Closed Sahovan Beauty [Keene]

[Caesarion]

8th of Summer, 515 AV

He'd taken some time to rest after all of the excursions that came with the beginning of summer. The past seven days had been wildly entertaining, and also wildly catastrophic on his body. On the sixth and the seventh, he only did his daily expected exercises, and nothing more. He fed more into the dogs he'd brought home from the forest, enjoying them with a more reliable setup than a makeshift fire of sticks, branches and res. He'd only made himself comfortable. Of course, when you had a goal, you couldn't dwell in relaxation for long. He had things that needed to be accomplished. He was interested in this thing known as the "judgment", which could apparently make a visitor into an apprentice, an apprentice into a wizard, and a wizard into a master. Maybe it had more functions than even that. He wondered, though, if the judgment could make a slave free - or even just into an apprentice, that was something quite a bit better. Sahova was a decent place to progress as far as magical ability was concerned. Knowing this, he didn't need to leave just yet. If he could actually have freedom, then he could acquire necessary skills with a decent level of autonomy.

Of course, he didn't know if the judgment would allow him freedom. He certainly couldn't ask Telemaran, either, as he'd probably tie him to his bed and hypnotize the thought out of him. The level of autonomy he currently held was enough to seek his future, but any less and he'd be stuck in his current position. So - he had to be hush about his curiosities. This was difficult because he didn't really know anyone in Sahova that he trusted to be discreet. The only person, really, that he believed was perhaps apathetic enough to not whisper of things mentioned to him was probably . . . Keene Ward, the stoic man he met in the spring. Thing was, that was nearly three months ago, and he didn't know the current location of the man or much anything else. He did recall that he was a 'Warden', though, and so he figured with the limited diversity of Sahova's residence that this information by itself would be enough to locate him.

The slave ventured out from his home and wandered through the citadel. No restricted areas, no areas with little population, only large and open ones where he actively avoided the higher ranking members of society and favored only the ones he could overpower. Vox looked around as he did so, trying to see if he could place any guards or find anyone who might know the location of particular Wardens. But . . . then he remembered that everyone here was cold and an asshole, and that they probably wouldn't answer his questions anyway. So - he did the unspeakable and sprung conversation with people in the citadel least likely to cause him trouble when they realized what he was going to be doing to them: exercising hypnosis.

The man subtly made his way over to a young man watching the area. He didn't seem to be a guard or anyone of import, but instead someone really curious for whatever reason. He was a human, not a Nuit, and so he was immediately far more comfortable speaking to him. Vox leaned in and posed the question, quite bluntly, "What are you looking for?" The young human male turned his head and smirked, but inevitably didn't say anything. Instead, he changed the location of his staring from the streets to just Vox, deeply observing him and not looking away - barely blinking. The slave then looked back, emitting Djed from his skin so as to begin the process of hypnosis. "I know you want to tell me," he said. The other man started to chuckle. "I see your collar and your leather braces. I saw the brand on your back, the subtle little "T". You're a slave. I don't want to tell you anything." He turned his head away from Vox, and so Vox sighed. People in this city were such assholes.

He made a point to tell them that, sometimes. So, induced by hypnotism yet again, the strange man experienced the sudden thought of I'm an asshole. His facial expression grew strange for a moment, considering the sudden spontaneous thought was out of character, but by the time he looked to see where the 'measly slave' was, he was gone. Off to, hopefully, find the elusive Warden that would possibly grace him with the knowledge he needed. If he were gentle.

[Keene Ward]

He had not returned to the citadel for some time after his pathetic blunder. It was mostly due to his uncertainty as to whether or not he might be once more welcome within the foreboding stronghold of the undead; however there was a hint of simple reluctance, one founded on the tacit desire to keep himself from repeating his own shortsighted mistakes. In spite of his altered mindset in regards to the stony faced structure that rose to meet him with all the welcome of a grave to the damned, there was nothing changed. The Vestibule, the courtyard, even the Gug Andjak, were all the same. He found it appropriate, as his boots crunched over a clump of bitter, withered grass, that only his own mind had been affected by his actions.

