Completed [Job Thread] Sinking Streets and Striking Colours

[Aislyn Leavold]

When Aislyn hit the ground, it hurt a lot less than she'd been expecting.
Or maybe 'hit' was the wrong word. 'Stopped falling' was more accurate. At first she was convinced she was indeed still falling, but with no rushing air filing past her skin and her hair once again falling in a disgruntled sort of shape on her head, it was easier to tell. This was, indeed, the ground.
Perhaps the same as the ground she had fallen off of.

All of a sudden, an idea hit her. This was Alvadas, and she was stupid. Perhaps the platform hadn't broken, perhaps she hadn't fallen, perhaps she had just been sitting on perfectly solid ground with her eyes shut screaming blue murder.
And she'd let her illusion down.
Petch, she was stupid.
Mentally, she tried to reapply 'Maya'. Her work, however, was rushed, resulting in a barely half-finished appearance by the time it started flickering.
At least she was alone.

"Did you fail too?"

She couldn't even have loneliness, could she?

Jumping, Aislyn snapped her head towards the voice. Just out of her line of sight, there was a slab of stone, and a man. A strange man. A man who was dressed in bare skin and horns, strangely enough. She'd never seen a humanoid being with horns before. Then again, more likely than not, this wasn't a being.
More likely, an illusion. Or Ionu, in disguise.
It's not like there was much of a difference.

Thanking Akajia for the darkness, Aislyn took advantage of the dim light to try to salvage her illusion. Slowly, this time. Piece by piece.

Cautiously, Aislyn also began to process the statement that had startled her so badly. Did you fail as well?
Fail?
What did he mean by fail?
Aislyn might have failed at many things that day, but none that landed her deservingly in this pit of Hai. Had there been some sort of test? Was this some sort of test? Had she failed that?
Had Ionu given her a test, and she failed it?

An uncomfortable feeling began to rise in her throat. If she had failed a task given to her by Alvadas, or by Ionu, or even by whatever being- should it not be Ionu, though it probably was- that had the power to create such a detailed illusion, what were the repercussions? The man in front of her gave no indication of incoming punishment, but the distantness in his voice gave him an uncomfortably all-knowing tone. Seeing no reason to lie, Aislyn took several ticks to compose herself before speaking. Ionu take mercy on her soul.

”Yes, I suppose I have."

[Fable]

His lips turned in a soft frown, hand extending to catch a familiar, cylindrical case that fell from somewhere up in the shadowy reaches above them. "I see." Unfurling the artist's work, the man stared at the drawing with a face comparable to the static expression of stone, eyes never once flickering as he seemed fixated on a singular point. Turning the paper so that it was flat before him like a table, the markings floated above it, filling in the air into a miniature replica of The Mischief complete with a small sea and drifting cloudy sails. "I wonder, sometimes, what he's thinking. Does she listen when I speak? Does he wonder when I ponder?" He rolled up the scroll once more, placing it carefully into its container before tossing it in a slow, gentle arc towards the woman to whom it belonged. "Are you he? Or she? Or... Are you something else entirely?"

The quality of his voice had not changed. Every question seemed more of a front than a true inquiry, as if he knew the answers even better than their interrogative counterparts. "No, no. It isn't what you are or aren't so much as what you can be, isn't it. There's nothing more tantalizing than potential, but potential itself is only limited by what can't, what shouldn't, what... won't." Throughout his soliloquy, the man had let his eyes wander, never truly addressing the other woman until his next, true question, one that sounded as sincere as the smoldering gaze that demanded attention, whether by intention or no. "Will you or won't you?"

Before an answer could be given, the man was gone. Perhaps he had disappeared in the time it took Aislyn to blink or perhaps he had never been there at all, but there extended before her two flights of stairs, one that rose and another that descended, the rock a solid guard of the ally's entrance left unencumbered by its once-companion.

[Aislyn Leavold]

This was a very peculiar situation.
She was stuck in a hole, she had no feasible way of escape, and her hard work was in the hands of a scantily clad man that Aislyn wished was wearing more clothes.
Said scantily clad man also appeared to have a worthy grasp on some sort of magic, considering the fact that Aislyn’s hard work was now more illusion than paint.

As the ship drifted lazily around her head, Aislyn tried to make a mental note of what exactly the man was saying. Does she listen when I speak? Does he wonder when I ponder?

