Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Gentle lights drifted through an inky midnight blue atmosphere, air thickened so it resembled water more than the thinner element of breath. Magpie floated in the midst of this underwater garden. His feet grazed against a verdant floor of sea grass. Transparent ghostly fish swam in schools around him. In his hands, he practiced holding an orb of brilliance still.

It wasn’t true Brilliance for he had not crossed over. This was his Emean self, and as such, his skin was unblemished, without scars, and in every way, he appeared like a perfect statue of himself crafted by a maestro of romanticism. Magpie’s white-blond hair floated around him and though it didn’t have to, his halo remained above his head.

“Are you awake?” a familiar voice sounded beside him.

“My eyes are open,” he said simply - for they were, though they weren’t as ethereal despite the dreamscape around him. They were simple biqaj eyes of blue tint.

“You have been weary as of late,” Kiwi continued, firmly planted on the ocean floor as if the ethereal world around him held little sway over his body - though the slight undulating shift of his curly hair suggested otherwise. “If you wish to rest, I can return at a later time.”

He knew better than to mistake the man’s words for compassion. Magpie lowered himself to join the other dreamer at the algae-lined floor, the soft grass brushing against his bare feet. He shook his head, raised his hand, and snapped his fingers.

As if a drain set in the oceanic dreamscape, the watery atmosphere lowered away from the space above to the horizon below. His hair fell, wet, and framed his face. Bangs covered his brows and curtained his eyes from sight. He parted them, as to see still, though it likely was unnecessary and he admitted, “I am traveling currently. I have left Quacia.”

Kiwi’s bright stare offered no surprise, but it seemed to garner his interest, at the very least. “For what reason?”

Magpie clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He let his hands drop to his sides, and his bangs fell back to cover his eyes from view. The blond hesitated, then said, “Because I couldn’t stay there any longer.”

“More of your cryptic, personal reasons?” the other man mused with a raise of his brow.

“I doubt you’d care to hear all of it,” he answered simply, and Kiwi offered no argument. Magpie made a small gesture with his hand, a wave that ended in a particular formation of his fingers. What had been wet, on his person, instantly dried and his bangs were swept aside to reveal his face again. He said, “And how do you fare, Mister Kiwi?”

“Fine, thank you.” Nothing about his face or features suggested that he meant any of those words. “You seem to be quite comfortable in your own dreamscape, more so than even before.” It was a statement, not an invitation for discourse. “How have you been faring on your exploration of the Veil?”

After several mishaps here and there, with triumphs dotted along the way, Kiwi had eventually suggested Magpie attempt to trespass on his own. His reasoning at the time had been something along the lines of: “You have not killed yourself yet, so you should be fine on your own,” with an unspoken “Because I certainly did not offer you any help whatsoever.”

“Well,” replied Magpie in an almost mocking aloof manner. He added, however, “I have brought another dreamer to the Veil.” Kiwi’s eyes seemed to flash, though whether it was an an expression of surprised approval or acute disappointment was uncertain. “It seemed right to do so. ”

“I see.” Kiwi continued to stare, expression empty and unreadable. “And is it safe to assume this new walker will be an extension of your own network or was this an act of… charity?”

Magpie paused. It was obvious from the hesitation and the way his gaze flitted away, as the two men had spent far enough time to know such tells, that he wasn’t exactly sure. Still, he said, “He could be useful.”

“Could be,” Kiwi repeated in a calm and quiet murmur. “I suggest you make an effort to eliminate your doubt in that regard.” Semantics aside, it didn’t sound much like a suggestion. “I trust you branded him so as to keep track of his movements throughout Emea?”

“Uh…” Magpie’s eyes flashed a gentle green color that mimicked the grass at their feet. He folded his hands in front of him, fidgeted with a fingernail - the detail still manifested in his meticulous Emean form - and he said, “Branding... like… if I… I can find him through an object in the veil that is unlike the rest?”

Kiwi blinked. “You initiated a new walker without taking the most basic of precautions available?” A half trill later, the man seemed to find it appropriate to frown, the expression familiar in its complete lack of depth. “Do you… not know what branding is?”

