light the fuse

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame They’d failed. It wouldn’t be the first, nor the last – he’d frequently looked defeat and collapse in the face. Once, he might’ve sunk right into the dungeons and bled himself over the catacombs. Once, he might’ve ground his teeth, clenched his jaw, and wished for someone to suffer for the wrath inflicted upon him, his notions, and his beliefs. But in the present, it anointed him with purpose. While the gods consecrated others, while the deities implored upon those worthy, the Reaper and Rexanna embarked on goals, on motivations, on information gathering – firmly stuck and caught in the middle, at a standstill, feet on either side. He rarely reveled in purgatory – he preferred omens and ultimatums, disaster and the truth, perils and claws, battlefields and scars, hell and its obvious consignments. His irreverence painted them neither illustrious or notable – but his determination, the facets and invocations carving their way up his bones, through his flesh and sinew and veins, would earn them something. It could be hatred. It could be indifference. It could be nothing at all, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. It was Deimos’ turn to lead the way, though he was just as uncertain along the threshold of the Loreseeker’s Guild as he had been within the temple’s grasp. At least here they had half a chance: he didn’t expect scholars, no matter their eternal making, to turn them away from knowledge and wisdom. The Atheneum was familiar, comfortable, despite perilous ruins and obvious signs of disrepair. It held a soul, sagacity, and the beast could appreciate its sentiments. Silently, because his stride was swift and Rexanna understood he wasn’t one for idle chit-chat, he followed the lines of bookstacks and shelving towards a metallic door; embossed and embedded with page sigils. He opened it, holding the aperture long enough for Rexanna to step within, then wandering side by side, descending into the hall. Mirrors, scrolls, and endless information wafted their way towards them. He inhaled, slow, steady, methodical and calm, suddenly embedded with control and composure again, pushing the vehemence, the frustration, the belligerence away from his being. “Hello,” his deep voice uttered, rang off the walls, and he glanced at Rexanna, arching a brow, before proceeding. “We have come seeking information regarding the barrier.” Would that be enough to summon someone from the depths? Would that be enough to solidify decisions, embark on further crusades? Or would they be stuck again, deep in the muck and the mire? master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

For Rexanna Amalia Maea <333

REXANNA for a time it seemed to me, that we were starlight-touched... failing to realize that we were starcrossed, There was a comfortable and quiet companionship that Rexanna and Deimos had. And despite the fact they had failed at the shrine, they had at least tried. They couldn’t have known they’d fail when they went, but at least they attempted to go to the source. And without it, it was a quiet shuffling toward the Loreseeker’s Guild, wondering what kind of information they might have here. Perhaps against her judgement they might have more than she initially thought. But she went regardless, because it was some quiet pact between the Reaper and Siren that they were in this together. Side by side. And she stuck next to him as though there were safety in numbers, despite the fact there was no real threat. Yet, anyhow. But they had reached the doorway and Deimos held it open for her. She stepped in quietly, stepping aside to leave room for Deimos as they stood waiting to see what would happen. Jigano had once told her of the living books in here, and while she wanted to find out more information, she didn’t want to be swept away into one just yet. Luckily for her, Deimos’ voice rung out along the old books and stone walls – she listened while it echoed slightly. She hoped perhaps there were people around, otherwise their attempts to gather information regarding the barrier would be long and tiring. And Rexanna wasn’t really the patient kind of woman. She was optimistic, driven and focused. But when it came to books she found it a bit exhausting. So she stood side by side with Deimos, looking around the Atheneum with interest and intrigue. “We want to learn more about it.” Her chime of a voice echoed too, but was softer and lighter on the air than her counterpart. What a pair they made, beautiful and foreboding. She only hoped there were those willing to answer. After all, it wasn’t like they were charging into the Spire. the stars were never on our side.

They did not have to wait long before the sound of soft feet upon stone floors announced the approach of a resident. Maea wasn't confident enough to call herself a Loreseeker just yet, not when she had yet to make her way through even one of the books... But she loved spending her time in the Guild hall none the less, and was growing more confident with the place for each day.

Like a pale ghost, dressed all in white save the black scarf about slender shoulders that she never put aside, she looked with quiet interest from the tall, dark man to the slender woman by his side. Recognizing Rexanna, she brightened into a smile and hurried over, happy to see her training companion again.

"Rexanna! This is a nice surprise. Come on in, both of you. Who is your friend?"

