The fortieth day of winter, 514 AV
He arrived at the Vestibule's doors about a half bell earlier than he had thought he might. Over his time on the island, he had been back and fourth between the citadel and the cavern enough times to get very familiar with the unmarked path that connected to the two locations. His strength too had increased slowly over the course of his time spent training, making the journey less and less of a hassle, though there was only so much he could do to cut down on the length of time it took to go from one place to the next. He had moved at a comfortable pace, moving with purpose but not so much that he broke into a sweat, making the walk almost pleasant. His mind, however, was filled with thoughts that occupied the entirety of his time up until he arrived at the massive portal. He stopped before the doors, turning to look back at the way he'd come. It had felt like a very short walk, though the strain in his legs and elevated breathing told him otherwise. He found it strange that time could pass quickly or slowly, yet it could not be stopped. His lips turned down into a pensive frown as he considered it further.
If time could be stopped, the practical applications for it were near endless; unless they weren't. His eyes wandered over the space before him, seeing but not truly absorbing anything that met his eyes. If time stopped, did he stop as well? And if that were the case, even if time could be stopped, how would it be started again? Time was the key component to life. As time moved forward, so too did life. Nothing could be accomplished outside of time, as anything outside of time simply... wasn't. He blinked. Were things outside of time nothing, or were they something more. Keene hadn't the foggiest idea what sort of something more something existing out of time might be. The gods, perhaps? He felt a subconscious shrug as he approached the matter of the divine. There were some things he supposed just weren't meant to be understood. The nature of time was something he believed to be graspable, but the nature of timelessness was, perhaps, a bit out of his abilities to understand. Turning to the doors, Keene stepped through, his boots tapping against the chilled stone and bouncing off of the massive sculptures that lined the walls.
He had been called upon to escort Master Rayage through the Testing Grounds, a request for him specifically. Atziri had seemed to think it an interesting thing, but she had warned him to remain alert. The nuit were their charges along with the island itself, but neither were to be trusted. It was something Keene had not given much thought to until his master had reminded him. The island had been, as strange as it seemed, a relative haven for magic; a place where secrecy was not required - but perhaps encouraged. He had failed to grasp that concept, and still struggled with it as he made his way down the hall towards the TAR. He was well aware that magic made wizards dangerous, but those he had interacted with, however duplicitous, had proven to be interesting sources of information. To remain guarded was to deny the chances of learning, and while Keene wasn't particularly intent on divulging the darkest secrets of his magical past, there was quite a bit he was willing to part with should it mean a greater growth of knowledge. There was no point in hoarding knowledge when it could be used to gain more, though he supposed there was merit in caution. Information was easily falsified, and it was certainly worse to know something wrong than it was to know nothing at all.
Master Rayage had suggested in her missive that they meet at the decomissioned TAR, something Keene had learned of after his interaction with the animator Thomas Cosa. Keene still had difficulty imagining the silent golem as a sorting tool of sorts. It was so still and lifeless, it was hard to picture it as anything else. Keene stopped near the metal beast, the resulting stillness of the vestibule broken only by the occasional squeak of a follower golem on its way out of or into the Synchrography. As Master Rayage had not yet arrived, Keene contented himself to stare up at the statues around him, never haven taken much time to truly study them beyond their basic features and the fact that they were present. They were interesting, well sculpted, but none of them were familiar aside from them appearing relatively human. He was not well versed in the races of Mizahar, but he was quite familiar with the general appearance of humans. He had yet to travel to the mudpools as well, and wasn't certain what they might run into. As his eyes scanned the face of a stern looking woman holding a twisted staff, Keene wondered what Master Rayage wanted from the pools at all. Mud, he supposed.
.
He arrived at the Vestibule's doors about a half bell earlier than he had thought he might. Over his time on the island, he had been back and fourth between the citadel and the cavern enough times to get very familiar with the unmarked path that connected to the two locations. His strength too had increased slowly over the course of his time spent training, making the journey less and less of a hassle, though there was only so much he could do to cut down on the length of time it took to go from one place to the next. He had moved at a comfortable pace, moving with purpose but not so much that he broke into a sweat, making the walk almost pleasant. His mind, however, was filled with thoughts that occupied the entirety of his time up until he arrived at the massive portal. He stopped before the doors, turning to look back at the way he'd come. It had felt like a very short walk, though the strain in his legs and elevated breathing told him otherwise. He found it strange that time could pass quickly or slowly, yet it could not be stopped. His lips turned down into a pensive frown as he considered it further.
If time could be stopped, the practical applications for it were near endless; unless they weren't. His eyes wandered over the space before him, seeing but not truly absorbing anything that met his eyes. If time stopped, did he stop as well? And if that were the case, even if time could be stopped, how would it be started again? Time was the key component to life. As time moved forward, so too did life. Nothing could be accomplished outside of time, as anything outside of time simply... wasn't. He blinked. Were things outside of time nothing, or were they something more. Keene hadn't the foggiest idea what sort of something more something existing out of time might be. The gods, perhaps? He felt a subconscious shrug as he approached the matter of the divine. There were some things he supposed just weren't meant to be understood. The nature of time was something he believed to be graspable, but the nature of timelessness was, perhaps, a bit out of his abilities to understand. Turning to the doors, Keene stepped through, his boots tapping against the chilled stone and bouncing off of the massive sculptures that lined the walls.
He had been called upon to escort Master Rayage through the Testing Grounds, a request for him specifically. Atziri had seemed to think it an interesting thing, but she had warned him to remain alert. The nuit were their charges along with the island itself, but neither were to be trusted. It was something Keene had not given much thought to until his master had reminded him. The island had been, as strange as it seemed, a relative haven for magic; a place where secrecy was not required - but perhaps encouraged. He had failed to grasp that concept, and still struggled with it as he made his way down the hall towards the TAR. He was well aware that magic made wizards dangerous, but those he had interacted with, however duplicitous, had proven to be interesting sources of information. To remain guarded was to deny the chances of learning, and while Keene wasn't particularly intent on divulging the darkest secrets of his magical past, there was quite a bit he was willing to part with should it mean a greater growth of knowledge. There was no point in hoarding knowledge when it could be used to gain more, though he supposed there was merit in caution. Information was easily falsified, and it was certainly worse to know something wrong than it was to know nothing at all.
Master Rayage had suggested in her missive that they meet at the decomissioned TAR, something Keene had learned of after his interaction with the animator Thomas Cosa. Keene still had difficulty imagining the silent golem as a sorting tool of sorts. It was so still and lifeless, it was hard to picture it as anything else. Keene stopped near the metal beast, the resulting stillness of the vestibule broken only by the occasional squeak of a follower golem on its way out of or into the Synchrography. As Master Rayage had not yet arrived, Keene contented himself to stare up at the statues around him, never haven taken much time to truly study them beyond their basic features and the fact that they were present. They were interesting, well sculpted, but none of them were familiar aside from them appearing relatively human. He was not well versed in the races of Mizahar, but he was quite familiar with the general appearance of humans. He had yet to travel to the mudpools as well, and wasn't certain what they might run into. As his eyes scanned the face of a stern looking woman holding a twisted staff, Keene wondered what Master Rayage wanted from the pools at all. Mud, he supposed.
.