“He was awake,” defended Magpie in an almost childish manner. “And so… there. It seemed…” Kiwi blinked again, clearly not following what he was trying to get across. “And no. I don’t know.”

“I… see.” It didn’t sound like he saw at all. “Then you are there with this man now? Travelling together?”

“N-no,” admitted the blond. “I don’t know… where he is.”

For a moment, it seemed almost as if the smaller man were going to show true frustration or, perhaps, even rage at Magpie’s now realized incompetency. Instead, after several trills of uncomfortable silence as he continued to stare unblinking directly into Magpie’s own eyes, Kiwi finally spoke. “You are reckless, Mister Magpie.” He sighed, air slowly flowing through his nose before he nodded once. “It is my mistake for assuming you would conduct yourself otherwise.”

For an unemotional slab of stone, Kiwi was obnoxiously condescending in his empty bluntness, whether it was intended or not.

“In the future,” Kiwi continued stepping closer and extended his hand outward and upward to gently grip Magpie’s chin with thumb and forefinger, “Make certain to brand any further progenies you will, no doubt, create.”

A soft, cool glow emanated from the space between Magpie’s lower lip and chin, the same place Kiwi had touched the first time they’d met. It lasted for only as long as Kiwi’s hand remained and quickly faded as his hand fell back to his side. “Like all dreamwalking, a brand is a matter of intention,” he continued, “You may mark mortal creatures or even physical locations within or without Emea. A brand provides us… guidance - a beacon to follow so that you might always find what it is you are looking for.”

“A beacon,” repeated Magpie in a thoughtful tone of voice. He touched his own chin, tapping his finger against it. “I see… that is how you are able to find me. And Miss Humming as well?”

“It is.”

Magpie surveyed Kiwi, in obvious consideration. He smiled slightly, then asked, “And may I brand you?”

Kiwi raised a brow. “If you believe you have need of it.”

“Would it not be good for me to be capable of finding you in return?” Magpie crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps I might visit your dreamscape for once.”

“It is not a matter of what is and what is not good,” he replied, “You have already proven you possess your own thoughts on the matter of dreamwalking. Whether it is an initiation or a branding, ultimately, you make the decision yourself. I am not here to tell you what to do, only to-”

“Call me reckless,” interjected Magpie.

Kiwi frowned again. “Only to offer you instruction.”

A small sigh escaped the biqaj. “Instruction with no answers,” he mused, not toward the other man in an accusatory tone but more to himself. He shrugged, then said, “And so… yes, I have learned a great deal from you, Mister Kiwi, I don’t intend to seem ungrateful. If… if this branding is something I should have done… before? Or after? Or.. during… how would I perform such a thing?”

“The same way you open a door or cross into the Veil or manipulate your own dreamscape,” he replied, as stoic and unhelpful as ever. If Magpie’s frustration bothered him, he didn’t show it. Not that he would either way, Magpie supposed. “I have found touch to be branding’s only constant.” Marginally more helpful.

“Touch,” murmured Magpie. He ran his fingers through his white-blond hair and glanced over the other man. “Then I shall… try with you. How will I know it has worked?”

“You will know,” was all the other man offered.

Magpie sighed again, exasperated but not in surrender. He frowned, a furrow in his dark brows, a familiar expression of determination. The tall mage stepped closer until he was directly in front of Kiwi. He reached out and took hold of the other man’s jaw. His palm gripped the underside. He stroked the smooth skin in recollection of the obsidian he’d seen underneath when Kiwi’s face had dissolved from Magpie’s slap several trials ago. His grip tightened slightly, thumb pressed in as if to test to see if he could bring the stone forward or not.

No brand occurred. No light rose from the spot. Magpie continued to frown and though he was to know, all he knew was that it wasn’t working. His other hand went to grasp at Kiwi’s shoulder. He firmly squeezed at the supposed-muscle beneath and lifted as if to fix the shorter mage’s posture. Still nothing. A low frustrated huff slipped past Magpie’s lips. The irises of his eyes had become a light ice-blue.

