Books, Thoughts and Water (Ifran)

[Eridanus]

oocThis may be inconsistent with how things are underwater, but taking into consideration that this water may or may not be an illusion, I took the liberty to assume that partial rules of being underwater and above-ground co-existed in a harmonious mix for convenience.

Day 49, Winter of 511 AV
Early Evening
The Sunken Conundrum

Out in the open air Leth dominated the sky, but the focus of this story would be indoors, on a curious ethaefal as he entered the strange phenomenon that was Alvadas' library. In his celestial body there was an innate sort of elegance to his every step, action and mannerisms, and though the citizens of Alvadas were used to weird happenings on account of the many unexplainable illusions in the city, they could not help but give this being a second glance. It was an ethereal grace, a beauty that was both terrifyingly otherworldly yet dangerously attractive.

He entered the library, no longer surprised by the state of the building as he calmly stepped into the body of water, gills developing on the side of his neck to allow him to breathe. Nodding briefly to the librarian at the reception counter, he continued walking ahead, passing by several shelves before leaping up. Some of the rules of being underwater held here, and instead of dropping back down due to gravity he floated down slowly in a suspended motion.

Looking upwards and using his arms to push himself up, the ethaefal swam directly upwards until he reached the top of the high bookshelves that lined the ground floor of the library. Using the top of the shelf as a stepping stone, he kicked off again, swimming until he could reach the railings of the second floor, gripping the cool steel bars and allowing himself to float over.

Feet landing on solid ground once more, he walked towards a shelf and brushed his fingers pass several books - bundles of parchment and paper that somehow remained dry and readable despite being in water - and stopping his finger at a thin-looking one. Taking it out, he glanced at the title "Severing of the Soul" by a certain "Bertolt Eluard".

Taking it along with him, he moved to a table in one of the clearings in the second floor to take a seat to read the contents of the thin bundle of pages more comfortably.

[Ifran]

It was too cold to swim in Alvadas, except in the dog days of summer. At least, that was how this desert creature felt. But within the Sunken Conundrum, the illusory water was kept at a habitable temperature, and so Ifran did not mind coming here, breathing like a fish, and living in this strange environment. To be sure, it gave him a better idea of what it must be like to be a Charoda, or even a Konti. He wondered if the fabled Akontaks had gills like their mothers, or breathed solely through the lungs of their fathers. What had started as a trip to research a role for the Crooked Playhouse had become a quiet search for Ionu, one of the reasons he and many people came to Alvadas at all. He had been working diligently at the Crooked Playhouse for months and months, as it was his calling and one the deity of illusions supposedly patronized in the form of its own troupe, the Inverted. Ifran had yet to see hard evidence of their existence, however, much to his quiet dismay. Now he was floating toward a place to read, one hand holding a book open, the other five and his pair of legs easing him through the watery medium. Surely there would be some clue to follow. It seemed that everyone here except Ifran had a connection to Ionu, and this was not to be borne any longer. His own grace had been beaten into him by his master Taharqa over the long years of his apprenticeship and the following years treading the boards of the Royet Theatre. But even so, consumed by the book, he managed to bump into someone. "Oh, pardon." And he truly was embarrassed.

[Eridanus]

Flipping one page, the ethaefal was quite absorbed in the book, for it looked like a third person encounter of a master projectionist - called The Wizard - and a young man who was to be initiated - called The Apprentice. It was a third person description of the event, as if the author was an observer at the side, but it was more than that for it included the emotions and thoughts of the characters present.

Eridanus was reading the part on where The Apprentice had been offered this chance to delve into the arcane, and it was the night before the designated time of initiation where he was racked with many apprehensive thoughts and wondering if he was doing the same thing. The ethaefal could relate quite well for this was exactly how he felt the night before he met Eryss Waldu where he would be initiated into Reimancy. The most nerve-wracking thing was always the wait.

