[Temple of Ionu] Fare Thee Well

[Ifran]

5th Summer, 512 A.V. Summer was here, and he no longer felt cold. It wasn't the dry, furnace heat of Ahnatep, but it was hot. He enjoyed that, and even the humid breezes coming off the Suvan Sea from time to time. But his thoughts were always turning back to Ahnatep. He had been gone from his home for almost a year and a half, and while he had learned a great deal from the Crooked Playhouse, there was no sign from Ionu, and it was time to return. His bags were packed and he was ready to go, but he went first to the Temple of Ionu in his traveling clothes, those he had worn to cross the deserts of Eyktol, the grasslands of Cyphrus, and the waters of the Suvan Sea to arrive here all that time ago. The edges of the temple were crumbling, which reminded him of the ancient grandeur of Ahnatep. Inside, the air was cool, limned with the scent of incense. It was empty, or so it seemed. Things were rarely as they appeared in Alvadas, but he went up and knelt before the dais. After a moment, he began to sing. It was a song without proper words, complex and shifting, difficult. He thought it a fitting paean for Ionu. While his body and most of his mind was focused on his voice, what remained, the core of him, prayed: I have tried to know You, O Tricksome One, in the time I have spent in Your city. Perhaps You know me, but perhaps not. I am Ifran of the House of the North Winds, from Ahnatep, Jewel of Eyktol. I am an artist, a performer, and I came here to know You, and have spent some time at the Crooked Playhouse with others of Your favored. It is possible that You have come to me in some guise I did not recognize, and I suppose I know You better now than I did from Ahnatep, though it will take me more time and the perspective of travel and home to understand that better. I am leaving soon to return home, to take what I have learned and put it into practice on the boards of the Royet Theatre or, if they will not have me back, I intend to produce a spectacle for my Esteemed Grandfather that might earn me the resources to start my own theater. Whether You ever reveal Yourself to me, it will be dedicated to You, as will all my performances. It may not be the Fabled Inverted, but it will be. Someday. Somehow. I promise this. I have been a stranger in a strange land here, and I thank You for watching over me and for the opportunities I have been afforded. Bless me. He genuflected, voice still trembling out of his body, then singing, and then going silent. For a few moments, he just existed in the resonance of those last notes, still humming in the air. Though he was anxious to return, he thought he might miss a few things about Alvadas. Eventually.

[Fallacy]

The sound of the song resonated throughout the chapel. The strange song coming from the man praying to Ionu hanged in the air unnaturally, the sound bouncing off the walls, and becoming unnaturally loud. There was nothing more beautiful than the song dedicated to the trickster god. It brought much attention to the Eypharian, heads turned, and the priests looked at him. One man in particular came up to him, gave the Eypharian a friendly pat on the shoulder, ”Brother,” he started, ”That was the most beautiful song Ive heard in a long while” the man complimented Ifran. ”To what does the Temple owe such talent?” he asked. The man was dressed in a myriad of colors, black trousers, but the shirt seemed to be not so adamant on what color it wanted to be. With every blink, even if the Eypharian looked away the shirt would change to another color. The hair of the man was wild, shoulder length, but seemed to suit his rather rugged looking face. The hand retraced as the man waited for a reply “Armen,” he introduced himself causally, ”Been in Alvadas all my life.”

[Ifran]

Ifran of the House of the North Winds had learned humility in Alvadas, or at least how to ape it. When the man he supposed was a priest came to him, touched him, and spoke to him, he merely rose, nodded, and answered his questions. "Thank you, Armen," he replied politely. "I have been training almost all my life. The time for my departure from Alvadas fast approaches, and I wanted to thank Ionu for the lessons I have learned while living in its City. Of course, all the work we do at the Crooked Playhouse is dedicated to the Trickster God, but I felt moved to pay a more personal tribute. Sometimes it is difficult to pick out a voice from a chorus, a face from a stage picture. I wanted to be noticed, perhaps, or acknowledged before I go. "But that is, I realize, an unenlightened desire, so I leave my song as a gift, and hope my curiosity did not offend."

[Fallacy]

The priest listened, nodding when appropriate, but his face seemed to distort as if he didn’t quite like what he was hearing. Perhaps he had his doubts in the words of man. He shook his head when he finished, a silence falling between them, his gaze breaking from the proud Eypharian as he looked to the middle of the Temple to the place dedicated to preaching the teachings of Ionu. ”No.” he started, still staring into that particular space at the Temple, ”You did not offend.” he said looking over the Temple, the people within it, ”It just bothers me when you say you haven’t been noticed.” he said, ”How do you know that you haven’t been picked out of the crowd already?” the priest asked. ”Ionu is a fickle being. Never one to do things in a conventional way.” he said looking back at Ifran, ”Perhaps you have just overlooked yourself? It is easy to do in a city like this.” he told him, ”Be lost in all its wonders, to fall for the sleight of hand when there is such splendor around every corner. What if it is not Ionu who has overlooked you, but you who overlooked yourself? Tell me what all did you learn from being in Alvadas? You say you are leaving, but it seems you are leaving empty handed with whatever you sought from this place unfulfilled. Everything isn’t what it seems in Alvadas, but the rest can be said about the rest of the world. Outside Alvadas there are different types of Illusions.” The priest hoped that he could help the man realize just what he was seeking. Not recognition. No, it couldn’t be as simple as that.

