[Flashback] Quiet Contemplation (Mazirion, Open)

[Eridanus]

Day 5, Summer of 509 AV 30 Chimes after the 22nd Bell Stone Memorial Garden Eridanus patrolled a path in the Stone Garden in quiet contemplation, his hands placed behind him the same way a university professor would. The moonlight that touched the Ethaefal illuminated his ethereal features in a way the nearby lights could not. He loved this place especially at night, as when night time approaches, the number of tourists would be reduced by a large amount, and the place would seemingly be transformed. It was like two different places. A noisy and crowded tourist attraction in the day, and a quiet meditative spot at night. He loved the atmosphere, the way the moon illuminated certain steps on the paths contrasted with the earthly lights of the nearby lamps illuminated with magic that prevented the garden from being plunged into crippling darkness. He looked at the dark sky and sighed. Eridanus tended to be a tad more introspective than was healthy. Fortunately, this mood would usually afflict him only when he found himself in his celestial form, combined with peace, quiet and a general lack of people or noisy actions. Like explosions. He remembered the night before when an ambitious young man accidentally set himself on fire when he did something with one of the night-lamps. He did not know what happened nor did he care to find out. After all, magic has its own mysterious ways. What he found annoying, however, was when the alarm was sounded and several knights rushed out only to find a comically hopping figure of flames. After they called another knight who doused the flames with Aqua Reimancy, they shipped him off to another place in the castle, probably to heal the poor guy and then investigate what happened. Needless to say, the knights were not amused. Eridanus, being a witness, gave some statements and was finally left alone. However, the mood was gone, and sighing, he had returned back to his sleeping quarters. Such is the frailty of life.

[Mazirion]

Timestamp: 5th Day of Summer, 509; Night Mazirion stepped into the stone garden, wondering what all the hyperbole was about. It was a garden filled with rocks, and little else. Still, it was a quiet place to light a fire and think for a while. His hammer swinging beside him, glittering in the moonlight, he allowed his hair to swing behind him as he began to patrol the fabled garden. In the pocket of his breeches was his flint and steel, and nothing else. His cloak rippling around his ankles, he strode as silently as he could, passing others who evidently saw the value of this place, empty as it was of any use besides possibly a source of flux, depending on how hard the rocks were. Still, the trees would be useful, what little there were. At least it wasn't Spring - these trees would have limbs worth burning. Sitting down at a respectful distance from the edge of a small cliff, he snapped off a low-hanging branch and attempted to set the leaves on it burning. He didn't live in this city - he simply travelled from town to town, smithing swords where they were needed and horseshoes where they were not. The last town he had been in, Isurians hadn't been very popular. He'd eventually been run out after the local blacksmith had stopped receiving orders, which was a pity; Mazirion was making a small fortune fixing the people's poorly cobbled-together farm tools. The fire at last burning, he stood to pluck more branches and looked around for smaller stones to create a ring. He had seen plenty of used firepits, but he didn't trust the product of another man's labors to keep him warm. A ring of stones formed and a large limb burning, he settled back against the tree and stared into the now-blazing fire, his pulse slowing and his mind wandering as it always did, to thoughts of forging and fire, and more importantly, his past. It was at this point that he noticed a strange-looking character following the path he had come down, as if sleepwalking. The figure looked at him, and he raised his hand in greeting, hoping that would be the end of this surreal meeting.

[Eridanus]

Eridanus was partially woken up from his contemplative state when he smelled smoke, followed by the sight of a large muscular human creating some sort of makeshift bonfire. It was not the suddenness of the encounter, but the idea of fire that riled him up. Or more accurately, the the part of his past that he could not remember. He was not sure what he used to be, but the concepts he experienced so far that excited that small subconscious disturbed him. Fire happened to be one of them. Not another fool playing with fire again? He wondered if this guy was somehow related to the human who performed a self-immolation experiment the day before. Anyhow, it didn't matter. Ah the human greeted me. The Vantha personality that took a backseat when Leth rises to dominance poked the Ethaefal and he rose his hand automatically in response. One has to be civil in mortal society, after all. He gave a slight nod, albeit trying not to seem imperious. The night seemed so beautiful, and the cackles of the tiny fire added to the surreal atmosphere. As an Ethaefal, he could see and appreciate - and he hoped he understood - the beauty in nature and in everything. The beauty in random occurrence. Even the beauty of a well designed plan, for what could the graceful ordering of chaos be if not beauty? He must be addled, for it was generally not normal for the Ethaefal to proceed with what he did next. Perhaps it was the Vantha self, who edged slightly higher up in the seat of consciousness, awoken from its reverie by the concept of the burning element. "The fire does add an enchanting element to the heavens, do they not?" He motioned towards the burning twigs, then to the sky, as he turned again to face the symbol of his beloved patron. The patron that he was ripped away from due to the Great Divide. As he turned, the Ethaefal revealed more of his profile to the human, looking as normal as the next civilian if not for the two non-human horns and the two parallel-slung long swords on his back.

[Mazirion]

Mazirion picked up a burning branch with his left hand and regarded it momentarily. "The heavens are no concern of mine, friend. A fire is something I make myself. It keeps me warm, gives me light and wards me from danger. The heavens are a black abyss, and the divine can have them." He leaned forward and concentrated on the fire, pointedly. It looked like despite his detached air, the Ethaefel would join him yet. When he simply stood there, after a while Mazirion looked up. "Are you staying or going, friend?" he ventured quietly.

