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who are you, really?
Posted: Wed Jul 06, 2022 1:36 am
by Florian
Pacing was an accurate, but inadequate description for what Florian was doing. There had been an imperceptible change, at first, but it was only imperceptible because of the very structure of Zaichaer. He enjoyed standing near the window of his office and watching the ebb and flow of the wards that crossed the Presidium, and the layers of negation that spanned the perimeter of the property. He noticed, first, the dimming of the wards outside his window, and some paranoia set in that they were not being properly maintained. But a day came when they had been repaired, and yet... it happened again. The dimming of the wards just outside his window.
It took even longer for him to realize it was him, though it was only after he had left Brenner's hospitality and accepted Lyra's. In the manor she had purchased, recently vacated with the coup, her own magic permeated the atmosphere. Florian had been originally allowed into her laboratory, but even she quickly noticed that it was now not just his blood that could prevent the manipulation of Aether. It was him. It was perhaps only due to Lyra's special installation of his arm that allowed it to function naturally, like an extension of himself, rather than to malfunction from his very presence. Now he found he could no longer stand near the window, whether he was simply watching or not; the degradation of the wards was both suspicious and a security risk. Regardless of his permit for Aether Siphoning, he did not need to give anyone more reasons to Other him.
Florian abruptly left his office, and his two bodyguards followed him from where they stood outside the door. He didn't let them into the office. At Brenner's insistence, they followed him most everywhere, and he allowed it. But he hated it. He rarely spoke to them; he was not friendly, he did not care about their lives or their families or their interests besides.
Florian did not stop until he had exited the Presidium. The sky above was choked grey with rain, and no sooner had he stepped outside did it begin pouring. He ignored the rain, even as it drenched him and the bodyguards. One complained to the other about the rain, but Florian kept walking until he was sitting in a hansom cab. Only one other person could fit; the one who did not complain was dismissed, allowed to go home. Florian did not speak a word through the ride, but he was thankful for movement providing a breeze. It was a thankful escape from the storm-sourced humidity, but as they crossed the river and approached the Knob it just seemed to get stickier, even as the rain let up.
Now the Lysanrin walked. He wasn't sure what he was walking to, at first, until he was standing face to face with the door of his mother's apartment. He still had a key, acquired from the investigators with some string-pulling. The building was barren, and it had never been so barren in his life. His childhood home, empty, was a gut-wrenching experience. It had been cleaned, once upon a time, but a thick layer of dust settled on the windowsills, the counters, the stove and the floor.
He started to cry, but unlike some of his usual sobs, it was only the quiet, wet tears that fell down his face. As he walked through, he could see where her blood had stained the wooden floor. Florian had no idea how much the guard knew of him, his past, or what had happened here; he did not expect him to know, and he did not expect him to care.
Florian had not returned to this place since his mother's death, and it had been nearly a year. It was silly, maybe, that as he had returned before the rooms had been relinquished to the landlord, he had continued to pay for it. It was his, after all, and other than some of her possessions, it was most all he had left. He stepped into the bathroom, some light pouring from the window and illuminating his reflection in the mirror.
He leaned against the sink and studied himself, his face puffy from crying and his hair and skin and clothing soaked from sweat and rain. His shirt clung to him and his curly hair was stuck to his face. It had been some time since he had met the light-prince Talon in his runed prison — the feather he had been gifted was left at home, at Lyra's. But he did not want to hold it and feel hope and forgiveness. Even the expectations he had placed on himself felt like they strangled him. Nothing felt correct.
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 12:31 am
by Paragon
“Pardon the interruption.” The voice that spoke to Florian came from behind him in the doorway. It was accompanied by the whirring tick of clockwork. The voice that spoke, itself, seemed almost mechanical in nature. In the reflection of the mirror, Florian would be able to see a single figure standing there. Draped in a long coat that came to stop just above the ankles, the figure wore warm brown colors embellished with bronze and white accents. Gloved hands rest atop the knob of a cane that was, itself, seemingly some manner of clockwork device. There was no face to behold. There was only a solid copper mask over a cloth headwrap. But from the mask a pair of wicked green eyes studied Florian with bright curiosity.
“No need to be alarmed, Minister. I am not here to harm you.” The voice was male but again had that metallic ring to it. Absently, the man took out a pocket watch and looked at the face of the clock upon it. He nodded to himself, closed the pocket watch and tucked it into the pocket of his vest.
