Solo Face for a Day

[Aislyn Leavold]

91st of Fall, 515 AV

”Masks! Magic masks! Become someone else for a day! Big or small, five gold each!”
Masks, glamorous masks. What a wonderful thing for Aislyn to be wasting her mizas on. Small, featureless masks, for use now, or later. She’d be dubious at first, of course, but she’d been provided with enough proof when a small child in front of her had rippled into the shape of another child. Imperfect, of course, but not bad. She’d originally asked for two- one today, one tomorrow, whenever tomorrow may be. But she’d been convinced by the line that had begun to assemble at the vendor’s cart that maybe, just maybe, these things would come in handy.

With her small, safely fastened purse, Aislyn had bought four, three of which now securely stowed in her bag for the future. As she walked away, she plotted all the possible uses. It would be nice to have something else do the illusionism for her, which would, of course, free up her ability for other activities. Such as making walls look like doorways. That one was always her favourite, especially since she could just sit on a rooftop and observe, instead of having to be directly involved. It certainly put a stress on her mind, holding up Maya and the doorway, but it was worth the flickers and the headaches. But if she had the ability to look like anyone, without the strain on her concentration…
The possibilities were endless.

She had four chances, four days to be free to use her mark elsewhere. The only question was where, when, and who? The vendor had said she needed a possession. Something of someone else's, something that had enough of their presence on it to warrant it truly being theirs.
Aislyn owned nothing of the sort.
All the possessions she had were of her own. She didn’t steal anymore, and hadn’t for a long time, so any stolen things of that caliber were long spent or lost. In fact, there wasn’t much she really owned that hadn’t been created, modified, or bought in the past year. Except…
Except for the locket.

All together, of course, it was hers. But the individual pieces, that was another story. The locket itself was her mother’s, the picture inside commissioned from a great artist that made beautifully detailed portraits on such a small scale, and the beads...
The beads were that of a boy named Markis.
Though boy was not the right word. Not anymore.
The was a certain itching at the back of her neck as a plan began to form in the illusionist’s mind. She quickened her pace down the bazaar, holding the chose mask close to her chest. She hadn’t thought about Markis for a long, long time. It had been several seasons since his name had crossed her mind, even longer since she had seen him last. But it was something. Unless she stole something from someone off the street, it was her best bet.

Secluding herself in a handy-dandy alleyway that came up on her left, she set down her things and unhooked the locket from around her neck. It hung heavy from her palm, but carefully, she pulled one of the beads from the string. It caught the dim light, shining azure in the darkness. What had the salesman said to do?

Touch the item to the mask, and think of the person in mind. Easy enough.

Pressing the bead to the empty eye socket of the expressionless mask, Aislyn thought of her childhood friend-turned-foe. For a few ticks, nothing happened. But then the mask began to change. Molded by the magic of Alvadas, it morphed into… Something.
It certainly wasn't the face she had in mind, but a face it was indeed.

[Aislyn Leavold]

The mask, unlike Markis, was feminine, eyes closed in an almost peaceful look. The hair was an accurate black, the look sharp but young, and the eyes were a light brown. All relatively accurate features, from what she could remember. The only inaccuracy was the gender, though that was a rather big mistake to make.

Restringing the chosen bead, Aislyn hooked her locket around her neck again. She turned the mask over in the palm of her hand, finding a small string hooked into the sides of the disturbingly flesh-like material. It was finely made, but the question was by who?
How had a select few bazaar stand owners managed to manipulate the illusions of Alvadas itself? Each illusion was custom made, far out of view of where the masks were purchased. Not to mention the fact that, if someone was casting the illusion themselves, they would have to have the ability to see deep inside a person’s mind. To know what they were thinking.
Or who they were thinking of.

Suspicious origins aside, Aislyn had a mask now. And it would only last for twenty-four bells, so she might as well get to it.

For a few, silent moments, the illusionist let Maya disappear. In the darkness of the alley, no one would notice, but for those few moments, she felt so vulnerable. So alone.
Gently, Aislyn pulled the string back, tying it behind her head. And instantly, something changed. A subtle change, of course, something that, if she hadn’t been looking for it, she wouldn’t have noticed. Like the temperature changing a degree or the wind changing direction. A change that felt almost like a buzz, except she didn’t hear it, or feel it. It was just there.
That meant it had worked, right?

