trinkets and baubles [SE]

ISLA physician, heal thyself "Even with the bats?" Isla smiles to Aamu, though she isn't about to deny that she had enjoyed fixing up the infirmary. It had felt good do something so comparatively ordinary, to use her hands and to see results at the end of it all. Simialrly to now, in fact, the medic slotting her folded pieces of paper together and carefully beginning to twist and turn them so they might fan into a colourful bauble. She glances up only when Wessex says her name, offering a smile in return. "That's right, yes," she says with a nod. "You've heard of me? Only good things, I hope. I'm afraid I don't recognise your face, but your voice is familiar. Queen Wessex?"

WESSEX

Confirming her identity with a small nod, the other blonde dips her brush into a bottle of white paint and holds it at the ready. “Just Wessex is fine.” Forty years of her life without a title means it’s still at odds with how she sees herself. She uses it when it suits her, when she needs to, but otherwise she’s still just Wessex - in a bigger house, with more power and more responsibility - a hunter and fighter at heart. Still learning how to do this Queen thing.

“Yes, I was very interested in meeting the doctor-turned-Ascended after I was reborn, but -” she shrugs. They all know what happened. Her mouth opens again to say something, and then closes, changing her mind and privately reaching out to Azrael privately instead. Hey Az, you might want to tell Isla what you can do. I bet she - and everyone else here - would think it’s pretty cool.

Pulling her focus back to the bauble, the Wraith begins to put white polka dots on it.

No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all

Neos

Look out 'cause here I come
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum

Neos had been paying attention to what was spoken around him as he went to where the whittling supplies. Now, he admittedly had more experience with carpentry, but it should be enough to at least know how to work with the wood to get what he's hoping for with this alternate set of tools.

His attention momentarily perked up at the mention of a 'Queen Wessex', a name he remembered Henry mentioning to him back in Torchline before travelling here. As he moved to pick out which pieces of wood to turn into baubles, he had his eyes focus for a moment on the person he heard the name of, Wessex, a neutral expression on his face as he did so. When he heard the turnaway of the title, he nodded and focused his eyes on his selections, though his ears still paid attention.

Reborn? This Wessex died before?

Hm...interesting...

I...don't even want to know what you're scheming, Gemini...

Finding a piece that would work for his intentions, one of a many he would ended up making use of, he decided to try to focus on that and any further conversations that happened around him...and not the ones in his own head. Despite Bastion's attempts to be clearly welcoming...he didn't feel like he belonged there. Felt more like a trespasser. Yeah, instincts telling him to run didn't help, but this goes beyond that. The people around him, they were familiar with one another, even if it seemed like they never met before.

He couldn't help but feel like an intruder in another person's home, and it's a thought that caused a sad frown to suddenly form on his face as he focused whittling down the wood in his hands, trying to shape it into what was clearly a large tree of some kind that had a face upon it. "...wonder how Bartleby and the others among the Spiral are doing," he found himself muttering faintly without thinking on his words.

I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies

This is me

Aamu

"Even with the bats," he confirms wryly, pausing in his whittling to look up. Blinks slowly as a sly smile starts to form on his lips. "Honestly, they were the best part of it." And it is true—sure, watching Nate wrestle with curtains had been funny too, but it doesn't even come close to the chaos of evicting panicked bats. And the absolutely best part of it? Watching Mabel grow and glow as her suggestion was expanded upon and acted out.

Neos mentions woodworking, and Wessex directs him over to Aamu, who patiently leans away to let the man select his tools and wooden victims in peace. He seems anxious enough as it is, and a little off his rocker, if that sudden head-slam from before is anything to go by. Aamu wonders if the table had offended him.

He returns to his whittling, proving to be decent at it, but far from a master. You can tell it's a bird, and the proportions are alright, but the detail could've been finer and some edges and transitions smoother. Aamu puts it on the table and starts to look for paints when he hears Neos mumble. "What?" he asks, a reflex because he either hadn't heard, or the words didn't make sense. He's not quite sure which.

You are the night-time fear
You are the morning when it's clear

Kid, I feel like yelling

Ring the bell and bang the drum

He was pleased to see so many Ascended faces bright and cheerful, doing well - Bastien smiled and chatted with each, eyes cast down to his embroidery work, fingers moving deftly over the fabric and letting the room's conversation flow around him, for the most part. He'd always been a host, a facilitator, someone to open the doors and let people walk through; his favourite place to be was the middle of a room like this.

