Secrets Spilled (The Vestibule)

[Thomas Cosa]

64th of Winter, 512

Thomas hugged himself tightly, his hand rubbing against his shoulders, trying to warm himself. The towering walls of the Vestibule guarded well against the wandering dangers of the Testing Grounds, and well enough against the biting winds of winter, but it was winter nonetheless; and unless Thomas cared enough to dive deeper within the Citadel, back to the caverns where the cold couldn't reach him, he'd need to learn to cope.

Or to ignore it, as he was currently trying to do. There were more important things to be had, to discover, and luckily, the one that had been bothering the animator for seasons was finally standing right before him; not that it had ever moved.

The TAR stood as proudly as ever, still as impressive as it had been all those seasons ago, but now out of commission. One of the many of the golems found on the Citadel, not many of the designs had impressed the animator as the TAR had -- after all, it appeared to be one of the few golems he had seen to actually use magic, as it's name had suggested, something only a master at his craft could achieve.

And then, despite it's seemingly flawless execution of Thomas' own apprenticeship, it had apparently shut down.

Or, it had been shut down.

"But why?" He asked, to no one in particular, reaching out to touch the cold marble. It was a wonder of animation, no doubt, but why would they, whoever they were, choose to shut it down in favor of the judgement? Why?

[Zandelia]

Zandelia entered the threshold of the Citadel and could only admit astonishment and admiration for the construction, it was masterfully done on a scale that she had not seen in her lifetime. There had been other places and other wonders, a certain mirror in Nyka being one of them. The city of Lhavit at night had actually brought a bloody tear to her dead eye. Sahove, though, was something altogether different. She was not a mason but she fancied that such artwork of stone had not been seen since the days of the great empires. Everyone knew the stories but here a portion of them came to life before her gaze. Her walk slowed and she ignored the crowds around her.

If I could have a house like this it’d never be destroyed, never be infiltrated. It would stand, a bastion of greatness forevermore. I would happily kill for a place such as this she thought as she became aware that she was gawping.

She shook her head at her own carelessness in a new home and smile faintly, perhaps it was true that one never truly became wise – even in advancing years. She was not a young woman and had learnt caution on streets where it was suicide not to pursue it and yet she was a naïve girl for a few moments. She wandered onwards, taking in as much as was possible and keeping her ears open for anything of note. There were Nuit about, clearly busy and involved in their workings. She chose not to interrupt them, not until she knew more of the rules of the city.

“Seek out a firm foundation first, build the roots and the branches take care of themselves” she affirmed her methods to her as a way of refocusing.

She hefted her packs upon her shoulder and paced to one side, she needed her back to some stone whilst she wondered what to do. At least then she could only be assaulted from one direction and would see them coming. There was much to study she found. A central…kiosk was all she could think of it as though the size was too large, stood centrally and she noted many were approaching wit sheaves of parchment and walking away with items of varying typology. A warehouse perhaps, or a market stall equivalent. As she was pondering the comings and goings, making a remembrance that many seemed to be young and not radiating as much self-importance as the Nuit, she saw something of more immediate interest.

What in the name of Akajia is that?! was all her mind could come up with.

She slowly made her way towards it, puzzling out its providence and wondering if it were one of the legendary golems but of a differing type. There was a man standing before it, arms wrapped around his torso. She paused just behind him and listened. There were few words, more of a rhetorical question than anything else. Her head tilted to one side and she looked beyond him and saw little signs of activity in what he was contemplating.

“Why? Why does the sun rise? Why do people get enslaved? Why are you hugging yourself?” she asked in her own style of echo, “a why usually indicated motive. What is it?” she asked, her innate curiosity easily getting the better of her in this place.

“Perhaps I can help? Sometimes it is easier to puzzle things out when you have someone to talk to – even if they don’t understand what you are saying” she finished with an attempted disarming smile.

If I can learn something in my first Bell here, make a connection…well I’d call that a damned success! she assigned herself the goals privately.

[Mirage]

As Thomas' hand touched the TAR his vision would go white. He fell backwards in time, the strings of chavi all around whipping past until he stood once more beside the TAR. Now, however, the edges of his vision were slightly blurred. The Vestibule was dark, night clearly having taken hold of this place. Soft whispers came from the other side of the TAR, the sound of metal against metal, and then the familiar sound of the TAR's voice filling the chamber, "Authorization code 7729 accepted. Initiation total system shut down. Resting cycle commending." A whirl of gears which until now might not have been noticed at all suddenly became starkly missed as the hall for the first time in years fell completely silent. The glowing eyes of the golem were no more. Two figures would be seen walking from the TAR then, heading back into the Citadel proper. One would turn, looking back for the briefest moment, but just long enough for the sight of a silver chain around his neck to be seen before he once more faced forward. Then, just as quickly as the vision had come it began to crumble, and Thomas was thrown back to reality, no more than a tick having passed by during the whole experience. OOCThis is a random intervention, please continue your posting order as normal

[Thomas Cosa]

Strings of memory sprouted from his outstretched hand, dancing, spiraling across the cold air, unseen by all beside Thomas; the sudden pull of his gnosis caught the pulser off guard, a small gasp escaping him quite unceremoniously, one he would deny if prompted to explain. He had a rather cold reputation to uphold, and more so, secrets that needed to stay buried.

The present world seemingly collapse, quickly overtaken by the treasure keep of memories, only to be rebuilt by whatever memory he had fallen into; gone were the overcast skies of winter's day, replaced by a clear, and welcoming warm of either a late spring or early summer's night. The quite of the Vestibule now perverted by unintelligible whispers. Metal scraped against metal, and a hard androgynous voice called out in response to an unheard order:

"Authorization code 7729 accepted. Initiation total system shut down. Resting cycle commending."

Realizing immediately where he was, and more importantly, what he was Seeing -- the shut down of the TAR system, or at least, the activation of it's rest cycle. A million and more questions popped inside his head, only to be immediately answered by the tugging of uncountable number of bright threads pulling at him like a puppet, signaling his time's end. Thomas fought, pulling back as he caught the glimpse of a shadowed face turning around to look at him, "Not me...the golem," he realized, the glint of a silver chain shining in a pathetic mimicry of summer's stars.

And that he was back.

"I'm sorry?" Thomas asked pointedly, the seer still very dazed from his the forced vision. "Puzzle? What puzzle?" His dumb expression of before twisting into a scowl, as if somehow, the strange woman had managed to offend him with her presence. His eyes flickered to the striking scar that cut through her left eye, his mind only somewhat consciously considering her face. "And because I'm trying to warm myself. If you hadn't noticed, it's a bit cold," he retorted, not kindly, "But you seem to have dressed warmly enough, I suppose, so you're the smarter one of us two" he smirked, as if the very idea of suggesting anyone was smarter than he was some kind of sarcastic joke.

"And...you're a new arrival," he stated, not asking, as his eyes feel onto ringless hands -- or at least of any rings he knew to be associated with the CItadel, "So, come on, what do you specialize in, who are you hoping to work with?" He asked, words probing for some kind of reaction -- although, for what kind, Thomas hadn't the nearest clue.

"Authorization code 7729...and a silver chain," he thought, remembering his vision, mindlessly fingering the jointed necklace around his neck as he considering once again the woman before him -- was there a way he could use her? And more importantly, who could he ask about the TAR without causing too many ripples?

[Zandelia]

The response was not what was expected, not when she had been seeking to try and help him if at all possible. For a moment she idly wondered if it was worth her very existence to impart the traditional Sunberthian greeting to those possessed of self-importance. The need flickered up inside her as if she were a young woman before the lessons of her age snuffed it out to naught but a pile of embers. No, he was not worth her life but he could yet still be worth her time. She merely looked at him, her right eyebrow raised slightly.

