurred to him that he had no actual need of a quartz crystal. So he’d waited until nightfall, then meandered on down to the Fields. The sky was overcast, hiding both the stars and moon. However, a spot of light caught his eye and he made his way towards it. His destination was the shrine to Safrin that he'd heard about.

Taking out the pendant, he also took a patch from belt pouch. Laying the patch on his hand, he commanded it to glow, which it did, albeit softly. Then placed the crystal on it, lighting up the quartz from below.


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  right back to you
Posted by: Deimos - 01-16-2020, 09:01 PM - Forum: Infirmary - No Replies

The dusk spread between his strides, a pace neither frenetic nor leisurely, strong and stalwart, conviction in their movement, an eternity of determination stoked in veins and lacquer. Entering the infirmary always brought some segments of ghosts and phantoms though, and maybe that’s why he stayed for short intervals, checking in on the Shield, then departing for duties and responsibilities before he was accused of hovering, returning in the evening. Here were stark moments spread in death and damnation; hers once, a LongNight scalding, and ruminations of another world entirely, when he could do absolutely nothing but watch his world crumble to pieces, drowned in the murk, in the rivers, in the currents of a lost rain.

Not now though – not when goddesses had given and granted him opportunity, not when he refused to be buried and burned under the rubble of their persecutions and perils; head above the surface, grasping for air and struggling to breathe, muscles unwinding, unfurling, begging to be released.

He made the familiar trek, threading through halls and parlors, ignoring the shape of the distorted temple nearby, the offshoot of fallen wares, bricks, and stones, clenching his jaw, biting down on the enamel in the back of his mouth, eyes shifting back to beds and bandages, finding hers in the fading light by the window, the press of the full moon promising, another moment to be fulfilled. There was too much silence, an indication of rest, so he shifted, quietly, across floorboards, as if he were part of the shadow, part of the darkness, before settling in a chair beside her cot.

Only then did a bone-deep exhaustion spread: from the hours, the days, the moments he’d spent piercing and puncturing, roaming and pushing, intending to not give or grant himself enough time to think about anything. Leaning forward, not mulling, not musing once more, he pressed his palms along the ivory sheets and surface, a heavy sigh looming in his chest, thinking about reaching for her hands somewhere in the midst – second guessing it thereafter, not wishing to disturb. So instead, his head followed, resting on forearms, eyelids threatening their heavy closure, and despite his rapid blinking, the strain, the fight, they slowly descended, brought him to slumber.

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  for a scrap of armor
Posted by: Deimos - 01-16-2020, 08:25 PM - Forum: Ruins - No Replies

He knew ruins: had been one for a long time.

But today he was not laden amongst their bones and sarcophaguses, their carcasses and catacombs, refusing to bend or break like bleached enamel and bloodied marrow. Too close, too certain, too sure, a marching ministration of goals and convictions, glancing along earthen floors and vast warrens of a world too far gone. His eyes were not for them, his soul was not to wander into its midst, his entity not confined to its mystical, enigmatic edges, to definitions of what must have been and couldn’t. He didn’t dwell on those notions, hell-spun and resolute, drifting closer and closer to the outskirts instead, to the boughs extended over old roofs and collapsed shells. To leaves, meant to either signify life or their destroyed, muddled aspects, the jars containing others held in the bag over his shoulder; inspecting, collecting, determination melded and molded into his brow – the piercing juncture of his stare reserved for branches and brambles, for the surface of serrated blades and fronds.

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