nysalogs | locked to house #4

Hah I knew there had to be one!

[ Rhys sort of bursts that out all of a sudden mid-way through, be he recovers quickly and explains: ]

--Sorry. I meant a world where there were elves and no humans. I was totally talking to this other elf about that like, two weeks ago! He thought you guys had to have existed for us to put you in books and stuff but we really don't have Elves on Pandora. Or anywhere.

Humans do exist in my world, we Elvhen simply predated them. By the time our empire collapsed, there were enough of them to scavenge the remains, and enslave those of my people that yet remained.

[Yet another thing to add to his "reasons to be bitter" jar.]

Ooooh....uhh. [ w e l p that got awkward fast ] That's. Your world was one of those huh?

[ "Those" being one where humans apparently moved in and enslaved other people which...yeah okay it happens back home, but it's not generally an entire people that's oppressed? Dahl went through that phase of criminal labour, Atlas had their turning-kids-into-assassins, and Hyperion...more or less terrorized a planet full of the remnants of the former.

It wasn't a race thing though?? ]

I'm...sorry. For that.

[ Rhys isn't from Abelas's world and maybe it's meaningless coming from a human who isn't involved or doesn't know the fell scope of it all, but he feels like he should at least say something. ]

[He continued writing as he spoke, and surprisingly his tone was not as biting and scornful as it was previously. The human was making an effort not to be offensive, he could respect that.]

Tis not the fault of a single human, much less one that has never set foot in Thedas.

[It was a nice sentiment, but there was a reason the Elvhen fell, and it was by their own doing.]

My people were not innocent in such matters themselves. It was not a utopia by any means but... there was much worth remembering if not preserving.

Is that what you're doing? With the writing I mean. You seem to take a lot of notes.

[ Just as an observation. Rhys tries not to run into Abelas if he can help it since they haven't gotten along too well so far, but he has seen the man writing rather diligently once or twice now. ]

[He finally looked up to the human, then glanced back down to his work. The green ink had an odd shimmer to it.]

Something to that effect. There is much that I have forgotten after so many years, I would like to preserve what I can before even that meager bit is lost forever.

[ It's an unusual color for notes as far as Rhys knows it, but somehow he doubts that Abelas's world came supplied with red and black pens or highlighters. Or notebooks. ]

That's cool. [ It sounds entirely tedious to him but it's probably a pretty important thing in the grand scheme of things. ]

What sorts of stuff are you writing down?

Memories.

[He should probably elaborate for the human. As much as he enjoyed being vague and cryptic, if it would save his from another round of inane questions, he may as well give up the information willingly.]

Tis Veilfire writing, [He gestures to the green flame on the candle near where he was working.] it allows me to convey more than merely words on paper as your forms of writing are limited to.

Clearly you've never heard of vlogging.

[ Writing is not the only medium humans use in the future now Abelas!! They have expanded in new, thrilling, and frivolous ways! Now anyone can make a poor-quality video in their computer room and upload it to the ECHO net. ]

What does the ink do?

No, I have not.

[Nor does he think he'll care for it. It would no doubt be more crude and needlessly complicated, as he's come to expect from human technology.]

It allows me to convey memories, or even emotions.

Wait, emotions as in--as in like happy, sad, angry? That sort of stuff??

[ holy shit dude ]

How?

Yes, that which one wishes to convey. Explaining how would require explaining the entire basic function of magic to you, I do not think you would understand it.

[He heaved a sigh and tried the simplify it the best he could. It was a lost art even among Thedas from his understanding, explaining it to one who likely had never seen a spell in their life was... difficult.]

The simplest way I can put it is that Veilfire is the memory of a flame from the realm from which I draw magic. Tis formed by spirits who have never experienced a true flame. [He held his hand to the flame and let it dance along the skin without pulling his hand back.] It gives off light and it cannot burn, but it has unique properties that those with the understanding can make use of.

Ahah...wow. You are uh, you're right. I pretty much got, like...none...of that.

[ Rhys is just going to admit that outright there, no shame just a little bit of awkward. He has no idea how one draws magic from lit or unlit flames and alternate realities or whatever Abelas is talking about there, there's no use trying to bluff his way through that. It would just be a train wreck. ]

Is it sort of like if I read it I'd see what you're writing down?

[Well the effort was made to explain it, better he confuse the man than the man start whining at him about it.]

Yes, in essence. Or, depending on how I wrote it down. You could behold a memory as if you were there, or you could simply feel the words as I felt them.

[ He tried! Which is more than Rhys expected so colour his pleasantly, if confusedly, surprised c: ]

.....Can I read it?

[He looked down at what he was writing currently. Unfinished, and.... a bit too personal to be sharing with the human. Tales of old friends, of his culture from the perspective of his wild youth. Not something he really wanted getting out to the human who would no doubt enjoy it too much.]

Not this one.

[He rifled through his notes until he finds one he felt was more suitable for sharing, and offers it to the human. A simple description of the Temple of Mythal as he had left it. At first it would look like little more than fancy squiggly gibberish written in pretty green ink, but the meaning would start to sort itself out and images would play through Rhys' mind as though he were recalling a memory.

