Wouldn't Drink That If I Were You...

[Indyrio]

30th Day of Spring, 512 AV Location: The Sunken Conundrum A city fraught with peculiarity, and yet Indyrio was still struggling to find a decent book of all things. The woeful torpor in each step he took, much as it appeared he was suffering from stiff joints, was due to a child like naiveté of the city he‘d once relished in calling his future home. Now marked by a slowly souring ambivalence, the tormented violets of his eyes wandered from storefront to storefront, reading signs that in no way advertised the service they were providing. Perhaps in some perverse way their owners thought that was clever. To make matters worse, the sky hung heavy above with slate gray clouds, the cackle of thunder a low groan pounding against the horizon and hollow to his ears. Indyrio found himself dismally hoping it would be rain to fall, and not one of Ionu’s distorted contrivances. Water he could handle, falling hunks of salted pork he could not. But good fortune was a dish served queer with a side of crazy in this town, and Indyrio found his pace hastening towards a shelter that would accommodate him. While never sure where he truly fit in the puzzle, much to Ionu’s amusement no doubt, for the moment Indyrio felt more misplaced than seemed customary. Having picked up his pace from a hurried step to the beginnings of a run, his footsteps echoed desolately against the huddled walls of buildings he‘d lost all interest in, a slender shadow escaping down an emptying street as doors closed to his left and right. Heading down a gradual decline around a sharp bend, Indyrio compensated for his speed by making a jagged wide arc around the corner, and was met with an unfamiliar oddity. A single gravel path was beset on each side by the skeleton fingers of a hedge leading up to a towering face of fluted columns and strangely lit windows. The double doors were two solid pieces of Osage adorned by gilded handles, their carvings styled with open books and loose scrolls fluttering haphazardly about. If it hadn’t been for a pressing sense of fear, Indyrio may have smiled, his pace slowing to a crawl as his feet crunched against the chalky gravel, breath heavy between his moisture deprived lips. Taking three marbled stairs he hadn’t cared to notice before, the soft pastels of his eyes weighed the door heavily before reaching out to pry the right side open. Normally such a sight would have surprised him, but his mind had slowly begun to expect the unexpected in this labyrinthine city of riddles, and was at least gladdened when he did not immediately become doused with water. Reaching his slender fingers out tentatively at first, he pressed them to the flat liquid surface and was impressed by its lack of resistance, small ripples emanating from the point of contact. The water was no colder than the temperature of his skin, and when he pulled it back out he wasn’t entirely sure any of the moisture had left with him. An uncommitted grunt seemed to be his only response to that, and with but the slightest of shrugs he plunged the rest of his body in, polite enough to close the door behind him. Thinking it was no more than a portal of water through which he’d step out the other side, a mild panic rose in his chest before sight caught hold of the sign placed so conveniently for fools like him. Trust became but the most minor of opposing forces, his nostrils flaring as he took a single breath, and then another. A strange discomfort gathered around his ribcage at first, his hands prying apart the ties of his jerkin followed by the strings of his tunic. Peeling the fabric apart from his flesh revealed a mysterious set of gills that had formed between bone dense ridges. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered to himself, momentarily stricken by the fact that he could be heard though the sound seemed not to carry far, small pockets of air scurrying between fabric and flesh. Taking a moment to redress his exposed chest, he floated in weightlessness with a perceptible delight, a smile spreading from ear to ear. The first strokes he took to align himself were awkward at first, eyes searching across the great expanse of open water to another patron swimming between shelves. Taking note of her movements, Indyrio attempted to mimic them as they were perceived, a kick of his legs accompanied by a more awkward spreading of his arms. By no means the expert, he at least found movement capable, and decided it better that he push away from objects to gain momentum rather than suffer the wounds from a tarnished pride.

[Seven Xu]

What began as a comforting patter had turned to an angry hiss as rain pounded the library’s ceiling. The murky sky rumbled, only taking pause to pitch veins of light whose lives could be measured in an eye blink. However fleeting, the entire library would roar to life in those seconds; blue-white light bathed old shelves, older books, stray bubbles, and motes like dust in the sun. Those too faint of heart to leave the relative safety of the Sunken Conundrum filled the hall with a chorus of hushed gasps each time the heavy-bellied clouds bore down above their heads, too close for comfort.

