Fantasy The Shadow of The Seal

[Wyll]

The Fire

Navon
Hara

The spar had left a low hum of excitement vibrating through Navon's body. He slowly let Kygo's hand go, now that he was certain that he wasn't going to lose his neck. The recruit claimed that the strike wouldn't have landed, but Navon wasn't looking to take such chances. At least, it helped that the recruit had at least intended not to cause harm - it was a good feeling, knowing that your trainee doesn't want to take your head off.

Navon pats Kygo on the head. To say that Navon was smiling would be to call a single raindrop a storm. However, that was more than most people were able to pull out of the pessimistic veteran. Navon saw the promise Kygo had from he day they were paired together and today was the first time it looked like Kygo saw it as well.

"You fought well," he started. This time - done with the fight - his voice was gentler, soft even. However, the depth of his voice still caused his words to leave his lips with a distinct hum to them. "You delivered an attack that only last week, you would have had no ability to defend. So, yes, you win."

His eyes suddenly narrow, the proud look that they had carried only moments before was now washed by one of scrutiny as Navon's eyes scan Kygo. "But why did you win? I was bigger, stronger, you were only slightly faster, we had the same moves. So tell me, what was your advantage?"

The harshness had returned to Navon's voice, as if he had simply been plating at good cop when he congratulated Kygo on the win, and now bad cop was back. Everything about his countenance right now was strict and stern, as if he were an overbearing light shining down on Kygo watching his every move.

Marquis crossed his arms and looked at Kygo expectantly. For him, simply winning - simply surbibinh- wasn' enough. But you needed to be able to articulate the circumstances that led to your win so that you can recreate that win over and over again. And - which is more important - so that somebody doesn't claim the same victory over you.

"Victory alone is not enough, Kygo. For victory means nothing if you just happen to chance upon it. You must create your own victory." He grabbed Kygo's hand and held it up. "With this," then poked the center of Kygo's head "this," and, finally, placed a strong, warm hand on Kygo's chest, over his heart, "and this. You must first see it in your mind. You must know yourself and know your opponent and find the victory in that knowledge." His voice had returned to a gentler tone but there was still some bite in it. "Once you can see it, you must believe it - give no room for doubt or fear. For fear slows you down and doubt leads to chaos and one's own demise. Finally," he said, going back to holding Kygo's hands. "You must work out every second of that victory with these two hands, with your body. Until every fiber of your being is involved in the fight, you have created no victory, only chanced upon it. And chance...luck...is a fickle thing."

His eyes were narrowed to daggers the entire time he spoke, glaring harshly at Kygo. That look in his eyes made it clear that this was about as serious a warning as any other Navon had ever given. You carry far too much promise. You, especially, I cannot allow to become complacent. He was aware that the last thing the recruit wanted was a lesson after wining the fight, but Navon was going to give it anyway and offered no apologies for that.

Mentions: Kygo ( Shadow )

 

[Wyll]

The Adder

Seer
(NPC)

As the Echobinder was placed in her hands, she felt a hunger within it. Though the book lay still within her hands, she could sense something within it, crashing waves in a pestilent storn, looking for drifters to devour. Whatever power was taking shelter within the book was ancient and dark. Yet, at its core...elementary.

She deliberately lowered her guard, daring it to step into the playground of her mind. She knew well enough that there was no threat and was fascinated by what its touch would feel like, what she could learn about the book and its connection to Quill. In her head, she contained all the secrets of The Seal and some which even the organisation didn't know. Her mind was a treasure trove of information - a buffet for something such as the Echobinder. Seer almost felt pity for it as it opened its pages to her, taking the bait.

She felt a haze begin to fill her mind, like a pungent, sickening, dark-tinted fog pouring in over the face of the deep. It attempted to overwhelm her, to paralyse her mind, obscure the creature that lurked within the wisps.

The fog did nothing for Seer though. Even with her guard down, her mind was simply too vast for the fog to completely fill. At best, what was meant to be an overwhelming, uncontested darkness, thinned out to be only slightly thicker than the smoke from a campfire. Unpleasant, to be sure, but ultimately uninspiring. To be perfectly honest, a part of her was disappointed that this was all the Echobinder had to give.

The entity that moved within what was supposed to be a thick fog now, without cover, was clearly visible to Seer's mind. A venomous smile spread across her lips. What Quill saw as Seer placing a finger on a page was actually Seer grabbing a hold of the entity.

It writhed beneath her grip, the ink on the page beginning to move frantically as if pleading for escape. This is how you overwhelm a mind, little one. Her gaze was sickeningly sweet as she stormed into the depths of the Echobinder with her own mind.

The tables turned now, whatever lay under the surface of the Echobinder was now surrounded by the thick, unbreathable, scalding white mist of Seer's mind. Panicking, it began to thrash more within her grip, enough that it finally broke free, fleeing Seer's mind and shutting her out of it. Or, at least, trying to.

Seer looked up innocently at Quill's question and offered a gentle smile. "Who's to say?" Seer cooed. "I can only guess that it did not enjoy what it saw in my mind. After all, you have such a beautiful mind, Quill dear. I do not know that the same can be said for me."

She handed the Echobinder back to Quill and felt the tangible wave of relief that washed over the hidden entity at finally being out of Seer's grasp and within the hands of a more manageable mind. However, unbeknownst to the Echobinder, Seer had done what she needed - left a little bit of herself hidden beneath its surface, monitoring it, studying it, learning its ways. In due time, the parasite she planted would take effect. But not quite yet. There were still far too many unknowns.

She began to walk off, once again seeming to float over the library floor. A few steps away, she paused. "Quill, dear?" she called, looking back over her shoulders at the silver-haired lorekeeper. "Do let me know if the insect begins to bother you." She gave a playful wink before turning around and continuing to walk, seemingly fading to nothingness as she got lost within the crowd of people milling about the library floor.

Mentions: Quill ( Klown )

 

[Klown]

Location: Head Library
Interactions: Jason DeathUnchained
Mentions: Seer

The mind, Quill surmised, could not be a thing of beauty. Everything the fae had witnessed—unpleasantly and unwillingly—of human innards argued it vehemently. People’s insides were red, pulpy, and contrary to some beliefs, all the same. If Quill’s mind were a painting, she imagined it a barren waste. An ocean with no water, simply the cavernous floor beneath it. What made it whole was distilled until nothing but empty, ungraspable vapor remained. To her, it was hideous. For it to be called beautiful opposed to Seer’s was an injustice.

Seer's was surely ripe with veins of pouring wisdom. Bleeding with the world's best kept secrets and knowledge yet discovered. It was looming like the Abong Peaks. Rich like the Doran Woodlands. As untouchable as Aya. It was beauty and terror intertwined in an irreplicable dance.

Quill did not speak her contradiction, however. Voicing her disagreement with Seer once in a day was generous. She needn’t push her luck, nor did she feel compelled to.

“Thank you, mistress.” She said instead, looking at the Echobinder with new eyes. Curious, poring, and afraid. Its heft pulled her hands further. Its leather appeared foreign. Faced with it now, Quill saw a visage, an entity. Something that had shrunk from the pillar’s finger like a scuttling rat. The Echobinder, as evidenced seconds ago, was in fact capable of having audacity.

An insect. That’s what the Echobinder was to Seer. Something squashed under a boot, something swatted with a palm in air. Quill’s head bowed reverently as Seer departed, her body tilted at a perfect angle and maintained even long after the crowd at swallowed Seer. Beyond the curtain of her hair, Quill stared at the Echobinder as if waiting for it to sprout mouths and eyes and confess to its latest assault on Quill’s memory. But in her hands, it was just a book.

Paper had once been alive as trees. Leather had once been alive as animals. Had their collective consciousness assembled into the Echobinder’s identity? But if that were the case, shouldn’t it be true of every book under the sun?

Quill’s legs moved like the aimless automatic pattern of a wind-up toy. Her body was a mechanism of its own, meanwhile her thoughts inundated her attention. Within her eyes existed only the Echobinder. Small, wisp like thorns poked alongside curious buds. Had she known this before and forgotten? Had the Echobinder made her forget?

Her path is halted with the abrupt thud of cold metal against her forehead, staggering her footfalls and forcing her consciousness to mind her physical form.

Quill looked up, then kept looking up until her neck was craned and face nearly pointed at the ceiling, but instead of ceiling there was Jason Elvish.

The friend. Saphielle’s and Quill’s, apparently. She was slightly startled by the sudden appearance of his looming figure. Then, her eyes met with massive hands gently carrying a vase with beautiful flowers.

“Hello, Sir El—Jason.” The familiarity didn’t feel right on her tongue, but it was insisted that she use his name as ostensible close friends. “Typically, your hands are meant to hold books when in the library, not flowers.” Her mind had hopped from one question to another, she rubbed the center of her impacted forehead, gaze still trained on the flowers. Her tail betrays the blandness of her expression, swaying behind her. “They are beautiful, though.” Fueled by her questions, her feet wished to circle around Jason and view the flowers from every angle. She kept them firmly planted, but did find herself inquiring, “What is the purpose of them here?”​

 

[CloudySkyLoftyMoon]

Îstoire – The Glutton

The Library | Kidem

Mentions: Guille, Aricia, Scarlett
| Tags: lyn. CrimsonInk

Îstoire could feel it—shadows coalescing around them in a way that was decidedly claustrophobic. He should’ve known better, him and his thrice damned tongue—he’d jinxed them!

