Closed [The Rearing Stallion] Eve exalts and condemns

[Tatiam]

Tatiam's modest and silly smile grew at Crypt's words. Being pretty wasn't exactly her goal, nor was becoming mad. But hearing from someone who seemed to have ventured there a little longer, was something the young woman definitively didn't want to miss out on. And just as her evening companion compared their behaviors as children, her mouth opened, meaning to retort before she caught a glint in the man's black eyes. Tatiam's gaze lingered, tasting a hint of his saddened expression, and the wistfulness in his voice. Turning to the barmaid when she served Crypt, the mixed-blood signaled for another beer as well, glancing astray to give a moment to the dark-haired man. When he spoke again, Tatiam listened attentively, feeling a growing interest in those sparse details of his story, layered in time. But she did not expect more; Even a young traveler like herself had a side that she wouldn't show to just about anyone, despite her usual honesty. "Aren't you a curious one...?" she teased playfully, nudging him slightly with her elbow as a mug of fresh ale was placed right before her. She eyed it with consideration, but decided to answer first. "Well I..." she cleared her throat, pondering on something. "I do commissions, in those cases I simply paint what I'm asked. I've had some uh, some little projects of my own over the years, but the one thing I'm trying to achieve is to paint my dreams as best as I can..." Her stare was veiled, at a loss for words as she tried to convey an overwhelming idea, taking a draft of ale to try and clear her mind. "It's weird, but I see a lot of symbols in my dreams, and there's different feelings and emotions that I'd love to reproduce on canvas... It's just really, really hard to recreate." Eyebrows frowning, Tatiam remembered her frustrations from earlier that day, sighing deeply while she wondered if the challenge was realizable, or if she would ever be pleased with the results of her work. After a few more gulps of beer, the woman with light umber skin gazed at Crypt again, her mood lighter as she observed him. "I'm sure you're giving too much credit to the world for who you are..." Pensive, the abstraction made her reflect on the fatalities of her own life, and their consequences. "I'm not saying that what happens to someone won't shape them, but I think... Even with very little choices, different people end up on different paths. I think a person is more than the circumstances they've lived in, more than the choices they've made, but there's no way to know or show what else there could be... We're left to wonder... Until, sometimes, a chance is given."

[Crypt]

"Your dreams... Interesting. It's quite hard to do something like that, since our dreams always fade from our memories after we wake up, leaving only the slightest hint of something beautiful. Trying to express feelings and emotions in painting... If you can achieve it, you should be commended for such an effort. What symbols, if I may be so bold as to ask?" "I am who I am, dear Tatiam..." Crypt contemplated her words for a few seconds, his eyes becoming unfocused, "Perhaps there is something within us all that defines who we are. Or is it false? No one knows. Perhaps the Gods know, but they're not telling us. Would that thing be a soul? But perhaps a soul itself is developed through interacting with the world around us. It isn't inherent in us in the beginning, but it starts to exist and grows as we do more... stuff. Our self - our identity, that is - currently would be the sum total of all that we have experienced and done. We are ourselves because of the myriad influences in our lives so far." "This... this..." Crypt struggled to convey his thoughts with appropriate words, "In the beginning, we were but babies. Not knowing much about anything, and still discovering new things everyday. And the difference between being a sadistic person and a mild-mannered person could be how we were brought up. It's our experiences and deeds that define who we are, not something more... insidious?" OOC NoteRead 'I am a strange loop' by Douglas Hofstader, if you're able to. I've tried to convey one of the main concepts from this book in this post, but I've more or less failed to do so perfectly.

[Tatiam]

