EVENT | LANDFALL | VALISHAERA

[ironwood]

Characters: ALL!
Date: JULY 13-26
Location: Valishaera
Situation: Tu Vishan has made landfall on Siaxhi, to explore the Dreaming Watch City of Valishaera.
Warnings/Rating: Please indicate content warnings in subject headers as applicable.

As Tu Vishan draws near, the heavy jungle visible even from miles out quickly identifies the landmass as Siaxhi, one of the westernmost continents in Konryu and one that has been largely untouched insofar as the kedan themselves have gone. There is a natural inlet along the southeast shore on the continent and Tu Vishan makes for that, though he fills nearly all of it.



OOC INFORMATION
Landfall Questions | Approved Item Requests | Pocket Dreaming Signups

CITY OF VALISHAERA
Exploring the Coast | The Arybar | A Ruined City

WITHIN THE TEMPLE
The Monks' Domain | The Labs & Library | Gathering Rooms & Garden | The Pocket Dreaming Realms

LANDFALL MISSIONS
Dreamscape | Night's Wood | Inan | OOC Organization

Comments

[peacefullywreathed]

That was a very good point Solomon hadn't yet considered, and it made him stop and glance thoughtfully upwards. "Yes, I think that would be wise. How would you plan to do so?"

Soldier or not, the youth could only be a teen, regardless of his size. What sort of magic would he have that would enable him to do that? Or knowledge of the Dreaming? Either would be of benefit to Solomon.

[iguanasolution]

!I'm taking care of one of the turtles." He explained, shrugging a bit. "Asti came during the last festival, one night, and said he'd give me a gift as a thank you."

He lifted himself two feet from air as he grinned sheepishly. "I asked for flight- it seemed cool, at the time, but I'm also guessing it's going to come up handy often. I'm still not good at controlling it, but I can hover and check things from up there just fine. So maybe if you tell me what I should look for...?"

[peacefullywreathed]

It was such a ... a teenage request that Solomon had to smile, half indulgently and half in amusement. "It likely will," he agreed, if a touch dryly. What child didn't dream of flying? Not many. "And in the meantime, I assume it's enjoyable."

The amusement still hadn't faded as he pointed to the walls. "Patterns. To the untrained eye, letters are merely patterns and lines. I don't recognise any of these, but the shapes are reminiscent of the language of magic from my world. It's possible they too are letters." Which made the broader pattern, the shape of the sets, something akin to words or sentences. Solomon looked at the teen. "Are you able to simulate writing materials?"

[iguanasolution]

He looked at his hands. He knew how the dream realm worked, but he had never actually... actively tried to modify it before. Which, now that the man mentioned it, might have been grossly underusing the things the realms had to offer every time they visited.

"I think I am." He had a lot of training in projecting his minds and his thoughts thanks to Aquaman, and parenting a turtle had meant he was practically opening up his mind to whatever she was feeling or doing a little more every day. But it wasn't the same as what the man was asking.

So it took a few tries. Eventually, though, he had a brush and some old-looking papers in his hand and he gave the man a grin. "Hah! Got it."

[peacefullywreathed]

"Good," Solomon said, and even looked faintly pleased with his 'student'. It did take mental focus and persistence to be able to mould reality, and few teens had that sort of patience. That this one could achieve a manifestation fairly quickly said a good deal about his mind.

Whether he could maintain it long enough to sketch the details would say even more.

Solomon showed the teen the first page in his book, which was laid out like a grid--numbers on bottom, letters on the side. "Visualise the area like a grid, using the top edge as a representative of north. Each page corresponds to a square on the roof. It will allow you to draw the appropriate detail and still be able to order your work, like so."

He leafed through the book, showing Frank his own pages in comparison to the grid at the front. "Copy all the patterns you see. The difficult part will be divining shadow from line, but all that will require is a bit of extra conscientiousness on your part."

[iguanasolution]

At first, he'd been trying to pay attention and keep the papers in his hand. Eventually he'd given up, letting the things he'd 'summoned' slip away from his grip and disappear and resigned to listen to the man. His lips were still pursed, he didn't like looking like he couldn't do 'simple' tasks- but his ADHD already made it hard to focus on it long enough to summon it, let alone the kind of attention necessary to keep it as he focused elsewhere.

"I can do that. But I don't think we'll manage to keep these things" He motioned at the sketchbook- making the brush appear back in his hand at the same time, as if trying to prove a point to himself "when we go back to life. Do you have a good enough memory to remember it all?"

[peacefullywreathed]

The teen had been able to manifest the journal, but not maintain them. Still, the fact that he insisted on summoning a brush indicated tenacity, and that was really all Solomon needed. That, and some degree of accuracy. Technically speaking, that could be aided by willing the patterns onto the page too.

