[It's after the appearance of their fourth little puppet at the well that Thancred slips his way to be anywhere BUT the well. First to collect his thoughts, and then to find someone else.
He can't seem to pin down Urianger in his normal spot on the second floor. But as he glances through the mismatched shelves, he pauses when he does spot a different familiar face.]
Ah... Amaya.
[It's quiet. He hasn't forgotten their awkward first conversation. It's why he's kept his distance these first few days. But they're not going to get anywhere if he keeps avoiding her. So he tries to start gently.]
One would wonder if you feel home here, tomes on every side. It suits you.
[Amaya's probably the closest to a neutral state she's ever been, after her conversation with the fourth puppet. Maybe there is something weak in her, to being understood; to not being seen as someone in need of fixing, but someone who simply views things from another lens. It's...strangely nice, after some of the reactions she has gotten, though she knows that keeping an air of unity will be better for people's sanity in the long run.
The library is mostly a place Amaya tries to organize, and thus, Thancred can find her cleaning it a little; she does seem to be reading some sort of non-fiction book, at least from what can be ascertained from the cover, but when she hears his voice she pauses.
The words he said still sting, of course, from the other day. But...she may as well put her money where her mouth is, so to speak, and turn to face him crisply, all with that same blank stare that seems to betray nothing.]
...I seem like the sort who buries herself in books, hm? [...] You are not wrong, actually. Tomes, biographies, even fantastical tales...I do enjoy them. They allow me to view things from perspectives that are...a little more understandable to most, I think. They are a way to understand the world.
[Amaya will...dogear the page she's on because she is still a bit of a heathen, but--]
You are not interrupting anything at all, Thancred. May I assist you in finding something...?
[Strange way to put it when the rest seems perfectly reasonable. But she moves on, and he obliges with the question.]
Ah, I wouldn't know where to start, if I was. If you've any idea of how this place is organized, you're a far more intelligent person than I. I can't make heads or tails of it.
[the jock with a phd stuck in super nerd land, he Fears for his life]
I'd been here looking for a colleague, though I think he may have taken his leave. It isn't often I find myself drowned in ink and paper.
...More universally shared experiences, so to speak.
[...She'll answer if he asks, at least, but for now she's inclined to move on.]
You are far from alone, believe me. From what I have gathered, there is no rhyme or reason to it; they seem to disorganize themselves, if others do not disorganize them themselves. Shameful, really.
I do hope you find your ally...but if you do not mind my asking, what about it reminds you of such things?
[Beat. Ah, she should--]
...I was homeschooled, books chosen for me by my father. I, ah. Do not have experience with such things.
[A sheltered sort. He could see it, given her descriptor for herself. It pains him in a way.
Still, his smile comes easily, and his answer gently.]
Would you believe I hadn't had much, either?
...
When I was a boy - nine, maybe ten summers old - I was brought to an island brimming with scholars, their marbled halls known for its enormous libraries and vigorous study programs. The Studium, they'd called it. A bastion of knowledge.
Though I'd wander those streets, I'd never see the schools much for myself. What I was learning was from a different sort of teacher, and the Studium a place who only accepted the brightest of minds. But I remember sitting in the entry levels of the main libraries, among the students who knew naught of who I was. Nothing but leather and paper and ink, stretching into levels I couldn't imagine to explore.
Only when I'd excelled to the highest level in my field was I finally allowed to enter the Studium's written records as an equal. By then, I knew it wasn't meant for me.
[Amaya listens, eyes closing briefly as she tries to imagine it in her mind. Though Quercetem isn't a completely developed land, there are things she can compare it to--Libraries in the Oasis, for one.]
...It is a shame that all of the work you seem to have put in it...maybe it is by my impression, but it seems to have made you resent it, when you finally reached the apex of that power. When you, yourself, finally became enshrined in history...those halls, they lost their luster.
[Amaya is quiet. Not quite sure what to say, but...something in her eyes, it's softer when she looks upon him, putting down the current books she had been organizing to give him her attention. Her tone's still blank, but it's...softer, somehow, or at least as much as she can inflect while sounding still monotone.
(She hates it. There's so many feelings she wishes she could get across to him. Maybe she'd understand--)]
Do you...mind overmuch, if I asked what happened, to make that so? I...have no wish to pry, but I believe I can understand, a little. The disillusionment. If only in a merely clinical sense.