OOCWill do, thanks for the reference! I've browsed reviews for a general idea, so far, just so I have a little background for my response Hopefully it's not too far-off. The mixed-blood smiled, treasuring that unique moment. It wasn't every day that she could converse with a fellow artist, and Crypt seemed to appreciate the meaning behind her ambitious concept. Tatiam's mouth opened, eager to answer, only to breathe in, pause, and start over a few seconds later. "Most of them are um... cryptic," she smirked, eyes sparkling with amusement, despite the fact that her wordplay wasn't intended. "I wonder if there are books about dreams... Maybe I should look into it, I never did because I don't want to misinterpret. What if one symbol means more than its normal idea, what if it means something different to me?" She drank from her mug, trying to not rush that precious conversation. "It's so intuitive that I feel some form of education could... somehow, tamper with it... Does it make sense?" Tatiam's pale eyes stared at his intensely, losing her usual confidence for a brief moment. "I mean... all of this, it's probably totally crazy... Not that I care what you think of me but, since you're the first to take so much interest in it... Ah shyke! I'm incorrigible, aren't I?" She did not smile that time, seriousness overcoming even her inebriety. Tatiam sighed and closed her eyes, a tad longer than a blink would take. "Lately, almost all my dreams occur in wintery scenes. White covers everything, almost everything anyway, burying the few naked trees, and even the sky is pale and colorless. It's... desolated. In one of them, I see a raven, or is it a crow? I don't... I don't know. It looks like the sole survivor of my dream, black bird, maybe it's a messenger. It rests atop a large, square gravestone, croaks once or twice, so I get closer... It's not scared, its black beady eyes looking at me, indifferent, it croaks again to get my attention, but it doesn't do anything else. So I look at the worn gray stone,--the only thing around anyway--and remove the snow on it with my hand. I feel carved... writings of sorts. So I rub the surface of the stone again, my fingers following the carved symbols, but I don't know them, they don't mean anything... And it troubles me, why would my mind invent such things?" Without finishing the story of her dream, Tatiam drew a set of runes with her index on the counter, deliberately trying to figure out where she could have seen such symbols before. She spun one of her rings around her finger slowly, thoughtful. "I guess it's one reason that I want to paint them... Hope I'd meet someone that would make sense out of it." The painter listened, then nodded in silence, assenting to Crypt's insightful thoughts. It took her a moment to really acknowledge them, her mind a little foggy. "But, what about the fact that some of us don't fit in, even when we've been taught like every other? Even if we were expected to become something else? Even at a young age, children have a certain character; It was developed with time, but it was there at the beginning, too, like a little bud just waiting to grow and change and evolve... Do you believe that we were all the same at birth?" Tatiam downed a few gulps of beer, once more mulling over what the storyteller had said. "I can't completely disagree, I just... I think there's something else. Some people will abandon at the first sign of failure, and some never cease to fail and try again... That's not a question of what they've been through, what they've experienced exactly... but rather the perception of it. So... all these influences, these experiences, these interactions... They matter, but what matters more is how they are processed. What makes them good or bad, what motivates someone, what kind of feelings are sought. Yes, that's defined partly by the environment where they grew up, but only partly. Call it a soul, call it instinct, call it uniqueness..." Her gaze raised to meet Crypt's dark eyes, looking there for his answer to her thoughts, whether it was disapproval, opposition, agreement, doubt...

[Crypt]

A matching smirk appeared on Crypt's face. "I've only read one in the library of Avanthal, but it was so confusing that I replaced it on the bookshelf after ten pages. It appeared to be an allegory of some sort, and was mainly about the difference between reality and dreams. Symbols may mean different things to us - one book on interpreting dreams may contradict another. I have heard rumors of places where you can learn more about dreams, but I do not know where they are. Even if you were to take instruction, it may not neccessarily mean that it would tamper with the symbols' meaning. The dream still remains the same; with instruction you would learn more about it." Crypt gestured with a finger to a small glass window. "It may be the effect of Winter. I presume this... black bird, is it? This black bird sounds like an omen of Death - the gravestone certainly adds more credibility to that theory. Perhaps the writings on the stone are messages of some sort?" Watching silently as Tatiam formed the shapes of the runes, Crypt frowned, muttering a few indistinct words before resuming the conversation. "Are you well-versed in the Common script? They do not appear to be like that script. Quite similar to... is it the Nader Canoch? I have two books that appear to be written in a similar script, but there are a few distinct differences though. If only I could walk through your dreams... I'd know more." Crypt maintained his silence for a few chimes, pondering Tatiam's words while taking a sip from the mug he held every now and then. "True, true... We cannot be totally identical at birth - there are always babies that are well-behaved, others little monsters... I don't know. I suppose this would be more evidence that we have a soul from birth. What is a soul? Something intangible, the sum of our whole being? Is the soul created during conception? Or is there a fixed number of souls in the beginning - when time began to move, when matter started to exist - and all of us own souls as old as Mizahar itself?"

[Tatiam]

Tatiam nodded, drinking dark ale from her mug as much as she drank the words coming from Crypt's lips. She couldn't shake the lingering impression that conscious knowledge could alter her dreaming experience in the process... Somehow. But the foreigner quelled her doubts. If there were such places, if she heard about their whereabouts, then perhaps she would visit... And see for herself. A light laugh escaped her mouth when Crypt pointed towards a window. Maybe I should've chosen to share another dream... she nodded once more. "Perhaps," answered Tatiam, "This one's been a recurring theme lately... but I've seen that landscape before. Years before. There's a few sceneries like that, that keep coming back. The dreams are different, the angles, the exact location... but it takes place in the same lands." Eyebrows lifted with curiosity, Tatiam turned to her companion of the eve as he weakly uttered gibberish sounds, her look was confused. "Well, I wouldn't say 'well-versed', but I can read..." Utter ignorance could be read on her features when Crypt mentioned 'Nader Canoch', but they soon reveled. Someone that would make sense out of it... she repeated to herself, hardly believing what was happening. Not only did this man seemed to have a clue about the riddles visiting her mind at night, but he looked slightly interested as well. She wanted to finish that accursed painting more than ever. I need to write them down, she realized suddenly, finding worth in the idea of keeping notes of the fading memories. Tatiam suggested, "If we meet again, I could show you my notebook," the thought just formed and improvised into an already existing dream journal. "...or my paintings, obviously." Crypt's elaborate thoughts made her chuckle a bit as she took one of her long braids between her fingers, playing with its tip. "There would never be more souls? If there were too many in this world, some would have to share one...?" she asked, the tone of her voice hinting at disbelief and amusement. "I can't say, Crypt... For my part, I see this as the same that makes us tall or short, tanned or pale, boy or girl... I think part of us was made so; some more intuitive, others very curious, enthusiasts, short-tempered,... It seems natural that a variety of personalities would arise as well, be it from a physical--or tangible--aspect of us, or, something else." "If souls continue to be after the body dies," she proposed, sipping from her mug, "Then I guess there would be a lot of possibilities to consider... You think the Gods could be such... pervasive souls?"