“I make it my business to be prepared for travelling, as would anyone as old and haggardly wise as myself,” she informed him, her own tone matching his, “the cold kills more people these days than weapons it seems” she continued.

Match the tone, maintain eye contact. Throw up a mirror and see if they like the reflection. Often they realize their actions and become more malleable in their contrition she remembered the words from so many years past.

She looked at him now more closely, her gaze sweeping across him for a moment and observing some small portion of facts that could be used to assess him further. The black eyes stared out of deep sockets, the hair just as dark cresting pale skin in a monochrome display. The stance was confident and he was taller than herself, limb longer and weaker by contrast. He seemed a counterpoint to Zandelia’s short, solid and more colourful physical natures. His clothing was elegant and denoted a semblance of wealth, though it could have been a show of course. She smirked back at him with her considerably fuller lips.

“I am a new, old arrival then!” she turned his words upon her tongue, “and I know Auristics. As for who I should be apprenticed to…why would a new arrival know who was best? They would need guidance surely?” she retorted in an aloof manner.

Not a lie, but not the truth either. I know a bit of magic and it has served me will. As to specialize…perhaps soon. If it pays she tucked the information away for pursuit…and apprenticeship.

“I specialize in finding things, seeing things, hearing things. You’d be surprised what I can do with my talent,” she smirked again, “which is why I wondered what you were doing and what this thing was” she indicated the construct behind him now.

“Curiosity runs strongly within me. Call it a fault, or a boon if it makes you happier. Either way. The phrase ‘is there anything I can help with’ comes to mind but if you like you can have my jacket instead for warmth?”

“I make it a point of mine to get to know people, you never know when they can be...helpful”

Test their desires, give them ten things to think about at once but never tell them too much. Or at least learn more than they do in the exchange. Just enough to be curious in return. Then the marriage of mutual curiosity can develop. If it does then you know you chose the right person the words echoed inside her again.

"In that spirit might I ask you your name at least?"

[Thomas Cosa]

He allowed her a small smile, finding himself more comfortable confronted by her mirrored imitation. But, he had always been more at ease around those most similar to him -- her initial introduction, that coupled with the given vision *Thank the Seer*, had caught him unawares and awkwardly disorientated. Not the type of introduction he particularly enjoyed, but whoever she was, she had managed to keep his interest.

"An old, new arrival?" Thomas echoed, "I suppose that was an attempted play at your own age?" He winked playfully, although the expression he wore was one of condescension instead of mischief, "Or have you been here before?" He wondered, wondering if he'd managed to ask the question he'd been meaning to without actually saying anything -- something the more influential nuits were disgustingly adept, and a quality the pulser was hoping to self-foster.

Thomas was pleasantly, hopefully not too overtly, surprised at her mention of the seeing magic -- something he'd been hoping to find someone more experienced in than himself. The pulser mage had noticed his power growing over the last seasons, things that had gone previously unnoticed and misinterpreted in auras now very frighteningly clear; he would be needing a tutor soon, if only to improve his abilities relatively safely.

"True enough, the more people you know, the more likely you'll find someone useful," he paused pointedly, sighing in a huff, "Of course, that makes you all the more vulnerable. You'd be just as likely to be used, as to use anyone, and more importantly, you're very likely to fall into someone else's debt," Thomas smirked, "Especially here, mind you."

"And as for introductions," he began, tapping softly on the segmented collar he wore on his neck, "Stranger, if you would, please."

The metallic necklace shifted at the command, twisting around his pale flesh, shiny threadlike needles pressing against his neck as the golem pushed away from his set position to face the woman; four gleaming gems of blue, green, red, and purple shining splendidly.

"You have the distinct honor of addressing Wizard Thomas Cosa of Sahova, Animator and Ambassador underneath the Archwizard Mashaen."

"Thank you, Stranger," He smiled, obviously pleased by his own introduction that one in particular -- he'd installed several introduction, each ready and prepared for a wizard of a different station; he'd assumed the strange woman to be completely new, and therefore an apprentice, and so, his introduction had been a bit more self important than had she'd been a master, or a fellow wizard under a master of equal importance of his own.

