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 Posted: Sat Sep 03, 2011 2:34 pm
『 Directory 』
❂
❂ Circle one: Catalyst ❂
❂
✪ The Here and Now
Sea and song still stung his brain.
[Solo]
✪ Of Cats and Thieves
"It was my last chance!"
[Solo]
✪ In Your Absence
'Hello Brother.'
[Letter]
✪ Inquiring Minds
"I am very bright, aren't I? My flame never goes out you know!"
[Solo]
✪ Fix It!
-
[PRP]
✪ Be Still
His paranoia over the possession of the key to his misfortunes flared.
[ORP]
✪ A Sour Aftertaste
"You don’t know a single thing about the world around you, or what we are."
[Solo]
...coming soon...
✪ Capabilities
“It doesn’t take much to provoke a desperate man.”
[Solo]
✪ The End of Assumptions
'Idiot.'
[Letter]
✪ A Different Approach
(Determined to gain an answer, Kal sets forth on his journey for discovery; leaving the stunteds in a rather unpleasant state.)
[Solo]
✪ Of Better Days
(A faint memory of lost possibilities.)
[PRP]
✪ A Soothing Remedy
(Mishaps may sometimes be shortcuts to our goal.)
[PRP]
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Posted: Fri Oct 14, 2011 1:54 pm
The Here and Now
Is littered with ghosts
“A sailor? You talk awful proper, boy, to be any kind of sailor."
“Yes. A shame what hindrance the English language bears on us poor, proper souls. We can be so misleading.” Dark eyes peered into darker ale, bored of the unenlightened conversation. It seemed to churn and bubble in spurts, and Kalyan reciprocated the drink’s feelings with disgust of his own. For the ‘advanced city’ that Mishkan claimed to be, one would think they’d at least be able to afford better than an import of low grade brew. He began to wonder what exactly went wrong: improper portions of yeast, an abundance of water to cover for lack of malt, unsanitary cooling conditions. To be fair, it wasn’t quite the most exuberant part of town that his patron had escorted him to. The older man didn’t expect much of a treat from a customer who could barely keep up with the few shillings a week owed to the repairman. But Kalyan had the sneaking suspicion that the extremely cheap drinks meant that the young gentleman to his right was going to be behind on another payment. Again.
“Don’t like look like a learned lad, ya don’t.” The pale young man picked at his teeth and raised an emptied mug to his eye. Kalyan didn’t miss the repeated statement and stared at his companion when he signaled for another drink. “I mean, we’ve gotten all kinds here in Panymium, we do. But you got eyes to rival the black sands- a hide dark ‘n tough as the boots I wear!” He slapped his shoe for proper measure, snorting as he almost fell out of his stool. Kalyan didn’t share his amusement. “Don’t no privileged men look like you.”
Kalyan raised his mug, drinking slowly. “Lewis, men don’t need reliance on others to learn. Just pick up the book itself.” If the glazed over look he received was any indication, anything over two syllables had not registered with the other. Kalyan took a deep breath through his nose. “I studied. On my own.”
“Oh. Oh. Study. Study? What a man- a sailor- need ‘ta study? What for?”
Kalyan paused. He thought of telling the other about his taste for travels and treasures: myths, cultures, diversity and foreign lands. He opened his mouths to mention these things; then he reminded himself who he was talking to and where he was- even more so, how he ended up here. “I was merely…interested.” Kalyan uttered and suddenly wished they would move on to a different topic. The memory of barrels with even cheaper booze, obnoxious laughter and stomping feet, was suddenly so vivid that the stark smell of sea salt flew up his nostrils and suffocated his senses.
Maybe he had drunk too much. His rough hand swirled the contents within the oversized mug, concentrating on the brown liquid. Sea and song still stung his brain. The rundown bar now seemed smaller than it already was- louder. He saw a vision of brass and felt the sudden need to return home.
“Interest! What a load of shite. Ain’t nothin’ so borin’ as readin’ a damned book.” Lewis pursed his lips; his imitation of annunciation. “Think they so high and mighty. Them and their books and their school learnin’.”
Lewis seemed to forget his referance to Kalyan, and the other didn’t argue. Instead he’d nodded his head slightly, curls itching his eyes as he tried to focus on whatever it was Lewis was spewing. “Mm.”
“What’s it worth? No meat on their bones and too many words, that’s what. You throw them out to the east side of Mortiyan, you see how good their learnin’ is.” The replacement ale arrived, and Lew shot a leer at the escaping barmaid. “But you seem to got it figured out now, huh? What rubbish it is.” A yellow stained grin.
Kalyan succeeded in being more lucid as small moments passed. “Yes well,” he swallowed and tried to regain his verbal footing, “I suppose. In a sense. It never did me any service regardless.” There had been only the slightest tinge of bitterness in his voice, and his blond companion jumped at the smallest of similarities.
“See! My point exactly!” Lewis smacked a small palm on the back of broad shoulders. “We really see eye to eye, you and I, Umesh. Eye to eye. We could be like brothers.”
These words grounded him completely. Thank the stars Lewis Baird’s repulsive presence and insulations could somehow shatter a case of mild psychosis. “I think not.”
“’Course we could!” Lewis took a swig. “We’ve known each other this long an’ only just now havin’ a drink. You’re too much of a stranger, Umesh.”