It is a memory of an ancient temple, there is a bittersweet sense of familiarity with it, it is both a comfort and a reminder of what once was. There is an undeniable beauty to the place, even if it was little more than a ruin. Some of its wealth remained intact after millennia. And it ended with the greatest treasure of the Temple, while it wouldn't look impressive at first glance, the feeling surrounding it was conveyed through the memory. There was a hunger to it, and being from Abelas' perspective, whispers could be heard at the back of Rhys' mind. It would sound like nonsense to him, but the meaning was translated, an understand of what the odd pool was. The power it held within it, and the unyielding compulsion to protect it. The memory ends with a wrenching sense of loss.]

Edited 2017-09-08 03:10 (UTC)

[ And it's all...gorgeous. Rhys doesn't have another words for it as the scenes, thoughts, feelings, sensations all roll through him before he really has a chance to prepare. One moment he's trying to make coloured lettering out on the paper and the next thing he knows it's all bled away into an incredibly vivid, immersive experience.

For just a moment he gets lost in it, probably look rather silly standing there with a totally unprepared look on his face, but he can't help it. Rhys hasn't need anything like it in his entire life. The lushness of the foliage, the stone structure and the sheer naturalness of the surrounding area... he's used to the sterility of space stations where the only plant you'll find are potted and trimmed into perfect geometric shapes.

The whispers are less of a positive experience for him, but the vision and memory ends before he can get in too deeply to it and Rhys hardly notices as the paper slips from his hand and he brings it up quickly to his head, staggering slightly. ]

Hhhhhoooooly crap, where'm--

[ he's just a little disoriented here, give him a second. ]

[Abelas was fully expecting the human to be disoriented. He had shared this writing with on other, a human he found far more competent, and she too struggled with it. While he couldn't understand it completely, the lack of such an immersive trait of human writing often left him with a headache if he read it for too long.

He managed to catch the page before it fell, and neatly organized it back with the rest of his notes.]

You have not moved.

But I was--you were... Ohhh man.

[ Rhys pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a moment to sort himself out, clearing his throat a little and takes a few breaths. The disorientation fades quickly, but it still leaves him feeling odd, a little dysphoric as he squints over at Abelas and brings his hand away. ]

That was. Sufficiently weird. Cool, but weird.

[He could hardly be offended by the statement, of course the human found it odd when he was used to reading nothing but static words on paper.]

Tis how we wrote in days of Elvhenan. I admit it is no great work of art, but my writing is efficient at the very least.

[He wasn't certain if that was a blessing or a tragedy, would a human be able to handle some of the more poetic writings of his people? Perhaps his simple and blunt manner worked in their favor in this case.]

What, you mean that place? No way, it was...I mean it was pretty gorgeous man. Plants and trees like that aren't exactly common in outer space. Oooor the planet I got stuck on before coming here. Aside from the freaky voices it was actually...pretty picturesque.

[ Rhys would vacation there :D ]

Tis the Temple of Mythal. I was raised there, and spent my life serving Mythal. Though back in those times the vegetation had not grown so out of control.

[The mention of the voices has him glancing over at the page, wondering if he should write the bit of information provided him from the Vir'abelasan out, or at the very least alter it. He had lived with it for so long he had forgotten others may not appreciate the experience.]

The voices did not come from the temple itself. Not in the way you think anyway.

They weren't? [ No, wait, he's misremembering that isn't he? ]

There was that...pool, right? In the middle of everything.

[ This is really, really weird because he remembers it liek it was him there but it was a memory of Abelas's and...yes. Confusing. ]

Yes, the Vir'abelasan, the "Well of Sorrows".

[Now how to not only explain the well, but the effect it had on him as well.]

When those of my people grew weary of life, we would go into a deep slumber called uthenera. When such a time arose for the high priest of the temple they would undergo a ritual to pass their knowledge on through the well.

And those who entered Mythal's service would drink from it. In doing so we gained their knowledge, but also bound to their will to serve Mythal. Any order she gave, we would be compelled to follow.

The voices you heard is something I hear regularly. It is my predecessors sharing their knowledge with me.

Oh. That's...

[ A little creepy? That feels rude to say. I mean it sounds kind of sketchy to give away your willpower to something like an all-powerful being (if that is what Mythal is?), but the well also sounds pretty important for Abelas as a culture thing. He should probably be a little less douchey about that than he normally would be. ]

...Unique. Do you uh, still hear those voices? Or wait I guess not, since all of our universes were...

[ WAIT SHIT ]

Uhhh. Yeah.

how can someone so cool be such a negative nancy!!!

a thousand years stuck with the world's most depressing job

he was a tax attorney wasn't he

More like boss of a bunch of shut-ins stuck while protecting a haunted puddle

a haunted puddle...............

supposedly had the knowledge of all his former bosses in it. Y'know last bit of his culture and all

it had ALL the grouches is what you're saying

well, yes, but they leaned more towards the angsty side. It WAS called the Well of Sorrows.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject