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 Posted: Tue Aug 18, 2015 3:17 am
His wonder was just as he'd left it; the foreboding black stone mountain looming over them, the layer of ash, light and powdery as snow, that coated every pliable surface, more of the stuff ever falling from the equally gray sky above. Even the traces of his and Methone's last visit had been washed away already. The air here was not cold, not warm, not inviting nor forbidding.
It was, however, quiet. Eerily so. The only sound was the wonder's page himself as he cleared his throat, trying not to fidget. He didn't want to be here. Some part of him was already wondering if he really should have brought someone so new to him here, but again. Scholomance was a fellow page of this planet, and he had asked. It didn't seem right to refuse, whether or not he was wholly comfortable with it.
"So. This is it." He pointed ahead. "If we go straight, there's a big hall there beneath the mountain, and it connects to a series of room - I know at least one of the rooms contains books with names. I don't know about the rest." He hadn't gone beyond that last time; the vision of the white haired apparition had been too much for him. "Ah, also - don't step on the mounds."
He pointed to one just ahead of them, a swell in the otherwise smooth surface of ash. Though there weren't many at the fringes of the mountain's land where they were standing, there were plenty more of them dotting the landscape up ahead, ever increasing in number. "They're bodies. Well, bones now. I don't know the story behind them."
There. That seemed to cover all the bases of what he did and didn't know, didn't it?
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Posted: Thu Aug 20, 2015 5:30 am
When Scholomance first realized that he stood on Saturn, on Mont Blonc, his gaze focused immediately on the peak of the mountain. His mouth opened slightly, as was common when staring at a sight so grand, but the moment a piece of ash lighted on his face mask, the page was finally glad for it. Then he looked toward the sky, lids low, to see the steel grey overhead. The ash looked like charnel snowflakes touching down in a light breeze.
Beyond the two, across the fields of heavy ash, he found no footprints. If Mont Blonc traveled here before, all trace of it vanished. He imagined that the pace of ash fall would cover their own tracks by the end of the day. The mountain lacked a great many edges where ash had collected and provided a deceptively smooth surface. He couldn't begin to guess how deep the ash went. The sign of the mounds was of some fortune in that regard - it could not be as deep as the grasses on ida if mounds existed at all. Was someone buried here, then? That was the most logical conclusion he could find based on earth tradition. And what of Saturn? Did they do the same? He couldn't guess.
At least, until Mont Blonc informed him that they were, indeed, bodies.
Grey collected in his hair and his companions, aging their appearances slightly. "Looks cheery," Scholomance volunteered dryly. "Can't wait to be shown around. Let's go inside - pretty sure ash is made of fiberglass and I'd rather not be picking that out of my scalp for weeks." For once he didn't peel the mask from his face when he spoke. "I don't want to stand around and wind up joining those mounds, either."
Scholomance started to think of the similarities between his wonder and Mont Blonc - the dreariness came to mind, alongside the presence of bones. Human, in the case of his wonder, but what of Mont Blonc's? This could be a pet cemetery for all he knew. The mounds didn't look it by their dimensions, though. The page shuddered, his skin crawling while he skirted one of the humps of ash. What would happen if he fell on one?
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Posted: Mon Aug 24, 2015 2:26 am
If he fell on one, he'd find himself tangled in a mess of long dry bones, the same as Mont Blonc had when he'd accidentally stumbled into one the last time - a few stray bones lingered here and there, probably nudged by accident this close to the bottom (again, Mont Blonc had made this unfortunate mistake), crackling and snapping with minimal resistance underfoot. "We didn't have too much trouble getting it out last time - the ash, I mean, " and frankly, the page was trying to keep some semblance of conversation going. Could anyone really blame him? - the mountain was quiet, unnervingly so.
The place looked no different than the last time, really - the archway with the dogs' heads on either side of it. The seemingly endless darkness that lay within until they strode inside and were engulfed by it. Then, the torches ignited as though by their own free will, and the only change was that this time they lit faster, brighter even perhaps. They illuminated the rounded room, walls covered with the same varied pictures and lost words, and the amount of decay was about the same: this was visibly a very, very old room.