[Ifran]

"Perhaps I misspoke," he allowed. "Common is not my first language." He paused to consider his words. "It is true. I do not know whether or not I have been noticed. I do not know anything, except that in life, I am like one of those cave dwellers watching a shadow play on the wall. What my senses can apprehend are just shadows of the real things, distorted, ephemeral. But I have learned the ways of Alvad theater from Master Fabel and the others in the Crooked Playhouse, although I had hoped to be taken up by the Inverted of legend. I have learned about illusion and reality, but I have not learned any answers, only how to ask ever more complicated questions, none of which make the truth any clearer. "I came most of all to meet Ionu, to discourse with it. And perhaps it has noticed me -- I do not know the extent of a god's wisdom or attention -- and perhaps there has been a wordless dialogue between us, but I am afraid that I do not speak this language with any fluency. If it is teaching me, then I am back in that cave with no light at all, bumping into things and relying upon my less sophisticated senses, the ones with which I have the least experience. "We are not a religious people for the most part despite our divine bloodline," he admitted. "But I would have liked to be marked, that way to know that Ionu's attention follows me. I might have spoken to Master Fabel, I know, but we have only a cool, professional relationship. I might have come here earlier, but I am not comfortable laying my soul bare." His lips tightened for a moment, a calculated expression that spoke volumes, and was both a tool of his trade and true to boot.

[Fallacy]

The man listened nodding, one such comment of Ifrans caught his attention, ”You see, that is the point of everything.” he said, ”You said it yourself, if he is teaching you then you are stumbling in the dark, in that cave, but yet you do not question it.” A silence fell between them. After a chime or two, ”Perhaps it is your inability to question what is and what might be, the inability to look beyond that dark cave is what is holding you back?’ he asked him lacing his fingers together, ”Or perhaps the cave is only dark because you make it so?” he asked smiling at him, ”This world, as Ionu teaches it, is all about perception. One’s understanding of reality might not be the same as another’s. That is why we have scholars, no? To debate and question and argue and bicker, but what if everyone was right?” he laughed, ”But at the same time, also wrong.” he pointed at him, ”This world is made up of all sorts of feelings, some tactical some not. Though it is how each individual reacts to these feelings, these impulses of the world that make them who they are. It drives them. Though what if it all was in their head? That is what it comes down to, right? Each individuals perception of the world… different, because everyone thinks differently.” ”Perhaps… Perhaps we are not so different after all, and what is all in our head, truly is in our head and doesn’t exist? If we are all perceiving the same reality how can we each be so different?” he went on but then stopped, looking at him, ”What if there is no world? But if there wasn’t a world, then how are we talking, how are we here?” he paced the pews, waving a hand for the Eypharian to follow him, ”Ionu is a gracious deity in that we are allowed to perceive the world however we wish it to be. In Alvadas, nothing is impossible and there is no constant law. In Alvadas, the city itself teaches you to question and challenges you to experience everything and nothing at the same time.” He walked deeper into the Temple, past the wooden structure of which the priests would preach at, and in the back there was a wooden door. Hand pressing against it, he opened it, and looked behind him to see if he was being followed, ”You can come too. There is something I want to show you.” he said, going through the open portal. Ifran was being lead through the door, but when he would follow the priest, he would not find himself in the Temple of Ionu anymore, but… back at home, in the streets of Ahnatep. OOCPlease bump me next time I leave you hanging like this T.T

[Ifran]

Ifran listened to the priest, whose argument was much the same as he had heard from others speaking of the god of illusions. The Eypharian thought his own metaphor more telling, but, of course, he had the superiority complex of his race. It became an epistemological argument in the end, and he knew a losing game when he saw one. He would not take his frustrations out on this helpful priest, nor even show his frustration as that was beneath a man of his station. But when the priest bade him follow, he did without question. Perhaps Alvadas wanted once more to pull the wool over his eyes, but that was all right; one more lesson before he went home. And then he was home, walking through a wooden door to Ahnatep. It could have been magic, but more likely it was illusion. All the same, it was was impressive. He still wondered if the city dug through a man's memories to paint the world over in the image of the imagination, of memory. Perhaps that was what the priest was getting at in his way. "Impressive," he said, looking around.

OOCWill do. And sorry my response took so long!