Reaching for her bag, Aislyn pulled out her mirror. A constant, the mirror was always, reliably there. For occasions such as illusionary malfunctions, or magical masks.

Sure enough, in the glint of the glass, there was a face. It was the feminine, dark haired, brown-eyed face that had moments ago been imprinted on the stoic material of the mask. Except now it had an expression, and it was blinking, breathing, alive.
Perfect.

The sense of vulnerability stayed with her, instinct pulling on her mark to bring Maya back. To bring Thief back, to bring anyone back. Anyone but Aislyn. But she didn’t. She stepped out of the alleyway illusionless, the feeling of a mask on her face still present but the mask itself nowhere to be found. She received no strange looks from passerby, no instant callouts from people from her past, no spontaneous end of the world, no anxiety attack. She was in the clear.

Now, it was time to see what she could do.


oocFor the appearance of the mask, I rolled a dice where one was the most accurate and six the least. I got a four. At least Aislyn won't be recognized!

[Aislyn Leavold]

It was only a matter of time.
At first, she was just exploring, her eyes wandering as much as her feet. But she didn’t wander for long. Almost as soon as she was away from the commotion of the bazaar, she was entangled in…
Well, more commotion.
For a moment, Aislyn thought she had stumbled upon the bazaar again, having walked in a circle. But, as she was swallowed up into the crowd, it became very apparent that this was not the bazaar at all. It was practically a festival.

Bright colours, azure, violet, golden, green. The sound of music from an instrument Aislyn couldn’t describe. It was all so… Fast. One moment the street was quiet and still, the next it was full of festivities.
But festivities for what?

Looking around in a special kind of awe, Aislyn lacked the ability to focus on any one thing. The second she found something miraculous, something else caught her eye. She was drawn towards the center of the city, in her path a million things to wonder upon. She had wondered why the streets before had been so empty, there was her answer. It seemed all the citizens of Alvadas had come to partake
In fact, it seemed even Alvadas itself had joined in.
Along with the flying acrobats and graceful dancers, large falcons with heads of lions and bears soared through the streets. Small illusions of floating goldfish in rainbows of colour swam in schools just above a crowd of children, entertaining them to no end. A flock of ribbons that flew like birds landed on the booth to Aislyn’s right. As she passed, the woman plucked one from the air, using it to tie back her now-black hair.

The closer she grew to the center, however, the more the sight and sound of the Speakers grew prevalent. It didn’t take long for her to realize what the festival was for, and who had designed it.
Turning into a side street, Aislyn was met with a long, desperate wail. Following it was a voice chock full of grandeur, speaking as if an actor to an audience; to a crowd.

”People of Alvadas, how eloquently you make your judgement clear!”

Coming across a dead end, Aislyn strained to see what the crowd was looking at. Or rather, who.

”Come now, has this man not betrayed you? Has he not struck a knife in your trust and twisted the blade?”

Weaseling her way to the front, the scene became very apparent. The composed form of the Sea, an ever-present tentacle holding up the defeated figure of what could be a man, had brighter days been shone upon him. It appeared Aislyn had stumbled upon a Speech. That must have been what the festival was about- the speeches. That must have been what the wail was, and what the miscellaneous cries of torture and anguish that she had faintly heard throughout the streets had been. This wasn’t a festival for the Speakers, no, it was by the Speakers.

”Now, dear Alvads, I beg of you as a servant of the people, what would you say, to this man?” The woman paused, her eyes surveying the crowd as if for her next victim. ”What would you say to someone lying, someone thieving, someone clumsy-” She turned towards her victim as she spoke, the last words betrothed upon him personally, spat like poison yet at the same time delivered like silk.
”-someone caught?”

Boos and hisses ignited throughout the crowd, her words sparking flames like flint on dry leaves. She had the crowd thoroughly into it, her ways of speaking so… Exciting.
Despite herself, Aislyn was enjoying it.

”I invite you now, citizens of Alvadas, why don’t we have some volunteers? Say what you mean, mean what you say...”
Once again, her eyes grazed the crowd, a hundred hands in the air but her silent gaze choosing none of them. In her hand appeared, almost from thin air, a jar of paint. Blood red in colour, but otherwise apparently harmless.
”...and show this man what you really think of him?”