“A moment of your time?” He reached into another pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, extending it to Florian.
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 12:44 am
by Florian
Florian turned from the mirror, the knuckles on his fleshed hand almost white with the grip by which they held the sink. He turned around and leaned back against it, hands clutching at the sink behind his back. There had been his bodyguard there, but his apparent failure to do any guarding was not the primary issue at hand. The tick-tick of clockwork that came from the man only reminded him of his own, the tick-tick, the quiet whirring when he moved and flexed and bent his fingers.
He didn't take the handkerchief, but he rubbed the tears from his eyes. It did not surprise him that so much could be made of clockwork; if one could make an arm that worked as real, one could surely make more with ample time. "Who am I giving this moment to?" He asked, irritation coloring his voice. This man knew who he was, which wasn't surprising, and had seen him come here — also not surprising. But Florian did not want to be bothered. He blinked his pupils away and stared at the man with the aether sight beyond sight, and saw... nothing.
"And what am I giving this moment for?"
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 12:59 am
by Paragon
When the handkerchief was not taken, the figure tucked it back into one of his pockets. He rest his hands atop his cane and gave Florian a moment to collect himself. Those eyes stared unblinking at the Lysanrin.
“You may call me Mr. Chairman. For that is, perhaps, the most prominent name I can give you.” When Florian posed his question there was a pause. The whirring and ticking of clockwork gears filled the space between them.
“Would you believe me if I said it was to settle a debt to your mother?” That sentence hung in the air. The figure made no threatening motions, nor did he attempt to invade the space that Florian was currently occupying. He bent slightly at the waist and gestured to the space beyond the bathroom.
“Care to talk?”
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 1:10 am
by Florian
Florian squinted and adjusted his sleeves. The name did not ring any bells, and as to what he was chairman of — he did not know, and he did not care. Florian pushed himself from the sink and walked towards him.
"What do you know of my mother? If you're here to settle a debt, you're just about a year too late." His eyes flicked past the doorway that he stood in and into the empty hallway, where the stain of blood still marked the wooden floors. The ticking of the clockwork from both of them seemed amplified here, with no furniture or rugs to absorb the sound. Just the echoing tick, tick, tick.
Florian waved his hand and then used it to brush a loose curl from his face. He slipped past the man and into the hallway, and turned to look at him. Whatever his aim was, the mention of his mother was enough to pique his curiosity. He did not know who she knew, what she knew, or what she had really done, but it was curiosity enough that a stranger came by because of her. He recalled the letter about the heartstone, a mystery still far out of his grasp. She knew things, and always seemed desperate to have a normal life. Florian, too. It never happened that way.
"We can talk."
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 7:51 pm
by Paragon
“I am aware of Ava’s…demise.” Though his tone had been otherwise conversation up to that point, it took a downward turn. Clearly there was some emotion behind the thoughts he had toward Florian’s mother. He stepped aside, allowing Florian to walk past him and into the hall. He turned and regarded Florian in silence for a moment before speaking.
“The debt I owe is something that can be repaid to you. Your mother lent me her assistance on several occasions. I performed a few favors for her in kind. The last favor owed however, I think…” He quirked his head. The movement was not entirely human. It was too precise, too otherworldly. “I think now is the time to return it to you.”
Without another word, the Chairman turned and made his way down the hall until he stepped into the den. Florian’s bodyguard was slumped on the floor, still breathing but clearly unconscious. Another figure stood in the den with his arms folded over his chest. The black haired young man made no comment as the two of them entered the room, merely continued to stare out the nearest window. The Chairman came to stand just an arm’s length away from the man and turned to face Florian.
“Do you want to change your life, Florian?” The question was asked gently. The demeanor of the Chairman shifted as he focused intently on the young Lysanrin’s response.
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 8:31 pm
by Florian
They must have been friends. It was an odd thought, to consider that his mother had friends — of course she did, but she would only leave Florian alone except to work, and while she would invite people for dinner, it was rare that it seemed to be someone she was friendly with. More those who had no other dinner to go to.
Friends. Florian stared at the bodyguard slumped on the floor. He refused to get to know the men who supposedly guarded his life — and a good job they seemed to be doing at it, considering the one was now unconscious — and he had no desire to change it. The room was otherwise desolate and empty of the three of them, and to see his mother's apartment so bare was again uncomfortable. He looked between the man and the Chairman as he asked the question.