"No, we won't be able to keep them," said Solomon, "but the physical act of writing aids memory retention, particularly in a place which has some degree of connection to the subconscious, such as this. When you return I will copy what you've written into my book, and that will help me remember when I've left the Dreaming."

[iguanasolution]

That made sense, he guessed, so he simply gave the man a nod in understanding. If he managed to write and keep the writing long enough to bring it to him, he might even be really helping him- otherwise he'll just end up being a nuisance. So he decides to put his mind to it.

"Do you have a name, by the way?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"A few," said Solomon with a faintly secretive smile, "but my chosen is Solomon Wreath. And yourself?"

[iguanasolution]

"I'm Frank." He said, raising an eyebrow. Was he one of those superheroes with secret identity? But no, they wouldn't actually share they had more than one identity. Would they?

"I'll be right back, Solomon." Like the king, right? Cool name, Frank thought.

[peacefullywreathed]

"Very well." Solomon returned to his work, not doubting the boy's word so much as his skill. He obviously had some trouble maintaining manifestations; he was perseverant, but Solomon wasn't expecting to see him before he finished himself.

When Solomon's book was filled and his notations all made, he went out into the yard and looked up to see if he could see Frank in the air.

[iguanasolution]

Frank seemed to be either in deep concentration or full of anger, judging by the frown in his face. He kept doing basic strokes at the sheet of papers in his hands, which seemed to be slowly but surely getting filled with very simple scribbles of what he was seeing.

Eventually, though, he noticed Solomon was down there looking for him and he looked startled- but luckily, not startled enough to make the sheets disappear.

"Oh, hi! Are you done?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"I am," Solomon replied, looking up. In spite of the trouble Frank had been having inside, he was still able to keep maintenance of his pages thus far--and after being startled. So he was untrained, or suffered some sort of learning disability, but had enough tenacity to make up for it.

"Would you like some assistance?" Some teenagers reacted so badly to having aid.

[iguanasolution]

He'd usually accept the assistance, but in this case he just shook his head.

"I'm nearly done, actually. I just never had to summon this kind of thing before- and flying is still new to me, so it also takes some of my concentration." And true to his word, he was hovering down to Solomon a second later when he'd managed to make the last symbol stick.

"Here" he announced, handing the paper sheets to him. "I hope it helps a little."

[peacefullywreathed]

Solomon accepted the sheets to look at them. The sketching was crude, but it got all the important parts across, and anything the teen missed were things Solomon could extrapolate on his own.

"It suffices," he agreed. "You did well for someone unused to manifesting objects for significant periods of time." He had been anticipating the teen would take longer due to the need to stop and start. Solomon held out his book. "I'll need to reproduce your work to fix it in my mind. Would you like to have a look at what I've observed?"

Fair was fair. The boy wasn't a scholar, but he was willing and had done the work. He'd earned the right to see what he'd contributed to.

[iguanasolution]

"Sure!" He said with a grin. Figuring out those kind of things couldn't hurt even if he didn't get all of it at first, and the little work he'd just done had proven he shouldn't underestimate the power of using dreaming to their advantage. Maybe if he saw the man summoning things on his own he'd be able to do it easily.

[peacefullywreathed]

"Excellent," Solomon said approvingly. "You will need to manifest a second book to write in." There were some places to sit in the garden, but they needed a desk as well. Rather than go in search of one, Solomon put out his hand and manifested a chair first--timber, with a high back but thick cushions on the seat and back. It grew out of the ground almost like a tree in fast-motion.

"Manifesting objects is easy in principle," he said as it did. "It's simply a matter of wanting it hard enough and directing that want into a physical place. The difficult part is maintaining the manifestation and without requiring the entirety of your focus." He glanced at Frank. "Have you heard of the memory palace?"

[iguanasolution]

Frank was already staring at his hands, as if wondering how as he going to manage to make an entire book appear. It was why he'd been basically using only sheets of paper: he'd found them easier to manifest and easier to focus on, so they lasted longer.

He blinks at the last part, his attention back to Solomon. For once, something about Camp Jupiter comes in handy. "Uh, we were told something about that at camp. But it's more Greek than Roman, and most demigods have too much of hard time focusing to manage something like that either way, so it was a mention in passing.

It's something like imagining your mind as a literal place, right?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"Something like," said Solomon dryly. "It's a technique more to do with memory. It uses a place extremely familiar to you as a medium by which to remember lists--names, or tasks, or numbers. Manifesting objects uses a similar set of principles."

He laid a hand on the chair. "This is the chair from my office, at home." Moving around a rectangular area, his hand flat against the air, he visualised a desk and a moment later one sprouted under the ground beneath his hand, in the same sort of style as his chair. "And this is my desk." He put down the book. "And this is the most recent journal I had been using to write in."

