tushanshu_logs | and you seem to break like time

Entry tags:

and you seem to break like time

Characters: Catch-all for Solomon
Date: October
Location: Various places, specifically his apartment and Emily-Helen's pyramid just outside of the city
Situation: Solomon has things to do. And some people have things to do with him.
Warnings/Rating: Permadeath, Necromancy, mummification.

A: The tomb
The kedan finished the pyramid in impressive time. It helped that Solomon was paying them well, and when payment wasn't enough he threatened. At least some people were still afraid of the shadows--and Malicant's recent play had actually helped with that. It didn't make the kedan like him, and now they scattered when they saw him coming, but no one wanted to mess with a Necromancer when a being of the death-plane held so much obvious power over the city.

The pyramid was small, for a pyramid, set on one of the hills where Emily-Helen had enjoyed sunbathing. It was large enough for Emily-Helen's body and the barest necessities for her journey into the next life. Hieroglyphs covered every wall. The sigils protecting the inside and outside had been harder, and Solomon had in the end submitted to approaching Shudder for help with that in a very awkward encounter he had no intention of repeating. The writing of some of those sigils had been incorporated into the ritual when Emily-Helen was interred, but others were pre-written, only to be closed--ones to protect the pyramid from degradation and damage, and to ward the doorway and interior from incursion.

Solomon wasn't fluent in Egyptian, but he had been doing his research and he did remember some of the rituals in which he'd participated when he had visited the Temple there; between those he managed a complete, if simplified, series of rituals to properly inter the turtle-hatchling. He had left messages for those he knew would want to be present, but hadn't made a public announcement. Somehow he doubted Bakura would appreciate that.

The rituals took some time, but even after they were over Solomon waited at the tomb until the rest of those present had left. He send Marcelon away and stayed out of immediate sight but didn't try to hide himself either, standing in the shadows at the bottom of the hill. The door to the tomb had been left open.

B: At home
Leaving aside the work on Emily-Helen's body, Solomon still had plenty to do. There was trying to finish mapping the tunnels under the shell, for one. He had sent zombified birds down into the holes, trying to find where the chink in the shell in the ritual chamber led. So far few of them had returned, and without much success. He had left marks on the diomara where needed.

Right now his research into the Dreaming seemed both laughably off-track and potentially saving. If there was a way to flee into it, or use it as a weapon against Malicant ... there was too much potential in it to give it up, and yet it was time-consuming. Solomon persevered nevertheless, and now that Skulduggery wasn't tainted home was probably the safest place for Solomon right now.

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The title merited a little narrowing of her eyes, but the exasperation was a fond sort. She said nothing on that specifically, only inclined her head in acknowledgment, and took the arm he offered. "Of course," Raine said in return, that exasperation melting away easily in favor of anticipation, and walked with him when he did.

The arch and portal reminded her some little bit of the Seals, and though the Dreaming could conceivably house anything, her thoughts naturally followed that idea for the moment, of ruined temples unlike anything else in the world.

For his part, Solomon had been meaning to create a study or a research library of some kind--somewhere he could hide things, if need be, especially from certain eavesdropping beings. Without some kind of impetus, such as the fountain ritual during the festival, Solomon was fairly certain the area would have some degree of solidity--at least that it wouldn't outright mimic memories and events from the past.

They stepped through and while he wasn't exactly wrong, he wasn't exactly right either. The greater surrounding area, seen through the windows, seemed to be a ruin, once grand, no longer quite. The room in which they stood--doorless except for the portal arch--was still in good shape, but most evidence of paint or aesthetics had been ground away by time. There seemed to be a glow around, too, but Solomon didn't focus on it too greatly in favour of looking over the room interior. The desk was hardwood, the chair tall and plush, dignified and comfortable, the bookcases on the wall broad and sturdy.

It was his father's study.

"Ah," Solomon said.

The mana was the first thing Raine noticed, and somehow she was unsurprised at how the predominant element felt rather like darkness. Her gaze was drawn by the view from the windows initially, to the half-remaining curves of stone that looked rather like old Tethe'allan architecture, from before the Kharlan War. Distinctive shapes. Almost Shadow's temple. Not quite. That glow could be the crystal lamps that marked the way, could be the ubiquitous surviving magitechnology that marked all the seals, but she couldn't quite lay eyes on a source--

Raine pulled her focus back to the room itself. A place shaped by both of their consciousnesses, and the unfamiliarity of the interior, said this much was drawn from Solomon, and the one syllable he'd uttered was both telltale and completely unhelpful. An emotional reaction, likely, but hard to tell what kind. "Solomon?" she prompted, quiet, glancing briefly up at him before returning her scrutiny to the room.