He wasn’t even going to bother pointing out that they’d only known each other for all of six weeks- two of those Lewis had been avoiding the Imisus native and his debt . This man didn’t even call Kalyan by his given name, yet was insinuating their bond was something of family. He’d no right. Those he’d called his brothers were long dead and gone in undeserved, watery graves. While they may not all have been pure of heart, they deserved better than to be in the same ranks with trash like Lewis Baird. The ex-sailor eyed the assuming drunk up and down, thinking on the situation. Kalyan originally didn’t do ‘payment plans’. Years on the waters and in dirty streets taught him better than to make such a pact- much less with this kind of man. But Kalyan had been desperate as of late; taking on cases and items that he had no experience with and playing things by eye or ear for quick money. He only had himself to blame for landing in this situation.
Of course, that didn't change that fact that he hadn't the slightest bit of patience for this kind of conversation.
“Brothers are close. Can count on each other. Now matter how big or small tha favor.” Thin brows pinched together at the constant familiar reference. Lewis moved in, voice low as if divulging some secret. “Can you do me just that small favor, Umesh?”
Kalyan cut through the frill to the heart of implication. “Baird. I’m not giving you an extension. You’ve had more than enough time.”
The pale face flushed with more anger than embarrassment. “Hey now-“
“And as much as I would love to further enjoy your company, I believe the point of this charade has been reached.” He avoided the other’s eye and the stool screeched as he stood in one fluid motion. He downed the remainder of his booze, then threw the coat he’d sat upon around his shoulders. “Let us avoid any further misconceptions: If I don’t have what I’m owed within two days, I’m bringing the local guard into this.” He didn’t bother buttoning the long jacket closed as he made his way towards the door. “Thank you for the drinks. They were surprisingly foul.”
He was outside by the time angry shouting had contributed to the noise coming from within the building. His feet crunched against stones as he ignored dull insults and started the small journey back home. If Kalyan could have his way, the idiot would merely show up with his money and leave him the hell alone for the rest of his stay in Mishkan. But the first half wasn’t very likely, and Lewis would most likely call his bluff. It was foolish to think that the guard would fetch anyone for less than 30 shillings. Hopefully Lewis was just that kind of fool.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and trudged on. Every now and then a faraway gull would call, signaling the early hour it was near the docks. His feet specifically aimed away from any route too close to the water. The wind from the shoreline washed over him, and Kalyan felt a sickness and delight take turns in agitating him as he breathed. He turned his back to it and made his way further into the city rather than taking the short route. Along the edge of his vision he saw the occasional soul pass this way and that on their own business. Whether they were truly there or not, Kalyan didn’t see fit to check.
He was done with his delusions for tonight.
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Posted: Fri Nov 04, 2011 2:47 am
Of Cats and Thieves
Whom curiosity purged
'You’ve led us in the wrong direction!’
'I’ve done no such thing! I've checked everything. Do you think I enjoy being stuck in the ocean with a bunch of unstable men?’
‘Then where is the coast? Where is Panymium!’
'I’ve checked the sun and many constellations. It all has been telling me it’s only a little further east!’
‘We can’t keep wasting days out here! The disease is wiping everyone out! If Sir Deckartt were alive-‘
‘He isn’t! I am! Just listen-
‘Give me the almanac.’
‘What?’
‘I said give it to me!’
‘Don't- Stop that! Let go! You- you don’t know what to look for!’
‘NEITHER DO YOU!’
A crow was cawing. Far off, but it stood out over the quieted bustle of people on the streets. Slow and full of sleep, Kalyan’s brain caught up to the bleary vision of being awake. As he became more aware he realized there was a table beneath his head, a crick in his neck, and an impatient someone knocking rather loudly on his door. He lifted up and blinked at the glaring sun. How had he stayed asleep with the heat cooking his face? Through nightmares or drunken slumbers, Kalyan was always an early riser. In the rare times that the sailor did manage to have a late start to his day, they usually were signs of a tiring day ahead. He brought up a large hand to squeeze at the tense muscles above his shoulder, the other peeling off the papers stuck to his cheek. How long had he been asleep? Why was he at his desk?
The high sun at his window answered Kalyan’s first question. No doubt he had somehow managed to sleep well into noon. Shining metal caught his attention and responded to his second; now he remembered what he did with the rest of his night.
There next to him was the relic of his misfortune: his father’s astrolabe. He’d decided to study the markings in depth- trying to discover its direct origins using the style of the craftsman’s metal work. He already knew that his father had brought it with him from his homeland. But he only had so much on with the history and culture of Yirui. The few books he had weren’t enough to give any indication of where it could have been created. Yirui was a vast continent; reasoning behind creating such an obscure type of instrument would most likely stay unclear for the rest of Kalyan’s days. Curse, gift, or a joke by the Creator himself, Kalyan might never know.
Except he had to know. Because it wasn’t just dumb luck that he’d survived- or bad luck that they’d gotten lost at sea on a clearly marked map and route, with the best technicians and workers. With navigators who knew the waters better than the fish that swam them. A turn of luck didn’t explain the albatross.
Curses weren’t supposed to be real. They weren’t to Kalyan. At least not until he made it to shore, his life intact and his reputation in shambles.
The knocking against his door made itself known again by evolving into large thumps.
