tushanshu_logs | Kneel in silence alone / my spirit bears me

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Kneel in silence alone / my spirit bears me

Characters: Solomon Wreath, Raine Sage, OPEN
Date: Month of April, ‘2016’.
Location: Primarily the Midnight Hotel, but potentially elsewhere as well.
Situation: Solomon’s adjusting to new circumstances, like the fact he’s now blind and a part of his soul has detached to act as a filter for his highly addictive magic. Fun.
Warnings/Rating: References to addiction--specifically an addiction to magic--and subsequent withdrawal.

The first five days after the accident, Solomon didn’t leave his room. Not only was there no point, but he was virtually incapable of it; he’d gone into the attempt to filter his magic knowing that he’d come out of it either insane or in withdrawal, and that hadn’t changed just because it hadn’t quite worked. He spent that time alternately too sick to leave the bed and too restless to bear it. It wasn’t until several days into the month of April that he dared to leave, and that was mostly to escape the feeling of being caged.

From the 3rd of April onwards the Hotel patrons will start seeing a tall, dark-haired man about the place. Not exactly an ordinary sight, either—these days Solomon had silver scars scattered around his eyes and face, thin in themselves but in large enough quantity to be clearly visible. They looked exactly as if something had blown up in his face, because something had; if anyone managed to catch him with his sleeves rolled up, they’d see similar laceration scars on his hands and wrists.

The really odd thing about him was that the shadows flocked toward him. Anywhere within ten feet of him, shadows would detached from their owners and gather around his feet like eager puppies, or caressing his fingers whenever he touched the wall. Which was often; the way he moved, the way he walked, it was clear Solomon couldn’t see a thing. Every now and then the shadows would spread out around him, as if scouting the terrain ahead, but even then Solomon’s progress was slow.

The observant would notice that the shadows, having touched Solomon once, would develop an underscoring blue mist which acted, in many ways, like a shadow for the shadows.

Though Solomon had been at the Hotel for months, he was so reclusive that ten to one most of the patrons wouldn’t recognise him, and frankly that was something Solomon was relying on. This was going to be hard enough without people gawking. Luckily he wouldn’t be able to see people gawking—but he’d know it, if only out of paranoia.

For the most part he tried to avoid areas with high traffic, or at least during hours of high traffic; but even still Solomon was potentially visible in the halls, on the balcony over the reception, and in the kitchen or the common-room in particular, drawing shadows around and, occasionally, cursing over a stubbed toe or banged knee. He didn’t seem to be striving to do anything in particular, aside from exploring his surroundings and staunchly ignoring anyone nearby. In the kitchen he was particularly interested in the tea area and finding the blasted fridge.

Regardless of where he was, the kedan gave him a wide berth; the only risk to his public seclusion was, therefore, the Foreigners.

[ooc: As a necromancer, Solomon has a death-sense—he can sense whether or not a person has died before. Due to progress in-game he’s also able to extend that to a sense of a person’s soul, though at the time of this log he isn’t able to tell anything more than whether or not there are large pieces missing (so your character’s emotional secrets are safe!). Please let me know if your character fits into this category through PM or a short ooc note.]

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It hadn't taken all that long for Genis to find out what happened to Solomon. After all, as insensitive as he could be sometimes, he was able to read his sister like a book (most of the time), and he had figured out what had happened. Of course, he had also been told, quite early on, that he had wanted to be kept alone. And even when Genis had seen him at the Hotel, what little he had, he'd always been relatively distant, always at arm's length.

Blindness, he'd been told. He had no experience with that sort of thing, really. About the closest thing akin to that he knew was when Colette had started to lose her senses as they began to remove each of the seals. Her not being able to speak at all had been one of the more brutal ones, and she'd restored to drawing letters on Lloyd's hand to communicate. He'd heard that losing one sense made the others stronger, and so after a little bit of thought, Genis had prepared an experiment.

He's coming to Solomon's room with a small bowl in his kitchen-gloved hands. There's a soft thudding against the door as cloth raps against the door of his room. "Dinner's on," Genis calls through the door.

Except it's a subtle lie.

As it happened, Solomon was going through the wardrobe. There wasn't really a whole lot to do in his room. There wasn't really a whole lot for him to do out of it, either, except build up his strength. All his original hobbies--impossible. He'd wake up thinking about something to read that day and then remember he couldn't. Every time he felt his way past the desk, his hands fell on some book or another.

So, the wardrobe, if only to keep his mind off the books that were taunting him with their very existence on the other side of the room. Solomon was focussed enough that the sound of Genis's voice was startling, especially so because it's Genis.

