losthunter | carve out the secrets hidden inside ((Faris, Schön))

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carve out the secrets hidden inside ((Faris, Schön))

Hunter has been pretty distracted the last few days, working on his large marble project. Working on marble is lot more messy than any painting he has done before. He has a large drape cloth covering the majority of his art studio, to protect the floor from marble dust.

The carving takes time too. He has made a lot of good progress on the upper-half, that if someone tried hard enough to figure out what he was making, they would see the initial signs of a Chimera being carved out of the stone.

But even with the desire to complete this project (which seems to be consuming him at times), Hunter has not forgotten about Faris. Or that he still wants to try to help Faris to find his door, and the one person who has the ability to do that is Schön.

So, Schön was invited over the apartment, so they can discuss Faris' situation and hopefully find his doorway. Right now, Hunter is dusting, so there is no excess dust in the air before his guest arrives.

[posting order Faris/ Schön/ Hunter]

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Faris draws himself up a bit, unable to resist the prideful urge. "I am a poet-warrior of the K'da. I am not averse to risk. But I do wish to learn if it is a reasonable risk first. I do lack both context and understanding of this magic, so I must learn through questions."

You would think the thin man would have known the consequences of needling someone from a proud warrior culture, but he couldn't possibly...

"The opportunities I represent are not swift in leaving," Schön assures them both, "at least not leaving the Nexus. I am quite comfortable here. As for questions, hmm. For the promise of three of your people's poems, I will answer any twenty of your questions plainly and truthfully. Knowledge is precious, knowledge of magic especially so."

This time, Hunter is quiet, letting Faris make any questions or comments to the offered deal.

"Three poems? You wish only to hear them, or possibly have them recorded, but not claim ownership of them, correct?" Hey, no harm in being careful. He's heard things about humans, and while Schön might not be one himself exactly, Faris still doesn't know the difference. "Does the subject matter?"

"A thoughtful distinction to make, sir. Yes, I would like to record them, and no, I will not claim ownership of them. Subject does not matter, although preference is given to the works your people would consider obscure."

"What do you think, Faris?"

Faris considers this. It certainly doesn't seem objectionable. "I would appreciate the chance to share my people's culture under these circumstances. It may help serve as a memory of us, should we lose the war."

((OOC: So sorry for the prolonged absence! I thought we'd have wifi at our chosen vacation spot and we didn't.))

((Quite alright, these things happen. Welcome back.))

"Then our bargain is struck." Again, there's that momentary feeling, as though the world is a resonating bell, as the terms of the agreement are set. "We may make the records at your convenience."

Hunter had to smile slightly, when Faris struck his deal. It seems that both of their deals were reasonable, and definitely complemented their artistic sides.

"We can go out looking for the door as soon as you are ready."

"But since I have these gloves, I would like a moment to show you both my dream. If you are still willing."

"Of course." Faris sits down on his haunches, head cocked attentively. "We should resolve this issue first, if that is indeed possible."

"By all means," Schön agrees, finding someplace to lean before the illusions start. He'll be watching two things closely--the illusions themselves, and Faris' reaction to overt magic.

Hunter takes a moment to close his eyes, and think about what he remembers about the dream. Then, when he moves his hands to create the magical illusion, his hands move like he is painting the scene.

And thus, the illusion comes alive like it is a huge painting, surrounding them.

The scene changes, until the apartment room is changed into a night club. And then the dream comes alive for all of them.

He finds himself in a crowd of faceless people. There are so many people around him that he finds it hard to move. There is a light smoke filling the area, like he is inside a club. There are flashes of color from strobe lights, which makes it harder to see.

But even with the difficulties to his senses, Hunter knows where he is -- he is in the same club where he had tried to plead with Kendra to change his curse. And his instinct is that he is there to find Kendra once again, but this time for entirely different reasons.

He pushes through the crowd quickly, twisting and turning through the maze of faceless people. It does not take long before he spots Kendra herself. She is dancing in the middle of the crowd.

Unlike the last time, Hunter is able to reach Kendra with ease, until he finally places a hand on her shoulder. "Kendra..."

"Hello Kyle..." She tilts her head, her hair a bright blonde, twisted up into dreadlocks just like the night when he had sought her out to break the curse.

"I have been looking for you."

"You have sought with only your eyes. You are not ready to truly seek me out," Kendra moved to walk away from him. Hunter followed her.

