Eleven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bearshermark) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2021-08-15 02:22 pm
bearshermark) wrote in westwhere2021-08-15 02:22 pm
I'm unable to breathe amongst the crowds of frozen people
WHO: Eleven & OPEN
WHEN: possibly the whole arc?
WHERE: Taravast, various
WHAT: A catch-all!
WARNINGS: Will be added!
1. Of The People
Eleven took swiftly to formal meditation. It was a bit like prayer, he reasoned, just with more inward focus and for considerably longer. The only problem being an inability to easily drown out any variety of distracting noise.
But during one of his many walks through the city, he came across a small, modest garden almost hidden behind a block of crammed buildings. It was little more than an arrangement of green shrubs, scant patches of grass, and a swath of overgrown vines creeping over the far wall toward a thin strip of canal on the other side. Squashed between two lines of buildings as it was, the garden found itself shaded over for most of the day, but for a few short hours.
And for those precious hours of sun, it was perfect. The hidden oasis feel of it let him shed his mask and local wear, stuffing the garments into the charmed bag Lily had given him and free to sit in the grass comfortably in his own clothes. Bare face tipped toward the sun and the grass warm beneath him, he breathed and peace reigned so exquisitely that falling into that quiet focus was nearly effortless. It only took visualizing the sun's gentle warmth and the breath of life in the grass soaking into him to banish those lingering, wayward thoughts.
After an untold amount of time that was surely more than the requisite hour, Eleven found himself relaxed enough to lounge back in the grass, very nearly dozing. Probably, he shouldn't nap here. He was due at court soon enough, but.. surely, it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a short spell..
2. Court
The masks, Eleven decided, were off-putting. It was difficult enough to recognize the people he knew through them, and made conversation twice as difficult. People's expressions hidden, the tone or inflection of their voice distorted by full masks.. as though he weren't already out of his depth.
Although his spiritual healing classes meant a little less time spent around court than most, it was still exhausting. Surrounded by people he didn't know and roped into hollow conversations while attempting to feign interest in a political cause he could care less about.. All for the sake of maintaining an image that he was beginning to suspect wasn't unique to just their group. Everyone was hiding; everyone wanted something.
Half-heard conversations washed over him, strung together with words that either meant absolutely nothing or were inlaid with a meaning that could only be divined with enough context. For the first time, Eleven found himself grateful for his conversations with Lan Wangji- at least he could discern that much. And, having adopted a basic level of formal functioning as the Luminary, he only hoped it would be enough to endure.
Presently, Eleven found himself harried by a handful of men peppering him with questions about horses, then having heated debates about his answers. It took some time to understand they only cared because of some bets they'd placed on a race. He'd attempted to dissuade further questions by insisting he wasn't an expert in all things horse-related, but it only served to conjure up debates about whether or not he was right, or how sure he was about things.
"Forgive me," he interjected with some emphasis once he'd finally drummed up the courage to recite the rehearsed line. "There's someone I need to speak to before we convene for the day."
Which, as far as excuses go, he hoped it wasn't terribly obvious that it was a complete lie. Wary of eyes following him, Eleven attempted to look like he knew exactly where he was going, increasingly desperate to find someone in his line of sight that looked even vaguely like they might be expecting him.
3. Library
On gloomy days, Eleven took his studies to the palace library, attempting to commit the information on the papers in front of him to memory. But surrounded by bookshelves holding what promised to be far less dry material, he inevitably found himself perusing the shelves and indulging his newfound ability to read anything and everything over his actual work.
Titles of various books pulled from the shelves often had some apparent link to religion, mystical flora, or life and death. And sometimes, they were simply memoirs of someone that sounded vaguely interesting. It felt like being at the Sniflheim Royal Library, but without the threat of monsters.
Pleased with his current selection, Eleven wandered back over to a desk, then paused to find someone else sitting there.
"Ah... mind if I join you?"
4. Courtyard
On pleasant days, the palace courtyard served well enough. Unwilling to bring any books outside, Eleven made considerably more progress in reading through his lesson material. He compromised with a half-mask to appease any locals drifting through as he sat quietly on a bench, half-lounging and only intermittently distracted by his surroundings.
That was of course, until an unexpected wind took the few sheets set beside him and scattered them a short distance away.
With a gasp, Eleven pursued them, snatching the sheets before they could drift too far away- or Goddess-forbid, fall into the fountain- then watched as one landed at a person's feet. He followed their figure up to a mask, feeling sheepish and not quite bold enough to reach for it despite his outstretched hand.
"..Sorry to bother you, but ah, that's my paper on poultices.."
5. Gondola by Night
Dressed down in a familiar coat only his former companions would recognize with a purple half-mask to match, Eleven rowed sedately through dark waters reflecting the night sky.
The gondolas were larger and the water deeper than what he remembered from Gondolia, but he took to his perceived role as a ferryman with far more comfort than he had the cloak of nobility. He'd even become reasonably good at it, and while he had coin enough, the tips came as a nice bonus.
Eleven glanced up as a passenger dismounted and caught sight of someone standing near the edge of the canal.
"Can I take you across the water?"