In the dead silence each faint step was as if not on the floor but on the strings of Îstoire’s heart. The merman dared not turn to confront the pillar who’d simply manifested. Foolish Aricia, run? How could they possibly run? How could they even entertain the thought of running?

Îstoire desperately tried to erase any such though from his mind lest she—

“I believe not.”

Relief washed over the Merman, the faint rattle of his scales against the metal of his wheelchair ceasing as he calmed with near-instantaneous effect.

Oh thank GOD,

It was just Guille.

Phew!

Fingers closed around the hem of his robe, shaking them lightly to air out the cold sweat that had drenched it back. He’d really dodged a bullet with that one! Îstoire listened to Guille’s beratings with the renewed positivity of a man who’d been given a new lease on life; a man who’d felt death breath down his back and yet lived to tell the tale. No…not death, Guille was death, and there were fates far worse.

Once Guille had departed, Îstoire turned his attention to Scarlett and offered a commiserating nod.

”If you bring me the cleaning tools I can animate them; that one’s an easy charm. As for the rest…”

He truly did sympathize and furthermore, it was his handiwork that caused the mess in the first place; however, while he was more than willing to help Scarlett clean up the scattered tea leaves, any further would probably run contrary to Guille’s wishes.

”Best not to push out luck.”

”Say...”

Îstoire suddenly begun, speaking in slow, measured, almost conspiratorial tone.

”What do you think about replacing the floors and corridors of the library with sea-lanes? Wouldn't they be so much easier to clean?”

 

[Mypilot]

i am bound by the seal

Else frowned at Cresley’s, the gesture more of a partial downturn of their lips. They had the distinct feeling that they were missing an undercurrent of tone, as was often the case, but it simply wasn’t worth the time to dig into why. They opened their mouth to reply to Cresley as the other “thought” of where to go, and then they were being snatched along like an errant stray towards the doors.

“Oh,” they said flatly, out loud.

Brown eyes narrowed in on the point of contact, a grimace flickering on Else’s face that made their canines protrude a little more than normal, before it was all swept away back into a neutral expression. Obvious distaste was, after all, distasteful.

“I wonder if perhaps there might be an easier way to leave a building than this,” Else said aloud, although they found their words fell on deaf ears. Sighing, they let themselves be dragged along like a flag in the breeze.

Outside, the sun immediately warmed Else’s skin, the woody brown tones of their form seeming to brighten in daylight. Else internally, however, was less inclined to brighten. The sun was a necessity in life, but much like the precious paper that lined their favourite books, Else felt their mind was bleached by its burning rays. Books did not need the sun. Books did not want the sun. Else wanted to be like the books.

As they reached the bottom and halted all momentum, Else came to a rigid standstill beside Cresley. They were before a fork in the path, the two distinct opposites and seemingly leading in unique directions. At Cresley’s prompting, the memory of Kumi resurfaced.

“I recall more rain,” Else replied flatly, “and certainly more offerings of illegal substances.” They sighed, brushing their vine-like hair out of their face. Squinting at the options, Else did not really need to consider the choice. They simply wanted to see if there was anything worth noting of the dark alley before they stepped in it.

“Out of the sun then. Please.” They added the last word as an afterthought, recalling their manners. “We certainly don’t need to be window shopping.” They sent a woody stare down the sunlit road, shops bustling with activity.

The dark alleyway was cast in inviting shadows, and the rats that scurried across meant there was at least less foot traffic. A few doors edged the alleyway, likely back entrances to the storefronts on the opposite side. It should be a nice, quick walk to wherever Cresley was taking them, and then they could get to business. Else was already imagining the notes they would take, thinking of how best to outline a future mission plan.

They were halfway towards the entrance before they remembered to wait for Cresley, and looked to see if the other was alongside. They waved a hand forward, like a steward bringing in an esteemed guest. “If I recall correctly, there’s a lovely view of the town square this way as well. Always enjoyable to pass through.” They tilted their head as they recalled the scenic view, and how it was a good reminder of the commonfolk their organization fought in the shadows for.

else

LOCATION: Outside the Library

INTERACTIONS: Cresley

MENTIONS: -

TAGS: hery

code by valen t.

 

[DeathUnchained]

Jason Elvesh​

Location: Head Library
Mentions: Quill, Seer, Saphielle
Interactions: Quill

Jason was keeping himself as hidden as he could. Of course he also focused on the flowers in his hand. The half giant taking great care to keep the vase and flowers in the best condition he could. Of course this distracted him from his viewing, so he didn't notice the very person he was hoping to talk to bumping into him. Eventually his eyes fell on her and his heart immediately soared. Then abruptly shattered as he remembered to keep her condition in mind.

The giant steeled himself and smiled a sweet, caring smile to the fae, getting as low as he could to help her up "My apologies. Sometimes I forget how intrusive my size can be." His touch on her forehead as he inspected to ensure her health was so soft. Something entirely unexpected from a brute of his stature. His smile with her was always so soft and inviting. A glimmer of affection in a dark and terrifying reality. Yet the reason behind it was only known to a select few. Or maybe more than a few. He didn't care to keep track "Forgive me. I will do better to keep my witts about me in the future."

There were clearly butterflies flying about around Jason as he gazed at her. Memories of those sweet times of long walks. Exploring the wonders of nature and talking from dawn till dusk. The way her flowers bloomed around him in a way he personally had not seen happen with any other person. This feeling of course shrouded in the shadows of knowing that this was not the same girl. She had no memory of him. That damned book. That damned Ecobinder stole it all. A parasite was all that book was and he wished he could free her from it, but as much as he hated it, he didn't want her to feel cursed. Thus, the flowers.

"Well, yes. Normally books are the purpose of the library. However, these are special." He reached his hand around and finally opened them. Presenting the lillies to her. The white and red case complimented the bouquet. As did the wild weeds he found for accent flowers. The lillies were pristine. Pure white flowers with crimson red veins flowing through them. Each one so bright and wonderfully pristine "Remember last time we talked? You were looking at Vampire Lillies in book."

He removed his metal gauntlet, biting open his finger a bit and dripping a droplet of his blood in the soil. The veins in the petals pulsed as the soaked up the sweet red liquid, allowing them to witness as his blood flowed through the veins, renewing their color and the plants life. His visor covered eyes looked to her, still wearing that loving smile he had just for her "You see it occured to me that these flowers are much like your Ecobinder. They both suck the life from unwilling things to survive. Take what is most precious to their victim in order to thrive."

Jason gently moves her hands together and places the vase of flowers in her hands with a smile "Yet these flowers are also proof that such a relationship is not all bad. It can be a beautiful and extraordinary thing. So, maybe not all relationships like this are bad. So long as they are viewed from the correct perspective."

He once again speaks so softly to her. So sweet with his words and so careful with his touch. His hand moves back to her forehead "Are you sure you're alright? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I thought I hurt you."

 

[Shadow]

"I have failed you in this labyrinth of my mind..."

Kygo

The Shadow

• .
• .

• .
• .

location

Lasalle Library, Training Room

mentions

...

interactions

Navon
( Wyll )

In Al-Lotoy, cold and claustrophobic tunnels had dominated his daily life, their stench of decay overpowering, nauseating, and relentless.
There would be weeks at a time when Kygo was confined within those stony halls, until the sun and wind became like phantoms in his memory.

"You fought well."

The quiet tone of Navon's voice was more than enough to draw up his gratitude, but the words themselves created a warmth inside his chest that eclipsed any comfort the sunshine used to bring after his underground confinements.
Kygo's reaction was subdued, but his eyes shone a bit brighter and the usual tension eased from his shoulders.

When he glanced up and caught the proud look on Navon's face, he couldn't even bring himself to resent getting his head patted.
There was something familiar in the gesture, anyway. A reminder of times even further in his past than the catacombs...it felt so distant now.

The nostalgic feeling lasted only a moment, but Kygo was still careful to control his expression and avoid betraying how many emotions had arisen from that simple exchange.
The shift in Navon's demeanor helped to usher away the distracting swirl of feelings, leaving behind the natural edge of stubbornness within him. The desire to prove himself resurfaced, too, in spite of his initial excitement about earning the win.

"What was your advantage?"

"I was more familiar with the fighting style,"

Kygo answered softly, the confidence in his tone slightly undermined by the narrowed focus of his eyes on Navon's face, as if he would be able to tell whether his response was satisfactory or not based on Navon's expression alone.

"I used reckless moves to gain the upper hand, which risked my defenses,"

he added reluctantly, remembering a past lecture he had gotten from Navon on that very subject.
In the intensity of the sparring match, he hadn't considered any risk to himself (Navon wasn't actually going to hurt him, after all), so now he had to accept that another lecture was probably incoming.