The most interesting thing about this account was not the above features, but the fact that the entire account was written in the eloquent, flowery style of a poet. The lurid adjectives and vivid imagery used hinted at the poet's familiarity with the vantha style of poetry and the result was probably his interpretation of the integrated styles of both standard poetry and vantha flair.

He continued walking, using the corner of his eyes to not bump into walls embarrassingly, engrossed in this unique retelling of this magical ceremony that he was stunned for several instances when he bumped into what seemed to him was a wall.

Looking up in confusion, he almost thought that he had bumped into Karash, the self-righteous and confident eypharian of the Divine Legacy, and inwardly he sighed, wondering how the snooty eight-armed creature would react.

A closer look proved that to be not the case, for this eypharian was clearly younger, and from the look of the book held in one hand it would not be presumptuous to say that both of them had been doing the exact same thing before bumping into each other quite comically - engrossed in their respective tales.

Eri chuckled, partly at his own thoughts and also to lighten the mood, "Looks like putting two bookworms in the same place isn't such a great idea, eh?"

The eypharian apologized in an embarrassed manner, and Eri waved it off dismissively, "I apologize as well, my fellow bibliophile. Though I suppose the main thing to blame would be these books, or perhaps our innate love for the contents said books hold, or perhaps it was the fault of the gods for putting these traits into us that cause us to act this way?"

[Ifran]

Ifran smiled, glad not to have given offense. He was far from home, with few allies, and had little desire to make enemies. Some people could become enemies with little prompting. He nodded acknowledgement of the Ethaefal's jest, adding, "Or whoever filled this place with the water that is not water, allowing us to drift about in a manner to which we are not used." Somehow he managed to execute an elegant sort of bow in the low-gravity world within the library, but then he had been trained to grace since his extreme youth. He was pleased to see another Ethaefal, though he was worried about Corvus, whom he had dragged from the surf outside Alvadas, clothed and fed and kept alive. He did not like it when people disappeared; in Ahnatep, that generally meant they were dead. But an Ethaefal had an aesthetically pleasing form granted by their deity, and so that put them close enough to his social circle to please him. There were few enough Eypharians in Alvadas as it was. "I am Ifran of the House of the North Winds, though that means little here. I hope I have not disturbed weighty thoughts. I would not forgive myself."

[Eridanus]

The member of the proud eight-armed race bowed elegantly, though slightly awkward due to this unfamiliarity with the altered gravity in the environment. It showed of the years of training the eypharian had gone through to perfect every mannerism, every action to exude this amount of elegance. Unlike them, the star-fallen children had a form of celestial glamour that naturally exuded such grace, and he appreciated the respect accorded to him. He bowed back, an action that in his mortal form would probably have been crude and quick but in his ethaefal form it translated to an action that poets could write about just to espouse the surreal beauty of his physical form.

"Well met, Ifran of the House of North Winds. Most people know me as Eridanus, technically Son of Leth, but I don't even know if he knows I'm down here," He ended with a slightly bitter note, though he quickly stopped himself from dwelling further on this issue, switching up his tone again to a more cheery one. "No weighty thoughts, merely enjoying this little gem I found. You should really read it after I'm done - and I'll probably be done soon for I admit to being a voracious reader. A poetic account of a magical ceremony, yet nuanced with the emotions and thoughts of both characters in such a detailed manner one would wonder if the author was present at the actual event, observing both physically and somehow reading the minds of both."

He did not use technical lingo like "initiation" or even the branch of magic itself "projection" for he wanted to keep his language accessible since he had no way of knowing if the eypharian knew magic. He did not know much about the race, other than them having many arms and each having mannerisms and grace befitting nobility. It was probably his chance to find out more about their kind and to see how connected with magic they were.

Unlike Sunberth where he had to keep magic a secret for fear of being stoned, Alvadas was a much more civilized city, and general notions were more open. After all, magic in the form of illusions were part of everyday life.