Since when had Raine's brother been--oh. Well, there had been that, er, 'cheering up' gift Raine had brought him the other day. Solomon had tasted it out of morbid curiosity in spite of its smell before deciding that Genis was entirely correct and hadn't exaggerated at all. In contrast, the--soup? It smelled like soup--actually smelled good.

"Just a moment." Solomon made his slow, slightly unsteady way to the door, gave up looking for the doorknob and had a shadow twist it open for him while he leaned on the wall beside it. "You weren't exaggerating about Raine's food," he informed the boy without preamble, gazing out over Genis's head with blue-tinged shadows curling all around his shoulders and ankles. "Just thought you'd like the vindication."

Genis waits patiently for the door to open, and when it finally does he looks up and actually smiles a bit. Genis, smiling at Solomon? What a time to be alive. It's kind of unprecedented. That said, as Genis looks up, he can't help but notice the bluish marks curling around his flesh. It's weird, but Genis has seen plenty of weird stuff; it's not going to put him off.

But when Solomon opens with the story about Raine, it's practically everything Genis can do to not just burst out laughing about it. "Don't ever say I didn't warn you," Genis says with a dry voice. "When will Raine ever get it into her head that random experimentation isn't something she should do in the kitchen? What sort of abomination did she foist onto you this time?" Genis is practically curious to know; it'll be one more story into his sack of bad Raine cooking stories to pull out at terribly inopportune times.

But that said, Genis just looks up with that selfsame smile from earlier. "Lucky for you, I'm just a little bit better than Raine." Look now he's even being faux-modest. "Though perhaps unlucky for you, what I've got here is my dinner." Genis actually nods to the beef stew in his hand, for the moment forgetting that such a gesture would be wasted. "But... I wouldn't want you to go without a good dinner. So, I've got something prepped for you downstairs."

"Oh, you warned me," Solomon agreed, and grimaced. "But I am occasionally afflicted with incurable curiosity. I shall have to say, however, that pancakes ... pancakes should not come with bacon and burnt croutons."

He stood aside to let Genis in, and aimed a vaguely amused but simultaneously unimpressed glance generally over Genis's head. He asked, "You do realise that I've been outside of my room more than once in the past few days, and that attempting to lure me out is therefore not necessary?"

[OOC: I lol'd. Just saying.]

Genis covers his face with one hand and practically is faking crying by this point. "Is she still trying to get pancakes right?" Please hide him from his sister's machinations. "I keep trying to tell her that she's not ready to mix savoury ingredients with pancakes because of the delicate balance between sweet and savoury, but does she listen?" Sigh.

Anyway, Genis notices that Solomon is willing to let him in, but Genis doesn't go by. "Well, yes, but this isn't just a secret plot to get you out of your room." Genis is practically gloating about how smart of an idea that this is. "Raine told me that you liked to read," which Genis realises is probably how the two hooked up at all, "and that you didn't have much to do because you can't see. But I also know you like to cook. So I'm going to teach you how to cook. Without being able to look at a recipe."

"You know I like to cook, do you?" Solomon asked in amusement. "Whatever gave you that idea?" Truthfully Solomon had never really had a need to cook. Certainly he was better at it than Raine, on the occasions he'd cared to try; but it wasn't something that had occurred as a viable expense of his time, even after his accident.

Now, though ... the idea had some merit. Certainly it would be preferable to being waited on hand and foot--even as a child in a manor full of servants, he'd drawn lines at that.

"Alright. Let me get my shoes. Assuming you don't wish to eat your meal first?" Solomon lifted an ironic eyebrow at Genis and then turned, raising a hand to extend the blue-tinged shadows around his feet in a circle, searching for furniture. His steps were still hesitant, because he wasn't used to this method of tracking, but he knew generally where his shoes were kept and it was straight-forward enough to find them and sit on the bedside to pull them on.

There was no point in taking his coat; presumably they weren't leaving the Hotel.

"Oh you know, just a little instinct," Genis says sheepishly. Yes, that too was Raine. It's not like Solomon had told him as much ever. After all, Genis has usually been the one to do all of the talking thus far.

However that said, there's a shake of the head after Solomon asks him. "Well, actually, this isn't just my safe version of dinner. You know, just in case everything goes wrong downstairs. But it's also something to compare against. Cooking is all about smells and flavours. But until you know instinctively what you're trying to make, it's kind of hard the first few times. So I made this to help you figure out what else you might need to make. Just in case."

Genis explains all this while Solomon is putting on his shoes. "And I guess it was also an excuse to get you intrigued by this experiment. Not that it was necessary, huh. Anyway, do you need help getting downstairs?"

