aionlogs | The Door Opens

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The Door Opens

WHO: Emet and open to any Kenoma
WHAT: After being confined, Emet gets out and explores
WHERE: Various locations around Achamoth
WHEN: Three days after this.
WARNINGS: None right now.

After his exit from the dinner party, Emet-Selch appears in his room amidst a billow of black and purple. He can immediately sense a change in the air, as if there are eyes watching him from some undefined place. The presence is the familiar one from the Dining Hall.

He inhales deeply and sighs. "Oh? Have I earned your attention now? How gracious." He takes a few steps to a luxurious cushioned chair and sits. As if in reply, the bolt on the door to the room clicks shut.

I. Days Later, The Door Opens
It becomes clear that the room is meant to be his prison. With no clear exit, fixtures that are impervious to magic or tampering, no assistance from the outside, and no food or water, the thought does arise on whether it is meant to be a grave as well.

Three days on and the lack of nourishment has made him weary. Thinking turns difficult, as does all else. He resigns to sitting in the same cushioned chair with his head resting on the back, eyes closed as he tries to gather his thoughts for a viable solution. There is a book on his lap that he has since stopped reading for lack of clear focus.

It's then that the bolt to the door clicks noisily, indicating that it is unlocked. He drearily peeks at it from across the room.

Emet-Selch stands - steadies himself with a hand to his forehead - and makes for the door. Finding some food and water would need to be the utmost priority.

II. The Library
It seems that the natives take particular 'notice' of his presence. People part in an effort to avoid him as he moves through the crowd on his way to find the Library. Many give the mark on his wrist a disapproving glance. Nevertheless, Emet-Selch can't help but give a small smile of delight. "A true blessing to move about wholly unbothered." He comments. Perhaps the Regent's ire is owed a commendation for this one thing.

He sighs. "Although that does make finding the Library a much more laborious task." So he explores as much as he can in order to find a room filled with books. Perhaps it would have more about this world. Or the meaning behind the sigil he now bore.

III. Magic Lessons
With that excursion out of the way, now comes the matter of looking for a place to work. There must be some open field or facility meant to train individuals - this city has a military, after all. So he sets out to explore the Citadel.

Once he finds a suitable open area, Emet-Selch begins to work. His magic has been strange to him since arriving and this is a good opportunity to work on it with so few people vying for his attention.

He lifts a palm into the air and tries summoning his creation magic to make the smallest of things. Any observers may see him motioning at nothing in the air with his palm, a few glimmers of magic sparking in the air now and again as he tries to conjure. Frustratingly, nothing seems to take form...

IV. Other?
HMU If you'd like another prompt!

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Gen stiffens when that sword suddenly bursts into existence, expression hardening a touch. Partly just because it's a startling sight, but partly because he's internally kicking himself for his own dumb mouth -- he doesn't particularly like dealing with blades, and he'd only mentioned a sword as an example.

But he's not about to show any signs of balking now after running his mouth and acting strong.

So Gen ends up taking a short breath before stepping forward to (try to) take up the sword. It's probably obvious at a glance that he hasn't had much training so far, his hands struggling for a moment before finding their grip. But he has good instincts and just enough experience doing physical work; his movements are decisive and determined as he tries to lift the sword.

... and tries not to think about how ridiculous this probably looks as he shoots Emet-Selch a slightly nervous glance to ask, 'now what?'

"Now," He says as if to respond to that unspoken question. "You must use the desire to protect others and fortify your strength with it. Your allies depend on you to be their shield, and you cannot fail them no matter what you face."

Emet-Selch closes his eyes and holds both palms skyward. "Feel the resolve that your desire conjures within you and call to it. Permit it to consume the darkest parts of your heart. And then -" He holds a hand out in front, though he does not make it a point to cast any magic. "Let it spill out into the world to consume those who stand before you."

It's nonspecific, and purposefully so. Each person has to interpret the instructions in their own way.

