532/Mizuki Meets Ariamis

Mizuki Meets Ariamis
Date of Scene:	03 September 2014
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	After a show of celestial fireworks in Mizuki's backyard, Priscilla sees fit to invite the little author to her home, the Painted World of Ariamis. Monologues ensue.
Thanks to:	Priscilla for being Priscilla.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, 183

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Priscilla has posed:
    The directions Priscilla leaves for Mizuki lead her down into the winding corridors of Njorun's deepest levels, past the ordinary hangars and into the high security regions, and then into outright vaults. One such sealed room is accessible by password only so the woman who had given it out can freely come and go, and yet the inside is completely blank save for a gargantuan, two storey painting dominating the far wall, looming overhead so that it looks like it might fall and crush someone at any minute. For someone like Mizuki, the idea of going /inside/ the painting is probably far less strange than most, though rather than a clean hop through an extradimensional surface, the gate between worlds is more like a viciously turbulent whirpool, making for an unpleasant experience being pulled through.

    The painting of Ariamis is just as it has been for centuries, and possibly as it always will be. The perpetual twilight of that alien, green light filtering through the permanent haze far above casts the blankets of snow into the same colour, having piled up and sat there for who knows how long. The distant sound of wind through the mountain pass and the faint, echoing calls of birds and beasts punctuate the otherwise dead silence. The bridge is a non-issue for someone who can fly. Rather, the glowing beacon of the bonfire across from it should look familiar, as several of them have come up around Lordran, though how this one burns completely disconnected from the mainland is a very good question. A long time ago, someone seems to have arranged impromptu seating around it, mostly made up of repurposed church pews, dragged out in their entirety. Priscilla herself waits at the obvious location, looking remarkably comfortable for being in a place that could be politely described as "desolate".

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    In all truth, she hasn't been to Njorun many times before, and she sees very little difference between the 'restricted access' areas that she finds herself wandering through now and those that are more publicly available. Metal here, metal there. Metal everywhere. She never really has known what to make of the 'sci-fi chic' so ubiquitous in Union installations, so if we're being honest? She's weirded out by the station itself than she is the painting. In fact, seeing Priscilla's austere 'foyer' is akin to going back to her own home. Breathing in the air of the private vault just to demonstrate this feeling to the multitudes of nonexistent onlookers observing this scene as we speak, she is quick to step through the painting when she arrives.

    ... but not so quick, perhaps, to recover when she arrives on the other side of the chasm from the bonfire. She staggers for quite a while, supporting her head with one of her hands as she fights an only marginally successful battle against the sudden rush of disorientation. But the time passes quickly as it is wont to do, and she has fully recovered before too terribly long. Or maybe she gave herself the time not to make a fool of herself. Such is the convenience afforded to her by her particular strengths, after all.

    Though, she doesn't see fit to pause time as she slowly strolls across the old wooden bridge. No, no -- simply looking has a profound enough effect on her as it is. Time has been known to quicken in realms such is this for her; she becomes lost in the beauties and wonders of the nature, the... oh, yes. As they had discussed a few nights before, the -stagnation-. This place feels as unmoving as a lake frozen under ice in an eternal winter, which is an apt enough analogy considering... the *snow*. Oh, the snow! She has to fight somewhat to contain her excitement when she realizes that the entire world is blanketed in it. Really, she needs to remember to scatter more snow about her world. Yes, yes; mental note.

    But all of the reveries and reactions aside, Mizuki does arrive at the bonfire with the halfbreed... in her own, good time. Curious thing for a chronomancer to be fashionably late, but this one is quite often. But at least she arrives humbly and with a smile, giving Priscilla a polite bow as she approaches.

    "It is nice to see you again, Priscilla. Your foyer was rather austere, but I must say..." She breaks her gaze away from her to look up at the sky, gesturing upwards. "... the world itself does not disappoint in any capacity."

Priscilla has posed:
    "It has not been so long since last we saw each other, has it?" Priscilla sounds as if she'd be offering a welcome smile if that's the kind of thing she could actually do. "I am not so certain 'foyer' wouldst be the best of descriptions. This painting was once enshrined somewhere far more grand, along with the other works of Ariamis. Now it is merely the necessary measures to keep it safe from others, and to keep others safe from it." Though the snow doesn't actually appear to be falling at the moment, Priscilla dusts off the front of her dress anyways before standing up. Also despite the snow that is already on the ground, she crunches through it as barefoot as ever as she moves over to the massive gates, slowly pushing one of the doors aside to make room for the both of them to go in.

