Completed Notes from the Past

[Kynier]

13th of Fall, 518 A.V.

It was approaching midday. Somewhere around the tenth or eleventh bell. Honestly, Kynier didn’t even know nor did he really care. Last night’s activities did not allow him to return home until very late in the night. Still he managed to get up early in order to pass one the results of his efforts to Doler. The crazed wizard had nothing for him to work on, so Kynier returned to the Midnight Gem. Where there was a small crowd of people gathered within the store front. Ebon was shifting around semi frantically between the customers with his assistance. As per their habit, the Kelvic gave Kynier his customary nod of acknowledgement.

The mage climbed the stairs to the Great Room and ventured beyond to the master suite. Kynier removed his boots and hung his cloak up in his wardrobe. After that he collapsed on the bed, lying on his back with his hands over his head. The comfort of being off his feet radiated up his legs. Yet as soon as he was settled, the mage’s eyes widened. “Damn.” His mind felt too alert, too active to allow for even a brief nap to occur. Setting a forearm over his eyes to darken his vision, the mage groaned in annoyance.

Unless he wanted to waste several chimes just to see if his fatigue had a strong enough hold, there was no point in staying in bed. Kynier got up and sat at the edge. The rest of the day was his to do with as he pleased. Part of him wanted to continue experimenting with Projection. The discipline was very intriguing. Of course it had been some time since he last worked on his other disciplines. Spiritism would be one worth expanding on, especially after what happened only days ago. And yet, Kynier couldn’t make a decision on the matter. While his djed pool was deeper than he ever expected it to be, it had been pushed to its limits a lot over the past twenty days. In that regard, he needed rest too.

Something more mindless in application and less physically demanding would be preferred. So Kynier got up and put on a fresh change of clothes. The dirty ones he added to the day’s pile which would be dealt with later. Then he went about the rest of the master suite. Though the windows were closed it almost looked like the windstorm had gotten inside. Papers were strewn about in a disorganized manner. Kynier sorted through each of them and set them where they belonged. Kelski kept her papers and notes in the office of hers downstairs. What few pieces that ever managed to make their way up to the master suite were always given their own pile to be taken down later, after the whole room had been tended to. Today there were no such papers.

Once the desk had been cleared Kynier moved his attention to the shelves next to the desk. The books were all still well organized. But as his eyes fell on Aidren’s book, Kynier felt the need to relocate it. So, he took it up and unlocked the chest at the foot of the bed. Flipping it open he set it in the corner on top. Then the oboe caught his eye. It lay in pressed against the front panel of the chest. A thin layer of dust coating the dark tinted wood. Kynier paused to stare at it. Memories began to stir within, evoking sounds to play in his mind. As though it were made of glass he carefully lifted it out of the chest and closed the lid.

Kynier went to the bath chamber to get a small wash cloth. With it he gently brushed the dust off the instrument’s every surface. Then he set the wash cloth back and went to sit at the edge of the bed. Kynier tried to formulate thoughts but they would not come. And his body felt numb listening to the echoes of a memory. He turned it over in his hands, trying to determine which end was the front. Then he looked at all the buttons and holes and spent a chime figuring out how to place his fingers. Looking at the strangely designed piece of wood at the end, Kynier wrapped his lips around the end of it. He took a deep breath through the nose to fill his lungs before blowing out with his mouth.

The sound of air passing through to make a loud, yet hollow huff was the result of his expended lung capacity. Kynier took his lips away and refilled his lungs. This was not a good idea and apparently would never work. “Why did I bother?” he whispered irritably to himself as he set it on the bed. Only a few ticks later Kynier heard something land on the bed behind him. Turning around he was about to say something scolding, only to stop at the sight of Little Rhaus traversing the surface of the bed towards him. He thought it was going to be Ren in her ocelot form but was surprised by the eight-inch idol being animated.

“Don’t give up because you failed on the first attempt, young mage.” The idol’s voice was calming and filled with encouragement. The small idol, blessed with the persona of a god, came over to Kynier’s side and sat cross-legged on the bed, facing the mage. It took the stringed instrument strapped to it’s back and began plucking gently at the strings. “I’ve never seen you try to play before, young mage.” Soft music filled the room with a somber tone. Little Rhaus looked up at the human in curiosity. “I can tell you how to play it. First I’d like to know its significance to you.”

The music was relaxing despite how the fragment of a god’s power made it match his mood. While normally Little Rhuas was the one to tell a tale during the music, the idol apparently wished to hear a new story. “My mother used to play. She would play or sing to cheer me when I was angry or sad.” The idol stared unblinking at him.

“Tell me of time when she did.”


Word Count: 1,040

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Kynier]

76th of Spring, 502 A.V.