She showed them further into the hall towards a sitting area, where comfortable chairs har been placed near a fireplace. A kettle of hot water hung by the fire, and as the guests made themselves comfortable Maea began to arrange a tray of cups, tea and simple treats.

"So, you want to know about the barrier... A very current topic indeed. I might not be the one you want to talk to, as others have received more detailed information lately, but I can fill you in on the basics."

She brought the tray over to them and sat down, smiling rather nervously as she tried to fill the role she was supposed to play. This was her first time guiding anyone, and Maea felt the pressure of conveying accurate information, and on such a broad topic too.

"Why don't you start by telling me what you have learned so far? And a bit about what you hope to find out. I'll do my best to answer your questions."

MAEA

just a glimpse of truth

Amalia

only lonely hid the morning from the stars

✩

Amalia does not expect to see anyone there- or rather, she does not to expect any of the trio present. Armed with her staff and a basket of bread, the young librarian steps lightly down the stairs, lost in a world of her thoughts creation. She has come to drop some food off for Jigano, and perhaps to also read one of Safrin's books, the lot of which sit tucked away on a special, alcoved shelf. A soft spring tune flits from her lips: "The girl, she asked for sun from Rae... But only rain fell through the day..." She does not hear them until she sees them, a trio of figures in firelight.

Less surprising then their presence is the fact she knows them all. Deimos, the glacial beast of songs and scones. Rexanna, the kindly Outlander who left her so confused. Maea, the ghostly older girl who haunted her mother's footsteps, always somewhere further than Amalia could reach, now wearing a shawl of familiar rags. The baker regards them all in turn, soft sable gaze fluttering, floating, before falling at last on the tray of tea between them.

"Sorry," Amalia musters at last, angular face awkward as she grapples between curiosity and shyness- and stepping forward as curiosity wins out. "Maea... are those Ludo's rags?"

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame They were answered, calls for information echoing down the chambers, until softened steps meandered their way into the aperture. He recognized the pale creature before them, albeit briefly, and without a name to the face, gathered in the same outrages and meetings they’d all found themselves thrust within. Rexanna was received well, and clearly he’d shared the same former fate he’d bestowed upon the colorless figure, unknown, like a particle of dust or sand. He was accustomed to it now though, biding his time, waiting, action and devastation boiling down into his veins, waiting for the opportunity, the moment, to strike. “Deimos,” he acknowledged her inquiry with an answer, a firm nod, obliging because there was knowledge and sagacity to be had, grasped, held, and he wasn’t about to ruin the opening they’d been handed. The beast looked back at Rexanna, proffering an arch of his brow but saying nothing else, before following the white woman down the hall. There were no threats, no ill omens, no ominous, foreboding hisses treading down the length of the walls. Perhaps that was more unsettling to him: hospitality and tranquility, serenity in the array of scholarly wonders. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do when she showed them further into the sitting area, with its chairs near a fireplace, trays of cups and promised tea…taking one simply a seat simply out of courtesy, but refusing to sink into its depths, spine straight and taut. What he’d learned had been minimal though. His ignorance was an outstanding thing, and it genuinely appeared to enjoy slapping him in the face on a day-to-day basis. Ask him anything about his own homelands, about the ways the world had twisted back upon itself time after time, war after war, campaign after campaign, and he’d be a wealth of knowledge. Here though, where he’d been thrust into the great unknown, the more he wandered, he found the less he knew. He’d been scraping by on Naturals’ beneficence and his own experiences, some less considerate than others. But to the barrier’s regard, he had very little but the bellows of the crowd when the spire monster was being defeated, the rage, the glory, the triumph, the devastation, all merged and combined together into a brawling mob. His tones were plain, largely ineffectual with their comprehension and expertise, but that’s why they’d arrived here. “Some want it down. Others want it to remain. It keeps us here.” His gaze flickered over to Rexanna, who likely held a lot more schooling and erudition on the subject matter, before another appeared. Deimos hadn’t expected Amalia to glide into the area, but their need for cognition and perception must’ve summoned her too. He tilted his head and regarded her with a nod, the slightest indent of a smile, but she seemed distracted, shy, and he couldn’t really ascertain why. Was this not her threshold? Or was it their presence, the abandoned, the Outlanders, in the corridors, out of place, ill-fitting, not belonging? Then the subject shifted to the rags (Ludo’s) draped on Maea’s shoulders, set apart from the rest of her blank canvas, for it was the exact opposite of her chosen hues. He’d seen the god drape itself across her during the mayhem, the menace, but wouldn’t have known what to make of it until now. Favored by the Gods. He paid it little mind, since he would never be amongst or amidst the chosen, the anointed, the consecrated few, yet – it was a curious thing, to unravel why or how she’d come to be selected and appointed, where others had not. Perhaps they were about to learn far more than what they’d come for. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