“Yes yes,” Kalyan grunted in the door’s direction. His back made a few pops as he stood upright then into his comfortable hunch. Hopefully the rude guest wouldn’t notice the day worn clothing, as Kalyan didn’t care to hustle and change and tucked in his shirt tail instead in some semblance of tidiness. He gave his hair a few shakes and took a single step before he paused. With a quick hand he shuffled a few papers over the astrolabe’s shine, and then went back to addressing the nuisance trying to break in his door.
He didn’t bother cracking the door, whipping it open to stare down whoever it was on the other side. “What is it?”
“Kalyan, my friend. I was beginnin’ to think ya weren’t home.”
To say that Kalyan was surprised to see Lewis Baird at his door only hours after their tirade would be a severe understatement.
The dirty blonde was there, all crooked smiles and squinting eyes in the midday sun that blanketed his side of the neighborhood. There were bags underneath his eyes that seemed no deeper than the norm; his baggy clothes no less ruffled. Kalyan couldn’t actually spy any outright indication that Baird had remembered- or even been through- what had transpired all of some hours ago.
His stared for awhile longer, hand still at the handle before responding. “…It is a generally accepted rule that if you knock, and someone doesn’t answer the door, then they aren’t. home.”
“Yet here you are.”
Kalyan blinked slowly. He found himself less annoyed and more astounded that the crook was here, and not working his way past the next town. “Smells stale in here, it does.” Baird tried to poke his head above the high shoulder blocking the doorway. The other’s brow deepened ever so slightly. “Don’t a grown man know how to clean up after himself?"
Like your lot can have any kind of say so dealing with cleanliness. “I assume this visit means you have what you owe me?” Thirty seconds exposed to him and already he felt the beginnings to a headache. This meeting needed to be as short as possible.
“Slow down now. I’ve got your payment. Just want to make a little friendly conversation is all. Seems we had a misunderstanding last night." Baird flashed his yellowing teeth and the blond mop on his head nodded towards inside. The darker heaved an inward sigh. The possibility of their talk staying quick and painless was dwindling. Still he removed his bordering self, shutting the door after Lewis had stepped past the threshold. Whatever argument arose from the smuggler he was sure he could handle. If possible payment was at hand, then unfortunately there was no reason to refuse.
~
“I said: back off, Lewis.”
The conversation had gone downhill; as much was expected. But now Kalyan was having trouble keeping the situation from nose-diving into the ground. In the few scenarios the sailor had predicted in his mind, nowhere at all did Lewis Baird make a show of tossing his room upside down- or hold him at gunpoint.
Baird had his eye on everything in the place. The brunet thought he was assuming too much with the other’s nonchalant attitude and touching of everything within a two foot radius while he slinked around the apartment. But he hadn’t. Soon enough the thief had tired of evading Kalyan’s questions, and saw fit to announce that he was going to rob the other of everything he had. Treating it as a bad joke, Kalyan informed him that it wouldn’t be very much. Another flash of teeth, and into Baird’s pocket went a small a small arrowhead; a charm he’d obtained from gypsies traveling through the forests of Afron on a job. He’d traded a week’s meal for it; such was the cunning of gypsies in the presence of a hopeless man. It appeared simple, but he’d been convinced of its properties to ward off ‘evil’ and ill luck with its bright shine and their stories of the Indians they’d obtained it from in years past. It was a shame he hadn’t been wearing it the time he need it the most. Because, while they hadn’t discussed yet, Kalyan also saw fit to assume that his death at the end of this visit was…implied.
“Oh? This worth somethin’ is it?” He peered closer at the desk, gun still in Kalyan’s direction. He was brought back to his current position, staring down the scruff of a man as Lewis caught eye of something shining on the table between them. “Don’t look like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before. This another one of your ‘trader goods’?”
He chastised himself for making the astrolabe a point of interest. Instead of instantly becoming hostile, he should have feigned indifference; he knew the game at least this much. But it was too late now to feign such. Instead he stood his guard, knowing it wouldn’t be enough. “I won’t repeat myself.”
The man snickered and his hand lowered towards the dull metal. “Ever the arrogant one. It’s as much as entertainin’ as it is completely ********’ annoyin’. But you know instead of making deals with men like me, you should have been selling all this junk. You know how much the right people will pay nowadays for some imported trash that ain’t just a piece ‘a food?”
He felt on uncomfortable itching in his palms; the longer Baird touched and inspected his obsession, the worse it got. There were people outside, but shouting for help would only get him shot. He could make a grab for the gun, but was he fast enough? Kalyan could pack a punch sure, but street fighting could only get you so far. And he was very much out of practice. “I’m sure you would be just the expert on such matters.”
“Damn right I would. An’ I say the lower class’ll do anything to look in the ranks with those who still have connections overseas for this kind of crap.” There were parchments all around with illustrations and numbers which he finally scattered to the floor. Baird’s only concern was the prize- which he considered it less so after seeing the black flecks across the face of the tool. A dirty nail scraped at the ooze. “If it’s worth anything that is,” He sucked his teeth and tried to bend one of the dials. Kalyan leapt forward.
“Don’t touch it!”