This all sounds like something from those bullshit meditation playlists or whatever he sees online sometimes. There's doubt obvious in the way Gen hesitates for a long moment before trying to abide by Emet-Selch's words. Closes his eyes, adjusts his grip on the sword's hilt, takes a deep breath. Inhale, then exhale, slow and hoarse. Again.

And though he's not conscious of it, a faint shiver works through the ground below his feet as his concentration deepens.

Too focused on the thoughts that Emet-Selch has told him to conjure, he doesn't hear the tiny skittering sounds of pebbles vibrating, grains of sand bouncing in place as another shudder works through the ground, just barely reaching where Emet-Selch is standing.

Edited 2022-04-15 05:13 (UTC)

Emet-Selch, on the other hand, feels the slight rumbling under his feet. He spares a glance down to the ground and sees a few pebbles skittering along in the grass. Ah, progress. Good.

"You must concentrate harder." He orders with an authoritative tone. "Guard those you care for with your entire being. Everything that you need to protect them lies dormant within you." He puts a hand to his chest. "Release it."

The tremor that runs through the ground intensifies as his focus deepens, Gen's breaths quickening into rasping huffs as he visualizes as Emet-Selch tells him. Concentrating so hard he can hear his pulse echoing in his ears, sweat beading at his brow, building to a peak until he hears the cue -- release.

There's a sudden crunching sound as the ground beneath him fractures, cracks cobwebbing outwards from where he's standing, and having unleashed that deep focus, Gen's so startled by the noise he ends up jerking back. Stumbles back one, two steps before stumbling over his own feet and landing on his ass, still awkwardly clutching the sword.

"... you --" Sounding a little breathless as he stares at the fractured ground. "-- you didn't do that, right?"

When the ground finally cracks, Emet-Selch has to take a step back to avoid the rubble.

"I did nothing but observe." He gives the boy a small smile. The look on his student's face is so bewildered by casting a spell. Others could be so dismissive of spellcasting, so seeing sincere emotion in the face of new magic is always a small joy.

"Most are not able to produce such results the first time." He moves a foot forward and pushes a rock aside with his shoe. These words are as close to a 'good job' as he would give. "Would you like to try again?"

He did this. He managed to do this. -- when was the last time he felt something like this? A sense of accomplishment over something new; the feeling of actually growing stronger.

"... holy fuck. Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it again."

His pulse is still echoing fast in his ears as he scrambles back to his feet, his hands shaking a little from the excited adrenaline rush. But before he raises the sword once more Gen properly faces Emet-Selch and blurts out, "-- thanks."

That gratitude is weeks late, honestly, but at least it's totally sincere. Gen actually looks his age for once, and there's a remarkable contrast between his usual surly attitude and the earnest, almost respectful look he gives Emet-Selch now.

"I didn't think it was actually possible. Learning magic. So -- thanks."

"It seems you have the capability for magic and manners after all," Emet-Selch comments with a good-natured shrug.

He walks a few paces away from where they had originally stood before turning around and waiting expectantly for his student to follow. The short amount of steps also serves as a chance to recuperate as learning new magic can tax the body and mind. "Come. Unless you would rather practice in a self-constructed ditch."

Though the comment about his manners earns a little frown -- because it's not like he can't be polite, he just doesn't bother unless he feels someone deserves it -- he holds his tongue. Besides, he's much more focused on the elation of this new experience at the moment.

Even if his knee buckles when he first starts following after Emet-Selch, forcing him to prop himself up with his sword to keep from falling over and take a moment to blink away a wave of dizziness. Damn, this stuff's more exhausting than he expected.

"... you get better at it with practice, right?" Gen doesn't otherwise acknowledge the fatigue, forcing himself back upright after a pause and trailing after the other. "You made it seem pretty easy. -- how long'd it take you to get like that?"

"I will not bore you about the tales of my misspent youth," Emet-Selch says with a dismissive flick of his hand. Though 'bore' and 'not wanting to explain' may be mutually exclusive.

"Bear in mind that magic is like any practiced skill. There is no trick to it; it takes time, endurance, creativity, and hard work. Work which will tire both body and mind." He motions to the ground. The look of fatigue is not lost on him, nor is it unexpected. "Now sit."