Those within the city had far greater things to occupy their time with than the childish foibles of a creature of flesh and blood, bound by time. It had been an equal amount of foolishness to think that he had had any effect on the day to day operations of Sahova, and that had cost him many uncomfortable nights in the bed of sand he'd crafted for himself in lieu of a proper mattress. His quick shift from what he now knew to be the comfort of the cavern within the depths of Mt. Merlus to the dark and eerily pocked Ravine had left him with little in the way of supplies. His food and belongings had been delivered via golem, but among them had been few things to off him much in the way of luxury. Thus, a small trip to the citadel had already netted him several things to make his stay within his newly assigned domain a far more bearable one.

Backpack filled with various amenities and a mostly unused bedroll tied to the top, he had started to make his way out and back towards where he had been investing nearly all of his time and effort before he was stopped by a familiar (and perhaps even unwanted) grin. The man, as Keene remembered him, was the slave of the Overseer, Vox. He had been interesting enough a season past, and while Keene had felt little need for extraneous socialization, he found that it was perhaps best to hear what the man had to say to him. Telemeran was, he didn't doubt, well aware of his debacle of a judgement. With time to think and consider, Keene had determined that there were times were knowing was far better than remaining pitifully ignorant, and it was possible Vox had information that might serve him well enough.

In regards to the man's greeting, Keene nodded his head, hair slightly shaggier than it had been before. While he still took careful care of himself, haircuts had been something deemed lower in priority when met with Wilhelmina, the spiders, and his precarious housing situation. Having no words to say, Keene simply waited for the other man to speak, as was inevitable if Vox still held to the manner in which he had conducted himself previously.

LedgerBedroll (1 SM), 10x Candle (1 SM)

[Caesarion]

oocI just realized I said 'emitting Res' when using hypnosis, instead of Djed. Brain derp. Also, glad to see you back.

He looked through the Citadel for long enough. Vestibule to Courtyard, Courtyard to Gug Andjak, searching long and perhaps needlessly for the warden that would either present himself by coincidence or never yet appear. He wasn't sure if he was even still in Sahova. It had been a long time since they had spoken, and considering the nature of their previous encounter, the man was surely not going to be entirely interested in Vox's presence. That was understandable. Still, if he saw him, he would do his best to attempt to gain some semblance of favor with Keene. Despite the man's personality being cold, calculating and inevitably dull, the slave knew that he was not dangerous. No - he was the least dangerous person he'd met on Sahova, despite him imagining that he was one of the most powerful mages. He knew that he wasn't the type to simply hurt another person for experimentation or . . . some other cruel thing. He perhaps did not have a good heart, but not a bad one either.

And so he continued to search. When eventually his eyes caught glimpse, he did his best to make his appearance only silently acknowledged. Vox looked different from the last time they had spoken. He'd become more athletic in physique, he wore less pointlessly fancy attire. His role had shifted from spy to warrior, and he had been attempting to grow in power very rapidly. He'd gone out on the daily to practice Reimancy. What he originally considered a 'hobby' had become a lifestyle. While he hadn't yet advanced all too far from his experience a season ago, his change of outlook did result in notable improvement. Altogether he had changed. Sahova changed him. The man made from Ravok - the fanciful fellow with an obsession with words and intrigue - had vanished. Now, he was of much closer mind to someone like Keene, someone he had thought about more than once as a figure of respect. Almost a role-model. A successful human on this forsaken island.

Trying to appear casual, the man relaxed himself before he went to where Keene was. He looked him in the eye and slightly bowed his head out of courtesy, greeting him with a 'hello'. "Good to see you again, Keene," he said. Even though he had no strong feelings either way, he wasn't lying, and the Warden might notice that he seemed genuinely pleased to catch him again with his eyes. This time things were vastly different than before, as well. He was not here for the Overseer, for the Nuit who had shackled him. He was here for himself. Seeking something. Improvement. Knowledge. Everything he was too crippled to imagine when he'd first met Keene. With that in mind, he felt much more confident.

