Closed Flung Out of Space

[Vanadis]

8th of Summer, 516AV
Stories in the Snow (Library)

Vanadis tapped the point of her chin with the feathery tip of her quill. Chamomile, the page read. She traced the cursive lettering with an index finger. She knew not many people admired books in this day and age, but the konti could appreciate the care taken with the calligraphy. She considered it an art form in and of itself, even if her own was hardly legible in her eyes. Vanadis dipped the quill into the ink bottle and pressed the tip onto the parchment resting beside the book splayed wide in front of her.

Uses. She began to write, the characteristic scratch of quill on parchment joining the others faintly heard behind the shelves of books. For upset stomach, sleeplessness, stress. Her violet eyes glanced at the page, scanning for more vital information. Today was one of her few rare days off and, characteristic of the doctor, she had chosen to study instead of truly relaxing. It had taken much persuasion by her peers to force her out of the clinic and into the famed social life of Avanthal and its Vantha. For all of her years residing here she was still sorely inadequate when it came to telling stories compared to her colorful brethren. But then again, she was a Konti. Soft spoken and sensitive. At least, that was what she'd experienced in Mura. But Vanadis, although not the perfect picture of a Konti, was still a dedicated Healer, with as much trials and tribulations ahead of her as the rest of them.

She moved on to the next bullet point after sketching a rather sad looking daisy on the corner of the page. Best preparations, she continued. Infusions or steeping. Let the plants soak in hot water and ingest through drinking. Vanadis let her hand pause as she glanced up at the sound of a chair dragging back on the hardwood floors.

The smell of paper and old leather was prevalent here, and it felt more like home than any hovel she found herself in. She knew, in a way, that she would always be an outsider, no matter that her father was a Vantha, let alone a Coolwater. His blood ran through her veins and yet she was still graced with the scales and gills of Laviku, and looked the part of a maiden made of snow than any true hot blooded dweller of the Holds.

The doctor gripped the quill tighter at the thought of her father. Wherever he had gone, she only hoped he still drew breath. Her violet gaze returned to the book, turning the page to the next herb on the list. Elderberry.

oocSorry this is quite a boring start!

Common | Vani | Kontinese

[Isaac Iceglaze]

Petch, not now.

Isaac pulled his hood up and speed-walked to the nearest crossway, his face twisted in annoyance, his mind racing to find the easiest means of escape. He stole a glance over his shoulder and turned back, instantly regretting the decision to check.

Two men were walking out of the Coolwater Hold on his right, about 30 feet away. The brawnier one caught the Kelvic’s glimpse and excitedly jabbed the taller man with his elbow. “FrankFrankFrank, look,” he whispered, pointing in Isaac’s direction.
“OW, shyte, I told you stop doing that,” he hissed, rubbing his side, green eyes glaring down at his younger brother’s toothy grin.
“It’s Zac.” They traded knowing glances, their faces lit with wicked delight.

“Hey Meathead, wait up!” Frank called, waving his long, wiry hands, his voice almost singsongy. Isaac pretended oblivion and continued walking as quickly and calmly as possible. He wasn’t in the mood for their stupidity right now. If he stopped and let them get to him, they’d start jabbering away about their latest sexual conquests before finding a way to compel him into doing work for them. The brothers were only ever on land for one or two seasons of the year; otherwise, they’d be out working in the Northern Sea, sailing and catching food for the city. Their time on land was like being on vacation - all the holds cared for them, knowing that their time spent at sea is quite valuable for Avanthal’s survival. So of course, Coolwater was typically known for their lax attitude while off work and their luringly persuasive ability to get what they want.

Isaac was typically fine with helping out. But these guys… he shut his eyes and inwardly groaned at the thought of having to listen to anything they had to say.

He needed to get away, fast. Isaac casually rounded a corner, then bolted straight for the next block, hoping that a left turn at the alley and a climb over the wall would steer them off his trail. He kept running and refused to look back. Tunnel vision kept him from checking to see if anyone else was around, anyone who could later recall the direction he was heading. The Kelvic wasn’t thinking beyond finding a place to hide out for a couple hours before work.