"What is this all about Kendra? There must be a reason why you and I still have this connection... And I want to know why."

Kendra stopped to face him again. Hunter noted that this time, there were not that many people around them. "You know why. You must face the reason yourself."

"Does this have something to do with your magic? The curse?"

"Who was truly cursed, Kyle? Can you see, or did you become blind like your first love? Can you truly find me, if you are not looking everywhere." Kendra moved closer to him, putting her hands on his arms. It felt so real.

"I am trying as hard as I can..." Hunter answers. "I know that something is missing. I am doing my best..."

Kendra tilts her head again. "You must look within yourself. You have to be ready to find answers that might be a little difficult to face."

"How do I do that?" Kendra answers him by leaning close to him. Hunter closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel her magic and her power, just by standing close to her. He could feel a tingle of energy go through his body.

"Look for the Monsters, Hunter. Look for the Heroes. Look at things differently than you normally would. You must take the first step... by yourself..."

Faris can't help but be slightly disappointed. Magic has been hyped to him a bit and this seems no more complex than a hologram. Still, there is no apparent technology that he understands at work here, so he must be interested for science's sake at least.

Besides, the content of the display is far more important, and he listens closely, his long ears perked up to catch every nuance. He's not an expert at reading human body language and social cues, of course, but perhaps he can learn something of use.

((And now it's my turn to apologize for the long delay.))

That Faris is unfazed, if somewhat underwhelmed, is no bad thing as the thin broker counts things--another display might have been more impressive, true, but might also have impressed the alien against the concept in general, which Schön would consider a net loss.

With the reaction gauged, he can turn his attention fully to the illusion surrounding them. He walks around in it a little, scrutinizing details of the setting as closely as he follows the conversation.

When the show is done, he smiles, clasping his hands with a clap. "Well! The young lady is refreshingly direct in her riddle. How nice."

Edited 2016-07-26 02:28 (UTC)

"Both times I dreamed of Kendra, the setting was the same. That night club, where I first embarrassed her..." Hunter hangs his head slightly.

"And I try to understand what she wants me to do, but I feel that I still struggle."

"Monsters and Heroes," Faris repeats, letting the words roll around on his tongue. "Who are the monsters and who are the heroes, I wonder?" He ponders something else. "She called you Kyle?"

"The place where your actions revealed your nature," Schön supplies. "For who would have guessed, to look at you?" Schön is trying to coach Hunter toward understanding without simply giving him what seem to be answers--as is often the case in magic, the journey matters.

"Kyle was the name I used to use." Hunter answers Faris. "It was my name when I knew Kendra at school."

"I changed my name to Hunter when my appearance changed."

"The way I treated her... was very monstrous. It was cruel and unnecessary."

"Kyle was a monster, even though he matched the ideal appearance for most people. And the thing that bothers me... is she still calls me Kyle."

The idea of two beings in one isn't quite so strange to Faris, although this isn't the type he's familiar with. "You believe that some part of Kyle still exists within you?"

"Of course he does," Schön puts in. "The worst parts of Kyle were a sword, heedlessly swung--wounding with little care from the wielder. That sword is sheathed, but carried still." Turning to Hunter, he adds, "you can remember the things you used to say, the things you used to do. If you chose, you could do them, say them, again. The sword is not yet beaten into a plowshare."

"And it is hard to reflect on that part of me, without just seeing the worst part of myself." Hunter runs a hand over his forehead with a deep sigh.

"Everyday, there is a choice to make, about things I do and things I say."

"A weapon is not only a tool of destruction and dismay," Faris muses, wondering if there is some element of poetry at work here, some allusion that might lead them down the right path of questions. "It may be used as one, yes, but it is the intent of the swordsman that matters, does it not? It may be used as a tool of protection and honor, if correctly used. Sometimes the correct action is to leave it sheathed, but to render it useless might be incorrect also."

Whatever the path of their questions, Faris' speculation earns a respectful look from Schön. "Thus, perhaps, the distinction between heroes and monsters."

"So perhaps there was a weapon I had in my skill-set, that I was not using properly?"

Faris bows his head slightly. "It is a path worth pursuing. Many young warriors are so eager to demonstrate their skills and prowess that they are reckless, and must learn from tragedy. But tragedy is a learning experience also, if a harsh lesson to learn from. It is from mistakes that the greatest warrior learns when to act and when to stay his hand."

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