The man snatched up the heavy piece and aimed the barrel at Kalyan’s head. “I’d keep my voice down if I were you.” He spoke with bravado, but fidgeted as well. His stubby fingers weren’t able to find a comfortable position on the astrolabe, and the substance akin to grease was being spread across his hand. Baird gripped it this way and that before hefting it into the crook of his arm. “You’re in no position to be makin’ them kinds ‘a commands. ‘Sides you ain’t too good at those, are you Umesh?”
The hazel eyes were back on him. A smirk lit up Baird’s face. “Yeah that’s right. I talked around the taverns. I knew all about you. ‘Mr. Survivor.” He raised the gun higher. “You forget what I am, what I’m good at. Think you’re above it all- with your quick hands and head in th’ clouds. Well, let me remind you why you should pay attention. When an outlaw comes into town and requests you specifically by name, most people would get suspicious; when an outlaw asks you questions about your personal life, he ain’t tryin’ ta get friendly. He’s lookin’ for leverage. And finally, when an outlaw asks you for an extension, most people would have the intelligence to drop the matter altogether. But of course you didn’t, and now we have to go through all this.” He let out a snort that made Kalyan’s skin crawl. “I suppose that explains how the ship got lost. The driver’s an idiot.”
A horrible ringing sounded in Umesh’s ears. He felt stiff, his body hot and cold at the same time.
How? How did he know? How did anyone still. know? Stars above, he really was an idiot. He should have moved away from a port town- sailors always talk. It was in their nature. And it was not exactly a subtle happenstance that one could just forget as a small footnote in history: The Rosa had been on an official mission, and they’d failed. He figured it was a possibility, but for anyone to know him by name was a thought he’d pegged as paranoid. Even if he washed up in Mishkan, it was even a smaller chance that anyone should know him by face.
Now sweat began to gather on his forehead. He really hadn’t thought things through this time. Kalyan stood straighter, a reflex upon noticing Baird slowly making his way to the door. That trash was distracting him, and doing a damn fine job. He planned on walking right out of the front door with the only clue Kalyan had; the only reasoning he could imagine and put blame on- because it has to be someone’s fault. The thing reeked of rot and pestilence no matter how many times he shined it- before and after the mission. It was the reason behind everything. He knew it was. The chaos of home, the ship’s disaster, his horrible luck, his horrendous life. He just hadn’t figured it out yet. He just hadn’t been able to decipher how.
Now this b*****d was going to take it. Take the only piece of the puzzle he had. Well. He couldn’t have it. He just couldn’t. Not when he was so close.
“A helmsman! You! They said the ones leadin’ was still alive. You and those others. Survived and damned the souls of his brothers! I hear how you did it, too. Made a deal with the devils, you three did.”
He didn’t indulge in the false rumor. Instead his eyes were focused. All he could see were the gun and the astrolabe. His hands clenched and unclenched. When? Where was the opening? Baird was still going on, trying to shock him with the explicit reminders of his history that the sailor blocked out.
Then he saw it, the tilt slightly to the left the moment Baird set to pull the hammer of his pistol. His vision narrowed on speckled metal.
“Fat lot of good that did them. All you fools ended up DEAD-“
Suddenly Kalyan lunged, and the astroblabe clattered to the ground. His shoulder knocked the wind out of the other’s stomach with a strength that caught the smuggler off guard. The weapon skidded away without going off while both men smashed into a wall and wrestled to the ground. One moment he was snarling, and the next Lewis was choking as if failing to breath. Kalyan’s hands had made it around Baird’s neck, his instincts kicking in and grip tight. A fist made it to his face; he felt something drip down his mouth and he heard a crunch. But Kalyan wasn’t there- wasn’t anywhere. His mouth was open, he was yelling and couldn’t hear himself.
“It wasn’t my fault. None of it was, you filthy piece of s**t! All of you! All you do it talk! And judge! None of you were there! Everything just went bad! I don't know how it happened! How we got lost... I-I…It was supposed to be my chance...”
Lewis kicked and gurgled. Kalyan squeezed harder. “It was my last chance!”
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Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2011 12:46 am
In Your AbsenceLive stranded dependentsxxxxxHello brother.
xxxxxHow are you faring? Does your forehead still hit door lintels?
xxxxxMother thanks you for the coin that comes with your letters. I find it a surprise that none are taken on their way to Imisus. It must be a valiant soul you trust with these packages.
xxxxxHer strength has been returning in the last few weeks. It is a chore to get her out of the house, but mother has made an effort to join me in the market now and then. That strange peddler you favor is now hounding me with every visit. He forgets I’ve no interest in toys or fairytales. Theodore heckled some deal with him and presented me with a crude kind of music box. The song is short and eerie. I should send it to you. I’m sure you’d enjoy it much more than I.
xxxxxBesides that, little has changed at home. There is a leak in the roof of your old room that worsens as the winter approaches. And the timepiece father bought doesn’t seem to work anymore. Perhaps you could fix it when you return. How much longer had you planned on staying in Mishkan? Or should I fix on selling all your things?
xxxxxElyse Umesh
Response Pending
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2012 6:02 pm
✪ Capabilities
“It doesn’t take much to provoke a desperate man.”
[Solo]
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2012 6:16 pm
Inquiring MindsAre the start to resultsTime had been stagnant since what Mrs. Coen liked to call the ‘situation.’ September was mild, the old woman herself visited less and less, business slowed; even the weather refused to change as days rolled in and out of Kalyan’s life in Merrimead. The stillness of the city, which he once saw as bustling place of opportunity, was maddening.