The stone bridge expanded out and away from him. The longest bridge of the city yet the most unused as well. Standing at the edge that divided the bridge from the road, Kynier waivered on his feet. Eyes cast down at that gap in the stone that formed the division. All he needed to do was step over and take a few steps. That’s all. But that little crack may as well have been a canyon like the Aperture that the bridge crossed. Kynier cast his hazel eyes to the other side of the bridge. A place that felt like it was the other side of Mizahar.

“Told you he has no guts!” Ameryn said behind him. Whipping his head around, Kynier gave the older boy a sneer by scrunching his nose. He was no gutless! No matter how much Ameryn and the others joked and laughed at him for it. Kynier turned and took that first step. His heart was racing. The boys behind him all gasped and started muttering things he could not hear. Feet couldn’t stop and just kept taking step after step after step. The shouts of the boys behind him were drowned out as he let out a prolonged yell of an eight-year old’s battle cry. The bridge was his nemesis and he was conquering it!

Little legs took him down half the length of the abandoned bridge before he stopped. Kynier’s cry faded as he looked around at the bridge. The stories of the bridge coming alive and feeding those that crossed it to the monsters of the Aperture suddenly felt very real. Eyes widened as sudden movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention. It was the ninth bell and the shadows were thick along the walls. Kynier’s chest heaved as he looked from one shadow to the next. Fear setting his feet in place. He could hardly see the boys at the end of the bridge that silently watched him.

“Don’t be afraid. Just start walking back if you really want to impress them,” Hashimer said.

Kynier swallowed his saliva and did just that. Spine straight as a stick and eyes still wide, he started walking back towards Ameryn and the others. Nearly three breaths were taken for each step made. Though He said that he shouldn’t be afraid, he still was. What if the monsters got him? The thought alone added some pep to his step. Kynier whimpered softly as he felt some sort of presence behind him. Not daring to look back he simply started walking even faster. It felt as though whatever it was kept up with him. Not able to handle anymore, Kynier started running back. No battle cry from his lungs this time. The bridge was too big to be beaten today.

The boys were all shouting and laughing as Kynier came back to the end of the bridge and back onto the road. Ameryn was laughing the loudest, and that made Kynier mad. “Told you all! Gutless! Barely made it halfway!” The older boy said.

Kynier took a few deep breaths before he yelled in a challenging manner, “Why don’t you cross the bridge then? I at least went out there!”

“Because I’m not a stupid piece of Kalean trash!” Kynier had never been to Kalea, but both his parents were. Kynier snarled and leapt up on Ameryn, hands grabbing as much hair from the bigger boy as he could. He was shouting and pulling as one little fist pounded on the side of Ameryn’s head. The bigger boy grabbed him by the shoulders and they started rolling on the ground.




The music paused as Little Rhaus stared at him. “You actually attacked the bigger boy?” Kynier gazed down on the little statue perplexed. Of course he did. Why would an animated idol of the god of Bards be surprised by this?

“He was insulting my parents. Lots of the other children did too. All of it just because of their accents.” Kynier shook his head of the memory momentarily. When he was young he had a trace of the accent, but it had diminished entirely after leaving Nyka. The mage took up the oboe in his hands again. “How do you play this?” he asked the eight-inch statue. It was something he had once known but the memory was far too old.

“Fold your lips inward like this,” Little Rhaus tucked his lips in to rest in between his teeth. But he was so small Kynier had to lean in and squint to see how he was doing it exactly. Then Kynier mimicked the motion and set his lips around the mouthpiece. “Don’t place too much of the reed in your mouth. Only the tip is necessary. And soak it with your saliva first. Then take a deep breath and blow the air into the mouth piece.” Kynier straightened his posture and pressed down on all the keys. With a breath to fill his lungs he exhaled, cheeks puffing, as a low note of a B-flat warbled out of the oboe. It was a short note as his lungs deflated quickly.

Little Rhaus clapped his small hands. “Good! Good!” For some reason that made Kynier smile. Why, he couldn’t say. When the animated statue was done with his applause he started strumming his instrument again. The tone soft and soothing. “What happened after the fight? Did you win?”




Word Count: 905
Total Count: 1,945

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Kynier]

When he opened the door to get home, Kynier had his head tilted down and tried to keep his face concealed. Once the door was closed he made a path straight for his room which went straight by his papa. The tall man who was neither lean nor bulky was sitting on the sofa and looking at his design journals. “Hello, Papa,” he said as he tried to move past without running. His movement must have been too quick to escape notice, for his papa reached out with a hand to stop him.

“Hold on there, mon son!” He caught Kynier by the arm and guided him backward to be in front of him. Kynier’s head remained titled forward. “Why do you not look at me?” his papa said as he hooked a finger under the boy’s chin. When he lifted Kynier’s head, he saw the fresh bruising on his face. “Oh son!” he said disappointedly. The lilt of his accent growing stronger. Kynier’s eyes did not rise but remained fixated on his papa’s feet. “You have been told repeatedly not to get into fights!”

