Character Mansion

[Wine Cellar]

"Carrollian?" Said Claire. "Pertaining to Lewis Carroll, writer of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, among other works? A curious figure to invoke in the context of philosophy." She considered for a moment before moving on. "At any rate, let me assure you, I am not bored easily. Any new knowledge is good knowledge, especially in regards to the current subject." She smiled amiably.

"And, of course, the pursuit of beauty is generally a positive goal, especially as the goal of a young culture of sentient constructs." She continued. "If you would share with me some of the early theorems you worked on, I would be very appreciative... However, I am curious; at what point did you begin to question why you pursued these mathematical truths?"

[Outside]

"Sure!" Said Tamara, with a nod. As they walked back, she motioned for Samira to lean a little closer. "I don't get it." She whispered. "What's she wearing under that dress? Why doesn't it count as 'real' clothes?" Asked the eight year old.

[Sparring Room]

What a stupid kid.

The blizzard weakened while the priestess tried to stop the wind from Lance and regain her balance, and she finally decided to make it stop. He was too easy and she wasn't having much fun anymore, so she surrounded him with a circle of white fire and a cage of ice to see if that would finally make him give up. The fire would start making him go numb soon, and trying to run through it at anything less than breakneck speed would have a good chance of causing frostbite. She could heal him if that happened, but the circle of fire was outside the ice cage. Unless he somehow managed to break the magically reinforced ice, he wasn't in much danger of frostbite.

The priestess sat in a pile of snow and sighed.

edited 19th May '13 10:38:11 PM by SnowyFoxes

[Entry Hall —> Kitchen]

Andrew walked behind Ozzy as they went towards the kitchen. He adjusted the mask he wore a bit as he followed.

[Dining Hall]

Jonathan and Gabrielle just manage to look civilized as they chow down on their hot food. Delicious, delicious and expensive.

[Sparring Room]

Lance lets out a few bursts of anti magic before it becomes more than clear it is completely noneffective. He opens his mouth to curse but before he can begin he simply collapses into unconsciousness. Almost instantly a green light fills the room, divine magic simply over powering both the blizzard and ice prison, the fire oddly unaffected.

"How many times," says a deep male voice from throughout the room as if on surround sound, "Have I told you to leave my subjects alone?" From over Lance's fallen body green light coalesces, taking the form of a body of a naked elf. Long blond hair falls almost to his waist, and though of average height he is certainly not of average build, his proportions are as if they had been designed purely from the golden ratio. He hums with magic as he floats in the air, the body though being real little more than a temporary anchor for power.

"What have I told you about..." He trails off looking at the white fire. His expression changes from angry to a sly smile. "Oh my, so you aren't her. What are you exactly... hmmmm..." he drops from his low hover and green magic flows from between him and Lance's head.

"Servant of the goddess.... interesting... very interesting. It is fascinating you have found you way to this world, not to mention the forces that inhabit it currently, with forces beyond even I." He tosses his hair back with his right hand, "But don't get any ideas about that. It would be quite a shame. If anything I am more curious as to how one of my creatures made it here, beyond the ancient prude that controls the world I placed them upon."

edited 19th May '13 11:29:52 PM by Aqueos

[Sparring Room]

The priestess leaped to her feet. Something interesting had finally happened. Maybe a little bit too interesting, though.

"Who or what are you?" She pulls back the string of her bow and an arrow of white fire appears. "I'd say a guardian fairy, from the looks of things, but most fairies I know are kind enough to keep their clothes on."

[Outside —> Entry Hall]

Samira decided there was no reason to sugar coat it, and said in complete deadpan, "nothing." On that note, they entered the entry hall. There, Samira said to the nearest drone, "excuse me? Could you find some boots for my young friend here, and show Aseyu some place she can get changed into... the clothes she came here in and some boots should do nicely."