REXANNA for a time it seemed to me, that we were starlight-touched... failing to realize that we were starcrossed, She hadn’t expected to hear such a friendly voice, walking into the Loreseekers Guild. But she couldn’t complain in the slightest as a pale woman, dressed with the same rags she had seen her in previously, breezed by with a smile and hurried toward her and Deimos. She glanced to her companion for a moment before looking to Maea and offering a wide, bright smile of her own. “It is a surprise!” She acknowledged with a quiet hum of a laugh, but Deimos introduced himself to Maea and her friend began to show them to a place where they could talk. Rexanna followed diligently, and took a seat beside Deimos – the man not quite getting comfortable just yet, but Rexanna had no qualms with it. She sunk into the cushions, crossing one leg over the other. And her sapphire gaze slipped toward Maea curiously as she began to speak of others learning more information more recently than the pale woman had. But she acknowledged it, and was happy to listen to fill in any blanks. When Maea offered to help fill in the blanks, her head shifted toward Deimos before a voice began from the depths of the books, an almost sorrowful song based off the lyrics, but she found her gaze traveling toward the sound as well only to find Amalia. She stepped forward, apologized, and questioned Maea which caused Rexanna to glance toward the rags that Maea wore before looking back toward Amalia with a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you again Amalia.” She offered, no longer harboring any of the flirtatious tones she had previously encountered Amalia with. But Deimos had already laid out the information that he knew, and as he glanced to Rexanna, she straightened and looked between all of them. “We want to get an idea of what it’s keeping in. And perhaps what it might be preventing from getting in if there’s any information or news on that. We aren't sure where to start, really.” She tilted her head with the question burning in her eyes. But she hadn’t met with Remi just yet, had yet to learn that it was to keep the Ascended in. And now, she was filled with a grim curiosity to try and begin to expect the unexpected. the stars were never on our side.

Smiling timidly at the tall, stern looking man, Maea offered her own name in return and guides the guests to comfort, looking happily off at Rexanna ever now and then just to confirm the was really there.

While prepairing the treats she considered their request and sorted through what she ought to tell them first and what to save for later. She was just about to begin when the privacy of the meeting was interrupted by a familiar singing. Maea stiffened instinctively, shoulders tensing up as Amalia came into view. Pale eyes roamed quickly over the younger girl, part eager, part reluctant; it had been a long time since they last spoke properly, and as much as Maea told herself otherwise, she still missed her long time friend. Or... whatever they were. It was complicated.

"Amalia. I... it's nice to see you again." But awkward. Like she was intruding on Amalia's space, barging in where she did not belong.

"I was just about to start filling them in on the barrier. Would you...? I mean, if you have time, if you don't mind, could you help? Jigano told me... you've discovered some new things recently?" Fingering the scarf while avoiding the beautiful woman's gaze, Maea felt like she was shrinking, reduced by the minute by all the unvoiced things that hovered between them. Was it just her, just imagination, or..?

"Well... yes. It is. I... They answered my prayer, Ama."

A touch of wonder to her voice, a smile that was ever so slightly tender. Amalia should know how much a thing like that would mean to her, who had prayed all her life and never received anything. Until now.

MAEA

just a glimpse of truth

Amalia

only lonely hid the morning from the stars

✩

They all react differently, and Amalia's eyes flutter briefly as she looks between the three, something half embarrassed and half intrigued emblazoned on her face.  A half-smile for Deimos, a nod for Rexanna - has the woman lost her accent already? - and a somewhat shadowed look for Maea, questioning, uncertain, as though looking for invitation to intrude. They have not spent much time together, not since Amalia's grandmother's death- and even then it had been her mother who cared for and taught the older Valair, while the young waif clung to her grandmother's shadow.

But the question feels like an invitation, and Amalia draws nearer despite her anxiety. Her brow furrowing slightly in thought, she moves to stand among them, chewing delicately on her lip. "The Old Gods, Vi and Mort and Rae, built it almost three hundred years ago. After the Voice began to create Ascendeds, and threaten the balance of the world." She thinks of the vehemence with which Safrin spoke, her disdain for the inorganic palpable in her cosmic gaze. "Our lives were spared because of Mort's love."

