Closed Art and its Forms

Seeds are planted into minds. (Volanaro pls)

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

Art and its Forms

Postby Gwin on February 23rd, 2014, 5:08 pm

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Winter 87, 513 AV

As temperatures rose and the sea winds warmed up, the ways and paths Gwin explored the city on changed too. Had she stayed near the sea and lingered around the docks before, she dared to delve deeper into streets now and approach its heart, the University of Zeltiva.

The Scholar’s Forum fascinated her in particular, the proud white columns and their message calling to the artist in her. The day she discovered them, she couldn’t help but flutter closer, carried by green and turquoise butterfly wings, and sink down on the steps leading down to the square designed for debating, comparing wit and intelligence. As she sat, mild sunlight dancing on blond waves, pale skin and grassy fur, she slowly realized what the people standing and sitting around the square were doing.

Leaning back, she observed them for a while. Young men and women, usually in simple clothing, were talking to one another, some stood together in groups, some in pairs, some gave a speech to a handful of listeners arranged around their person. All of them had open faces with clear eyes and most accompanied their words with gestures and expressive body language. Those young scholars featured a subtle light in their eyes, the lines of their faces and their hands. They were oblivious to it themselves, but to a visitor such as Gwin it became fairly obvious after a moment. She sighed. Would she acquire that kind of light herself if she registered for classes?

It was the light of knowledge and intelligence, not following instinct, but studious intelligence. Logic and reason. Probably not, she decided, answering her previous question. Yet it was strangely comforting to watch those young people discuss that which was dear to them and the concepts their lives revolved around.

Then a boy near her stood up from the steps, cleared his throat and started to speak to four comrades scattered in a loose circle around him. “No, my friends, I do believe magic is not only a science, but also a form of art.” Gwin turned a little, wrapping her tail around her body, and listened with interest. If anything, the word ‘art’ had captured her attention. “May I remind you, for example, of the beautiful and vibrant colors visible to an Aurist or the magnificent ice statues and water plays a Reimancer is capable of? Yes, we learn the theory, Djed and everything, but that isn’t what it’s all about. If we limit it to that aspect, we are like the blind man trying to appreciate the colors of a painting. I think it is our duty to the ancient legacy of magic to see beyond.” There he paused for a moment, giving the others a chance to digest and comment. With a simple gesture, he pushed strands of chestnut hair out of pale eyes and smoothed the front of his blue tunic.
Last edited by Gwin on April 10th, 2014, 11:11 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Art and its Forms

Postby Volanaro on February 25th, 2014, 4:45 am

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The Scholar's Forum was truly an astounding place. Even from the distance from the focus of conversation, where magnificent white pillars stood tall and powerful, he could hear the buzz of conversation, eyes of thundercloud drinking in the sight of a gathering of scholars. As he approached, the being heard them begin to speak about a topic dear to his heart. Magic. A brave soul stood above the rest, taking the stand to address the rest of the forum. The young man was likely no more than eighteen years old, yet he spoke with a fire in his heart, the conviction behind his voice resonating with the pale blue of his eyes. Volanaro walked towards the group of students, his hood lowered, though the rest stared at him with suspicious eyes. It was understandable, given his status as an apparently much younger person, though he stood before them, coughing weakly as vibrant gray orbs cast towards the group as a whole. He opened his mouth to speak, though before he could, another member of the group attempted to refute his statement.

"
You say that now, but what of the past horrors magic has unleashed? What of the pain that it causes? Animated golems destroying property and people, fire and earth unleashed by the hands of Reimancers to assert their power over the world?! It is a legacy, indeed, but one that was abandoned with great reason! It is a danger that we are not meant to understand!"

Volanaro quirked a brow as he looked between the two scholars, the other three of the group nearly silent, and as Volanaro listened, his gaze turned from them to a strange being that seemed to be watching in the distance. She seemed to be interested in the debate, but unwilling to participate, perhaps? Obviously, she was not a student. She wasn't even human, by all indication. Some sort of half-creature that Volanaro had perhaps seen in distant past, but it didn't matter. He waved a hand, encouraging her to approach before Volanaro himself participated in the discussion, eager to perpetuate the flames of debate.

First, he looked to the one who had spoken of magic being an art form, an opinion that Volanaro himself shared, "
You and your friend, comrade, have valid points. Very much so. There is a beauty in magic, and a power in it that makes it something to be both admired and feared. But, to you," his gaze fixated upon the other man, vibrant gray eyes assessing the other person before he said, "I ask a question. Will you always cower in the face of fear. Will you allow it to consume you, to destroy you, and to remove what is the beauty and magnificence of an unhindered soul, simply because of what has transpired in a past that you could not possibly understand as opposed to what will occur in a future that you could have a chance at creating?"