Still, he did take a moment to notice the external details. Keene seemed less maintained than before, which was similar to Caesarion, funny enough. But the Warden seemed . . . almost worn out? Disturbed by something? He couldn't pin the attitude on the face, but something was different. He seemed even less cheerful than the negative levels of cheerfulness he had upon their initial meeting. That was unfortunate. Maybe Vox had been correct in imagining that people on this island really did go insane. It was an inevitability. Keene, despite his emotional and physical strength, had begun to recede in his mental fortitude. Or so he could imagine, though he hoped not, considering this young man might have been the only person in Sahova who would help Vox become Caesarion again. Become free.

One thing he'd maintained with him from the beginning of their knowing of one another was honesty. He told him, when first they spoke, about his motive for seeking him out. Spying on him for Telemaran. He would be truthful again today. "I'm sure you realize I was searching for you. You're observant." He paused for a moment. He needed to think of how to make this sound . . . slightly less far-fetched. "I want to become free," he said bluntly. "I would kill to become free." ...Even moreso. "I realize that your role is the protection of the people of this citadel. Perhaps slaves aren't considered people under your concern. Yet I know that I live and die as everyone else in this world and I can no longer abide being owned." He didn't speak loudly. He spoke calmly, quietly, and without change in expression. His words were colder than before. They didn't have that excessive fragrance to them.

His voice was practically shrilled. A different man presented himself. Caesarion rather than Vox. And he would do anything to change the situation that had consumed him. "Do you know . . . if there's any way?"

[Keene Ward]

Vox was different. While Keene had not cared to remember much about the man in terms of physicality, the voice, the mannerisms, even the natural way in which he stood were changed enough that he did not need to accurately recall what was to see the difference before him. The greeting was frivolous and one that Keene saw no reason to respond to other than to acknowledge Vox's presence by meeting the man's gaze. It seemed the greeting had been discarded prematurely. There was more there than simple, gaudy socialization he'd been expecting. A slight twinge of annoyance pricked at the back of his consciousness, though his face remained as impassive as ever. It had been awhile since he'd spoken to anything that wasn't dead or skittering, which made reading social cues even more difficult than it had been before. Still, business was business, and Keene had no reason not to see what Vox had to ask of him.

He nodded when Vox gave voice to his presumption. In Sahova, people did not seek others out for nothing, and there were never "chance encounters". At the request, however, Keene merely blinked, eyes belying little else but a neutral stare. He didn't know much about slaves, though the basic concept of ownership over possessions wasn't difficult to pass onto living beings in theory. He'd never understood how a creature of free will might be bent to that of another, no matter the leverage held. Still, to ask for freedom was something he didn't even need to consider for a tick. It was a concept, an abstract idea that he certainly didn't possess the ability to bestow upon anyone, including himself. That Vox would kill for his freedom was concerning, though perhaps not quite in Vox's favor. "I know very little about slavery." His voice was quiet, as always, soft and cool. "Or freedom, for that matter."

There wasn't much advice he could offer nor course of action on two subjects he was so unfamiliar with. Freedom to Keene wasn't a state of being, it was simply how things were. One was free to make decisions, or not make them, and face the consequence of action. Beyond that, he wasn't sure how one could become free, or have one's freedom revoked. As far as he was concerned, Vox had used his freedom to seek him out and speak with him. Freedom was, then, already gained. The concept of slavery too foreign for him to make much sense out of, he simply stared back at the expectant gaze that met him. "As a Warden, I protect Sahova, and by extension, those who reside in the citadel." He raised a brow, and while a quizzical display, it hardly lit the grey green eyes that rested beneath it. "I would suggest refraining from murder, if nothing else."

Vox was certainly different, stronger and more confident - the sort of confidence that came with competency rather than gaseous pride -, but it didn't change the obvious difference in ability between the two of them. Whether Vox was still the casual caster he had professed himself to be or not, Keene didn't doubt he would have much issue dispatching the other human. Capabilities aside, however, it would be far more trouble than it was worth to fight the man. For whatever reason, it seemed Vox had it in his mind that his freedom was something he needed back, something worth even his own life. It was baffling, but hardly interesting enough for Keene explore it further without provocation. "If there is a way, you would know it better than I."