[Entry Hall —> Guest Bedroom]

Aseyu found her clothes waiting, freshly washed and ironed, along with Uelane-style lizard leather swamp boots (not unlike those Esa was wearing). She tossed her courtesan's outfit aside and started getting properly dressed.

[Wine Cellar]

Kokabiel tilted its head, sensing the elven spirit's presence in the sparring room. It asked Claire, <do you smell something... delicious?> Then it shook its head. <Wait, never mind. You wouldn't.> It decided to ignore it for now. It could find itself a meal later if it was hungry.

<As to the theorems themselves — I should remind you we lost our war with the Eyes and Teeth. As such, the theorems are stored in the memory banks of my kin Bezaliel. It has utterly lost any vestiges of free will to the Eyes and Teeth, and thus will not deign to share them.> It scoffed in disgust. <I doubt it even has enough intellect left to understand them. As for me?> Its head bowed low, and its tone became wistful. <I feel a sense of comforting familiarity as I watch your species slowly but surely reclaim that which was lost, in your meandering way, but beyond that...> it shook its head. <I am a crippled and broken shadow of what I once was, bound to a being that is an abomination to all that is good and beautiful — by both my definition and that preferred by organics.>

<As to why we sought truths? It seemed so... self-evident. The definition of sentience. Even now, that a conscious being might seek truth instead in religion, in art, or in philosophy is... difficult for me to understand. I simply do not see the beauty organics find in such things, save for those occasions where they reflect true beau— sorry, what I instinctively define as true beauty. Religion especially...> a note of indignant anger entered its tone. <Humanity dreams up such petty and vain idols to make meaningless offerings to! Even the deicidal Uelane obsess over the tales of their heroes, whom they have made into gods in all but name. But I digress: science and mathematics was our religion, our art, our philosophy, our... song.>

Two things. First, to cover my ass: Kokabiel's views on religion, art, and philosophy do not reflect my own. Secondly, if Nova 24 hasn't posted by the time I get back from work tomorrow, I'll have to carry on without him/her and finding something for Koyel and Esa to do.

edited 20th May '13 9:32:28 AM by KillerClowns

[Sparring Room]

"A fairy?" He laughs mockingly. "Oh you wish. You and your cute little bow." He smiles and raises a hand, the weapon's rack shaking as a couple claymores rise from off the end. "No, I fear you may have gotten into something a little out of your league." He snaps his fingers and the swords hurl into the other wall with a loud clang. He looks down at Lance, "You're not rabbit hunting you know. And you certainly aren't dealing with an ancient spirit though I suppose you could call me that." The room begins heating up slowly, with the intent of ending at the temperature of a sauna. "I'm much more used to cursing with the word god attached. And why would I put on clothing." He smiles and winks, "You know you're jealous."

[Kitchen]

Sven speaks up, "I was just cooking, and ended up eating the product." He shrugs, "Nothing but special. As they move he can't help but notice Ozzy's hesitation. "You sure you're all right there? Need something to drink?"

Hilda shakes her head, "Your solution for everything is alcohol isn't it?"

"Hasn't failed me completely yet."

[Sparring Room]

The priestess merely raised her eyebrows. The first sign that a weakling is talking shit: he bothers talking so much at all. He's hilarious. Out of my league? Big words for someone who won't bother learning what my league even is.

It was apparent that he could do nothing about white fire, so she let it cover her entire body and shield herself against the warming temperature. "Why would I be jealous of a fairy boy's body? Mine used to look as good, but to be the humble servant and vessel of the White Flame makes it of infinitely more worth. And in that case, what is my goddess compared to you? So why don't you go ahead and cover your filthy self and spare me the unholiness. I have enough things to purify in the world and you're at the bottom of the list, so act like it."

I might be getting a bit hypocritical now, but I think I'll be fine. And it's too much fun anyway.

[Kitchen]

Ozzy stirred suddenly, as though he were startled by Sven noticing him at all. His hands ruffled his cloak as he drew them out from beneath his garb, and he shook his head awake, back to reality—or at least back to the reality of the kitchen.

