Solo [Dawn Tower] - Setting Order

[Arysana]

Speech | Thoughts

It was difficult to plaster on a smile when it was a very well known fact that work was going to like Hai.

“Arysana?” Chimed a voice, sickly sweet, a yawn passing the woman’s thin lips as she gave a gesture to the day’s log book. “How’s your study fairing?” there was almost a sigh to the woman’s words, such a sentence said so often it almost mechanical. “Study,” She played, the word having an old ring to it. “Horrid. I’ve had so much work,” it was hardly a question worth too much thought, but the woman at the desk had her own tasks, likely several dozen times more arduous than Arysana’s own, and she no doubt revelled in any diversion. “Armitican working you to the bone, no doubt,” Oh, and gossip. She was a fine lover of gossip, and had little problem chortling and giggling her break away in one of the common rooms. “Your own work isn’t exactly a walk in the park, either.”

A short survey of the names already scrawled across the page left a glimpse of hope, several familiar names clocked in for class and study alike. Perhaps there was some fun that could be had, after all? The receptionist fell silent, as though her refusal to answer gave it, a soft, cheeky smile taken to her otherwise hard features as she noted Arysana to have correctly written in her details.

From their small talk seasons prior, apparently many misunderstood what was required of them. “Good day, and good luck,” The woman giggled, nodding Arysana off into the heart of the Tower, a dismissive gesture as though she was glad to be rid of the student’s presence, a look of mock heart break thrown to in return, “to you as well.”

With that, she knew that she could delay her day no longer, slipping out of the room with a sigh and a certain compulsion to take as long as humanly possible to make it to the classroom she’d been assigned for that day. From what she herself had heard, there’d been a slight accident during one of Armitican’s lessons, and a student found themselves transmuting quite the whirl wind.

Said student, and Arysana, were to spend however bells it took to tidy the destruction that had been caused. “I still don’t see why I have to do this,” she mumbled, finding the thought of having to clean up after another stomach turning. Why couldn’t he or she do it themselves? Did they really cause such a vast array of damage and chaos that more than one person is required?

[Arysana]

Speech | Thoughts

At least three chimes passed as Arysana stood reluctantly outside the heavy door to the classroom. She could hear movement inside, the shuffling of papers and the kicking of chairs, a dozen sighs and tired breaths.

She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, and only moved from her place when the sound of chatter and footsteps filled the hall.

Already several small groups had gone by, along with the odd straggler or two, but the amount of time she’d spent bitterly standing still in place was quite rapidly reaching ridiculous levels, with the possibility of someone walking by twice and raising an eyebrow increasing with chime.

She probably should have knocked, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do so, instead opening the door with a sigh and a grumble, brushing her fringe from her face and straightening her clothes as she entered the room, attempting to at least give the appearance of rush as she took in the scene before her.

She'd seen better, she'd seen worse.

Books were strewn left, right, and center, the odd table flipped and chair tipped over. It seemed to her that it was much more than a novice mistake that had caused such backlash, perhaps someone well into the ways of competencies, or further still and picking up air reimancy for the first time.Gods, it could have also merely been one experimenting with glyphs, and underestimating how much it aids.

She spared the man a short look, finding neither his face nor form nearly as interesting as the patterning to the mess before her, only a few words leaving her as she answered the question that played silently on his lips. “I’m Sana, Armitican sent me to lend a hand,” her words were clipped seething with irritation, the plastic smile she then threw making point enough that wasn’t pleased with the decision, but not so rude at to make a blatant show of it.

She didn’t get much in return for her courtly attempts, the man’s expression of confusion falling before he rubbed his palms on his trousers and nodded slowly. “Right…” he drawled, voice coarse and low, seemingly as willing as she to drop the matter and chatter, and continue on with what was to be done.

From what she could tell, little mister air reimancer in the corner had begun whatever it as in the centre of the room. Her steps were even and expression hard, hand trailing across a desk as she walked by it, committing the scene to memory before she tampered with it, a curse and cuss spilling from her mouth as she noted a couple of pieces of furniture out of place.

It seemed that her new little acquaintance, if he could be called even that, had indeed done a number on a chair or two out of anger. ‘Gods, and they say I need to take on extra meditation classes?’

She slowed her pace and circled a little off centre of the room, a small smile tugging the corner of her lips as she practically twirled in place, proud of herself for finding, what she considered, to be the general place the man must have stood at when unleashed the gale or gust or whatever it was that had ripped through the room.

Arysana had almost lost herself in thought and imagination when a loud shuffling and a curse came from the back of the room, gaze fliting to the man and raising an eyebrow at the sight. He had somehow perched himself rather precariously upon one of the other chairs, desperately clutching a painting that was on the brink of slipping from his hands. Perhaps the one thing that stood out about the scene more than anything else, was the bewildered look he bore.

His eyebrows were arched in alarm, nose crinkled and lips pressed, a sideways glance from Arysana to the portrait before some strange gesture and a sudden movement, Sana’s stomach dropping and breath hitching as the picture was let to slip before it was caught again.