[He's reaching out. The least she can try to do is reach a little, in kind.]
[His eyes soften in return. There doesn't seem to be much reaction to her tone, and for good reason. To connect and communicate, no matter the person or the distance, helped one do what needed to be done in his field.]
...I don't mind, no. [He leans his weight a little more casually against one of the shelves, taking care not to shift the books that rest on them.]
I don't know if I would go so far as to call it disillusionment. Merely... it was never a place for me, or the path my life had led. [Never the bookworm, never the teacher's pet. Just the boy with a silver tongue, a quick hand, a good eye, a solid streak of luck.]
Not that that sort of thought mattered much to a younger me, far less grateful for what things he'd been given. Jealous and angered, wanting to prove myself just as much as I wanted to to rebel. But hindsight shows us much.
I may not call Sharlayan my home, nor do I hold the treasured memories of study in the schools that some of my comrades do. I'll be seen as an Archon, yes, or a member of what groups I now associate with outwardly... nothing more.
But I hold no resentment. It was a chance I was given to be something better than I was. To do some good for people. And I found my luster in other things, leading my life that way.
[Amaya listens, and in truth, hearing about how he was when he was younger...that, she can imagine much more easily. She had been in that position too, for a very long time. Though it didn't quite end the same way for her, she can...sort of understand what he's getting at.
Sort of, at least.]
...Hindsight is quite the thing, isn't it? It's like a book of all of the things you could have done. It is a chain that can hold you down, or a shackle you can break to set yourself free; I am...glad, that you managed to find other things in life that gave you a sense of purpose. Perhaps even made you happier.
...At least, that is how I understand what you are saying, I think. [Amaya pauses, briefly, her look still blank but staring at Thancred a little intensely, as he may come to expect now.] It is...an example I wish I could emulate, but I...
...Thancred. If I tell you something, can you...promise not to look at me with any sort of pity?
[She'll see if he can hold to it when she tells him this much, but...she sighs, and it seems to be more to let her nerves out (ones she's tried to hide so damn much since arriving; they wouldn't serve her here, they wouldn't, they'd--) than anything else as she turns to face him.]
I...did not grow up in the most stable of environments; my father was a man of ambition, believing that any means justified the end he sought. A man that the entirety of Quercetem has not forgotten the deeds of, even since his death fifteen years ago. It was through the power he gained by making a pact with a Dragon many years ago, that he attempted to use to try and gain control of the world. If that Dragon had not been stopped, his will would have ensured that everyone would be emotionless husks...just like me.
To put it in the plainest of terms, however; my father ran a cult, and my upbringing and who I am today...it is unfortunately a result of that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heartofcorundum) wrote2025-11-06 11:02 pm
WEEK ZERO - WEDNESDAY
He can't seem to pin down Urianger in his normal spot on the second floor. But as he glances through the mismatched shelves, he pauses when he does spot a different familiar face.]
Ah... Amaya.
[It's quiet. He hasn't forgotten their awkward first conversation. It's why he's kept his distance these first few days. But they're not going to get anywhere if he keeps avoiding her. So he tries to start gently.]
One would wonder if you feel home here, tomes on every side. It suits you.
...Am I interrupting anything?
no subject
The library is mostly a place Amaya tries to organize, and thus, Thancred can find her cleaning it a little; she does seem to be reading some sort of non-fiction book, at least from what can be ascertained from the cover, but when she hears his voice she pauses.
The words he said still sting, of course, from the other day. But...she may as well put her money where her mouth is, so to speak, and turn to face him crisply, all with that same blank stare that seems to betray nothing.]
...I seem like the sort who buries herself in books, hm? [...] You are not wrong, actually. Tomes, biographies, even fantastical tales...I do enjoy them. They allow me to view things from perspectives that are...a little more understandable to most, I think. They are a way to understand the world.
[Amaya will...dogear the page she's on because she is still a bit of a heathen, but--]
You are not interrupting anything at all, Thancred. May I assist you in finding something...?
no subject
[Strange way to put it when the rest seems perfectly reasonable. But she moves on, and he obliges with the question.]
Ah, I wouldn't know where to start, if I was. If you've any idea of how this place is organized, you're a far more intelligent person than I. I can't make heads or tails of it.
[the jock with a phd stuck in super nerd land, he Fears for his life]
I'd been here looking for a colleague, though I think he may have taken his leave. It isn't often I find myself drowned in ink and paper.
