Completed [Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

A visit to Ionu's temple brings more than just peace of mind.

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Considered one of the most mysterious cities in Mizahar, Alvadas is called The City of Illusions. It is the home of Ionu and the notorious Inverted. This city sits on one of the main crossroads through The Region of Kalea.

[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 3rd, 2016, 11:33 pm

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91st of Fall, 516 AV
Dusk

Something had changed in the city of illusions. Something Aislyn had noticed since the beginning of the season, but hadn’t truly thought hard about until the entire season had withered away. Albeit, something had changed nearly every season in the city of illusions, but this was a specific change. A change that had a distinct air of moving on.

Once upon a time, Aislyn had thought the events of the Door had been left where they had started, in the winter season.
Evidently, she had been wrong.
Deep down the illusionist had known full well that there was no way Alvadas would rejuvenate so quickly, given the longevity of the warning signs that had appeared prior to the winter apocalypse. Seasons before anything dead actually began rising, Alvadas had known what was to come. And seasons after, it had still showed signs of what had occurred. There was no official address of what had gone on, no explanation. Just assumptions and rumors. In the spring, there was quiet, an almost air of rushed silence that had stiffled any sort of rumour from really growing into anything more than what it was- a rumor.
But once the spring had faded into summer, Alvadas spoke loudly, as if the tape had been ripped off the mouth of those forced into silence.

Aislyn had always been one to take long walks about the city. ‘Maya’ was quite the one to go unnoticed in a crowd above the streets, and ‘Thief’ was at home beneath the city, in the darker whispers of the Underground. Both sides of the Alvad coin had spoken the same story every day of the summer. Betrayal. Backstabbing. Attacks. Mistreatment. Confusion. Blame, most on the immigrants, some on the Speaker, a few on Ionu themselves. And just like the rumours, the summer streets had often ended in dead ends. Abrupt and unexplained. Just like everything else that season. It was frustrating. No matter how hard the artist had looked, she held no power. No magic, no connections, not a speaker, not a listener, not a clue as to what was going on. Then fall had dawned, and once again Aislyn found her questions unanswered. But ‘unanswered’ held a different connotation now.

‘Unanswered’ had been chaotic, frustrating; confusing. Now it was peaceful, like the city had laid its dead to rest and moved on with the living. And as the city moved on, the civilians moved on too. Even when the calm ended, every event of the fall seemed joyfully chaotic. The Alvads were in on the joke this time, and were laughing away the nights with the city right beside them.
Yet the whole thing felt like Aislyn was watching through forty feet of glass.

Her curiosity had manifested itself in the form of vexation- not only at life but at Alvadas, her fellow Alvads, and occasionally Ionu, too. Three seasons later and she knew nothing, despite her best efforts. She grew resentful. Unsatisfied. And as with whenever Aislyn found herself unsatisfied, she visited the Temple of Ionu. The day was for Ionu. Not for her art, nor her worries, nor her obsession with the unknown, but for Ionu.

On her escapade to the temple, Aislyn carried very little with her. All she had was a book she had earlier purchased from the bazaar in the hopes of finding something to distract herself with should she receive no relief in her troubles from Ionu. The contents didn’t particularly matter, all that mattered was that it had some sort of basic entertainment value Aislyn could take something from. The only reason the specific book had caught her eye was because of the bright red string that kept it sealed. A string that was now being weaved incessantly between the woman’s fingers.

It had become a hobby, of sorts. Carrying about a bit of string to wind between her fingers as she walked, just as something to do. She had done such a thing when she was younger, mainly while Thief as something to do with the ribbons that Maya often wore, since no visual trait between the two personas could be too similar, after all. But the tick had reemerged lately, most likely due to how much stress was involved in everyday life. Paranoia, suspicion, the whole nine yards of a shoddy mental landscape. The emersion also probably had something to do with the fact that Aislyn no longer had enough hair to tie back in a ribbon, and she had only just cleaned up her abode well enough to find the dusty box filled with scraps fabric and string now purposeless. Of course, this was not one of her ribbons, but that just made it all the better to fiddle with.
It was unfamiliar, and that made it interesting.

If only every situation could be approached with that sort of thinking.