The words brought curiosity to the eyes and mouths of both boys, the one that Volanaro was now addressing about to open his mouth, to either refute or chastise, but Volanaro did not allow him the chance, "
Magic, my friend, is the way for a mortal soul to achieve what only the divines themselves can understand. It is our key, our right given to us by the Gods themselves. Would you refuse such a gift? How dare you." The boy's fingers pressed to the older boy's chest, chastising him for his foolish, close-minded opinion before Volanaro himself set off in a separate direction, sitting himself down in the shade of a nearby tree, hoping to catch the gaze of the creature that he had seen before he had decided to correct the misinformed opinion of a mortal.

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Art and its Forms

Postby Gwin on February 25th, 2014, 2:50 pm

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Gwin straightened where she was sitting and followed the discussion with growing interest. Magic, a thing of wonder and mystery, but also a danger to be feared, a force to be respected. Her travels hadn’t led her near or into circles of magic before, but she’d often wondered where its fascination lay. Now that student was declaring it a form of art and art the Akvatari appreciated. Moreover, it called out to them as a thing lacking any sense just like their race itself existed without a true beginning. No deity claimed them, thus they were alone.

She watched as a child approached the small group and broke the circle of colleagues. It was hard to say whether the boy was another student or an outsider as he spoke with a clarity and decisive precision that hinted at his experience. In fact, he seemed less like a child, more like a short adult. His appearance was little more than short-lived deception, a veil lifted as soon as he opened his mouth. How strange. When he waved at her, she nodded in acknowledgment, but didn’t flap her wings to come closer.

After saying his part, the boy left the students. Definitely an outsider, whether he was part of the student body or not. Gwin, her mind wrapped around concepts and ideas of art more than magic, couldn’t quite leave his words as they were. Familiar voices came up again as the two students started discussing the tension between beautiful gift and destructive force.

The Akvatari, however, took to the air and flitted over to the shady spot under the tree. Their eyes met briefly, his colorless orbs boring into hers. He radiated something that made her uneasy, but the words stuck in her throat needed a listener. Carefully, she landed in reasonable distance, close enough to converse, yet respecting privacy. His body was unusually thin and his skin white.

Gwin took in all that, although it didn’t particularly interest her. “I noticed you speak with the weight of experience, more so those you addressed. Still, I’d like to add an afterthought to your words if you allow… The concept of art doesn’t include shaping the future, not directly at least. It exists for the moment, a thing of transitory joy or sudden clarity of mind. Is that as true for magic as it is for other art forms?”
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Art and its Forms

Postby Volanaro on February 27th, 2014, 8:15 pm

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Art did not include the shaping of the future?
What an incomplete viewpoint.The... creature spoke with a sort of curiosity in her eye, though Volanaro could not tell whether it was just a medium of expressing her own opinion, or whether it was the manifestation of her own desire for a discussion. The latter seemed unlikely, as she had not moved to speak with the rest of the students. No... This is a desire for single conversation. Volanaro allowed himself nearly a chime of silence as his gaze left the creature in search of inspiration.

And how it flowed! Inspiration came from the very place they were in. The forum, built in an age before even Volanaro walked the earth. Built to stand the test of time, yet... there was a beauty in them that was present, as well. Though, the restoration of the pillars that made up the place was what interested him. At least, in the context of this particular conversation. The Nuit's lips curled into a smile, vibrant eyes of thundercloud assessing his new conversational partner, the question of what she was in his eyes, yet he did not express it. Not yet.

"
The concept of art, in it of itself, is meant to inspire awe and instill the concept of beauty in those that see it. One can easily ask a living artist if their intention is to shape the future, but for those that have passed? It is impossible to tell. But, look around us, if you will..."

His words were spoken slowly, as he began to do so again, his gaze directed towards the pillars of the forum once more. "
This very place is an example of how past artwork is shaping modern opinion. This place was far grander before the Valterrian, I'm sure, but now? It is an echo. Past artwork, regardless of intent or purpose, shapes the future by its mere existence. This place is an ideal example of this, instlling the ideas of higher learning and the pursuit of the abstract concept of knowledge, despite the age that we live in. Artwork... exists for an eternity, be it in physical representation or one's own imagination."

The boy Nuit then considered her question, his gray eyes boring into hers once again before he said, "
That question... cannot be understood by one that does not practice magic. The implementation of djed into magic brings... feeling. Power. Joy. Lust. But, these are mere words. The representation of feeling. The way one feels when casting is... beyond this."