The only saving grace of today being different from the others was that the do-it-all handyman had a run in with an aspiring musician, and was given a boisterous invite to a local gathering for support. The side show he put on wasn’t an all too appealing listen compared to the other entertainment offered along the uneven street; an old trickster hiding in the shadow of the sweet shop had been commandeering what little there was of the morning’s crowd when they exited the center of the town, shuffling into the small main road to the southern outskirts. Kalyan was tempted to give the would-be gambler a run for his money- he could most certainly predict the shuffling of marbles from a cup to another- but attending a gathering for a mediocre musician was probably a safer thing to do with his time.
Most of the attention on the main square came during a quarter to eleven; which seemed to be fast approaching if the running children, wives and cargo men seemed any indication. Kalyan had no desire to fight his way through the rest of the quickest route from his early endeavor. The navigator was irritated enough. He increased the pace in his step, shuffling past squabbling children and struggling to refrain from pulling his hands out of the pockets of his coat- lest he recount the coin he’d just made in the street and get robbed. Kalyan snorted to himself. It was such a small amount. Perhaps a thief wouldn’t even bother with it.
He couldn’t believe that stuck up, twig of a librarian had the gall to offer him twenty less of what he knew his book was worth. Ten years he had that Index. Ten! His shop couldn’t have been doing so terrible, surely, to offer him a deal so lacking. Many times Kalyan had been inside the prestigious building to haggle a price he might be paid for what he had to offer. Usually the young man in charge already had a copy or two of what Kalyan brought forth. But even so, in a city like this that offered actual schooling, they sold fast- and what he had to offer helped much more with foreign studies that had become so rare in recent years. But whatever the case may be, Kalyan had felt cheated with the trade. Even the owner looked reproachful when offering up the pocket change- which was saying something, since the look he was usually given was like he was a stain within the white-washed walls of his precious bookstore.
The money was taken in stride, but that didn’t stop him from grinding his teeth the whole way home. “Shouldn’t have sold it,” he muttered to himself. Much as he wanted to go back and throw the money in the man’s face, with what he had in his pocket he could eat for another two weeks. If he ever got enough money to buy it back though, he would. He could only hope the price wouldn’t be doubled by then out of unwarranted spite.
The sun was now high enough above the houses to make him wince. With his left he rubbed at his broad face and thought himself losing touch. A little sun in his eye during his traveling days never gave him headaches. A sharp pain to the front of his noggin commanded his attention and he sighed. But to be fair, everything did recently.
And now I’m calling the previous year my ‘traveling days’. Stars above, I sound like an old croon. Kalyan’s brow pinched, his boots clacking on the stones of the richer district. Maybe he should go for a drink rather than the artisan’s show tonight. If he could contain his haunting for just a few hours, he might actually enjoy himself and not envy or tune out another’s stories.
“Oh, Mr. Umesh!” A bright voice perked from his left. Kalyan’s curls bounced with his quick turn. He realized around him was a familiar line of houses- when had he reached home?
“Umesh!” A boy no more than his late teens bounded for him from the step of Kalyan’s one room abode. With dirt on his face and brightness in his eyes he reached the gawky man near the corner Kalyan just turned. A hand still small and boyish reached into a shaggy breast pocket, pulling out a beaten up letter wrapped in twine. “Was just about to leave this with the Misses! Lucky I saw you there before I hopped off,” he outstretched his hand. “Came in yesterday for you!”
Kalyan turned over the rounded parcel- long and faded from its journey it had been on. “Luck? I doubt it. Two letters within the week is more along the lines of a conspiracy.” His large finger felt something rigid underneath the rolled up paper. “Seems a bit too often for the likes of Elyse.”
The smaller male lifted his hat to itch his forehead. “I hadn’t been by to deliver nothin’ since the week before last. Do you have someone else coming to deliver your sister’s letter, Sir?” The boy worried his lip. At this Kalyan eyed the other in wait for the tell of an oncoming joke. It was an awkward moment when none came, and he had to shake his head to dispel the antsy look on the child’s face. He clapped the apprentice on his shoulder.
“No. No one Anthony. It must have been a commission from Inland I was waiting on. Which means now they’ll be quite sore at my lack of response.” He presented the smith in training with a small coin, then ushered him in the direction of his own home. “Go tell your master I’ve received this, with my thanks as always.” While Anthony jogged away with a smile back in place, Kalyan was mulling over the probable contents what was in his hands.
There was no commission. Had there been one, his tip to Anthony would have been much more considerate. This meant there was a mystery letter sitting in the center of his home.
Making his way to his door, it clicked when it unlocked gave a loud crack when slammed shut; a book fell over from its haphazard stack by his feet. He didn’t bother to straighten it, just as he hadn’t bothered with the rest of the room for quite some time. Clothes fell to the floor when he pulled a chair from under them to sag into.
It was always easier to stand straightened and head high in the company of others- even those he didn’t know. It was how Kalyan had always been and something that would never change. No one ever got anything accomplished with a lazy stride and a whine in their voice. When you had things to do and people depending on you more effort was needed. And while he couldn’t sit in front of you and fake it completely, he could give you one hell of a poker face. But in here, behind closed doors.