[817]
Last edited by Aislyn Leavold on November 6th, 2016, 10:19 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 4th, 2016, 1:06 am

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Aislyn had started out her walk taking backstreets, before those had inevitably led to a heaping pile of nowhere. Then, larger roads, weaving through the city with an uncomfortable amount of people packing within them. In a way, the bustling squares were reminiscent of the summer. Even as the days chilled, there were still outliers that had warm, sun-filled noons that attracted every Alvad in the city to the great outdoors. Everywhere seemed hot, humid, and stuffed with people. And people were not exactly something Aislyn liked. But alleyways ended in walls and the rooftops were too high to reach for the moment, so she had no other choice. She was tempted to block out the chatter around her, instead listening to the rhythmic sound of her feet on the ground, but chose otherwise in the hope of overhearing something useful for once. It was only when Alvadas deposited her on the steps of the Temple of Ionu did she break the listening trance.

Outside the Temple, the illusionist stood. It had always been a quiet, sacred place. A place of silent worship and appreciation for time alone. Now, it was anything but. The unity of the season had clear effects, and the crowds at the temple were one of them. In addition to the coming season change, the festivities regarding the return of the miners still ongoing. There had even been a wine-filled ruckus incited by a shop Aislyn had never heard of before. Of course, such debauchery never failed to leave after parties in varying states of disarray in public places. Namely, and unfortunately, the Temple of the Ionu.

Ionu, accept my apologies for my haste. I wish only for peace; peace of mind, peace from worry, peace and quiet… Any you may be gracious enough to offer. My mind is clouded with fret, and I am still fearful to use your mark. I fear I am failing you, my deity, and I ask only for your guidance in these times.

Staring at the mossy walls, for a moment the woman convinced herself she couldn’t even feel Ionu inside. Of course, that wasn’t true; she could feel Ionu in every step she took, every breath that entered her lungs. But for a lone, solitary moment, it was almost as if the infiltration of outsiders had smothered the presence of her favored deity. Inside the temple was the same, bustling with messages about everything but the deity of illusions. People celebrating, rejoicing, deciding a place of worship was the best place to finish their drinks. As she walked through the large hall of the temple, Aislyn sighed. There was nothing to be done about anything, it seemed. All she could do was make the most of what she had.
It seemed she’d be reading that book after all.

There were very few options that were both close to the Temple but also far away from the crowd, and those options whittled down to a place that was almost always entirely devoid of people. The belltower.

It was not difficult to gain entrance to the belltower, considering the openness of the temple as a whole. And no one questioned your intentions if you looked like you knew what you were doing. Which Aislyn certainly did. The bell tower was rarely used, after all, unless the Temple decided to disappear from view. In that case, a young boy would scurry up the steps in order to ring a bell to alert those who most likely had absolutely no idea what the bell was for. Of course, this tradition meant the bell tower was left unlocked. It was easy enough to find a way inside the belltower once Aislyn found the entrance.

Inside the tower was not a lot more than a set of stairs and a lot of cobwebs. The stairs led upward, presumably up to where the bell was kept. Gingerly, the artist swept a hand over the first stair, before eventually giving up and sitting atop the fine level of dust that settled on the stone. In the distance there was the sound of laughter and conversation, but aside from that, it was quiet. Perfect.
Opening the weathered book, Aislyn began to read.

[704]
Last edited by Aislyn Leavold on November 5th, 2016, 4:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 5th, 2016, 4:31 pm

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Fall 15 500 AV
My Ellis,

We set sail today. You should find this letter to be the first of many, if any of the gods favour me in the slightest. By the time you read this I will have already been gone away with the winds, a goodbye on my lips and your kiss on my cheek. My only mistress is the boat on which I sail, my only friends the wind and the waves. But rest assured, though my body may sleep with the sea, my heart belongs to you.
A crew of misfits accompanies me, with every talent furthering our success. I will miss you, I am sure, but the day’s work is never done. Our first stop will Kenash, which, though I know it will not please you, I promise I will be safe. I am free for a reason, and I do not plan to let a stop in a slave-holding city derail from that. We dock in a fortnight’s time, and I assure you I will be back before the dawn of a new year. We have the whole world to travel yet, and this is only the beginning.
May Laviku do me well.

Your love,
Sawyer


The book appeared to be comprised of pages upon pages of correspondence, stuck in in a fairly decent chronological order. It didn’t even appear to have any proper entries, considering the thing called itself a journal. Everything seemed to be from the point of view of this Sawyer, though, and that was all Aislyn really needed. Any replies that came were never recorded, but Aislyn from what could be inferred, there weren’t many replies to record regardless.