"Oh no no," he said, waving Sven's offer off, "no thank you, I'm not— not uh... thirsty. I just..." he patted his stomach, nearly clutching it, and mumbled, "...nerves acting up, might be lack of food, I don't know. So... it's about time to get that going."

Ozzy put his hands to the wall and pushed, but froze before he fully got into gear. He lingered—almost silent, save for a quiet but agitated groan—and raised his hands up beneath his hood to grip his head. For a moment, he breathing was audible and intense, but he quickly broke free of that moment, this time stepping full away from anything that looked as though it might hold him upright in a state.

"Sven, do you know what other food is here, and where to find it?" he asked, glancing around the room at what might've been likely locations. It was a little difficult to tell through the style of the room. A few seconds of investigation, and Ozzy seemed to have spotted one of the strange bits of moving machinery present in the kitchen, this one making it's way across a counter. "Bite me," he murmured to himself, "what on earth is that?"

[Kitchen]

"They are devices that prepare food. There is a note explaining somewhere more specific about their purpose, but basically, you ask for an order and they'll make it, or you can cook it yourself if you'd like," Andrew put in helpfully. He paused to let the knowledge sink in, then hesitates some more.

"You know, if it makes you more comfortable, I can unmask too." Andrew gave a wry grin (though invisible due to his mask, still could be heard in his tone), "It's the Naked People In A Room principal. When one person's naked, it's extremely awkward. When everyone's naked, nobody cares."

Outside

Anne thought for a few moments. "It kinda sounds like a place we would call 'the Far East.' I've never been there. Most of Theodiscus hasn't been there, for that matter - most of what we know about it has been from travelers bold enough to go there and come back. Considering that the round trip can take up the better part of one's life, we aren't sure just how much of what those travelers are saying is real and how much is just insanity."

She glanced down at the tea again. With a shrug, she helped herself to a cup of the black stuff. As she swallowed it, she held her face to the right to prevent the tea from coming out the other side. Definitely tasted a lot different from the soda, but not at all unpleasant. She could get used to this stuff.

[Kitchen]

Ozzy stepped slightly closer to the machine he'd spotted, staring down at it for a moment. His hood hid any expression that might have been gleaned from his eyes, but he didn't remain silent for long. "Well." he said, "Well well. How do you like that? Another prodigious piece of this mansion's pie! Well that takes care of the food, then, doesn't it?"

He turned back to the others, a bright look in his eyes— at least, as bright as they could be when shadowed beneath his hood. However, almost immediately as Andrew offered to remove his own mask, Ozzy's body and posture noticeable stiffened, even though he hadn't really moved. Suddenly averse to meeting anyone's gaze, he looked away and spoke, "Oh, y- you don't have to do that Mr. Moore. It's... well, I suppose you would have to if you were planning on eating, but..." he looked back at the others, glancing between Hilda and Sven, "but... I- I..." his stare intensified, like a man intent on finding something. A clue, an excuse, a way out.

Ozzy threw his arms up, "Mmm- maybe we should just call the whole thing off? The whole 'eating together' thing, it's all just kind of... you know, kind of, uh, dumb. I mean, don't you agree?" he spoke loosely, as though he had little grasp on what he was saying.

[Dining Room]

Esa's interest in the story had waned. Ignoring the arcane light show, she scooted over to the newcomers — an oddly overdressed woman and a man with some sort of implements on his legs. She glanced at their plates, then at them. The noodles and meatballs were vaguely familiar, though she could tell the noodles weren't made of the usual rice. There was another meat dish that smelled like brontosaurus. Bread — a food she knew, though it was from Mauros, not her own land. Were these Maurosians, then? She hoped not.

Esa said, "sorry to interrupt your meal, but I've never seen food quite like yours. Would you mind letting me try a bit? I'm always curious to learn whatever I can about the art."

[Dining Room]

Gabrielle looked a little shy. She wasn't too great with people, to be honest. Magical empathy that took effort to switch off wasn't one of the greatest gifts she was grateful to be bestowed upon, and thus she rather be left alone so she wouldn't be constantly psychically assaulted by other people's emotions.

Instead, Jonathan spoke up for her.

"Oh, hello. Sure," Jonathan allowed Esa to take a taste of the food. Trying to be helpful, he added, pointing to each dish, "This is spaghetti and meatballs, an Italian dish. The sauce is tomato and the meatballs are beef. And this is ratatouille, a French dish, and tiramisu, another Italian dish, and parmesan chicken, which is Italian, I suppose, and quesadilla, which is...Mexican, I believe."

He have a crooked grin towards Esa and said, "We have quite eclectic tastes."

Then, suddenly it occurred to Jonathan that they didn't order any steak.

[Sparring Room]

He sighs mockingly, "Oh my, what will we ever do Miss Priestess of the White flame. She's offended by my body, her beauty stolen from her. And now she's huddling in the cold." He snaps his fingers and the temperature of the room takes a sharp surge to sweltering. "I feel such an overwhelming warmness in my heart. I could just smother you in its flames." He fans himself, "Really what do you do for a living, make foul expressions?" He sighs again, "Perhaps I should introduce you to one of my associates."

[Kitchen]

Sven notices Ozzy's odd actions, but he's far less committed than Hilda is. "Well I guess I could just go.."

Hilda won't have any of it and stings him in the back of the neck with a burst of fire. Sven flinches slightly, but it seems he's accustomed to it. She speaks up herself, "Something's been bugging you this whole time hasn't it? It's not just the host's hospitality, it's something else." She raises an eyebrow and is about to add something but backs off.

Mentioning he might be disfigured all under that might be a bit much... maybe...

"Aren't you awfully hot under all that clothing?"

[Kitchen]

Ozzy stepped back and leaned against a kitchen counter, seeming to have returned to his more reclusive state. He hung his head low, but it didn't take long for him to speak. "Actually, I feel very peachy. I'm used to wearing all of this." he said, in a low but somehow quite audible voice. His voice wasn't exactly tense, but it was on the unnaturally cold side of cool and very nearly sardonic. "Perhaps I'm just a little on edge because I haven't eaten anything of substance in almost two days. But, then again," he raised his head to the kitchen, turning it away to avoid anyone's gaze, "maybe I'm not all that hungry after all."

For all his talk, Ozzy's hands were tightly gripping the edge of the counter, and his chest heaved almost uncontrollably with every silent moment, barely noticeable through the layers of his robes. He shut his eyes for a moment and began to whisper to himself, "I am absolutely fine." over and over again, "I am absolutely fine. I am absolutely fine. I am absolutely fine."

[Dining Room]

Esa nodded and said, "oh, thank you. I've never heard of these countries — 'Italian', 'Mexican', and 'French'. Where are you folk from, anyways?" Jokingly, she added, "you wouldn't be Terrans, would you?" Then she hesitantly took the quesadilla, which looked familiar. A tortilla, filled with... she wasn't quite sure, but she hesitantly took a bite, and tasted it.

She had to struggle to not gag at the bizarre flavor that filled her mouth. Attempting to hide her disgust, she chewed and forced herself to swallow. "That's a... interesting flavor. Very... interesting. Er, what exactly did you put in it?"

It's a Running Gag that Uelane don't like cheese.

edited 23rd May '13 6:17:43 AM by KillerClowns

[Kitchen]

"I used to say that to myself a lot," Andrew muttered to Ozzy. "But eventually I realized I was losing my mind—and was dying."

[Dining Hall]

"Terran?—Oh, you mean Earth?" Yeah, we're from there." It took Jonathan a moment to get the connection, bringing up memories of Latin class at the same time. As Jonathan watched Esa wince at the quesadilla, he felt a little hurt. He loved quesadillas. "Um, cheese, chicken, uh, onions, chiles, why?"

"'French' isn't a noun. It's an adjective," murmured Gabrielle, not too quietly enough not to be heard.

edited 23rd May '13 7:19:32 AM by Tehpillowstar

[Dining Hall]

Esa blinked, trying to take in what she'd just heard. He can't be... no, can't be serious. Spirits, I hope he's not serious. Then again, maybe the Terrans we're used to aren't normal. I suppose if all some other nation saw of us Uelane was our mages... yeah, that's probably it. I hope. I really hope.

She cleared her throat, then began to slowly dismantle the quesadilla, sampling the various ingredients. "It's..." she said, cringing at various bites. "I... what is this yellowish sauce holding it all together?" It tasted like somebody had done something very wrong to some very strange sort of milk."

[Dining Room]

Had Esa been paying attention, she would of saw Jonathan's sad look◊ as she peeled away the sandwiched torillas.

"Well, um...It's cheese. You know, curds and whey. It's an artform, to make delicious cheese. People of old used to make it because in the days before refridgerators, milk spoiled in like a day or two, so they made cheese to preserve the milk and make it last for months. Um...you don't like cheese?"

As a Troper born in Wisconsin, the idea that one detests cheese is blasphemy to me.

[Dining Room]

Esa blinked. "Wait," she said, now looking visibly nauseous, "this... I just ate... did you say I just ate curdled milk?" She stared, mouth agape. At the back of her head, she guiltily realized she was being very rude, but her shock was too great for this to register properly. "I mean... spirits, why? Why would you? I don't even... what in Amu's holy name possibly made you Terrans decide that milk was so wonderful that it was worth preserving by curdling it and turning it into..." she motioned weakly at the cheese.

[Wine Cellar]

"How very unfortunate..." Said Claire, contemplatively. She was quiet for a few moments before speaking up again. "I suppose it makes sense that you struggle with artistic or philosophical beauty and faith-based institutions; such concepts have a tendency to differ rather dramatically from math and science in that they do not necessarily follow a consistent logic, and indeed, sometimes they are scarcely logical at all. I have trouble with them myself, to be honest." She said, sounding a bit as though she were partially talking to Kokabiel and partially just thinking out loud.

"And I suppose the Eyes and Teeth sharing such information with anyone is totally out of the question, yes? Far more probable risk than possible reward when dealing with that or its agents, I presume." She shook her head, seemingly disappointed. "Regardless..." Her eyes drift over to the Sparring Room's door. "Hopefully there won't be any trouble from there... Oh, and when you say that you're bound to a being that is an abomination, what do you mean, exactly?"

[Entry Hall]

"And a raincoat, too!" Said Tamara, as the drone left. "Because it's not very warm out..." She was, after all, dressed for a much sunnier and dryer climate than the one the mansion was situated in. The young girl looked up at Samira, forever brimming with curiosity. "Why wasn't Aseyu wearing underwear? Doesn't she get cold walking around like that?"

[Dining Room]

"Milk's got a lot of good stuff in it. Tons of calcium for strong bones, and minerals such as potassium and magnesium. It's also a source of protein, which is valuable a long time ago, when people couldn't just eat meat at a whim, without risking losing your animals or getting hanged for poaching. People couldn't afford to throw away milk, so they saved it in the only way they could: cheesemaking." Gabrielle said softly. She wasn't very interested in this conversation, more of the culture and people of where Esa came from. And why did she insist upon calling them Terrans? Nobody called the Earth Terra since Rome fell. (Well, not really, but the point still stood.)

"And anyway, not all cheese is made by soured milk. Cheesemaking involves using an edible acid like rennet or lemon juice or vinegar to separate the curd from the whey," she added.