The boy Nuit's tone was almost unsure in this, though it was clear that it was not out of experience. The feeling simply was... inexplicable.
How does one explain the feeling of magic? It's... almost impossible. The theory is simple enough, but the actual act requires... experience.

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Art and its Forms

Postby Gwin on February 28th, 2014, 5:50 pm

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Before saying anything, the boy smiled at her. Gwin didn’t return it, but she noticed with surprise that it included a sort of superior aura and knowledge. He believed himself to be better than her, although he probably counted half her age! That feeling of wrong she’d felt before was growing stronger.

The Akvatari listened to his words carefully, observing, trying not to miss anything. She didn’t look around when he suggested it. Instead she gathered words suited for replying and explaining. “I agree… which is why I said ‘not directly’. For example, if you hurt someone with magic, you shape their future. Perhaps they meet someone they wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t hurt them. Perhaps that meeting inspires them to go down a road they wouldn’t even have considered otherwise. That is what I mean. Art is a mere shadow of the act.” She paused to take a deep breath. “If what you mean is reality, art is a dream of reality. It shapes us because it gives ideas.” She cocked her head, gazing into the distance. Perhaps he meant it to be more immediate than the act, but the opposite was just as true.

As he spoke of magic, Gwin returned her attention to the words spoken in front of her. “Words are never adequate to explain feeling… so it’s true, I do not understand. It seems like the ecstasy of creating art, but different…. raw, maybe.” There she hesitated, trying to hold back the next words, but spitting them out all the same. Only her voice faded into a whisper. “If magic is truly a form of art… I would like to understand. If that is true, it speaks to me as an artist.”

Art held infinite fascination, but at the same time rumors and dangers of magic terrified the Akvatari. If there only was a way to wield it in peace and without any risks… Still, she knew nothing about it which was precisely why she’d addressed him.
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Art and its Forms

Postby Volanaro on April 8th, 2014, 3:07 am

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Apologies!I'm so sorry this took so long! T.T Vol escaped me for the longest time... I think I've got a better handle on him now, though.
A frown materialized across the Nuit's features as he noticed the... thing's lack of warmth. He didn't like it! He had given her an explanation, he had answered her questions, and most of all, he had given her the grace of his OWN smile, yet she did nothing to return the favour! Her words were nothing but an echo of his own, an assessment made of nothing but shallow thought and overly-philosophical presentation of an idea that was better suited in a less complicated expression. She spoke with the practiced, tired tone of a mortal with nothing more than passing experience.

She thought she could contribute to a discussion revolving around art? What experience did she present? She brought nothing to the table other than passing conversation which steadily grew more and more tiring. He was not amused. Lips pursed as the Nuit stepped forward, then parting as an idea sprung to mind. She wanted to understand what magic was, then she spoke to the right little Nuit to learn. Volanaro was by no means ashamed of his magic. Nor was he intimidated by it. He used it artfully, whimsically, though rarely in public did he use it to its true extent. But, that extent was better left to the night and isolation required to allow the glorious screams that his toys sounded.

Their screams! They were always so happy to play with Volanaro once he brought them into the fun. They yelled and begged it to end, but wasn't that how fun always was? Too much fun can even bring tears to the eyes. It wasn't until the red came out, the wonderful, vibrant paint of human life came out and manifested that Volanaro truly reaped what he sowed. Res for blood was an even trade, most times, right?

And then, best of all, their screams were met with his own! Gleeful, joyous screams of the game that he so enjoyed playing. Magic was a toy! an expression of the most glorious form of art! It was such a pity that his playmates never agreed with him... Sometimes, they didn't even survive. It was so sad when that happened. If tears could be shed from the corpse's eyes, he would, but instead, he moved on to find a new toy. But! Not today. He had no desire to make this sea creature into his toy. He instead, wanted to teach her what it was to experience true joy. Magic was a pleasure that only the privileged and the entitled deserved to have, or those that earned it. Volanaro purchased his eternal toys with the blessing the Animator, an enigma of so many centuries, had given him.

Vibrant laughter escaped the Nuit's lips as he moved even closer to the woman, then he passed her by, settling down on the floor just a few feet away, Volanaro's gaze fixated upon her as he declared his intent. "Magic... speaks to you? That's akin to saying you understand it, missy. Magic speaks to ME. It plays with me, re-assures me. It whispers sweetly in my ear, telling me it wants to play more. Magic is..."

The boy stopped, pulling at the very fabric of his soul, coaxing the precious djed that he so adored to move from within. It rippled at the tips of his fingers, crimson gas flowing from his palms as an unnecessary breath heaved the Nuit's chest, a calm sigh escaping his lips just before the pleasure set in. The sensation rippled across his sign, moving from his vertebrae and to his face and limbs, the slightest of twitches moving his lips, parting them from their laughter and into a grin as the gas coalesced, taking shape into that of a liquid. It condensed, the crimson liquid reminiscent of darkened blood before he willed it to change.

