Closed Echoes (Eleutheria)

[Mauriel]

7th, Fall, 518 AV

This specific date during early Fall was very important for Mauriel, as it was the first time she had truly seen Lhavit. Up until now, the shining city was dressed in rather thick fog, concealing its beauty form the beholder, but today the fog has suddenly and unexpectedly cleared out. Or perhaps not so unexpectedly according to those who believed it had to do with an ancient relic found nearby, either way, it didn't make much of a difference to the Akvatari.

Big bridges, tall domes, shimmering skyglass, all basking in Syna's light, there was no greater sight to behold. Mauriel has spent the whole day just flying around and staring at various parts of the city. She had visited the Bharani Library countless times, but has never actually seen it. Good Gods, what a sight. Each peak was more beautiful than the other, and the city being so captivating was such a great expression of its honor to Zintila, Syna, and Leth, that she could not imagine a better tribute.

The previous culture she has enjoyed truly paled in comparison in her mind. For a while now, Mauriel had been repeating a story that was her retelling of an old Akvatarian Epic. She tried to shorten it and boil it down to its most gripping points, so it would be appealing to people who did not understand their culture of individualism and independence very well. Hopefully, the story would make people understand a bit more about them. And yet, the Ethaefal's enthusiasm over having extracted this story was gone the second the strange mist disappeared.

After her awe exhausted he physical capabilities, she finally sat down to rest. She was sitting on a flight of stairs, looking down on the city's beauty, still. Her obsession quickly made her feel afraid. Was she getting too attached to a place again? No matter how magnificent, she must not let herself take root here.

She tried to recount her retelling of the myth. Maybe that will remind her of the value of other cultures...

[Mauriel]

Once upon a time on an island very far away, lived a monster so fierce that the people yielded to its will, offering it sacrifices and working for it just to keep it docile. Some say the monster was a cruel God, some that it was a powerful mage, and some yet that it was a monster of old, one of the rare still alive. None however dispute its power, for it has left a mark on the culture that cannot be denied by any rational mind.

When this monster came to power, a long line of kings was in the midst of their benevolent reign over the kingdoms. Fair skinned, with big golden translucent wings, light hair, and a light tail to match, they were a sight to behold. But a king who ruled when the monster came was old and blind, and darkness has set into his old heart, not allowing him to heed the warnings of the youth, and so the beast took over, slaughtering his family wherever it found them. Unbeknownst to the beast, however, the king had a lover, and that lover bore him a child, and the two of them escaped far away from the kingdom, where the baby's light features would not be a cause for a hunt.

The beast reigned for a hundred years, while the king's son ended up having three sons of his own. The story of the terrible fate that befell their family was past down to them, and the three brothers decided that they wanted to rescue their people from the claws of this terrifying beast. The eldest brother wanted the glory of being the people's hero, the middle one was hoping for the power restoring the throne of their family would bring him, while the youngest one simply thought that the people's freedom was of utmost importance and it deserved protection from those who would threaten it, as he wanted his freedom defended as he would defend that of others.

The oldest brother went to fight the beast first and was not heard from in seasons. The last one to give up hope was his wife, after which his death was official.

The second brother followed suit, and he was not heard from in seasons. The last one to give up hope was his wife, after which his death was official.

His grandmother begged of the last brother not to go, as his death would end the line, but he said that he must, and promised her to live. The youngest brother then went, and as the seasons past the people had begun worrying that they had lost all three of the remaining fertile people of king's blood, but they have soon received a gift that dissuaded them. The youngest brother had sent them the beast's head, and nothing else, but it was invite enough for them.

When they came back to the kingdom they were welcomed as heroes, their descendant pronounced royalty for his heroism. Keeping only some of the land his family used to own, however, he pronounced the island a free city, making its people swear to never succumb to a corrupt hierarchy again, and to use their lives to pursue virtue, knowledge, and beauty.

When asked how did he defeat the beast, the youngest brother explained that he had not. He simply got the people to put an organized effort up against it, using their unique talents and perspectives to think of the best plan.

[Eleutheria]

There's always a problem. Sometimes a situation, sometimes a person, sometimes a group. And there's always a hero. Person, society, anything, facing a problem and possibly coming up with a solution.

Every story Elea knew, followed that pattern. Few ever haven't. Like life always being built upon a certain component, or sentient entities usually being of humanoid form, that pattern always recurred in storytelling. Somehow, that thought could not be shaken off as Elea walked the stairs that were all quite familiar to her, after she got used to Lhavit.

Yesterday, she'd be dividing attention between a bard and a bottle of ale. The bard sung a story. All she remembered of the story, was that it somehow resembled parts of Lhavit's history. Or is it an accurate thing to say? Was it not just the same pattern of problem, hero and (optional) solution?