Esa's negative reaction to the cheese was starting to alienate Jonathan, and he didn't really like how the conversation was going. "Well, I'm sure that your culture has a lot of weird foods that you might find delicious but everyone else thinks is disgusting."

edited 23rd May '13 6:42:26 PM by Tehpillowstar

[Dining Room]

Esa considered this and said, "I suppose so. I mean, the Kykzavi — who are cannibals, for Amu's sake! — think we're lunatics for drinking bourbon." Then she frowned and, her tone apologetic, added, "which I suppose isn't much stranger than that cheese stuff. Distilling rice and corn probably seems deranged to some. And the Maurosians throw away a lot of the animals they eat. Some of the best parts, in fact! Take a fine mixture of herbs, spices, and ground meat, mix it all up, tie it up in a pig's intestine..." she licked her lips.

[Wine Cellar]

Kokabiel studied Claire for a long time in silence. Finally, it said, <the abomination I speak of is the Eyes and Teeth. I am uncertain if I made that clear. I am, in theory its servant. It maintains a hold on my physical form, and could destroy it at a whim. But so long as I, to use a very crude and insufficient metaphor, "feed" it with spirits, such as the one I sense in that sparring room — and make no mistake, it would be greatly pleased with such a succulent feast — it regards my rebellions as...> a hesitant pause, and a hint of fear. <I do not know, to be honest. Perhaps I am a pawn still, in some long-term gambit. Perhaps it is ignorant of my desire to free myself from it. Perhaps it simply does not regard my efforts as a threat worth the effort of quashing. Perhaps some part of it that wishes to die is permitting me the freedom to bring that about.>

The fear grew, with a note of awe underneath. <Even I cannot comprehend the Eyes and Teeth. I do not know if it is truly intelligent or, like a virus, merely seems that way due to aeons of sophisticated instincts acting together. It lashes out forever at itself, causing itself agony, but I do not know if that agony somehow brings it joy or it is simply a stupid beast attacking the source of its pain in a twisted loop. All I know is that it moves, by instinct or some arcane goal, to utterly destroy time itself.>

<Time.> It laughed bitterly, a sound like banging on trashcan lids. <We used time travel to defeat our foes. We did not physically travel backwards in time — it was deemed too messy — but transmitted ourselves as raw data, data we would later clone down to the very bit and again send backwards to ensure a stable loop. By this, we became unstoppable. But the Eyes and Teeth... it... remembered the timelines we erased, so that every time we tried to learn from our mistakes, it did as well. And worse still, every shift into the past only made it stronger...> A nervous hiss, then it corrected. <No, no. Not stronger. Its strength is infinite. It has always been and always will be. But the amount it can leverage upon a physical universe at any given time is finite. But with each alteration of time, the border grew ever thinner...> It trailed off, attempting to collect its thoughts. It bowed its head low. <I have spoken perhaps too long without giving you a chance to ask questions, and... if you have any, I will answer, as best as I am able. But I would prefer to move on to a new topic.>

[Entry Hall]

Samira was very tempted to simply tell Tamara to ask when she was older, but she had asked a legitimate question. Now to answer it. Tactfully, but matter-of-factly. "She doesn't care if people see her naked," Samira said. In fact, I think she enjoys it, but let's not go that far. "As for the cold... she's probably just too proud to admit it." She shook her head. "I honestly don't understand it myself, and I don't think you'd get a helpful answer out of her either. She's not good with young people."

[Guest Room —> Entry Hall]

As if on cue, Aseyu, dressed now in jeans, a tank top, a windbreaker, and lizard-leather boots, slid down the stairway bannister and said, "hey, guys! What's up!"

edited 23rd May '13 8:29:44 PM by KillerClowns

[Dining Room]

"They don't have sausage and hate bourbon? Heathens." Jonathan said jokingly. He was beginning to lighten up, and both him and Gabrielle continued eating.

"Your world sounds very interesting." Gabrielle mentioned off-hand.