Reminds me of my school days, mostly.
no subject
[...She'll answer if he asks, at least, but for now she's inclined to move on.]
You are far from alone, believe me. From what I have gathered, there is no rhyme or reason to it; they seem to disorganize themselves, if others do not disorganize them themselves. Shameful, really.
I do hope you find your ally...but if you do not mind my asking, what about it reminds you of such things?
[Beat. Ah, she should--]
...I was homeschooled, books chosen for me by my father. I, ah. Do not have experience with such things.
no subject
Still, his smile comes easily, and his answer gently.]
Would you believe I hadn't had much, either?
...
When I was a boy - nine, maybe ten summers old - I was brought to an island brimming with scholars, their marbled halls known for its enormous libraries and vigorous study programs. The Studium, they'd called it. A bastion of knowledge.
Though I'd wander those streets, I'd never see the schools much for myself. What I was learning was from a different sort of teacher, and the Studium a place who only accepted the brightest of minds. But I remember sitting in the entry levels of the main libraries, among the students who knew naught of who I was. Nothing but leather and paper and ink, stretching into levels I couldn't imagine to explore.
Only when I'd excelled to the highest level in my field was I finally allowed to enter the Studium's written records as an equal. By then, I knew it wasn't meant for me.
no subject
...It is a shame that all of the work you seem to have put in it...maybe it is by my impression, but it seems to have made you resent it, when you finally reached the apex of that power. When you, yourself, finally became enshrined in history...those halls, they lost their luster.
[Amaya is quiet. Not quite sure what to say, but...something in her eyes, it's softer when she looks upon him, putting down the current books she had been organizing to give him her attention. Her tone's still blank, but it's...softer, somehow, or at least as much as she can inflect while sounding still monotone.
(She hates it. There's so many feelings she wishes she could get across to him. Maybe she'd understand--)]
Do you...mind overmuch, if I asked what happened, to make that so? I...have no wish to pry, but I believe I can understand, a little. The disillusionment. If only in a merely clinical sense.
[He's reaching out. The least she can try to do is reach a little, in kind.]
no subject
...I don't mind, no. [He leans his weight a little more casually against one of the shelves, taking care not to shift the books that rest on them.]
I don't know if I would go so far as to call it disillusionment. Merely... it was never a place for me, or the path my life had led. [Never the bookworm, never the teacher's pet. Just the boy with a silver tongue, a quick hand, a good eye, a solid streak of luck.]
Not that that sort of thought mattered much to a younger me, far less grateful for what things he'd been given. Jealous and angered, wanting to prove myself just as much as I wanted to to rebel. But hindsight shows us much.
I may not call Sharlayan my home, nor do I hold the treasured memories of study in the schools that some of my comrades do. I'll be seen as an Archon, yes, or a member of what groups I now associate with outwardly... nothing more.
But I hold no resentment. It was a chance I was given to be something better than I was. To do some good for people. And I found my luster in other things, leading my life that way.
no subject
Sort of, at least.]
...Hindsight is quite the thing, isn't it? It's like a book of all of the things you could have done. It is a chain that can hold you down, or a shackle you can break to set yourself free; I am...glad, that you managed to find other things in life that gave you a sense of purpose. Perhaps even made you happier.
...At least, that is how I understand what you are saying, I think. [Amaya pauses, briefly, her look still blank but staring at Thancred a little intensely, as he may come to expect now.] It is...an example I wish I could emulate, but I...
...Thancred. If I tell you something, can you...promise not to look at me with any sort of pity?
no subject
Aye. You have my word.
cw: discussion of cults
[She'll see if he can hold to it when she tells him this much, but...she sighs, and it seems to be more to let her nerves out (ones she's tried to hide so damn much since arriving; they wouldn't serve her here, they wouldn't, they'd--) than anything else as she turns to face him.]
I...did not grow up in the most stable of environments; my father was a man of ambition, believing that any means justified the end he sought. A man that the entirety of Quercetem has not forgotten the deeds of, even since his death fifteen years ago. It was through the power he gained by making a pact with a Dragon many years ago, that he attempted to use to try and gain control of the world. If that Dragon had not been stopped, his will would have ensured that everyone would be emotionless husks...just like me.
To put it in the plainest of terms, however; my father ran a cult, and my upbringing and who I am today...it is unfortunately a result of that.
Up until his death, it was all I'd ever known.