Magpie, as always, seemed too set in his understanding of the physical world. Emea and the abilities it offered, whether magic or dreamwalking, were ethereal. They were beyond the easily contained concepts of the physical world’s laws. Intention was all that mattered, and for all the power Magpie wielded, for all his latent talent and admittedly surprising skill, the pale haired etherist seemed averse to discovery. He wanted to be told what and how and when.

Mathias wondered, as those ice-blue eyes attempted to bore holes into his skin, if that was what Fiona saw in him. The thought quickly passed as his more rational reminders pointed out that while Magpie had his own shortcomings, certainly, he was not lacking drive nor desire. He had a purpose, an aim, whether he shared it with them or not, while Mathias did not; and that had been - and still was - Fiona’s greatest frustration.

For the time being, however, he had been tasked with educating the fledgling walker. Fiona was much more competent when it came to dealing with other people, but her expertise was needed elsewhere. Magpie was, for the most part, his responsibility, and rightly so as he’d been the one to find him.

By that logic, Mathias tried again. Any failing of Magpie’s was a direct reflection of Mathias’ own incompetence, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of maintaining such appearances. “Stop thinking.” Magpie thought too much. “Clear your mind,” he continued, voice calm and softer than usual. “Reach out and allow the brand to manifest itself.”

A powdery silver-blue blush crossed over Magpie’s face. The biqaj lowered his hands, his dark brows twitching upward in concerned hesitation. Likely allowing for a muddle of thoughts. He closed his eyes, however, following the instruction, and exhaled.

Upon his inhale, his eyes opened again. He stared into Mathias’ eyes. His expression relaxed – a rare look for the young etherist who often was split between either a great deal of contemplation or stubborn determination to act or behave in a specific manner. His hands eased, the grip on the abrogator’s jaw and shoulder lessening until his fingers lingered in a barely-there touch.

Magpie lowered his taller height, enough to get incredibly close to Mathias. He placed a simple kiss onto the shorter man’s lips. Chaste in touch, a warm light gathered from the pale pink flesh then transferred onto the connection with Mathias.

As the other withdrew, Mathias blinked twice then nodded once. “That does seem more appropriate to your… proclivities.”

“So now I’ll be able to find you, no matter where you are?” inquired Magpie.

“Generally, yes,” Mathias replied, a bit slower than usual. “Though… it is safe to assume a brand is not infallible. While I have yet to encounter any issues with my own, do not become over reliant upon them. I suggest you continue keeping tabs on those you are able to and try to avoid marking others without good reason.”

“Good reason?”

Always clarifications. It was as if Magpie had been captive for years, a slave to the minds and wills of men stronger or greater or more terrible than he. That, or he was merely curious to know what Mathias considered a “good reason”. Either way, he wasn’t certain how to properly explain the concept of common sense in relation to Emea and their shared ability to traverse it. “Whatever reasons spurred your choice to initiate what I can only assume to be a stranger,” he began, staring just shy of Magpie’s chin for lack of desire to crane his neck and meet his eyes, “Consider a ‘good reason’ to be twice that.” He paused, considering. “Maybe thrice.”

Magpie stared down, at the emean ground between them. He hummed, then nodded. The blond asked another question, in a quieter tone of voice, “Do you have… many people or places branded?”

“Many?” Mathias clarified, brow arching slightly in consideration. “No.There are only you, Miss Humming, and a few others.”

“I see. Is there anything else I should know about… any of it?”

“Are you referring to dreamwalking as a whole or the others with whom I divide my time?” His turn to ask for clarification, Mathias didn’t see the parallel at any point.

Magpie fidgeted - he seemed to do so almost constantly whenever he wasn’t in complete control of a situation. Even then he still had his ticks. His hands crossed over each other and his fingers scratched at their corresponding digits. He turned away, then, and walked a short distance away. “I won’t apologize again, with you, but there’s so few books to read about this and I try to follow my instincts. Try to simply feel my way around. But then that leads me to do things like initiate that man, and to sever the heads of dreamers. How am I meant to discern which instincts of mine are correct here and which are… or not correct, Mister Kiwi-” he said as if almost to head off an expected response and continued, “But preferable to the endeavors of you and Miss Humming. I don’t seek to cause trouble.”

