[The Reading Room] To Claw A Blank

[Alric Lysane]

41st Fall 522 AV - The Reading Room

Alric found himself reflecting upon the inherent power that having a purpose could bring to oneself. What he had wasn’t quite that, more of a task or direction, but even that filled him with a certain sense of energy and excitement, strong sensations that he had started to forget the impact of after so long. He hadn’t really felt much of those things since leaving Sunberth. The anarchic city had almost forced him to be hyper-aware, stressed and always looking for the next thing to do, and achieve. He could see that now, having spent a prolonged period somewhere that wasn’t going to get him a dagger in the back as often as not. Yet he had also noticed that that had left him…listless. There was no challenge, or risk, in a place where all basic needs were abundant.

He hadn’t realised at first how much of an issue that would be for him. He was soused to living hand to mouth, seeking out advantage, planning for the future and on occasion fighting for what were really basic needs – like weapons and food. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t been too mentally capable given what Xhyvas had visited upon him. Thankfully Cervisi’s little intervention had bore some fruit in that regards, with the help of some of Syka’s more central personalities. There was still much mental healing to do, and he still didn’t know where he was supposed to stand in his new home, yet he had something to do that was useful – find out what the damned monolith and claw symbol were about. Bit seemed relevant to him for some reason, calling to him without him knowing why.

Plus it will be interesting to see how Kamilla the Konti reacts if she gets knocked onto her clearly superior arse. I imagine some sort of snarky scorn before she answers the questions he mused to himself, snorting in amusement as he slipped through the throngs at the Outpost.

He had risen early, before Syna’s rays had graced the horizon beyond the light purple tones the signalled her imminent arrival. There had been no Lys or Taz, no Ixam even. It was a familiar and slightly lonely tone that he was growing used to. There were things to do, places to check in on and desires to be fulfilled. Celebrations tended to be kept to certain days, rather than every day, despite the abundance, and he was becoming less relevant to the young one he watched over – a mixed blessing and only natural given she was practically an adult by now. By Sunberth standards she was, and would have been carving out her own niche at this point. She was taking that chance in Syka with Lexi, and for that he was both concerned and happy.

“You are troubled Nymkarta,” Jade’s voice slipped into his mind in what felt like a concerned tone, “do…thing still trouble you?”

“Yes Jade, they do…but not as much as they sued to, and that isn’t the reason for my strange thoughts”

“All of your thoughts are strange”

“That…is probably true. But you need not worry, I am fine. I am always fine”

“Some things never change” the Gasvik said cryptically.

“You mean with me, or my line? Please let it be about my line, I love the lectures about how I have the negative traits as well as not measuring up” he noted wryly.

“No. That is not fair. You have defied expectations. From where you started, and with what you were given, you have done well. You are still alive, not a vessel and still tried to treat Lys well despite…events. Many humans do not even bother to try that hard”

“Surprising…thank you. Is there a bu-“

“But”

“I had a hunch!”

“But…there is much room to grow still…much farther for you to go…should you wish to”

After that Jade left the subject without further extrapolation, merely returning to his customary stoic silence. Still his words had left Alric feeling better about himself, which perhaps had been the intention. Jade wasn’t as hostile or brusque as he had been before. He wasn’t sure if they were friends, or if Jade even wanted friendship with anything, but they had formed a sort of truce, where they could both observe and then agree to disagree. These more frequent interventions where he shared a better opinion of him, than even he himself had, were a sign of some kind of bond that was more positive.

It was with such thoughts that he entered the Reading Room – the only library-like place in the Outpost that he knew of. It also happened to be the only one he had access to without having to trouble someone else. He had plans to visit Talia and ask her opinion upon the claw markings, but she was in a place he could not get to himself, and so he would leave that for another time.


Words - 825
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[Alric Lysane]

He wasn’t sure, as he paced the shelves and alcoves, what it was he was looking for. The whole thing seemed a mystery wrapped in an enigma, with precious little to go on other than magically communicated words and the three clawed symbol. They both troubled him, yet the former troubled him more. The very fact that it seemed to reveal things to those who were interested spoke clearly to him of a consciousness behind the whole process and a consciousness meant there was intent. The intent was what he was interested in, though he suspected that he might have to try to understand the consciousness and its seemingly garbled message before he would be able to understand the intent.