Was he referring to the Mischief? The ocean? Ionu?
If it was Ionu, the agender personification of the deity explained the strange pronoun placement of the man’s words. But his gaze also never left the floating ship, as if he were speaking to the illusion instead of Aislyn herself. The whole situation was uncomfortably peculiar. Even the way the scroll seemed to float through the air instead of falling was strange. Nonetheless, Aislyn caught the parchment, turning it over in her hands to reassure herself that her hard work was, indeed, intact.

The woman had just opened her mouth to thank the man when he interrupted her with more questions. He, she, something else entirely? The questions got stranger and stranger. This time, Aislyn stayed quiet, hoping that she was correct in her guess at the rhetoricality of the man’s words.
A few ticks later, he continued, regardless of her lack of answer.

”No, no. It isn't what you are or aren't so much as what you can be, isn't it? There's nothing more tantalizing than potential, but potential itself is only limited by what can't, what shouldn't, what... won't.”

Potential. What can be. The more Aislyn thought about it, taking his words at face value, the more the man made sense. Perhaps she’d judged too quickly; the man could, after all, be a sort of prophecy. He was a part of an illusion, was he not? An illusion himself, even. That meant he had some connection to Ionu, and, well, gods were tricky things. Convoluted questions that were really answers, convoluted answers that were really questions…

”Will you or won’t you?”

Well, at least she knew for sure that was a question.

Except, when she tried to answer, there was no one to answer to. He was gone, the mysterious stranger whom she hadn’t even caught the name of. Did he even have a name at all? Illusions, though personalities they might have, didn’t have names. Or, at least, you didn’t ask for their names. Because they were illusions.

Will you or won’t you?

The question rung in her head, which was still reeling from his first question. From what she understood, he was asking about her… Potential?

Blinking, Aislyn took a look around, making sure she was, indeed, alone. It appeared all that remained of the mysterious man was her still slightly luminous scroll, and a dual set of staircases, one that went up, and one that went down. A decision, then.

Will you or won’t you?

What was the potential here? Two staircases, one that led upwards, and one that led downwards. Upwards presumably led to the surface, which, had Aislyn stumbled upon it a few chimes before, she would have eagerly chosen. But now, downwards held that possibility of potential, just as the man had said. She still had so many questions left unanswered, that, should the woman leave now, would remain unanswered.

Damn her curiosity, for it would be the death of her.

Will you or won’t you?
Scroll in hand, Aislyn descended.
I will.

[Aislyn Leavold]

OOCPermission from Fable to continue this as a solo where Aislyn stumbles into the Underground.

As she descended, the scroll she kept clutched in her hands lost its glow. Once again, it was just a regular scroll, a regular image of a not-so regular boat encased within it. Whoever ’Red’ was, and whoever they were giving the scroll to, Aislyn hoped they were happy with the result. She’d never really met with her patrons before, so they never knew what she went through in order to produce what ended up on their doorstep. All they knew is that they got a pretty picture for a couple mizas from an artist by the name of Maya.

They didn’t know about the rooftops she fell off for the view, or the crowds she dodged for the peace, or the spilled paints and crushed charcoals. All they saw was the pretty painting, and most certainly not the story behind it. In a way, it was a beautiful relationship. She was essentially faceless, as were they. Unfortunately, such a relationship also landed her situations like the one she was in at the moment. Mind reeling from a strange horned man and apparently trapped in an underground portion of Alvadas that she’d never been before.

The fact that there was an underground portion of Alvadas wasn’t even the most outrageous thing she’d learned that day.

She would have brushed it off as part of the illusion, but this seemed to be on too grand of a scale to be just an illusion. If she looked up, she found no roof, no walls. Almost as if she was outside again. And… a moon?
Could she have fallen into another city, in another time?

Ionu wouldn’t be that cruel to her, would They? Time must have passed, yes, but the sun hadn’t even been setting. How could it be nighttime already?
Yet low and behold, she was in a strange, unrecognizable part of Alvadas, supposedly underground, and there was a moon in the sky. And she had no idea this place existed. Unless it didn’t exist. Which was rather unfortunate, should that be the case.

