 |
| Register | Login | |||||
 |
Main
| Memberlist
| Active users
| Calendar
| Chat
| Online users Ranks | FAQ | ACS | Stats | Color Chart | Search | Photo album |
|
| | ||
|
| Register | Login | |||||
|
Main
| Memberlist
| Active users
| Calendar
| Chat
| Online users Ranks | FAQ | ACS | Stats | Color Chart | Search | Photo album |
|
| | ||
| 0 users currently in Story Forum. |
| Acmlm's Board - I3 Archive - Story Forum - Sacred Seas of Sibylea |
New poll |  |  |
| Add to favorites | Next newer thread | Next older thread |
| User | Post | ||
Koneko Plasma Whisp                     Since: 11-17-05 From: Tartarus. We get faster internet than you. Last post: 6285 days Last view: 6284 days |
| ||
| (Alright, this is a private thing between my friend Zephi and I. Please don't post here if you're not either of us. If you'd like some clarification about some aspect of Sibylea, feel free to send either of us a PM, 'cause I'm too nice and I answer questions.)
"Today is the 117th day of our certainly doomed voyage. Against all of my morose predictions, we have managed to catch sight of land, and are now headed directly towards it in hopes that we may procure some food other than fish, and possibly figure out which miserable, forsaken hellhole in particular we've stumbled upon. Everia remains impossible to get angry at, despite the obvious fact that it was her choice to cut across the ocean instead of following reliable and trusted routes. I have no idea what the currents are in this region, and as far as I know it's never been mapped, but until recently she's been confident that she knows where we are. The sight of land, which was a joyous occasion for most of the crew, has been the source of much brooding on the parts of Everia, the captain, and myself. There are no islands in the middle of the ocean, so: Where are we, really? The waters are so still that there is barely any current at all, so I have no hope of inferring our location. We are purely at the mercy of whatever gods take interest. Still, there is comfort. This island may very well bring about a change of fortune for our frankly incompetent navigator. New horizons always offer the possibility of positive change. We're certainly due some." Kinst pauses for a moment, staring off at the jungle-covered strip of land in the distance. Pensively twirling his quill, he muses that this journey must certainly be taking a toll on his personality. A few months ago he never would have written “miserable forsaken hellhole” in any seriousness. Yet there it was, sprung as though from the mind of another man. Perhaps that was part of the beauty of the pen: The words written are immutable; they remain on the page unchanged until the paper they rest upon is destroyed. Perhaps many years from now someone will read his journal and marvel at the inadequacy of navigators in the old days. It would be so odd if he became part of a story for children. He sighs. Such is history. He reads over the page again, then carefully closes the green-bound book. Returning his pen and ink to their proper compartments, he stands up, stepping swiftly to the edge of the Ryonid. He leans out over the side, taking in the slight salty breeze, the brilliance of the morning sun playing across the clear tropical water, and the comfort of the languid clouds. The sea is ever beautiful and simple in its complex subtleties, and complex and subtle in its beautiful simplicity. A thing of such duplicity yet manages to bring him calm and stay his worries. He turns back to face the ship, resting his back on the bulwark. He takes in the full view of the large cargo ship, from the prow to the stern, and feels a great admiration for the strength of such a vessel, to be able to cross the wide oceans without fear of what goes beneath, humanity's seemingly complete mastery over the wind and the waves. We're only constrained by our silly disputes, the way we fight amongst each other. The way money makes the world go round. And money, as everyone knows, is not in the habit of falling from the sky. And neither is food, as his stomach reminds him grumpily. Is it really almost noon? He steps across the deck and into the interior of the ship, welcoming the shade offered by the timbers that moments ago he stood upon. He walks with a swiftness towards the kitchens. Everia is making lunch today, right? She could easily have taken a job as a cook. If only she had, instead of going the route of the overconfident navigator. He shakes his head; no use worrying about that now. There is food to be eaten. He takes a few tentative steps into the galley, catching sight of fish (it's always fish) and of Everia. He takes an instant to admire the way that, even in the sweaty midday torridity, she has kept her Academy dress and blouse, both white as doves, clean and neat, though the sleeves have been rolled up. Her straight, slightly uneven hair is like the heart of midnight, but it's merely an illusion caused by the galley's dearth of light sources; truly, it's just a deep brown. Her three-section staff is tied to her back, a habit that once made Kinst uneasy but that he has since adapted to. Wooden sandals complete the picture, but at that moment the instant ends and Everia notices him (cooks always notice). (edited by Koneko on 09-28-06 09:10 PM) |
|||
|
Zephi 0  Since: 02-15-06 From: EST Last post: 6302 days Last view: 6287 days |
| ||
| Everia glances from her planisphere to her map of Sibylea to her map of the stars to her notebook to her frying pan and back again. Something is definitely amiss with the situation... despite the fact that the fish among these waters are veritably delicious.