"A control sample, then," said Solomon. On the one hand he was amused by Genis's precociousness--was this how all Solomon's tutors had felt, at a pre-teen boy who thought he knew everything and knew just enough to justify the feeling, more than most boys his age did?

On the other hand the question about needing help irritated him, but it was an impulse reaction to being helpless, feeling helpless, and he shook it off, literally and figuratively. "No, I'll be fine. You're used to dark magic anyway, I take it?"

It was one of Raine's descriptions of magic from their world; the description of darkness as an accepted element. Solomon rose and summoned more shadows from around the room; they stretched from their owners, from furniture and Genis himself, detached and wreathed around Solomon's ankles like an aura. He took a step toward the desk to pick up his keys and the shadows followed, trickling over his feet and around the legs of the desk-chair, a moving radar system to ensure he didn't trip over anything mundane.

"Something like that!" Genis says with a bit of excitement. He's certainly thought this through. "I find it's far easier to mess with a recipe once I've made it because I know what the end product is like and how I can alter it. Same way here; it's easier knowing what you're going for and not just tossing random things into a pot."

He pauses a bit with the question though. It was definitely something that he hadn't expected as a reply. "Well, I'm not familiar with using Dark magic, but I am familiar with having it cast at me." Yeah, it's kind of a joke, though it's still descriptive enough, he supposes.

However, it's what Genis does that completely floors him. As even his own shadows from the dim corridors are ripped away from his form, Genis just watches in amazement as the tendrils of darkness spin about him, latching onto everything. Solomon can't see it, but Genis' eyes are wide. And amazed. "Whoa, how do you do that!?"

It was the sort of response Solomon did usually get from children Genis's age, but it was vindicating--even now, with Solomon understanding more about his magic's drawbacks. He chuckled as he picked up his keys. "It's necromancy," he explained. "In my world the most common use of it is in shadow-manipulation. Raine told me that darkness is considered a vital element in your world, but in mine it's not very well regarded."

To say the least, given that necromancers were essentially shunned. It went both ways.

"I haven't cooked for myself before," he admitted, stepping toward the door with his head level and one hand extended toward the ground to keep the shadows moving. They played across the carpet, bumping up against Genis's legs and exploring up to his knees like curious puppies before brushing past, the boy's presence acknowledged and noticed. "I'll have to bow to your expertise in the matter."

Genis blinks a bit at that. "Necromancy? And here I thought it involved dealing with dead people instead of just making shadow puppets on the ground," he says just a little bit snarkily. "But yeah, I think I've gathered the fact that most worlds don't really think Darkness is all that great an element. I think I'd think it's a better element if I actually knew any of it." But he shrugs it off.

Right before he almost jumps with the shadows creeping up his legs. It's definitely a... weird... sensation, but at least it doesn't last very long. "Well, I'll be here with you to give you second opinions. And besides, it means that we get to taste everything as we make it. The only way to get good is to taste the food as you cook it so you know it's delicious." Yes... Raine.

Genis leads Solomon down to the kitchen, and he immediately gets to work dragging out things. "I'd let you get everything started up on your own, but in the interest of time, I'll get the pot ready and warmed up. Everything else is just chopping, cutting, and then balancing flavours."

"I can do shadow-puppets too," Solomon assured Genis blithely. He'd even made shadow-puppets in Keeliai, to give the sex talk to a couple of teenage giant turtles. ... Not the ninja kind. That had been a good day, and would have remained a good memory if there wasn't an Emily-Helen shaped hole in the middle of it. "Necromancy is as much about darkness as death where I come from, though I haven't done much with either lately."

He'd been too focussed on not walking into walls and doors ever time he tried to go anywhere to bother with actual magical techniques. Which was fortunate, since it meant Solomon was able to follow Genis easily enough, though at a markedly slower pace.

The kitchen, when they arrived, still smelled like the soup Genis made. It wasn't in the least a bad smell, though to be fair the kitchen frequently smelled delicious; Shudder being an excellent cook himself, and Genis being there, and the new kitchen hire--well, there was no lacking for good food. Solomon paused by the door to take a deep breath, chin lifting, and listened for the clang and rattles as Genis started gathering equipment.

"You'd hand a knife to a blind man?" Solomon asked, and this time it was pure amusement. Not that he could say he was objecting; there was something relieving about Genis's assumption that Solomon would be able to handle a blade.