Hazel eyes wet with pain of his pride as well as his body rose up to meet his father’s green eyes. “Ameryn called us ‘Kalean trash’ because of how you and Mama talk!” he exclaimed with his high child’s pitched voice. Papa clicked is tongue at him several times and shook his head.

“How does fighting him change any of that? People can think whatever they like. You can’t change people’s opinions with fists Kynier. But you can change them with kindness. Treat this Ameryn with sincere kindness and he will have his opinion changed.” That sounded stupid. He’d rather die than treat Ameryn with kindness. He never had treated him with kindness. The only reason he had done that stupid dare was so that he could be liked and have them stop calling him names. And that didn’t work.

His papa stared at him for a long time. Those green eyes looked so deep and seemed to glow when he looked at Kynier like that. Kynier looked down at his papa’s chin, never liking that look in his eyes. After a moment his papa sighed and messed his hair up with a hand. “I know. It’s not what you want to do, mon son. When you’re older, you’ll learn that violence can only solve a problem by creating a new one.” Papa gave him an encouraging squeeze. “Now, go to your room, before your Mama sees you before I can talk to her.” Kynier gave a weak smile and hurried off to his room, closing the door behind him. What his papa said did not make a lot of sense. How could another problem start when you end the first one?

“He is half right. There are those you will want to make friends with. While others won’t be worth it and are best left to their own fates.”

That made sense to the boy. He went to his bed and pulled out the book his parents gave him to study. Quietly he read it for bells before there was a knock on his door. “Yes.” The door opened slowly and his Mama came into the room. Her thick long brown hair was loose around her head and in her hands she carried a cloth and a jar of something. Kynier closed the book and scowled. Mama always had medicines. Many of them were not enjoyable and didn’t feel like they made things better. At he sight of his face she began to fuss over him.

“Mon petit,” she said with an accent thicker than Papa’s. The cloth was scrapped over the surface of the jar’s contents before she began smearing it over his face. Whatever it was stung regardless of how gently she applied it. “Stop moving,” she demanded. Kynier obeyed though his discomfort was all over his face. Afterward she sealed the jar and set both it and the cloth aside. Quietly she sat on the bed beside him and ran her fingers through his hair. Kynier closed his eyes as her fingertips caressed his scalp.

“Why didn’t you and Papa stay in Alvadas?” He asked a bit irritably. “There no one would make fun of us for how we talk. Everyone seems so mean here.” With an arm Mama pulled him closer until he was resting against her side. Head against her bosom she continued to run her fingers through his hair.

“I know, mon petit, I know. There are mean people everywhere though. Nyka is well known for people not harming each other and being safe. You’re Papa and I had to leave Alvadas anyway. So here seemed like the best place to be.” Kynier began to ask about why they had to leave Alvadas when she gently shushed him. Mama always seemed to know how to talk to him and calm him down. Her words were not confusing like Papa’s.

“Hashimer says that no where is safe, and that it’s smart to be stronger to make yourself safe.” Her hands stopped caressing him as she leaned away abruptly.

“What did I tell you about Hashimer?” her tone harsh. “He’s a figment of imagination and you should start ignoring him!” Kynier’s child eyes widened with the hurt from the surprise reprimand. Mama clicked her tongue and stood from the bed. “Wait a chime,” she told him as she left the room. Not a chime later, she had returned and brought her instrument in with her. The dark brown wood with all its strange attachments and holes made wonderful sounds. “No more talk. Let’s play music. Something that brings a smile to everyone’s face. Mama was slowly teaching him some. She sat on the bed and scooted back enough for him to climb into her lap.

Mama gave him the oboe and told him which levers to press and what holes to cover. “This is a C-Sharp. It is a low note.” Kynier wet the reed with his saliva before enveloping it with his lips. With a deep breath he blew the note. Mama sang with it; her contralto voice rang low to match the instrument. As always, Mama was able to sing the note longer than Kynier could play it. Something about Mama’s music never failed to calm him down. Even when she said upsetting things, like, needing to ignore Hashimer. That he wasn’t real, and his words would not be helpful if he really listened to them.
But as they sat there, repeating a single note over and over, it all somehow felt like it would be okay.



Word Count: 1,109
Total Count: 3,053

Credit for the boxcode goes to Luminescence!

[Kynier]

Grades!

Skill Rewards

• Cleaning +1
  Musical Instrument: Oboe +3
  Persuasion +1
  Running +1
  Unarmed Combat +1

Lores Learned

• Alena: Told him to ignore Hashimer
• Alena: Could make everything feel okay with her music
• Oboe: How to blow on the Reed
• Oboe: How to play a C-Sharp
• Persuasion: Can change opinions with kindness
• Regnier: Said, “You can’t change people’s opinions with fists”
• Self: Not Gutless

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