[Ifran]

"Well met, Master Eridanus of the Ukalas," he said, according the fallen avatar that much respect despite his inability to return to that august place from whence he came. Ifran was sure that the Ukalas were wonderful, and knew that his ultimate grandfather, the god of the dried up river, delighted there, but the people he had left behind were content with their desert paradise. "If you recommend it, I shall surely read it. I cannot call any magic my own save what we perform on the stage of the Crooked Playhouse, but whereas some of my compatriots are blessed with Ionu's own knack for illusion, I must rely upon the artifice of stagecraft. But perhaps I will learn something someday; there is always something new to learn, else I would not have left Ahnatep at all. I think I miss home most now that it is Winter." He was not adverse to learning magic, of course; if he was going to learn it, it were best he learned it in Alvadas. Then, when he returned to Ahnatep, nobody would have a clue. Secret weapons might come in handy when climbing to the top of the political ladder.

[Eridanus]

"An artiste of theater, then? I sometimes watch the plays there when boredom strikes, and have always left entertained and inspired."

He thought about a play that he watched a few seasons ago510AV about a man who, due to a curse as a result from his excessive capacity for greed, grew extra arms. It had been so realistic that Eri could only attribute it to the use of morphing magic somehow, possibly with the help of glyphed scrolls. Even illusions could not have been fooled his senses like that, for Eri was a highly observant person.

However, now that he thought about it the facial features of that actor was pretty similar to this eypharian here, even without the makeup.

"Humour me, Ifran, but did you perform lead in a play I watched a few seasons ago called 'The Curse of the Extra Arms?'"

Gesturing forward to the table in the clearing, the vantha would then invite the eypharian to continue their conversation while walking, "Let us find a more comfortable place instead of standing awkwardly in front of the shelves and inconveniently blocking others. Tell me, what 'weighty thoughts' were on your mind that caused you to be as engrossed as I was?"

[Ifran]

"I am glad you have enjoyed the Playhouse," he said. "Ah, I have only been with the theater since this Spring, but we perform in repertory, so I have led The Curse of the Extra Arms. But not the performance you saw, I suppose. The previous actor had to have illusory arms added. Mine merely had to be revealed." He followed the ethaefal's lead to someplace more comfortable and out of the way. Considering how much he should say, he only paused briefly before answering. "One of the reasons I came to Alvadas was much the same as many: to meet Ionu. I had thought the Playhouse would be the perfect place to start. Master Fabel has been granted Ionu's favor. The deity has an acting troupe, the Inverted, who have long done Ionu's work with Ionu's power. But I have not seen the Inverted. I have not met Ionu. And so, not wanting to despair, I have begun to search here in the library."

[Eridanus]

"It is not my first time here, and every time I try to get a glimpse of some sort of this elusive Ionu, but every time I am foiled. Alas!" Eridanus sighed theatrically. His main reason for coming here was not to see the god of course, but it was one of the 'good-to-haves' in his to-do list. He had done a bit of research and study into Ionu and illusions in a hope of trying to understand the insanity of Alvadas. It seemed random, but he was pretty sure there was some sort of order, or formula, to this randomness.

"The acting troupe is not the Inverted? You have confused me a little, or perhaps my understanding is insufficient," Eridanus asked, for he found a logical gap here. If Ifran had been with the acting troupe, and the acting troupe was called the Inverted, how could he have not met the Inverted?

[Ifran]

"No, the company of the Crooked Playhouse is not the Inverted." He paused then, however, to wonder if they might in fact be the Inverted, which would mean his entire year -- well, almost a year -- had been a great big game of fucking with him. Sadly, he would not put it past Fabel and several of the others. "Well," he vacillated, "I do not think that they are the Inverted. Certainly they have not brought me before Ionu to be marked. We rely on our skills and those who do have some connection with illusions. "In any case, I allow I may not see through their illusions despite my years at the craft of theater. For the time being I labor to assimilate their version of the art and sometimes look for clues to meeting the elusive one and the elusive theater. I hope I make contact soon, though. Alvadas is far too cold for civilized people to live."