gross
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Posts posted by gross
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Kinahen hummed with a gentle smile as sat in his home. "Ending the missive with The Maheral simply is while denouncing the Maheral's verdict... Peculiar. And you haven't even had your own trial yet..." He thought to himself.
5 -
The one eyed ‘indor gazed between the initial missive by the Phandelver, and their malaurir’s following after. His visage was passive, unsurprised. Yet, he scoffed dryly.
“I know I was ne that close with the late Maheral, but even I am hardly fond of her being tokenized like this, her own subjects hiding behind her... Such insolence.” The lanky man tskd, barely audibly, gaze still pointed downwards to the missives as he sat, body hunched over.
“It is heartwarming that elmalaurir is trying to unite our people like this... But these individuals have made themselves loud and clear... Who am I to correct them on word definitions? That is ne the class I was specified to hold...” He smirked briefly, his lips parting again to utter;
“They wish to have their fun…” He hummed gently after the fact, his long silver locks draping across his stilted shoulders as he leaned slightly backwards. Fixing his elbow against one of the countless swamp boxes beside him, supporting his chin against his leather gloved knuckles, his gaze darted around idly in the familiar coldroom.
“Malaurir Elervathar himself was the one to anoint Miss Azorella, ne? Perhaps they are willing to listen, to move forward, but with the rate we’ve been going... I wouldn’t hold my breath...” His gloved digits had found their way around the high collar that enclosed his neck, reminiscing of the seamy, yet all too recent sensation.
“If they refuse to hear the Silver Law or the blessed Diarchy... What else is there?” The man muttered softly, unable meeting his companion’s eyes.
2 -
Spoiler
Slim, leather covered digits curled in, before coming undone, only to coil back in again.
A single remaining orb, void of all color, scanned the missive that laid before him.
He sunk in his teeth.
As soon as he had taken heed of the familiar handwriting, he halted reading it any further in the square, heading to his secondary home. He set his trusty cane to rest against the sunlit sill, which the many flowerpots occupied. The faint clicks of the man’s heels trailed after him upon the wooden floor as he made his way to his table, seating himself beside his "kitchen" window. His restricted hands reached into his cloak, his shoulders hunching over slightly as he pulled out the piece of paper, carefully, doing his best not to crinkle or rip it. His delicate fingers lingered beside its rim as he took in the information, long lashes shading his attentive eye.He was alone now.
And he was glad for it.
Before they even knew each other, the one eyed despised him. He thought he saw raw, emotion driven, irrational noise escape through his stuttering lips. That he was incapable of seeing the bigger picture. That his- Naive, feeble mind was clouded by mere Fear and Loathing.
With time, Kinahen got to witness how he was hardly that simple of a mind, how he was always one step ahead, with the state’s best interest as his ultimate goal.
The peculiar one had never been too easy on him, ordering him to do ridiculously demanding tasks. He had given him high expectations, and held him up to them firmly.Yet it didn’t feel uncalled for. He was testing his dedication for the job.
After all, it was he who saw potential in the Athrilum, deeming him worthy of serving the Eternal Library. The only one. And he was incredibly grateful for such trust.
Sulraell was easy to misjudge. Yielding a pitiless, impersonal yet intense demeanor, perhaps it was no surprise people rarely saw past it, deeming him as someone to avoid.
Despite the man’s callous, hateful utters, Kinahen could recall countless occasions in which he had showed mercy, even care.
“Don’t fall, I am not l-looking forward to getting a new librarian...” The lanky Visaj would whisper to him, during their voyage through the Shifting Dunes.
The bar he had set for himself hadn't been any lower. Likely the highest of them all.He gave his all to the Silver Nation, devoting all his time for work, long before his ascension to the throne. The state's demand was relentless for the young man, but he didn't feel sorry for himself, refusing to be pitied by others and himself.
Clearly, he had the capacity to care for others, to form meaningful relationships.
...Perhaps he just chose not to engage in such luxuries.
Perhaps, it always came down to a choice,
between his personal desires and his devotion to the state.
He was fine slaving away, for elcihi.
Perhaps the reason Kinahen initially despised the other one so, was due to how akin they were.The shackled ‘indor rose up from his seat, leaving his last words, onto his table,
as a mnemonic.
He ought to remember to commission his dear friend for a portrait worthy of their late Sohaer, to place it in the Silver Library, where he had already left his mark with his tenacious work.
It was the least he could do.
The rays of sunlight escaping from behind the curtain onto the piece of paper, had died down.
Cold rain greeted the okarir’s pale, drained visage, as he made his way outside, accompanied by his cane once more. The cool sensation on his skin welcomed him.
It was familiar, yet unwarranted. Too soon. Yet, he had to move forward, even amidst of all this chaos, the lack of certainty and reason.
It was reassuring enough for him, the fact he had even been lucky enough to come in contact with it, this Beautiful Mind of his.
And no one can rob us the legacy he bestowed upon all of Haelun’or.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Primrose Moth takes shelter within the petals of the Evening Primrose. It seeks refuge from the light of day with its Host,
both unveiling their beauty only in the dark of the night, under the Midnight Sun.
These nocturnal lifeforms are nothing alike, yet have everything in common.
Both adorned brilliant, flagrant colors, yet hide away during the day, when they could shine their brightest.
Both considered unusual, frail, easy to violate... Yet they carry on,
almost out of spite.