"Victory alone is not enough, Kygo. You must create your own victory."

Kygo was attempting to internalize the advice when his attention was suddenly diverted by the feeling of Navon's grip closing over his hand. His body immediately tensed and it took all his effort to resist recoiling from the contact as his mind switched quickly, instinctively, into alarmed uncertainty.

Was Navon trying to intimidate him?

It didn't feel that way, but...would he let go if Kygo tried to pull away?

There was a strong urge to dodge Navon's other hand - prodding his forehead, then coming to rest against his chest - but the deep baritone of Navon's voice was reverberating around them and gradually banishing all other sounds to the edges of the room, more effective at shielding Kygo from his world of constant noise than anything he had experienced before.
His eyes widened slightly at the effect, and he tried to guess at it's cause, glancing between their clasped hands, Navon's face, and the firm pressure from the hand on his chest.

Fight with my heart?

"How do I fight with my heart?"

The question fell from him on a quiet exhale, putting his confusion into words without exactly expecting an answer to follow.

Somehow, his own breathing and heartbeat had fallen into tempo with Navon's again, much like the start of their sparring match, and Kygo couldn't help but relax into the grasp on his hands then: despite the way his awareness was forced toward the rushing flow of blood through Navon's veins, the swell and contraction of his lungs, the vibration of his vocal cords, the steady rhythm of his pulse. He'd always hated those sounds in the past when physical contact had forced them into him, but he was beginning to question if Navon was part merfolk.
...how else could his touch, his rhythm, be so bearable?

When he looked up again, his attention was recaptured by the steely glare that met his eyes, and he looped Navon's words through his mind again to ensure he hadn't missed anything.

Luck...
Kygo frowned and nodded, trying to grasp the seriousness of the lesson.
He didn't like to think that his past successes had relied on luck, or twists of fate, but he could at least recognize that he didn't plan much either; often expecting things to work out by sheer force of will instead.

It was clear that Navon wouldn't be impressed by that approach, but still...

"Sounds are too unpredictable. I've tried, but I can't always tell when I'm getting overwhelmed until it's too late, then I need to rely on instinct...luck."

Kygo spoke with barely enough emphasis to make the words audible, as the uncomfortable sense of vulnerability pushed his gaze away from those searching eyes. He rarely liked to mention his hearing, but he felt the need to offer his reasoning to avoid seeming obstinate. And, perhaps, Navon could understand him: better than anyone from the thieves' guild had, anyway.

He couldn't spare another thought for why that mattered to him...being understood.
Surely that should be just as irrelevant as friendships, in this line of work?

"Anyway, I don't get scared in combat. It's when I'm most at ease,"

he said, slipping closer to a regular speaking volume as the lull in sounds gave him extra patience for hearing his own voice.

There was a slight edge of defiance in his tone, too, but it wasn't from bravado.
Fear was usually a perfect stranger to him during missions; whenever retreating or going feral were options, at least.

coded by reveriee.

 

[Wyll]

The Fire

Navon
Hara

Navon had his eyes narrowed as he listened to Kygo's words. The reasoning made sense but was altogether flawed. The very things he had highlighted as a weakness were things he should be counting toward his strengths. The comment of never getting scared in combat did tickle Navon's curiosity though. Ordinarily, he would have let it slide, but there was something else Kygo had said earlier that tied directly into it. And yes, there were other lessons to be taught and another Agent might have chosen to focus on those other things. Not Navon though. His priorities lay elsewhere.

"How do you fight with your heart?" he questioned. It was as if he was half baffled and half disappointed by the question; the blend of emotions dancing with on his eyebrows. However, whatever disappointment Navon felt was more targetted toward himself than it was at Kygo. If he had failed to teach Kygo this, he had failed to teach kygo the most important thing about a fight. "Everybody fights with their heart, Kygo. Most people just do not know that they are doing it. It makes them weak. Makes you weak." He knew the new agent would not enjoy being called weak, but truth had to remain as truth whether it was liked or not.

Navon took a couple steps back, drawing both blades and taking a deep breath. "You claim to feel no fear in combat. Good." As he breathed out, the aura around his entire body changed. What was once a fire that cast its light and heat in all directions was now a piercing spotlight directed solely at Kygo. When he spoke again, his voice carried a new depth to it, a menacing challenge laced between every syllable. "But what about doubt?"

Navon breathed in again, this breath bigger, fuller, richer than the last. And when he breathed out, electricity cracked across his body, like several tiny sparks shooting off from his body. His eyelids fell, cutting out all unnecessary information from his sight, leaving Kygo as the only thing he could see, his eyes boring into Kygo's very essence. His typical golden eyes now crackled with blue electricity running through them that made the already piercing eyes seem to glow. His breathing slowed to the point where it could barely be seen or heard, as if his body had gone perfectly still. So still, in fact, that despite the overwhelming aura exuding from every bore along his skin, careless eyes could miss him entirely. That is because the intensity of his gaze, the alertness of his hearing, the prickling of his scent had all dialed in on a singular focus: Kygo. This was no longer a mentor training a mentee. This was predator staring down prey. Each glance as sharp, precise and intentional as a swing from his dagger - as if merely looking was enough to be an attack.

As lightning arced from one blade to the other and the sound of sizzling air filled the space around him, Navon took a step toward Kygo. Though the footfall itself was silent, the step was heavy with purpose and unmistakable intent: killing Kygo. There was no mercy to be found in his eyes; no hope to be found in his countenance. The only thing he offered was the chocking, fetid scent of bloodlust. He raised his blade up slowly, pointing it directly at Kygo's neck - a promise delivered. It was the first time he had ventured to show Kygo the full extent of his prowess.

His words after that were simple yet carried the world. "Can you win, Kygo?" The voice no longer felt like it belonged to Navon's. It was low and soft, yet it scratched the ears like a forbidden pitched rang through it. "The question is not can you fight...but can you win? Can you promise my flesh to the crows? My blood to the soil? Can you guarantee the victory before our blades even meet? Because I can guarantee mine".

Mentions: Kygo ( Shadow )

 

[Klown]

Location: Head Library
Interactions: Jason DeathUnchained
Mentions:

Petals a scorching stardust-white with thin needle veins hued a deep, flaring red. Their name, when spoken, dawned an elated realization unto her. She recalled the sketch, faded with age and the dozens of fingertips which traced the illustrated stems over the decades. A flower that walked alongside myth, a mere deviation away from becoming one itself.

Quill observed with nary a breath as Jason drew blood from his finger and fed the lilies. The roots hungrily soaked the gracious offering into their veins, the petals widened and invigorated, the stem plump and boldly upright. The sight was hauntingly awing and inspired a swarming curiosity. Could it tell the difference between the blood of a person as opposed to an animal? Did different blood incur different reactions? If someone with sick blood were to offer theirs, would the flower reject it or ingest it with greedy impartiality? Whether the former or the latter, could it be used to detect illness otherwise imperceivable?

Although unintentional of Jason, the word ‘victim’ stung with a bee’s precision. The swelling burn of its venom unbalanced her thoughts. A victim, it hissed. Like something vile spat on the ground and stomped by a dirty boot. She’d never considered herself the sort, and to hear it now felt almost insulting. But the denial died on her tongue as if it knew better than to speak lies.

Jason’s hand dredged her back to the present where the vase is delicately tucked between her palms. Quill forgets the function of hands for a second, then properly holds the antique. Her gaze, absorbed by the lilies, glided upward towards Jason’s face. All she could see was his smile, and smiles could mean a million different things. Her eyes flickered across his visor, wondering if there was a secret between its grooves that might betray his eyes. She wondered if in the past she’d ever seen them, or if they were Jason’s best kept secret.

“Are you alright? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I thought I hurt you.”

Quill regarded Jason with large, heedful eyes. Pools of starlight and silver poring over each fresh cut on unarmored cheek, of scrapes denting dark armor, of hair disheveled from more than just wild winds. All the patchwork of a battle fought not long ago.

“You went chasing a myth and returned with it a reality. The thought of hurting me should not fell you.” She couldn’t understand what he meant. There were many things about Jason she didn’t understand. There was only one other person Quill had completely been voided her memories of, but those were old. Flashes of sun-freckled grass beneath lush trees, the scent of something smokey and sweet, the uninhibited squealing laughter of two girls.

“I am inconsequential in comparison to the things that could take your life. I overheard you’ve fought dragons with your bare hands.” She offered a small smile, amused by the rumor though part of her questioned its validity. “Are you sure you won’t wish to keep the lilies? It seems you fought hard to earn them.” ​

 

[DeathUnchained]

Jason Elvesh​

Location: Head Library
Mentions: N/A
Interactions: Quill

A not so small part of him ached hearing her think that she was so inconsequential to him. He dared not let it show on his face, but he only wished she knew how wrong she was. Thanks to his race, magical sword and his personal magic, he was almost adamantine in nature. His skin more durable the the hulls of ships. Arrows were basically useless and bounced off his flesh as though they were mere blades of grass hurled at him on a gentle breeze. It took much to harm him severely, yet she knew not how powerful her existence was to him. How her safety and the situations she found herself in were more detrimental to him than any sword. Sad and sappy though it may seem, she was one of his most vulnerable points. A cliche of the highest order, she was a weakness in the best way possible.

