Anthological Ruins

"We are only haunted by the things we refuse to accept" - Bridgett Devoue Nikolai had always loved the night sky. Tracing constellations and recalling the tales behind them had always been a fun pastime. Now newly Ascended he found himself enjoying his nights even more. Not having to sleep when the moon was at it's peak meant ample quiet time to read. And so he had found himself wandering the ruins tonight, a book in hand. Tonight's choice was picked at random and it was only as he sat down in the shadow of a broken wall that he read the title. 'An Anthology of Historic Poems'. Huh. He glanced around at the silent ruins. How fitting. Settling in further, he cracked open the first page, a cloud of dust emerging. Briefly wondering just how old this thing was, he dived right in. Quickly losing focus on anything else, he became absorbed in the flow of words from writers past. nikolai "Resilience is born even when we feel like we are dying" - Alex Elle

Ophelia

He is not the only one with a book tonight. After their delightful afternoon hidden away in the library's stacks with Mabel, Ophelia had claimed a book for themself - a journal, really. Empty white pages and fresh binding, snatched and squirreled away in the pocket of their bloodied dress. Wessex had expressed a desire to clothe them in better garments, but it had yet to happen, and admittedly it bothered Ophelia very little. Their father's blood had been a passageway to their own awakening, to becoming Bright. It does not scare them, nor disgust them. In fact it makes their life much easier with how the others part to give Ophelia room whenever they walk by.

They have found that nighttime is the best way to discover their other family members. It is the only hours when their skin does not burn after all. So finding the Ruins occupied is not a damper on their spirit, but an exciting chance for companionship and investigation. Pen in hand and tapping idly, contemplatively, against their pale lips, Ophelia approaches. The words on the spine are still too hard for them to comprehend even with days spent with no need for sleep learning new words with each spare moment. "Hello there. What is it you are reading?" Perhaps he would deign to explain the words to Ophelia, for them to memorize and fold away inside their mind.

it's peaceful in the deep, either way you cannot breathe
no need to pray - no need to speak

"We are only haunted by the things we refuse to accept" - Bridgett Devoue Nikolai glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and at first he was hit with annoyance at being disturbed. But then they came into view and his analyzed the figure before him. They appeared to be around his age and there was a timid air to her. Upon their quiet question and the notebook in their hand, he relaxed. It seemed he wasn't the only one who had sought the quiet ruins for the arts. So instead of biting words, he simply turned the spine so that they could read it. "It's a book of really old poems." Normally that'd be all he said but their clear curiosity made him more vocal. Nikolai was always ready and willing to discuss a book to those who were actually interested "It's a little hard to read, most of the text is written in dialects that have long since lost their use. That and some of the words themselves are no longer used." His tone was reserved but if given closer inspection, there was a hint of excitement. Nikolai loved a challenge and this particular tome was providing. He'd even recently begun to consider studying linguistics, his love of written words and puzzles pulling him towards the art. Feeling generous, he nodded towards the notebook. "You here to write? It's a nice and quiet place to think." And given how big the area was, if she settled down to work she'd likely be some distance from him. nikolai "Resilience is born even when we feel like we are dying" - Alex Elle

Ophelia

Ophelia obligingly wanders closer as he closes the binding slightly, allowing them to read it. The second word is still too complex for them, but he is quick to explain within moments, and a pleased small smile pulls at their lips. "I've never read poetry," they admit brightly, voice ever-soft like a priestess' whisper, unafraid to face their failings. "Strange how language has changed over time. Humans are so weak, and yet endeavor on. Curious." Noting it lightly, as if it's not close to a prejudiced statement, but they'd seen the slight points in Nikolai's mouth as he spoke and wasn't truly afraid of him disagreeing.

Glancing down at the notebook as if they'd forgotten it, Ophelia smiles serenely. "Yes, I hope so. I am still learning to read and write, but I am hoping to spread positive word of The Voice to counter the negativity I have already encountered."

it's peaceful in the deep, either way you cannot breathe
no need to pray - no need to speak

Nikolai

We are only haunted by the things we refuse to accept
-Bridgett Devoue

Nikolia pauses, trying to think of how to describe poetry. "It's like thoughts written out. A bit disorganized, less put together then what people normally say or write. It can also be almost musical, written like a song." He explained as best as he could. "It's worth reading at least once. But I'd suggest starting with a more modern book. Easier to read."