    "Such is easy to say from the outside, but please reserve thyself for now. Though this is a place of peace now, it was not always so. Many others hath come and gone and interfered in their own way. Where we go bares countless marks from the actions of those who wouldst retreat to such a remote place as an ideal location for practising arts which should not be." Her tone is much less welcoming than it was before; trying to lower Mizuki's expectations so that she isn't shocked by the first thing she sees, whatever it may be. Thankfully, the resident hollows haven't been loitering around the front entrance today, having likely gone off to the cliffside, and so the open gate merely reveals the courtyard. Snowed in more heavily than the mountain outside, piled up without the wind to drive it off, only the upper halves of dozens upon dozens of grave markers can be seen, cropping up all over like stone weeds. Their ramshackle placement implies that they had been added one by one when somewhere else had run out of room, clustered all the way up to the inner walls. The granite of the statue of a mother and child dominating the center is old and worn and stained with something rust coloured, but the names engraved on the graves look as if they have been done a year ago at most. The only off-putting thing, save for the heavy impression that this place feels as if it was once something a castle full of people lived their lives around, is the pile of corpses around the base of the monument, covered in discarded old shields and spears.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Too demure to cop a smile? Mizuki will just smile radiantly enough for both of them then. It may be rather strange, how positively chipper she seems to be; the general consensus among visitors would probably state that the effect entering this world has on the psyche is 'sobering'. For this particular girl, though, it seems to be more 'energizing' than not. Or perhaps sobering feelings just translate into that for her? Whatever the case, her anticipation is obvious.

    "Well then," She fixes a finger triangle to her chin as an artist would when critiquing a work, "I might wish to see the other works of this 'Ariamis'. But very well. I'll not think of the conditions outside as any part of what I'm seeing here." She lays out her palms in one of her characteristic shrugs. "Not a very difficult distinction to make, that." Priscilla's feet -do- get an inquiring stare, actually; the other times they had met there had simply been too much going on for her to notice, but... she really isn't wearing shoes, is she? And right on top of snow? She quirks an eyebrow. "I daresay I'm not the only one here that lacks biological inhibitions that might prevent one from more fully enjoying the weather~." She's certain that Priscilla has some variety of extraordinary power -- most all 'Elites' do, hence the name -- but she still hasn't the foggiest idea what, exactly, she can do.

    Though, questions like that are best reserved when there isn't so much else to see and do already. And clearly, her curiosity needs to be tempered by caution, as even the woman who calls this place home is warning her of potential dangers. She does her best to restrain evident feelings of excitement for the time being, clearing her throat and moving her hands back into a more neutral position. "Understood."

    As the doors slide open, the room beyond... garners a more critical sort of look. Her eyes narrow and forehead scrunches just slightly as she examines the environment. There's no shortage of people impaled by spikes, no. And are those... bodies, clustered near that statue? She shakes her head gently and moves her hands behind her back. "Hmm." She cocks her head slightly to the side. "Indeed. I feel as though the cemetery off to our side is but one inside of another, larger iteration of itself." But the ghost of a smile is able to sift through the unnerving feelings as she turns back to Priscilla. "Not that that feeling is off-putting in the least. So long as we don't end up mingling with any of the corpses, of course."

    It's not a supernatural ability or anything, but to herself, Mizuki is taking some time to 'meditate', closing her eyes and attempting to visualize what life might've been like here, before the ruin. Reflection is just the sort of thing that places like this deserve.

Priscilla has posed:
    "The other works of Ariamis, presumably, art still held within Anor Londo. It is not so surprising that this particular painting didst unify seperate from the rest, considering the degree to which reality hath been warped here." She gives Mizuki a strange kind of look in return to that eyebrow. "I am half of a dragon. Not the treasure hoarding, maiden eating, two winged dragons that seemeth to populate the multiverse. I lack the need to eat or drink, the capacity for sleep, and so much as a heartbeat. If the cold troubled me, I wouldst hath gone mad long ago." That expression becomes something of a grimace as she finally opens the door for Mizuki to see, and then faintly relieved as the girl does her best not to judge. She can sense that she isn't totally at ease, but it's a better reaction than most.