"I don't believe that for a moment." He spoke in a soft and reassuring way, his boice silky and distinctly lacking in the pain that radiated through his heart.

"I consider you one of my most.......precious friends." A pause in his voice as he had to remind himself not to call her all the things he once had. A warmth radiating from him that he had never seemed to have with anyone else "And of course I am giving them to you. My journey was for you and thus, to you go the spoils of that journey." There was a double meaning to his words. She was his inspiration and muse. A person that had taught him how to feel normal in a way. Not big or strong enough to be a true giant and too large to be a human. He felt so alone a lot of the time, but she gave him hope. Hope that maybe.....just maybe he didn't have to be alone. His journey was not done, he had many things to learn, do and see. However, that didn't change the fact that she was the reason he recognized he needed to do it.

Despite these....less than positive musings, he kept his sweet and warming exterior "Plus, such beautiful flowers belong in the care of an equally as radiant person. Such rare blooms would never belong with such a garish lug as myself."

Jason slowly rose from his seated position, only to his knee. Leaning close and using his hand to block his voice from traveling as he whispered in her ear "I only fought one dragon. It was.....rather large and yes, it was with my bare hands."

A chuckle escaped him as he rose to his feet, placing the onyx gauntlet back on his hand. Of course the bite he had given himself on his finger was already healed, being merely a flesh wound. He took a deep breath and sighed a sigh of content, sort of expelling all his more negative emotions as he smiled down at her "I plan to take Mumbasa out to eat. Maybe grab Saph as well. Care to join us?"

 

[Wyll]

Event 1 - Eltan and Keep

Location: Head Library/Lower Levels
Interactions/Mentions: N/A​

---

Amid the business of everything else happening in the library, the shuffling of books, the whispers of conversation, suggestions of secrets, a new sound joined the chorus. The door to the library opened once more, this time, revealing Keep and Eltan standing in the door way.

The two seemed to be locked in a deep conversation, Eltan's sapphire eyes seeming to shimmer with excitement as he talked with Keep. There was the distinct smell of saltwater wafting off of them, a clear indication of where they had been. Although, it shouldn't come as a surprise that they had been by the docks - it was Eltan's favorite place to go in Kidem and Keep was always on Eltan duty whenever he was visiting. Bookie was always too busy, Guille couldn't care less, and Eltan was terrified of Seer.

Over time, the two had grown quite close and it seemed as though Eltan had made it into the chokingly small circle of people Keep would actually confess to enjoying their presence. The sight, understandably, caused a ringing of sorrow in Bookie's heart, watching Eltan look at Keep with eyes that were once reserved entirely and absolutely for him - the gaze of pure adoration. He was grateful that Keep could be there for his son when he could not. After Seer, Keep was the best option for someone to help fill in the gap for Eltan. Keep also supported Bookie's decision not to tell Eltan, and so he trusted that Keep would keep the secret. The same could definitely not be said for Guille. Seer was a see-saw on the matter.

Still, to see his own son so captured by a conversation with another man that neither of them looked his way would inspire sadness in any father's heart. He watched as the two walked, making a beeline for the back of the room where the hidden passage to the lower levels of the library sat. Keep's territory. However, in addition to housing the Seal Records and the Lorekeeper offices, it also held the training areas for the Assassins and Spies, as well as a danger room in case of an emergency. All in all, the lower levels nearly stretched as far down as the main building reached up.

Eventually, Eltan looked up from the book he was reading - the one that he had been gushing to Keep about - as if suddenly remembering he hadn't waved to his dad. He looks around, momentarily disoriented in the large space - something he hadn't quite gotten used to - before finding his Dad's corner and giving an excited wave.

Bookie smiles, his corner of the library momentarily brightening with the warming of his heart, before falling back into its typical silent darkness. Keep and Eltan then made their way down to the lower levels of the library. A single look at Eltan beside keep and some of the Lorekeepers made quick steps toward Keep's office, clearing the office of any evidence of The Seal. By the time Eltan and Keep arrived, not only was there nothing but classic literature and world history and geography, but even the Agents who were there a mere second ago seemed to have vanished.

A small, knowing smile light Keep's face. Tight, efficient work, as always.

Eltan bounced from one side of the room to the other with a curiosity that could not be satisfied. He consumed every map, studied every legend, traced every myth. Many of these, he had come across before, but the boy had a mind for exploring that knew no bounds.

Eventually though, even he grew tired and he tumbled gracelessly onto one of Keep's couches. It was comfortable enough that Eltan practically began sinking into it, a relaxed smile brightening his face. Even the stoic Keep allowed himself a small chuckle. "Sleep well, Little Lion."

 

[Shadow]

"I have failed you in this labyrinth of my mind..."

Kygo

The Shadow

• .
• .

• .
• .

location

Lasalle Library, Training Room

mentions

...

interactions

Navon
( Wyll )

Navon's advice drifted over Kygo as if it was spoken in a foreign language. He did his best to store the words away to ponder later, when he might have more patience to decode them, but even then, this lesson might be one to just quietly disregard, he decided.

Then his expression flickered into frustration, and settled on quiet disappointment when Navon said he was weak. Kygo couldn't sense any influence of his own heart on his combat abilities, and the suggestion of that being a weakness scraped against his nerves.
Especially now that he was fighting for the Seal: an arrangement based far more on convenience than passion.

Anyway, a quiet thought voiced itself, her death only gave more freedom to be lethal.
If his heart was so important, then losing the only person he had to fight for should have made him weaker, surely.

Kygo simply didn't understand it.

But Navon had broken from the pattern of a typical lecture to step back and draw his weapons again, giving Kygo hope that another sparring match was in order.

That hope was shattered all too quickly by the shift in Navon's aura to an intensity Kygo had never seen him display before, even on their missions. It was a brief threat, heralding the pure wave of bloodlust that soon followed it.
But Kygo didn't hesitate, and his karambit knives immediately returned to his hands: an instinct so natural that he was almost relieved when he closed his grip and found them already there.

"What about doubt?"

Navon's query sent a dozen thoughts into his mind at once, all overlapping each other to become jumbled and entirely incoherent.
In the next moment, the air seemed to be swept from the room under a heavy blanket of silence, and his thoughts went with it.

Kygo breathed in slowly, unnerved by the way any natural sounds from Navon had vanished, replaced by a high-pitched, staticky hum as the lightning wielder revealed an even greater posture of force, the looming presence of a hunter over his quarry.
The field of electricity sizzled through Kygo's ears and made his brain itch, souring his temper instantly; but he didn't make any move to end the noise, and likely wouldn't have known how to stop it anyway.
Except, perhaps, by killing Navon.
But Kygo knew with a dread certainty that he couldn't defeat Navon in this state.

The blade of Navon's dagger rose slowly toward his throat, stopping just short of touching his skin, and Kygo flinched, but didn't back away.
Dark eyes flicked upward to stare into the searing void of blueish-white electricity that had overtaken Navon's eyes: listening to his own heart thundering furiously in his chest, Kygo lost any ability to think of what the correct response to this test might be, and his uncertainty locked him into place.

Small sparks arced off the dagger, and he tilted his chin as far away as he could without stepping backward, glaring sharply across the outstretched blade with narrow eyes, searching for anything beneath the shield of lightning covering Navon's expression that might ease the overwhelming sense of pressure surrounding him.

There was nothing.
Just the burning threat and a dare he couldn't interpret.

"Can you win, Kygo? Can you guarantee the victory before our blades even meet? Because I can guarantee mine."

The hair on his arms and neck stood up, whether from the static or from fear at the eerie change in Navon's voice, he couldn’t even tell.

Was this the doubt Navon had wanted an answer for?
Kygo couldn't manage to break the deadlock on the dueling instincts to fight and to run: the hatred he was expecting to feel toward Navon for dropping the veil of safety slowly turned inward, until it found the source of blame: his own easy acceptance of the encroaching specter of death.

Had the past few months really made him this complacent, this passive toward Navon, and the Seal?

Kygo's anger cut away at his self-restraint, and when he finally spoke, it was forceful.

"I can't kill you. I can't defeat most of the Seal agents. So if you're going to kill me, just do it quickly."

Kygo's voice was rough, hoarse from being used so rarely at a regular volume, but his tone easily carried the bitter resignation he felt.
An icy thread ran down his spine, but he only heeded it long enough to take two deliberate steps back from the dagger's edge and reset his stance.

"I'm fighting back, though. You'd better be precise."

coded by reveriee.

 

[Wyll]

The Fire

Navon
Hara

Navon's eyes narrowed as Kygo finally spoke. Everything he knew about Kygo told him that he would fail the test, but Navon had secretly held out hope that Kygo would find some way to see the truth without it needing to be spelled out. His eyelids slowly closed, his shoulders rising with a deep breath. As he breathed out, the crackling sound that had filled the space between the two of them began to quiet itself; the arcs of lighting all over Navon's body no were no longer leaping, but now crawled gingerly across his skin, and even those were slowly absorbed back in.

