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Anaxas' main trade port; it is also the nation's criminal headquarters, home to the Bad Brothers and Silas Hawke, King of the Underworld. The small town of Plugit is nearby.

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Aremu Ediwo
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: A pirate full of corpses
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Fri Nov 01, 2019 9:26 pm

Late Morning, 67 Roalis, 2719
Cliffs, to the South of the Rose
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South of the Rose, the long flat mouth of Mahogany began to rise. Seagulls wheeled over high rocky cliffs, jutting out over the sandy beaches below, capped with pale yellow grass that swayed in the sea. Here and there the cliffs curved out and the beaches were swallowed by the sea below, and the waves of the Tincta Basta pummeled the rock, sending sprays of salt water up into the air.

It was the second in a pair of hot, sunny days, the sun beating down on the waves and the cliffs and all the rest. Distant clouds chased one another over the water, wisps that grew and puffed away into nothingness against the horizon, blown by some breeze that lingered distant and unknown.

Aremu had walked from the city, down along the sandy lengths of the beach; he carried his shoes in his hands, one finger in the back of each, and dug his bare toes into the sand. There, once, he had stepped from rock to rock and made his way around the edges of the cliff to the next stretch, and when he stopped it was with the curve of the rock hiding the Rose, so that it was no more than the distant echo of a memory.

Aremu climbed up the beach to the base of the cliffs, to a spot where the waves did not go; he tucked his shoes up in a ledge in the rock. One button at a time, he undid his white linen shirt, and he folded it against his bare chest and tucked it between the shoes and the rocks.

Aremu stepped back and looked up at the high rocky cliff. He traced his eyes up along one path, then the next, feeling the warmth of the sun soak into his skin, the faint splash of the spray as it broke itself against the rocks. He went forward to the cliff again, and he began to climb.

The fingertips of his left hand found the crevices of the rock - dug themselves in, and he held tight and pulled, the muscles of his arms straining against the climb. His toes, too, gripped the rock, and his legs bent and pushed and shoved, and drove him ever upwards. His right arm was not useless; he dug his elbow in here and there, wedged his forearm into the sun-warmed nooks to steady himself.

Aremu found the path he had chosen for himself, and it was as sweet as he could have hoped. The wind whistled over him, drying the faint salty sweat against his skin, and he climbed higher and higher, scattering pebbles that ripped free and sailed to the ground below.

Sometimes he paused, halfway up on a ledge that ran most of the length of the cliff; today was no different, and he turned to look out at the ocean, to look down without hesitation at how far he had come from. It did not scare him, to sit on the edge - to lean forward into the sun, and let the wind whip at him. He paused and held there, because the joy of climbing was no better for it being over quickly; he held there because he knew he would be sorry, when it ended.

And then in time he rose and went back to the wall, and again he began to climb; he found a new path, carved into the rocks, and made it his own with his fingers and toes and elbows, wedging his torso and his thighs against the cliff, pitting his strength against the rocks. They yielded to him, or perhaps it was only his own self that he was made master of.

And at the top, he pulled himself over and lay back in the grass, legs dangling over the edge, and he closed his eyes and let the sun drench him, chest rising and falling slowly, both arms spread wide amidst the long yellow blades, and he grinned.

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Fri Nov 01, 2019 11:57 pm

cliffs, south of the rose
roalis 67, 2719 late morning
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It was a nice day to do nothing, but an even nicer one to go for a walk. Although he had never been particularly bothered by the heat, it was different here, more humid; it sunk into his skin but wasn't uncomfortable, saved by the cool breezes that drifted in off of the sea. He enjoyed it, he'd decided, he liked the rosy tint it brought to his cheeks and the energy that the warmth brought him, as if compelling him to get out and enjoy the sun before it left.

Lars Savatier had become a man of expensive desires but often found simple delights nonetheless. The sun was enough, the clouds were enough, the breeze that swayed white waves over his shoulders was enough. It wasn't the end goal, it wasn't the next thing that he could profit off of, but it was a clocking nice day and he it was easy to resign himself to the outdoors, leaving the little apartment early in the morning and taking off for a walk around the harbor.

Unsurprising as it was to find the streets already filled with people, likely wanting to get the most out of the day just like himself, he wasn't in the mood to slip through crowded paths and get bumped into by every passing human, wick, galdor - so it was with an open mind that the passive took off in a new direction, arms swinging gently at his sides as he walked.

As slow a transition as it was, he truly felt as if he was starting to fit in, in the city. He looked about as much like any kind of pirate as the Hessean really could, off-white shirt half-buttoned and probably a size too big, loose on his skinny frame but tucked partially (half-heartedly) into dark trousers. With his hair pushed back and away from his face, it left his ears visible, and put the recently-acquired earrings on display as they reflected the morning sun back at the sky. If only he had a mirror, he could've gawked at the massive shift his appearance had taken on in only a month - but he supposed he really didn't need one when he had his shadow at his side to constantly remind him.

"Where is it we're going?" it questioned, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a worn-out blue uniform as he walked.

"I'm not sure," he shrugged a shoulder, "outside of the city."

"I've heard there's only cliffs to the south."

"To the cliffs, then."

"You do enjoy doing the opposite of what I want, don't you?"

The corner of his mouth curved upward into a smirk, and he threw a glance to the blonde, neglecting to verbalize his answer. Both of them knew he didn't need to.

It took a bit longer for him to get out of the city proper, still somewhat unfamiliar with the neighborhoods he hadn't frequented as often, but soon enough he reached the beach, and took a moment to stare out into land and sea before him. Before he'd made it to the Rose, he wasn't sure if he'd even seen sand, not nearly as much of it at least. It smooshed outward and down beneath his shoes like water, benevolent but almost worrisome nonetheless. He wondered what it'd take to sink beneath this sand, how much pressure one needed to enforce, how far down one could actually go before the ground refused any more of them. It was a useless question to ponder, but he was ever-curious about all the things that the long-term residents of the harbor never gave a second thought.

There was just so much of the world he didn't understand, so many things he'd never seen, and even more that he'd never even heard of. He'd known other servants to become enraptured with their books, clinging to other parts of the world that they couldn't experience for real, but that they could at least learn about, at least imagine. Perhaps if he'd had the skill he would've done the same, but he was certain that their books couldn't capture the full truth of any of those places. No descriptions of Old Rose Harbor and the surrounding areas could've compared to being here now and breathing in the salty air. No, he wanted to see things for real.

Mind still distracted, he was startled when the sand gave way to rock, the passive looking up from his entranced stare at his shoes and letting his eyes take in his surroundings. Here - the cliffs had escaped his notice but they were here, their structures imposing and new and beautiful all at once, but again they shifted from his mind when he noticed something else. Someone else.

"Leave it be," warned the man behind him, though Lars didn't bother turning around to dignify the gentle command, "we don't want to get into any more trouble. Let's just turn around and find a tavern, yeah?" He hoped he wasn't giving the blonde hope by remaining still and not approaching the rock wall yet - he was just contemplating why a familiar face would be out here, too, climbing these cliffs.

Aremu looked at home out here, comfortable in the sun and in his solitude, and Lars thought for a moment not to disturb it, not to inject himself into the man's day. He doubted that the other man disliked him, per say, but he couldn't think of a reason for him to really want him to approach, either. As the man reached the top of the wall again and pulled himself over, Lars made up his mind, and began to find his way around and upward, not daring to try scaling the cliff himself - he might've been a bit dimwitted for trying to speak with Aremu again at all, but he wasn't entirely moony and didn't enjoy the thought of falling onto the rocks.

With soft steps he made his way around, however didn't come close to the other passive, not just yet. Lars kept his distance, sitting down in the grass himself as he looked out to where Aremu lie. He pulled his legs up a bit, arms hanging loosely about his knees.

"...Aremu?" he addressed, sure to keep his voice soft as he could manage in fear of startling the man, "it's beautiful, out here. I - sorry, should I leave?" there went any confidence he'd had about fitting in around here - it was quickly that the former servant could retreat into himself in these situations, still not used to drawing attention to himself rather than pushing it always and forever away. It still felt wrong, even if it was exhilarating at times, to call out to someone and disturb them rather than fade into the background until needed. It was difficult, even for Lars, to keep the concern from his expression at these times.

Lars had been right, gods he always was, wasn't he? He should've turned around and went back into the city, and spent the day in whatever tavern had the cheapest drinks. That could've kept the extra and unwanted warmth from his shoulders, tinted pink beneath his shirt, and it would've been easy. Easy was good.
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Aremu Ediwo
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: A pirate full of corpses
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Sat Nov 02, 2019 3:09 pm

Late Morning, 67 Roalis, 2719
Cliffs, to the South of the Rose
Aremu lay back against the grass, eyes still closed, sun-drenched, feeling the lingering pulse of adrenaline through his veins. The wind whistled overhead, leaning blades of grass down to brush against him, a soft, scratchy tingling.

The last of the sweat dried on his skin, slowly, even the clammy feeling gone. The heavy rise and fall of his chest settled, smooth and even, and it was conscious effort now to breathe in deep the salt-soaked air.

He could nearly have slept there, warmed and soothed, the low hum of his thoughts distant in the back of his mind. He let them wander as they would; he did not seek to control them. They drifted like the clouds above, soft and white and empty of heaviness, and if occasionally they were edged with the deep gray darkness of rain, it did not trouble him.

For once, lying on his back above the sea and rocks, Aremu did not feel homesick. It was a feeling he chased, these days, elusive and soft and strange. There was no place for him that was home; he had rented one for a long time, made another man’s dream his place of dwelling and been happy there. He had given much for that home, and he had paid the price - if not gladly, then knowingly, willingly, and without regrets.

And now? He had lost his place and he had learned that home was not so simple, and not so complex either. And he had found a new way, and he had thought he could come to that too. And now? Aremu let himself rest, in the prickling grass, and was glad and sorry to be leaving the Rose soon, all at once, to steal a few moments of borrowed time soaring above the ground, to go back to the climbing the trees of the islands, instead of the cliffs of the Rose.

At the soft sound of his name, Aremu’s eyes opened; he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked to the side, frowning slightly.

“Lars,” he said, quietly, taking in the other man’s half-tucked open shirt, his arms loose around his knees, the earrings glittering softly beneath his pale white hair. It was as white as it had seemed in the darkness of night, here in the bright midday sun.

Aremu pushed himself upright, sitting on the very edge of the cliff, his legs resting against the wind-sharpened edges of the rocks below. The dark brown linen of his long pants was lighter than the color of his skin, held close to him with a worn belt cinched tight. Lars was on his left; he had been aware of it from the first moment he had heard a noise. It was second nature now, to know. His right arm he kept close to his side, wrist bent behind his thigh; his left hand settled down against the grass, fingers stroking through the loose, sandy dirt. His own head was not shaved bare, not today, short, close cropped stubble roughening the skin.

“No,” Aremu said, slowly, when Lars asked if he should go. He glanced at the other passive again, then back out over the sharp fall of rocks, the faint pale crescent of sand far below, and the expanse of blue sea beyond. The sun glittered over the waves, swelling white and breaking against themselves in the distance.

“No,” Aremu said, quietly, although he did not look back at the other man again, not yet. “It is no less beautiful when shared.”

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Sun Nov 03, 2019 11:54 pm

cliffs, south of the rose
roalis 67, 2719 late morning
It was odd to hear his name again through someone else's voice. He heard it plenty in his own; too often, it felt like some old, outdated mantra used only to remind himself that he had a name at all, that he was not, in fact, Cailan, that he was still an imposter hiding beneath yet another imitation of life. To hear it in someone else's voice reminded him that yes, he was still Lars, and it wasn't just a label. It was a name. It was his name. He seemed to settle slightly in his place to the left of Aremu, looking out to the sea and not bothering the other passive with speech for a while.