Advancing through the darkened street, Aislyn felt very out of place. This was a Thief sort of place, not a Maya place. She could, of course, switch illusions, but that required somewhere quiet and secluded if she didn’t want to raise suspicion. Which she, of course, had no way of procuring. As she drew away from where she had entered and turned onto what seemed to be a street, people began to dot the landscape. Very, very shady people. Cloaked figures and ragged children. Aislyn held her possessions a fair bit closer as the street grew to be more crowded, feeling more than one stare tossed her way.
Eventually, the illusionist was able to fade Maya’s bright colours and bright eyes into Thief’s more inconspicuous appearance. Not before, however, she had at least two previously innocent-looking children attempt to get too close for comfort. She pitied them, but not enough to hand them her coin purse.

As Thief, the woman felt much more comfortable. After almost a bell of wandering and observing, she concluded that the place was stuck in a perpetual nighttime, perfect for those that knew of its existence to… thrive. Or fester, depending on your view. The people seemed so poor, so pushed to desperation, it uncomfortably reminded Aislyn of her childhood. It was only due to luck that she managed to stay a pauper on the light side of Alvadas, and not part of the many orphans adopted by the night, in this strange flipside of the city.


Or perhaps she had been an orphan of the underground, and simply didn’t remember it. After all, even in the strangeness of the place, there was a certain familiarity to it. It might have been the fact that, though darker and obviously less luxurious, this place was still Alvadas, but at the same time...
Perhaps, a lifetime before.

[Aislyn Leavold]

It took a while for Aislyn to find her way out of the Underground.
On her way, she seemed to pass the same building so many time, over and over again. She passed the same children- a small girl in a tattered blue dress with eyes brighter than her future, an older boy with a weapon that was far larger than his skill- and the same streets. The same alleyway, with a sleeping winged figure inside that, when she began to recognize it, Aislyn walked quite a bit faster as she passed. The same things so often, she was sure the whole underside of the city was simply a loop.

There was the building that seemed to watch her, with an ever growing amount of shapes in the windows. There was the man with the oversized cloak who was selling pocket watches and ”Ionu’s blessing”. There were races of bestial kinds, wings and tails, and even a man who Aislyn swore had horns. The whole experience was just one strange encounter after enough, so much so that she swore that ”Thief” would one day have to return, if only she could find the entrance again.
And to think, just a few seasons before, Aislyn had barely used Thief at all. Now, she was in her element.

Backpack held close and scroll held closer, Aislyn wandered the streets, watching those who passed with a sort of curiosity that went (mostly) unnoticed. She was a naturally inconspicuous figure, and for once she was grateful for her short stature. But even blending in didn’t help you all that much when you were gawking at every intimidating figure that passed by. Eventually, however, she came across a door.
A very small door. In a very small alleyway. A door that, when Aislyn crouched down to investigate, popped open suspiciously easily. Despite this, the woman shuffled in anyway.
Curiosity above common sense, after all.

Inside the very small doorway was a very small pathway that progressively got less very-small. Eventually, it was just a very dark pathway with some very dark stairs that, just when Aislyn was planning on turning back, led to a luckily normal sized door. Which, when tentatively pushed open, seemed to unleash the floodgates for what seemed like the most light Aislyn had seen in what felt like years. Which, though at first welcomed, instantly became simultaneously the best and worst thing that had happened to her all day.

Ionu save her, Syna burned.

When the woman finally managed to open her eyes, she found herself to be standing, once again, in the bustling streets of above-ground Alvadas. When she turned back, no door could be found, big or small. Just a wall, above a dusty cellar door with a hefty lock that confirmed the fact that there was no way Aislyn could have come through it. It was simultaneously a taunting way of inviting her back and a keep out sign at the same time.

Turning onto the street, Aislyn found herself on the doorstep of the Wolf’s Cave Inn. The words of her commission rung in her head, from just a few bells before;

The finished product may be dropped off with Micah at The Wolf’s Cave inn.

How convenient.
Very, very, suspiciously convenient.

[Fable]

A I S L Y N . L E A V O L D

a d r o i t . a c c r e t i o n s

❁ intelligence 2
❁ investigation 4
❁ organization 2
❁ endurance 1
❁ observation 2
❁ drawing 2
❁ tactics 1
❁ copying 1
❁ writing 1
❁ rhetoric 1
❁ philosophy 2
❁ land navigation 1

e s p i e d . e r u d i t i o n

❁ the alvadas underground

r e c o m p e n s e . a n d . r e t r i b u t i o n

❁ Upon returning to her home, Aislyn will find a wooden post with a wooden box affixed to it. Lettering under a slit in the box's face reads "The Artist".

d e t e r m i n a t i v e . d i c t a

Foreshadowing.