[Crypt]

"The same lands? The same region, you mean? This recurring theme.. I honestly don't know what to make of it. Nader Canoch is the Ancient Tongue, most commonly used in..." Crypt lowered his voice, "Magic. I cannot read the written script, so I can't help you there. Next time you come here, bring your notebook so that I can have a quick look at it. I'll be at the Rearing Stallion most nights, barring any unusual occurrences." Crypt smiled in response to her small jest. "Aye, if that were true, Tatiam, we'd be seeing a lot more couples. And I don't mean just males and females together. I have never heard of any God dying, but that doesn't mean that they cannot suffer death. Who knows?" Crypt shrugged, 'Somewhere out there there may be a dying God, and no one would be there to witness it. Souls may return to new physical bodies after death, but that is but mere conjecture on my part."

[Tatiam]

With a slight nod, the young woman looked up to Crypt. Vast and evolving dreamscapes were part of the deal, imaginary locations that seemed to exist outside of her dreams, or outside of time. "...Magic," she heard, acknowledging silently, not without a hint of surprise. "I will," Tatiam answered, a shy smile on her lips. "Thanks... for helping me, Crypt." I'm glad I met you, she wanted to add, but often than not, Tatiam would let half of her intentions remain thoughts, and nothing more. Perhaps the dark eyed man had won this round, what with all the philosophical chat that ensued, but Tatiam wasn't ready to give up yet. Maybe it was the dark ale, by that time, that affected her judgment; Or maybe it was because she wasn't used to sharing so much about herself. "Well, I think I understand," she sipped from her mug slowly. "It's not like I became who I wanted to be. Granted, I was already a freak to begin with, it wouldn't have changed anything. But you..." Amber eyes considered the man beside her. "You didn't want to become a storyteller?" Again came thoughts that she held back. Tatiam didn't want to ask him to go through dark memories again, despite her growing curiosity. Travels, she thought, remembering the few cities he had mentioned. I should ask him about that next... the tan woman convinced herself, trying to divert her thoughts towards another subject.

[Crypt]

"No problem. A freak? We are all freaks, in one way or another. I myself was one oddball - when I was young, instead of playing with the laddies and lassies in Endrykas, I went out on expeditions with my father. Instead of wrestling with my friends, I learned to survive in the wild." Crypt smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair as he reminisced about his childhood days, raising his mug in a toast to those halcyon days he could only remember dimly. "Well, it wasn't my intention in the first place. I had intended to hunt animals in the wild for my food, maybe do a few odd jobs for people I met on my travels to earn some coin to spend in the cities. But there was one time in Alvadas where some individuals of... Ah... indistinct genders approached me to ask about Endrykas. I regaled them with a nasty encounter I had with some glassbeaks that left me bedridden for two weeks, and they paid me a few mizas. It was then I got the idea of telling stories about what I had done. One thing led to another, and..."Crypt shrugged, "I gradually turned into a storytelling bard. I've travelled the northen parts of Mizahar, walked through a palace of ice, nearly died in a desert underneath a city, and I've ran away from a gigantic petching serpent."

[Tatiam]

A sudden smile appeared on her dark features as Crypt talked of his childhood. "I see nothing weird in that," responded Tatiam candidly, the mental image of a mini-Crypt seeming quite adorable. "Well, it seems like you're not so far from your original plan: travelling, seeing the wilds, living thrilling adventures..." The young woman chuckled. "You have more than a few stories to tell now, and you're probably a lot less lonely than if you were out there hunting." Tatiam felt a little envious, like her life had been a dull one in comparison. "Though I can appreciate the romantic idea of living freely..." She sighed. "I have hoped for that as well; Wander the lands without a necessity for Mizas or the safety of walls, live perhaps a little more dangerously in order to truly appreciate life... There's something really instinctive about it, to me anyway, sometimes it feels like a dozen days in this Hold are worth one outside." After drinking from her mug, pale eyes set on the slightly tanned man, the question voiced merely by her stare before words could utter them. "Where do you plan on going next?"

[Crypt]

"Weird to them, anyway..." The smile that Tatiam gave was startling, but still pleasing to look at. "That is true, come to think of it. I've no shortage of stories to tell. It's lonely out there, but meeting fellow travelers can be quite the experience. I find it therapeutic to spend a night or two outside the cities, since the crowds can be too much for me. But the safety of being within such a city like Syliras cannot be denied. Here, we are safe from bandit attacks. We are safe from wild creatures that may tear us apart and have our innards for a light dinner. But it can be... stifling at times." "I intend to stay in Syliras for the Winter. Perhaps even Spring. After that, I may go off to the Sea for a bit of fresh air, or I might try my luck studying at Zeltiva."