The closest building happened to be the library. Isaac was never a huge fan of reading, but burying himself in a book just happened to sound like a good idea right about now. He lunged towards the wall in front of him and quickly tried to hoist himself up, hand over hand, his fingers gripping the crevices between the stones. A couple slips left him dangling for a second before he managed to haul himself over the edge, tumbling onto the other side. Isaac panted, feeling exhausted. Climbing was far too tough—he figured it would’ve been easier to break through the wall in his bear form, but then reckoned he wasn’t in favour of damaging property. After a couple ticks of rest, the Kelvic continued to jog towards the Stories in the Snow.

——20 chimes later——

...Learning to break the enemy’s resistance without fighting requires efficient, dominant militancy.

Isaac paced the aisle with an open book in his hands. The title caught his eye when he’d first walked in: ‘Success Through Nonviolence: Tips from My Life in the Icewatch’

He licked his index finger and flipped a few pages, unable to keep his focus for too long on one chapter. One must be able to stand in a way that elicits respect and fear. For example, one may stand close to his enemy, tall and straight, towering over them and invading their space. He immediately payed attention to his stature, noticing that he was hunching over his book. The Kelvic straightened up. He flipped a couple more pages and read from the middle of the page:

One should hold himself with an air of extreme confidence. I got very far in precarious situations using this mindset: Not only should one refuse to lose but he must also believe that he has nothing to lose. Do not be afraid to lose. Isaac scrunched his brows and reread the last couple sentences in an attempt to understand what he thought was an odd piece of advice. It felt confusing. Shouldn’t you be prepared for loss? Why put yourself in a situation in which there is a high chance of losing?

One might ask whether loss should be taken so simply. The answer is yes. Loss is an integral part of any situation. It is better to learn how to deal with loss than to learn how to avoid loss. Avoiding loss means avoiding success. The Kelvic took a deep breath and nodded on the exhale. That made sense.

The sound of a chair dragging back on the floors made Isaac look up. Through a gap between the shelves, he saw the back of an ivory-haired woman that he hadn’t noticed previously. She sat alone at a table, seemingly busy studying. Isaac went back to his book. He tried to read the words on the page, but he’d lost his concentration, and was tired of pacing around.

He closed the book and held it in his hand. An amusing idea started to form in his mind... Best way to learn is to practise, right?

Isaac took a moment to compose himself before quietly walking towards the woman he saw earlier. This was so out-of-character for him—he never did things on a whim, randomly, spontaneously—but this book was right. He needed to learn how to deal with loss, with failure, with rejection. Besides, his goal wasn't super risky; if he lost, all he had to do was walk away. Success would come from obedience. Obedience depended on deft delivery.

He approached her from behind, standing straight, shoulders back, feeling his heartbeat begin to speed up, slightly. Here goes nothing. The Kelvic quickly checked for weapons on her form and then placed his free hand on the back of her chair. He kept his voice low and deep, attempting his best at a firm tone,

“You’re in my seat.”

[Vanadis]

Elderberry. She'd written the same word three times on her paper. Vanadis sighed and rubbed her eyes. She wasn't even sure what time it was, but her stomach's unapologetic growling told her it was surely lunch time. But as the konti closed her book and set her quill down, she heard heavy footsteps behind her and the subsequent voice of a man.

"You're in my seat."

The accusation was met with a blink. Vanadis turned to look upon the man, her face belying her momentary confusion. She glanced around her vicinity, as though she was expecting the room to be crowded, but on the contrary, it was bereft of most people. Raising a brow, she glanced back up at the stranger, though imposing he might have been, and looked him right in the eye.

"I don't believe I've seen you sitting here before I arrived," Vanadis told him pointedly, setting her quill down. "There are plenty of other vacant seats available." She gestured around them, almost invitingly. Perhaps it was her konti nature that made her avoid rude retaliations, or perhaps it was the stranger's height and build, a result of a person whose trained all their life by the sword or by the land. If he so wanted to, she could easily be another pile of broken bones in the snow. Vanadis was not a fighter.

But what she was good at was words, at least, she'd like to think so.

"I won't be moving, so perhaps you can sit at this table as well?" She offered.

Common | Kontinese | Vani