At the fyrisee of 127 sen south and farasee of 1 lysra 92 messet west, her readings of the moon Keiora had begun shifting subtly from where they should have been. Everia frowns. Discrepancies between predicted values of moon locales across the Celestine had increased fairly steadily, until, strangely enough, Niavu, Tsan, and Gidon were also grossly misaligned, while Keiora was... where it should have been? Everia totally doesn't understand why this would happen. Figures from the numerous reference books she had taken from the Academy had been calculated taking parallax, atmospheric shear, chronological reference, and all other factors into account, hadn't they? Everia sighs, idly flipping over the exotically pigmented fish whose scrumptious corpse brings gaudy teals, crimsons, and ambers to this small niche of the kitchen like spilt paint in an artist's cellar. She takes her hand off of the spatula, pulls back her bangs, and concentrates upon her notes once more. The unnaturally clear skies and still waters make Everia immensely suspicious. Late last night, when few of the crew had been awake to notice, she had conjured a beacon spell. She had noticed immediately that the light she had summoned refracted severely in the cloudless night sky. The exact angle had been impossible for her to determine, but it definitely had been there, and the possibility of visual deceit now is both frightening and exhilarating. “Light and sight,” Everia murmurs with an uneasy smile, poking the frying fish with the corner of her spatula, “Are our beautiful untruths, aren't they?” She drops the handle of the spatula and walks over to the kitchen's only window, which is a small circular one about five feet off of the floor. The crown star Aekria, which is rising to its pinnacle, bears down upon the still waters with searing ebullience. Everia squints her eyes to prevent being blinded by the shimmering mirror of the sea. “But the stars never lie, do they...?" She asks herself, "It was I who failed to understand.” It is a legitimate regret; she took on the job of navigator on the Ryonid thinking it would be an easy first job. After all, no more than four months ago, Everia had graduated third in her class from the Celestine Academy. But now they meander aimlessly across uncharted waters, all because of her fool decision to cut straight across Vynsaa Shom. Everia frowns, feels her skin itch with a nagging, frenetic doubt, and then shakes her head vigorously. Doubt isn't going to bring truth. Ah, but it is a tad hot, and the sleepily ambling breezes above deck give Everia no respite down in the kitchen where the oven makes her want to dunk her head in ice. She settles for dunking ice into water and then dunking that water into her mouth, while stifling the fire since the fish is nearly ready. As the simmering fish quiets with the softer fire, Everia notices the familiar rapid stride of her fellow navigator Kinst, a veteran of The Rain, coming from down the hallway, striking softly like the first drops of a gentle drizzle. As he enters, the pitter patter growing heavier, Everia watches him enter the doorway via his reflection in the nearby window. It is wavering and indistinct, but she can discern his soft, azure eyes themselves discerning the fish she had prepared. Those eyes are like rippling windows into the soul of a blank face so angular that it appears like a finely chiseled stone draped in skin. Despite the heat, Kinst is wearing the same attire he appears in during cold nights: plain blue pants tied with a nondescript belt of tan linen, a pair of boots the hue of alpine needles partially obscured by the pants, and a shirt of similar hue underneath a vest that was the color of the most fathomless oceans. Well... whether or not he admits being so, under such heavy clothing, Kinst must feel irritatingly warm. Everia turns around