As chaotic and loud and oftentimes dangerous as the Rose was, he doubted anyone in the world could say it wasn't beautiful. Even the darker parts of the harbor had their charms; good hearts mingled with sharp minds and morally questionable ethics. It was a place to have freedom even in the worst situations - a place to have a choice, even if that choice wasn't a good one.

After a while, he lowered his head to rest upon his knees, face turned in Aremu's direction although his eyes were closed. It was unwise, but he was at peace in the moment, and felt he could safely assume that the other passive wouldn't suddenly pull out a knife or push him from the cliff's edge for no reason. Perhaps if this had been his galdori companion she certainly could've found his presence reason enough, but he didn't think the man quite so hasty.

"I've not been out here," finally he spoke, eyes remaining closed, "I don't think I've ever seen any cliffs before. It's sort of... scary," and he opened his eyes for a moment, lifting his head just a bit to stare out at the cliff's edge.

"You don't seem all that scared, though," he added with a glance to Aremu, the hint of a smile on his face, "I don't think he would be able to do that - climbing up them."

I've told you to stop talking about me; you're going to confuse him doing that.

"I mean - I wouldn't be able to," corrected the Hessean quickly, "sorry. I'm tired."

He hadn't made that mistake in a while. He'd gotten so much better; it almost felt natural to only refer to himself anymore, to use the language his fellow servants had always tried to force upon him, but occasionally he still reverted back to leaving himself out of the conversation. It had been a source of much frustration for many roommates - Jamie had never minded terribly, Bennett barely tolerated it, and Fionn… well he never quite knew what that one had felt.

Lars took a deep breath - breathed in the cool air that drifted in off the waves, and felt refreshed. He didn't think he could ever get enough of the fresh air.

"Have you always been in the Rose?"
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Aremu Ediwo
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: A pirate full of corpses
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Mon Nov 04, 2019 1:29 pm

Late Morning, 67 Roalis, 2719
Cliffs, to the South of the Rose
Lars did not leave, but settled back against the grass. Aremu did not turn to look at him, leaving the other passive his privacy, but he was aware of him from the corner of his eye. Even though he focused his gaze out on the sea, watching the distant path of an airship glittering through the clouds, he saw the moment Lars lowered his head, slowly, to rest against his knees. Aremu turned, slightly, watching the airship descend towards the Rose, and he could see that Lars had closed his eyes, his face utterly still.

Aremu watched the airship until it was out of sight, lost to the sandy city. From the beach below, there had been no sight of the city, swallowed up by the curve of the rocky cliffs, but from here he could see the sprawl of it up to the north, the busy bustling port – no people, not from this far, but the shifting motion of the ships in the waves, the way they rocked out into the harbor beyond.

And then, slowly, Aremu drew his gaze back out to the sea, the great blue expanse, and he did not trace the path of the next airship to come; there was no need to dig into the wound any worse.

It was pleasant when Lars spoke; there had been no discomfort in the silence between them, at least not for Aremu. He had not pushed for conversation, naturally, but he was glad all the same that Lars had come up, glad in a way he could not feel good about. He had done what he had done, Aremu thought; he had been the instrument of a terrible choice. He had not dreamt of it, and he was not sorry for it, because to be sorry was to wish he could have done otherwise, or else to rail against Hulali’s waves, and such a thing had little purpose. Aremu did not think, anymore, that Hulali bothered to guide the path of his destiny, and that made regrets even more useless than they might have been otherwise.

But they were a balm, those words, and not nearly so painful as the other passive’s thanks had been, nearly two weeks ago.

Aremu turned to look at Lars when he spoke, and he blinked, once, when Lars referred to himself in the third person – but said nothing, and nothing showed on his face. For once he was not frowning, and he did not frown then either. The correction called even more attention to it – and the apology. Aremu did not address either.

“It would not be worth doing without the fear,” Aremu said. He looked back down at the cliffs below, at his feet half-resting on less than a ledge, at the sharp fall beneath them that led down to the sandy beach below. When he was no longer afraid, Aremu knew, then he would truly have something to fear.