"That way leads to a library of names, " Mont Blonc pointed down the hall he and Methone had treaded the last time; there were several others, all sprawling off in different directions, deeper and further into the mountain. "I have no idea where the rest go - perhaps more of the same." Honestly, he sounded about as tense as he felt. "All I know is that the dead are not inside." At least, not physically speaking.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 1:23 am
"And you didn't feel that awful splinter feeling that you can't seem to chase away?" His voice sounded too loud against the oppressive quietude of the mountain. Their footsteps thundered while they crossed through the thick layer of ash and left behind their own obvious imprints of trespassing. That's what it felt like, wasn't it? Yes - like they now encroached upon a mournful silence and stirred it away.
The dog heads seemed an odd touch, and Isaiah was brought back to thoughts of Anubis. He doubted this mountain held any relation to Egyptian myth, but the presence of both dog heads and bodies brought to mind the guardian of the afterlife. He kept comments to himself, lest he somehow disturb the mountain by saying so. Instead he followed behind Mont Blonc and looked toward the walls in the tapering light. He surmised that outdoor exposure took a great toll on these walls, for they looked weakened irreparably and eroded into nonsense. If someone left notations or prayers here, they long vacated the mountain.
Scholomance startled visibly when the torches flamed to life, and he glowered at them afterward for their inexplicable eruption. Mont Blonc didn't light them himself; Scholomance imagined that they started due to 'magic'.
He felt far too uncomfortable when using magic as sound reasoning.
Scholomance's gaze swept over nonsensical glyphs and a surfeit of hallways until he completed a turn about the room. His mouth pulled taut in a cringe while he tried to elucidate the purpose for such a room. The carvings into the wall meant very little to the page; he guessed it might relate to the history of Saturn, or in this particular location. "So you have a records room and this... Round thing. And all these pictures, here." A sweeping gesture encompassed half the room. "And bodies outside. It seems to me that your wonder has it backward, Mont Blonc." He clapped the taller man on the shoulder. "You're supposed to put your bodies in the tomb, not around it.
"But jokes aside, I'm going to guess that the names you mentioned might relate to the people buried here, and that these... Writings on the wall might explain what happened to the lot of them? Do you know anything else about this?" Scholomance estimated that if he did, Mont Blonc would've surrendered the information by now.
Since they no longer stood out in the ash field, Scholomance managed to swallow some of his fears about an inherent sentience to these wonders and started toward one of the hallways, facing his estimation of east. It looked no darker than the remainder, which offered no glimpse down into their depths. "If you know which ones go where, why don't we check some of the ones you haven't seen?" Arms folded behind his back as the page leaned forward, peering into the impenetrable darkness.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 2:27 am
"I don't know what I felt."
The page's voice seemed strangely hollow, then, lacking its softness as he watched his own feet sink into the ash, one step at a time, trying not to catch any more remains beneath his boots. For all his odd, underlying protectiveness of his mountain, Mont Blonc was painfully aware of how little attachment he actually felt to his wonder. He'd hoped for so much before he'd come here the first time, even if he'd hold himself it was stupid to get his hopes up. - he'd been right. He'd been right to see the Mont Blanc mountain on Earth and hope that this place would be more of the same, the mountain peaks stunning against blue skies, life abundant throughout.
He was afraid of his wonder for what it was, afraid of death and what it might hold - but that was an instinctive reaction, not an attachment. This place, horrifying as it was, didn't feel special - it didn't feel like it spoke to him - it didn't feel like his, even if he knew it to be so.
No wonder he was such an awful page.
Being here with Methone had been reassuring, and she had been all adventure and warmth for him; there was something to be said for coming with Scholomance, though. The looks he threw the torches and the glyphs, the way he looked at things - the 'backwards' comment earned an unexpected peal of laughter from Mont Blonc, and even he was taken aback by it, his voice ringing loud and clear as a bell and echoing through the long halls. "Sorry, just - " He was still chuckling; did he really have anything to apologize for? It was more reflex to say it than anything. "I said the same thing, last time."