It was clear to Mathias, at some point - perhaps even throughout the entirety of his informal tutelage -, Magpie had misunderstood. “Is that what you believe you have been doing?” He asked, arms folded and grey-green eyes bright with curiosity. “Causing trouble?”

“Ha-haven’t I?” returned Magpie with a skittish glance of his blue eyes. “You seem so…”

“Stone-fucking-dead?” Mathias calmly offered a phrase out of Fiona’s handbook. She tended to refer to him as such more often than not.

A laugh escaped Magpie. He placed a hand over his mouth as if to block any further laughter that might also wish to sound. The first echoed in the dreamscape. He blinked, then said, “Not how I would put it.”

“I would think not,” Mathis nodded, a soft, thoughtful sigh in his voice. “Very few people share Miss Humming’s… unique vocabulary.” Eyeing the other man who was now visibly relaxed from before, he continued in his usual empty voice. “Mistakes - those that you survive - are crucial to understanding both one’s own limits and limits of those around them. When we were together, was there ever a moment in which you truly felt our collective abilities would not be enough to overcome the situation?”

Magpie set a hand loosely at his chin. He frowned and stared at the grass as if it would provide the answer for him… then he shrugged.

“That…” Mathias began, speaking a bit slower for Magpie’s benefit, “Was not rhetorical.”

“I suppose so,” answered Magpie in a begrudging voice. “But only in short moments where you proved me wrong soon after.”

An acceptable answer. “I am not certain what sort of… education you have had nor what it is you expect in those who provide,” Mathias placidly continued, “But if it has been unclear… your progress is exceptional and while you are, undoubtedly, reckless-” he raised a brow, “-recklessness is not something you should immediately conflate with “causing trouble”. You may, at some point, wish to proceed more… judiciously, but nothing you have done thus far is anything beyond… surprising.”

He paused, considering for a moment. “Well, perhaps, beyond ‘mildly concerning’ in the case of our rogue walker, but, as you recalled earlier, it felt as though it was the… ‘right thing’ to do?” Mathias shrugged, shoulders just slightly rising and falling. Magpie looked at him, opened his mouth, then shut it. Mathias nodded. “Your judgement is your own and has yet to get you killed. I do not have any reason to assume it is anything but sound.”

“Thank you, Mister Kiwi,” said Magpie in a clear voice. The biqaj added, “I sometimes cannot discern what you think of me or if… er… how you feel about such matters unless you tell me. I have never known anyone so…” he trailed off, though it seemed he knew what he wished to say but merely unwilling to say it. He continued without finishing the previous statement. “It is more than that I felt it was right, though I did feel so when I brought the walker to the Veil. Though I am still learning.”

While Mathias didn’t see why Magpie cared what he thought of him, good or bad, he remained silent, listening. He hadn’t asked for an explanation, but he rarely turned away offered information. Even if the story itself wasn’t of interest, there was usually something of value behind the reasons why it was ever told in the first place at the very least.

“I met this man long before I met you, in Emea, many trials ago,” explained Magpie. “He wasn’t awake then, but I was… it was one of the first times I had awoken, shortly after I received my second spark. He was unlike all the others I meet in my own dreams, even while asleep, with an intelligence separate from my own. A mind I could not control. And when we parted, I thought of him some but less and less, especially after I met you and Miss Humming.”

Magpie paused, looking at Mathias as if only to confirm that the other man was listening. Obliging his needless fretting, Mathias blinked, indicating that he was, indeed, paying attention. Once confirmed, Magpie continued his explanation, “When I went to explore the Veil without you or Miss Humming, soon after you introduced me to such a place, there was an… object unlike the rest in my perception of the gates… portals… doors,” he mused as if uncertain which term he most desired to use.