Solomon glanced at Raine and if she'd been anyone else, he would have been wary about saying anything. She wasn't. He'd willingly told Raine more about the Temple, about his doubts, than anyone else. Even Skulduggery. The study drew his attention back to the memory Malicant had tainted, and even though it was unlikely Malicant could be spying while they were here, uninvited as he was, Solomon didn't like the association.

He smiled wryly. "I wanted a study area. I was expecting mine in the Temple, or one of the research areas from the same place." He looked back at the desk, bookcases, armchairs. "This is my father's study."

"Ah," said Raine in turn, more certain now about what sort of emotion that was. The room still looked, more or less, just a room, but there was more weight to the simple fact of being there, knowing the association, and when she spoke again it was careful. "He was on your mind." Her tone tilted up a little, though she was sure enough of the answer that it was not quite a question. It seemed reasonable for a dream, to pull material from the stronger emotions available.

"He was," Solomon agreed. They'd just been talking about him, after all, peripherally; but by extension that meant Solomon had been thinking about him more deeply than he'd actually mentioned. About how Da would have reacted in truth, if the vision was false. Whether the vision had just been wishful thinking.

Whether that fact mattered.

Solomon took her arm off his so he could move to the desk and the small painting in the corner, a painting identical to the one he habitually carried in his pocket since Skulduggery had found it in Valishaera. Himself, as a ten-year-old, leaning over the arm of one of the chairs--the one to his left, in fact--where his father sat. Grinning. Happy.

He turned it to show it to Raine. The relation was unmistakable, though Solomon's father was squarer-jawed, and bearded, and lacked the faint curl in his hair that Solomon had gotten from his mother.

It sounded like there was more to that, but she left it for now. Instead she followed, to get a closer look at the painting. No need to guess the subjects, there, the resemblance was evident enough even if there had been no context. Even if that smile was one rarely enough seen.

Raine found herself smiling, though it was an expression with a wistful edge to it. They looked genuinely happy, in that captured moment. "I... don't remember mine," she said, quiet, a thought she hadn't entirely intended to vocalize. Well. Intentional or not, if there was anyone she'd bring that up with it was Solomon.

She shook her head a little, glanced to the chair that featured in the painting, then to Solomon himself. "What was his name?"

"Ailbe ó Maolomhnaigh," said Solomon, the Irish rolling off his tongue. "The English called him Albert Moloney." His mouth quirked. "They were rather exasperated with our language, you see. As far as they were concerned we had altogether too many letters for what should have been simple sounds. So they fiddled with the letters, and changed some of the sounds to match the written result."

Solomon looked at the painting again, studying it. He'd already known about magic by the time it was painted. It hadn't been long after that the King's Guard had ambushed them in the meadow, and he'd been forced to use magic in front of Da. There hadn't been many happy paintings, after that. Carefully he put the painting back in its corner.

"I never knew my mother," he offered, a touch awkwardly and with a sidelong glance. He didn't know anything about Raine's family, except that she had a brother. How long had she been responsible for him?

There was the natural evolution of language over centuries or millennia, like the slow changes in the elven language, and then there was what Solomon described. Honestly. That was the sort of thing that contributed to lost knowledge and history.

Raine repeated the Irish version of the name quietly, as much to try the sound of it as to commit it to memory, and nodded to herself. Hesitated, after the addition he offered, caught in the place between wanting him to know some of it and not at all wanting to explain. "I-- don't remember most of my childhood," she said finally, with a shrug about as awkward as he sounded. "So while I must have known them, only fragments remain." She was discounting the later meeting with Virginia; as far as she was concerned, the mother she had known was no longer present. "Your father raised you alone, then?"

Raine must have been the nearest thing to a mother her brother had known, then. It wasn't exactly unusual, back in the day--the lifespans of mortals had been so much shorter, then. The first time Solomon learned sorcerers lived much, much longer he'd already been at the Temple, and hardly able to conceive of the idea. Likely it wasn't much different in Raine's world.

"Yes," Solomon said, "discounting our employees, and the tutors. Many boys in my position might have been sent off to a boarding-school, or put under the care of a guardian so his single father can place his attention elsewhere. Da was unique in wanting a direct hand in my education." Solomon hesitated for a moment, unsure whether or not to ask further--but since Raine didn't seem inclined to elaborate, he instead nodded out one of the windows. "I take it our location otherwise came from you?"