The edges of each letter were tattered and torn, evidence of the wear time had enforced upon them. Some were stained with water, some crumpled. From a quick flip through the pages to come, it became clear to Aislyn that some were damaged beyond repair. It was sad, in a way. Communication was so fickle; every letter sent was a shot in the dark- a blind guess- at whether or not the message would ever arrive. That was where faith came into play, she supposed.


Fall 31 500 AV
Beloved,

Everytime I depart from a dock on these trips I think about the same things. Why leave home when the home can simply come with me? Why let myself be brought back constantly by the pull of a city I barely see? You could come with me, my love. Come with me away from the constraints of solid ground and into the great adventure of Laviku’s realm. It would kill all the most troublesome birds with just one stone- a stone thrown by, perhaps, a ‘yes’?
I do wish I saw you more often. There’s plenty of room on the boat, away from the boring details of everyday tribulations for just a season or two. I promise you, it’s not nearly as frightful as you make it seem. The ocean is vast and open, and it bridges gaps like no other force can. If you should just join me, see how wonderful the seas can be, perhaps we can find a way to leave this city behind forever. You, my love, are the only reason I ever return. We can travel Mizahar for as long as we can, then retire on some coastal city somewhere. An old fish-catcher, I’ll be. Syliras, perhaps, or maybe someplace quieter. I fancy finding our own city all to ourselves, some forgotten old place where no one will disturb us. Weather-worn treasure hunters, we’d be. Strike rich and die the next day, how about it? Adventure awaits, my darling. All it waits on is you.

With great hopes and greater love,
Sawyer


Each note was written in an elegant script, each ‘i’ carefully dotted and ‘t’ meticulously crossed. The spaces between words was large, doubling the size of the messages to the point where a paragraph spanned the whole page. There was emphasis on the script that connoted how madly in love the author must have been with the recipient. The words of praise were expanded, the cursive even more pronounced. Aislyn didn't particularly care for it. As the exaggerations grew on, the book began to feel the weight of a diary, rather than a collection of letters. But still, the illusionist needed entertainment. Unsubtle entertainment as it was.

Momentarily breaking from her reading, Aislyn pulled the loose ribbon between her fingers as she read, the orange-red colour gliding smoothly. The fabric was in rather good condition- only slightly frayed- considering its apparent age. The colour was nice, too. Vermillion, or a reluctant scarlet. It reminded her of the plants her mother used to bring home, when she was just a child. Brightly hued red flowers for her garden, or green herbs for cooking. She’d point to each individual petal of the things and ask her daughter to describe the shade down to the tint of the shadow that fell upon it. That was how she had learned many things back then- through her mother. She comprehended colours through flowers, with each growth as unique as the Alvads that picked them.
By now, Aislyn’s mind was full of colour. Raspberry was pinker than ruby, but rose was brighter. Maroon was dark and bloody, while crimson was the colour of dresses and foreign jewels. Wine was near purple, while puce was near brown. Everything had a colour, whether it be red or green or gold, colours she learned to name by the time her childhood had withered away. Her youth had been so vibrant; where everything seemed bright and alive. The world was kind, and naïvety was a blessing. It was a world where blood was just a shade of red and fire akin to honey-gold. Her world now might have lost those colours, but it had gained new ones in another way. Another more fantastic, enigmatic kind of way. Dangerous colours, with silver, gilded sheens that hid darker blacks and blues below.

But they were colours all the same.

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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 5th, 2016, 5:25 pm

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Fall 36 500 AV
My light,

I know you fear the sea, but really, what danger is the sea to you? In our younger days we swam so often in the Suvan, what difference would it make if we were a bit farther from shore? There are so many things to do, if only you were beside me. This boat and the waters that float it will always be my second love, as my love for you is stronger than any current. We could save up for a ship all our own, just big enough for the two of us and the invitation to the sea. We could spend the days floating away, just staring at the sky as the wind took us to realms of Mizahar we may only see once. There’s endless possibilities, my love, if only you join me.
Kenash has come and gone, Riverfall next on our maps. I’ll bring you something made of the finest gems, a souvenir of my travels. I know you love those. Something to match that suit you always wear. Blue, or perhaps maybe red.
My Ellis, how I do wish you’d write back. I send a letter every time we make landfall, yet I have no way to hear back. You worry me sometimes, when I cannot ever hear your response. Letters are never truly sealed, you know, and how I long to hear your voice. I know you don’t find the enjoyment of the quill that I do, but it would be so lovely to hear from you. Perhaps you could send your letters in advance, so as they arrive in the city as I come aboard. You were always the smart one, I, as always, have complete faith. All I want is to hear from you. I do miss you so.

