Day 41, Spring of 514 A.V.
Sal trudged through the street with his hands in his pockets, kicking absentmindedly at piles of ash paper from the previous day's festivities. It had been the Star Festival, a day dedicated to none other than the Star Lady herself, creator and guardian of Lhavit. The piles of ash were from the hundreds of small lanterns that the locals liked to send off into the sky, their cargo all manner of wishes and requests by people who dared to hope. Yesterday the citizens were clad in white and bore crystal masks. Today it was business as normal, no masks to reflect the ambiance of the stars, but either friendly nods or smiles, or just indifference as people went about their business.
Such was the grand scale of the occasion that it left more than a few with a monstrous headache the morning after. Sal could pick out the culprits as they struggled by, squinting in the morning light and looking devoid of appetites. He had had his fair share of overindulgence when it came to drink, but he thanked himself those days were years old as he passed a young man stood bent over, hands on his knees, ready to empty his stomach.
The Star Festival was also an obligatory day off, which meant the day after was particularly busy. The Cosmos Center was no exception, leaving Sal and the other investigators with plenty to do for the day. For Sal, his first stop had been a simple collection of updated tenants for one of the local apartment complexes. The Cosmos Center offered information on housing for new citizens to the city, so a current list of vacancies was of course a must. With that task squared away, he was now heading to a nearby hospital. A less pleasant aspect of keeping track of the populace was to record deaths. But the plus side was of course births, though if Sal was honest, he would have preferred to have avoided the hospital altogether. Not that he lacked sympathy, but he had come to feel a sense of foreboding whenever he was there.
It had begun earlier in the season, another of the 'side effects' to being an Azenth. The first was of course his immunity to fire, which he had discovered after much research at the library. But this, whatever it was, was something quite different. He had read about how the Azenth's purpose was to release tension in the earth, to avoid build up of pressure and bigger catastrophes. But it was also people that they worked with, aiding them to avoid far greater ramifications to ill advised actions by negating the prospect of a 'blow up' before hand. It had sounded a lot like counseling to Sal, only the Azenth approach was not necessarily always with the client's knowledge, if they could be called that.
In any case, a skill the Azenth could deploy was the ability to sense greater emotions in those around them. They had to be grand emotions of course, like love, hate, fear and joy, felt on such a grand scale that perhaps even the more perceptive of people could see it for themselves. But the Azenth could sense it, before a person even spoke. It had come to Sal in confused mutterings at first, like some perverse chorus of singers humming nonsensical tunes that only served to put him ill at ease. With little to go on in terms of a manual for his abilities, those first few days had been a painstaking undertaking, with Sal having to feel his way around for answers that slowly emerged amidst the babble.
He had found a breakthrough quite by accident, finding himself one day sharing a bench in the marketplace with an older man. The fellow had been sat quietly, both hands resting on a gnarly cane while he seemed to stare off into the distance. As Sal sat there, he had felt those voices slowly creeping into his mind. Only, rather than before where the voices seemed to compete for ascendency, they formed into one, single concise voice. It was not so much a voice in that it spoke any one particular language or dialect, but rather it was an essence of words that left an impression. It was something he would not have been able to explain to anyone else, himself included. But on that bench, the clarity of his thoughts was undeniable. He just knew, and felt it in his bones, that the man next to him was suffering some great loss. Not only did Sal suspect it, but part of it settled in on him, as if he somehow shared in that loss, though a filtered version of it. He likened it to one person looking at a tree, and a second looking at that same tree, but through a window on a foggy night. They could both see the tree, only the second one had a much more disfigured image of it.
Having struck up conversation with the old man, Sal had learned that indeed the fellow had lost his wife only days before, and was mourning her loss. In that moment, he had fallen back on his skill as an observer, opting to listen where others might instead try to talk. He had found that often was the case that other people just wanted to talk, or even needed it, when there were great things pressing on their minds. Sure, a few choice words here and there to steer the conversation were necessary, but ultimately a skilled listener could observe the other person, knew when to talk and when to not.
In any case, the encounter had been a milestone for Sal, finally beginning to clutch at some understanding of his ability. He realized trying to explain its function was pointless. But now that he had begun to see its use, it had made things easier. With practice, he was able to discern the voices, or echoes as he preferred to think of them, and figure out which emotions were coming from whom. Furthermore, while he could never be completely without those voices in his head, he had learned to partially mute them. It was now almost white noise if he chose it to be, though every so often something would speak louder than the others, drawing his attention for a moment.
This was the real reason he had wanted to avoid the hospital. Pain and suffering did not need a building to call home. It was there in everyone at some point in their lives, some more than others. But hospitals, those were like staging areas for a myriad of emotions which tended to be the more negative variety. Walking in through the doors, it was like they ascended on him like a tidal wave. No amount of practice or concentration could keep them all at bay. It was the one place in Lhavit where he had little choice but to let them in. To further confound Sal's position, he had of course made the ranks of the Azenth in secret. Nobody in Lhavit knew the truth of it, a fact he wanted to maintain for fear of being ostracized. Not even his good friends had any notion of it. Tongues had a tendency to wag with a little alcohol to lubricate them. Better to keep the number of people who knew to as few as possible, and zero had seemed like a good place to start.