Relief then doused his expression, passing before Arysana could muster a comment before the picture was set perfectly in place, and her peer brush his clothing and rolled his shoulder. “I thought you said you were here to help,” he grumbled, before motioning to nowhere in particular.

[Arysana]

Speech | Thoughts

"I..." she trailed, pressing her lips as she forced the upward tug of her lip's corners to cease, too bitter to allow herself any amusement or satisfaction from the work or the company.

Her peer moved and continued on before she did, snapping herself into work as she began the painful and pedantic task of setting and realigning the tables and chairs, continuing to create a mental map of the aftermath of the accident.

One of the best ways to learn, she found, was to see and analyse how those before her worked and where they failed, how to pull through when they could not and how to avoid similar fates.

Although the reimancer valued straightforwardness, she was not so much rude, and asking someone who was visibly distressed from unleashing quite the chaotic gust in a classroom? Yes, yes. That was rude.

She couldn't help but clench her fists and roll her shoulders as she imagined the transmutation for air reimancy, almost skipping as she took greater care in the finesse and grace of her moments, once again finding ever fibre of her being drawn to the thrill and beauty of the magic.

She drew on all she could recall, what she saw as she paced by open doors in the tower and respite alike. How her peers were told to hold themselves, the movements and tips that almost every student seemed to know. The position of the hands, the levels of concentration, the push and pulling of air.

Her back felt as though it was on fire, and she made a swift and sudden turn to find her classmate cautiously picking through the wreck, expression quizzical and mildly amused, lips pursed as though he was on the brink of speech, the short shaking of his head dismissing the notion as he set several tables in order, before realigning a few of those that Sana herself had placed.

She bristled but bit back comment, turning on her heel as she lost any ounce of grace she’d gained in her usual romanticising of her magic, a huff of air rolling from her lungs and as she noted a section of windblown papers by the desk, drawing closer as she sought to gather and tidy them. “You…” the man trailed, Sana throwing him a curious look and a short hand gesture to continue, turning his way to ensure that she showed he had at least a slither of attention as she tried to figure a way to organise the paper.

“You’re an air reimancer?” there was a certain finality to his tone, and almost a proud breath at the end, even with the hitching of his tone as he posed the statement as a question. "Nope," was her simple response, and she soon enough turned and gather the pieces of paper and flattened scrolls from behind her, the short look of shock that ripped through the man’s features too much for her to quite handle. She supposed that if he’d expected a negative response, one so quick and casual wouldn’t have been it.

"Earth reimancy is my trade," she mused, snagging the last scrap as she stood, poring her eyes over the contents, a slow nod as she found them to be exerts from a tome that she herself had the pleasure of studying, "I’m still quite novice."

Regret hit her the moment she spoke, hazarding a glance to her peer only to roll her eyes at the look he then bore. ‘You cocky motherpetcher.’

[Arysana]

Speech | Thoughts | NPC

"I'm competent enough in air and water," he began, pressed smirk giving life to his dull features, his entire manner of holding himself lifting and straightening. "Not long now and I'll be able to boast having a good hold of the para-element ice, as well." It would have been difficult for Arysana to miss the way the man began to puff and heighten at his own words, his shoulders no longer low and aloof, gaze no more concentrated on the stonework of the floor, and the look of pride seeping and twisting his once plain features.

A bitter breath left the geomancer, rolling her shoulders as she hummed softly and mediated on her peer's words (Though she felt that he'd have rather she referred to him as senior), weighing up how much she wished to be in his good graces against how irritated he made her.

"Ice," the word was flat as it left her, expression drawn as she feigned focus on more pressing matters, such as which draw to stuff the pile of papers into, with only the slightest though to spare on idle chatter. "Was that was you were trying," she drawled the words the slightest fraction, a sharp look befalling her peer before she gave a nonchalant gesture to the mess still surrounding. "To make when this happened? Or are the workings of air reimancy merely too much for you yet?"

The silence rung out in the chilly, thin air, Arysana continuing her work as though she'd said nothing, turning away from the desk as she advanced upon one of the side counters, where several piles of books had been blown over. Even with the little work that had to be done, the mess that the man had made appeared to be less and less great as the chimes went on. The tables were set in better place, papers no longer littered the floor, and although everything as still largely set out of place, it looked more like a tribe of children had advanced upon it.

That thought alone had her giggle lightly to herself, shortly taking note of what journals went where as she restacked and reordered, mind blissfully abuzz with thought and guilt about the many number of times that her Aunt Lyanne or father had tidied the house only for the geomancer and her sweet twin siblings rip through the cramped place like a hurricane.

"What would you know?" By the time the words cut through the tension, Arysana had almost forgotten her words, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she played it to her advantage.

"Hmmm? Wha-oh, I have friends, and given that air reimancy is the least likely to burn or tear a building down, they are rather liberal in their practice of it. Given their levels, and what I've seen of them in action... I'd dare say this little mess came from quite the amount of res. So you either pooled a lot of res to make ice, or you tried a big stunt you weren’t quite ready for."

She impressed herself with her words, though diligently ensured that the placement of her back and her stance obscured vision of the open student journal that was laid out by her, the page in particular a wealth of student notes about their own experience in air reimancy when res was modelled in different shapes. It almost made her wish to jump disciplines, her final resolve being one wherein she merely had another reason to press onwards with her studies.