Solomon looked at Frank. "The more familiar the object is to you," he said, "the less work your mind needs to do in order to manifest them, and the easier it is to remember that it exists without your needing to focus upon it." He tapped the book. "If you need to write in something, don't simply manifest a book, or a set of pages--manifest a specific book, or a specific set of pages. If you need something in which to sit, visualise your favourite chair, or stump, or stool--it doesn't matter what it is, so long as you know it well enough for your subconscious mind to accept that it is there."

[iguanasolution]

"Oh!" Frank's eyebrows rose up in a transparent 'it had been so easy all along' kind of way, and it was clear from his expression that something had just clicked. That sounded like his shapeshifting powers: the more he knew the animal, the easier it was for him to shift into it. Frank didn't know almost anything about Rhinos, so he could turn into one- but he'd been taking care of Hannibal for months at camp, so turning into an animal had actually been easy once he'd gotten the hang of it.

Dreaming seemed to work the same way. The more he knew what he was going to summon, the easier it would be for him to do so, according to what Solomon was saying.

"Okay. Okay, let me try..." He frowned at his hand, pursing his lips in concentration. Soon, a big and solid spear was in his hand and he let out a little laugh of triumph. "I got it! I totally got it!"

Except that... wasn't really going to help them with the writing at all, but Frank was too happy to have gotten that much to realize that.

[peacefullywreathed]

That look of gleeful comprehension was the one thing that made teaching worthwhile, in Solomon's opinion. Some students were idiots; they didn't want to learn, and Solomon had no time for people like that. But the ones that did had always made Solomon want to come back to tutor the younger acolytes, something few masters bothered to do.

"Very good," Solomon said with a smile, though he regarded the spear with a curious eye. They had been talking about what amounted to office utensils; why, suddenly, the spear? Clearly it was something Frank knew well, if it was what he chose first.

"However," he added, dryly but not degradingly, "I think that's rather too large to use as a writing utensil." He put his hand out on the table and a book identical to his first materialised on its surface. "You will also need a chair." With a slight, too-innocent smile Solomon looked up. "Perhaps you should begin with that."

[iguanasolution]

He was playing around with the spear, getting used to the feeling of it in his hand when Solomon spoke, and with an oops face he tried to pretend he wasn't turning red. But the spear didn't disappear when he was distracted, so he thought that should be considered an improvement.

"Right. Uh." He looked at the spear, shaking his hand to make it disappear in a puff of smoke. Then he looked at his other hand and frowned. 'A chair...' he muttered, trying to remember a particular chair that meant something to him. He discarded camp right away since they usually ate lying down, but if he thought further back...

Suddenly a very old-looking but cared for chair appeared, and he grinned. "There. That was Grandma Zhang's office chair, and I used to sneak in and sit on it all the time when I was little. Made me feel like one of the big boys."

[peacefullywreathed]

"A good choice," Solomon said. It was: it was a very personal object, one from Frank's childhood. It was the sort of object that would last; something so deeply rooted in the teen's consciousness and memories that Solomon wondered if it would vanish even if Frank told it to. "You shouldn't have trouble keeping that manifested."

Solomon took off his coat and hung it over the back of his chair, and took a seat. The chair was a good start, but the writing materials would be the difficult part. Solomon could have summoned a chair for the teen himself, if necessary. "The book is more important," he said. "It's what will represent your subconscious mind, and therefore is something you'll have to manifest and maintain on your own."

[iguanasolution]

Frank sat on his own chair, worrying his lower lip as he thought about it. He could have summoned a desk as well, now that he had the vision of his grandma's office in his mind but like Solomon said, the book was the important part if they were going to keep on writing.

And he was painfully aware that every moment Solomon took to explain because Frank didn't understand was a moment he could have spent studying on his own, so he was going to make the most of it.

"I don't really have a book or a journal in mind, but..." He took a moment to remember, to focus on the memory. Eventually he placed a hand on the desk and slowly a calligraphy kit began to appear: a pot, some ink, an ink stone, a few brushes and paper. "I think this might also be useful?"

[peacefullywreathed]

"It would," Solomon said with a nod. "The pages on which you write don't necessarily have to be bound, though you may find it more difficult to retain or connect the knowledge together. In the subconscious, a bound book would represent something a touch more ... cohesive than otherwise."

Actually, the fact the teen couldn't manifest a book, but pages, said something about his psychology. For whatever reason, he seemed to have trouble connecting thoughts together--not obviously, but enough that concentration was an effort. Dyslexia or something similar, if Solomon recalled correctly; mental states hadn't had much in the way of name or description when he'd been born.

"Fortunately there is no limit to the pages you can create, here," he said dryly, manifesting his own utensils--a fountain pen and inkpot. They weren't what he meant to create, but they were an image of the ones his father had owned, and personal. Possibly Frank's explanation of the rocking-chair had influenced him. Either way, it meant that he could pull the empty journal and Frank's notes closer, and being his transcription. "If you need help with the interpretation, feel free to ask."