Well. Kalyan Ashwin Umesh didn’t have to give a rat’s a**.
The table thumped when his head hit it. His coat itched him because of the musty heat that came from a smoldered fireplace, but he didn’t care to remove it. Nothing stirred within the room besides his own breathing. Peace. Silence. Rest. Boredom. Always in order.
It was awhile before he opened his eyes again. When he did, it was the letter he’d just acquired that was staring back at him.
The letter. Letters. Plural. Elyse. Damn.
He sat up and pulled the roll towards him. Next to it had been what he thought was from his sister as well. Looking at them both now, he should have realized firsthand the one he held had his name on its side with scrawly handwriting- trademark of the poor student his Elyse had been- and the other did not. He eyed the unmarked post warily. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, it even appeared slightly identical to the one he had a grip on.
Whatever it was could wait. He tended to one from his family first. The bi-weekly writings seemed more monthly as of late; but some of that could be attributed to his late responses when leaving them for the intentions of reading later. When he undid the twine, a plain wax candle clattered to the table. Curious, he prodded it before turning to the paper of explanation:
Hello Brother.
I’ve decided to keep the music box. Theodore gave a big fit when he heard of me ridding of it. I suppose our relations will soon run its course.
I bought this from your peddler. He says it is some sort of magic candle. I thought what better trinket to add to your strange collection. Be sure not to let your papers catch fire with those clumsy hands of yours.
Return to us soon.
Elyse.
It started out like any other, but felt cut short. It was a lot more direct; direct as in, never had Elyse asked outright for his return to Imisus. He abandoned the misshapen letter to hold up the white candle. Turning it this way and that, there were not special carvings or anything making it distinct. It the appearance of any other in his home; but Kalyan would admit he didn’t have any extended intelligence when it came to magic. It had a mainstay and was written about extensively in the few texts he had kept from Ardenth. But within his small hometown, nothing more existed than lighting tricks for children and a last wild defense of the religious for the plagued.
Which always ended in failure.
Across the room were a few embers still alight in the hearth, and so he put in the wick of the candle to check the strength of the wax. Kalyan placed it atop the self-made mantle and was pleased with the resulting flame. It melted slowly, evenly. But didn’t sparkle or pop as his sister might have anticipated it to do.
The corner of his mouth twitched. He wanted to believe that it was solely well wished intention, magic or not. It was quite the rarity that he be given something from his snarky sibling. As a child it was her favorite pastime; but when years passed, it became more of the form of an apology rather than anything.
Was she apologizing? If so, what in the hell for? The headache from earlier was rising again.
If there was anything wrong, which he suspected, he would have to ask. It dawned on him that there’d been no mention of their mother. His plan to read the second letter was ignored in favor for finding a blank piece of parchment and his fountain pen. He wrote quickly, furiously. He prayed the smith’s boy was still home and not on another errand run about the city.
He tried to squelch the anxiety in his hand and heart, but he somehow still managed to have a question for every kind of situation he could imagine put down in under a minute. In a hurry to leave, he’d almost walked out of the room before catching a glimpse of the still burning candle. He rushed over and blew at it, already turning to leave. Instead of extinguishing, it appeared to laugh at him as it moved wildly without going out. Kalyan gave a huff and licked a finger, pinching the wick.
“s**t!!” He raced over, which with the entirety of his room only took large two steps. “No no no no,“ he lifted his foot to smother the fire when it jumped out of the way.
“NO! Don’t squish me!”
Kalyan lowered his boot and stared. A faceless figurine in robes was shouting at him from below.
“I said I am sorry! I did not mean to hurt the paper! It was only a little hurt!” She waved a singed page at him, gingerly handling the burnt corner. “Do not squish me!”
For a long while he looked at the small glowing light- the source of the high pitched noises. It went on and on about an accident, gradating from guilt to anger at almost being stepped on. Kalyan’s face didn’t change when he bent his knee, as if afraid it would bite. The flaming figure noticed his caution and almost seemed to shrink on itself.
“You are staring…that is rude. Please do not stare at me.”
“What are you?” The flame had no eyes yet still seemed affronted. Its mouth, the only facial feature, was pitched downwards.
“I am me. What are you?"
“I am a person; and the owner of this place.” He was authorative, which seemed to quiet the creature. “How did you get into my home?”
The little nubs of light which Kalyan assumed were hands shifted to and fro across the edge of the parchment three times it’s body size as if it were a child. “Well. I was here. That’s all. Or, I was up there,” it pointed to the mantle above, “when I felt I was no longer tall; and I could move myself. But I could not move very well. So I fell. I was practicing. It’s really easy now! And I was looking at all the papers on the walls when you startled me. That is why I fell again, and the paper was…burning. But I stopped it, and can move good enough now. See?” It gave a demonstration of floating end to end of the board underneath it. “There are so many papers. I will not fall anymore, promise. But I don’t want you to worry. Might they be moved?”
While the flame had been rambling on about its adventure, inquisitive eyes had observed that indeed the candle he’d lit earlier was missing from above the hearth. Was this the magic Elyse had mentioned? Not simply a lighting trick, but one that came alive, burned his notes, and spoke too much?
Kalyan scooped up the figure that barely fit into his palm, mindful of its head. He placed it upon the table and picked up a few books with pages from elsewhere strewn around. “Don’t touch anything.” He sifted through pages and scanned his own writings.