    "There were a great many corpses, yes. Most here were fortunate enough to simply die when this place became afflicted with the Darksign. Only a handful were cursed, whom may rightfully be envious of the dead. None here were meant to die of mortal aging, and so there was no proper room for a cemetary. I . . . made do however I couldst. I was not nearly so old and wise then." Moving in past the gates, Priscilla starts to cut through the courtyard with light, unhurried steps; her presence eliciting the hoarse croaks of ranks of crows clustered atop the crenellations to either side. Fully inside, one can glimpse into the buildings that lead directly into the open ground, some meant to be exposed to the open air, such as in the case of a chapel where the pews were taken from, now bereft of religious iconography of any sort, and some simply left to the elements by their doors falling off, such as in the case of what may have been a workshop and a storehouse, if only judging by the derelict tools and containers left waiting for their owners who will never come. The castle is extremely vertical, with most of its facilities stacked upon each other until one gets a faint sense of vertigo standing in the middle of it all and looking up. Moving past the statue and pushing through the doors to the dark, ominous hulk of the castle keep, larger shapes perched atop the walls glower down at Mizuki with beady eyes; much too big to be crows, and making noises even more unnervingly human-like than the birds are already known for. "Come. I hath little interest in showing thee the sites and relics of heretics, outcasts, blasphemers and sinners who should treat this place as their hideout and now finally their prison."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "This 'Anor Londo' had my curiosity piqued already, but now you say it is home to phenomenal works of art as well?" She widens her grin. "Your Gods will be hard pressed to keep me from entering with that tower of theirs; I'm far too interested now to leave well enough alone. But of course..." She turns her gaze away again, eyes scanning the world around them. She breathes in deep. "... one masterpiece at a time, yes? One masterpiece at a time. It would take far more than writhing masses of flesh to dissuade me from peering further. Indeed, if that were the case there would be a great many worlds in which I would fear to tread. 'Writhing masses of flesh' are what my perceivable self is modelled after, after all~." She permits herself a tiny giggle there. Probably the sort of joke Priscilla would understand, even if it wasn't in the best of taste.

    The following words confirm several of Mizuki's assumptions, while also bringing a great many new queries to the forefront of her mind. Nevertheless, she bobs her head along, taking each bit of information as it comes. The allusions to... other... sorts of dragons er a playful sort of scoff. "Pffff! Oh, yes, yes -- the dragons of Western boy's tales. Don't fret, those stereotypes are easily -- and gladly -- forgotten in favor of what I am hearing about those of your world." She rests a cheek in her palm. "Interesting that you should lack so many mortal needs, however. Suddenly, it's no great mystery why you have a sort of inner quiet that many of them could not even conceive of." A more friendly grin that time. Perhaps one of understanding? Or even... admiration, tough it's certainly very well disguised if that's the case.

    She becomes more reticent when she recounts the deaths of the 'visitors', however, closing her eyes and emitting a small 'mmm' when the explanation has finished. "At the least, it was good of you to try to imitate their nuanced rituals of passing. Even if they will never know it, you did them a kindness that a great many souls of this world, and indeed, any other world, could not and would rarely care to replicate." Pause. "And I've always thought that there was something poetic about the lives of those who sit in the interstice between life and death, helping those wayward mortals to move on when they can. Yours is a subverted rendition of those tales if it could even be compared to them at all, to be sure, but still..." She audibly clasps her hands together. "My whimsy compels me."

    If it wasn't clear enough by the way she's begun to speak, she is quite calm here now. Calm enough to make gentle quips and less-than-serious observations of things, clearly, but even so much now that she is able to not be the least bit afraid of the bird-man beings that she notices spying at her. Rather than reacting in a frenzied, flustered manner as some would, she greets them as politely as she had Priscilla before: with a bow. It may be meaningless to the creature, but if this is anything like her world, whether or not they recognize it is irrelevant; the respect is still recognized, in some abstract way, and it is always beneficial in the future. But as always, Priscilla's words leave Mizuki little time to engage in these sorts of nonchalant gestures, drawing her instead back into a wistful reflection on what sorts of people had come through here. Perhaps this is why the next words out of her mouth sound a hint... prophetic:

    "Ironic that avarice leads people here, and that by the time they have lost themselves in the rhythms of their own greed, they then lack the ability to see the true treasure: the world itself." She lowers her gaze somewhat as they walk. "Of course. For their sake and for ours, it is best not to linger in their shame. But as I'm sure you agree, they are to be pitied more than anything -- they knew not of their own self-destruction as they careened ever toward their imaginary, obscene apotheosis."

Priscilla has posed:
    Finally, Priscilla tries to offer a Mizuki a smile to the first words out of her mouth, but it doesn't go so well. "I hath begun to doubt that the gods wouldst try to stop thee. There is the possibility that they hath simply become entirely fixated on keeping outsiders outside, but then I am beginning to worry that they may hath simply abandoned it altogether. Of course, there is no use worrying until we see the city itself, but I cannot help mineself. I onced called it home." The comment about 'writhing masses of flesh' actually manages to get an awkward, stilted little giggle out of her, apparently sharing Mizuki's macabre sense of humour. "The Hollows here hath been centuries in mine care. I like to believe that they still remember me, as I still remember their names. Unlike the feral creatures now plaguing Lordran, hungry for little other than the souls of travellers, these keep to themselves unless disturbed."