Clapping along with the crowd, Aislyn played along. Who would she choose? Certainly, she had enough to choose from. There were plenty who would gladly give anything for a chance to interact with a Speaker, though the woman could tell them- from experience- if you were facing down a Speaker, it most likely meant trouble.
But Aislyn was willing to bet no one in the crowd had ever had to do that.

You there, in the front, come now, show us the merit of your words!”

Looking around, Aislyn tried to spot who she had chosen. Who was having a lucky day? Her eyes failed to deliver, until the Sea spoke again, and in an instant, she realized just what was going on.

[Aislyn Leavold]

”Speak, speak! Speak as many do not, as many cannot. Speak with your hands, speak with the paint.”
One of the Sea’s fingers, or rather, tentacle, was extended directly towards Aislyn’s face. She felt eyes on her, hundreds of eyes. It felt like all of Alvadas was watching. It felt like all the blood in her body froze, but yet she moved, accepting the paint from the Sea’s hands. Moving like clockwork towards the man, held immobile and hung defeated. She felt no guilt and no pity, of course, only the fear for herself, and the fear for what exactly could go wrong. She didn’t particularly care about the man, nor what he had done. If anyone found themselves as the recipient of a speech, they must have deserved it. The speakers didn’t make mistakes, after all.

Mistake.

Before she really realized what she was doing, Aislyn was already drawing out the word along the arm of the man. In bright red, almost bloody lettering. And she had barely finished by the time the pot of paint was snatched from her, passed to the next Alvad to come up and sign their mark. Thief. Liar. Betrayer. Criminal. Worthless, useless, nothing.
Soon, she was pushed back by the crowd, and, to her great relief, able to disappear. The paint dripped down her fingers, droplets that left blood like streaks before she wiped off the excess on her arm. At first, she expected the colour to fade away, covered up by the white of ”Maya’s” skin, as it always had. But then she realized. The illusionist wasn’t an illusion anymore. The drying orange on her skin remained just as visible to her as anyone else.
It was both a horrifying and relieving thought.

Drifting back through the crowd, Aislyn decided that, no matter how much of a favourite the Sea might have been to her, she had no intention of actually being a part of the Speaker’s speeches ever again. Not as a participant, at least. She hadn’t even been in control of the situation, yet she still felt a sort of power, like she was the one who held the man’s life by the strings

It was a strange thought, to have the ability to harm or maim freely. To hold someone’s life in her hands. It had just been paint, of course, but even still. Power was such a beautiful thing.

Moving on throughout the streets, Aislyn strayed passively between the commotion. There were artistic and musical performances alike throughout the festival. She kind of wanted to join in. But at the same time, it was too dangerous. She didn’t just join things like this. In the center of attention, no doubt. She, too, could draw. If she wanted to. But she didn’t have to make a performance out of it. Beauty was quiet, silent, almost. There was no need to make a huge show.

So she watched, soundlessly, a faint smile painted on her face as she watched other artists of varying caliber draw, sketch, and splatter their mediums on their canvases, on the ground, everywhere. There was a particular portion of the street where several painters were gathered in a ring of sorts, and seemed to have gotten more paint on each other than on their canvases. The colours on the ground matched the colours in the sky; a sunset of reds, yellows, oranges, and faintly blue.
A small crowd gathered around the circle, clapping along as a musician put the sound of a mandolin to the messy dance of paints. A few times, the artists switched canvases, twirling around in a sort of partnered movement. When they finished, the paintings looked like no more than strange shapes in a particular pattern.

Eventually, the strumming music came to an end, and it seemed like a rather anticlimactic ending until the artists flipped their works upside down. Three portraits of each other, in budding hues of the sky. Aislyn was certainly impressed, as was the rest of the crowd, it seemed. Thundering applause joined the commotion of the streets before the group dispersed.