When he opened his eyes again, their typical golden hue had returned, though there was still a remembrance of the power that surged there only a moment ago. Visibly disappointed, Navon let out a sigh, dropping his blade from it's lock on Kygo's neck.

"Incorrect." It was spoken sharply. "I will not kill you, Kygo. Not only would there be hell to pay if I did, but I could not, even if I wanted to." At that revelation, Navon sheathed his daggers and began circling Kygo as the lecture went on. "That was the magical output of an Intermediate user of magic. At such a high output, I am unable to move so much as a finger. In that moment, I was my most vulnerable. It was a bluff, Kygo. You were deceived by a cheap bluff." He wasn't yelling - yelling wasn't in his nature, not his style - yet his words carried such a depth of castigation that him yelling would likely have felt less harsh.

"That is what it means to fight with your heart, Kygo. To believe in your own victory so much that you force that belief into the mind of your opponent. It is to paint such a vivid image of winning in your mind that neither you nor the people around you can see anything else but that. To fight with your heart is to win without needing to raise your blade." He stopped his pacing directly in front of Kygo, hands clasped firmly behind his back. "Without knowing how to fight with your heart, Kygo, you are fated, destined, bound to lose in a fight against someone who can. And for that reason, until you learn to conquer an enemy with the strength of your spirit alone...you will always be weak. And if that upsets you, angers you...then do something about it."

There was more Navon had to say. If given the chance, he would have gone on for the next hour or two. But someone bursts into the training room and utters but one word.

"Eltan."

No sooner is the word uttered than the word is uttered does every weapon in the vicinity find its place entirely out of sight. All Agents, people who were once drowning the room in the density of their talents , became about as noteworthy as a leaf tumbling down the street. Even Navon's posture dares to relax and his tone softens as he continues talking with Kygo - what was once a harsh reprimand now seeming like nothing more than a casual conversation at the local tavern.

"That is all for now, Kygo. You are dismissed until you have learned the strength of your own heart." Choosing to leave it at that, Navon made his way to the door. As he made his way back to the public levels, he passed Eltan and Keep and the most impossible of things happened. Navon smiled. His face lit up, like the blooming of a summer flower, at the sight of Eltan. Pleasantries were exchanged and Navon went about his business, returning to the upper levels of the library.

How Eltan had never questioned why a library would need to have hidden lower levels for "offices" was something Navon had never quite figured out, but today - just as any other day - he convinced himself that it was none of his business. Returning to the upper levels, Navon looked around to take note of everything that had changed. Other than the fact that Seer was no longer anywhere to be seen and Quill had found a new talking partner, there was not much change. However, there was the distinct and unexplained scent of...tea?

Mentions: Kygo ( Shadow )
Now open for interaction.

 

[Klown]

Location: Head Library > Somewhere in the woods
Interactions: Jason DeathUnchained
Mentions: Scarlett, Cresley, Saphielle, Navon

Jason’s fondness had the makings of a song crooned by foreign lips. Quill could sway with the melody, follow its pulse, and hum along. But she could not understand the lyrics, the very heart of a piece. Her mouth could mimic the words, but they would be hollow shells. One might hazard the tune’s theme through the soars or rumbles of the notes; happy, sad, rousing, catharsis. But where the songwriter carved their heart and bled it onto the pages was in the poetry.

Quill understood Jason cared. She didn’t understand why he cared so strongly. Moreover, it frustrated her. Standing with him felt like an unfinished song, the artist slammed before a monstrous, impassable wall. She saw her impact on him as plainly as he displayed it, yet what impact had he made on her? And had it all been for naught? She wondered, fleetingly, if Jason had ever come to hate her for forgetting, or if he ever will.

Radiant was not an adjective she ever imagined anyone would use to describe her. It was a word better possessed by Scarlett or Cresley, who would wear it like the skin they were born in. Radiant didn’t suit her as garish didn’t suit Jason.

The word dangling at the tip of her tongue, instead, was beacon. A guide. A mountain that splintered the horizon but did not impose on its beauty. She did not speak it, however. Maybe on a day when boldness found her easier, Jason would know the words.

She leaned into the whisper, always eager for hushed motes of secrecy. Her tail, ever the traitor of her expressionless demeanor, swayed with intrigue. Battling such a ferocious creature with nothing but the skill of one’s palms must’ve been daunting.

“I—” Her face dropped into a distant monotone; her intended response cut short as if plummeted off an abrupt edge.

A calloused palm lurching through fog, not seeking but halting. A seizing wail of anguish, then a wet slash into gargled silence. Puddles dark and grim, absorbing the shadows between the trees. A heartbeat, rapid enough to burst the eardrums. A weight in her arms, the ground disappearing beneath her feet. An invisible name called from dry lips.

“No,” her voice returned to her with the force of a leaf landing on the water’s surface, eyes blinking with clarity upon Jason again. She never knew how to react when past experiences surged through her mind with equal strength to a javelin. “I think I should be alone right now.” Her head ached as if struck with a physical blow.

“Please do let Saphielle know I am doing well. But thank you, for the offer and the lilies.” She smiled through the nagging throb of her temple. She hadn’t earned her rest regardless, not with all the mishaps that clung at her heels.

As she walked away from Jason, the bookshelves leered too tall, the aisles squeezed too close, the hushed patrons sounded like phantoms. A series of whispers occupied her lips, recited like a forbidden mantra.

“Hand, fog, wail, dark, heartbeat. Hand, fog, wail, dark, heartbeat.” Over and over the words formed and reformed on her lips. Halted only by the light that swept into the library from outside as Eltan and Keep entered the building. She stopped walking, stood in a pensive stillness with the gifted vase in hand. If Eltan was here, he’d bring with him starry eyes and insatiable curiosity, that much she remembered. Her gaze found Bookie, and although unfamiliar with the intricacies of his shifting expressions, knew there was work to be done.

Quill fell into motion with the rest of the Lorekeepers, an organized network. Scrolls, tomes, maps, letters, all of them replaced, stowed away, or taken elsewhere. She hid things based off past judgement and the judgement of the fellow Lorekeepers around her. Soon enough, Keep’s office was stripped of so much as any dust collected by Seal documents. Quill wasn’t as quick to disappear as the others, however, retrieving the vase of Vampire Lilies she’d set down temporarily.

Upon her departure, she caught the briefest scent of sun and sea brine wafting off Keep’s and Eltan’s clothes, and a kindness on Keep’s face as he wished Eltan, or Little Lion, a good rest. Feeling it was not a moment meant for her eyes to intrude upon, Quill made herself scarce swiftly after.

—

The Vampire Lilies had been left in her cabin, situated amongst a shelf of other exotic flowers and other plants. The specific room was crawling with vines and the sweet scent of pollen. It’d been a pastime of hers during her recovery, Saphielle had aided her a great deal with it too.

Kidem’s best feature would always be its ocean, but its forests were plenty rich as well. The trees weren’t as dense, the sun spotlighted through the canopies rather than squeezed by. Most were reveling in the big city life or admiring its crystalline seas; a forest could be found anywhere, thus there was no novelty.

But each forest was a new language learned. Quill followed the tracks of animals, tiptoeing over their imprint as if retracing her own steps. She watched a line of ants crawling in perfect uniform up the trunk of a tree, touched a leaf onto their path to disturb it, and found amusement in how they simply walked around.

The silence of nature soothed the prickling anxiety of the day. Between her mistakes, her less than dignified altercation with Navon, and the revelation of the Echobinder’s potential consciousness, Quill felt like a string tightly braided into knots. Her tail perked at the sound of running water.

A clear watered creek, shallow only at a close distance. Quill sat and watched the water gently trickle over smooth rock; her reflection caught on its shimmering surface. She removed her cloak and held it in front of her. Dozens of small holes poked the fabric from the thorns that had burst from her at Navon’s cruelty. She wondered if she might find someone to help her sew it whole again. It was set aside. She reached for the buckle of the Echobinder’s protective case and unfasted its belts from her hip, dropping it atop the cloak.

In what might appear like a completely ill-considered and impulsive motion, Quill dropped onto her side and rolled her body into the water until at the center of it. The water cooled both her body and mind, providing much needed soothing after everything.

“Hand…fog…wail…dark...heartbeat…” Each word is given longer to be silently judged by her tongue, muttered at the sky above as the running water tickled her ears. Her mouth grew tired of moving. Quill exhaled, trying to ease the coiling bramble of her stress. Then she inhaled until her lungs stretched against her ribs, and she flipped in the water again, the entirety of her front, face and all, sunk beneath it.​

 

[lyn.]

A

shiver down her spine was the only warning of Guille’s arrival. Her eyes squeezed shut as darkness surrounded them, an ability all too similar to her nightmares. What once were empty halls and a dining room haunted by memory become an endless trail of black in her dreams. No candlelight or moonlit window to remind her of where she was. Where she stood.

