Welcome to Gaia! ::

Erintis stood far behind the crowd her robes covering the small gift that she had picked up, it was unopened only because she had heard nothing was in them and they were wrapped so prettily.

When she had first awoke in this new land she felt relieved, the only thing she had retained from prior to her awakening was that she used to be a scholar...she understood and knew, she was smart and yet that seemed the only thing she could remember. After the many years of being a resident more memories had come back, she had felt so comfortable in the ancient Greek garb and she smiled knowingly she had always worn such outfits in a prior life. She had also found her calling here, she was a scholar, and an oracle of sorts. Something was still missing in her mind but mixing herbs to create visions was something that happened one day, the same day the flood of information of her past life came back to her. Smiling slightly she finally made her way to the gatekeeper,

"Your highness. I humbly offer my services. I am but a simple scholar but I am a great one."

There was no reason to give an elaborate speech, the gatekeeper would know of her services after he had kept and watched them for so long. As she stepped back still in a low bow her robes shifted slightly to show a very prominent marking of a key. However, there were still some memories that Erintis was still not ready to face.

Henry watched and listened as the others gave their diatribes, worry settling in his heart. He had spoken plain and true, but he was but a simple Keymaster, outmatched and outclassed by others. One, in particular, stood out to him, and that was the kitsune. He glimmered in the violet light, something bright and true, a little bit of wildness in him. The line of his arm, the curve of his lips-- Ash saw people as keys, and perhaps that was incorrect, but who could fault him?

Keys were all he knew, and this Remi was a fantastic specimen. A seed of jealousy sprung up in his heart, growing over it like the vines did to the overrun labyrinth walls. Henry's relationship with the King was purely professional, and often taken care of by a third party-- but this kitsune seemed close to him.

Something unfamiliar in him rose up, twisting into something red-poker-hot, strange and violent. However, as Remi continued, Henry quashed it. He had no reason to be upset: Remi seemed to be a friend to the King, and that was far better than a foe vying for the position of Queen. That would be enough.

Henry scurried closer to the kitsune while others talked and mingles.

"Hello," the blonde said, his voice quiet but genuine. "I hope you get to be the Gatekeeper's chosen."

He couldnt help the smile that touched his lips as he stepped away from his own confessional, his spilling of thoughts. If he really wanted to, he would have continued on. Though really, who wanted to hear that? Just the thought of it almost sent a laugh from his lips, his painted eyes hinting at great amusement on his part. Anyone whom knew him would know that he was not one to hold back, he was pushy and he was outspoken. He would tell you his deepest secrets if you asked, and yet he would keep the secrets those confided in him.

At the touch to his side he reached out of reaction more than anything, recognizing the flash of black and the swish of the tail. He clashed the man on his shoulder briefly, before letting him go. The feline had been someone that Remi had talked to in the past, and spent time with. It was nice knowing that he was helpful to others in finding their memories, being there one of the longest he had seen many a new person arrive and grow.

He knew a lot of the people here.

Some of them really had been around almost as long as he, one such other being the hushed voice that almost startled the man. Turning around, he relaxed a moment later as he saw Henry. Small, quiet, Henry. A jingle of metal on metal was all the warning the man had, a arm tossed across his shoulders as he leaned against the blacksmith. Amusement danced through his dual colored eyes as he hugged against the other. "Thanks, sweetheart." Looking briefly towards Thackery, his eyes traveled back to the other form below him. Really he was so short... but then again Remis lean and lanky 6'2" was not easily matched either. "Just so you know, darl, you would make a brilliant knight you know." Remi was proud of him for speaking up when asked, for approaching and saying his peace. Henry hid too much in that damn hole of his, something the kitsune had on more than one occasion taken upon himself to drag him out of.

She could have laid there forever, in that pool.

Thoughtless. Motionless.

Soulless.

Had she not already been dead, maybe she would have let herself drown there, in the silvery waters. The way it lapped against her cheek, washed over her body, cool and inviting against her skin... it was comforting. It allowed all her memories to wash away, allowed what should have been crippling to dissolve into nothing. Her eyes were still closed... (when had they closed? when she had died?) ... it would have been a simple task, letting the pool envelope her completely. Sink beneath the water. Allow the bubbles to pass between her lips in a slow exhale, until they were gone. Sink into the quiet, endless abyss.

It would have been a soothing death. Nothing like the arrow which had come out of nowhere, piercing her throat from behind. There had been no acceptance, only the terror as she had clawed at her neck, and slowly drowned in her own blood.

But then again, as soon as she passed through the marbled gates, she remembered nothing of it, anyway.

~~~

Petra had not been in Purgatory very long. Time didn't seem to have any meaning, here, but there was a certain amount of measurement, judged relatively by those who had come to the violet world before or after yourself. That, and of course, by the keys inscribed in the left arm of each of the occupants of Purgatory. Although the keys did not measure time so much as experience, they were a general indicator of how long individuals had been there. Those new to Purgatory almost always avoided the reverie of the pools, at least for a while, perhaps fearful of the painful memories they were sure to invoke. Despite the gentleness of the Gatekeeper's promises, it was a difficult thing, accepting that there would be no pain in remembrance. And while this was not always the case, and some proved bolder than others, it was a good rule of thumb. The blue kitsune, for example, had been here for quite a long time, his key tracing elegant patterns along the soft skin of his forearm. He had been there as long as she could remember, had known nearly everyone even when she had just arrived. The blonde with whom he spoke now, however, was considerably newer. His key was still 'tarnished,' the young man sporting few, if any, supernatural markers.

Both had been here longer than herself. Her own key was simple and crude. She had not obtained a single memory, in the short time she had been in the underground world. Not out of fear, but out of a lack of need. She moved through the world as a ghost, speaking to none, interacting with few. She would not allow her guardian to assist her, ignoring his beckoning towards the silent streams which held the metaphorical key to her life. Her only clue was the star-shaped wound at the hollow of her throat, filled by the Gatekeeper with some unnamed violet substance, causing it to resemble a large jewel of amethyst.

She was waiting. Waiting for... something. That something she could not name, knew not what it was, but it gripped her tightly, even in death, even without the memories which would have made it clear. She would not leave without... it. Elysium meant nothing, was nothing more than an empty promise without the thing which would leave her whole again.

Whatever souls are made of...

Her eyes had been open, but it was only when the voice rose above the idle chatter that she refocused them, midnight blue eyes sliding slowly to focus on the dark-haired leader of Purgatory. Besides her eyes, however, she did not stir. Standing in the garden of weeds, Petra listened silently to the speech with a stony expression, unmoved by the Gatekeeper's words. She may very well have been a marble statue. Even when his voice died down, and the others resumed, both to approach him or to continue their own conversations, it was a relatively long span of time before she finally began to step forward, towards the man robed in purple. When those in front of her had spoken their piece, she stepped forward to stand before him, focused on him with that same, untouched expression.

He said she did not have to speak.

And so she didn't. It was unnecessary.

A man such as the Gatekeeper could stare into her very soul.

For one who lingered at the fringe of the crowd, the spectacle of the kingdom gathered, the Gatekeeper and his speech, the figures that stepped forth one by one... it was as inspiring as it was humbling.

Dull fingertips traced the simplistic key so familiar, even hidden under thin dark gloves. Tiny silver bangles clinked and chimed with the movement the pale girl fell back to time and time again. Agsilved had been among those to pick up one of the presents when she first arrived. She had been among those to rip open the packaging with little concern. Gifts were made to be opened, were they not? Even if they were empty. Oh, she had to check to be sure, even after hearing what the Gatekeeper said. To see with her own eyes that nothingness was all she held. Her curiosity would not allow her anything less, though she'd been met with disappointment to see he had not lied. Instead, the ribbon became important where it was still pinched between her fingers. Viewed as a tangible gift, as something to be kept safe, it was tied around one of the bangles, nearest the key marking.

It was proof the moment had occurred, that the gift had existed. With only her name and the clothes on her back... it was difficult to confirm she had truly existed before emerging from the lake a length back. Though the guide had confirmed this was not her first self, and the purple alloy glistened in slender gashes across her chest, arms, legs... they were not the proof she wished for. They were not her. Whatever she might have been.

Purple eyes closed briefly before bare feet began to move, slipping through the crowd. Chin forward, back straight. She felt.. exposed. Even under the dark cloth that wrapped over one shoulder and dipped and tucked around her middle before left to hang to her knees. And a corset, black with silver accents shinning, that held the cloth in place. A thought occurred, curious if any further layers would dispel the sensation. She'd tried wearing more before, but the feeling of being weighed down and constricted had unnerved her. She would have to simply cope with the sensation, in that light. Yet this brought a smile to her lips. Confidence swelled, her muscles relaxed.

She would cope. She would overcome. Possessed a gift within her, did she? There was no proof in her hands or before her eyes of such a claim, but perhaps if the Gatekeeper believed as much... possessed this faith...