A banging on the table drew his attention and he looked up to see one of his guests, the one he didn't really know, with his head slammed into it. At first he worried the man may have fainted or been overcome with illness, but he seemed to sit up well enough and speak. "I would ask that you please refrain from using my tables for self injury." Bastien said with a polite, joking tone, though there was some genuine concern in his eyes. "As for wood tools, look in the cabinet there-" He pointed to a set of drawers in one of the back corners, a roughly carved statue of a bird unfinished atop it, made and deserted by a member of the guild a while ago.

Anyway, he was happy to see those he did know doing well; Bastien looked over to Azrael with a fond, proud smile, every bit an adoring parent. "My dear, just do whatever you feel. Remember what we said about art - it comes from you, first and foremost. If you want to, just close your eyes, feel the paint and use your fingers. Whatever you need to do in the moment." Especially while they were young, he thought it was good for them to experiment.

There's just no telling all the things that you’ll become

BASTIEN

Base Code by Sky!

MABEL

Conversations spiraled around them from the elder contributors; Mabel merely listened to Azrael, attempting to absorb herself into the art forms. Her eyes darted to the clay the younger Ascended was working on – and a little smile dipped along her mouth at Bastien’s suggestions towards his child, missing the antics of the other, unknown soul entirely. She was engrossed in their partaking of the artistic assurances, uncertain, unsure, but taking the plunge anyway. No one had judged her yet for the faulty lines wobbling on the orb. “I think I’ll paint some of the forest,” a whisper coaxed its sway towards Azrael, a shrug of her shoulders to indicate a lack of meaning, when there were truly entirely too many. The woodland, the stretch of home surrounding the farmhouse, eaves and boughs before they were christened into something else. The brushstrokes held – light and airy, ethereal and eldritch all at once, darkening tips of the emerald green flickering across the bauble.

I bare my teeth
and stretch my claws out

and the sky was littered with the corpses of stars

Their attention drifts toward the sound of the man’s head hitting the table as Bastien’s voice rings out to them, before their attention is drawn to their bauble again. And they’re certainly trying hard to get those curves, the edges of the clay seemingly fighting against them which only ends in small bouts of frustration. But they can tell their father’s voice is aimed at them, now, their dark gaze lifting to focus on their father with a slight pinch to their brow. “I know papa, I just really wanted to try to get it… I don’t know, smoother.” They look back down at their bauble and the straight lines they’d added to create more of a pattern rather than the experiment they had prior “It’s really hard.” For them, for some reason, but they take their father’s advice and close their eyes, smoothing out the clay again to begin to design it with their fingers and the edge of a fingernail to try and get the lines in it they want.

In this time, while they focus on their bauble with their eyes closed, they do relax a bit. They offer Mabel a wide fanged smile. “You’re going to make a wonderful forest, I can tell.” This is said with far more confidence than they have with their own work. But then @Wessex’s voice flickers through their mind, causing them to snap open their eyes and glance over toward the Queen with the edge of a smile still on their face. Oh, okay. They say softly, scanning the room for this mysterious Isla.

They cast a glance back toward Mabel. “I’ll be right back!” And they’re scooting back out of their chair, bounding toward the tables with all of these strangers they have yet to meet. Their eyes focus on Isla in greeting, flashing a wide fanged grin. “Hi miss Isla!” Comes the youthful chime, their gaze flicking back toward Wessex for a moment before returning to the doctor. “Aunt Wessex told me that you might think my upgrade is cool. I can heal!” Their chest puffs out and their excitement is cascaded over the tables. They don’t realize that healing usually only works on non-Ascended, and the feat of their upgrade being so they can heal Ascended, was a brilliant thing all in its own.

this one night, i saw a million lightyears pass

Azrael

WESSEX

Her bauble isn’t perfect, but it’s simple and it’s done and she’s been social and met Isla.

A night well spent, in her humble opinion. Wessex places the wet white brush down and screws the cap on, a little unsure if she should clean the brush herself or leave it for Bastien and Azrael to do. She opts for the latter, her attention caught by Azrael’s bounding towards the medic and announcing what he can do.

Aunt Wessex brings a small smile to her face and she nods enthusiastically. They don’t need her approval, but she gives it anyway, hping that Isla will be delighted and then Azrael will be delight and that it all comes off as fostering relationships instead of meddling.

No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all

Neos

Look out 'cause here I come
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum

Okay, the term 'upgrade' was one of the last terms he expected to hear on this world. The word had Neos lift his head to try to focus more on that particular conversation...and he found he couldn't follow this conversation, clearly missing something here.

"Upgrade," he asked with a confused voice before looking around. "What do you mean by 'upgrade'?" He glances around the building, not really seeing much that could be considered as advanced technology as he knew it, before adding, "Something tells me what you mean by that is not what I'm used to that that word meaning."