    Though Mizuki's manners and lack of desire to touch everything seem to be doing her well (unlike the last group of Unionites who had come through here), Priscilla gently pushes her by the shoulder away from the crow demons, suddenly taking on a much more serious tone. "Those, however . . . there is little need to respect them. Though in some part of mine heart I pity them, those twisted forms art well deserved penance. They knew what they risked whence betraying their goddess." Though they hardly look like they were human to begin with, Mizuki will just have to take Priscilla's word that they were before suffering some old-fashioned pagan god punishment. The talk about dragons however, is tell timed, because going through the gloomy, silent interior of the keep tower; footsteps echoing from the high gothic walls; brings the pair out onto the lower of a pair of bridges, the top one of which is host to the corpse of some enormous creature with wings, horns, teeth and claws. Despite its atrocious state of decay, being little more than bones, it does /sort/ of look like a dragon, though the sense that it shouldn't be disturbed is intense and immediate; like stumbling on a large, dangerous, sleeping animal.

    "There was a dragon that onced lived here. Fantasy and make-believe like all the other inhabitants, and not of the kind we speak of, but I held him dear nonetheless. A romanticised vision of dragons from civilized people who lived in ages so far removed from the ancient war that none truly remembered them. Sanitized by the passing of time. The true, everlasting dragons, existed for aeons before the First Flame. Possibly forever. Before the formation of the world, before the existence of the first soul, and before the beginning of time itself. Beings of complete and total entropy, at ease within a world completely still, immersed in the Ashen Mist in which all possible futures art contained. To liken them to a scaled beast that breathes fire and sometimes speaks is a woefully inadequate at best." One might imagine it'd be painful for Priscilla to talk with Mizuki about burying so many people, but even the girl should know that hundreds of years are enough to heal any wound, even if some faint scar should still remain. "If anything, I mineself may be the one here between life and death, and clearly I hath been the one to guide these souls who couldst reach their end, and to shepherd those who couldst not. In truth, I yet feel the obligation to put to rest even the Hollows of Lordran, however mad and violent they may be. Perhaps no other than I knows that they can be any other way."

    The bridge is almost as long as the entire castle before it; little more than a straight path of solid stone, supported over the yawning chasm on the other side of the mountain by utterly massive pillars, and watched over by smaller towers along the way, most of which lie in various states of ruin. Tall railings have been erected to either side in case the wind should blow across such an empty expanse, but the air remains gentle and still. The only destination is a circular, layered tower at the very end, rea

Priscilla has posed:
    The bridge is almost as long as the entire castle before it; little more than a straight path of solid stone, supported over the yawning chasm on the other side of the mountain by utterly massive pillars, and watched over by smaller towers along the way, most of which lie in various states of ruin. Tall railings have been erected to either side in case the wind should blow across such an empty expanse, but the air remains gentle and still. The only destination is a circular, layered tower at the very end, reaching to the same heights as the tallest point of the castle, yet extending for what looks like miles into the abyss below.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "At the very least, a God's disinterest is something I can understand. If indeed they have averted their eyes, or departed outright, I would pass no judgement upon them. Maintaining worlds like these, generation after generation, toil after identical toil, can become quite a chore. I suppose I would feel sympathy for those left behind if..." She shuts her eyes somewhat tightly again, squeezing one hand in the other. "... if their plight wasn't so... enchanting... at the same time. Truly, there is something about worlds like this one that stand on the precipice of some great change that delights me. The torment of those caught in betwixt is, as any moral code would tell you, horrible, but the lessons that conveys to the sufferers... -that- is something that has always fascinated me for all the time I have watched people for." Her words become a bit distant, and she's slowly slipping into her own mind as she walks onward. "I become lost in such stories almost every day."

    She shakes her head suddenly, the fog in her eyes clearing somewhat. "-- ah, but you must forgive me. I'd rather I didn't make you think I was as depraved as those of the confederacy on account of my fascinations. No -- I always want to help where I see strife, but ah, the drama of it all can be hard to ignore." She gives a more reserved, almost meek sort of smile. "An author's dilemma, you understand..."

