eachdraidh | 001 | video | open to both courts

[ The locket is floating.

It’s the only explanation for the view that the item gives – a young man, out on the walls of one of the castles, the moon curved behind him. His arms are crossed in front of him, not touching the device as it records. Black eyes (all black, like the depths of the sea) regard it for a moment and then one hand moves, gestures at the locket. ]

Well, well.

[ His head tilts, and while his lips don’t turn up, one may get the feeling that he’s smirking. ]

I must say, this is an interesting turn of events. One that even I did not see coming.

[ His voice is almost monotonous, but there is something like music in it – like whale song. ]

To be pulled away to the Drabwurld, asked to take part in this war. I wonder if they truly know what they are doing. [ His hand returns, head moving back so that he can look straight at the camera. ]

I hear there was a battle. One should expect such things, in war. I suppose I should ask about it. [ He doesn’t. Instead- ]

Tell me, Shardholders, something... interesting.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Once upon a time.

It used to be that if you knew where to find a certain drinking shop on a certain island in the Sou'winder Sea you could buy silence. This was back in the world I came from. The silence came in glass bottles. It was a drug, or a religious experience, whichever the buyer liked the sound of more. You opened them up in private and you inhaled— [Hissss, he drags in air between his teeth, eyes closing for a moment.] Had to be private. The fucking stories they told about what happened to people who opened them in company...no one knew for certain what would happen, but one phrase kept cropping up again and again: the quiet cages.

I bought a bottle and tried it. Alone, as instructed. Not a thing. [Shrug.] It took me a while to understand that all they were selling was anecdotes. You open the bottle alone, and whatever you tell yourself happens, you can report to others. They didn't think of it as a scam; they thought of it as selling an artist a canvas. A few years after this I ended up back there. Thought I'd take a walk to see the old, ha, haunt. I found the shop deserted. Asked around to find out why. Most people didn't know what I was talking about. Those who did shook their heads and said, "The quiet cages." And fuck all else.

Your turn.

The quiet cages, [ the Outsider muses, tilting his head. ] Did you ever find out what they meant?

There once was a beautiful woman, rich and powerful, but proud. Emperors asked for her hand, but she found them all wanting. When she did marry, her husband took her to a far-off land, and she learned magic. She learned how to keep herself from dying, how to create charms out of bone that would protect her as the streets outside her home became filled with more and more thugs. She loved her new god, and eventually killed her husband and built charms and a shrine out of his bones.

His body still rests in their old home, and she tends the plague rats that flock to her feet, and no one suspects that the strange old woman they see digging through the trash was first the most sought-after bride and then the most brilliant of magic students. No one suspects that the thugs sent to her home that don't return haven't fallen into the river drunk, but instead have been devoured.

No. I never even found out whether cages was a noun or a verb.

Who sent the muscle, and why?

A man they called Slackjaw, born to a prince and raised by whores, though his men often worked for themselves to seek out extra coin. When the time came, the old woman bound Slackjaw and made him watch as she prepared a stew for him.

[ That is, for him to be the main ingredient in. ]

He learned, then, that the one he called Granny Rags, that he remembered as being old even in his youth, was far from frail.

[A laugh.]

That's good.

How sweet, that she kept her husband. Intact, I mean. And un-nibbled.

She did give his bones away, to a boy who rose to torture and to a man who had been tortured by him. But that simply means that he may last even longer than she.

And where were you in this? How do you know the story?

I watched. And when she proved to be truly interesting, I was the one who taught her the spells.

So are you the god she loved or just a priest?

The former. I have no priests; my worship is done in the shadows, behind locked doors and in alleyways. The Overseers are always watching.

[Another hissing, needless exhale. Hum.]

Should have known. Gods and their need for constant stimulation.

[Reasonably amicably. He's mostly interested in the fact that this god (self-proclaimed, but most gods are, and who is he to judge) has been dragged here just like anyone else.]

It would be a boring existence, otherwise.

[ The Outsider is rather interested in that himself -- interested and a bit upset, especially with many of his powers either gone or lessened. ]

Surely.

You preside over—what. The sea? Magic? [He's been at least skimming the Outsider's other conversations; he's gotten the sea connection from Kaldur. Well, what, is he just supposed to pretend he hasn't noticed all the other discussions going on? The Outsider isn't the only one prone to boredom. Or asking questions.]

I represent the Void, the chaos that it is.

[ He doesn't quite preside over it, but he represents it. ]

And with that, I am the source of magic in the world I am from. The sea... It is an important part of the current state of things.

001 | video | open to both courts

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.

video.