and smiles, "Hey, Kinst, here for food I suppose? Well," She turns back to the counter and opens a cabinet overhead for a cup. Finding one, Everia spins it in her hands and places it on the table, allowing it a glass clink, "It's not ready yet, so would you like some ice water while we wait?" "Absolutely," Kinst replies, the lines of his lips twitching into a barely perceptible smile. He really should do that more often... but, nope, he's much too stoic, despite his being a member of The Rain. "You know, there's probably a vast market for some way to make these sea voyages more comfortable." He approaches the window steadily, looking out at the sea. "You'd think by this point in history, we could find some shelter from such accursed heat." "I guess Aekria just loves us so," Everia grins, filling the glass with ice cubes and water, then handing it to Kinst, "Still, you're right. Expending magical energy to create ice and cool winds is such a waste." "Yes indeed," Kinst receives the glass with a grateful nod, then takes a pensive sip. "We humans are such vain, greedy creatures, don't you agree? We're ever seeking after luxury, even when we chide each other over our wastefulness." He raises the glass to his eye level and stares at the cubes within, mumbling, "Even my best works of ice are used once, then melt away." Is he always so lost in critical musings on the natures of existence and mankind? Not always, but quite often, as Everia observed ever since she met him quite a few years ago, before she had become a certified navigator. She always felt slightly awkward speaking with Kinst because of his tendency to subtly aggrandize the task at hand into an overarching picture. Oh well, one cannot always choose her co-navigators, and interesting conversations every once in a while aren't so bad. "All existences," Everia shrugs, "Can never be truly 'created' or 'destroyed'... at least, that's what I learned at the Academy." Finding that Kinst is still gazing out the tiny window, Everia sighs and turns back to the pan, finding that the fish is ready. "We merely change..." Everia mutters, and then continues clearly, "And this existence here is ready for eating!" Kinst turns, a smile creeping across his face once more. "Already? I had resigned myself to a horrible fate of starvation," He jokes, "But then the exotic prismatic fish was delivered unto my table by the angel of ice water and stargazing." Everia blushes and frowns simultaneously yet imperceptibly as Kinst drinks another mouthful of water, leaning against the wall, then continues, "An icecube may be only for an instant, but the memory of a good meal is forever." Everia doesn't reply immediately, but procures a knife from a nearby drawer and with it swiftly slices the cooked fish into a multitude of pieces. She slides the pieces onto several small plates, and then takes a pair of chop sticks from the drawer. This done, Everia takes a plate in one hand and makes for the door of the kitchen. Then she stops for a moment and turns around. "Memories are sublime," Everia nods, "But the future... is so much more exhilarating, isn't it? I'm... sorry about my misnavigation, but... maybe a new constellation awaits us." Everia sighs and gives a wry smile, "I'll be on deck." (edited by Zephi on 10-08-06 09:54 PM) (edited by Zephi on 10-10-06 03:14 PM) |
|||
|
Koneko Plasma Whisp Since: 11-17-05 From: Tartarus. We get faster internet than you. Last post: 6285 days Last view: 6284 days |
| ||
| Kinst nods vaguely at Everia as she leaves the room, then sets his glass down on the counter with a soft clink. Securing his own pair of chopsticks from the same drawer, he takes one of the nondescript plates, only to set it down again closer to the window. Leaning forward, he begins to eat his portion of the fish slowly and pensively, savoring each taste along with each thought.