With love,
Sawyer


‘Ellis’ was a rather picky adventurer, it seemed. In hindsight, from what Aislyn was reading the couple appeared to have very little in common. The names of the places ‘Sawyer’ mentioned ranged from vaguely familiar to completely unknown. Syliras she knew, and Riverfall brought up bitter memories of the warnings Kuvarakh had once given her. It was strange to think of him now- Kuvarakh. He was so long gone, yet there were things he left in his wake that never quite went away. Phobius was one such thing, Aislyn’s work with charcoal another. There were many things that had been begun by the man, yet now the woman was wary of his name.

Fall 58 500 AV
My sun and stars,

My only hope is that you think of all the things we could do if you were not so far away. This boat may be my second love, but you will always be my first. We rest in Riverfall for now, setting sail for yet another outpost in three days time, once the crew has properly refreshed themselves. Our next trip will be the longest yet, more than half a season on the water. The weather has been calm thus far, the waves kind. I can only pray that this trend continues throughout our journey. I will long to write to you throughout our trip, and I can only hope you send letters for me to collect once I arrive in Lhavit. That would be the greatest wish I could make upon Zintilla’s stars before I enter into her city. It will be the hardest stretch yet, but I will get through it thinking of you. You do light my way, Ellis. You and you alone are my beacon in the dark.

May the Gods be with you,
Sawyer


Lhavit. Aislyn had heard that name before. In a letter, tucked away within her first notebook from more than a year and a half before. A letter Aislyn had received by accident, if she remembered correctly. A letter that- gods know what had possessed her- Aislyn had responded to, in search of more information. Perhaps her correspondence had gone astray as the original letter had, or perhaps the author just didn’t see it fit to reply. Either way, that was the first and last time Aislyn heard of ‘Lhavit’, and it left much up to the imagination.

Fall 91 500 AV
My lifeblood,

It is with great sadness in my heart that I write to you today. The season change is upon us, according to my calendars, yet the movement is not met with celebration. I write this letter prematurely, in the hopes it will be sent once we make land. However, I now fear no more of my letters will reach you, for now or forever. An infestation of mice have invaded our foodstock, cutting our rations to half of what we had. Twenty days out from Lhavit and we are starving ourselves to survive. I think of nothing but this hunger, but in my dreams I once again lay with you, our stomachs full and our minds content. I believe it is my hope of once again being with you that keeps me strong, keeps me going. I love you.

Achingly,
Sawyer


Glancing upon the timestamp, Aislyn found the date to be sixteen years old, to the day. Five-hundred years after Valterrian, where upon the day this stranger had condemned themselves to death Aislyn would have been six years old. A child, with no idea what would become of her. In a way, that begged the question. Mizahar was no safe land; there was so much going on outside of the bubble Alvadas resided in. No matter what, there were secrets Aislyn might never be privy to. Who would die that day? Who would be born? Who would have the greatest day of their life, and who the worst? When Aislyn’s own end came, what would the world be doing?
Perhaps most pressingly, would anyone care?

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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 5th, 2016, 6:42 pm

Image
Winter 22 500 AV
Dearest Ellis,

We have made it to Lhavit. Two of our crew entered Dira’s realm in the past fortnight, their stomachs too empty and their will too weak. We ran about the deck on needle-thin legs as the shining city came into sight, and no sooner were we docked than we were feasting, our prayers gone out to every god that would receive us that we had made it to land. I understand your fear of the sea now, but I only hope that helps you understand me as well. All I long for is your presence, to help me be stronger. I am always stronger with you, strengthened by my love. If only you felt that too.

After we had ravaged the stock of the nearest shopkeeper, I was approached by a strange man asking me about my travels. I suppose I have the look of the sea, but he seemed to recognize me as a sailor immediately. I told him of all the stories I had, since my very first outing as a wee one. I even told him of you. I’m not sure what it was about the man, but he seemed so easy to speak with, so confident and warm. He invited me to his home, where I write to you from now. Our crew have stationed themselves in various inns for the night, a plan of action to be written off at a later date, once we have recovered more from what happened at sea.