It was kind of selfish - but that's what it was - he was sort of relieved that another page, like him, had some of the same reactions he did. Discomfort. A little fear. Similar thoughts. Scholomance wouldn't know it, but it took some of the pressure off, made him feel a little less inadequate as a page of Saturn.
But then the laughter was gone, and Mont Blonc was left to shrug, his gaze falling to the aged floor. "I don't. I don't know a damn thing." Scholomance also wouldn't know him enough to know how unlike him it was when he said it. "I don't know if it's that my wonder doesn't bother to speak to me, or if I'm just too thick-headed to hear it." Maybe that's why he felt okay saying things like this now when he hadn't to Aegir or Methone - they would comfort him, tell him it would be okay, reassure him.
He didn't want to be reassured. He didn't really think it was okay. And maybe Scholomance understood - or even if he didn't, at least he'd just let Mont Blonc's feelings lay out in the open. "I saw a ghost, last time - I think. I was the only one that could. It scared me, so I left." He gave a brief, fleeting, and all together sad smile before he took Scholomance up on his suggestion, heading for one of the halls to the left. None of them were marked as especially different than the others. "Did you have anything like that, on your wonder? - what was it like?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 2:49 am
"I'm not sure they speak." Scholomance spared a last glance at the glyphed walls. "Or, well, I suppose this one does. But considering that neither one of us is an anthropologist last I checked, or a linguist, I think we'd have difficulty discerning what it's trying to say. But, from some of the talk I've heard about wonders, I suppose we are to assume that we'll somehow come into the knowledge magically." He spat the final word in disgust. Scholomance hated attributing anything to a force as nebulous as magic for the excuse that it sounded. As someone who continually delved into the facts for more accurate appraisals on items, he seldom ever left a transaction to chance and word of mouth.
The page about-faced, arms still behind his back, and paced whimsically toward his peer. He halted at conversational distance and whistled at the mention of the supernatural in a playful manner. It sounded shrill, and traveled a great deal down the myriad corridors. He imagined that playing a band in here would prove intensely punishing to any audience for how the sound compounded on itself. "A ghost, you say?" His expression lit up considerably. "How interesting. What did this ghost look like? Did he say anything? Well, I suppose you didn't stick around to say hi and ask him how his day was going, but if he wailed anything in particular after you while you dashed away..." Scholomance trailed off and chewed his bottom lip. "In any case, a ghost is certainly something. Maybe that was this wonder's 'voice'."
Which led him to wonder if Scholomance had a voice of its own - or if that foreboding sentience needed no words to express itself. "I did not have any ghosts at my wonder. I didn't see anything living, either." His jubilance diminished significantly at the mention of it - at the memories of it. "What I saw was a swamp. It didn't look terribly interesting either - most of the trees looked petrified, almost. And..." Scholomance gritted his teeth and suched in a breath. "Then I found a lake. It was pretty foggy, but it looked quite vast. And there were little knobs and things poking out of the bottom. It was clear enough to see the bottom, by the way, even though there was some kind of odd orange dust further out that must've settled to the base of the lake. I reached for one, and when I pulled it out, I was holding a jawbone." He flashed a smile. "I left in a hurry. Remembered I left my coffee pot on." He assumed Mont Blonc would pick up on the humor.
"So! Sounds like we both have cheery places to babysit." Maybe this was what Nadia meant on the bond between the knights, as they shared a dolorous lot. 'Misery loves company' came t mind, though this wasn't how it was intended, he assumed.
"You said this place has a lot of names in it. Have you found your own or something? Or anyone you know?"