Magpie made a small hand gesture at waist height, and a small portion of a stone table rose from the sea-grass ground. It was a replica of a piece of furniture from his visualization of the Veil. On the table, he conjured forward a few stacks of books with scrolls beside them. Fiona had always described the Veil as a collecting of gaping wounds - nothingness slashed open helter-skelter. Mathias himself saw massive doors of stone and inlaid pearl. It was odd to consider Magpie’s internalized concept of passage was that of books and scrolls.

Perhaps he truly had been a captive for most of his life, in one form or another.

As if to assure himself that the summoned illusion was suitable, Magpie placed a hand on each stack, then he pointed at a narrow space between a scroll and a few books. Where he pointed: a small silver tinderbox flickered into view. He picked it up and the gleaming silver faded into a rusted iron metal with flecks of crimson blood on the sharp corner. Magpie said, “This. I saw this.”

Curious.

“And I had seen this before. Well, it comes from me, a memory of my life, but also I had shared it with that man, in that singular dream. To help him light a pipe. I explained… certain things to him about it.” Magpie outstretched his hand, with the tinderbox in the center of his palm, and Mathias inquisitively plucked it from his hand, brow furrowing as he examined it, nodding slightly that he was still listening regardless of his interest in the little tinderbox.

“When I picked it up in the Veil,” continued Magpie’s explanation, as Mathias gently ran his thumb over the sharp corner. “It acted as any gate would. But I was in this same man’s dreamscape. This time, he was… he remembered me and he recognized me more than I had shared before and his eyes… he saw me. And I desired for him to see even more.”

Mathias glanced up from the box, bright eyes questioning. “Is this… innuendo?”

Magpie stared at Mathias.

“...no?” Mathias nodded to himself, returning his attention to the makeshift weapon in his hands. “My mistake. Continue.”

“Wh-what does it matter if…” started the biqaj. Mathias’ gaze flicked up to Magpie’s, his blank expression as clear of an indication that if it had mattered before, it didn’t now. A faint blush had returned to Magpie’s cheeks, but he continued regardless. “A-anyway, my choice didn’t have anything to do with that. It was because of his- and- it- well- it felt right.”

Tapping the pad of his thumb against the sharp, bloodstained corner of the little box, Mathias set his stare on Magpie once again. “I can not say I understand, but you seem set upon it. This man,” he continued, passing the tinderbox back to its rightful owner, more gesture than true exchange given the nature of dreamscapes. “Does seem peculiar.” Whether or not it was a wise choice to provide a man with the ability to recall the faces of those from dreams in which he was not awake - or, worse, from those dreams in which he pretended to be unaware - access to the realm of Emea and all the power and opportunity that came with it was another matter entirely.

Magpie accepted the tinderbox back. He curled his fingers around it, then crushed it into a cloud of momentary gray smoke. He added in a low voice of serious tone, “He’s a killer. I can tell.” And thus, it seemed that this statement was meant to be the final explanation as to why the young walker had taken the stranger into the Veil. An odd note to end upon, given Magpie’s supposed code of moral conduct.

“You can?” What then did he consider Miss Humming and himself, he wondered. “In what way can you be certain?” He didn’t feel the need to point out the clear conflict of interest that came with Magpie giving a man who took the lives of others a backdoor into the homes of every single sentient being on Idalos.

“I’ve only ever known killers,” replied Magpie simply.

“Oh?”

“It is in the eyes and the hands, in the way they pivot when they are approached and within dreamscapes, it becomes even more obvious. The things that their mind brings forth, the…” he trailed off.

“Yes?”

Magpie turned away and crossed his arms, obvious in momentary discomfort to elaborate. “The things that… I see and hear around them. It is familiar to me and thus, I can tell. Or perhaps, I can tell when it comes to a certain… type of killer. That is possible, I suppose. Regardless, I believe this man - if I can locate him again, and thus brand him as I know now - could potentially benefit the Aviary.”

“I see.” Mathias nodded once, eyes thoughtful. “Describe him to me, and I will do what I can to aid you.”