With newfound hope,
Sawyer


There was not a terrible lot to be said about Aislyn’s opinion of this ‘Sawyer’. Quite obviously a fool, but endearing, in a fool’s way. There was even less to be said of ‘Ellis’, who didn’t herself appear to have much to say at all.

Winter 24 500 AV
My Syna,

The man and I have a peculiar agreement now. I run errands for him in exchange for food and housing, while my crew continue to pay lax amounts of gold sitting in inns with far less luxurious circumstance. ‘Until you go back on the sea’, he says. I am not sure when that will be. It’s strange, he has such a powerful figure, yet he just appears to be a simple man. I feel compelled to do as he says, as if I were a child doing chores under the command of something greater. In his presence I gain his confidence, like he has projected his very being upon me. It is relaxing, in a most peculiar way. To not have to worry for myself, to simply be content in what happens, no matter the consequence. I suppose that may be the city, though. Lhavit is peaceful, a lovely change of pace from the chaos of Alvadas. Oh, it may not be as interesting, but it certainly is pretty.
This trip has most definitely taken a turn for the best. I feel simply glorious, and I do wish you could be here to experience this right beside me. That is all that I miss in this new city, with its new people and new trials. I miss you, my love. If only you were with me.

Your Leth,
Sawyer


From the way he chose his words, ‘Sawyer’ certainly appeared to be an Alvad, though not of the same cut as Aislyn. Lhavit- a pretty city, lacking illusions and, most likely, flavour. After all, where was the variety if everything was always the same? A black and white city, with black and white people, not a shade of grey or colour to be seen. That was how all cities appeared, really, when compared with the jewel that was Alvadas.

Winter 30 500 AV
My darling,

The man does more than just house me now. He has taught me things, too. He tells me of his God, a deity by the name of Sagallius. A man of puppets, who pulls things- people, animals, objects- by guiding their strings. He describes him like a mentor, a guide to lost souls that need the help of something greater. He provides control in chaos, assistance in misery. He is to this man as this man is to me. A saving grace for the lost souls, a genius that has used his talents to lead many to prosper. I wish you could hear the way he speaks! His words are pungent with images of a truly good soul in a cloud of darkness. I am sure the man has taken a liking to me now, his words of praise ever sweet on my ears. I always look forward to his sermons, his passion evident in the way he moves like he’s conducting his own little puppet show. Truly a sight to behold.
I have not heard from the rest of my crew since I last wrote to you. I searched for them at the inn to find them all missing. I try not to worry, as I am assured they wouldn’t leave without me. The puppet man calms my fretfulness. Even still, I do miss you.
Until the next letter, my love.

Contently,
Sawyer


Pausing in her reading, Aislyn mused over the passage she had passed once again. This was interesting. The illusionist heard little of gods other than Ionu, and certainly not to the degree she had seen now. She had read about this Sagallius once, in a book a long while ago. A man that had ascended to godhood of his own will and nothing else, taking the domain of puppetry with him. That had been the extent of Aislyn’s knowledge of the subject, upon which she had sat for two years until the name once again came to the forefront of her mind. Now the same interest she had achieved before came forward. It wasn’t a sort of interest she could explain, either. The topic of a man and his puppets and drive for power was just something rather fascinating, inexplicably so.

Winter 43 500 AV
Dear Ellis,

I learn more about my new God every moment I spend in the presence of the Puppet Man. His words are so smooth, his gait so lovely. If only you could meet him. I find myself growing rather fond of this man, a man who so kindly took me in off the streets, gave me food and clothing and all I could ever want, then taught me as his pupil about the most wonderful things. I know not of how I have failed to find out about this Sagallius sooner. He is smart, as smart as you, my dear. He triumphs not by the strength of force but by the strength of speech. I learn so much, now. This is why I always ask for you to travel with me, dear. There is something so impersonal about simply writing these things down. In some instances, you must simply experience it yourself to truly understand.

Yours truly,
Sawyer


Though ‘Sawyer’ certainly seemed to be a fool, there was something peculiar about the way the Puppet Man’s God appeared- even through written text. The idea of minimizing weaknesses was always something core within the woman, and this new God seemed like a representation of those ideals. There was nothing physically imposing about the way Sagallius was described, no glorious depictions of strength or sheer force used to rally supporters. From what Aislyn had known about him prior, he had ascended to Godhood through the namesake of his domain- manipulation.

