Closed Eyes Wide Shut

[Alija]

9th Summer 517

Alija sat in the Library, deciding that the quiet, studious area was the perfect place to look over her Nador Canoch notes, and so she was doing that, head down, eyes falling along the words she had written. They sprawled line after line of unfamiliar scribbles, words that fell out like sand but made no beaches or coasts she could recognise. The few words she could pin with meanings were sparse and useless - djed, nader, abase - and the grammar fitted together like a poorly fitting jigsaw.

"Roza abase dala," she read the sentence before her, trying to figure out in which alien world these words were formed and made sense. They were words she knew - she knew she knew - but words that refused to stick, like poorly welded metal. And to a novice at this talent, she couldn't figure out why they wouldn't go together, and how to improve that. "Roza..." and her mind wandered, searching for connections and paths that would take her further.

Giving in to her dictionary was cheating. She didn't need the support, she didn't need the crutch in the slightest. She was going to get through this - without that aid.

"Roza... roses?" Her mind pictured a rose garden, entwined with beautiful cast iron gates and fences that were more beautiful than the things contained. Her hand moved subconsciously, detailing the pattern in her scratching drawings alongside the margin, picturing making them. Every curve felt right; she could feel the fire, the metal under her, she knew the angles she'd use, the strength of the blows. Everything.

Then her mind moved to the roses she had made, so long ago, in the smithy, and she remembered Donovan who had given her one. The fun they had... the banter in the smithy, the constant joking and laughing, his constant newfound habits, the strive to be something more than he was. All the posh junk he bought, like that violin, like....

Her mind had gone too far. Roza had nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with Donovan and violins and roses. It was death, her eyes falling on the meaning in her notebook suddenly. Death, and end, and termination.

Were the words linked? Of course roses and death couldn't be, but some had to be. This language had resulted in their own, surely? There had to be something that they shared, even roots of words that were buried in their modern day counterparts. She'd have to ask someone about that, or delve deeper into the vocabulary and search for links on her...

There she was again, distracted by her fleeting mind. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus herself. And what better way then to search the auras around her? Letting the tendrils of her sight without eyes spread, she searched for something to read, to focus her mind on so she could return to her work with her distractions gone.

But when would Alija stop asking questions, stop searching?

Never, so she had to remind herself that by learning this language, the answers to the things she wanted to know were one step closer, one hand reach closer. So she had to find this focus, or give up all the work today.

[Za'ir]

Za'ir Za’ir was feeling impatient, the bones he was planning to work on for his Judgement were drying in the sun, leaving the Nuit with essentially nothing to do. Stagnation did not sit well with Za’ir, his obsessive need to work had been plaguing him mercilessly. To others a time of reprieve would have been a welcome gift before an important test. Za’ir felt differently; stagnation meant apathy, apathy made one useless, uselessness was the precursor to death, and death was a deeply foreboding concept to consider. In fact it was a place that Za’ir refused to allow his mind to wander. So, without any particular destination he just starting walking, attempting to outpace the thoughts that he so strongly dreaded thinking. After meandering through the small hallways of the quarters, continuously muttering notes about his coming project softly to himself, Za'ir found himself in front of the Library. The massive complex of rare books was a type of paradise for Za'ir, the amount of knowledge stored here being unparalleled anywhere that the awestruck Nuit had ever heard of. He could still hardly believe his eyes at the seemingly endless supply of reading material. The mere sight of the grand collection of knowledge was enough to dispel any dark thoughts and chase any personal demons away from his mind. Za’ir starting walking forward; eyes opening wide, jaw snapping shut, and mind closed to the outside world as he soaked in the majesty of the library on Sahova. Za’ir wandered through the aisles of books, glancing at the titles briefly as he continued his aimless exploration. One of the books eventually caught his eye, it was a book on Malediction that discussed how to appraise newly created talismans, specifically dealing with using Auristics for that purpose. Za’ir immediately picked up the book and began to read it voraciously as he continued walking towards a row of desks to his right. His mind was racing as he read; the parts about Malediction he understood fairly well but the sections dealing with Auristics left him as baffled as before he had begun. When he was much younger his father had warned Za’ir that learning the effects of a talisman could be very dangerous without proper auristic examination. Za’ir had experienced firsthand some minor curses from items he had created throughout his career. He needed to learn more about this arcane discipline, he could not continue researching Malediction at full potential if there was a constant risk of being exposed to a dangerous curse. Thankfully, this was one of the reasons he had come to the Island, to learn more about magic and to make his research a more profitable use of time. If any place in the world were to have resources to help better his grasp of Auristics, it would be this Island and this library. He was also to be apprenticed soon, if he passed the judgement anyway, and Za’ir was certain that any master he served under would be an invaluable resource for gleaning magical information. While he was in the middle of his thoughts concerning his education, the upcoming judgement, research projects that he wanted to study, and the content of the book he was still skimming, Za’ir tripped. He had become so engrossed in his thoughts and the book that he had failed to see the leg of a table, his foot however was able to locate it quite forcefully. Za’ir first realized his predicament when he felt his foot come to an abrupt halt. If he had posessed even a sliver of reaction speed he probably would have been able to right himself and avoid an embarrassing fall. Unfortunately he had no such reaction speed, he had barely realized what had happened before he started to fall straight down towards the ground. Za’ir panicked realizing that he was still holding a book belonging to the library and frantically pulled it close to his chest in an attempt to save the document for any damage. As he braced for impact, Za’ir was surprised to fall into something far softer than a floor. Something that moved quickly after his impact and uttered some sound that Za'ir was too dazed to comprehend. As Za’ir opened his eyes, having of course squeezed them shut as he fell, he found that he was staring into the lap of a rather disgruntled looking human woman. She appeared to be quite as shocked as he felt. When he had fallen, her legs had been stretched out in front of her, they had caught the already stumbling Nuit, and had turned his fall directly towards her. Za’ir was now laying in a heap across her legs with his face embarrassingly located in her lap. Za’ir got up in what seemed to him like an instant, although due to his sluggish movement it was actually an awkwardly long moment of time, and found that he was still clutching the book to his chest. It was thankfully unharmed, a good sign for his future health. Za’ir was certain that the wizards here didn't take kindly to property damage, particularly damage to their precious books. He then somewhat reluctantly turned his attention to the woman whom he had just fallen onto, certain that he would rather have nearly any conversation other than the one he was about to have. The woman in question looked strong and muscular, clearly she was accustomed to difficult work. Her shoulder length hair was looked to be somewhere in the range of blonde to brown. She appeared to have been reading something before he had tripped into her. She still seemed to be recovering from the shock of having a man trip and fall into her lap, but didn’t seem to have been hurt at all from the encounter. Za’ir steadied his emotions and then launched into his apology; his monotone and detached tone not aiding his strange and blunt choice of words. “I am Za’ir. I have fallen on you due to a failure to remain aware. I do not perceive that you have been harmed. I apologize for any physical or emotional discomfort. Do you require any amends from me?”