... must've taken a long-ass time, if Emet-Selch doesn't answer his question. What -- forty, fifty years? Longer? Though the guy doesn't look that old. Gen's still giving Emet-Selch a dubious look as he tries to puzzle through that line of thought, and gives a small start when he's told to sit.

"I'm fine." That indignant answer's blurted out almost reflexively, and Gen tightens his grip on the sword even as his stance wobbles slightly. The strain of magic is a little different from the sort of simple physical fatigue he's more used to. "I can take this much. -- you just said it takes practice, didn't you?"

Not like he's a particularly hard worker under normal circumstances. But this is special -- for once, he actually really wants to push himself to improve as much as he can, as quickly as he can.

"Practise, amidst an assortment of other important things."

Emet-Selch motions to the open area. "Try again if you like. I will not stop you. I simply intend to observe and provide any further assistance that I may." Although if he sees too much fatigue develop in this fledgling magic user, he fully intends on making that sword he's leaning on dissipate. See if he could stand without it.

'Try again,' Emet-Selch says, and stupid hot-headed youth that he is, Gen takes it as a direct challenge. He huffs as he trudges to a spot with clear footing, taking deep breaths as he repeats the motions once more, Emet-Selch's advice ringing in his head.

It turns out he's a quick enough learner once he's been taught the basics. The buildup to this second burst of energy is faster, the ground below his feet crackling with after a few moments of focus. But precise control is harder to pick up, and the release of energy this time heralds a smaller-scale shattering of the ground -- along with an explosion of chunks of dirt and rock from underfoot.

A particularly large piece of which goes ricocheting straight in Emet-Selch's direction.

Without the ability to teleport, and without the necessary confidence in the shield magic he had been trying to conjure, there are few options he has in which to avoid what comes his way. So he does the tried-and-true method to avoid such things: ducking. How primitive.

He can feel a breeze as the chunk of rock 'whooshes' by his head. That was very close.

Emet-Selch puts a hand to his back to brace himself as he stands. There is a clear glare on his face. "Very good. Perhaps try controlling yourself this time." Although he realizes complaining without instruction will do no one any good.

"Your magic will run wild if you do not provide it with the proper restraint." Emet-Selch closes his eyes and puts his hands in front of him. "You must tether it to the area in which you want it to go. How far, how fast, the potency of which the spell - these depend on your level of concentration and control." He opens his eyes again. "Focus on the area around you which you want the spell to go. Visualize it reaching that mark and hold it there. Do not let it past that. Pull back your effort if you must."

"So. Let us take one aspect of what I have mentioned and concentrate on that first: Potency." He motions to the ground with a hand. "Use the same spell, but focus on it being only effective enough to stir the surface. Destroy nothing."

"... right." A pause before he adds at a lower mutter, "My bad."

It's partly that he doesn't want to apologize, of course. But also, he's kind of startled by how meager Emet-Selch's response to that danger was? He'd fully expected that piece of rubble to be swatted aside like nothing with some sort of flashy spell, so seeing it simply dodged in such an inglamorous fashion feels ... weird. (Note to self: maybe Emet-Selch is actually kind of frail despite his magic?) His curious stare lingers, but he does move to abide by those additional instructions after a moment.

"Potency." Gen echoes those words quietly as he tries to focus. "-- focus and visualize ..."

He's clearly struggling to abide by that last bit -- 'destroy nothing.' Even as he manages to make the ground at his feet ripple, pebbles dancing upon the jittering surface, he can't prevent tiny fractures from starting to run across the ground. He's never been the type to hold back when it comes to causing damage, after all.

Though maybe it also has something to do with the fact that he's starting to look obviously drained, sweat damp at his brow and chest heaving with quickening breaths. Still stubbornly maintaining his death grip on that sword even as fatigue starts weighing heavily on him.