The storm’s most recent crash-bang had nearly brought Seven out of his skin. After a brief shoulder check affirmed his pride, the halfblood resigned to his waif-thin book—little more than a notepad—with a set of bone white fingers tangled around the short silver chain on his neck. The library was overrun with those with a love for knowledge, others with a hatred for storms, and no doubt a mixture of the two.

Seven was forced to make his spot on the floor. The almanac was stretched over his lap; his fingers toyed with his prized crossed-dagger pendant; his head was down, wisps of alabaster refusing to lay flat against his scalp; his jacket had been discarded in favor of the faded red button-up beneath, so that the unnerving gashes in his rib cage would allow him breath.

For a long time, Seven sat engrossed in study. People came and left, a stubborn storm lingered over his head, and the pages of his book began to favor one side. Finally, he let the remaining pages of the almanac escape his thumb before closing it entirely.

Collisions weren’t uncommon at the Sunken Conundrum, often caused by ill judgment or absentmindedness—the heedless daydreamer was a dangerous obstacle. As such, Seven only managed to yelp his surprise when he unwittingly tossed himself in the path of the library’s newest patron.

[Indyrio]

A cerulean beam of filtered light rippled over the strong contour of his jaw and passed through the murk of his eyes whose color had been sharply muted. The water around him trembled when a gash of lightning was proceeded by the deafening clap of thunder seconds later. The hollow blast was much alike to pressing one’s ear against the dense hide of a beating drum. But Indyrio would gladly suffer this over the chaos that reigned outside. Nudging his toes gently against a hardwood floor, he was further spirited away from the door and into the great hall. Books and scrolls rested amidst darkly lit shelves, Indyrio’s attention driven to them in a speechless fascination. A matter of finding a place to start became his biggest obstacle, lost to the whim of his heart while drifting heedlessly in the open. Lightly placing a palm over the worrisome area where gills had formed, Indyrio was unexpectedly jolted to the side as a dense object collided with his shoulder. Startled more by the other’s yelp than anything else, Indyrio spun abruptly and felt his elbow dislodge something from the other’s hand. The binding unfurled in the somber glow of light, pages fluttering open as they wilted slowly to each side, momentarily revealing their contents. It was an embarrassment he shared by the growing whites of his eyes, arm straining to pull it back before it was too late. Finding purchase on the ground with a single foot, he launched himself after it quickly, reclaiming it not a moment later as he breathed a sigh of relief. Turning the sparse few contents until they came to a close, his eyes glazed over the title wrought along the cover. His uncle had possessed such a book, though admittedly Indyrio knew next to nothing about the subject matter other than the fact that it dealt with stars. Given the size of the text, he didn’t seem to be missing out on a vast wealth of knowledge. Slowly floating down next to the one he’d carelessly brushed with, Indyrio looked up and noticed who he was dealing with for the very first time. Small of build with hair as white as undecorated porcelain, it was the incarnadine eyes which seemed the most unsettling thing about him. “My apologies,” he began gently in the sort of way a man is hardly bothered by much in life, a sheepish smile softening his rough edges. “I believe this belongs to you.” He offered the book back between a relaxed thumb and forefinger, eyes entranced more with the other’s own than with the object he held.

[Seven Xu]

“Well, no, it doesn’t actually,” he managed an uneven smile, “but thank you.”

Seven was the sort that could draw a gaze as easily as he could turn it away. His skin was as fair as his hair, which upon closer inspection, was a sort of pale blond rather than the white-silver that came with age; there was a cool intelligence beyond the feral red that stared, unblinking, at the man opposite; his features—most notably his hands—were small, almost feminine in their daintiness. He was of the same sylphlike stock that defined his ancestors, but his blood was diluted and it left him as a shadow of what could have been.

Comfort faded when a pause grew long. Seven broke the mutual stare with a curt nod, then left the man with another murmured word of gratitude.

But it did not end there.

Chimes passed. A storm raged beyond indelible stone walls, content to stay above their heads while it carried out its tantrum. Patrons soon found that braving the wind and rain was less frustrating than trying to read over the din of thunder and the relentless patter of rain on a vaulted rooftop. Seven’s tenacity rivaled that of the storm; he was settled in a leather wingback chair as comfortably as one could beneath water when his dark gaze rose again, feeling another set of eyes boring holes in the top of his head.