“I believe not.”

As fear-inducing as it was, the sound of Guille’s voice returned Aricia’s mind return to the living. She gripped the fabric of Scarlett’s sleeve in an attempt to soothe her friend's nerves as well as her own. It didn’t serve as much help at the dissent that rose in her at Guille’s orders.

They were agents, were they not? What was the harm in making a bit of a mess? They spend every day off on dangerous missions, and yet a slight mess with tea leaves results in them being caged up in nightmare fuel before the whole of the library? Surely a bit of dust isn’t as worrisome as the weapons they all carry on their backs!

Of course, Aricia would never voice those words out loud. Oh no, not to Guille. As much as she’d like to defend herself, she valued her well-being a lot more. So instead she turned away, chin tilted up in a weak show of defiance as she made her way to where she thought the cleaning supplies were. Was there even a broom in this place?

Her short time alone gave room for more grisly thoughts, and Aricia was reminded why she so desperately wanted to be at The Seal in the first place. She groaned loudly as she lifted up whatever cleaning supplies she could find. If only she could turn back time, she would tear Scarlett out of that room before Îstoire had approached them. Or at the very least, convince them to leave before they began fooling around with their little box. God, she could be eating some amazing food by now.

Aricia’s spirits raised slightly as she approached her friends, supplies in hand. They were exchanging words she could not hear, and she once again found herself annoyed at being sent away.

“I’m sorry Ari. Maybe you can get food without me. I need to clean this up…I’m sure you can leave. See you later?”

Aricia let the items in her hands fall to the floor. She sighed dramatically and flipped her hair behind her shoulders.

“I’ll help you, of course. Twos better than one, right? The sooner we finish, the sooner we can eat, yes?” She paused, “Though I cannot assure you the result from me will be spotless.” The admission was the most her pride would allow her. The only time she’d ever spent cleaning was during her night potion sessions, and even then, all that was needed was a quick swipe of a rag. Her experience with a broom or a duster was absolutely nonexistent.

”Say… What do you think about replacing the floors and corridors of the library with sea-lanes? Wouldn't they be so much easier to clean?”

Aricia smiled and gestured towards the skirts of her dress.

“Unfortunately, corset dresses aren’t well recommended for swimming.” She paused and tilted her head in thought. “Would it not make sense for us to have a… maid of some sort? Or a housekeeper? With this many people, there’s always going to be messes.”

She looked towards the array of equipment before her. “Now, what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?”

"A bird flew by, saw what I'd done..."

Aricia Belwick

location:

Kidem, Head Library

outfit:

interactions:

CrimsonInk CloudySkyLoftyMoon Mentioned: Guille

 

[hery]

The Sun

Cresley Hogsweed

̳C̳̳h̳̳a̳̳p̳̳t̳̳e̳̳r̳ ̳1̳: ̳K̳̳i̳̳d̳̳e̳̳m̳


INTERACTION: Else
LOCATION: Lasalle Library
OUTFIT: Everyday
MENTIONS: Mypilot

The earth-brown of Cress' eyes twinkled in the daylight, childishly triumphant in his quest to photosynthesize. Despite Else's lack of agency in bringing the discussion outdoors, Cress found it all but imperative to give the poor Lorekeeper some fresh air, being cooped-up in that dusty library for so long. Besides, the two of them spent the better half of their last mission scurrying about in the shadows of night, drenched in Kumi's smoky rainfall.

"Illegal...!" Cress reacted with a drop of the jaw, almost at a loss for words. But his curiosity was always greater, as was the constant urge to pelt the changeling with quips, quotations, and queries. "Did you... take any of those offerings?"

He could never seem to get comedic timing right with Else.

The shaded alley seemed quieter, a more discreet location for discussing delicate matters, but the bustling marketplace promised a background noisy enough to drown out their conversation. Though it certainly lacked privacy.

The city had its quirks in all parts, a quiet kind of beauty buried in the backstreets and half-hidden alleys. The walls bore the marks of time and weather, and the air carried the faintest hints of spices from nearby vendors mixed with damp stone. Within them pulsed echoes of the city’s heartbeat—the small features that made it feel alive, even in its dim corners.

Cress’ smile warmed as he started to hurry up to Else's pace, taking in the shadowed path with a sense of quiet appreciation. “A view of the square, is there?” he said, his voice light. “You’ve got good taste, Elsie. Not everyone sees the charm in a place like this.”

Not too far yet from the library's steps, Cress suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Keep and Eltan were coming up the path from the street, deep in conversation, so engrossed that they didn’t seem to notice the two agents standing just there. It was rare for anyone to pull even a hint of emotion out of Keep, putting an even stranger spin on the sight of his soft sort of laughter. A fresh whiff of saltwater followed the pair up the steps.

With a friendly grin, Cress tipped them an imaginary hat, shooting Else a knowing look as if to say, Well, now, isn’t that something?

His gaze followed them briefly as they moved into the library’s shadowed entrance, before he turned his focus back to the alley ahead.

In moments, he was standing beside Else. He chuckled, stepping forward past the Lorekeeper and taking in the worn cobblestones beneath his boots, their cracks almost artful in the sunless scene. Leaning in a little, he muttered with a warm edge to his voice, “Always good to see the kid so full of spirit, don’t you think?”

Cress found himself again glancing around, eyes scanning the narrow space ahead, cataloging the shadowy crevices and closed doors abound. Back entrances, probably, or hiding spots, if the need arose. A habit he couldn’t shake, especially in quieter parts of town like these, where prying eyes were rare, but other things—not so much.

Perhaps there was something about crossing paths with Keep and Eltan that had stirred the Seal agent in him, a subtle reminder of the values they had sworn to uphold—and the careful dance it took to do so. "Right then, to business, I suppose," said the hobbit.

He glanced back at Else, just briefly, as they began to navigate their rat-infested detour. "Tell me, do you think those... you-know-whos... at you-know-where, knew we were coming, or was that just a coincidence?"

coded by reveriee.

 

[CrimsonInk]

THE JOKER.

scroll

SCARLETT

LEONHARDT

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

Better, Hopeful

OUTFIT

SOFT VIBES

LOCATION

KIDEM, HEAD LIBRARY

MENTIONS

ELTAN, KEEP, NAVON

INTERACTS

lyn. ARICIA
CloudySkyLoftyMoon ÎSTOIRE

SPARKING — NAMCO SOUNDS.

scroll

Wind and Words.

We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

CHAPTER ONE.

“If you bring me the cleaning tools I can animate them; that one’s an easy charm. As for the rest…best not to push out luck.”

Scarlett turned her attention back to the merman. Her eyes laid gentle at his person, weighing on his words regarding the charm. It didn’t seem like a bad idea to use it, but was it wise to use magic for a simple cleaning? In honesty she agreed with Îstoire on one thing. She would rather not push her luck with Guille. Despite the fear she may feel at times, the elvish woman’s intent was more than just punishment. It was a lesson. Scarlett wanted to learn from the lesson in a meaningful way, but just this once she won’t be so hard on herself. The charm is helpful. Îstoire was one of the few Lorekeepers that Scarlett looked up to and his aid was something she did appreciate. Light tears that trickled down her cheeks began to dry from her shift in mood. That bitter shame turned more pleasant and warm. Though it could also be Aricia’s appearance that may have helped. She was helpless when it came to such common things such as cleaning. Maybe helpless was too harsh of a word. Aricia was rather….eccentric when it came to things outside her luxurious lifestyle. It was adorable.

“Say…what do you think about replacing the floors and corridors of the library with sea-lanes? Wouldn't they be so much easier to clean?”

“Unfortunately, corset dresses aren’t well recommended for swimming.”

“Well,” Scarlett began in deep thought, “what about the floor being made of a thick glass or glass like material with water underneath? You could easily slide the floor sheet with a handle to open it for you to come in and out? Or would that be too complicated…?”

The exchange was distracting her from the cleanup and the girl only had half a mind to stay focused when everything else was far more interesting. Scarlett first bent down to pick up the broom, using the handle to hold herself up noticing a certain scent breathing in. It was sweet and salty all at once, and when her eyes gazed up she recognized two familiar faces. Eltan and Keep. There they walked in with Eltan’s eyes deep within a book, Scarlett taking note of the title, and going about their day as usual. It seemed they must have come back from the docking area, a place she remembered Eltan telling her about one of the few times they’ve come across each other. Eltan was really a sweet and intelligent person, but the guilt of hiding anything regarding the Seal felt so deceptive in her heart. Rocks of that guilt kept dragging her deep in the sea of shame every time she crossed him.

Standing right back up she guided her attention back to Aricia and Îstoire, her lips defaulting to a simple smile and eyes brightening from the sudden motivation to get the cleaning done.

“Please charm these ones and I’ll start on the portion here. I’ll give you this easier one, Ari~,” she sang her friend’s name, handing her the broom, “move your arms like this and just make a small pile. Swish, swish! If your arms get suddenly tired, that means you’re doing it right~.”