There was no tone of negativity, just confusion and trying to understand. He knew of upgrading machines, but nothing about how the Ascended use that word to mean.

I will laugh if these people are living machines.

I hope not, I think I'd have an aneurism trying to process that...

I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies

This is me

Aamu

Aamu is content to be left to his own devices. He's spent some time mulling over which paints to pick for his bird—something that sticks close to realism, or something that's matched only by the splendor of Caido's more fantastical creatures..? Absently he chews on the corner of his bottom lip, before selecting his range of hues: whites and beiges, a deeper brown, and a couple of blues, one light and one deeper, darker. As an afterthought he grabs some black, too.

As he's busy laying down the groundwork for the bird's (more realistic) pattern he notices Azrael make their way over to Isla, proudly announcing that they are capable of healing. He is interested, of course, but content to merely listen.

The newcomer opens his mouth, though, and Aamu looks up at him. "Bio-tech enhancements," he explains, soft, gentle, his voice somehow carrying despite the bustle in the room. "Such as this." He rolls up a shirtsleeve and shows his forearm to Neos; he bends his wrist back and tenses a particular combination of muscles, and a blade slides out. "We tend to just call them 'upgrades' for short."

And that, if you asked Aamu, was the core of the Ascended: they were enhanced. More. Better. Lifted above by virtue of slowly being perfected.

You are the night-time fear
You are the morning when it's clear

ISLA physician, heal thyself Isla smiles as well, understanding Wessex completely in her remarks. A lot had happened both before and after her death, and even if she spent a great deal of time as a unicorn after that (and that's a can of worms left unopened), she'll be spending a long time trying to catch up with events. Her bauble is almost complete when Azrael speaks up, her hands pausing in their crafting to give the child her full attention. She brightens, both at his abilities but also at being called Miss Isla. When had she started to miss the quietly mundane things in life? And was this a chance to finally get some sense of normality back? It certainly feels so. "That's wonderful," she tells them, tilting her head. "You'll have to come to my clinic to show me what you can do, one day." An invitation rather than an insistence, but she is interested.

and the sky was littered with the corpses of stars

Capturing all of Isla’s attention brings an easy smile to their face, their proclamation of being able to heal a bright spot on Azrael’s mind, a thing that they wished to share with the woman. The offer to come and show her what they can do with the healing is bright and their head bobs enthusiastically, dark curls bouncing around their face. “Sure!” They agree, their grin still bright and vibrant. “That would be really nice.” Another option of getting to know their fellow Ascended.

Something that they were quite interested in doing this season.

And with that out of the way, they flash that same grin toward Wessex, content and happy, before bounding back to finish their bauble. All it needed now was a bit of a paint to settle while it dried, hopefully giving it a cracked appearance as they clay underneath dried as well and shifted the exterior of their trinket.

this one night, i saw a million lightyears pass

Azrael

Neos

Look out 'cause here I come
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum

Every-widening eyes looked upon Aamu as the ancient Ascended continued to explain and even demonstrate what was meant by the unexpected word. The fact that unexpected phrase of 'bio-tech' came into this conversation was blowing his mind even more, to the point that he couldn't even register the instinct to flee anymore.

"...would you believe me...if I said you didn't need to show that arm-blade for me to follow your explanation," Neos said, a clear tone of shock in his voice along side the slack-jawed expression on his face. "In fact...I've seen in a different place almost exactly the same kind of technology in play." He glanced away in thought before looking back towards Aamu. "The only clear difference I can see between what I saw elsewhere and here is that those with these upgrades aren't insanely-flashy or show-offish in nature, mercifully."

...I have this distinct feeling you should have said nothing, Antonio.

I know what I'm doing...I think.

I'm not scared to be seen
I make no apologies

This is me

Aamu

Would he believe him? Yes. Aamu has no reason to distrust what he says or has experienced, and though his attention is now mostly focused on his little bird again he does look up to meet Neos's gaze for a moment, and offer him a mellow shrug. He can't fathom other worlds yet, but suspects this man is from one, so at least they're both breaking each other's brains a little bit.

Flashy show-offs? Oh, Aamu could've told him a thing or two about some of the Ascended of the past, but—the Voice was ever a scientist, was she not? Not an artist per se, even if she dabbled in the creative and dreamed bigger than anyone ever had before. But even so, the Ascended are meant to function. They scar badly but their machinery runs ever so smoothly.

"It's not benefited us to be," he merely states, working with his brushes and paints. Turns out Aamu is also a quite decent hobby painter, but far from an artisan. Still, the little bird is cute and energetic, and Aamu is quite happy with how it is coming along. "Still, we are all individuals. I have known quite the garish people in my time."

You are the night-time fear
You are the morning when it's clear