It was him. Standing not five paces away was the figure of the man he has assaulted with his carelessness some time ago, and he seemed more intent on stealing sideward glances than losing himself in a book. Seven licked his lips, as if they were dry.

“It isn’t letting up, is it?” He paused, rolled his stare ceilingward, and stifled a grin. “I hope the place doesn’t flood.”

[Indyrio]

It was a smile that made the small hairs upon the nape of his neck quiver, though not from any sense of exhilaration he received from being in the man’s company. This particular feeling arose from the cornerstone of fear on the branch of inexperience. It had left Indyrio uncharacteristically quiet, though not without a reciprocating smile to at least placate his sense of cordiality. Seconds slipped by as the two drifted apart in more than just words, the water’s gentle current slowly separating them until all that remained was an unpleasant gap of social incompetence. Thankfully it wasn‘t too long before one of them found the words to sever the stagnating gap. With a simple-serving nod, Indyrio muttered a word of acknowledgement before turning away. Another drum of thunder crashed in the background, reverberating against everything. For a while he drifted between unending stacks, attempting to put the last experience behind and letting his eyes peruse the works of men and women far more experienced in diction than he. While not expecting to find the revealing mysteries of Flux written candidly on one of the leather bound tomes, he was hopeful that there was at least some glimmer of its knowledge left behind by those long dead. Kalea had been a region known for its teachings, after all. Floating towards the end of a long shelf, his eyes locked onto a symbol that kindled a state of recognition. Reaching out, he fed the hundred or so paged volume into the palm of his hand. Laced upon its cover was the symbol he’d long been in search of, a simple design that looked to be no more than design to the untrained eye. Leafing quickly through yellowed pages, he felt his heart sink when its contents became little more than historical retelling--enough to keep the scholar in him intrigued--of little use when it came to worldly experience. Considering whether to place the book back on the shelf upon sealing its opposite bound end, movement from his periphery caught enough of his attention to become distracted by it. It was him again, the strange creature who had bounded into him before. This time he seemed more at ease, tethered to a chair that had Indyrio wondering as to whether it was comfortable or not. He must have caught him staring, for when his gaze returned to the other’s dark red eyes, they were looking carefully back into his own. Deciding to himself that this time things would be different, he laughed honestly when the joke was made. “At least it seems to be thinning out the herds,” his eyes gazing around behind him as though to affirm the remark. “Can’t get a decent lick of reading done if everyone’s bumping into each other.” A flashing grin was all that was needed to let it be known that his tone was jocular, a lighthearted breath hidden behind a sheet of fabric. Kicking a leg to better position himself for a handshake, Indyrio extended his callused open palm for the other to take. “Name’s Indyrio. Friends call me Indy or Dyrio, though I’m not entirely sure why.”

[Seven Xu]

“Seven,” he replied, palming Indyrio’s proffered hand. Little was explained in that lopsided simper, but when his hand fell away, he managed a short laugh. His chin dipped affably. “My friends call me—well, Seven. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Indyrio.”

The miserable storm continued to pelt the library’s walls with frozen rain and howling wind. Then the thunder rolled over them, and Seven would swear the ground had opened and swallowed them hole had he not known any better. Still, his nostrils flared and his pupils flooded over the red that hugged them. Pale lashes fluttered.

“Gods, you’d think that a storm would pass by now.” The japery had gone from his tone, and the smile from his face. If only he could melt into the water itself, hole away somewhere, sleep until the terrible noise and blinding light had passed. But why? It posed no threat—unless it caught the library aflame, and illusory water was as appealing to fire as air. He flexed his burned toes against their hard cage of a leather boot.

Change the subject, fool. “What were you reading?” His hand produced the same book he’d always had, as if to affirm his curiosity. “I thought I’d brush up on a few movements, myself. It’s hard to tell a false sky from the real one here—at least, when you’re as stupid to it as I am. I’m sure if I studied harder, I’d know.”

He tried to laugh again, but the sentiment died in his belly and he sighed.