Shoes now covered in several new shades of paint, Aislyn found herself pulled with the flow of the rest of the crowd, whom all suddenly seemed to be going in the same direction. All around, lights in every shape and size flickered on. Large lightning bugs that came in all colours of the rainbow, fairy lights that seemed to float without strings attached to hold them up. Candles with birds in flight for candle holders, dripping wax down from the air. Everything seemed so… Happy. So lighthearted and right. This was what Alvadas was meant to be. Those who did well rewarded with shows of art and music, those who went against the will of the city punished as they should have been.
This was what Alvadas was about. What Aislyn was about.

"Speech" - Thought

[Aislyn Leavold]

As the crowd pulled her forward, Aislyn worked her way to the side of the street. Everyone seemed to be going in the same direction, to see the same thing, but none of that mattered if the woman couldn’t see what this thing was. She wasn’t exactly the tallest, after all. Not that she’d ever admit it.
Nonetheless, she made her way to an alleyway, where a relatively easy climb awaited her. A pile of abandoned crates leading up to several windowsills, and an absurd amount of wall decorations. Maybe one story up, and nowhere near high enough to frighten her off.

One hand after the other, one foot swung up, then another. A repeated process that eventually brought her up to the rooftop with only one near-death experience. Aislyn made a mental note that flowerpots were not good stepping stools, but otherwise, gave no heed to the danger.

On top of the roof, Aislyn could see everything. The center stage, and the circular clearing it had appeared in. The growing crowd of what appeared to be all of Alvadas impatiently shuffled beneath her, claps and cheers and the occasional scream creating a musical clamour that rung throughout the entire city. Setting down her backpack, Aislyn took out her notebook and began to sketch the scene. Small dots that became people, strong lines that became buildings. A horizon with the setting sun, until it disappeared below the skyline, the final strands of the sun leaving Aislyn to draw by the light of a nearby candle-bird that appeared to be trying to nest. On the stage, she drew the figures. Three in white robes, three in black. No, no, two in white. There were only two. Then, a hand emerged.
Just as Aislyn finished the sketchy scene and the sun left Alvadas for good, the figures began. Low notes that pierced the artist’s concentration. A harmony with almost-words that she couldn’t understand.

The song floated amongst the city and its denizens, emanating from the singers at almost a personal level with each and every person it touched. In a moment, Aislyn realized. Every person she had ever seen, every person she had ever known. Every human, Zith, every Dhani and Eypharian that called themselves an Alvad was there. Through some magic of the city, every house was empty, and everyone, to some extent, was hearing that song.
In that moment, she felt so small.

Then, the music stopped. Drawing down into a soft hum, the two in white stepped forward. The Nuit, from the season before. Then the ones in black. The Serpent, the Mockingbird, and the Sea. The sight of the three together unnerved Aislyn, despite the intense serenity that the song had given her. She’d faced the three down before, and not even at her own expense. Whenever the Speakers gathered together, she had realized, something always happened.

Picking up the charcoal that had fallen from her hands, Aislyn crossed her legs and flipped the page of her notebook. If there was something to be said, she planned to keep some record of it.

A shadow is cast. It lingers, waiting for the light to fade.
And fade it shall, rot and corruption; death and defilement.

Hold on a moment, no. She must have heard wrong, or something. Everything was so happy, so beautifully Alvadas.
This can’t ruin that.

What is and is not,
What was and will be,
The past repeats itself under the guise of the future,
And yet both find a place in the present.

No, no. That couldn’t be right. Everything had been so happy. Everyone had been so happy. Everything had been going right, and Alvadas had truly been in bloom. All the horrible notions from the season were ended by the happiness of the night. This was a sign that everything would be fine, from the Speakers themselves. From Ionu.
They can’t ruin that.

The woman grew angry at the words she scrawled on the page, the words that were ruining everything. There was silence as Aislyn noted the final words, not pondering the words until they truly sunk in. Then, halfway through the sentence, her charcoal trailed off. The words had meaning. They held weight, a threat.
A warning.
Looking up from her work, Aislyn felt a sudden weight on her chest, a sudden feeling of disconnection, of phantasmagoria.

They are comi-

The artist didn’t have a chance to finish the words before everything went black.