Perhaps this journal wouldn’t be so dull after all.

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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 5th, 2016, 7:13 pm

Image
Winter 51 500 AV
To Ellis,

I do wish you weren’t so stubborn sometimes. I have found something new in Lhavit, with the Puppet Man and all that he knows. If only you would write back, respond to my letters and tell me you’ll come see me. We could have travelled together, Ellis, through the difficult times and the prospering ones. We could have watched each other’s backs in Kenash, bartered for goods in Riverfall. You could have supported me when the seas were rough and I would have done the same to you. We would have loved each other, forever and always on the seas and off, if only you came with me. If only you wrote back to me, if only you came to Lhavit. Instead you are so far away, a lifetime away from your place beside me. Beside me, Ellis. We could prosper. But I suppose I can withhold hope that you will renounce your simpleness and finally see that I was right.
I believe I have found where I belong, Ellis, and perhaps you belong here too.

Sincerely,
Sawyer


If something hadn’t seemed off before, it was most certainly off now. There weren’t many pages left, now, apparently due to the fact that the journal was filled not with letters, but mostly with a number of empty pages that had grown to separate entries. At first the correspondence had been in close in proximity to each other, but by now handfuls upon handfuls of pages separated each message. Considering the nature of the letters, the book would have been the journal of ‘Ellis’, but even then no reason could be made for the fact that there was no commentary as the relationship between the two inevitably declined.

Winter 68 500 AV
Ellis,

I have told the Puppet Man everything, and I believe what he has said on the matter is correct. You don’t trust me, Ellis, not enough to come with me nor enough to write back. Is it that we’ve grown too far apart, or perhaps you’ve taken a lover in the time I’ve been away? I see that our Cheva marks mean nothing to you, nor my letters, nor my gifts. The Puppet Man has opened my eyes, and I’ve found a new beginning with him. A new chance, a new opportunity, a new life. A life without your expectations, and without the weight of your overhanging cloud. I gave you my everything, Ellis, and now I see that none of them truly mattered to you. I won’t waste your time with letters any longer; you will not hear from me again.

Until death do us part,
Sawyer


The clear irony of the situation was almost laughable; surely, there must have been some error in communication between the two, what else was there to explain how things had gone so wrong? Sawyer was a hapless dullard with ideals far too lofty, Ellis so passive as to allow a marriage to go to waste all for the sake of being too apathetic to pick up a quill and return correspondence. Such a story never failed to amuse Aislyn with the extent that fools would go for ‘love’. Though utter devotion met with utter silence was not exactly what the woman would call a love story. The gullibility, the choices Aislyn herself would have never made; perhaps it was hindsight. Or perhaps it was common sense.
Grievances aside, there were parts and pieces of the journal that were rather intriguing. Namely, this ‘Sagallius’ that was mentioned over and over again. It seemed trivial, but in an almost obvious way Aislyn got the impression that Sagallius was a god that reveled in the art of interfering, in a way she found almost reminiscent of her own favoured deity.

Ionu never hesitated to impede any given Alvad’s progress at any time of day, be it positively or negatively. An illusion floating around in an inconvenient manor or an unhelpful reshuffling of the city at just the wrong time was never an uncommon occurrence in the city of illusions. Yet Ionu themselves only very rarely manifested personally, the cloud of mystery surrounding the deity evidence of that. If one thought hard enough about it, there was no tangible proof that Ionu was anything more than an illusion at all. Perhaps Ionu was Alvadas in spirit, an example of a city that had grown to have power, sentience, and personality. Perhaps Ionu was a person, whom had ascended to Godhood through some other, exciting act of will. Perhaps the world would never know anything about Ionu, or the illusions of Alvadas, and perhaps the world was never meant to know. Yet Aislyn trusted her God with all her being, for it was Ionu that had really made her into what she had become.
She believed Ionu over everything, trusted Ionu despite everything, and followed Ionu through everything.

The real question was, did that make her any different than the fools?

[831]
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Aislyn Leavold
Just an illusion.
 