    Once she has finished, she walks on in silence a while, allowing for some time for the 'stench' of her words to clear out of the area. Just in case she said something she shouldn't have. She nods as Priscilla makes reference to the birdmen, and gives a final, passing glance in their direction before the pair leaves them behind. So many stories, encapsulated in such a seemingly small area. But when they walk beyond -- oh. Mizuki stops and tenses up a second on the sight of the dragon, her eyes growing just a bit wide. Her stupor is quickly eradciated by... what is quite possibly the most tantalizing gob of information delivered by Priscilla thus far. She turns her head and begins to nod along again with rapt interest, the twinkle in her eyes only ceasing once her words have had time to drift out on the non-existent winds. Her own response is some time in coming, but it is abundantly clear by the aura she begins to radiate after that she is thinking. Deeply.

    "And a part of you belongs with these dragons of yore, I take it." Mizuki nods to herself. "What a fascinating flux you are." She shakes her head in a quiet sort of disbelief. "What it must be like the be you, I can only fathom..." She seems ready to trail off into strange avenues of thought and conversation again, but she stops herself, instead biting the bait of another, equally interesting, but likely more appropriate topic.

    But I didn't say it wouldn't be controversial.

    "Humans and their kin." Mizuki lowers her gaze, stopping in her tracks to gaze off of the bridge a moment. "Always the harbingers of chaos, aren't they. Truly, for them, change is glorified above all else." She bites her tongue. "... I'm certain that I don't need to ask whether you've contemplated whether Frampt is in the right. Whether... it would be wise to continue this... well. The rest is just speculation on my part, but is this cyclical? Has the 'dark' come and gone already?" She half-turns to look at Priscilla now. "Should the first flame be kindled at all? For those of us who may gaze into the abyss of infinity, what is another ten-thousand some years with light when the shadow of darkness looms ever on the horizon?" She turns to face her more fully, gradually. "After all, neither one is 'good' nor 'bad'. These heuristic, loaded terms were devised by beings that needed some similar aperture with which to view the ramifications of their actions. But this..." There's a quick, sharp sort of pause. "... the light is not -good-, nor the darkness -bad-. In the end, there shall be difference, but in spite of what the forces that be may say... I'm not entirely convinced that inspiring another age o

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    "Humans and their kin." Mizuki lowers her gaze, stopping in her tracks to gaze off of the bridge a moment. "Always the harbingers of chaos, aren't they. Truly, for them, change is glorified above all else." She bites her tongue. "... I'm certain that I don't need to ask whether you've contemplated whether Frampt is in the right. Whether... it would be wise to continue this... well. The rest is just speculation on my part, but is this cyclical? Has the 'dark' come and gone already?" She half-turns to look at Priscilla now. "Should the first flame be kindled at all? For those of us who may gaze into the abyss of infinity, what is another ten-thousand some years with light when the shadow of darkness looms ever on the horizon?" She turns to face her more fully, gradually. "After all, neither one is 'good' nor 'bad'. These heuristic, loaded terms were devised by beings that needed some similar aperture with which to view the ramifications of their actions. But this..." There's a quick, sharp sort of pause. "... the light is not -good-, nor the darkness -bad-. In the end, there shall be difference, but in spite of what the forces that be may say... I'm not entirely convinced that inspiring another age of light, another age of hollows and needless sacrifices and desperation-driven madness... is in /anyone's/ best interest." She pauses for a good, long while, letting her errant thoughts hang for a spell.

    "But I suppose," Her tone relaxes somewhat, "that that is a bridge we may cross as we come to it. For now, I will continue to aid you and Frampt as I have been so that I may learn more, and absorb more of the sonnet. But always I will keep these musings in the back of my mind. Whether... it would be nice, to allow this one world to sleep into the calm serendipity of eternal night, where dragons roam and the curious mistress of 'sapience' need hold no sovereignty over the world any longer." Mizuki's countenance quickly begins to shift into a grin, and she begins to snicker just slightly, again. "My -goodness-, this is verbosity exceeding even -my- norm. Pray, forgive me. I'm just inspired, and I'm rather delighted to know that there is someone on the 'positive' end of the Multiversal Spectrum who may yet be accepting of my unusual, questionable ideologies. Taking a breath, she looks again down the bridge. Her next words regain some semblance of humility: "My, what a long and reticent road...~"

Priscilla has posed:
    If Priscilla is judging Mizuki for anything she's said about Lordran, it must be very, very quietly. "Thou art fond of stories, yes? Then it wouldst only be natural. The idiom of it being darkest before dawn, as a stage set with a crisis at its breaking point, meant entirely for the hero yet to come. Yes, it does seem like something of the beginning of a legendary tale, of which we art partway through. It seems that thou art more entranced with the potential for salvation than that of the suffering of people itself. Perhaps . . . eccentric, by human standards, but I cannot judge. The Hollows shalt not become any deader."