"And we share that, a curious nature; and I agree. It can be very much a boon or a curse depending on the situation," He countered, licking his lips as they were already beginning to chap from the dry cold, "So, I've satisfied you," the mage paused, allowing that phrase to be taken however, "And now I'm waiting. Who are you? And more importantly, why should I trust you to share in this particular puzzle?."

[Zandelia]

Things were going well with her first meeting on the isle of the dead, though she was as yet unsure as to how well they would end up being resolved to at the close of her interactions. She was no greedy, she would settle for obtaining a name and a face with perhaps a little portion of a positive impression. Of such things foundations could be sculpted and most things worth cultivating took time. She was not prepared for the manner in which she received the name, however, her eyes widening in surprise as the thing around the man’s neck animated itself and performed a unique parroting of information. She could only thank the Goddess that her mouth didn’t open as her jaw had clenched itself shut.

I’d hate to be taken for the fool but it seems that I have been all the same. Still…perhaps it is something he relishes she told herself as she noted his smug look of superiority.

“Impressive…” she managed to force out of her mouth once the initial shock had flared and subsided, “I have never met an ambassador before. Such titles! I have met someone of import in my first greeting here” she recovered quickly though the smoothness of her speech was missing from the beginning of her sentences.

“Dasoma Zanneli,” she introduced herself as one of her alias’ as she was not ready for her true name to be known in Sahova yet, “but you have me at a disadvantage. I possess no such titles. Perhaps in time I shall be given such favours. Yes…thank you…Stranger” she inclined her head slightly.

His words were intertwined, creating both cause and effect in such a way as to suggest that he knew how to play his games well enough. Clearly he had succeeded in impressing many if he was of an important rank – though how important she truly had little inkling. He could have been stretching the truth ever so slightly but she had nothing with which to prove it and so accepted his words for what they were. She smiled then, she was beginning to like this man.

“Users use and are used, but not necessarily for the use to which they are put to,” she returned with her own verbal confusion. It sounded cryptic but was far from it upon analysis. Pretty words stated in an airy tone to suggest the very thought was inconsequential, “the trick is to not mind being used at all”

She paused for a few moments, taking the opportunity to step forwards so that she was beside Thomas now, looking at the construct he had been examining. She reasoned that it must be one of the fabled Golem. She could see little else that it might be. If she was wrong she was sure he would correct her in his own desire to seem possessed of greater intelligence.

“Broken windows,” she opened with, glancing it him to out of her periphery vision to try and catch any fleeting reactions, “sometimes it can all be about a broken window with the glass on the outside. The initial conclusion would be that something was thrown through it from inside, a fit of rage regretted perhaps”

“But what if the window was broken inwards by a robber who then threw the glass outside to distort the evidence?,” she placed her hand upon the construct before her then, patting it once before withdrawing, “I assume from your earlier question that it is not meant to be broken?” the question was rhetorical, the implication of her words suggestive.

She had nothing but intuition go think upon, the fact that he had been frustrated and the first question to the world in general she had heard from him had made her think that whatever had happened to the...thing...was not normal. In her world that either meant an unexpected problem or an attempt at a knife to the spine. This was not her world, however, so she had little idea of what had truly happened.

When learning one starts from themselves, their own ideas and perspectives. This is only natural. The magic comes when you learn enough of someone else - somewhere else - that you can do the thinking for it. It is a long road though Zandelia...a long road filled with potholes, intersections and broken bridges. Sometimes making mistakes is the best way to find that path less travelled...the one that gets you there faster. Sometimes

“As to trust? Why would I answer when you would not believe me anyway? Trust is learnt, never given due to pretty words. I can do many things, I am old and have learnt not to be choosy in my tasks. You need a guard, I can be a guard. A teacher, watcher, listener, hunter I have been in my lifetime. Explorer occasionally” she turned to him then.

