Placeholder [Ignotus Everto] Mine Enemy is Growing Old

Ignotus comes to try to manipulate Minnie in the Asylum

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

[Ignotus Everto] Mine Enemy is Growing Old

Postby Philomena on May 26th, 2013, 2:57 pm

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Last edited by Philomena on July 12th, 2014, 1:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
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[Ignotus Everto] Minnie in the Asylum, With Ignotus 2

Postby Ignotus Everto on July 4th, 2013, 4:57 am

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31st of Summer, 513AV


This was not an ordinary visit. Ignotus Everto was a hard, cold man. His relationships, as they were, were almost always self-serving. Others existed as tools, and tools again. Oh, they were people, certainly, and no doubt had their own cute little lives and goals and dreams. But theirs were mere trifles and petty fantasies. Tools to control the tools. For he alone had true ambition. He alone had the power to bring them to life. He alone had the will to see that nothing got in his way. Let the little people play their little games and fill their little heads with little hopes. He had better things to do!

Ignotus Everto did not have many friends. Never did. Now, of course, he had colleagues, flatterers, comrades, poachers, and, on occasion, someone he could trust. But he never truly connected with anyone. Even his own son he had a confused relationship with- but then, he had never been much of a father, had he? Well, he had perhaps connected once. Twice, even. Possibly thrice. The kindred spirit. The one who saw as far as he. And now...

He did not understand her. He had begun to learn, through logic and deduction, the little things that made her tick, and what would set her off, but he could not fathom why. He knew her martyr-like tendencies, her obsession with Qalaya and Kenabelle Wright, of Gypa and "the Evalin" and Shiress, of literature and insecurity. He knew, but did not understand. He did not understand, and it grated on him like nails on chalkboard.

Ignotus Everto was a wizard. This meant that, among other things, he had devoted his life to understanding. Grasping truth. Comprehending concepts in their entirety. But Philomena lefting he did not understand, and he could not bear it.

He needed to know. That was all. And he had all the time he needed, and a captive audience. He would know.

It was pouring rain outside, and the low rumble of the roof's defiance of it filled the asylum. The sun had set but a bell before, and the Asylum was, slowly, beginning to quiet down.

Outside her cell, Philomena felt a presence.

She had a visitor.

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A thousand thanks to Phoenix for the gorgeous blue frame, and a thousand more to Edreina for her beautiful magic-themed one!

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[Ignotus Everto] Minnie in the Asylum, With Ignotus 2

Postby Philomena on July 12th, 2014, 1:11 am

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It was difficult to tell day and night. There was an approximate clock in the changing of the shifts for the orderlies, but with sleep unpredictable as well, when one awoke, and heard the same guard one heard when one fell asleep, one was left to wonder if the rest was short or very, very long. There was a temptation to simply ignore it honestly - in the grand scheme, it wasn't simply that time was hard to track, it was that it simply didn't matter. But, for Minnie, there was Qalaya, Qalaya and her book. It had to be dated. Truth required time, if possible. She did her best to keep track, and asked the guards when she could.

And what was more, it was the normalcy of it that comforted her. Time passing, in regular, meaningful, orderly rows of numbers. There was still a real world, this way. She was still in Zeltiva, she was still in the world. Somewhere, though she could not see it, there was a sky.

It was dim today - that meant nothing, really, but after a time, one began to notice the slightest changes. It was dark in the cells, here, always, but the texture of the dark seemed to change at times, sometimes as thick and impenetrable as bladderwrack, sometimes a pale almost-light slithering down from the steps she had taken... it was not so long ago! But it seemed so long. This was why time mattered.

It was also quiet.

The quiet, at home had been rare, powerful, priceless. But here, quiet was maddening. With no sight, and no sound, the mind began to whirl, began to wonder if it even existed. Her balance had gone sour here, and when she tried to pace her cell, sometimes she would find herself tipping over, involuntarily. The orderlies said this was normal, and laughed at her when they brought lights.

But the quiet was too still. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her sweaty thighs pressing against her breast, her arms wrapped around all. Still, too still, too still. The silence gnawed at her, it gnawed and gnawed. She had tried talking, before, in moments like this, talking to herself, or pretending there was someone else. This discomfited her, made her feel she really WAS mad. So she sang, softly, very softly, an old song from an opera long ago, one that had played, and flopped in her youth. Light opera, "The Mountain Maiden", something about a milk-maiden in the mountains, in love with a woodsman who was a prince in disguise... and something about a bear. It was hard to remember now. But in the odd way of certain songs, it had lodged in her brain, though she heard it only the once.

"Oh, my darling, my one true love -
I will wait here for you.
I will touch no hand by the paw of my herding dog,
I will wait here for you.

I will wash my fingers in my own milk pail,
To keep them soft and slender and pail,
I will wait here for you, my lover,
I will wait here for you..."

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