Aremu breathed in deep the salt air, and lifted his gaze back to the horizon once more – then turned, slowly, to Lars, just a little more. He eased back from the edge of the cliff, just a little ways, and lay back slowly in the grass once more, all of him cradled against the prickling strands. He closed his eyes, and kept his right arm tucked against his body.

Perhaps he should have been more afraid; he thought Lars was a dangerous man, whether he knew it or not. Perhaps this, too, was not worth doing without fear.

“No,” Aremu said, opening his eyes to look up at the sky above when Lars spoke once more. He weighed the words, tasting them as if on his tongue before he spoke, and then he sat again, his left leg lifting, knee bending and foot resting on the ground. He turned more to Lars. “I am from Thul Ka, in Mugroba,” Aremu said, gently. He studied the white haired man for a long moment, wondering yet again.

Then, slowly, Aremu continued. “I have never been to Brunnhold,” he said, very gently. “We flew there, a handful of times,” he draped his arm over his leg, slowly, and looked back away from the other passive. Still, he did not ask. “I did not leave the ship. There, I think, you find the extent of my bravery.”

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Mon Nov 04, 2019 3:35 pm

cliffs, south of the rose
roalis 67, 2719 late morning

It would not be worth doing without the fear.... he didn't think he'd ever heard that sentiment about anything, but something about it rang true. He was far more accustomed to those around him freezing and remaining stagnant in their fear, not using it as something to push them forward. He could admire that; doing something because it was dangerous, and wondered if he'd ever have that same mentality, or if it was even possible for him.

Lars lowered his head again, returning to his comfortable spot resting against his knees, letting himself close his eyes again as he awaited the other passive's response. When it came, his head moved slightly, in the little motion of a nod. He'd never been to Mugroba, of course, and knew even less of the kingdom than he did of his family's own home, but his uncle was - no, had been - half-Mugrobi, and had always spouted his love for the place when Lars was a child. He wondered if it was similar to the Rose at all, or if he truly had no factual ideas of the kingdom - he could only imagine, after all.

Thul Ka was surely a beautiful place, but what made up that beauty? Was it sand, or rock, or wooden harbors, or familiar red stone walls, or something else he'd never seen? He could only wonder, a low, quiet hum rumbling from his chest. Maybe he could see it for himself one day, if he was lucky. Hesse, too, and everywhere else he'd never even considered being able to one day see. Even now, if felt like it would be some forbidden act, to leave Anaxas - it was wrong enough just being in Old Rose Harbor, but another kingdom.... it was foolish to think about. It wouldn't happen, it was ridiculous to delude himself with even more when it was still so unsteadily that he'd found his way to the harbor, still so unsure he was in his position.

It wasn't until quiet mention of his former home that gray eyes slipped open again, though he didn't lift his head, watching the other man with a different point of view - what was he getting at, there? Unlike his name, which had felt like some sort of kind confirmation upon hearing it again, hearing the name of the university again did little to soothe, and Lars didn't move, but swallowed against a dry throat and considered the words carefully.

"That was wise," he said then, and it was the only response he gave to the matter of Brunnhold, the passive's fingers tapping gently against the arms he rested against, "what is it like, there? In Thul Ka," but Lars didn't seem bothered by Aremu bringing up his old home, even as he switched the subject back to Mugroba, more that... he hadn't been expecting the man to bring the place into conversation.
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Aremu Ediwo
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: A pirate full of corpses
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Mon Nov 04, 2019 6:08 pm

Late Morning, 67 Roalis, 2719
Cliffs, to the South of the Rose
Aremu left the matter of Brunnhold alone; he had said what he wished to say on the subject, and if Lars hadn’t seemed uncomfortable, he hadn’t seemed interested either. Aremu wondered, but he did not know, and he would not ask – not directly.