Where to even begin with this puzzle? Random words, not all of them boding well, and a catalogue of parchments in no particular order at all? I know Eyris prizes the seeking…Seekers…perhaps we should bring them back. With our own twists of course. Repeating the past exactly only leads to the same results he mused to himself as he scratched his chin and cast his gaze around the room, seeking inspiration and finding none.

He began where he usually did, with his tactile explorations. His fingers moved gently across the assembled parchments, his Lykata mark shining more brightly in the various angles of light, as he sought for something that stood out. HE did this for some time, not taking anything and simply getting used to moving around the room, relaxing back into the once familiar place. Taz had told him that it was a Dominion, though he was still fuzzy on the details of such things. He had meant to seek out Ialari and ask her about it, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready for any more trades of anything, and he doubted it would be free information. His capacity for bargaining had been taken up for now, so he had pushed it back to another time, when he was more able. He wasn’t sure what it meant to him – the fat the Outpost was Xyna’s Dominion – or whether it changed things. Either way he needed the potential of the place and so he had come anyway.

He needed the settled sense of mind too, finding it here more easily than in Syka despite the revelations. It was familiar, he had done this so many times before, it was comforting after a fashion. There were no dangers here, even Sran’tuka couldn’t touch him here without Xyna’s allowing it now seemed. His mind eased and he found the meditative balance quick enough, his muscles becoming relaxed even as they moved him slowly around the room, posture and speed matching the growing calm of his mindset. His mouth opened slightly as his breathing settled into the rhythm he had learned from Stu, in through the nose and out through the mouth, subconsciously counting and then repeating with the muscle memory. He picked a shelf and then, with eyes closed, focused upon the magic gifted to him from Eyris, pulling upon the images he wished to see through the mark on his hand.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular as his hand brushed across the assembled parchment rolls, instead feeling out the images to see if anything would make itself known – strong emotion, or sense of purpose, of wonder and meaning – as he had no direction to go. As such he was switching to the instinctive and he let most of the things that flashed into his mind’s eye flow past, their interpretation brief but long enough to know they didn’t pull upon his mind as particularly meaningful, for the task he had set himself at least.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him, standing there and likely cutting quite the strange figure, but in the end there came a flash of strong conviction through the images, cutting the others apart as his fingers touched the parchment and his hand stopped, eyes opened and he pulled out the parchment in question.

“Let’s see what we have then” he muttered to himself as he took it to one of the nearest reading chairs, high backed and covered with comfortable cushions, and reclined into it with a sigh.

It didn’t take long to realise that it wasn’t of use to him with the problem of the claw symbol, however if he ever wanted to know how to ‘raise chickens the right way’ then he certainly would have a head start over other ‘lesser keepers, spiteful of the animals who provided for them’. As he read his eyebrow rose and a slight curling up of the corners of his mouth crept into his face. It was an interesting read and he understood why it had stood out – the woman who had written it was passionate and principled, the strength of such traits even imbued into he very words she had written. It felt recent, not overly old, and still raw as if written in a furore of half-condemnation and half-desire to promote a better way.

As he learned about how chickens that were treated in a more ‘free range’ capacity – in as far as he understood that meant keeping them in a larger cage, a run, or open to the world completely – were healthier and led to more eggs being laid, he found himself strangely curious. It wasn’t knowledge that he had wanted, yet it was still interesting to him, fascinating in a strange way.

Animals had never much entered his thoughts, beyond the vicious Brats, but since coming to Syka he had had more involvement with them. As he read next about how to properly set up a chicken coop, the measurements to be used for each animal’s space for nesting and how many tiers there should be as a maximum, he reflected that he had probably not treated his own animals – Twilight and Isikai – as well as he could have done. The passion in the script, clear and resonant, spoke to him clearly.

“Well…animal husbandry wasn’t what I wanted…but you influenced me, so your message was found and appreciated by someone, at least. Interesting how emotion can come out in the written word in unexpected ways” he said to himself with a small smile, rising and returning it to the shelf he had found it upon once he had finished reading it.