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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Aislyn Leavold on November 5th, 2016, 7:55 pm

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When the story was done and the book was closed, Aislyn still had much to think about. She stood up, stretching out her various appendages after the long time spent still. After that, the woman languidly dusted herself off, leaving the belltower exactly as she had found it, barring perhaps a bit of missing dust on the steps. Opening the door to leave brought her to the realization that things had quieted down quite a bit by now, the festivities that had been long overdue an end finally ceasing as Syna took her leave. The light had dipped below the sky, the world left in a shroud of darkness that was nicely peaceful in the newfound quiet. The was, of course, still the occasional post-drunken clamour from an unspecified direction, but much less than what had gone on earlier.

Walking back towards the main temple, Aislyn found herself met with the familiar comfort of the place where her deity’s power was most potent. In the center of the echoing, open room was the preacher’s stand, where presumably a sermon would eventually be served. In truth, Aislyn had never found the appeal. Throughout her years, the idea of attending the temple for nothing other than to listen to someone else speak at her about her deity was never all that appealing. She understood the work of the head priest, of course, just found his position rather superfluous.
With all due respect, of course.

Now, however, the stand stood empty, the temple rather barren considering the chaos that had gone on just under a bell earlier. Situating herself behind a pillar, out of view of both the front and back doors within the building. Once again, she let herself come into a slightly less taunt frame of mind. Even still, she had trouble relaxing fully. Though she visited the temple often, and more often than not nothing out of the ordinary occurred, she still could not shake the paranoia of being in a place publicly accessible as well as out in the open. So, with her hands and legs folded, she tried to pour her anxieties into some sort of prayer. For clarity, for assurance, for peace. But within that peace, her mind drifted back to the journal, to what she had read.

Aislyn felt almost dirty; impure. To think about a god in the midst of a prayer to another one entirely was unthinkable.

Yet her mind wandered.

Her prayer ended muddled. The concept of this Sagallius was appealing, but the question was in whether it was right to dedicate time to another deity. Aislyn often had few qualms with her moral choices, but this was an exception. Her morals came from self-preservation, or rather, the preservation of the image that most people believed her ‘self’ to be. But Ionu was not one of such people. Ionu had granted her the very power that had created that self; had time and time again reassured her that her faith in the power of illusions was not misplaced. Ionu would always be her first and foremost God; the question resided in whether the deity of illusions would take offense to her interest in a second.

Getting up from her position, Aislyn placed a hand against the cool stone of the pillar she had hidden against, as if it were possible to reach her deity through contact with the building that held their name. With a few words in passing, she left the temple alone, her mind no less troubled than when she had walked in. As the chill of the night took hold, the illusionist re-tied the red ribbon back around its book, effectively sealing the contents back inside as if it would seal away the knowledge as well. If nothing else, now she had two deities to pray to for peace of mind.

Hopefully at least one of them could answer her prayers.

[651]
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Aislyn Leavold
Just an illusion.
 
Posts: 570
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Joined roleplay: June 8th, 2014, 9:23 pm
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[Temple of Ionu] Strings and Things

Postby Kaleidoscope on November 15th, 2016, 11:01 pm

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Aislyn
Skills
  • Prayer: +1
Lores
  • The Different Meanings of Unanswered Questions
  • Mental Support of String and Ribbon
  • The Temple of Ionu: Bell Tower and its Uses
  • Fall 516: Mining Near Alvadas
  • Kenash: City of Slaves
  • Laviku: Deity of the Sea
  • Different Meanings and Memories of Colour
  • Kuvarakh: Had an Impact
  • Lhavit: Home of Zintilla
  • Alvadas is Colour, Other Cities Only Exist in Black and White
  • Sagallius: A Smart God With Control and the Power of Words
  • Love: A Fool's Quest
  • Sagallius: God of Interfering
    Ionu as Alvadas: City Descended to Godhood?
Comments
If there were any specific lores relating to Sagallius that you were looking for, PM me and I can review this grade for you.


Comments: I find it a wonderfully amusing juxtaposition that Aislyn wants answers, yet is completely an enigma and the epitome of an unanswered question herself.

This was a very enjoyable read, and I liked Aislyn's reactions to Sawyer and Ellis. I found Ellis quite charming myself. Sawyer seemed an interesting fellow too. ;)

Apologies for the wait.

Enjoy your grade, and please don't forget to delete/edit out your grade request. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me a PM.
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Kaleidoscope
Taking a Bow
 
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