The Moth has to depart eventually, to move on from the Evening Star that made it feel safe and content.But it is now tainted with the flora's pollen, bringing it along wherever its delicate wings make its path.
And it will never be able to shake it off.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SpoilerI’m naming all my bees after Sulraell and you can’t stop me.
6 -
The ‘indor halted on his path to the clinic as his remaining eye spotted the peculiar missive by the notice board. He narrowed his eye as he read, a gentle smile tugging on his lips as took in the news. “My my...” He uttered softly
3 -
Kinahen was checking his travel gear for likely the fifth time today. His long lashes flickered as blinked, pausing to adjust his packing order. He went on to place the unnecessary amount of books on the bottom of the case, then placing the stack of fresh, neatly folded garments on top. His medical kit had its own case entirely.
Flinching slightly, straightening his back as his remaining eye, void of any color, locked onto his storage chest. Creaking it open, his delicate, gloved fingers found their way to gently clasp at his Alchemist Shears. With a sigh of relief, he went on to enclose it carefully inside one of his shirts, folding it in its sleeve to secure it. He gazed to his door, before exiting it. He headed for the Clinic, as he wanted to take “one more thing”...
Indra frowned at the missive, scrunching up her nose.
“Fresh undergarments...?” She muttered under her breath, disgusted by the implication of this not coming as a given.
2 -
Kinahen stared the letter blankly, gloved fingertips lightly squeezing its edges. He took a shaky sigh, exhaling in a gentle huff. “...I wish she had told me...” He muttered softly, letting his eyelid fall shut.
4 -
Kinahen jumped awake from his slumber, haunted by the day’s incident. He was out of breath, suddenly in cold sweat. He hoped he hadn’t screamed in his sleep...
He couldn’t shake off the vision of the corrupted Seth jumping him, losing power over his own body, forced to watch his peer’s face stretch and morph into something so uncanny, straight out of his nightmares... Witnessing the brutal murder of Eriann, the sweet child he was tasked to protect...The immense weight his failure gave him no rest, no escape... He absently gazed to his left, noticing his injured arm was trembling. He slowly reached for it, grasping the stitched up, bandaged limb of his, squeezing it tightly, urging it to stop trembling. It didn’t stop. He squeezed harder, until red blotches started to form from beneath. He grit his teeth in anguish, afraid this wouldn’t be the end of it...
4 -
Kinahen frowned briefly at the missive, finding it quite distasteful. He didn’t like the implications of purity being so... Flickering. So weak, that interaction with others would be able to just eat it away. He viewed purity as far more unfaltering.
On top of that, he found the notion of the trouble coming from outside... Rather naive. Are we so unwilling to take responsibility, that we must blame complete nobodies on our troubles? As far as he was aware, the problems they had inside the walls hadn’t gone anywhere after the departure of the Kharajyrs...He sighed in frustration, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to take this for much longer.
1
Access to the Eternal Library
in The Great Library
Posted · Edited by gross
The Eternal Library
As published on the 12th of the Amber Cold, 1771
‘To receive knowledge, one must give’
As our prior Okarir’indor, the esteemed Rinaedith Seregon said.
As her former medi’ir, then tilruir’indor and current successor, I intend to uphold the values she set upon the bastion of knowledge we know as the Silver Library.
With this, I shall be updating the set of rules one must meet, to gain access to the knowledge we store within the Silver walls.
Fiction and Academical Wing
A Tome meeting the quota of:
– Any non-fiction subject or philosophy, merely excluding personal stories.
– A minimum of 9 Full pages of text.
– An original copy, Ne a copy of the original nor copy of a copy.
– The Claimant being the original Author.
– Written in proper, intelligible grammar.
– Exception: One can donate a work of fiction (or a personal story) and be granted access to the fiction wing alone. With that, the rules above remain.
Thaumaturgy Wing
A Tome meeting the quota of:
– Any subject relating to magic or the facets it recites, including reports of supernatural creatures, other dimensions and criticism.
– A minimum of 5 Full pages of text.
– An original copy, Ne a copy of the original nor copy of a copy.
– The Claimant being the original Author.
– Written in proper, intelligible grammar.
As an Alternative, one can:
– Be a non-voidal Magi that is trusted by the State. You can vouch for approval from the Diarchy, the Okarir’maehr or the Okarir’indor
– Be an Apprentice of a trusted, non-voidal Magi, and be over 20 years of age
– Possibly the most expeditious route of vouching for permanent access is by sending a letter to yours truly [gross#8889], entailing the basis for your supposed fidelity, and why you should be granted permanent access without a donation.
Take note:
– Unacceptable tomes will not grant you access. This quota also entails books that belong in the Restricted section, of improper nature.
– Oem’iian below the age of twenty rely on their Guardians’ access and supervision, thusly the responsibility falls to the Guardian in question.
– Oem’iian below the age of twenty are Forbidden from entering the Thaumaturgy wing.
– Your access can be retracted if you break the rules, or become a safety hazard for the Eternal Library.
Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya
Sohaer, Alaion Miravaris
Okarir’maehr, Illyara Valarieth
Okarir’indor,
[OOC: This is the Eternal Library’s discord channel https://discord.com/invite/KPDKWCN
This is where one can request door access, post their forum books and have them seen, make book requests and access useful, up-to-date announcements!]