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 3:30 am
Mont Blonc arched a brow at the way Scholomance hurled the last word like a javelin, although he couldn't say he didn't understand. Though his frustrations might be a little removed from the other page's. "Funny, how we're expected to use magic to understand when we can't use it to defend ourselves to begin with." He didn't exactly sound as bitter when he said it; just tired. One too many failed fights with nothing but a pen at his disposal. Yes, he was improving, and yes, he wouldn't keep trying. But it was a hard, uphill climb against his own insecurities and short-comings time and time again as Aegir or Methone or someone else entirely kept having to sweep in and save him; and he couldn't even return the favor.
If it wasn't for them, he wondered if he might have already given up again and returned to France; as it was now, there was no more running away from this for him.
Even if the whistle had been shrill enough to make his head ache - and it wasn't - it was still a welcome momentary reprieve from the silence. "Yes, a ghost. White hair. Dark eyes. Pale, " he rattled off the familiar characteristics. "About what you'd expect from a ghost, really. Only - " He frowned, still chilled by the memory. " - only I'm pretty sure it was me? - when I thought about it later, I think - I don't know." He rolled his shoulders unconsciously; they got stiff sometimes, unsurprising given how often he slouched. "I can't begin to explain these things. All I know is he looked at me and asked, 'How long do you have?'" Then he'd grabbed Methone and left without looking back, although he'd thought about it plenty since. Now and then the white haired specter had flashed in his nightmares alongside Plou and his corruption, the Dead King, the warped future.
He had thought the dreams of a dark future that might be were a sign from his wonder, or the Code. That maybe coming back would help to make sure they stopped, and that they would never come to pass. Look at how wrong he'd been. - but at least he'd gotten something precious out of it. Nadia. Colin. Others, too. Even this moment now, bittersweet yes, but fulfilling somehow, simply sharing something like this with one of the pages he felt so inexplicably drawn to.
'Because we share a bond.'
Mont Blonc stiffened, for a moment, and then shut his eyes, just too long for a blink. That had to have been his imagination; his nerves were frayed up here.
The page listened intently as Scholomance spoke of his own wonder, his attention rapt and completely undivided. This was, after all, one of the first times he was really hearing about a Saturn wonder besides his own. He cringed visibly by the end, remembering the crunch of bones beneath his boot, and could distinctly imagine what the revelation about the knobs under the water must have been like. The smile that graced his lips at the humor was genuine, though, and he gave a short laugh. "Mon Dieu... is there anywhere on this planet that isn't riddled with corpses?" and really, Mont Blonc sounded so utterly exasperated as he said it, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked. "A fitting trade though, " because he hadn't forgotten Scholomance's proposal before, and he addressed it almost playfully now, a wry smile on his face. "A dead mountain for a dead swamp. - are you planning to go back?"
As if to explain, he amended quickly, "I hadn't been, before now. My friends, they said I should, but... " Who would really want to come here? Either way, as they moved, like the last time, the walls grew less decrepit. The torches were brighter, stronger, and lit faster than the first. The symbols were more easily seen here, more of the dogs, huge and muscular, littering the walls, and though the language was lost, there was more than one image of people on their knees, visibly weeping.
"Books, " Mont Blonc clarified. "The entire room was filled with books, and so far as I could tell, they were all filled with names. The pages were old and yellowed - and none of the names were ones that I knew."
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 6:29 am
"You don't have white hair and dark eyes. How can you be sure it was you?" Scholomance eyed Mont Blonc, for once unsure if he should be skeptical. 'Magic', the blanket term, threw a wrench into many gears of logic and modality that the page was used to. Perhaps on Saturn, all ghosts manifest with white hair and dark eyes. A thousand explanations might hold true for what the other page saw and Scholomance lacked the wayward imagination to conceive of them.
"'How long do you have'... That doesn't sound ominous at all," Scholomance commented dryly. Hands rested on his hips while he glanced through a few of the hallways, spotting nothing that matched Mont Blonc's description. "He can't mean 'how long do you have to live', else he'd be the dumbest ghost I know. Who is ever aware of when they're going to die?" But nothing else fit such an oddly specific question, unless the pair were measuring two-by-fours.