It really is delicious. It tastes as fresh and sublime as a new spring morning would, if it could be caught and cooked into a meal. The future is even more exhilarating, eh? The memory of the fish will exist forever, but the fish itself exists only in the present. Kinst would far rather eat the fish than remember it. Isn't it lucky that he can do both...? Kinst is forced back into reality as someone enters the kitchen. Some indescribable change in the air of the room unfailingly identifies her as Captain Eysa. She traverses the room in a few quick steps, her bare feet making only the softest of sounds on the ship's planks as she takes her plate of fish and her chopsticks in a way that is by now habit among the crew of the Ryonid. She sets down her food next to Kinst and leans on the counter, mimicking his relaxed posture. "Hello, Kinst. Which avenue of thought do you traverse today? The futility of human existence, perhaps? Whether the means justify the ends?" She takes her first bite of fish with the same cloudlike aimlessness as she gives her jolly criticism of Kinst's apparent philosophical addiction. Kinst is struck, not for the first time, by how well-educated the captain is, despite her impressive muscles and seafaring instincts. "Now that you mention it," Kinst glances away from the window at the captain's sharp green eyes, "It had just occurred to me that there are fewer dichotomies around than people think." He chews another piece of fish in a contemplative manner, turning to take in the whole picture presented by the captain. Her short blond hair seems out of place in this poorly lit galley; it yearns as a flower does for the shining sunlight, without which it does not shimmer and appears drab and dull. Ever utilitarian, she's wearing a simple white shirt and nondescript beige pants, with little attention taken to the neatness of her appearance. She carries no weapon, but a mere glance at her arms suggests she would be less deadly were she to hold a sword. Captain Eysa is indeed an admirable woman, observes Kinst. She stands on her own two feet, holds this ship together with her own two hands and strength of will, and acts with a sureness that Kinst feels he could never hope to match. It also helps that she doesn't tire of his musings as quickly as Everia does. "Dichotomies... Is night the same as day, red the same as green, and lead the same as gold, merely because you have decided it? All humanity should thank you, for every poor man is as a rich man and every misfortune is good luck. Truly, a great miracle has been worked in my kitchen today." Eysa smiles sarcastically before consuming several more pieces of excellent fish. "Alright, so that one needs a bit more work," admits Kinst, "But I have a statement in mind now of such indisputable, indivisible truth that even you will be convinced of its self-evidence." Noting that the captain is still eating, though her eyes now affirm her curiosity, he continues, "May I go on? This fish is superb!" The captain thinks this over for a moment, then swallows the current bite of fish and gives a short burst of laughter. "Kinst, the realist. Incredible." She smiles, then stands up. Her plate is empty, as is Kinst's. "Well, I prefer the open air to a shaded kitchen. I'll be on deck, watching the sky. We won't make landfall until dusk, so don't die of boredom until then, understand?" She walks with characteristic authority out of the galley and presumably up to the deck. Kinst turns back to the window, remembering the stillness of the sea here. By dusk, eh? Not with the way the water is now, we won't. It might be a whole day from now at this rate. Well, that can change... Moments later he finds himself standing at the prow, gazing off at the emerald silhouette of the tropical island shimmering in the distance. That was wrong, too, wasn't it? The climate here is totally wrong for the region of sea, unless we are farther off course than I had thought possible. You can't have icebergs in the midst of rainforests, can you? He shakes his head. Too many mysteries. It'll take too long to get to shore by conventional means. Let's do something a little unconventional. He reaches out with his mind, feeling the shape of the water around the Ryonid. Smooth, soft, pliant water, without resistance to his magic. That's odd... This water shouldn't have been affected by magic before, unless there are people on this island. Well, perhaps this isn't a new frontier after all. Stranger things have happened. Either way, the water here is easy to change. He just has to reach out into the depths, and pull... The ship rises on an upswell of water, a wave forming at the stern. Keep it balanced, keep it steady, and move... And then they are as if flying through the water and the air. The sea tosses up no foam, and the ship leaves no wake, as the Ryonid has become a gentle blade, cleaving the water but leaving no wound. Kinst stares straight ahead, feeling the power of the wind on his face and the exhilaration of total control. This is a perfect moment, this is why he has become part of The Rain, this is how mankind is meant to travel. Soaring along waves, gliding over bright blue oceans, experiencing life at a perfect speed. And the perfect moment ends; the craft slows down slightly, its momentum still carrying it onwards without additional power. Kinst gives a deep satisfied sigh, and lies down on the deck, breathing quickly as he calms down. Now things will start to become more mundane, and he will be drawn back into reality. But just for a short while, there was a perfect moment. |
|||
|
Zephi 0 Since: 02-15-06 From: EST Last post: 6302 days Last view: 6287 days |
| ||
| When Everia was young, she loved the sea. But as she came of age, this love was forgotten for that of the stars... and now, as the Ryonid surges forward on the unnatural majesty of Kinst's spellwork, she isn't quite sure. The whistling whispers of quiet vapor are relaxing, the ripples and waves that they have yet to cleave are mesmerizing, the subtle scent of this exotic, clear reef-ridden water is intoxicating, and the mysterious mirage of the land ahead hypnotizing. But it all seems to her as the trappings of a beckoning dream, or a seductive sepulchre.