The little flame averted a pot of ink and looked beyond the edge workspace. “What are you doing?”
“If magic is so powerful as to animate what was never alive, then how is it we have no cure to sickness or revived fallen?”
“Magic?”
“I suppose if were to bring the dead back to life, the diseased would still have their sickness. It wouldn’t make sense to do so in such case. But there are too many advantages otherwise for such a technique not to be so widely used.” The big man was lost in his own thoughts, glancing over anything that might aid in an understandable conclusion while throwing others aside. He lifted a small collection and returned to the wooden table. “And if you are magic; I am not a caster. My only intervention was lighting you. Are there enchantments that can create from only the burn of a dying coal? There’s so little I know on the subject. It could be something else entirely.” The weight dropped made the legs of the furniture groan, and the flame struggled to gain composure.
“You’re saying so many things, but I can’t understand. I’m just me. Maybe you are thinking about this too hard.”
“You’re born from a candle, but are you truly alive at all? Could I dissect you? Is there substance within your form? Or is there nothing but tangible glow beneath your robes? Not that is easily understandable indeed-”
The fire above its crown flashed brighter, and the ball that was its head titled down. “U-underneath. I. I don’t think I like that.”
He looked up from ‘A Child’s Guide to Magic.’ “You’re bashful.”
“U-um!” She hopped back but collided with a pen in its holster. Trying to keep the object as tall as her from falling, she was all flailing clothes and stutters.
“Why is that? You’ve no feet or face.” He grabbed up the pen from the small hands, leaving the fire with nothing to distract itself. It turned and puffed its chest out.
“S-so?”
“So you probably don’t have any other features. Why are you embarrassed?” Her tiny mouth opened and closed, and then she made a little noise that sounded a little bit like a whining puppy when Kalyan stared for too long. “Well, if you were created with clothes, it would also imply the sense of modesty.” He flipped a page of the children’s novel, leaning back into the table chair. The candle deflated, relieved “It talks of magic just being. How is it something is just supposed to suddenly burn.”
“Burn.”
Kalyan frowned at the reiteration. “Yes, burn. What your head is doing. That little flame is so bright it’s a surprise you don’t simply ignite as a whole.”
She smiled at this, dancing merrily around his texts in display of herself. “I am pretty bright aren’t I? Have you seen anything brighter? I never go out you know. I’m fairly sure I can be like this all the time!”
He didn’t question her assumption, instead focused switching reading material and penning his thoughts before forgetting their sequence. It was only a few moments of looking, but he was quickly getting frustrated with the idea of magic and its forms. He would have to talk to someone more experience on subject if he was to solidify his theory. Perhaps this was all even very archaic, and he was simply behind the times as he never had any interest or time to visit one of the prestigious mage branches.
Kalyan finished half of the page he was on when he turned it over, realizing a little too late that what he was using as scratch had already had his markings on the other side:
Possession, or implement of punishment in the form of a talisman? A living entity within mechanics?
(ℬ) Plagues: creatures with seemingly no purpose.
Pets of the Nobles, born from objects or sickness.
There was much written down, all rumors, but only two lines were circled.
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2012 9:49 pm
Fix It!As it won't fix itself...Unsettled by the unique gift and letter from his sister, Kalyan avoids the anxiety of waiting on a response by finding work.
Though his last job left him in a bit of a...predicament.INCOMPLETE
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2012 9:55 pm
✪ The End of Assumptions 'Idiot.' [Letter]
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Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2012 10:39 pm
✪ Be Still And await your reckoning [Orp]Baited with coin and promises of an answer, Kalyan is dragged into politics where he becomes a witness to a situation grander than himself. The safeguard of complacency is no longer an option.Complete After the anxious rush to make it to his astrolabe, Kalyan had turned without any time to register the next turn of events. Someone was speaking. The key phrases he’d caught being ‘not traitors,’ ‘plague general,’ and ‘Waldgrave.’ He knew he should have been paying attention, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of everything being over should he lose something he now knew was much more significant than he seemed. The snatched treasure in hand, he’d turned to look for the children amongst the crowd and instead was staring into the face of what he now known for a mage. He was reaching for him; and the impulse to punch came a second too late.
In the next moment he was staring blearily at what looked to be a tiled floor. A sense of vertigo was pounding in his head; eyes rolling in their sockets trying to register something, anything. Then all at once, his mind was clear- though the nausea became more acute as his mind cleared and nerves jumped to life. Kalyan was on his hands and knees, the rich pattern of the floor coming into focus. His head shot up to gather his surroundings, then dropped quickly knowing he was alone. A glance right showed him that the astrolabe hadn’t been taken. Relief flooded out from the single breath he heaved, and he weakly reached for the metal.
Kalyan collected himself: the astrolabe in the crook of one arm, dusting himself off with the other. Somehow, they’d gotten him out in the same manner he came. He recognized the hall he was in and had no mind to linger in such a place. Angry steps echoed around him until he reached the outside.
