Solo Of Significance

[Meville Brightshade]

The nineteenth day of Fall, 513 AV.

I can't explain why, exactly, I've come to this sort of conclusion, but it seems I have. I believe Tomas is getting himself into trouble with all this magical business, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to do something about it. Just the other day, I was out strolling with Minerva when that woman showed up again! I still haven't the foggiest idea what she was talking about, but she was raving mad and shouting about Tomas this and that. I confess, I don't really understand very much about magic. It's all very mysterious and wonderful to me, but whenever Tomas tries to explain something, bless his heart, I can't help but feel like a rock trying to comprehend being air. That little grin he always gives me when I confess to remaining completely ignorant... He's such a charming man. A tru

Oh dear, I've gone off-topic yet again. I have to keep reminding myself to stay on task! It's been getting more and more difficult lately. I've been having more headaches than usual as well. Tomas. Magic. Yes, I believe he's doing something dangerous. I've made up my mind to confront him about it tonight. Confront. That sounds like such a violent word! I'm worried about him. About us. I just want to try to understand what's going on. Not only that, but I'm a bit scared. That woman keeps coming around and shouting all the time. And there's those two men. And that crying child. It's all so mysterious, but I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing... Oh my. I'm starting to get even more worried thinking about it!

I know this is supposed to be a relaxing way to remember everything that's floating around in this airy head of mine, but sometimes I really do think it just makes things worse! I'll try to think of something else in the meantime while I wait for Tomas to return. I've heard there's a travelling circus in town! I'm not entirely sure what that is, to be honest, so I've been contemplating my attendance... Perhaps Tomas and I will go later tonight after we've discussed things. That might be fun!

Meville set his mother's journal down on his bed, letting his eyes stare straight ahead at the wall before him. His face was wet, glistening in the light that fell from the window in his room. A small bead of water traveled from the corner of his eye, down his nose, and hung off the tip, quivering. Slowly, Meville lifted his hand to wipe away the moisture, first addressing the moist tip of the nose, then the rest of his face. His fingers on his other hand tapped steadily on the open pages of the book before him, filling the quiet room with the metronome of flesh against paper. He inhaled, adding a sniffing noise to the beat as he blinked back more tears. Meville? Are you all right?" He closed the book, letting his hand remain upon the worn leather cover as drew in another breath, this one smaller than the last. "Oh yes. Yes, I'm fine." Meville let out a muffle scream, moving his hands to cover his mouth prior to making any sort of noise. The sound continued for a good chime before it died away, and as it did so, he fell back on to his bed, his hands still covering his mouth.

"Ssh, it's alright." His hands slid down his face to lie next to his head upon the comforter. "Ssh ssh..." He closed his eyes, letting the gentle sounds of air rushing through pursed lips lull him back from hysteria. His breathing slowed, returning to a normal state as the moisture of his eyes followed suit. Lying still and quite for a good while, Meville finally allowed himself to roll over on his side and open his eyes with a groggy groan. The wall before him was plain wooden paneling, nothing fancy. It held a soft glow where the light bounced off of it, but otherwise it was a dark, comforting mahogany. "Meville?"

"Hm?" He scratched an itch on his head, rolling onto his other side to look at the empty room before him. The softly diffused light gave a gentle illumination to the sparsely furnished interior he had familiarized himself with after the death of his father. "Hm?" He let the hand that had relieved his itchiness to stay nestled in the mess of his hair. "Meville, I'm worried." Another tear made its way down his cheek. The sensation was a bit surprising, as the liquid had appeared with little warning. "Worried? About what?" He sniffed again, feeling the mucus in his nose leap back farther into the recesses of his sinuses. "I... I don't remember. But I need to talk to Tomas about it."

He rolled back onto his back, glaring up at the wooden boards that comprised the majority of the ceiling's landscape. "Father? Would you like to me fetch him for you?" He shook his head side to side, his glare still fixed on a slightly warped section of one of the boards above him. "No no, we're going to the circus." Another couple tears fell down the creases of his eyes as he blinked. "The circus?"

He coughed, sitting up to better handle the convulsions of his body. Three good shakes later, Meville sat upon his bed, legs crossed, back hunched, and eyes fixed upon the closed journal before him. "Yes! They're only in town for a short while." His hand slowly extended towards the book, but hesitated halfway there. Oh? When are you going?" The hand retracted, wrapping itself and the arm it was attached to around his midriff. "We... Can't go. Can't. We can't..." His other hand shot up to cover his mouth as he screamed again. This time, his yell lasted several chimes. Occasionally it was interrupted so that he might draw breath, but it only ended once his voice had become hoarse enough that it could no longer pass for a scream.