Light cannot find the most precious pearl in the sea, yet the most spectacular supernova always gleams brilliantly in its martyrdom, announcing itself ages after its death to the entire universe. Perhaps she no longer loves the sea now that she is mature enough to realize that the soul of it is deep, veiled, hidden by the indistinct mirror of the surface. Humanity revels in its supposed mastery of this mirror, upon it bartering life and death through seafood and swords. Yet the soul remains unseen. Or perhaps it is merely humanity that is blind. Everia chuckles silently as she leans on the rails of the Ryonid's forecastle. Such a thought is what Kinst would probably offer in response. Everia glances back; said contemplative co-navigator is currently lying idly with his back on the planks of the forecastle, not two meters away from where Everia is standing. He is watching the sky; she is watching the sea. They should really trade places. Everia considers speaking to him, since he probably hadn't noticed her even while coming to the forecastle to work with water, but decided not to. After wielding magic so, he is probably apt merely to make some witty inquiry of her. So Everia remains silent. The boredom is mind-numbing, and Everia longs to do something, analyze something, anything that matters, anything but stand, breathe, blink and watch. She would ask Captain Eysa for further orders, but her navigation failures do not lend her much confidence in speaking with her employer. In actuality Everia gives herself too little credit. After all, it was her guidance during the first week of the voyage that led the Ryonid to cross straight through the Faihaut Shom, an ocean most vessels avoid due to legends and hurricanes. Crossing safely clipped an entire month off of the time of their voyage. In her listlessness, Everia spins a simple light spell from her fingertips, muttering the incantation as well in order to conserve energy. After a bored twirl of her fingers, she directs a simple, thin beam of light of all wavelengths into the water. Or whatever this clear liquid is, because it is certainly not water; even Everia's naked eyes can tell that its index of refraction is noticeably less than that of water. It cannot be some natural discrepancy due to temperature or salinity as the difference caused would be negligible compared to something a human eye can notice. Everia knows in the back of her mind that her eyes are quite keener than the norm, but this doesn't dissuade her from her suspicions. Everia sighs. The blatantly inexplicable is especially tiring. "The sky is beautiful today, don't you agree?" Kinst mutters softly, his voice carrying satisfied, calm tones reminiscent of those of the sea before they began to accelerate. Everia blinks in surprise; Kinst rarely speaks after wielding magic heavily... why does he now? She glances upwards. The gentle gradient of the cobalt sky reminds her of the face of a massive stained glass lens, the sleeping cirrus whispers like slowly expanding cracks. Everia frowns. How foolish of her to take such a perspective. "It..." Everia inhales and sighs, "Yes, it is." Even a lie can be beautiful. A slight smile creeps across Kinst's face as he continues, "I wonder, do you suppose it has as much desire for magic as this water does?" He turns his head slightly to better observe her reaction. "What is your sky..." Everia mutters dryly, glancing back at him suspiciously. Was he playing some silly game? "That it would desire? The air is too fickle, the beyond impartial, and Aekria burns more intensely than desire ever could." Kinst rises to sit and replies, suddenly serious, "You're no fool, Everia. Neither of us have ever seen this kind of ocean before; for one thing, it's too easily alterable. I shouldn't have been able to do that and already have recovered. I suspect there is something similarly awry with the sky. I'd like to have a better understanding of what is going on around this island before we land on it, because this much magic could be... dangerous." "Magic?" Everia murmurs, kneading her brows. "Magic?" She blinks several times and then whips around to face Kinst, her eyes narrowed and filled with a frighteningly eager gleam. "Why did I not realize this earlier?" She utters with an exasperated grin, "Alright, Kinst," Everia exhorts, "Let us conduct... an experiment." |
| Add to favorites | Next newer thread | Next older thread |
| Acmlm's Board - I3 Archive - Story Forum - Sacred Seas of Sibylea |
| |