Nikolai tries not to furrow his brow at their clear devotion. It's a bit overwhelming. He may be an Ascended, loyal to the Voice. But even he's not that... fanatically devout. It's a bit off-putting. "I see." He says after a pause, really not sure how to respond. "Good luck with learning though." He pauses awkwardly. "You newly Ascended?"

Resilience is born even when we feel like we are dying
-Alex Elle

Ophelia

Ophelia hums pleasantly, and moves a little closer, though Nikolai's body language keeps them from coming too close. They are quite adept at reading others, and won't encroach on territory they are not welcome to. "Would you read some for me maybe?" No harm in asking, even if the answer turns out to be a rejection of the idea. At least then they would not be distracting him with conversation, and he could read while satisfying Ophelia's curiosity at the same time.

Whatever they have said to make him pull away, Ophelia can't discern, but rejection slides off their back like water off a duck's feathers. "Yes, quite recently. Only a season. Yourself?" Their head tilts in a birdlike manner, curious and sincere, ghostly pale blue eyes large in their delicate face even as a warm smile brightens their countenance.

it's peaceful in the deep, either way you cannot breathe
no need to pray - no need to speak

Nikolai

We are only haunted by the things we refuse to accept
-Bridgett Devoue

Nikolai blinks for a moment. "You want to hear it?" He eyed them, looking for any traces of mockery. When he found none he gave a hesitant nod, patting the space beside him. "You can sit down if you want." He offered a bit shyly, making room so that they could see the book if and when they sat down. If they really wanted to hear, and was still learning to read, seeing the words might help.  

Hearing that they too had only recently Ascended, made Nikolai nod. "I'm new too. A little less then a season for me though." Assuming Ophelia sat down, Nikolai would then turn to one of the more simply-worded poems and begin to read it.

"This one is called 'Invictus'. It's apparently by a man who was named William Ernest Henley". He started, clearing his throat before diving in.

"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul."

Resilience is born even when we feel like we are dying
-Alex Elle

Ophelia

“Yes, please,” they clarify serenely, folding their hands eagerly around the spine of their journal. Ghostlike eyes never blinking, having no need to; a habit they’d had well before their Ascension, but only worsened now. It somehow doesn’t look too strange. Perhaps it’s the general warmth of their expression. It only warms further as Nikolai offers a seat, and they flutter like a small bird into the space, folds of their dress bunching like preserved flower petals.

Though they would normally respond to the information he has freely shared, they don’t have a chance before Nikolai is finding a poem and beginning to read. It is like a spell comes over them, drawing them into the ebb and flow of his voice and holding them there, the words rolling overhead like waves. Though their eyes follow the pattern of words alongside his speech, it is a distant thing. Instead there is imagery and color, swallowing them down and coating their insides with paint-covered hands. It makes them shiver.

They don’t need to breathe, but it comes out in a shudder reflexively, habitually, when Nikolai finishes. Their head tips, and eyes flutter closed, soaking in the meaning in the aftermath.

“You have a beautiful voice,” is the awed murmur they manage eventually, eyes opening. Glancing down at the page, their head tilts curiously at it. “I wonder if Ascended ever made poetry. Do you write any?”

it's peaceful in the deep, either way you cannot breathe
no need to pray - no need to speak

Nikolai

We are only haunted by the things we refuse to accept
-Bridgett Devoue

A sudden flush spreads across Nikolai's face at the compliment. "O...Oh.. Thank you." He'd never considered his voice to be beautiful or soothing, or any sort of thing worthy of admiration. It had always sounded average to him. But perhaps everyone's voice sounds such to themselves.

Clearing his throat, Nikolai addreses Ophelia's other question. "There are poetry books written by Ascended in the Atheneum. And.. yes. Sometimes." Glancing at the stars, the Ascended sighed. "Poetry is sometimes easier to write then normal sentences. You can just put your thoughts down, no matter how scrambled or incomplete, and turn it into something beautiful." A small smile comes to his lips as he glances at his new family member. "If you're learning, it might be a fun way to practice writing. And a fun way to journal too."

Nikolai was shocked at himself. He was holding a decent, civil conversation with someone he'd just met. Not only that, but he was being kind and offering advice. It was completely beyond his normal comfort zone but Ophelia's easy demeanor set him at ease. Their eagerness to hear and discuss poetry, a topic he was passionate about, only added to it.

Resilience is born even when we feel like we are dying
-Alex Elle