"Mr. Chairman, my life has completely changed trajectory every season for the past year." He sounded a bit tired, but there was a hint of something...else. "The question of if I want to change my life is one I am no longer able to ask myself, but it is the first time it's been asked outright." Florian went quiet for a moment. Florian did not consider himself an overly curious person, but he was feeling itchy and trapped in the latest change of his life. It was a new season. It was time for another direction, and perhaps this one would bring him closer to what he had promised.
"What are you proposing, then?"
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2022 11:27 pm
by Paragon
The Chairman reached into his coat and withdrew a crystal vial that dangled upon a silver chain. Inside of it was contained a chromatic fluid that shimmered as it moved within the vial. He held it up to the light. The liquid caught what light was shining through the windows and amplified it, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that cast rainbows onto the walls. He covered the vial with his hand.
“Freedom.” The Chairman spoke that one word before continuing. “Freedom to go anywhere, to do anything, to be anything you wish. To play by no one else’s rules but your own.”
He extended his arm and let the vial dangle from his outstretched hand.
“Your mother gave me a similar freedom, once. I think it is only fitting that I return the favor to her son.” He said nothing more but merely continued to hold out the vial for Florian to take of his own volition. The rain continued to come down outside. The soft pelting of it against the glass window-panes filled the silence.
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Sat Jul 16, 2022 1:12 am
by Florian
Florian watched him and the vial. The kaleidoscope almost reminded him of cast magic. And then it was hidden. He looked between the vial and the Chairman, lips parted as if he were about to speak. He stood there in the rain-filled silence, his face blank. There was nothing much else to look at. He heard a quiet snore from the guard on the floor and his glance turned there.
"Freedom," he parroted. It almost felt like a challenge, a challenge conjured out of the aether, a challenge posited on Florian by Florian. He'd known of "freedom" as a euphemism for death, but there were worse fates. Florian reached with his prosthetic hand and grasped the vial. "How freeing can freedom really be?"
Regardless of what was supposed to be done with the vial, and before any instruction could have been given, Florian opened the it and downed the contents.
Re: who are you, really?
Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2022 5:04 pm
by Paragon
The Chairman watched as Florian drank the vial. He quirked his head in that inhuman way as he studied the Lysanrin in front of him. He brought a hand up to his chin and tapped one gloved finger before shrugging.
“Um…well…huh. I suppose that is one way.” It began almost immediately. As the liquid passed down Florian’s throat his entire body began to vibrate with energy. Expanding outward from the core of his abdomen, the twitching and spasms. Florian’s veins began to illuminate with the prismatic array of colors that were found in the vial that he had just downed. Florian began to experience an alarming loss of control of his body. The powers of his aether siphoning surged into motion, wracking his body with odd sensations that spanned the spectrum of physical experiences. From blistering pain to staggering euphoria, it all bombarded Florian simultaneously to the point that it inundated his mind with more information than it could process.
“I do believe we should find shelter, my dear boy.” The words were spoken as the Chairman looked at Florian but it was clear that he was speaking to his companion. Immediately the black haired man stepped forward and rest a hand upon the Chairman’s shoulder. Primordial cracks began to fissure across Florian’s body, as steaming pillars of aethereal mist began rising up. The Chairman went a bit wide eyed as he regarded Florian. All across Florian’s vision the world began spinning into a vortex of multicolored madness. The sound of rushing waves along with his own laughter, his screaming, his sobbing and his voice uttering nonsensical babbling faded in and out.
“Florian! Keep hold of yourself!” That was all the Chairman managed to shout before Florian saw a swelling of aether around the two figures in front of him. In a flash the Chairman and his companion were gone.
And then the sky cracked open with a roaring screaming that made the very foundations of the building quake and shudder. A visceral roar split the air and from out of the gaping maw shattering open the sky above the building, a veritable storm of the Dread Mists poured into being. Chaos had been unleashed upon Zaichaer.
And Florian’s body could no longer contain the power surging through him.
Blinding pain raged through him as his body fractured…and even more of the Dread Mists poured out from him as Florian exploded into a thousand fragments of prismatic shards.
----
The sound of rushing waves and the feeling of floating gathered around Florian’s consciousness. He was in a million places at once. Then he was nowhere. Then he was everywhere all over again. The sensation of being pulled along a rising current surrounded Florian. But he could see nothing but blackness.
But in the distance, there was a single point of light.