He did not expect was the ornately dressed man rushing towards him at an equal break neck speed. Kalyan found himself wanting to hit someone for the second time in under five minutes, but again he was robbed of the chance. A small purse was shoved in his face, jangled once for good measure to convey the wealth within. Light brown eyes stared at the offending object with surprise, and then his face crossed into disdain. The bag was snatched, and Kalyan ignored the hospitality to continue on a long, irritated journey back to Merrimead. A surprise carriage would make the travel no less bothersome- he actually found himself somehow becoming even more irritated. A snipe order of travel to his temporary home was directed to the driver, and the man sat back into the plush seats with no sense of comfort. It would only be an hour or so to arrive from Knotwood, and yet even that seemed too long.
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Posted: Wed Jun 13, 2012 5:15 pm
A Sour Aftertase
Leaves sour attitudes
Luci was humming while she primped up a small empty inkwell full of dandelions. Aadesh had offered to help her, but when rejected he settled for shuffling the scattered papers on the floor into order; as task assigned to him amongst the plagues as Luci wasn’t allowed off the table when Kalyan was gone, and the cat was too lazy to be of any real use.
Gingerly placing a sheet on top of another, a sudden gush of wind had the whole stack strewn apart. “Idiots! Pompous. Self-serving. ASSHOLES!” A slam accompanied the shouting. There was also the sound of books dropping, and Aadesh looked up to see a giant foot coming for him. He dodged an angry heel that was aimed for the shabby armoire behind him, the items atop it rattling. Some hardcovers flew from above as a result, and Aadesh ran to get out of range. He held firm to his place behind a table leg, while Luci took residence behind a wooden bowl still holding the contents of the morning’s breakfast.
“Stop! Kal!”
It wasn’t until Luci’s squeaking was at a hysterical level that the whirlwind that was their owner had steeled himself. With heavy breaths, the astrolabe he’d been holding the whole time was dropped, making the red flame jump with how close it was.
Kalyan dropped into his chair, hand covering his head. Luci’s mouth wobbled pathetically. “W-what happened? You’re home so fast…”
“…I’m not sure,” His voice came out muffled.
“Huh? S-so why are you upset?” Luci took a chance and slowly removed herself from her hiding place.
“Because I was almost branded a traitor by the Emperor. That’s why.”
“O-oh….” She put a sleeve to his arm, her touch more like a wisp of a feather than anything tangible. “I’m sorry. But..but you said almost, right? Meaning you aren’t really in trouble?”
“So it sounded. Too much happened to be certain.”
“Such as?” Aadesh finally spoke up, signaling to Ketto for help onto the table. The cat plague appeared from under the bed to take its companion by his collar, mindful of its fiery crown. A few nimble leaps and they were topside, Ketto seemingly content to curl at the edge and resume his disturbed nap. Aadesh clicked his tongue at the other’s lack of interest.
“There were accusations being shouted all over. At one point there was a babbling woman covered in blood. People died.” Luci gave a little gasp. Kalyan finally lifted his head, but still tugged his at his curls in confusion. “It was all just a big mess. And after all of that, I don’t even know who was in charge. Which one of them planned this.”
“I see.” The little messenger put his sleeves together in thought. “So in the end, you’re upset about a situation you don’t even understand.”
The wood rumbled as his fist slammed down. “That’s exactly the point. I don’t understand! I went for answers, and then they try to steal from me! Threaten me!”
Aadesh was giving Kalyan a cryptic look. Although he didn’t have eyes, it was obvious that Aadesh would have been staring up at the human. He didn’t ask what was to be stolen, but he didn’t need to. The only time Kalyan overreacted was when concerning the putrid instrument. “And you would have been rid of your burden. Why not let them have it?” If Kalyan had been paying attention, he would have realized how entirely unconvincing the black candle sounded.
“Why would I let them take away the only thing keeping me alive!”
The shout settled over the room. It must have been quite the amusing picture: an overgrown man staring down a ball of light that could only fit a thimble of cloth, not even a tenth of his size. “Another over dramatic conclusion.” Aadesh turned away, and Kalyan clenched his fist to keep from hitting the small body. Luci sensed the tension and held tighter to his arm, shaking with the uncertainty of what to do. “You don’t know that for certain. All you have are your ideas and paranoia. You leave here without it all the time and always come very much fine.”
He didn't miss the twinge of bitterness, though for what reason it was there Kalyan couldn't say for sure. He squinted at the black flame all the same. “People at that meeting risked their lives to take back those plagued things. Some relented, and others were ended with a blade for trying otherwise!”
“Boys, please-”
“A situation you are not foreign to. You know that is how the militia works. It’s no reason to assume your astrolabe is a tether to life.”
“Aadesh!”
“Everyone else on that ship is dead. All but me and a man named Laurentis. And he must have a plagued as well, to even have been there! What more proof could there be!”
“Again with this. Other men could have had plagues and still perished. Have you kept up with every crew member washed abroad? Can you recite all their names? Do you know their stories?”
“I know that I’m alive, and they’re not-”
“Are you absolutely sure? There is a lot you seem to be unaware of. Did you even know about Laurentis before you went to the assembly?”
At the man’s lack of response, Aadesh nodded and started to clean the mess that reassembled itself on the dining table. “You’ve an obsession,” he said with a flat certainty while replacing a fallen dandelion. “You blame that thing for your troubles, yet are resilient of the notion that it is the key to solving those same problems. You don’t know a single thing about the world around you or what we are. Perhaps you should focus on finding out the truth, rather than fumbling around in the dark and throwing tantrums.”
Kalyan stayed silent.
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