Change. It was sudden, the transmutation triggered with the single thought. Water. It flowed from his mind, escaping his lips in a slow, drawn out whisper as the vast majority of the Res turned to liquid water, transparent, but tainted with traces of crimson, bits of the Res that Volanaro kept behind in order to encourage the second and more useful aspect of Reimancy. Magnetism kept the water in place, the liquid mass rippling, the effect clearly measured as the water separated into four bulbous globes, each seven inches in diameter, vibrant and alive. They rippled with each breath that the Nuit mimed in order to keep the illusion of his being a living person in place.

"This... is art. Creation, manifestation. Known as Transmutation in the trade of a Reimancer. It is the pinnacle of sentient advancement. For if we can create with our souls, then just how much MORE can we create with the entire world! Our souls are limited in their capacity to produce djed, yet... so much can be done with it. The world, however, has so, SO much more. It is our right. No... our responsibility to learn how to and moreover, revel in the fact that we control creation. This is art! Beyond that of silly scrawlings on paper. Silly buildings set in place by hands. This is the pinnacle of existence."


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Art and its Forms

Postby Gwin on April 10th, 2014, 11:46 am

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Suddenly the boy changed. Gwin’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she tried to take in, to understand that fresh aspect. It seemed to assault her. Although he laughed, it was no innocent sound of happiness, but far deeper and darker than that. Out of all the people she’d met on journeys, Gwin had come to recognize the ones that meant trouble. That one looked like a child, but didn’t behave like an innocent.

His words attacked her. When he approached, her wings trembled with an instinct to flee, but he merely passed her to highlight his speech. She wanted to cut through it with words of her own, ghosts of emotion, or music. Instead she stayed silent and content with observing that strange creature. He probably wasn’t a boy, only appeared as one to her eye. Perhaps it was divine illusion or mortal magic or a little bit of both… but the Akvatari knew too little about either. It irritated her. She’d come with the hunger of the explorer, a thirst for experience and knowledge, yet she still knew nothing. Did the experience she longed for include putting herself into dangerous situations? Would she understand better if she didn’t run away from him?

Those were the thoughts rushing through Gwin’s head while and after he spoke. Then something happened that robbed her of all doubts and questions. As she watched, something came out of his fingertips, hovering in the air, something transparent and crimson, before adopting the texture of water and separating into four droplets of equal size. Was it really water? Before she knew it, Gwin extended a hand and hesitated. Would he allow her to touch his creation?

For creation it was. After witnessing the act, she could only agree with his words, however bizarre his vocabulary. When he’d finished, Gwin spoke slowly and softly, hoping not to rouse his temper again that seemed so unpredictable to her. “I see… this can only be grasped after witnessing its act of creation itself. It is a marvelous sight indeed, marvelous enough to rule the world someday. I’ve heard about certain dangers and side effects though. Why isn’t it practiced and accepted more widely? I dare to suggest only few would share the opinion you just voiced and I don’t understand.”

Unpredictable or not, he had to be tried in his conviction. If he believed in his words, he wished to spread the use of magic. Various possibilities ran through Gwin’s thoughts. Oh, she wanted to seize the opportunity, yet doubts remained.
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Art and its Forms

Postby Aoren on June 30th, 2014, 1:53 pm

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Riddled With Rewards
Gwin

Experience
Skill XP Earned
Observation + 2 EXP
Rhetoric + 3 EXP
Philosophy + 2 EXP
Logic +1 EXP






Lores
Lore Earned
Location: The Scholar’s Forum
Art Theory: Of Clarity and Inspiration
Art Theory: The Dream That Inspires Reality
Djed Theory: Magic, A Shadow of An Act
The Boy Scholar: A Reimancer Who Is Not What He Seems


Volanaro

Experience
Skill XP Earned
Rhetoric + 2 EXP
Observation + 2 EXP
Philosophy + 3 EXP
Reimancy +1 EXP










Lores
Lore Earned
Location: The Scholar’s Forum
Rhetoric: Speaking With Eloquence Through Experience
Philosophy: Magic, The Divine Gift to Mortals
Observational Insight: The Grandeur of The Scholar’s Forum
Art Theory: To Awe and Inspire
Djed Theory: The Emotions of Magic
Djed Theory: The Height of Our Souls


Notes :
I have no points in Socialization because you weren't socializing, you were debating which falls under a stream of rhetorical conversation.

If you have comments, questions or concerns please approach me at your earliest convenience. Don't forget to edit/delete your request in the request thread!
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