    Her mood does, however, begin to drift at the next topic Mizuki broaches. "Thou art not entirely wrong in thine thinking, but uninformed. Where other worlds art built upon elements such as water, earth and air, or science, faith and magic, our existence revolves around the dichotomy of Fire and Dark, as I spoke to Sir Arthur of the evening before last. Though darkness may not exist in the presence of a flame, and a flame may not exist smothered in darkness, it is entirely possible for neither to exist at all. There was no Dark before Fire. No Cold before Heat. No Silence before Sound. No Death before Life. The Age of Ancients, in which the dragons ruled, was not an age of Dark, but one of the Ashen Mists between. While I mineself wouldst not entirely begrudge a return to these times, extinguishing the First Flame will not cause the Dark to cease to exist as well. What wouldst become of the world without the First Flame is not easily theorized upon. As the gods and their creations art all beings of the Fire, it is likely their existence could no longer be without the Flame. Even humans, who bear a tiny piece of the Dark within themselves as their Humanity, lead not a happy existence without the world around them filled with life. If there is some opposite; a world of the Dark, filled with creatures or even peoples who hath never known Fire, suited only to a seperate world as the antithesis of all life, it wouldst be deep within the Abyss. None venture there. Even Sir Artorias, known for walking its edges due to his covenant with whatever inhabits it, was eventually destroyed by its influence. In the worst case, perhaps the Abyss shouldst rise as the Flame diminishes and swallow the world; however the other half of mine heritage is a being of Fire, not of the Dark, and so I wouldst not wish to see such a place. There is no certainty a cycle couldst be possible. It is unfortunately, entirely plausible, that once the First Flame goes out, rekindling it couldst become impossible. The 'heat death of the universe', as worlds based upon science call it."

    With that lengthy discourse completed, Priscilla seems to have reached the end of the bridge with Mizuki in tow. There are no gates awaiting them, opening instead onto a floor of the tower completely open to the elements; a platform that serves as the base of a breathtaking vista of the mountains all around, and yet the dizzy heights manage to feel remote and utterly at peace under the twilight sky against the sounds too quiet for true nature. The "statues" that the first Unionites to have ever made contact had seen, are long gone. Priscilla likes this area free and clear, even going so far as to sweep the snow from the stones. More important than simply showing off the view, she leads mizuki up the circular stairs around its perimeter. The stairs that go down appear to have been forcefully shattered, as well as the entire floor beneath it, leaving the curious blackness down below completely inaccessible. If Mizuki strays too far to the edge while looking down, for that instant, the void is suddenly full of sound; noises echoing from the deep. A neverending stream of whispers falling over each other like the waters of a turbulent brook, laid over an implaceable sound felt more than heard, like a single, endless note of some alien bell or chime. The longer one listens, the more one begins to imagine the noises as voices, like the way humans

Priscilla has posed:
    The stairs that go down appear to have been forcefully shattered, as well as the entire floor beneath it, leaving the curious blackness down below completely inaccessible. If Mizuki strays too far to the edge while looking down, for that instant, the void is suddenly full of sound; noises echoing from the deep. A neverending stream of whispers falling over each other like the waters of a turbulent brook, laid over an implaceable sound felt more than heard, like a single, endless note of some alien bell or chime. The longer one listens, the more one begins to imagine the noises as voices, like the way humans see faces in otherwise random patterns.

    Priscilla isn't going to let her stay there even if she wants to however, tugging her by the arm if she has to. The floor above is actually closed in by a lot of thick, heavy cloth hung from the arches, stolen from some kind of tapestry that once hung in the castle. The space is clearly where Priscilla lives now. Whatever the tower's original purpose, it now serves as a remote, safe location to be away from her "subjects". The interior is lit with the flicker of candles, though how she hasn't run out of them in centuries is suspect. Articles of furniture that look like they could have once populated a princess' room have been moved up here, all save for any sort of bed or resting place, giving the area kind of a homey if sad and forlorn atmosphere. The floor is mainly dominated by a rug laid out under dozens of strange charms, talismans, chunks of material, herbs, tools, and even some odd things that look alive; all placed around a basket of what looks like woven granite, in which burns what looks to be a monochromatic negative of a flame. The dresser is empty of clothes, instead stuffed like the cabinets full of everything precious that once had its rightful place in the castle, far away from the touch of Hollows, demons, crows, and snow. Piles of books and scrolls, religious ornaments, statuettes and models, fancy weapons and expensive tools, even going so far as to include an anvil and sewing loom. Very clearly, a younger Priscilla had moved everything that reminded her of how the castle was, and taken it all to a sort of stone treehouse.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    In the wake of Priscilla's response, Mizuki is left uncharacteristically quiet. For an even longer time than before, she withholds any sort of verbal response, instead electing to nod along with what she says and listen. It's a long time indeed before she does finally conjure words, and even when she can, it's nowhere near as substantial as what she had offered before. "... in keeping with my metaphors and bookish tendencies, 'there can be no shadow without the sun'. Except in this case, this is mutual between both forces." She nods to herself. "So it's a matter of balance. Funny, how in all my ravings about the non-existence of absolutes I failed to capture such a crucial detail." She quietly bows her head. "But I thank you very much for the clarification still. A system in which both of the opposing forces need the threat of one another to survive... makes quite an interesting scale indeed." There, finally, she lets the topic rest. She seems a bit quieter now, perhaps a bit humbled, but not at all upset. At the most, she may be lamenting her own haste in making judgements that could impact other worlds -- but of course, as a being of denial and imagination herself, 'responsibility' never really has been her strong suit.