"I'm not sure Saturn is anything but a corpse dump right now. And a shitty one at that - apparently they'd never heard of proper burial, cremation, funeral pyres, even those boats... Well maybe the boats, but an awful lot of them would've had to capsize on that damned lake for there to be so many bones down there. The worst part of it was that all the bones looked human. Not that I'm an expert, but I've seen a fair share of bones in my line of work from a collector's standpoint-..." Scholomance paused, then loosed an exasperated sigh. "I don't mean to give you the impression that I'm a mortician or a serial killer from an old novel. I'm a pawn shop owner, and I've seen some strange stuff in my day, and it becomes pertinent to keeping my business and staying on the police's good side to report things like pieces of people. And that includes being able to identify bones." The explanation still sounded every bit as morbid.
"But to answer your question, I don't expect to go back. There's nothing there - it's just a lake and a swamp, and I'm no groundskeeper. Besides, it feels like it's constantly watching me. Judging me." Instinct told him to glance to the right, as if the wonder might lie in that direction, but he didn't truly know. The oppression felt ubiquitous. "At least the mountain has something to it - this... Whatever this is. It's not a cairn, obviously, but it might be a tomb... Have you gone beneath it? Sometimes tombs were built over the body of the person they're honoring but... I'm grasping at straws here. Nothing on these walls seems to indicate one person in particular. Just a bunch of dogs and crybabies."
And books added another element of the bizarre. Why keep tome upon tome of names? Certainly this wasn't where Saturn kept its census data, was it? "I expect it would take a hundred years to comb through every name in there, too. And that's not counting cross-referencing it to anything. Not that you'd have much like pretending like you might find people on Earth with the same name. What the hell are we supposed to do with these wonders? So far as I can tell, they're useless."
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 7:10 am
Mont Blonc really didn't blame him for being skeptical, to be honest; he was even a little skeptical. "Have you ever gotten that feeling, " he started, running his fingers along one of the many dogs outlined on the walls. Its fangs were too long for its mouth, in this depiction. "In a crowd. Someone catches your eye, and you might not think anything of it at the time. Then, later, you find yourself thinking of them - and you feel as though you know them, but you can't be sure where from. Familiar, but not." He glanced back at Scholomance, his yellow eyes glinting in the torches' light. "It's a bit like that. I can't be sure of anything, but... it's the one thing I've felt here, I mean, besides uncomfortable and afraid. I'd like to think it means something." He cracked a smile and shrugged his shoulders in that helpless way. "I know how that must sound, though."
He was laughing again, pressing a hand to his mouth his time to try and muffle the sound; old habits and all. "Right?" If only he could make sense of it; he did and didn't want to. "I almost thought it might be ... " Mont Blonc gesticulated generally into the air, "Perhaps it was a battle field or something. Let's pretend it was. 'How long do you have' until supplies come, or until the enemy comes, or... I mean, it would explain all the bodies outside, right?" He wrinkled his nose in mild distaste. "But I didn't see any weapons. Unless they all fought with magic, and then I feel like... I don't know. It just doesn't add up, right?"
Anything but a corpse dump. Something irrationally defensive welled up in him, and he still didn't understand. He had no reason to be so protective of Saturn, just as Mont Blonc had given him no reason to be protective of the mountain. It seemed to be perfectly fine doing... whatever it did on its own, didn't it?
The more Scholomance talked, the more Mont Blonc's interest was piqued. "A serial killer would never admit to being a serial killer, " he pointed out with a small smile that almost bordered on playful - almost. "No, but, really - that sounds interesting. You must see some wonderful things come through your shop, " and once he was started, sometimes, it was harder to stop. "Have you got much in the way of rare books? First editions and the like? I know some pawn shops specialize more in specialty type items or - have you? I had to leave most of my collection back at home, and the book store is charging astronomical prices nowadays - uh, " he turned a bit red and cleared his throat, averting his eyes back to the murals. "Sorry. That was a bit - sorry." He'd gotten a bit ahead of himself there. Time and place.