6. City Offerings
It wouldn't be a proper visit to a new city without trying out the various restaurants and bars on offer. And once he had two masks and accidentally acquisitioned something like a second identity, it was less stressful to talk to people without as much concern for reputation. The place he'd chosen tonight was busy, and tables were swiftly filling to the point of even pairing strangers together. Just as well; the bar was full and eating on his own was far less enjoyable.
Certainly, it would have been nice if he could easily enjoy the company of those he'd befriended despite political affiliation, but Eleven buried such concerns beneath a drink or two and focused on enjoying a delightful meal and buoyant atmosphere.
He raised his mug in a friendly salute to the person forced to join him.
"Hope you're having a pleasant night so far."
7. Wildcard??
[ooc: feel free to hit me up with anything adjacent to these prompts, or if you'd like to work out something specific, Eleven's plotting post is here!
Happy to adapt to action tags or prose!]
WHEN: possibly the whole arc?
WHERE: Taravast, various
WHAT: A catch-all!
WARNINGS: Will be added!
1. Of The People
Eleven took swiftly to formal meditation. It was a bit like prayer, he reasoned, just with more inward focus and for considerably longer. The only problem being an inability to easily drown out any variety of distracting noise.
But during one of his many walks through the city, he came across a small, modest garden almost hidden behind a block of crammed buildings. It was little more than an arrangement of green shrubs, scant patches of grass, and a swath of overgrown vines creeping over the far wall toward a thin strip of canal on the other side. Squashed between two lines of buildings as it was, the garden found itself shaded over for most of the day, but for a few short hours.
And for those precious hours of sun, it was perfect. The hidden oasis feel of it let him shed his mask and local wear, stuffing the garments into the charmed bag Lily had given him and free to sit in the grass comfortably in his own clothes. Bare face tipped toward the sun and the grass warm beneath him, he breathed and peace reigned so exquisitely that falling into that quiet focus was nearly effortless. It only took visualizing the sun's gentle warmth and the breath of life in the grass soaking into him to banish those lingering, wayward thoughts.
After an untold amount of time that was surely more than the requisite hour, Eleven found himself relaxed enough to lounge back in the grass, very nearly dozing. Probably, he shouldn't nap here. He was due at court soon enough, but.. surely, it wouldn't hurt to close his eyes for a short spell..
2. Court
The masks, Eleven decided, were off-putting. It was difficult enough to recognize the people he knew through them, and made conversation twice as difficult. People's expressions hidden, the tone or inflection of their voice distorted by full masks.. as though he weren't already out of his depth.
Although his spiritual healing classes meant a little less time spent around court than most, it was still exhausting. Surrounded by people he didn't know and roped into hollow conversations while attempting to feign interest in a political cause he could care less about.. All for the sake of maintaining an image that he was beginning to suspect wasn't unique to just their group. Everyone was hiding; everyone wanted something.
Half-heard conversations washed over him, strung together with words that either meant absolutely nothing or were inlaid with a meaning that could only be divined with enough context. For the first time, Eleven found himself grateful for his conversations with Lan Wangji- at least he could discern that much. And, having adopted a basic level of formal functioning as the Luminary, he only hoped it would be enough to endure.
Presently, Eleven found himself harried by a handful of men peppering him with questions about horses, then having heated debates about his answers. It took some time to understand they only cared because of some bets they'd placed on a race. He'd attempted to dissuade further questions by insisting he wasn't an expert in all things horse-related, but it only served to conjure up debates about whether or not he was right, or how sure he was about things.
"Forgive me," he interjected with some emphasis once he'd finally drummed up the courage to recite the rehearsed line. "There's someone I need to speak to before we convene for the day."
Which, as far as excuses go, he hoped it wasn't terribly obvious that it was a complete lie. Wary of eyes following him, Eleven attempted to look like he knew exactly where he was going, increasingly desperate to find someone in his line of sight that looked even vaguely like they might be expecting him.
3. Library
On gloomy days, Eleven took his studies to the palace library, attempting to commit the information on the papers in front of him to memory. But surrounded by bookshelves holding what promised to be far less dry material, he inevitably found himself perusing the shelves and indulging his newfound ability to read anything and everything over his actual work.
Titles of various books pulled from the shelves often had some apparent link to religion, mystical flora, or life and death. And sometimes, they were simply memoirs of someone that sounded vaguely interesting. It felt like being at the Sniflheim Royal Library, but without the threat of monsters.
Pleased with his current selection, Eleven wandered back over to a desk, then paused to find someone else sitting there.
"Ah... mind if I join you?"
4. Courtyard
On pleasant days, the palace courtyard served well enough. Unwilling to bring any books outside, Eleven made considerably more progress in reading through his lesson material. He compromised with a half-mask to appease any locals drifting through as he sat quietly on a bench, half-lounging and only intermittently distracted by his surroundings.
That was of course, until an unexpected wind took the few sheets set beside him and scattered them a short distance away.
With a gasp, Eleven pursued them, snatching the sheets before they could drift too far away- or Goddess-forbid, fall into the fountain- then watched as one landed at a person's feet. He followed their figure up to a mask, feeling sheepish and not quite bold enough to reach for it despite his outstretched hand.