Words - 1063

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[Alric Lysane]

Giving one last grin of goodbye to the impassioned words that had reached out to him he made his way to the next shelf at random, there being no order to this place meant that there was no point in trying for rigorous research techniques – they were pointless, a reminder that no matter how you tried, life had a way of being chaotic and random, events coming as they would and with no say in their arrival. I was slightly annoying, that he had some knowledge that he couldn’t put to use, but it would have to wait. He wondered if there was a way to retreat to Reclaimed Knowledge for a few days, whether if he had enough supplies that he could be dropped off and stay there by himself without fear. He made a note to ask about, and explore that option, it would likely do him some good to have some time in relative isolation.

From the living at least he noted to himself, wondering whether Talia would actually want to interact much with him, or whether she was a less sociable incorporeal soul.

Sighing and leaving those thoughts for now he found himself before the next set of shelving and he one again closed his eyes and sought that peaceful place, the place just floating above his ‘well’ of Djed, where he could spend some time beyond cares and concerns for a time. It was a place that reminded him of happier times, times when the study of magic was shared and things seemed more fun, simpler in their happenings. True enough he had made many shocking discoveries, but they had been somewhat removed. Emotionally taxing and draining, yet the immediacy of the threats and interactions with greater things had not yet set in. He had had time, and now he had none. His face softened slightly at the easing of his mind such a thing brought, his fingertips beginning their searching once more, the same criteria in place, as he tapped into his Lykata mark and Eyris’ divine powers.

It took a while but in the end the images and sensations started to flow into his mind’s eye, his fingertips moving more slowly this time, affording him the ability to linger slightly longer upon each impression received. He was growing to respect the power more of late, his realisation that it was more than just knowledge he was witnessing – it was legacy. No matter how long ago the creators, reader and the rest may have lived there was still a remnant of them left in these items. Their Djed lived on, even if it were a weaker and more ancillary sort of Djed. Of all the divines that he knew of, or had met, he liked Eyris the best, she had asked nothing of him and had simply given him something that he could enjoy. He doubted there were no strings, but they had not been made apparent as of yet and so he enjoyed it. He mentally apologised to Ionu for a moment, halting the flow of impressions, but he wasn’t going to lie to himself – such things had cost him much already.

Time passed as he traced fingertips across scrolls and then another one flashed brighter than the rest, causing him to stop and pull it out, grasping it gently and returning to his still vacant seat in the comfortable chain, reclining and crossing his ankles upon a footstool, unrolling the parchment and peering curiously upon what was contained within. For a while there was a puzzled frown but when he finally understood what the purpose of the writing was, he let out a loud bark of laughter, garnering a few frowns and mutters from the other readers that left him slightly chastened but still unapologetic. It was a treatise – or an attempt at the beginnings of one – upon comedy and performance arts. It had stood out to him because the writer’s amusement was self-evident and had likely leaked into the item, imprinted with the Djed left over upon the scroll.

As he read about the importance of timing and even prolonged pauses, the rhythm of the speaking or physical routine, the use of music and other backdrops like scenery, or even of fire to create smoke to obscure things desired or draw attention, he found himself chuckling quietly to himself. He found himself wondering if the writer were some kind of follower of Ionu, the way he kept referring to the power of illusion and related concepts, the masking of reality and the manifestation of the wilful suspension of disbelief. He was so enthralled by it that he decided that he would have to write the points down when he got back to Syka – he had no writing to trade for a copy here and so memory would have to suffice. He had the feeling this random scroll might help him relate to the trickster god whom had decided to intervene in his life, or at least gain some measure of understanding.

Mightily amused, and taking away a few terrible jokes and some rather interesting performance idea and concepts, he return it to where he had found it and raked his fingers back through his hair thoughtfully.

“All knowledge has purpose, you made me laugh. Thank you, whoever you were” he muttered to himself, casting his eyes about after a few moments of respect for the scroll and searching for another set of shelves.


Words - 912

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[Alric Lysane]

He found a set unattended quick enough, standing before then with a small frown beginning to form upon his brow. He was beginning to doubt the wisdom of seeking the knowledge he wanted here. He had far from read the entire collection, and what with it being in a constant state of flux he wasn’t sure anyone would ever be able to lay claim to that achievement. Still there was the lingering doubt that whatever the claw markings and monolith were about, the answers didn’t lay anywhere but in Syka. At least for the beginnings of the path – he assumed that once the message was deciphered, whatever it was, that it would be like the first breadcrumb of the trail. Where it led…he could only hope it was fortuitous. Still, he had come with a task and he liked to collect knowledge of things where he could, so he chose to stay for a time and try a little while longer.