“It’s…” his words trailed into nothing, and Arysana glanced his way to see him lost in re-realigning the tables and chairs. ‘Victory is mine is seems.’

[Arysana]

Speech | Thoughts

The next dozen chimes went by in silence, and Arysana supposed that her peer didn't look her way a single time, having spent the entire duration pedantically straightening and organizing the tomes and texts, frequently hovering about the book with its open pages, pouring every ounce of spare attention that she could spare over the scrawled notes and detailed sketches.

It was such a divine art, she thought, so fluid and delicate and beautiful. She felt her hands twitch as the words on the page sprung to life, the descriptions and models popping about before her. She thought of the different ways that res could be held and transmuted, the variance in styles and method when comparing her earth to the written air, how the way in which transmutations were made affected the flow, and what it meant in the shallowest sense to ‘attract’ it.

"Almost done," the two words were enough to snap her to attention, slamming the book shut so quick and sudden that she almost nipped her own nose, sliding it on top of the pile that she assumed it belonged with a light breath and a pressed smile, like a child caught sneaking a second pastry. "Sooner than I thought."

It was strange hearing him speak when she thought he'd never again dare, even more so due to the steady rhythm with which his words flew. Not as choppy or clipped as they were the first time around, nor were they as boastful as the time after. It was a tone much more to her liking, more natural and fitting to his face and form than any other.

"The mess wasn't all too bad in the first place. Or at least not after the tidying had truly begun," She felt compelled to be courteous, to speak with the same casual ring that her peer did, pushing off from the side counter with a light huff and sweeping stare.

There was nothing large left to be done, the other student having managed to place the desks and chairs into rows so neat the geomancer suspected that they'd never been more organised, the desk tops thankfully clear, and the once scattered papers were collected.

The other student had also seemed to have been rather careful in realigning the artwork, as well, the mirrors and mosaic pieces catching the light in every small section that it pooled, flooding the corners with bright and coloured reflected light. Once set back into normal state from that of disarray, it was easier to appreciate the beauty of room, from the constant sound of running water to the harmony that came from the brilliant uses of wood and stone in the craftsmanship.

It was easy to become lost in the Tower, the geomancer always thought. Not in terms of size or expanse, or a layout that befuddled even the most practised, but the way that so many details caught and held the eye. Themed with the light and beauty of Dawn, there were times of day when the mirrors and pieces reflected so perfectly that breath was lost: when the hallways were flecked with light and colour, when proper time was allowed for one to see how the canals and artwork bound together and harmonised the elements, when the very atmosphere of the room and people lifted off stress and struck people with a calm, when peace was found in a constant storm disruption and movement.

[Arysana]

Speech | Thoughts

Arysana rolled her neck and shoulders, gaze flitting about the room as she was caught in a surge of thought and feeling, almost missing the quizzical look her peer sent her. “No use delaying the inevitable,” he murmured, rubbing his mouth as he gaze a foul look about the room, the odd testament to his screw up still very much visible here and there, though she figured that she’d be able to slip out without any retribution as it was, though she wasn’t one to leave a job half finished.

“The bookcases are a bit…” she trailed, frowning as she slowly advanced on them, they themselves some strange combination of stone and wood. “Already like that, I wouldn’t bother,” a sigh and a yawn followed his words, making Arysana herself a little too aware of her own exhaustion, eyes watering as she was caught in the same action. “Yeah…” it was always hard for her to think when sleep was on the verge of taking her, never quite able to tell what was honest thought and what was selfish, though the two at times coincided.

“I’ll tidy them a little bit,” was her final decision, waving off her peer to complete the finer fixes; straightening the odd pile of journals, ensuring that cupboard doors were closed and the like.

Her own work was simple enough, the bookshelves filled with tomes and journals alike, some bound piles of weathered pages and paper, a shelf or two higher above reserved for keeping books on loan from the library, several of those lower tomes written by students themselves, donated or given to the Tower as they left or concluded their business. There were also textbooks of sorts, small piles of copies of the same book, where in Gods Name they’d found someone to do such horrid work she wasn’t all too sure, though she knew for a fact that there wasn’t many with the time or care to do such in their free time.

“Past students?” she mumbled, thinking aloud, unable to help herself from glancing over the text and the legibility of the hand as she shifted and reorganised a thing or two. Student journals were all place to one side, tomes of strict information and reference to the shelf above. The copied out text book like manuscripts were sat opposing the student work books, books on loan from wherever remaining in their high shelf, though with certain additions, the odd slim book or tome found hidden between journals.

It took well over two dozen chimes to finish her leisure work, her final decision and set layout one that took quite the amount of mediation. By the time that she was happy and finished, the sound of the door shutting cut through the quiet air, the student turning to catch sight of her peer’s back as he ducked out of the room, annoyance rising in her before noting that all was well and done, and that he was likely quite simply not in sorts to wait around until her attention could be caught.

She stalled herself for an awkward moment, surveying the room with a slow nod of her head and a smile, following her peer soon after herself.

END