She had been, though she'd headed off any possibility of being called his mother early on. And it hadn't been a particularly unusual thing, either, especially in the declining world.

Employees and tutors. Hm. Nobility, or something like it? Certainly a family with resources, if those options had been available. And it would explain his manners, which when displayed were reminiscent of those of her friends who had that sort of background. "Unique, perhaps, but wise," she said, a little absent as she returned her attention to the windows. "Yes, it must be-- I can't imagine you'd have experience with Tethe'allan architecture. It's not quite right, but it looks most like the Seal of Darkness." Half a wry smile at that. "A theory supported by the mana, which bears primarily that alignment at the moment."

Raine paused briefly there, turning that over in her head. "It's not a place I have any particular attachment to, beyond having revisited it several times," she said, thinking aloud. "But I recall thinking the arch reminded me of the Seals, to some extent." If it had been purely on the weight of emotional connections, she'd have expected the Otherworldly Gate, perhaps, or Iselia. The Tethe'allan Seals were more or less neutral.

"So some combination of focus and connection defines the location," Solomon said, going to the window and glancing out, and putting his arm through to see whether he could. He could, but there was nothing to touch, and no doorway by which to leave. The portal had defined dimensions, and it was large enough for a decent study. Good. That was all he'd wanted. "We may have to step out and then in again to seek a more enduring appearance."

Her comment about the mana was contextless, however, and Solomon turned and leaned back against the window, inclining his head thoughtfully. "I don't believe you've told me about the Seals. How are they connected to mana?"

They couldn't produce it, or Raine wouldn't be able to sense it outside of her world.

"With some idea what to expect, conscious manipulation may prove easier," Raine agreed. "It may also be worth experimenting to see just how finely malleable this location is." This was a point of curiosity for her more than something of any grander importance, however.

The connection between the Seals and mana was a commonsense one to her, but she realized rapidly that while she'd explained mana to him, she hadn't brought up the spirits, which were key here. "For each element in our world, there's a being composed purely of that mana," she said, condensing down to the most relevant points. "Those are called summon spirits. While they don't quite reside on the same level of existence as we do, for each one there's a point where they're most closely tied to the world, and those locations are the Seals. While in much of the rest of the world mana is relatively evenly distributed between the elements, because of the spirits a Seal will always have a high concentration of its respective element, to an extent seen in the surrounding environment. Places where the wind never stops, for instance, or where summer never quite melts the ice." Raine skipped completely the religious associations, as they'd come afterward, and it was the spirits themselves that were important at the moment.

"They sound like a more conventional elemental theory," Solomon said thoughtfully. "I don't believe anyone ever actually put that theory into practice, unless it was a discipline of magic which died some time ago, but in the past it was believed that trees and rivers, or even air or fire, could manifest semi-sentient beings."

Maybe it was even possible that such beings, nature-spirits and elementals, had existed in some form a long time ago--long before man even began to assert himself. Back when the Ancients ruled. Solomon glanced out the window again, but there was nothing specific to mark save the architecture itself. "Otherwise, I'd liken it to the Cradles," he continued. "They're the places on the earth with the greatest connection to raw magic. Ireland, my homeland, is one of them. Events which occur in Cradles have a tendency to define the world."

Solomon turned again, and nodded toward the door. "Incidentally, I'm hoping to make the appearance concrete with sigils, so we'd better do some experimentation first and foremost if you'd like to do so at all."

"Either sounds like it could be a reasonable enough parallel." Raine considered briefly, added, "Though the spirits certainly have at least human levels of intelligence and awareness, and the Seals are relatively narrow locations." Other than that it was fairly solid, especially given how very important the Seals had been to their journey, and what they'd been to the shape of the worlds before reuniting them.

Experiments first. Hm. If the location responded readily to the subconscious she rather expected the view from the windows would have changed already, given both emotional and situational relevance of the Otherworldly Gate. But Solomon had said stabilising sigils, and the pockets in Valishaera had not been particularly responsive on a large-scale level. Hence exiting and re-entering, since while it was stable it was not yet set in stone. Raine gathered mana briefly, to test how well it would respond, noted the characteristic slowness of casting light spells in a predominantly dark environment but no other anomalies, and let it fade again.

"All right," she said, glancing about the room once more before nodding to herself. "A reset, then, correct?"