    Her new, somber mood is certainly conducive to aimless, overly curious examination of things, however, and she is quick to wander where Priscilla would expect her to -- the edge overlooking the abyss. Rather than looking down, though, she seems most taken in by the view of the mountains. She stands still, finally surrounded by a sort of silence that seems fitting around her, even in spite of how talkative she usually is. For as long as her 'hostess' allows, she stays there, standing off into the distance until her eyes wander down.

    And then whispers rise from the abyss. At first, she's unsure if it's the howl of the snow rather than something else... but eventually, she becomes certain: there is something mystical at work here. This area is special. But before she has any more time to fixate and become curious, and before she has time to lean any further toward probable doom, Priscilla gently tugs at her wrist. Thankfully, that's all that it takes to get her to move. She gives her a silent nod in thanks before following behind her again.

    Soon, she finds herself in Priscilla's 'home'. Here, Mizuki immediately folds her hands and makes other, subtle gestures of something resembling reverence. She eyes several of the trinkets that Priscilla has collected, where they are visible, and quietly studies the room without any further comment. It seems that, if anyone is to speak here, she wants it to be Priscilla first, but she does quietly murmur something once they've been there for several minutes. It sounds like something along the lines of 'This seems like a place of great personal import. Thank you for allowing me to be here'.

Priscilla has posed:
    "Balance is a thing many philosophize over and many more strive to achieve, but all aside from physical balance that can be measured with a scale is impossible to achieve. Like a scale however, as one side falls, the other rises. As far as I am aware, the world is a finite place, and in finite space, the more light, the less dark, and the same in reverse. As the Flame grows stronger, the world of men, beasts, magic and gods grows and flourishes, and the Abyss is kept to its corners, thus the reverse must be true. I simply see little reason to allow the other world prevalance." Priscilla manages to say such in a concilliatory tone, as if telling Mizuki not to take her responses as if being told off. She has a sharp enough tongue that when she starts contradicting people, she leaves absolutely zero doubts about it.

    Allowing someone into her room is a rare occurrence indeed, only having happened once before under Nathan Hall's joint supervision. Not wanting to coddle Mizuki by fussing over her mumbling, Priscilla instead moves to one of the cabinets filled with books, picking out one in particular with the kind of unerring memory that can only come from years of familiarity. Gesturing towards one of the seats, she takes one for herself and cracks the old tome open, paging through several chapters in Lordran's history to the one revolving around Gwyn's ancient war. The text is a copy of one over a thousand years old, written by a scribe in apprentice to one of Gwyn's founding knights. Coming to rest on a particula page, she holds the book up so that Mizuki can see it; a splash of two images, both of the same creature. Though the illustration shares many characteristics with classical dragon, the being depicted seems to be scaled in solid stone or metal rather than something organic, and silver-grey fur runs from the base of its massive horns down its spine and tail. It also appears to have a set of four wings with reverse claw facings rather than the usual two, and a second set of jaws behind its teeth; eyes nothing but pure quicksilver. The alternate diagram is done without colour, obviously meant to be some sort of anatomical drawing, but aside from a skeletal and muscular structure, it lacks any organs whatsoever. The entire thing is a loving rendition meant to preserve the image of the everlasting dragons in perpetuity by the knights who had once fought them, but is also obviously, judging by its writing, an extremely high level clerical text meant for only the most elite echelons of a religious order.