Such was the grand scale of the occasion that it left more than a few with a monstrous headache the morning after. Sal could pick out the culprits as they struggled by, squinting in the morning light and looking devoid of appetites. He had had his fair share of overindulgence when it came to drink, but he thanked himself those days were years old as he passed a young man stood bent over, hands on his knees, ready to empty his stomach.
The Star Festival was also an obligatory day off, which meant the day after was particularly busy. The Cosmos Center was no exception, leaving Sal and the other investigators with plenty to do for the day. For Sal, his first stop had been a simple collection of updated tenants for one of the local apartment complexes. The Cosmos Center offered information on housing for new citizens to the city, so a current list of vacancies was of course a must. With that task squared away, he was now heading to a nearby hospital. A less pleasant aspect of keeping track of the populace was to record deaths. But the plus side was of course births, though if Sal was honest, he would have preferred to have avoided the hospital altogether. Not that he lacked sympathy, but he had come to feel a sense of foreboding whenever he was there.
It had begun earlier in the season, another of the 'side effects' to being an Azenth. The first was of course his immunity to fire, which he had discovered after much research at the library. But this, whatever it was, was something quite different. He had read about how the Azenth's purpose was to release tension in the earth, to avoid build up of pressure and bigger catastrophes. But it was also people that they worked with, aiding them to avoid far greater ramifications to ill advised actions by negating the prospect of a 'blow up' before hand. It had sounded a lot like counseling to Sal, only the Azenth approach was not necessarily always with the client's knowledge, if they could be called that.
In any case, a skill the Azenth could deploy was the ability to sense greater emotions in those around them. They had to be grand emotions of course, like love, hate, fear and joy, felt on such a grand scale that perhaps even the more perceptive of people could see it for themselves. But the Azenth could sense it, before a person even spoke. It had come to Sal in confused mutterings at first, like some perverse chorus of singers humming nonsensical tunes that only served to put him ill at ease. With little to go on in terms of a manual for his abilities, those first few days had been a painstaking undertaking, with Sal having to feel his way around for answers that slowly emerged amidst the babble.
He had found a breakthrough quite by accident, finding himself one day sharing a bench in the marketplace with an older man. The fellow had been sat quietly, both hands resting on a gnarly cane while he seemed to stare off into the distance. As Sal sat there, he had felt those voices slowly creeping into his mind. Only, rather than before where the voices seemed to compete for ascendency, they formed into one, single concise voice. It was not so much a voice in that it spoke any one particular language or dialect, but rather it was an essence of words that left an impression. It was something he would not have been able to explain to anyone else, himself included. But on that bench, the clarity of his thoughts was undeniable. He just knew, and felt it in his bones, that the man next to him was suffering some great loss. Not only did Sal suspect it, but part of it settled in on him, as if he somehow shared in that loss, though a filtered version of it. He likened it to one person looking at a tree, and a second looking at that same tree, but through a window on a foggy night. They could both see the tree, only the second one had a much more disfigured image of it.
Having struck up conversation with the old man, Sal had learned that indeed the fellow had lost his wife only days before, and was mourning her loss. In that moment, he had fallen back on his skill as an observer, opting to listen where others might instead try to talk. He had found that often was the case that other people just wanted to talk, or even needed it, when there were great things pressing on their minds. Sure, a few choice words here and there to steer the conversation were necessary, but ultimately a skilled listener could observe the other person, knew when to talk and when to not.
In any case, the encounter had been a milestone for Sal, finally beginning to clutch at some understanding of his ability. He realized trying to explain its function was pointless. But now that he had begun to see its use, it had made things easier. With practice, he was able to discern the voices, or echoes as he preferred to think of them, and figure out which emotions were coming from whom. Furthermore, while he could never be completely without those voices in his head, he had learned to partially mute them. It was now almost white noise if he chose it to be, though every so often something would speak louder than the others, drawing his attention for a moment.
This was the real reason he had wanted to avoid the hospital. Pain and suffering did not need a building to call home. It was there in everyone at some point in their lives, some more than others. But hospitals, those were like staging areas for a myriad of emotions which tended to be the more negative variety. Walking in through the doors, it was like they ascended on him like a tidal wave. No amount of practice or concentration could keep them all at bay. It was the one place in Lhavit where he had little choice but to let them in. To further confound Sal's position, he had of course made the ranks of the Azenth in secret. Nobody in Lhavit knew the truth of it, a fact he wanted to maintain for fear of being ostracized. Not even his good friends had any notion of it. Tongues had a tendency to wag with a little alcohol to lubricate them. Better to keep the number of people who knew to as few as possible, and zero had seemed like a good place to start.