"Correct," Solomon said, and then added dryly, "though we should coordinate on our intended appearance before we re-enter." He glanced around himself. "Not something completely new--it's not dissimilar to summoning in many ways. Something familiar and personal will have far more weight and stability than something completely imagined."

Apparently the Dreaming considered Da's study more familiar and personal than anything at the Temple--which was, potentially, true. But with luck the fact he'd been thinking of Da beforehand had been the contributing factor.

One way to find out, regardless. Solomon smiled at Raine, deliberately charming, and offered his arm again. "Shall we?"

Familiar and personal sounded about right for the pocket's behavior thus far. It would also explain why the not-quite-Seal had been the background for the foreground of the significantly more personal attachment. "Of course," Raine said, and took his arm once more. That intent she could more or less recognize, though she was less apt with charm than most; the smile she returned was merely open, absent anything but genuine pleasure at the day's company and activity.

"I take it you'd still prefer some sort of study, or library?" She could definitely find something to fit that requirement, even and especially with the familiar and personal caveat. "It seems a reasonable end goal in any case, and there's enough room for variation within."

"Preferably, yes," Solomon agreed as he led her out through the archway. "Or a research lab--somewhere I can store and work on theory, with space enough for practical experimentation." Originally he'd been meaning just for a space where he could force the planes to intersect, for the sake of his pursuit in healing Bakura's ghosts. He still wanted that space. Now that he could properly access the Dreaming and had a better grasp of planal interaction, he had a better idea how to go about it, too.

It might even be something to ask Bakura whether he was willing to let Raine assist. But not now. Right now, Solomon had to get the Dreaming stable enough to work in the first place. He turned them back toward the arch, looking at it and considering what place he would use as a study if he had the chance.

The problem was that any location he considered wasn't anywhere he considered home as much as he had Da's study. As a boy Solomon had 'helped' his father read and do his paperwork. Da had even kept a journal for Solomon to do his own writings in. It was how he'd learned to read and write, by copying the sort of adult paperwork a noble landowner had done. They'd stopped spending that time together after the ambush--but Solomon knew for a fact Da had kept the journal.

It was, Solomon thought with resignation, probably defying the inevitable to pretend the space inside the Dreaming wouldn't reflect Da's study in some fashion. He may as well accept that. Solomon glanced at Raine. "Ready?"

As much use as a research lab might be, the one with which Raine had any emotional association was on the negative side. She flicked through libraries and study spaces in her head, judging by personal attachment and, secondarily, the potential for meshing well with other spaces. As she recalled, the books in Valishaera had been blank, so as much as she might love the texts from the Tower of Mana, it wasn't worth those associations, either.

When she'd fully settled on an idea, she nodded, and headed back through the arch with him, holding a particular memory foremost in her mind. Iselia was the most of a home she'd ever had, after all; there was little better as far as personal and familiar went.

On the other side of the arch the portions attributable to Raine were no longer stone and sourceless glow, but wood and sunlight, rough-hewn construction best described as 'rustic.' She'd drawn from the schoolhouse, the place she'd taught children for five years, and while the rows of desks were absent, there were papers and writing tools and shelves for books, which blended well enough. At least part of the view was blue skies, and a tower faintly visible in the distance. "Hm," she said aloud, feeling for the mana. That distinctly wasn't of Iselia, which was the one thing she'd intended to change. Good. "Does this suit for now?"

Solomon looked around at the new room. Like before, the windows showed a view outside, but there was no door with which to exit and nothing in reach of the windows that might change that fact. The boundaries of the area were still intact even after the change, which was good.

The space Raine had provided was good, large enough for drawing circles--excellent. In fact, it looked something like a schoolroom, judging by the shape and size of the shelves and the nature of the books and writing utensils. The interior had been more defined by Solomon's own thought--the study had been timber-panelled, with light through the windows and a fireplace, and thick, soft carpet. It was rich where the schoolhouse was rustic, but even as he watched the Dreaming's lines blurred and then sharpened, as if settling into a combination that segued well together. The result was that the richness of Da's study enlivened the schoolhouse--not so much as to turn it into a different place, but make it seemed warmer and cosier than before while still leaving room for practicality.

"It looks good," Solomon said, moving down to one end of the room where the bulk of the shelves were, a combination of the school's and Da's. The main piece of furniture other than those was the desk and a couple of the armchairs, and the rug was situated in that area, where the fireplace was. The greater chunk of the floor was timber. "Where is this?"