“No one wise should trust me, and a good thing too! Such people who do are foolish waste of sentience. Most of the time people have used me because they trust others less. Or perhaps I can just be someone for you to bandy words with? It matters little if it means I don’t end up smacking my head upon stone through boredom” she smirked then.

“It works both ways though, why would I trust you? You have pretty titles and obvious skill and yet you cannot fix this,” she pointed to what she thought was a Golem, “perhaps I have chosen the wrong man to speak to?”

The challenge was there now and she hoped that he rose to it. Arrogance was a temperamental beast at best but he seemed the sort to try and prove himself over casual dismissal for no valid reason beyond a word game.
Perhaps he would laugh, or rage and rant. Either way she had learnt something where before she had known nothing.

[Thomas Cosa]

"Clever." Thomas replied, turning back to the dysfunctional golem. Sabotage had been the word waiting on his lips, pounced and at the ready to be released to out into the world, heard by any and all willing; but that would have been very rash, and extremely stupid. He supposed had his assumptions reached the ears of the Council, or perhaps even the ArchWizard, or the duo Masters of Lab 15, they would want evidence, and proof showing exactly who and what and why. Or, at the very least, some hint of a supposed who, and a explanation as to the why.

But what if it hadn't been sabotage? Not in the sense of his first thoughts anyway. The spy had a point, it could have easily been an inside job. There weren't any visible marks, no signs attack on the TAR, not that any wizard worth the title would be so obvious. The most telling sign was the fact that there hadn't been any alarm, or any kind of defense set off by the golem itself; had something like that happened, surely Lab 15 would have been the first to hear about it? The golems were Sahova's first line of defense, they greeted each and every ship, catered to the varying wizard's of the isle -- if anything happened to any golem, they were always sent to the cavernous labs for correction.

That TAR hadn't been, but why? And more importantly, was anyone else asking the same questions?

The pulser's eyes narrowed at the not-so-veiled insult, although truthfully it had been more of a challenge to his ego than anything said from malice, "True, but pretty titles usually carry a hefty weight behind them," he replied coldly, a small idea beginning to form, "But here's an idea, a simple trust exercise," Thomas suggested, his face placid. He fought the instinct to smile, something that would have been intended to calm, but in a worrisome environment such as the isle, it might just as easily spook Dasoma.

"If you would, please follow me outside of the Vestibule," he asked, motioning for her to follow him past the blockades and statues into the Testing grounds. Somewhere, hopefully, where no one could hear them talk.

[Zandelia]

Clever? Perhaps it was, but it was only a logical extension of certain given conditions of thought. Are those in Sahova not possessed of such processes of thought? If not then all the better she wondered to herself privately, erring on the side of caution and instead opting to believe that perhaps he just wanted something to say.

Whatever he had found of interest in her words was certainly not a direct consequence though. The way in which Thomas spent a few moments in rumination told her enough to know that the idea had been in his mind previous to her words and she had merely facilitated a crystallizing. She stood in silence, waiting patiently for what would come next. Thomas had not dismissed her and that in itself was a positive sign in her endeavour with him. She doubted that he would trust her, probably never trust her. However that was to the good, it was always good to have intelligence allies – and enemies. They kept one sharp as sure as a whetstone was married to the blade.

Her gaze took in the construct before her once more, its nature – if her suspicions were correct – were fascinating. She would never claim to be an expert in such things but even to her singular eye it was plain that nothing had damaged it. No hacked out scores were evident, no black ash from fire or anything close to approaching the refuse of incendiary incidents. She wondered how such a magically crafted thing, a mythological creature hoary with suspicious age to most of the world, could break. Didn’t they carry on forever, after all. According to legend, that was. Perhaps she would learn differently. Her thoughts were dragged back at Thomas’ words.

“Exercise? I’m not sure I am dressed for a run, nor are you my type for a tumble. Sorry to disappoint” she responded, her tongue taking over her mind for a moment but at least in a humorous fashion.