[Alija]

Eyes closed, she focused on her breathing, reaching out to the nearest thing around. In this case - in all the cases on this island - it was one of the undead, his motionless aura clinging tightly to his bones as if it was trying not to be pulled off. She ran her mind over it, feeling it without touching it, letting herself observe but not understand because she wasn't interested in understanding. It was just the best way she knew to focus herself, because when reading auras, her mind strayed to very little else.

The aura shifted, and for a second, everything seemed normal, then she felt the direction of it, and froze. Without opening her eyes, she tried to jump back and up, out of the way of the falling aura, but her foot caught on the chair, and the chair caught on something and she couldn't move quick enough. As he made contact, the woman shifted upwards, before slamming against the chair, not ready for the sudden weight. She let out a disgruntled noise at the impact, leaning back in wait for the thing to get out of her lap and away from her.

As she did, she let her eyes fall open against the figure, scowling clearly on the pale figure who seemed to be taking an age to get away. The body wasn't an impressive one, and since he was a Nuit, there was no way he was hiding any sort of strength. Only a book in his curled arms, which seemed to have the word "auristics" written on the front but it was too obscured by his hand for her to figure that part out clearly enough.

Taking a deep breath in, her nostrils flared, settling after the initial shock of the impact. He seemed to begin to speak, but his words were so lifeless she could barely listen to them. Was he just reciting a script, preplanned for this event? Most likely not, but he seemed to be. Perhaps it was the isolation each and every Nuit here experienced that made his speech so unnatural, or the lack of emotion she was certain that haunted them, even with what they faked.

It was his suggestion of amends that interested her the most. One thing she did know about Nuit and
Sahovan culture was that amends, favours and all deals pertaining to that were taken seriously. Getting the upper hand, or so it seemed, simply required making sure everyone owed you in the end. Not that she'd trust the Nuit with that, if it came down to it, but for now, she was planning on playing along with their games. And if he was offering to make amends for the incident - which had been unfortunate and uncomfortable, but not particularly drastic - she was going to take advantage of that, as much as she could.

The trouble was, she had no idea how much he was offering and what he'd agree was suitable. "Depends. Depends on what you can offer me." It was so fake. She knew that as soon as she said it. Instead of sounding as if she was all powerful and had little use for a Nuit like him, she sounded... sounded like she was faking it. Maybe he wouldn't pick up on that? If his way of speaking showed anything about his knowledge of socialisation, perhaps he wouldn't notice?

Letting that remain as a hopeful thought, she nodded towards the book he held, curious about what it was and whether she had misread part of the title. "What are you reading?" she asked, trying to not let her curiosity show and remain as emotionless as possible. Of course, she wasn't an actor - and it wasn't going to work.