"Iselia." Raine went to the nearest window, glancing out and around before turning to examine in more detail the way things blended together. It was a little less obvious than she'd thought it might be, where one started and the other began, and the outcome was harmonious. "Specifically, the school-- I taught here, for about five years. The longest Genis and I have ever lived in one place."

She paced the length of the room, feeling out the space. It felt like years, rather than months, since she'd seen Iselia, but the nostalgia of the half-familiar place wasn't overwhelming. Home was the people, really. She paused by a shelf to pull a book from it and flip through, not really expecting anything other than blank pages, but checking for the sake of thoroughness nevertheless. "It's clearer," she added. "Intent, emotion, or some combination of the two, perhaps. Difficult to tell for sure."

"Allow me to hazard a guess," said Solomon with a suppressed smile. "You taught history, or would have if given the chance for a single subject." The room was altogether too small, and the shelves too collected, to have been part of a larger campus. In a small town a single room was all the community could afford--if they could afford to teach their children at all.

That meant Raine was most likely the only teacher for the surrounds. Somehow Solomon hadn't been expecting that; she was too logical to come across to someone to whom others would entrust their children.

"Both," Solomon said. "Familiarity may be a combination of emotions, but it's effective, nevertheless." There was one thing he wanted to see whether he could manifest, but it wasn't something he wanted present a tall times. Not that he needed it, specifically, because Stark Industries housed a forge, but even still Solomon would rather not rely on Stark's good will. He turned toward the far corner, where the floor was all timber and there was a dearth of shelving (or at least books), and focussed on the area. This wasn't a change in the general theme of the location, or the outside surroundings; it was a very specific addition to a very specific area.

It didn't happen easily. Slowly and sluggishly the floor rippled and it grew an anvil, a forge, a localised replica of the forges in the Temple. Solomon's temples throbbed and he closed his eyes and let his concentration lapse for just a moment, and when he opened them the forge was gone. So he'd have to make allowances in the wards, or maintain his concentration just to keep the forge present. Frustrating, but good to know.

Raine laughed quietly, as he had her absolutely correct on that front. "Yes, that's right," she said. Archaeology, to be specific, but it fit under the larger heading and in any case there was little call for teaching just that facet. Perhaps that would change. "The latter, more precisely."

She watched the floor shift and change, wondered what he was attempting but reasoned it would be obvious in short order anyway, and there was little point in interrupting concentration. The shape of a forge was, if not familiar, then at the very least recognizable, once it was near fully formed. Raine stayed clear of the still-shifting space for the moment, and hummed thoughtfully when it subsided. Judging by the speed of each process there had been more than a little resistance to making it; the room wanted to remain as it was. "That answers one question, at least," she said, glancing briefly over the space where the forge had been.

Why start with something of that size, rather than something smaller, unless he had direct use for that specific thing? Hm. "You're planning to forge something?"

"Not today," Solomon admitted. "Stark Industries has the resources, but it's not somewhere I want to rely upon." Not that he'd ever had any intention of Stark knowing, but just relying on the building and its resources, whether they actually belonged to this version of Stark or not, was asking for trouble given Solomon hadn't commissioned anything from the boy directly.

Solomon didn't quite know how far the youth's possessive and entitled streak went, and at this point in time he didn't want to test that boundary.

He regarded the space for a moment. "I'll have to make an allowance. The fact is ..." Solomon sighed. "The fact is, Raine, that my sanity right now depends upon the boon I was given." The boon given by Malicant. Solomon wasn't afraid of the name, but he didn't know whether Malicant could hear him in there, with that connection to the turtle, and he wasn't eager to take the risk. "I'm not relishing the idea of going back to how things were, and I'm frankly not sure I can, but having an item might enable me to circumvent some of the boon's influence."

She remembered that discussion, and all its implications, well enough to catch what he wasn't saying. That which was keeping him mentally sound was directly attributable to Malicant. There might be a very little room for doubt, but the worst, while unfortunate, was safest to assume.

It made her very cold, for a moment, to consider what Malicant might do with that boon. Raine circled the spot where the forge had briefly been, using the motion and time to calm worry into something a little more usable. "A foothold," she said aloud, and stopped near Solomon. "Of course."

She shook her head then, and looked at him directly. "It's a start, and the only thing you can realistically do right now, correct?" A pause. Then, not unkindly, but because she had a need to know, "What exactly will happen, if the boon ceases to protect you?"

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