Scarlett made sure to watch Aricia in case she needed help. While she trusted Îstoire with their portion of the task, Aricia was another story. While she did love her dear friend, it was the lack of awareness she had with the more mundane things. Though she never held it against her, it wasn’t her fault for how she was brought up to be. Rather in their years of friendship, she has gotten much better with these sorts of things. It was only the fact that she had created a small army of agents upset, but it’s fine. That was another year for them to work on something like that. Just one step at a time. It was the effort Scarlett was happy to see her put, despite what everyone else may feel about it. *coughs* Navon *coughs*.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[Shadow]

"I have failed you in this labyrinth of my mind..."

Kygo

The Shadow

• .
• .

• .
• .

location

Outside Lasalle Library, Among Trees

mentions

Navon

interactions

Quill
( Klown )

A slow, deep breath signaled the return of normalcy to the space around them as Navon dissipated his lightning and sheathed his weapons.
Kygo had only gotten whiplash a few times in his life, but this was easily the worst instance of it. Despite his relief at being freed from the nauseating sensation of static, he would have gladly taken a fight for his life, rather than endure a threat that was just intended to highlight another point in Navon's lecture.

The reminder that Seal agents weren't supposed to harm each other, even if one had seniority over another, hardly mattered to Kygo in that moment; in spite of the way that rule often lingered in his mind like a puzzle, missing its central piece.

The repetitive sound of Navon's footfalls began to punctuate the sharp-toned critique being levied out, and Kygo's hands tightened reflexively over his knife grips, gaze riveting to the floor.
The words themselves weren't what caused the tense weight to take its place within his shoulders; it was the way Navon spoke that affected him. As if he was already supposed to know the things Navon was saying, and it was a disappointment that he didn't.

Kygo wanted to protest, to argue somehow that he hadn't fallen for the trick or that he wasn't going to be outmatched by anyone else, since he didn't respect many people the way he had come to respect Navon, but it was pointless.
The words wouldn't come, and he felt the defeat in his chest, somewhere between his anger toward Navon and frustration with himself.

The training room door suddenly opened and a code was given.

"Eltan."

A flick of Kygo's wrists sent his knives smoothly into their sheaths: one of the first habits to become an instinct after joining the Seal.

Yet, Navon's shift into a more casual tone didn't bring him any relief this time. It was as if Kygo had forgotten how to function under calmer words and relaxed postures, and the steady de-escalation from Navon only stirred his irritation further.
But then, the lecture had ended and Navon was walking away before any petty retort could come to his lips.

You are dismissed until you have learned the strength of your own heart.

Kygo threw his head back to glare at the high stone ceiling and his jaw clamped shut as he listened to those footsteps fade down the halls.
Inevitably, his attention was drawn back into his surroundings: the murmur of the agents in the underground area of the Library trying to avoid doing anything that looked suspicious, while the more subtle vibrations through the walls kept him aware of the constant traffic on the floors above.
It was hard to despise the underground parts of the Library, warm and clean as they were, but without the distraction of training, Kygo wasn't inclined to linger either.

With the decision having made itself, Kygo's feet carried him out into the hallway, where whispered footsteps echoed inside passages he hadn't seen before; but he didn't give them much thought, with his attention now set on finding a reprieve from thinking about the test he had just failed.
Urgent as his footsteps were, though, he still paused diligently before exiting the hidden passage, then blended seamlessly into the thrum of activity as he cut a path toward the main doors.

Back among the open cacophony of the street, a familiar regret at leaving those sturdy stone walls rose up, but he resumed a quick pace as he ducked into the flow of pedestrians just long enough to reach the nearest entrance to the forest garden.

Finally alone within the shade of the trees, Kygo took a long, slow breath to orient himself to the rustle of wind through leaves, the trickling creek gently announcing its path across the garden while three distinct yet harmonic bird calls rang out over the light crawl of insects through the foliage.
Without needing to think about it, Kygo moved to the nearest corner of the wooded space, and crouched comfortably at the intersection of stone walls that had offered a reliable shelter from the full brunt of city noise ever since he moved to Kidem.

Kygo's hands lifted toward his ears and lightly brushed through the soft, fluffy fabric of his earmuffs: his eyes easing shut and tension fading from his posture as the comfort of a memory resurfaced from the depths.

Slowly though, he began to notice a faint heartbeat coming from nearby, making itself heard above the garden's usual cadence: too slow to be a bird or another small creature, yet seeming too quiet to be entirely healthy.
Concern rose up against his will, and he stood: striding across the garden toward the pulse until the creek and it's unfamiliar inhabitant came into view.

Kygo paused and stared at the strange figure for a moment, assessing whether an accident or an attack might be the reason they were lying face down in the water.

"Hello?"

There was no sign that his voice had roused them, so he crossed the last few paces quickly and turned them carefully by the shoulder, surprise flickering briefly across his face when bright silver eyes met his own; he instantly released his grip and backed up to a comfortable distance.

"Are you okay?"

Kygo asked softly: keeping any depth from his voice, as a twinge in his throat gave him immediate regret for raising his voice earlier.

Doubt clouded his features, but his curiosity was just as pressing, as he tried to decide what instinct could have brought someone to lower their guard so completely.

"Can you breathe underwater?"

coded by reveriee.

 

[Mypilot]

i am bound by the seal

Else had been about to reply to Cresley when he seemed to freeze, not out of fear but in great interest. With furrowed brow, Else stepped forward to see what was amiss. They needn’t have, however, as Keep and Eltan came into view on their own.

The two were quite close as they walked together, in deep discussion and with little notice for anything else in their surroundings. The sight was not surprising to Else, who had seen Eltan’s presence more around their pillar. Keep was not the sociable sort, often only speaking when needed and chiefly about the work done in the Library. It was partly what was so interesting about their relationship, since Eltan had no idea of The Seal’s existence, it meant he spoke with Keep…for personal interest.

A harrowing thought.

Else met Cresley’s gaze, matching his wry smile with a raised brow. They turned away, back towards the alley, watching the shadows as Cresley’s footsteps came to their side. At his comment, Else sighed. “Is that what all that is?” they wondered aloud, adjusting the sleeves of their tunic.

It was a relief to be on their way, as Else disliked such moments of stillness when out and about. It was easiest to simply get from Point A to Point B, then to return back to the comforting confines of the Library. But this journey of theirs was necessary, so that Else could work with Cresley to see what adjustments could be made to future missions should the two of them work together once more.

As they walked, Else folded their hands behind their back and inspected the dark alley with great thought. They were not put out by the dingy quality or the smell that lingered in the air. People had a habit of feeling too safe in a crowd, when a still and quiet path could offer just the same amount of sanctuary.

At Cresley’s question, Else tilted their head. “Hmm?” they said, their mind taking a moment to catch up to their ears. “Ah, well. Coincidence is seldom the root cause of anything, is it? There is always something that falls into place in the right way. Or the worst way.”

Their boots squelched as they passed over a puddle, sunlit flickering down in brief glimmers as it found gaps in windows and rooftops, the other side of the alley approaching rather quickly. A door slammed somewhere ahead, voices muffled and low through the adjacent walls.

“Are you worried someone let slip some information?” Else asked, following what they assumed the train of thought was. “Intentional or otherwise, of course.” It was nasty business, after all, to suggest a traitor.

else

LOCATION: Outside the Library

INTERACTIONS: Cresley

MENTIONS: -

TAGS: hery

code by valen t.

 

[Talathel]

• .
• .
• .
• .

• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  how she's feeling...

  
  
  
  

  Focused, Distracted, and Tired
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  what she's wearing...

  
  
  
  

  Must you ask?

  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  where she's at...

  
  
  
  

  Library --> Training Room
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
• 
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  

  in the conversation...

  
  
  
  

  Eltan, Keep (NPC), Bookie (NPC) ( Wyll )
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

Saphielle

The Insider

Saphhielle paused in her steps as two new figures caught her gaze. Her stunning tri-colored orbs focusing on the small figure next to one of the pillars as she raised a curious eyebrow. Eltan was not an unusual site to see for the ex-princess but she had to admit she was curious as to what was happening between the two. Keep was the other unusual site to see - for she didn't usually come across both Keep, Seer, and Bookie within one of her little escapades through the tombs of literature and words. Her eyes softened as she watched Eltan from the shadows by the door, her glacial persona melting just a tidbit before she stiffened and left the room. The three pillars being in the room made her a bit wary despite the fact she honestly (surprisingly) got along with most (okay, well - half) of the pillars at The Seal. Bookie was fine and Keep was alright - but Seer and Guille just made her anxious and nervous. And after having to ditch Quill... the sole agent she viewed as family, with Seer already - let's just say Saph was not a fan period.