Emet-Selch watches carefully. He looks down as the rumbling of earth precedes the cracks in the ground. It's different than the previous attempt, yes, but it's not controlled. Still. He lets the fledgling magic-user proceed as he will. There is no learning without effort and mistakes. Perhaps he can refocus his efforts.

As the spell continues, it becomes more apparent that he's straining more than he should be. Pushing is one thing, but forcing oneself to death's door is quite another.

"Enough." Emet-Selch slashes a palm through the air and the sword he had summoned dissipates in streak of glittering white light. See if he could stand without it.

Oh, no, absolutely not. The instant the sword dissipates into so much glimmering light that slips through his fingers, Gen ends up spilling messily across the ground with a startled yelp. Whatever magic had been rippling through the earth at his command fizzles out from the shock, and it takes him a moment to process what's even happened.

"-- hey." He shakes dirt out of his hair as he arduously sits back up, but any protest he raises is pretty half-hearted. "I could've held on a little longer ..."

... or maybe not, actually. Because he only manages to stay upright for another moment or two before just flopping back down on the ground, trying to ward off a wave of dizziness washing over him. -- yeah, fine, on second thought. Emet-Selch was probably right to stop him there.

As he thought.

Emet-Selch approaches and kneels down at Gen's side. "Before we conclude our lesson today, I must share one last piece of advice:" An important piece of advice given what he's seen so far. "Magic will use the energy around you as well as the energy within you. Pushing yourself past your limits can be just as fatal as any wound."

He rolls a hand through the air. "So. Perhaps you'll consider my suggestion of sitting next time?"

With that, He reaches out and calls on his healing magic. The green wisps spring to life and surround his fledging student with the same cooling sensation as before. It will not cure fatigue like this completely, but it would provide some sense of relief.

"Fine, fine. I get it." Too bad it's difficult sounding flippant and dismissive when his words come hoarse between ragged breaths. Stubborn as he is, Gen doesn't bother trying to maintain that tough facade when he grumbles, "... I'll keep it in mind."

Besides, he can't suppress a little sigh of relief when that healing light takes the edge off the fatigue weighing heavy on him. Not that it's a completely cure -- everything aches enough that he can tell he's still going to need most of a day to sleep off this exhaustion -- but it's still an incredible help.

Which makes it all the more unexpected. Emet-Selch might have agreed to help him learn magic, sure, but something like this isn't a necessary part of that, right?

"Hey. Are you really doing all this just for the cause?" Gen speaks wearily, but his gaze is fixed on Emet-Selch's face. Gauging the man's demeanor as he continues, "Am I supposed to do something for you? A give and take. Or something."

His hand is let fall back at his side and the healing magic ceases along with it.

Emet-Selch's tone is sincere as is the expression on his face. "The only thing I implore you to do is give your all for our cause." And he means that in every sense of the word.

He sounds listless while he explains. "I have seen countless tragedies unfold, countless kingdoms turn to dust, and precious lives squandered on the account of our world's imperfections. A few mere magic lessons are nothing compared to bolstering our chances to see a better world for us all."

If this guy's a liar, he's a very good one. That look of sincerity he's wearing certainly seems flawless, with a weary cadence to his words to match. It's actually so earnest that it makes his skin crawl a little, and Gen stares for a moment before rudely mumbling, "... y'know, you really don't look like that much of a good guy."

(Talk about gratitude. After Emet-Selch even healed him.)

Still, while it's in his nature as a surly teenager to shy away from anything earnest or honest, it's not like he's actually rejecting what's being said. And as he slowly, wearily sits back up and scuffs a hand through his hair, Gen mutters, "I was planning on it anyway. Doing what I can. If that's really all you wanted."

Begrudging agreement is agreement nonetheless.

"Indeed, it is." Satisfied with that answer, Emet-Selch stands and lets his hands fall at his side. "Though, if you are feeling generous, I would most appreciate it if you would learn to control your magic so that I do not have to endure the lasting pain of projectiles sent my way."

He rolls his shoulder. Even if he'd avoided this one, his back would certainly remember for a little while.

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The Door Opens

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