Genis snorts a little bit at his first joke. Yeah, it's not enough to make him laugh out loud, but at least there's a little appreciation at Solomon's sense of humour. It wasn't something that came out all that frequently. "Sounds vaguely kind of like the magic that Raine warned me about in Bakura. Funny how she didn't warn me about any of your magic." Yeah, there's a smug lilt to the end of that little bit. Genis means nothing too untoward about it, though of course he is suspecting Raine a little bit of bias.

With the knife, the comment does earn a minor freakout from Genis until he finally catches the joking nature of it. "Well, unless you want to eat a very limited set of things... or have Raine cook for you, I figure you're going to need to use a knife if you want to learn how to cook. Besides, the only threat here is to yourself. I figure if you go mass murderer on me, I've at least got the advantage over your aim." Smug grin again.

"Just try not to cut yourself though. I'll let you know if you're cutting things too thinly or too thickly."

"To be fair, Bakura's magic is more dangerous," Solomon admitted. "Necromancy is about order. It hurts its user more than its targets, except when its user directs it. The khajbit is about chaos, and hurts both equally if it has half the chance." It was a simple description, but it wasn't inaccurate. Bakura's magic sought out vengeance.

In the end, though, both were equally capable of using someone as a tool.

Laughing quietly, Solomon pulled out drawers and felt inside them--carefully--until he found one with the knives. "You'll need to tell me which knives to use, first," he said, pointing into the drawer. "Which blades are used for what purpose, and why?"

If he knew that, he could just create a shadow-blade of the right tenor. It'd be easier than risking stabbing himself in the fingers every time he reached into the drawer.

"Hmmm," Genis says as he mulls over the difference. "Bakura mentioned something that his sort of magic definitely worked differently than anything I've ever experienced with the magical artes before. Something about probability and whatnot. But he didn't say anything about chaos. Then again, he is kind of drawing creatures from another realm to his, so..." He shrugs a bit and accepts Solomon at his word, even if it doesn't really change Genis' perception of Bakura.

Ah, he probably does need to go over a few more basics first, doesn't he? Yes, yes he does apparently. "Oh, right," Genis says a little sheepishly. "There are a few types of knives, and there are knives better suited for some tasks than others, even if they all mostly cut things." He digs out a handful of them, and Genis uses one hand to open Solomon's, placing the knife handle in one, and then he moves the other hand near the blade. "See how this one's serrated with the bumps and grooves? That's a bread knife. Not what you want, but it's the easy way to identify it. But this one, this is the one you want." He takes the bread knife and gives him a different one. "This is a chef's knife. Ideal for chopping. It's the heaviest of the knives I generally use, and that's because that weight just helps force your way through everything."

The unexpected touch made Solomon jerk a little in surprise, but then he quite willingly let Genis guide his hands to the knives, turning them carefully over in his hand to feel the weight and length and the blades in comparison to one another. The second was markedly different in terms of heft and blade, enough to tell just by picked it up.

"Weight does make a difference," Solomon murmured, and put down the chef's knife, laying his hand over it on the counter. He lay his other hand beside it, but empty; a shadow slid down his arm and shaped itself under his fingers, echoing the shape and size of the chef's knife. It looked like it was made of obsidian, from handle to blade-tip. "But I imagine a sharp edge removes the need for that extra weight, yes?"

Solomon picked them both up again, measuring them against each other by their feel. The real one was definitely heavier--but his shadow-made construction had a blade he could hone to the edge of possible precision.

Genis... is just going to be amazed. He had already been impressed with Solomon's ability to manipulate shadow. But this was just crazy. The ability to take shadow and shape it into real objects? That was surreal. "Whoa," Genis will say, almost backing away a step when he sees it happen. That sort of thing is something Genis is going to have to get used to as time goes on. "You've kind of got some crazy things going on with those shadows, Solomon. But hey, by the looks of it, it might just help you cook pretty well..."

Genis manages to recover and starts talking shop again. "Well, you definitely don't want dull knifes, of course. Really, the size of the knife helps you determine what you're trying to do. The bigger the knife, the more blunt the work. If you wanted to do smaller cuts, this is... kind of overkill. You'd want a paring knife for that; they're much smaller. But for just course cutting, for slicing and dicing? That's pretty much your bread and butter."

"I'm good at making shadow-puppets." Solomon flashed him a smile. "Like this?" He put out his hand to make another knife, much smaller than the shadow-one in his hand. It was the wrong shape for a paring knight, though--no serrations, and sharp, but still more like a utility knife. It would probably do, but may not be small enough again.

The added advantage to the shadow-puppets being, of course, that at least Solomon could tell exactly where they were at any given time. He was less likely to stab himself that way.

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Kneel in silence alone / my spirit bears me

I dunno, April 5 or so

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