Lo and behold, though! That same bard, recognisable with her Akvatari-like appeareance, was walking the same street. Perhaps she'd alleviate the questions Elea kept in her head. So Elea approached. Fixed her face on the bard. And worked few moments to come up with a greeting.

[Mauriel]

A figure seemed to approach her, hiding the city she was taking in from sight. Mildly annoyed, she wondered when will they pass her by, but soon enough it became apparent that the woman in question wasn't walking around her, but towards her. She raised her head to meet the redhead's gaze, vaguely recognizing her features, though she was unsure where from. She remembered everyone she knew by name very well, and besides it's been less than a seasons since she met any of them. She made it a point to memorize them all, but this woman she certainly hadn't met, maybe saw in passing.

She stood up, fluttering her butterfly wings to propel herself towards the redhead, who seemed to struggle a bit with what to say. "Hello," Mauriel greeted her first, trying to ease her discomfort. "I'm Mauriel. I seem to remember you from somewhere, but can't quite place it, I apologize."

[Eleutheria]

"Elea's my name. I think I saw you... in the tavern, yesterday. You were singing. Telling stories for patrons. I did liked it, I would say" - the bard heard in answer. - "You reside here, or just staying here for some time?" - Elea followed.

"I hope to be of no disturbance, but.. I was heading to library, for answers for some things I was boggled about. But perhaps one of them ought to be yours to answer. Assuming of course you have time."

Elea wondered whether she'd ever approach anyone if not of need or curiosity. Was everyone compelled to contact one another due to want or curiosity, with Elea being merely more self-concious about it? Or were we thinking fiddlesticks?

Just when Elea entertained that question, she thought of her parents. Of course people had other reasons than need or curiosity, she thought now. At least the question to the bard was going to be a different one.

[Mauriel]

The women introduced herself as Elea. She omitted to mention her surname, like many humans and other races often did, which made Mauriel think there might be something different about her. Or maybe she was just being casual? She didn't know. "Nice to meet you, Elea. You must have been to Scholar's Demise up at Zintia then, I work there. I'm usually there at night. And I'm not actually local, though I plan to stay for some time at least. I have a residence here and work, but I will eventually leave. You don't have to worry about me disappearing on you anytime soon, tho."

The matter-of-fact way in which Elea spoke surprised Mauriel a bit. It was pleasant enough, but something felt weird about it. Most people looked happier than they might have been exchanging pleasantries, but this woman seemed to only deal with facts of the matter. She was sorry to disturb. She needed information. If Mauriel would provide it, she'd take it. If not, she'd go to the library. It was almost as if she was laying out an algorithm for the Akvatari to know how to fit in.

"I'd be glad to answer some questions if you have them, though I'm not very knowledgeable. I've actually mostly read up from the library myself."

[Eleutheria]

Elea listened carefully, not breaking the peace of Mauriel explaining away. She nodded modestly and started engraving answers in her heart: The example she told of, the possibilities, the feelings of Mauriel about it… and the actual answer.
Once upon a time, Elea was trying to transmute a fluid for her alchemy studies. She needed a liquid of certain characteristic. So she scried the library over and over to find a right fluid, presuming it to be something rare and obscure. Then it hit her. She needed olive oil, nothing more.
Likewise, the story that seemed to weird to look for, could be found by simply recalling a poem.

Elea loved investigating obscure puzzles in search of well-hidden truths. But when you search hard enough for hidden answers, you overlook the ones in plain sight. What a powerful confidence trick that was, hiding in plain sight! People, schemes and facts alike, embraced that unseen mantle, seen, but unseen.
The audience sees what it wants to see. If they don’t like a performance, they’ll go. If they do, they stay and expect to see what they like. Overlooking all the rest, sometimes.

“Indeed it has something to do with what we want… and sometimes we can’t see anything else indeed. Yet it’s not. Else who would write and enjoy poetry?” – Elea finally started. She got a gnawing feeling that she seemed aloof in her own thoughts, so she willed herself to reestablish eye contact with Mauriel.

“I suppose the our appreciation of art as a whole is because we “feel that way”. And, hey!” – she laughed candidly – “I did not expected to find it in a library, that’s why I turned to you. How come you caught it like… nevermind. I sometimes speak one thing and mean it, but upside down.” – she finished, blushing at her own clumsiness. She wanted to take care of what she was really saying… but it is so tiring, while your mind conjures so many other thoughts, like a mage’s Djed, thrown into disarray! And she did not wanted to hear anything about it… how to change the subject, how to change the subject! Mauriel’s well-travelled, she seems interested in what people want to see… else she would not be a bard… There it is. There’s what Elea needs.

“Ever been to Ravok? I spent my whole life there, coming to Lhavit only recently.”