Then the invitation came and she had to control her features very carefully to prevent the inward grin from blossoming across her face like a cat with cream. Whatever she had been deemed clever enough to become involved in was of small consequence to her – a job was a job. No, the true success was the fact that she had managed to be allowed to the gaming table. Now the fun could begin and if she played skilfully enough she might even gain something from it. Yes…she was owed an idiotic grin…but later, much later.

“Lead and I shall follow,” she stated simply as she gathered up her packs once more and glanced around what she now knew was named the Vestibule, “but I do not promise that I will follow forever” she finished, the meaning clear enough that an understanding would be gleaned.

I follow because I choose to, not because I can be forced to obey. If this came appears to be too dicey then I can walk away. At least that’s how I hope it will be

As she followed him she could see scattered glances towards them, searching glances perhaps. Thomas was clearly an important man and it would only be natural for people to wonder why he had chosen to associate with a new arrival. A well weathered and ragtag one at that too, she would have to choose her clothing with more care once she had settled somewhat.

Let us see where this dance leads

[Thomas Cosa]

The wind howled, tearing at the two mercilessly. Outside of the Vestibule, nothing stood against Zulrav's and Morwen's moods, aside from their clothes and skin.

"So, if you haven't guessed at it yet, the Citadel is constantly under supervision," Thomas confessed, looking as uncomfortable as ever, a pathetically faded, and very thin, cotton cloak his only defense against the biting wind, "So here we are, risking life and limb, all for the sake of a little privacy," he smiled, his voice caring the levity of a joke between long friend, or he so he tried; truthfully, the Testing Grounds made the pulser extremely uneasy -- all he had to defend himself against the untold nightmares and fail beasts that hunted the semi-abandoned lands was, well, hoping the strange woman wouldn't be able to outrun him. And that whatever would come after them would happily stop with one human entree, instead of two.

Not surprisingly, Thomas made sure to have his back facing the Citadel, and Dasoma would have hers facing the Testing Grounds. His worth, after all, had already been proven to the Citadel, her's hadn't, so he couldn't exactly be blamed for letting her die, could he?

"More importantly, I'm risking my everything asking you this," the mage clarified, stealing glances over Dasoma's shoulder at every chance, "My work, my station, and even my loyalties will be put up to question if you were right to think of this as an inside job," he paused, his body visibly shaking -- was it the nerves, or was it just the cold? "So I'm going to do something very stupid. If only to ensure your loyalty in this project."

He sighed heavily, obviously conflicted between regret and concern and a million other emotions as he quickly slid of one of his leather gloves. "This," he began, a black lily caught in mid bloom shimmered delicately against the back of his hand, "Is my insurance, so to speak," Thomas grimaced slightly, not enjoying speaking of his mark in such a way, "I can see the histories of any living person, including their past emotions and thoughts. A very useful tool, especially to one working in...finding things, or perhaps people," Thomas smirked, pride swelling his ego. It had been years since Syliras, where he had allowed himself to wear the Seer's mark with pride. How long had it been since he had so openly wore his mark? Since Mura?

Quickly, he covered his mark, "What I'm proposing, Dasoma, is a partnership. Whether you meant to or not, you've impressed me," he smiled, a small attempt at comfort, "In exchange for your silence about my...particular talents, and my interest in the TAR, I will allow you use of any resource I possess, contacts, financial resources, magic," he shrugged, his smile wavering, "I need to know you can keep this conversation, and any more between us secret. What do you say?"

Perhaps it had been a foolish act, but it showed how desperate he was to find his answers; more importantly, Thomas hoped he conveyed how much he needed Dasoma to work alongside him, as a partner. And perhaps even more so, the extent of which he could use his mark against her should she refuse. His mother had always told him it was easier to catch more flies with honey, and Sahova had taught him easy it was to convey a threat unsaid -- he was being nice, outwardly, but Dasoma was a smart girl, she would figure out what could happen should she deny him.