The Way She'd Paint the World... (Dranquay)

[Chaelnomyl]

TS: 32nd Day of Summer, 509 AV.

The guards had warned her to stay away from a certain area and that violence was apart of their daily lives... Pah. "The Dark Delight". Well, perhaps it would be good to avoid that... and the water. She'd seen a shark coming over via the Ferry and couldn't imagine just how lovely that would have been to encounter. A shame, really, for the beauty of the city could most likely be observed best from a watery view. It was no wonder, at least, that the Akvatari fluttered about with her head ever skyward, taking in the massive domes of the city itself and looking ever towards the actual center of the city. Mental notes here and there - she was just attempting to get a feel for the actual culture behind Ravok. Well, sort of. Chaelnomyl liked to learn, liked to understand people - despite the fact that knowledge had this exponential effect of being horribly and utterly depressing the more of it one had.

The canals had piqued her interest and the way the city seemed to float above the water made her haphazardly curious enough to run dangerously close to the edge where the water began and the more permanent structures ended. She wasn't too far off from the Ferry and the entrance to the Docks, and yet the overwhelming uniqueness of the city was already beginning to take the would be artist's attention.

Out in the distance, Chaelnomyl could see the dominating structure of Ravok's history - the Temple of the Black Sun. Not that she knew what it was called, or anything like that... but it was still intriguing.. much like she probably was to the people around her. All in all, Ravok's way of standing on stilts in the water kind of reminded her of Abura, where flight was necessary to get around with any haste and everything was suspended in the air in some form. Kind of made her a little reminiscent of home, kind of made her miss home - not that she'd ever admit that. It was just kind of irritating when the closest thing to a fellow Akvatari was a creature that had less intelligence than any of the other lesser races she'd encountered in her journeys outside of the isle of Akvatar. In fact, for some reason so many people seemed interested in Chaelnomyl's appearance that it was sort of creeping her out. Deciding it best to pull herself off to the side for better and clearer observation of the cityfolk, Chaelnomyl found a spot on a bridge where her back was not to the crowd but more towards the wall so she could watch both those coming over the bridge and the area below.

Tail curled out slightly over the edge and flippers hanging through the railing, Chaelnomyl fished around in her satchel for her old paintbrush and flipped it through her fingers, reclining against the support structure and observing as best she could. It kind of made her sad, really, to see so many humans. A shame that the children of the sea and sky were a rarity to the point that in her years away from home, the Akvatari hadn't even seen another one in a relatively long time. It'd been over twenty years since she'd seen her brother, and not much less since she'd seen her own mother. Still, painting the world was her drive and though sometimes the solitude seemed to get to her... Chaelnomyl was happy enough to hum softly to herself in the same sad song she grew up listening to and twirl the paintbrush through her fingers lightly, watching the waters with interest below.

[Dranquay]

There was something distinctly uneasy and filthy about Ravok that made Dranquay wish he’d never thought it was a good idea to come here. But someone had suggested he try here before he tried the scholarly city he was familiar with and so he had spent an ineffectual month asking in pokey taverns where he got dirty looks and searching for any institute of learning that was not God-obsessed for a hint as to who might know anything about ancient history.

He was beginning to think such an individual or group did not exist in the city at all.

Floating through the streets he was also getting unsettled by the looks that in some respects could be only describe as hungry, malicious or vindictive, he’d even had to open a Void to scare off a human who thought he’d hand over his money! Never in his life had Dranquay felt so utterly despondent with humanity. Certainly the history of the Velterrian had made him feel sad, but this place with its ominous, looking architecture to a being that by all reports was dark and twisted made him wonder what it was that made such humans…well, human. Certainly he was now convinced that using human to describe all of humanity was like using the word music to describe all of music… there was far too much diversity. The problem was where music was a sign of the best parts of the soul, humanity…well, the bit he had to make exceptions for seemed to him to be the worst, the most selfish and the most vindictive.

Was this then what happened when people did have identity? Or did humans simply seek in blindness with needy hands to accept an identity just because it was there without regard for the consequence? Dranquay didn’t know…

Floating back towards the docks and thinking he would book himself a ferry off this bizarrely macabre experiment into the human soul Dranquay was consequently shocked to see light glitter off what seemed to be wings. Not only wings but the type of translucent wings that identified his own people. Pausing in the middle of the street he received several dirty looks for buzzing in the middle of a through-fare but paid them no heed, spending several seconds studying the source of the light reflection in more detail before collecting up his satchel in one hand against to support it and floating over to the bridge before depositing himself down ungainly next to his fellow Akvatari. Make this his sister.

“Chael?” He asked, no doubt startling her, in a low and slightly disbelieving voice. “What are you doing here?” Emphasis very definitely on here, this bizarrely sickening lesson in the outside world that Dranquay wished he had never even heard of let alone had the stupidity to actually visit. With one hand on the railing of the bridge to support himself the Akvatari looked down with wide green eyes at his sister, something in them approaching a mix of surprise, shock and slight terror at exactly where she was. She, innocent, carefree, dreamy Chael in the midst of a city where beings that were not citizens could get turned into forced servants and possessions if they were not careful or strong enough to shoo them off.