When has a setback or two ever stopped me from something likely foolish after all? he asked himself, amusement still cresting from his previous read and causing a smile for his own strange character.

He repeated the process of sinking down into himself mentally, accompanied by the physical sensation that his linked senses interpreted as his mind falling into himself, roughly where his heart was and then…deeper. He had yet to find the words to truly describe it, it was instinctive and as if he were another version of himself, watching himself but yet also being himself. He doubted anyone had every encapsulated it description fully, it was in part almost indescribable. Yet it brought with it that familiar sensation of peace. Only a year ago he’d have had a fit had he told himself that the beginning calm of tapping into Djed for magic would make him feel better. Now…he was a different man, with different concerns and issues that he’d never have predicted back then. He was also aware of the siren song of magic, and was painfully aware that its use was becoming almost…sweet…to him – a danger to be aware of.

Tapping into his Lykata the images began flashing again as his fingertips continued their exploration, seeking out that special thing that might shed some light upon his problem. Undeterred and banishing doubt from his mind after acknowledging it, the images faltering for a few moments, and then returning to their emergence in kaleidoscopic sensation. It again took time and he felt a number of things before one made itself known – grey flashes of boredom and sunken head upon desks, a few images of some countryside perhaps, green plants and others in abundance, a sea of green grass that looked like what Zach had described in Endrykas and the associated form of a bulky man. But it came, in the end, that flash of inspiration and searing difference that jumped out at him, causing his finger to stop and grasp out at it almost reflexively.

He pulled the scroll free and took it back to the chair – his chair for the day it seemed – and unrolled it, beginning to read. This time the knowledge was more bittersweet than it was interesting or unknown. In many ways it was a reiteration of things he had pondered for a while, or had experienced directly. It was a series of writings upon psychology – one of three apparently from the title – and this one was about types of trauma and its associated mechanisms. As he continued to read he sadly realised that it had little to say on the way of healing such things, it was instead a way of deciphering, diagnosing and mitigating their impacts in preparation for the beginnings of healing. It was almost like reading a strange mirror of himself and that was painful, so painful that it took him several tries to get through the thing, let alone to process what knowledge he had just had solidified.

Pinching his brow he found there was a slight moistness, not true tears but the beginnings of them, and he took a deep breath and centered himself once more, locking the emotions away deep within until he was somewhere more private to deal with them properly. He recognised some of what Stu had told him during Cervisi’s looping day, and had to assume that the next scroll – wherever it was – would end up laying out methods that would include the one Stu had chosen to show him and help him with. He steeled himself and read once more, diving into what felt like literally barbed words, and trying to divine some sort of usefulness for himself beyond the knowledge itself. It felt less raw the second time around, the images of Krysus not rising up in his mind’s eye as often and certainly with less pain, and a slightly removed sense.

It signalled to him that he was making progress, but hardly fully recovered in his mental strength. In the end, though, he did find a few things that might be useful – acknowledgement mechanisms and diagnoses mainly but still useful.
The reason the scroll had spoken to him was clear. It wasn’t because it was akin to his own issues, but because the one who had written it had been a recovered patient – if one could truly call it recovery. Their pain at remembering things as they write and tried to help others…it was a mighty thing to bear witness to and he carefully put the scroll back, simply standing and watching it for a time.

“I hope you found peace, which is what we all seek, I think” he said in a slightly dulled tone but with feeling within.

He sighed, rubbed his face and looked around the Reading Room once more. He thought it wise not to linger further and try to search more for now, he wasn’t sure if he found that second scroll that he would be able to continue calmly. Instead he walked outside, lit his pipe from a stray lantern, and found that half a day or more had passed by how much busier the Outpost had become. As he puffed away at his pipe he made his way slowly back to the Dovecote, passing by his old home for some nostalgia as he did so, and returned to Syka – there to retreat somewhere to be alone and ponder upon what he had found – not what he had been searching for, but perhaps some things that he needed all the same.


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