"Sire. I am called Agsilved." Bowing at the waist, she kept a calm face though excitement seemed to pulse and bombard her systems. That smile still hadn't vanished. "I have not spent as much time here as others, and though I might not yet recall what I once was... I offer my strength in battle to serve." Was that confidence speaking, or recklessness? "I am a combatant. I fear little. For what I do not remember of what I was, I will take as a chance to prove the fighter I most certainly am now."

She was silent, small, alone. There was nothing to say as she'd moved along the path, guided by a figure whose soft words rang hollow in her ears. They guided her by holding her hand and leading her ever so slowly over twists and turns, occasionally whispering something in a voice she registered only to having her name. Temes.

A child. A child named Temes, lost. So lost, and burned. Ashes, soot, she was nothing more and would become nothing less. There was only moving forward now, only taking herself into the place before where weeds grew up and there was a man waiting for her. She needed to go there, the guide had said, they were always waiting for her. The king, the key, her memories.

More than a name, more than just Temes.

The little one was pale, her vibrant eyes the only part of her body that seemed to show any sign of willing spark or energy. Hair that should have been lustrous and free clung to her cheeks like angry fingers, skin that should have been glowing with health presented itself as a dried sheet only stretched to cover her bones. She was thin, painfully so, and every step she took required no small effort to move from both herself and her guide to pull her along. Legs were not strong and were bowed at the knees, fingers were nothing more than bone and looked far more clawed than a hand should be. It was as though a model from a science museum had been given life to walk free and the sounds that escaped from protesting joints added a haunting melody to the path they took.

They reached the garden where she collapsed on the fringes, the guide gone and no longer there to support her. She'd been left only with a name, no purpose or goal, and the weak legs that had carried her thus far gave out beneath her frame. People had gathered around a man, calling him Gatekeeper, lauding him with praise and offerings.

Oh! How she would have liked to call to him, to join them all!

But her legs would not stand, she would not move. Any effort by her arms to raise herself left her with a bitter taste. There was no strength in her bones, no will in her body to raise herself above that of which she was. Her station, her location? Which was it she wanted to move from, to become better than? She knew only her name, only that she was Temes and only that she wore the robes of the dead. Childish clothing, made for someone younger than her age?

Did she know her own age or did she care to know? She was dressed barefoot, the back of her gown wide open as if showing her back was a mark of shame. She didn't understand, wouldn't understand, and so she cast her red eyes blazing to the ground. The kingdom, this place, the Gatekeeper among the weeds and flowers and the adoration of people.

She was lost, Temes was lost, and her red eyes wished to dim and lead herself back to the pool. The key on her arm was visible, nothing more.

The bookshelf really had been too tall after all.

It was a beautiful thing, really, made of a deep, glossy cherrywood that shone brightly when cleaned properly, its shelves laden with volumes upon volumes of various books of a remarkable variety. There were thick leatherbound journals of all sorts, thick, heavy textbooks stuffed to the brim with more information than one might think was possible; rolled up pieces of parchment tucked into the cracks until there was little to no space on any of the shelves. It smelled musty and of ink - a scent that was very familiar and satisfying to those who spent a great deal of time in the book room.

Sparrow did not remember much else except for the book room and its one single bookshelf. There were probably more, but time had a funny way of making his memories seem little more than just a cloudy haze of white. Not that he particularly minded; it was a pleasant life here in this violet colored world, a life he rather liked, in spite of the fact that some might have found it dark and somewhat gloomy.

It was a curious sort of gloominess; one that Sparrow found he quite liked.

He examined the box with interest, only raising his gaze when the Gatekeeper spoke. Carefully he lowered the gift, his eyes involuntarily moving to trace the mark he knew lay on his left forearm, beneath the peacock-blue sleeve of his shirt. It was perhaps not as bright as some might have been, but it was there nonetheless and he took pride in it, made himself comfortable with simply remembering every now and then.

He stepped towards the Gatekeeper and pressed a hand to his chest, bending low in a deep bow towards their leader.

"Gatekeeper," said Sparrow, straightening with a light smile on his face, one gloved hand still at his chest, the other tucked neatly against the small of his back. "I am called Sparrow, but you may call me whatever you may like."

The smile was gentle. He ducked his head again.

"Whatever I have is yours. I dedicate myself to you and this kingdom. Whatever role you find suitable for me is enough, whether it be that of a Wanderer, or that of one of the Found. I trust your judgment and your guidance."

That being said, Sparrow stood back up and offered the Gatekeeper another smile before he stepped away, moving to stand beside one he knew - the one with the moniker of Jack.

"Well met, Jack."