Amalia looks again at Maea as her question is answered, glancing over the rags again before meeting pale eyes, her own black gaze bright. "That is wonderful, Maea," Amalia breathes earnestly, her face breaking into a reverent smile. She thinks of her own encounter with Ludo in the Shrine, and with Safrin before. "The books we found in Safrin's library are all here, and the map of what's outside, if you want to read them. Or-" and here she stumbles, suddenly self-conscious, realizing too late her mistake. With a fleeting glance at Maea she clears her throat, eyes again on the tea and snacks, right hand pulling absently at her left sleeve.

"I will be reading them further, and Jigano too, probably, and the other Loreseekers. Maybe we can take turns reading them aloud? To save time."

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The Reaper had always been an apt listener, a careful observer, doused with quiet, meticulous pursuits. The exchange between Maea and Amalia was an intriguing one, and were he not burdened and calculating other measures (like the subject matter of the barrier), he might’ve noted it more cautiously, framed it as more than idle curiosity. For now, he struggled not to roll his eyes at the they answered my prayer connotations – flicking his gaze away to travel on the books, on the shelving, on the crackling, roaring fire, anything else but the fury suddenly brewing in his chest. How many times had he listened to the prayers of his comrades, of his fellows, of his brothers in arms on the battlefield? How many times had they called to their gods, begging for forgiveness, pleading for something more than a slow death, for an end to their suffering? How many times had he buried them when they were gone, still without their deities and idols? How many times had they been left in silence? How many times had he tried and kneeled in the damned dirt, before giving up entirely? A chill radiated through his spine, a quick shudder along his shoulders, and he ground his teeth, clenched his jaw, and churned his thoughts to better things before the urge to stomp out maneuvered his presence. Amalia was far more gracious about it; and he took the cue, his features back into their calm, nonchalant veneer, without the spread and space of derision, defiance, clawing along his brows. He attended and concentrated on the theme, taking in the names and qualities of the gods who’d created, who’d attempted balance, who’d somehow lost that ability as Ascendeds spread their nuances and nooses. More inquiries burst through his mind at the intonations: because why did they allow the Voice to live then, if they felt threatened by the growing existence of altered beings? Why not shatter them apart? Or was it beyond their scope, their designs, their molten leisure? Deimos nodded, affirming understanding and comprehension, but didn’t let the inquiries adhere to his mouth and spew across his tongue; the inclusion of Safrin’s library, maps, and books a notion he hadn’t thought of. The scholarly, inquisitive sanctions of his mind buzzed and hummed, further tempted by information instead of constant vigilance or violence. He’d rather not continue to be stranded in the great ether of ineptitude, ignorance, and the unknown, become partially aware of what was untangling, unfurling, around them. The Reaper’s stoic gaze riveted slightly upon Rexanna, a seditious luster to their countenance, daring, an emboldened provocation, the old blending with the new, before he twisted back to Amalia. His words centered on gratitude and acknowledgment, a bend in appreciation, and his disposition, inward and drawn, was an avaricious, covetous plunge into the fathoms, the depths. “I would be willing.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace

REXANNA for a time it seemed to me, that we were starlight-touched... failing to realize that we were starcrossed, The woman listened quietly, content to sit among friends and learn while Maea addressed Amalia. Her sapphire gaze danced between the two before settling on Amalia as she began to step closer and inform them of the old gods. Sitting forward now in the chair, her eyes pay close attention to Amalia as she listens, brows furrowing together slightly but nodding along – but before Amalia continues much more, she addresses Maea and the rags she wears – the ones from Ludo, evidently. A god of which Rexanna hasn’t met yet, but she hopes to make a chance of meeting them all one day. But then, Amalia speaks to them again, and she listens as her eyes dance between all of her company, darting to Deimos briefly as the suggestion from Amalia arises. The deep voice of her companion rises, to say that he is willing to read, and to which Rexanna agrees. There’s no harm in helping, especially for a common goal. And plus, she knew everyone here at least to an extent (Jigano included, wherever he might be), and she finds it pleasant despite everything to learn among them – to find new things and events that might have occurred in the past that even the Natural’s hadn’t known yet. So Rexanna nodded, to everyone there with a chipper smile along her face. “I would be honored.” She said after, eyes dancing from Deimos (whom had been the one at her side in another life, another world, finding information among the fray, among the fog where it might have been hard to see if it weren’t for the two of them) to Amalia and Maea, prepared to venture into the books and see what kind of notes and other oddities they could find. the stars were never on our side.