He was, Voiding had its advantages even if he wasn’t liable to use it to absorb anyone, the idea of that horrified him. But he was pragmatic enough to know that the average human didn’t know that and didn’t stick around to find out what the strange-winged-creature might do if provoked. But Chael? No…not sweet Chael.

[Chaelnomyl]

Of all things that Chaelnomyl had expected to see inside the city of Ravok, this intriguing place of would be darkness (not that she was wholly aware of “The Black Sun”, and “Rhysol”, and the like), least of those was another Akvatari. The shorter of the two, the younger female was not exactly expecting to be approached, but her eyes did keep wandering back to the walkway in case any of the surly humans got the idea that it would be nice to get too close to her. She had seen the way they looked, the way they acted. She wasn’t exactly aware of the slavery that ran abundant, but the guards had warned her that they might try and take advantage of her appearance… and so Chaelnomyl’s nerves were slightly more on edge than they would have been in the peace of Abura, but that didn’t completely change who she was. Thus, Dranquay was fully unnoticed as he approached her, paintbrush looping through her fingers over and over, twirling around the hand and occasionally softly pretending to paint the lines of the buildings and the Ravosalas so that they might become committed to memory. Her expression hadn’t changed at all since she’d taken a seat there; no happiness, not even a smile had cracked her face but the oddity of creation was enjoying herself well enough. Her thoughts had begun to overwhelm her and lose her within herself as Dranquay approached, and Chaelnomyl did not even respond to the presence, the shadow, or the closeness until he spoke.

At the sound of a voice that, while familiar, was particularly lost in the history of her mind, Chaelnomyl jumped, fumbling the paintbrush through her fingers as it slid from her grasp and landed in her fur. She quickly picked it up and brandished it as if it were a sword at Dranquay, despite the notion that an old paintbrush would do much to fend off assailants who somehow knew a piece of her name was not the least intimidating. Her eyes met his as she clenched the brush, fluffy tip pointed at him with a thin expression across her face, until recognition struck her and the reflection of Dranquay’s shock, surprise and terror registered somewhere in the woman’s mind.

What was she doing here… Was the question. The thinned expression broke into a half smile – despite Chaelnomyl’s likely enjoyment at being confronted by a familiar face, her expressiveness was lost somewhat in her melancholy demeanor and continually distant state. Understanding quickly followed the amusement that had struck his sister’s face. He thought her completely incompetent and set to sing, hum and paint. Not a harmful bone in her body. Well, that was probably true. Chaelnomyl was rarely provoked into any sort of emotion that could yield damage, and most often just caused inflections in her voice that were not the norm. Like curtness or mild irritation. Not often was there anger or elation, as the Akvatari rarely ventured into those states and even more rarely expressed them.

Eventually the response came, though. ”Dranquay..?” Chaelnomyl sized him up, lifting herself off the ground she had been resting on and tucking the paintbrush back into her own satchel, careful not to wrinkle the pages of her notebook or uncork the vial of ink. ”I wanted to see the city…” She eventually addressed the question, eyes half wandering back to the waterway below the bridge they were standing on. ”It really is quite ingenious, you must admit. I’d heard the work of this city’s architecture was something to marvel at. I came to see, so I could paint it later. I’ve been thinking of touring the entity of our realm, seeing the sites, painting the cities. More than just their appearances – their cultures, too… Why do you speak with such concern?”

A half hearted hug met Dranquay – not because Chaelnomyl was not happy to see him, but because that was just her way. Her brother surely remembered that. Still, her gaze was distant even then, not wholly focused on him, people watching. Water watching. Taking it all in, as always. ”It is… good to see you again…” She admitted softly. It had, after all, been about twenty years.

Thoughts of their childhood slowly filtered back to her but did not linger – the more prevalent image that Chaelnomyl tended to recall was singing alongside her mother or humming to herself and it was all she could do to prevent it even now. That same half smile remained on her lips as her focus shifted again and scanned the city out behind Dranquay, eyes taking in every line and detail – the eye of the artist was not lost within that Akvatari, despite how it seemed to have left her brother entirely. He was well defined and seemed to have forgotten his artistic heritage. Or something. Chaelnomyl never could quite picture him with a paintbrush or anything in his hand – that was her realm. Song was her mother’s. Perhaps Dranquay could have become a sculptor, if he’d put his mind to it. Chaelnomyl sighed at nothing at all – at least, nothing that was apparent – and momentarily met her brother’s concerned and equally horrified look with that same smile before with her own before turning it back off to the other side again, ever searching and always analyzing, never focused and never particularly elated. Just slightly sad and perhaps a bit content, willfully unaware of the danger of the city she was currently in.

[Dranquay]

Despite his concern Dranquay could not help but inwardly as the paint brush was brandished as a sword. Someone somewhere had said that the pen was mightier than the sword…he or she surely had never included the idea of a paintbrush in such a metaphor… it took Chael to do that.

Her responses? Predictably they were not emotional or overjoyed, there was an analytical, investigative Akvatari curiosity to her explanation to wanting to see the city; how the thing floated on water…but no emotion. This was of course important in regarding Akvatari for Dranquay shared it to and he could not help but nod softly in recognition of the ingenuity of the architecture, where as their own on the cliffs and under the sea in the caves was somewhat…tame by comparison.