[Mauriel]

Mauriel frowned slightly at the strange question. "Well..." It took her a chime to actually think about it. Most stories indeed fit the mentioned mold, and the further one deviated from it the less interesting the story tended to be. "I can actually think of one, but the deviation from that pattern is strictly technical, in that the protagonist doesn't want to solve his problem, but stumbles upon a solution he's satisfied with anyway." She had partially hoped to be asked to tell the story, as it was one she liked to tell and that she completely made up recently, as per usual. She should really start looking into more pre-existing things and learning them, creative chaos was fun and all, but she'll end up spending a lot of time in Lhavit having absorbed none of its authentic oral culture.

"If you want a story devoid of overcoming any sort of problem or challenge in any way, shape, or form, that'd be a weird story indeed." When she said that, something occurred to her. "Oh, yeah, actually the answer is silly. Most such stories aren't stories, but poems. When people capture the static aesthetic of something in words or try to express emotions unbridled by narrative, they seem to want it to sound good as well." She chuckled. "I don't know why that'd be. Perhaps many have tried doing the same thing in prose, but it's simply not as engaging? This question seems to be more about the audience than it is about the medium itself. Why do we like the things that we like, and why does the rest fall into such obscurity that you would not even hear of it? Who knows."

Although this had gotten Mauriel thinking. It'd be interesting to deviate from those conventions in a way that manages to capture the audience nonetheless. She was already trying to think of a descriptive sentence or a paragraph which would have the punch of a poem without having such rhythm to it, and the attempt to think of that has suddenly fuzzied the lines between poetry and prose in her head. What makes a sentence sound poetic, even if she might not be intending it as such?

"I think it's possible, though I have more questions than answers now after thinking about this. So I can't really justify to you why I think it's possible. It just feels that way." What a great argument! Though the Akvatari was sure that Elea would be convinced if she could feel what she felt. It was as though the task of thinking up of such a story was taunting her now. Not that an impossible task couldn't tickle one's imagination, but this story felt just out of reach, just in front of her, in a mist like the one that disappeared this morning, always a step ahead but clearly there. "How in the world were you intending to find the answer to that in the library anyway?"

[Eleutheria]

Elea listened carefully, not breaking the peace of Mauriel explaining away. She nodded modestly and started engraving answers in her heart: The example she told of, the possibilities, the feelings of Mauriel about it… and the actual answer.
Once upon a time, Elea was trying to transmute a fluid for her alchemy studies. She needed a liquid of certain characteristic. So she scried the library over and over to find a right fluid, presuming it to be something rare and obscure. Then it hit her. She needed olive oil, nothing more.
Likewise, the story that seemed to weird to look for, could be found by simply recalling a poem.

Elea loved investigating obscure puzzles in search of well-hidden truths. But when you search hard enough for hidden answers, you overlook the ones in plain sight. What a powerful confidence trick that was, hiding in plain sight! People, schemes and facts alike, embraced that unseen mantle, seen, but unseen.
The audience sees what it wants to see. If they don’t like a performance, they’ll go. If they do, they stay and expect to see what they like. Overlooking all the rest, sometimes.

“Indeed it has something to do with what we want… and sometimes we can’t see anything else indeed. Yet it’s not. Else who would write and enjoy poetry?” – Elea finally started. She got a gnawing feeling that she seemed aloof in her own thoughts, so she willed herself to reestablish eye contact with Mauriel.

“I suppose the our appreciation of art as a whole is because we “feel that way”. And, hey!” – she laughed candidly – “I did not expected to find it in a library, that’s why I turned to you. How come you caught it like… nevermind. I sometimes speak one thing and mean it, but upside down.” – she finished, blushing at her own clumsiness. She wanted to take care of what she was really saying… but it is so tiring, while your mind conjures so many other thoughts, like a mage’s Djed, thrown into disarray! And she did not wanted to hear anything about it… how to change the subject, how to change the subject! Mauriel’s well-travelled, she seems interested in what people want to see… else she would not be a bard… There it is. There’s what Elea needs.

“Ever been to Ravok? I spent my whole life there, coming to Lhavit only recently.”

[Mauriel]

It would be an understatement to say that Mauriel was confused by the ramblings of the woman before her. Elea seemed unsure of what to say, as if she had trouble divorcing her thoughts from her speech and stumbled about upon realizing she did not want them to be one and the same, after all. It was a quirk somewhat familiar to the bard, but not very well understood by her. She met people like that, and could recognize it and sometimes predict how they'll act or what they'd say, but she'd never truly gotten to the why behind it.

She was glad when another question was posed, for her musings took her attention a bit away from the flow of the conversation, and she was struggling to continue it. "No, I've only ever lived here in Lhavit." She did not elaborate on the nature of her vague Ethaefal memories, for she was excited about hearing of another place she did not know of. "Where is it? What's the city like? I'd love to hear as much as possible, I'm very interested in such things!"