"..Sorry to bother you, but ah, that's my paper on poultices.."
5. Gondola by Night
Dressed down in a familiar coat only his former companions would recognize with a purple half-mask to match, Eleven rowed sedately through dark waters reflecting the night sky.
The gondolas were larger and the water deeper than what he remembered from Gondolia, but he took to his perceived role as a ferryman with far more comfort than he had the cloak of nobility. He'd even become reasonably good at it, and while he had coin enough, the tips came as a nice bonus.
Eleven glanced up as a passenger dismounted and caught sight of someone standing near the edge of the canal.
"Can I take you across the water?"
6. City Offerings
It wouldn't be a proper visit to a new city without trying out the various restaurants and bars on offer. And once he had two masks and accidentally acquisitioned something like a second identity, it was less stressful to talk to people without as much concern for reputation. The place he'd chosen tonight was busy, and tables were swiftly filling to the point of even pairing strangers together. Just as well; the bar was full and eating on his own was far less enjoyable.
Certainly, it would have been nice if he could easily enjoy the company of those he'd befriended despite political affiliation, but Eleven buried such concerns beneath a drink or two and focused on enjoying a delightful meal and buoyant atmosphere.
He raised his mug in a friendly salute to the person forced to join him.
"Hope you're having a pleasant night so far."
7. Wildcard??
[ooc: feel free to hit me up with anything adjacent to these prompts, or if you'd like to work out something specific, Eleven's plotting post is here!
Happy to adapt to action tags or prose!]
no subject
Eleven hums shortly as he quietly guides the gondola along the river. While he isn't a local to have a list of recommendation, at least he can rule out the necromantic district, and likely taverns with ease.
"The theatres and gambling halls are well-attended this time of night," he offers after a moment. At least his experience with the locals have given him that much familiarity. "..But if you'd prefer quieter company, I'd recommend the waterfront of the theatre district. There always seems to be some sort of small performance to listen to whenever I pass through."
no subject
Goddess, is she that obvious?
"Quiet does sound appealing. As does the theater."
This way, he gets to enjoy the performance himself. She's always loved stories, in general. They were a comfort to a child who lived afraid, and later on a refuge to a young woman forced to hide. "Thank you, by the way. You've impeccable timing."
no subject
"Glad to be of service," he returns once they're gliding smoothly down the river again. "I hope the performance tonight will be suitable to your taste. If you find it isn't, I'll be happy to bear you elsewhere."
no subject
"You've taken to this ferrying business quickly."
He understandably has some difficulty pinning her down, both in the dimness of the night and with her mask firmly in place. Perhaps that is why removes it briefly, if only so that the initial familiarity can set into place.
She is no threat — not to him.
no subject
"I like it," he admits freely. "It's pleasant work most of the time. The only thing people want from me is a smooth ride across the river, and I'm more or less qualified for that. And sometimes.. I meet new friends."
no subject
"It does sound far more simple than most of the roles assigned to us. I don't blame you for the reprieve."
And it does put him in the position to meet new people ... friend or foe.
no subject
"I'm one of the luckier ones, I think. But.. I'm not good at court." He doesn't have the manners or patience for it- though he's working on the latter. "I hope your role isn't too awful."
no subject
She's been learning, of course — learning cunning from Wrath, trickery with Greed. But playing a part does not come second nature to her, and she has to actively try. Taravast is practice, in a sense, for when she arrives to the Seven Circles proper.
"I am to play the catch of the season. I ... suppose it could be worse."
But she's heard enough sonnets to last her a lifetime, she thinks.
no subject
"That sounds.." he hesitates, thinking quickly for a substitute. "Ah, challenging." Goddess forbid he'd had to play eligible bachelor; the thought doesn't bear thinking about.
Strains of music drifting over the water tell him they're swiftly approaching the theatre district. He shifts his attention to the lights and dancing shadows ahead, steadily drifting them nearer.
"My name is Eleven, by the way. I'm not sure we've met..?"
no subject
It was to her unending regret she failed to see the warning signs with Vittoria. By the time she grew aware of this failure, it was too late. Ever since, Emilia's committed herself to cataloguing every detail. To never miss anything of importance.
And so she took stock of everyone following the harpy attack, once she and other newcomers joined the caravan. She took stock of Eleven among them, and knows him to be acquainted with Lily, and nothing else beyond that.
"My name is Emilia di Carlo. It's good to meet you, Eleven. As in the number?"
no subject
The lights and music grew brighter and louder, a voice discernible and carrying over the canal.
"..Perhaps it's something of a musical show they're playing?"
no subject
Allison having a brother named Five did make her wonder, briefly, if there was an association there. But Eleven is very kind and Five ... is Five. She'd say more to this effect, but the music snags her attention and Emilia looks over.
"They do know how to make things lively, don't they?" she asks, her voice not quite wistful, and yet. Emilia hasn't been in a festive mood, but there is no denying Taravast's beauty, for all that it is dangerous, too.
no subject
"Yes," he agreed warmly, easing them to idly drift. "This should be enjoyable." And it was nice too, that he'd get to stop long enough to watch himself.