His eyes were closed once more as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cool leather of the journal, his hands on either side to support a portion of his weight. "They're dying, you know." Meville shook slightly, quivering beneath the weight of some visible force that pressed itself down upon his wobbling arms. "He's killing them. I don't know why, but it's important. Important." He clenched his teeth then, grinding them in frustration as he pushed back against gravity, propelling himself onto his back, bouncing slightly as the bed before him gave way and returned to its proper shape. A slight giggle escaped him as he pulled his knees up to his chest and rocked from side to side. "It's important."

In his wild act prior, the journal had fallen to the floor, it's pages glowing white in the soft light that illuminated them. Among the black handwriting that evenly ran about the pages was a large dark, rusty blotch. Upon closer inspection, there were several other smaller markings of the same color. The page was slightly wrinkled, as if it had been damaged by water. The handwriting too was much larger, wobbly, that was typical for Alira's script. All over the two pages was one word scrawled over and over again. The same word Meville continued to repeat over and over again in varying decibels as he rocked: Important.

Common | Vani

[Meville Brightshade]

He woke with a start, his body covered in cool perspiration as his chest rose and fell in the rhythm of softening panic. There was a slight pressure behind his eyes, only slightly alleviated by clumsy massaging. Meville groaned, forcing himself to sit upright in his bed as the headache reminded him it wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon. Blinking rapidly to fight back the intense, sensory overload of sight, his vision finally came to rest upon the open journal of his mother. The particular place the pages were opened to was one of the curious sections that contained no writing at all. He'd fallen asleep reading it, finally passing into the realm of dreams at the beginning of one of the many blank pages.

Several chimes passed as he stared at the smooth blank off-white, eyes scrunched slightly in concentration. There was something wrong about them. He frowned, the pain behind his eyes subsiding to a dull throb that gave way to the maelstrom in his brain. The empty pages were supposed to filled with words... Or a word. A specific word. He chewed on his lower lip, remaining still in his hunched over sitting position, legs wrapped in his blankets. Unable to definitively place what word exactly should be continually scrawled across the journal's missing entries, Meville let out a little puff of frustrated air before reaching across and lightly closing the leather cover over the enigma that was emptiness.

"No use fretting over snowfall."

Gently massaging his temples in response to a slightly more uncomfortable pounding in his head, Meville extricated his entangled limbs from the clutches of his comforter, setting them gently down on the cool wood of the floor. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine at the sudden introduction of such a drastic change in temperature. The light streaming through the window gave Meville a rough idea of the time: much later than it should be. The realization was enough to get Meville completely out of bed, though in a mild, languid sort of manner so as not to upset the now resting headache. Shuffling around his bed to get to the dresser, Meville lazily scratched his lower back as he let his astral arm slip off of his other shoulder. Using the invisible limb, he opened the drawers, grabbing his desired dress for the day: his cotton shirt and pants. Socks were in the bottom drawer.

Once everything was assembled, Meville - too tired to use his customary actions - let his other arm slip of so he could put everything on using projection. He'd been doing it for the last couple weeks or so, less for practice and more because he simply could. His semi-daily training regimens appeared to have been paying off, as he was able to keep his arms unattached for longer and longer amounts of time without worrying too much about damage upon connection. Of course, he'd messed up a few times and had had some minor twitches and jerks because of it. For the most part though, he was getting a better hang of his magic, which was really the whole point of the exercises in the first place, and he was pleased to be seeing results.

Dressed and almost ready for what was left of the day, Meville shambled over to the door, bumping against it with his limp shoulder as his astral arm collided with the wall. "Petch." Pulling his arms back so they hovered around where his shoulders were, he was able to get the door open and passed through, making sure to shut it and knock upon the wood once it clicked into place. His blue eyes quickly spotted his boots lying next to the door that lead into the outside world, but he chose to head over to his icebox, lifting the lid to peer into its contents. Nothing that looked incredibly appetizing to his slightly nauseated stomach met his gaze, so he let the lid fall with a tink, turning to head towards his boots.

He let his arms pull the boots over to him, putting them on and chewing on his lower lip as he performed the more difficult task of lacing them. The dexterity needed to maneuver the pesky strings into a knot wasn't quite natural to his invisible finger yet, thus it require a bit more effort than usual to complete the union of his laces into a secure bow. After a couple chimes, the knots were satisfactory enough, allowing Meville to reattach his limbs, using his usual motions of putting on a glove now that he was feeling slightly less lethargic. Once everything was in working order, Meville pulled open the door, stepping out into the afternoon sun as its refracted dazzle bounced off of the sparkling snow around him. "Mittens."

Common | Vani