"Speech" - Thought

[Aislyn Leavold]

Aislyn woke up the next day with words on the tip of her tongue.
The city was sick, the city was dying, something was wrong, something’s going to happen.
Shadows, lights fading. Corruption and defilement, the guise of the future. They are coming.
Her prayers to Ionu had gone unanswered. Shadows and secrets plagued every illusion. Nothing was truly lighthearted anymore. Everything had a shadow, had a dark side, had a catch. The thoughts flashed by, almost like hallucinations. She could practically see the hands of the Speakers, and the Nuits. She could hear their song echoing in the back of her mind.

As she bolted upright, a sharp exhale escaped her throat. The sudden light confirmed the fact that it was morning. Streams of lights made the dust in the air shimmer slightly, dancing carelessly on a draft that chilled the woman far more than a breeze should have. She wasn’t cold. She was worried. Her last memory was falling, though whether that was reality or a dream, she wasn’t sure. Falling, and silence. And darkness.
What a delightful trio.

Aislyn was in her home. That much, she knew. Everything appeared to be the same, every piece of the puzzle still in place. She was on the smaller bunk, and her mother was sleeping out on the bed nearby. Completely oblivious to her panic, of course. Scrambling out of the confines of her bedsheets, the illusionist pulled herself up to peer out the window. Pushing back the blinds, she looked out onto the streets.
The very, very empty streets.
A singular, confused pedestrian stumbled out of a nearby home. After half a chime, a few others joined him. Some looked like they had never left the festival, others seemed like they were fresh out of the bar. Hungover, and certainly disgruntled.
Apparently, in the same situation as Aislyn.
Rubbing at her eyes, the woman took a second look. This time, in different focus. She looked in the foreground of the window, to her reflection.
No, not hers. The mask’s.

At least that granted assurance that no more than twenty-four hours had passed.

It seemed safe to assume the rest of Alvadas was waking up just as she had; confused and worried. About Ionu, about the city, everything. The Speakers had a lot to answer for. And the Nuits.
But no Speaker that Aislyn knew of - or Nuit, for that matter- had the power to make a city fall asleep. No one mortal being could just plunge a city into darkness, only for them to wake up the next day.
Perhaps Ionu had a lot to answer for.
But Ionu didn’t answer things. That much was very, very certain. Ionu was forever as tangible as their illusions, just barely out of reach. No one could reach Ionu. The deity was far too great for any mortal to claim. Ionu didn’t have to answer anything. Ionu was a god.
Aislyn, however, was not.

Finding her bag neatly set at the edge of her bed, the artist pulled her notebook from within it. A certain curiosity sparked within her, to see if anything had changed. If anything was stranger, in the spirit of Alvadas.
Within the pages, the scene from the day prior still stood boldly on the page. The Speakers, the Nuits, the crowd, the stage. All together. Then, on the next page, the words. The warnings. The trailed off letters of they are coming. Near the end, a wobbling line that became an angry scribble, that fell into the darkening of the rest of the page.
There was her “strange”.
It was like someone had taken up a vendetta against that particular page, attacking everything below the words with a charcoal trail of black. Looking down at her hands, the artist found them- both of them- to be stained with the same black mark.
Aislyn certainly didn’t remember that.

Fighting a chill that went down her spine, the woman closed the coverings on the window once again. Robotically, she crossed the room, dousing her palms in the wash basin. The black smudges ran into the water, darkening it. When her hands were clean, she opened the door just enough to toss the tainted liquid outside. In the ever-mercurial way of the city, several tiny crows, around the size of butterflies, were resting on her doorstep. They scattered at the sight of the water, leaving Aislyn with a squawk and a whole lot of questions to ponder.

Ionu didn’t answer questions, but that certainly didn’t stop the people of Alvadas from asking them.

"Speech" - Thought

[Kaleidoscope]

 

Aislyn Leavold

Skills

• Climbing: +1
• Drawing: +1
• Observation: +3
• Planning: +1
• Stealth: +1
• Writing: +1

Lores

• Illusion-less vulnerability
• Alvadas event: The Speeches
• The power of control
• Climbing: Choose your path carefully
• Alvadas: Something’s Coming (Fall/Winter 515 AV)

Comments
Aislyn, you capture the spirit of Alvadas wonderfully. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this!

If I've missed something out that you'd like me to include, lores or skills, then just send me a PM and I'll look into it for you.

Enjoy your grade, and please don't forget to delete/edit out your grade request. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me a PM.