Fire hair flashed brightly as copper strands caught the lighting as she left, setting a halo of fire around her head as she exited the room. Heeled boots clicked ominously as she made her way towards the training room. Eyeing Navon and the other agent as they sparred, she made sure she kept herself out of sight for a bit of time before entering and wanted some alone time to relax and practice her swordsmanship. Her two swords, Crescent Diamonds, hung at each hip delicately. The sheaths aptly describe her magic type by the fancy swirls of vines and flower designs across the leather. Taking a deep breath, the girl that some knew to be gentle and sweet, fell away to have the Ice Queen (which let's be honest many were familiar with) to take its place.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out and almost immediately a change happened. A gleam of silver metal as diamonds shone at the hilt while they were drawn with a

shink

. Saphielle focused her piercing gaze, falling into a balanced stance and quickly running through some movements, slashing with one sword while moving her other arm to block an imaginary foe as she took measured steps forward and back, allowing her mind to wander into that dangerous thinking as she practiced her forms over and over and...over again. Her hair spun around her with each movement, as her navy blue skirt swirled out around her like water rippling as a leaf hit it. Her focus solely on her blades and her magic as she gently tugged at it, allowing her nature magic to pool into the shorter sword for a split second to practice her control before pulling it back, the green glow around her sword fading from existence as she opened her eyes. The assassin continued the deadly dance, muscles aching and legs trembling as she held a final position with the longest of her swords outstretched, the shorter held across her chest as she breathed out shakily.

♡coded by uxie

 

[Klown]

Location: Garden outside the Library
Interactions: Kygo Shadow
Mentions:

The blinding fold of darkness coalesced with the deafening surge of water tasted familiar. A flavor distilled by generations of reiterated recipes. There was wrongness in the nostalgia. Too little sugar, or too little salt. Always a pinch away from something groundbreaking.

The hand, the fog, the wail. What came after? What came before? What if the threads were of different string? One wool, one silk, one cotton. Unrelated in essence but tethered by commonality? What if they weren’t strings of her own but frauds hooked on a lure by the Echobinder to keep Quill chasing a staged probability? She knew it to be within the book’s capabilities. How many foes had she deceived with false images? How many agents had she turned into unobtrusive shadows within compromising visions? It would be rightful karma for it to be done unto her.

If such were the case, what would be the point of grasping what she knows now? What if she’d never know who she was or where she was from or who she was supposed to be—

Her weight is abruptly flipped, her pupils squeezed sharply into needles as light barged in unannounced and unwelcomed, obscured barely by the looming shape of a person.

In that second, everything was barren. The flat ruins of a seaside village after washed by a titan’s wave, abandoned by all except the memory of a place once lived. Though for her, the feeling closer resembled a cleansing than a catastrophe.

Quill sat upright, sopping hair cascading over her eyes, her face stared blank as parchment at the man who’d dredged her out from the mire of her introspection.

Breathing.

As if stirred by the word, Quill’s lungs pulled in air with the leisure of appraising a delicate discovery. The throbbing knot in her chest relaxed, welcoming the breeze. She inhaled as if uncertain of her own tangibility, as if this were the first breath she’d drawn in years and was a rusted machine freshly oiled, creaking with the effort but easing into instinct.

“No,” she answered softly, voice sounding how it might on the cusp of a dream. Or perhaps she was reproducing his volume, like there was some beast they’d risk waking if they spoke too loudly. “I was trying to think, but it was working against my favor.” She wrung the water from her hair, small blue buds dancing away with the current.

“I read somewhere that submerging yourself into water and blocking your vision helps dull the senses. A meditation of sorts. Maybe it wasn’t what I needed. Or maybe I was doing it wrong.” Quill consideringly tilted her head, wondering if to resubmerge herself at a different angle. With company present, she opted against it.

She gauged the stranger for more than a second and realized he was not a stranger at all. Well, unfamiliar to her, yes, but not unknown. His face was one she caught—perhaps once or twice—in the training rooms alongside Navon. He was an agent, but there was no look of recognition on his face when first seeing her. Nor had he seemed inclined to remind her of something. She did not know him, and he did not know her. She was comfortable in that, however fleeting.

Quill removed her shoes, tied the ends of the opposite laces, then hung them around her neck. Afterwards she crawled out of the water towards her cloak where the Echobinder nested at the top.

“Are you also here to think? The water is refreshing, if nothing else…” A short pause. “Can you breathe underwater?” She asked in earnest.​

 

[roxybirdie]

THE TROUBLEMAKER.

scroll

ROAN

"FENNEC"

ㅎㅎ

MOOD

So rude, Sparky...

OUTFIT

RANGER CASUAL

LOCATION

LASALLE LIBRARY

MENTIONS

N/A

INTERACTS

Kalin

TAGS

WillOWispJJ

BONES — IMAGINE DRAGONS.

scroll

GRIM REAPER,

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?

CHAPTER 1.

Roan Duskraven is a changeling; they will be addressed as Fennec Sunshadow until further notice.​

​

"Two dozen? That’s quite a lot of peanut butter cookies, Fen. Are you sure that won’t slow you down on your missions?"​

A scowl adorned his face. Without warning, Fennec leaned to his left and flicked Kalin on the nose. "Kalin Rochet, are you calling me fat?" he inquired. His pointed ears twitched, bending back like a cat displeased with his master. He leaned back and crossed his arms. His lips curved downward in a pout. "Body shaming me for liking your baking? How fucking dare you, Sparky. So rude." His ears drooped down like a sad puppy.

Reaper huffed at his master's dramatic performance.

"And a thing of lemon bars? Well, you drive a hard bargain, sir. I am willing to accept, but I must ask: at what point are these delicacies needed? Are they something I must make before we start or after?"​

Fennec continued to pout. "If you're going to be rude, I want them before we start," he mumbled. He stared at the parchment paper with the terms and conditions inscribed on the front. "If I teach you anything about runes right now, I'm only covering the basics. I'll go into detail after I receive my payment." He accepted the original parchment and placed it inside his satchel.

"Afterall, you know I value honor and honesty above all."​

He flinched in response. He tucked a lock of silvery ash blonde hair behind his ear. The flash of blonde from his peripheral left a bitter taste on his tongue. It tasted like smoldering embers and blood. A small, melancholic smile painted his lips.

"Of course. Your honesty is how we became friends in the first place. If I recall, I called it a breath of fresh air, right?"

He dug his fingers into his temple, suppressing the faint tremor in his hand. Suddenly, a pair of spectral hands draped over his shoulders. Velvety lips ghosted over his ear, sending a chill down his spine.

'Honor and honesty? You filthy liar. Your existence is the very opposite of honor and honesty,' it hissed. The deep baritone voice was more lethal than the poison they used to coat their daggers. 'More like disgrace and deceit!' A booming laugh echoed inside his mind. It used to be warm and full of life. However, it was cold and lifeless. A spark of unbridled rage was evident in the haunting tone.

"If you don’t have anything else of importance to do, would you like to go for a stroll with me?"​

A familiar voice cut through the thunderous laughter like a flourishing rapier. All traces of the ghostly spectator vanished. Since the fog was lifted, his dark brown eyes gained clarity. He blinked rapidly. "Hm? What?" A flicker of confusion appeared on his face.

It took him a moment to register the invitation. Fennec retracted his hand and packed his satchel. "Fresh air sounds promising. Where to?" he inquired. He pointedly ignored the slight tremor in his fingers. He needed to leave now before the episode grew worse.

Reaper whined and nudged his master.

"I'll be fine after I have some fresh air, Reaper. Don't worry about me," Fennec muttered, switching to Elvish.

The massive direwolf let out a huff. The look on his furry face was obvious. Of course I'll worry, dumbass.

"Okay, rude. The look is unwarranted," he grumbled.

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[CloudySkyLoftyMoon]

Îstoire – The Glutton

The Library | Kidem

Mentions: Bookie, Aricia, Scarlett
| Tags: lyn. CrimsonInk

” Nonsense!”

A swift pull removed the blanket that covered Îstoire’s tail. The merman stretched and proudly displayed his fins.

”That dress only brings you closer to perfect swimming form!”

After all, wasn’t that the whole point of corsets? In fact, if one traced the history of corsets and their evolution throughout the ages, it was clear—to Îstoire, and perhaps no one else—that corsets were designed to bring humans closer to the mermaline form. Sure, using a corset to swim would take some practice, especially for a race born so disadvantaged as humans; however, with concerted effort and time, anyone could see success. Furthermore—

”I can teach you. A bit of guidance and you’ll be swimming in no time.”

At some point, Scarlett returned with the cleaning tools and a brilliant idea.

”That’s great! Do you think Bookie will accept a petition? Enough signature and we re-design the Library?”

That could work, couldn't it? But...how would that work? What was the necessary threshold? A majority, surely; but 50% wouldn’t cut it. Perhaps 67% ... 75%? How would he even get that many of the Seal’s agents to sign such a petition?

The merman pondered as he enchanted, animating the tools in short order—chores were a very familiar charm.

Îstoire’s eyes sought out the aforementioned pillar; instead, he found the doors as Eltan & Keep swept in, the scent of sea-salt on their heels. The merman didn’t think much of their entrance, whatever thoughts he had on Bookie’s choices would remain just that…thoughts. And so, Îstoire returned his attention to his two co-conspirators. They… were his co-conspirators, right?

”You two would sign, right?”