[Eridanus]

Eridanus remained where he was, his back partially facing the human and still looking up into the night. Truth be told, the cackling of the fire did add an additional soothing element to the whole scenario, though his Vantha personality wondered if the Knights allowed free flames to exist, especially since the incident yesterday. Oh shush, human. Civility is a societal construct, and mortal society will never appreciate the beauty of chaos. They take for granted the artistic form of existence. He was quite used to talking to himself like that, his mortal and celestial personality trading words and sometimes insults. It was all in good fun, and it was one of the methods the Fallen Children used to deal with their partial immortality. He did shudder a bit though, when he consciously realized what he told his mortal self, for chaos is yet another concept that was deep in the list together with fire. He shook his head, clearing his mind of further thoughts down this particular road, and clasped his hands behind his back. "A practical man. But in moments of peace does one not think about how small actions like this can possibly cause great consequences we do not think about?" The human was practical, Eri would give him that. That generally applied to most of Mizahar's still living inhabitants, for dreaming fools tend to end up as food for the many monsters out there or slaves for the crook-merchants dabbling on that side of the human capital industry. He did not introduce himself, nor did he expect the human too, at this point. It was like a meeting between two minds, stripped of physical shell and civility and societal expectations and all that. Just a meeting between two minds.

OOC: I suppose we can explore 'chaos theory/butterfly effect' and/or 'cause and effect'. Or maybe a mathematical concept that your character feels can help him grasp this concept. Your call.

[Mazirion]

Mazirion stared into the fire, beginning to enjoy the conversation despite himself. This particular Ethaefal wasn't stupid, though he used the word 'practical' like flattery. Turning his attentions to the burning stick in his stronger left hand, he snapped it in half over a boulder and returned it to the fire. Most Ethaefal simply dismissed the world around them, and despite their grace and artistry, they usually ended up with a knife in their back, staring at the heavens they came from without ever seeing anything. Unseen consequences... "Unseen consequences? Like, for example, this fire catching light of a tree and the entire of this thoroughly non-flammable garden burning down? What a strange idea. It seems more likely that the fire will simply burn, and when it is done it will peacefully consume itself and die. Like many things, a simple campfire does not often burn brightly. Even men, gloriously intelligent as they are, will accomplish almost nothing on their own. "but then, is a forest fire one gigantic, brightly-burning destroyer, or thousands of tiny flames working together for a mutual, destructive goal?" Mazirion was surprised despite himself. He'd never given philosophy a shot before - he wondered briefly if his companion knew he was spouting whatever came into his head, then concluded he probably didn't care.

[Eridanus]

Eridanus paused and gave that idea some thought. Whether something is considered as being on its own, or a collection of forms. Well he had not really thought about that in detail before. It was interesting this man pointed that out despite looking like your average ale-drinking brawler. That question could be applied to everything, and that includes himself. And that made things more interesting. For he was a being in itself, his limbs and thoughts are carried out in cohesion like he was one being. Yet, by virtue of his partial immortality he is balanced with two different forms, and two different personalities. And a possibly darker one hidden down there. So could it be that they were actually working in cohesion? In that everything exists as a sum of something smaller, and they all work in cohesion? "I suppose it'll be the latter." "Addressing your first question, I've experienced things that will make you think otherwise. I've seen how shifting an object by a small distance can result in the brutal deaths of quite a few people. Nevermind if they were deserving of it or not." He had regained that memory in the form of a nightmare, and it was what made him think about how everything is connected by a thread. As if fate was a carefully and narrowly designed thread of events, and any small fluctuations in any area will cause the entire plan of sequences to diverge.

[Mazirion]

The strange man having finished with that rather condescending statement, Mazirion considered for a while, not really knowing what to say. "Well, I find that it's not how big the action is, it's how much force was required in the first place. A mouse can move a mountain, but first the mountain must have weak foundations and a bizarre series of events can come about. Wars can happen over the color of a pauper's tablecloth. Seas can flood the land because one person forgot to pray. It's not our place to wonder why; I leave such things to Izurdin and his brethren." He looked up at the Ethaefal. "But then, you'd know all about the gods, wouldn't you?" he probed, neutrally. Primarily, he was a seeker of knowledge. Whether or not knowledge brought with it skill, he would rather know of such things as the divine folk.

[Eridanus]

Izurdin... Could it be...? Eridanus almost hit himself for making that mistake. Of course! The man's disproportionately large arm should have been a clue, as have his stout and muscular frame. The Ethaefal was too used to seeing humans that he naturally assumed any humanoid to be just that - a human. He was glad that he did not bring this out, for there is no greater insult than to get mistaken for another race, especially one with a rich history and one as proud as an Isur. Gods... Of course he'd known. But whatever knowledge and history he had among the divine were torn away as suddenly as he was when the Great Ravage occurred. Even when he was in his celestial form he could barely remember his memories with his beloved patron, as more memories throughout the centuries on this mortal plane began to crowd out his previous memories. In fact, his mortal shell has almost forgotten all memories of frolicking amongst the gods, and he had begun to doubt his true origins, if not for the great reminder that was his transformation. "I'd wish... I've known more..." Eridanus whispered, a subtly melancholic tone creeping into his voice. The question that was voiced by the Isur distracted him from the previous statement, and he did not care to rebut it.

[Mazirion]

Once again, Mazirion didn't know what to say. This Ethaefal was apparently going mad in front of his eyes, and all he had wanted to do was simply make a campfire and sit there for a while. Still, light attracts all sorts of things, bad and good. He left the stick he had found in the fire alone to burn in peace, having kept himself busy by prodding it for while now. Then it hit him - this strange, divine creature really was from a god... what did he wish for? "...What did you wish for?" he almost mumbled it as he realized what the Ethaefal might be saying. "What have you known?" Knowledge was a powerful thing.