He nodded along to what Scholomance was saying, again, every bit understanding. Well, less the watching part, but, "I hadn't intended to come back either - I'm a bit glad you asked me, though." Not because he'd gotten anything from his wonder for this, just - again. Talking to him had been nice. "If you ever did want to - I'd be happy to return the favor." He didn't expect anything would come of the offer. But he still wanted to offer it.
"No, I haven't gone underneath yet, " Mont Blonc admitted, "Just the one room, really." In spite of himself, he cracked a grin at the 'dogs and crybabies'. Everything Scholomance was saying was right, of course. There were too many names, too many loose ends, too many questions and no sign of answers. "I don't know. I don't know what we - "
A flash of shadow caught his eye a little ways down the hall. The page's heart caught in his throat and he stared for a moment, stared at the space where he knew Scholomance would have seen nothing. Slowly, he began to walk down the hall to meet it, hesitantly, mumbling to himself something along the lines of, "Ceci est probablement une idée terrible... I saw something, " and he said that part louder, looking back at Scholomance with a half a forced smile. "You, uh - don't have to follow if you don't want to." Of course Mont Blonc wanted him to, but he'd understand if the other page wanted to hang back and sit this one out. It wasn't like Mont Blonc was going to die and leave him stranded here or anything - probably.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 8:22 am
Scholomance hesitated before responding to Mont Blonc, as if weighing the cost of his words. They drew out of him slowly, the same way a persnickety man might part with well-earned money. "Sometimes. I don't... Think it happens very often. Recognizing someone as familiar, I mean. When it does happen..." Body language, he found, reminded him most of Sidney. Sometimes he caught a passing soul that reminded him so keenly of her that he thought he might've run across her in a different part of town. And even so far as those uncanny souls went, occasionally he did find those people that he so often wrote off as past lovers or distant classmates. He never stopped to ask what they meant to him.
Finally he waved the thought away. "I'm just rambling. I know what you meant, but it's still quite the leap considering you're not dead yet and you don't have any proof that this man is or was you." He imagined that, given magic, there might be proof of him existing, dying, and living again - or some ghostly version of his future self.
"Wouldn't you want to say how long do we have, though? If the gathering here was a battlefield, I don't expect soldiers of the same platoon would ask that of each other. Maybe if reinforcements were inquiring of the soldiers already there..." Scholomance ran a spindly finger along his jaw in thought. "I wouldn't say either one makes a lot of sense grammatically. How long do you have until your next shot, maybe, given how muskets were manufactured before. But there's no way to tell how long ago this was, or if any particular battle occurred before guns became a hot item in wars. I'm not sure. I think you might have to ask your ghostly friend what he meant." Assuming Mont Blonc could even find him again.
"I think it'll take more than speculating at the walls to determine what this place was meant for, or what happened here." Luckily it had a story to it. While he supposed his own wonder had a story for how bones wound up in the bottom of the lake, it held no convenient record library to explain their presence there. Unless he was supposed to hunt across other Saturn wonders for answers, he expected that nothing could be gleaned of such a place. It felt like a waste of time to investigate.
"In any case, speaking of books, I do actually have a cabinet of first editions. Signed, most of them. A few aren't. I like collecting stories, and sometimes that means literal ones. I could always hand off my card and you can check them out at your leisure. I don't usually open the case for anyone, but I'd make an exception for you. No need to apologize, either - I was a businessman long before I was a page. I'd drop this s**t in half a heartbeat in favor of a good barter." Scholomance considered dropping his powered visage to hand over a business card, but Mont Blonc took off in a rush for no reason that the older man could discern. Perhaps he saw something while Scholomance's back was turned? He didn't wait around for the boy to return with a synopsis.
Instead he trotted after Mont Blonc looking marginally put out by the unprecedented need to expend calories. "Yes, that sounds like an excellent option. Wait around alone in some unnerving shithole like this and expect you to return with an answer." What if whatever Mont Blonc sighted turned out to be the undead risen to fight back? He supposed stranger things occurred in walls like these.