    "Since it seems to be a subject of interest to thee, I will allow thee to borrow this text until thine curiosity as to what came before me is satisfied. Whence I did summon thee, it was as a grey phantom, which means I believe thou hast the potential to fully understand. In the case that our tasks take us somewhere where the Ashen Mist still remains . . ." She picks up one of the objects from the rug; a little silver orb of some glassy material with what looks like a slit pupil inside of it that always faces the direction one looks into it from; handing it over to Mizuki. "A token of the remnants who yet worship the dragons in hopes of trascending their humanity and their souls, and thus escaping the cycle of life and death. I am uncertain as to what power dwells within it, but I hath little need of it mineself. The reasons shouldst be obvious."

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    The gentler tone Priscilla takes in the final clarification of their earlier discussion does in fact seem to help - Mizuki's expression and eyes quickly regain much of their prior radiance, and yes, coyness, as she finishes, her nods becoming more powerful and less subdued. The sheer obviousness of this change may surprise the halfbreed; the notion of someone who could manipulate the fabric of the heavens for a magical star show seeking her approval, or anyone's approval for that matter, may seem silly. But whether it's a character flaw or a unique quirk that makes her stand out from other deific figures, it would seem that she is much more invested in the opinions of others than she lets on. A bit like a child, really, in spite of the big vocabulary and the general ability to follow along with what Priscilla is saying.

    Which may be why, when Priscilla is going to fetch the book, her expression eases in a way that looks very bizarre on her. Her cheeks puff, and in that invisible moment in time, her eyes are... clear. Exactly like a child's might be, really, and with all the playful snark that one would show to a parent figure that was ignoring something they very much wanted for them to acknowledge. She is, however, exceedingly careful as she does so, forcing her expression back into place as soon as she turns to face her again. The only hint may be a lasting rosiness on her face, but that could easily be misconstrued for other things, couldn't it? For her sake, she certainly hopes that Priscilla isn't that perceptive.

    Regardless, she is well beyond glad to sink into the delightful serendipity of a book. Any book would've done, but she could not have picked a better one in this case, and Mizuki quickly moves to the seat that Priscilla indicates, gluing her gaze to the pages as soon as they flip open. She squints her eyes for a good, long while when she realizes that the diagrams of the dragons lack any organs, but eventually accepts that they likely existed before such biological factors rose to prevalence. They are likely more magical beings, if truly they are defined by anything at all, so this sort of absence makes sense. Especially in keeping with the general motif of absence that their infinite epoch seemed to incorporate.

    And she was just getting involved when Priscilla starts talking again! But as soon as she speaks, her attention tears, her ears perking to listen to what the woman has to say. And before she knows it, she has a rather curious orb that looks quite like an eye in her hands! She tilts it around in attempt to get a better look at it. The bit on 'life and death' seems to get her attention, and finally, she opens her mouth to speak again.

    "I've no real need to transcend life or death either, as you could imagine," She takes her eyes off of her newfound 'prize' to look at Priscilla, "but you are quite right that I am interested, and I may yet explore this. Researching what constitutes unending life and the mentalities of those possessing such things is very much in line with my goals indeed." Turning back to the book briefly, she also adds, "And thank you. I swear upon my name as a Curator of Creation that I shall keep it safe from any forms of harm, and see that it returns to you safely." Wuh-oh. Now she's throwing around the titles.

Priscilla has posed:
    Fortunately for Mizuki, Priscilla is neither good at reading people, not in any way familiar with children. The girl in the room with her is just another human-like person she barely knows, and yet understands better than most, perhaps due to not actually being human. She seems to let go of the book with a great deal of reluctance; not especially wanting to part with it even though she's read it so many times she could write it out from memory if she had to. Still, the expression approximating joy on Mizuki's face manages to melt her thoroughly cold heart just a little more, making her feel gladdened in some sense that someone else can enjoy something that defined so much of her childhood; sharing in the same experience.

    "Indeed, thou possess less of such urgent, human needs, but in such a way, perhaps thou hath less ground to cover in order to reach that lofty ideal. With centuries of experience, perhaps these mysteries shalt unravel to thee as they hath almost to me." Finally, an actual, genuine smile at Mizuki's earnestness in swearing to keep the book safe. It's still and ill-practised, but it's there plain as day. "As thou shouldst, and as I trust thee to do so. Thou art a librarian of sort. The other librarian I know of didst treat mine possessions with more than adequate care, and so I will believe for now that it runs in the occupation." That said, Priscilla allows Mizuki all the time in the world if she wants to stay and read it, until such a time as she feels the need to go home herself, at which she sees her out, if completely unnecessarily. It seems the crossbreed still has some things she intends to do on her own, because she doesn't follow Mizuki out of the painting.