But then these mainlanders have had far more time to perfect what they do, we? We are lost.

Explanations as to the nature of his concern were lost in the shared acknowledgement of kinship as the two exchanged a gentle hug. It was not a thing of depth or a mark of the time they had spent apart; it was an acknowledgement of their shared loss and melancholy. For one thing Chael had at least been able to understand that many Akvatari could not was Dranquay’s sense of loss and lack of purpose in life. It was because of this he had crafted the purpose of discovering his people’s purpose, a circular route that had served him well enough and led him down the past of the Djed.

Not that Chael knew this of course.

Instead the younger Akvatari stared past him. Mainlanders would regard this as insulting, Dranquay knew better.

“I came here to find a mainlander keeper of histories Chael…” The elder Akvatari mused after a moment’s thought and regard of his sister. “Instead I learn that the mainlanders here worship darkness and enslave anything that is not like them. One of them already tried to make me give him money because he thought me helpless.”

There was a vague sense of distaste and sickness about Dranquay’s voice about what he spoke of, since in truth the very place nauseated him when he thought of the minds and souls that occupied it. Despite the time they had spent apart Chael would be easily able to sense her brother’s unease and his dislike of where they now were.

[Chaelnomyl]

The fundamental difference between Chaelnomyl and her brother was that he was entirely more interested in philosophy and not so much in beauty, art, and the like. A commonality they tended to share, however, was the appreciation and lust for history. His knowledge of his sister was, as circumstances forced, sadly lacking. Abura itself had quite the interesting composition but it lacked a unified picture as this Ravok had elegantly displayed. Perhaps it was not so much that the mainlanders had more time to perfect so much as they had a more unified and driven mindset. The Akvatari were very much individualists and did not have problems of social stigmas of conformity and the like. The most common trait shared between Akvatari was that of Chael’s namesake – melancholy states of isolation and loneliness.

For a time, her eyes continually wandered back to his own, finding a foreign wisdom there, something that she would not and could not have grasped at the tender age of twelve, the age when Dranquay had left them in Abura and departed for the rest of the world. For Zeltiva. It had been twenty long years and she hadn’t heard tail nor wing of him on the whisper of the wind, and yet here he was… as foreign and familiar to her as could have been expected. He was the same older brother when it came down to his mannerisms, his appearance, his addressing of her – Chael. Not many people had called her Chael in a very long time. It almost managed to draw a smile on her lips, though little more than a raise of her eyes as they locked back on to him acknowledged the shortened form of her name.

Mainlanders that worshiped darkness and enslaved things that are not like them. Well, fear of the unknown was a common fear to have amongst … anyone. Anyone who was not knowledgeable enough to know the true danger that arose from the unknown – which was in fact very little. It wasn’t lack of knowledge that ended life, it was the use of knowledge on the other end of the unknown that brought about the stilling of the heart. When that distinction was made, there was actually very little to fear.

At the mention that something had attempted to rob her brother though, the female Akvatari looked down towards the ground for a second. Perhaps she had been fortuitous. The only odd creature she had ran into of note in the city was this peculiar creature from the heavens the other night near the canals. No human had really bothered her, though their glances were a little unnerving. They would have been a lot more unnerving if the Akvatari was not so aloof in response.

The undertone of dislike registered in the back of Chaelnomyl’s mind and she slowly, methodically shrugged as an arm wound about him, palm touching his shoulder for a moment’s time before it dropped back to her side. ”Well, then one would safely assume you had no desire to find a history keeper here.” – It was not a question; it was a statement in which none would find fault. ”I must admit that I am a little disheartened. It is not entirely what I had expected. Did you investigate the histories while you were away from us? Mother had told me numerous times in the three years that followed that you were to be found in Zeltiva. She told me you were to study under a scholar of the bipedal world, though I hope it was not for something such as art. You could have learned that with me at home.” Chael gazed off into the distance, remembering the latter part of their twenty some odd year separation with a slow, meticulous approach. ”I… I wandered that way a bit when I initially left her, but I saw nothing of you and so I made my way aimlessly around, studying the way things looked and...” She paused. ”How to manipulate appearances, I suppose you could say.”

Indeed, it had been a lot of inward study to learn the art of morphing and if Chael had anything to say on the subject, she was quite good. Perhaps not as good as her brother might have been at analyzing histories and spoken words, or perhaps skepticism – Dranquay had always come off skeptical and philosophical to her – but still able to manipulate quite a deal about herself nonetheless. It was a useful skill to have in retrospect. She just kind of needed to learn how to become bipedal and use those limbs that would be so awkward to her.

If they were both in agreement that things were not well in Ravok then, perhaps in time she would suggest they leave, head towards Zeltiva again. It would be nice to be in a place that her brother knew, and since they shared a thirst for the answer to where they came from… it seemed like a plausible adventure. Dranquay was more interested in the material reality of it all while Chael was more interested in the actual creation and the definition of their purpose. Why had they been created, and not how.

Still, they had a lot of catching up to do. It had, after all, been twenty years.