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Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 9:15 am
"Please don't say you were rambling, " Mont Blonc implored in his soft way, carefully reaching out at though he meant to touch Scholomance's forearm - he backed away at the last second, retreating to a respectable distance again. No, not yet. They were friendly enough and they were brothers of Saturn, yes, but it was too soon for something like that. "I'd like to hear the rest of your thought."
Though he had to laugh, again, because, "I suppose you're right. It's not as though I know who he was, or if he ever really was anyone." Wouldn't be the first time magic messed with him. He thought back again to the future that hadn't been, but wisely didn't bother to mention it. Even he still barely understood it.
At the prolonged breakdown of language and logic, Mont Blonc canted his head lightly to a side, and in spite of himself, couldn't help but smile. "Is it the pawn shop that gives you such an eye for analytical detail? - it's really very impressive, " and he turned a bit red, not because he was flustered or anything, but a bit embarrassed. It felt a bit like stating the obvious. "I've never been much good at that type of thing, myself." He wasn't stupid, no. But he wasn't exactly brilliant either, and he didn't think there was anything wrong with admitting it. "So thank you. Your insight... it's helpful. Really."
He wasn't saying it just to say it.
Support others from the sidelines, wasn't that what Glitnir had told him?
The page's eyes glinted excitedly at the sheer prospect of so many books, signed, first edition books that he could go and take a look at. "Really?" and the look on his face was almost like a kid being offered the key to a candy store, unabashed and vibrant. "Oh, I'd love that."
But the shadow marked the end of that talk, for now. He was quietly relieved to have Scholomance following him, and made sure to whisper a hasty "sorry, but thank you" or something along those lines - the words mattered less than the sentiment. The target itself wasn't far, a room that branched off the main hall, and it was seemingly considerably newer than the rest - although it was still old, simply due to the fact that everything here was old by now, even the new.
He didn't know what he'd expected. But it wasn't this.
"Oh."
There before him in the slowly flickering light was a room full of art. Some big and grand. Some tiny and sketchy. Some in charcoal. Some in paints. Some half finished and discarded all together. Mostly, they were done in dull, cool colors, although flashes and red stood out here and there. Grays and blacks, like the mountain, were most prominent. Discarded, used paint brushes lay scattered seemingly at random.
There, standing among the pictures with his back to Mont Blonc, was the man with the white hair - looking at him now, he could see the hair was long enough to be tied back. He was decked in purples, blacks, and whites... so far as he could see from behind, anyway.
'Mont Blonc.'
A faceless voice called, and the page jumped, because it was a little too close to his ear - and the boy with the white hair turned, staring through him so much like the first time. 'They're here.'
With a slight nod, the boy - the page - walked past Mont Blonc. He was gone before he reached the door, transparent and then vanished.
"... oh, " Mont Blonc repeated again, about five shades paler. "Well. Okay then."
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2015 2:09 am
A naked smile bloomed on Scholomance's face at the sight of art - and it wasn't simply art, either, but a collection of cultural pieces from a realm that no one ever imagined previously. Charcoal and oils, largely neutrals, spanned the canvases unabashedly. They did not look treasured, for some of the pieces sat on the ground or leaned against the walls of the room. The brushes received similar treatment, which urged an inward cringe from the page. And the art itself held legitimate aesthetic, as if the painter committed to formal study just as he did.
Scholomance felt no reverence for the room, so he crossed the threshold to inspect the pieces himself. Mont Blonc commented when he saw the area but Scholomance thought little of it - 'oh' wasn't much of a response to an area like this.
"Do you know anything about these?" Scholomance asked as he craned his neck to look at the man. "I mean, I know you don't know anything about the mountain but if you even knew some general history of Saturn and whoever lived here- ... What? If you looked any more pale, I'd say you were dead. Come on, it's not like there's nudity in any of these..." Looking back to the paintings, he frowned slightly. They looked mostly abstract, and without cultural context, he lacked the ability to analyze them. All he could manage was to look over the paintings with the mountain in mind and scrutinize from there.
Finally he rose, dusted himself off, and turned toward the other page who looked frozen to the cold floor. "What's with you? By the way, can I take some of these home? I'd like to look them over and see what I can learn. Or at least photograph them... I had my phone on me somewhere..." Hands patted pockets absently to no avail. The disappearance of personal items when powering up became exceedingly irksome.
"Seriously, though. If you let me take one home, I'll make you a drink. Or two, or six. You look like you need at least three solid shots in you. And there's nothing wrong with a buzz, either."
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Posted: Thu Aug 27, 2015 2:27 am
Any other time, Mont Blonc would've been delighted by the smile on the other page's face, happy that his wonder could have brought some degree of happiness to someone.
Any other time.
"I - "
His voice shook a bit. It wasn't any fault of Scholomance's, of course - it wasn't his fault he couldn't see it, the specter of himself. That much the page knew now. That boy was him, and this time, he could be sure - no one else could see it.
Just like no one else could see the lieutenant he'd murdered in the future that wasn't, always laughing and calling at him and jeering with hollow dead eyes. It wasn't the same thing, no; this was clearly the product of his wonder, whereas that had been the result of madness. And he wasn't mad here. He had friends and Colin and Nadia and it wasn't the same at all it. It just struck a nerve raw, one that'd been soothed over by Colin when he'd told him he wasn't alone, that others had had the same visions he had, when he'd looked at him and told him he wasn't crazy.
Mont Blonc dragged a hand lightly over his face, suddenly exhausted. "Take one. Take three. I don't care how many. They mean nothing to me." It was unlike him to say something like that, and a pull of something inside of him said differently. He ignored it.
Generally speaking, Lorne's drink of choice, if any, was red wine. After that though, "Maybe one - yes - please, " with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Just this once, the page was willing to make an exception.
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Posted: Fri Aug 28, 2015 11:59 pm
Scholomance quirked a brow at the boy but did not question his own fortune. One of the smaller paintings was collected under arm, dusted off carefully and frowned at for the lack of preservation techniques at his disposal. It looked no larger than a standard sheet of paper, yet had seen lifetimes of neglect. He wondered how paint still remained splotched across the surface, however worn it was.
Maybe one, he says. That's like eating just one chip, or taking one gulp of water. 'Maybe one' my a**.
"Sure." The page approached his comrade and crossed the very center of the round room, unaware of the apparition present in that very spot not moments previously. He cast a last glance toward the frayed, decayed remnants of what must've been an artist's studio (though he considered it more akin to a dungeon) before giving his full attention to Mont Blonc. "I think we could both stand to get out of this musty alcove of a wonder. It's enough doom and gloom for one day," he commented toward the ceiling, where he spotted the ages of decay weathering out and forming stalactites.
"And before you ask - yes, I'm terribly crushed that we aren't going to visit my equally creepy, useless wonder. Going to cry at any minute. Now let's drown our sorrows in alcohol before this eerie dump starts growing cobwebs on us." The page offered his hand for contact purposes.
"We'll go to my place. I just stocked up, wouldn't you know."
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Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2015 12:38 am
Mont Blonc was, again, refreshed and relieved that Scholomance was so very much on the same page as he was. Yes, he'd found solace in Scholomance's company. Yes, his perspective had changed, this time around - if only slightly, it was enough, enough to tell him this was no true ghost but a true and proper shadow of himself. Yes, unlike last time, he knew that he would likely return, would have to face the specter down and find out what it was trying to tell him.
It didn't mean he wanted to - and tonight - tonight, he was beyond exhausted, and even further through with illusions, fears, and self-doubt.
"Please, " he offered, smiling an exhausted, but gratefully bemused smile at his new friend (because in his mind, Scholomance had already long since passed the barrier of friendship). "Lucky us, then, " and without hesitation, took a hold of his hand and took them back, away from the bleak halls of Mont Blonc and back home to the damp, dark alleyways of Destiny City. Where they belonged.
Strickenized New thread time whoo~ biggrin
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