The Mugrobi looked at Lars for a long time when he asked about Thul Ka. What was it like. He glanced past the passive, back towards the Rose. Thul Ka defied comparison, the Mugrobi felt, and yet one could hardly even begin to imagine it, sitting here on the bluffs of Anaxas’s eastern coast – so close to Mugroba, and yet the distance of the Tincta Basta was more than most men would ever cross.

“Lively,” Aremu said, and he smiled. “Thul Ka is the largest city in the world,” he turned his gaze back to the sea, his left still resting on his leg. He felt the wind rushing through him, and he let himself imagine that it had come all the way from Thul Ka, that it had been blown out along the Turga and up through the flats, swirled over the Muluku Islands and whisked there to them. He closed his eyes, and he could almost – almost – smell it, spices and sun-baked sandstone and washing and melons and kofi.

“They all of Hesse combined barely equals Thul Ka,” Aremu said, more than a little smugly. “One could fit the Rose into it five times over, and have room to spare. Mugroba is desert – like the sea before you, but all sand, more than you could ever imagine. It has three rivers, and where they met – at the heart of all life – is Thul Ka.”

Aremu missed it, suddenly, viscerally – not the Turtle, where he had never felt at home, but the bustling busy markets, where no one looked twice at a small, slender man who looked like a galdor but lacked. Thul’Amat, and its bars and eateries, loud laughter tinged with spicy breath and the cool licorice scent of arak. Lilting, pleasant Estuan, the way it should be accented, not harsh and heavy the way these Anaxi liked it. Dark skins, bared beneath the hot sun, soaking up the brilliance of its warmth.

He thought of telling Lars about the Turtle, where passives lived all together in the depths of the city, set apart but with lives, with as much choice as anyone could hope for. He thought of telling Lars of Thul’Amat, where he himself had attended classes – where he had studied alongside galdori, and proved himself again and again. He did not say either, and he was not sure why.

“The sandstone glitters in the desert,” Aremu said, softly, fondly. And then – he grinned, suddenly, his whole face lighting up. “And it reeks,” he laughed. “During the flood season – Hulali’s tits, the whole flooding thing smells like garbage, some days. It’s crowded, it’s hot like these Anaxi cannot even imagine – there are sandstorms that could strip the flesh from you, and they are simply a fact of life for us. It’s a terrible, wonderful reckoning.”

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Lars
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Mon Nov 04, 2019 9:03 pm

cliffs, south of the rose
roalis 67, 2719 late morning

Lars was content to leave his eyes fixed upon Aremu, staring across the distance he'd left between them, glad to note that the other had turned more toward him and didn't seem to particularly mind his presence. If he had been accompanied by Niccolette, or if it had been the galdor alone, he wasn't sure if he would have approached as readily, or that it would've been a good idea to do so. He didn't know if it was his lack of field or his appearance or whatever else that bothered her, or if it wasn't really him that bothered her, but Aremu was easily the kinder of the two.

When he smiled, beginning to speak of his home, Lars found himself mirroring the expression. It was a pleasant thing to see on the other man's face, he decided, far preferable to that frown he'd already seen too often - surely he must've missed this Thul Ka if it was as wonderful as described.

And big - bigger than any other city, and Lars didn't even know how to imagine that. He hadn't seen many cities to use as comparison; he hadn't a clue about the size or population of Vienda and hadn't even set his eyes on the place to guess, and besides the memories he had of what Dorhaven used to be, the Rose and Brunnhold's campus were the only real examples he had.

Even the mention of his family's homeland of Hesse left him wondering how big, exactly, that was. It was clear on his face that the passive was intrigued, quietly delighted with the descriptions of somewhere new, but he was also simply happy to be sitting out in the morning sun and having normal conversation with someone that wasn't himself.

It was only made better when Aremu laughed, Lars almost doing so himself at the interesting explanation of the smells found there, but remaining quiet nonetheless, smiling softly as he watched the other passive. Sandstone, sandstorms, a city full of people and life. He could understand, then, why one would think of Thul Ka so fondly, and wondered why anyone would ever leave such a place willingly.

"And I thought it was beautiful enough here," the Hessean offered, genuinely swayed, "I would love to see that, one day. Perhaps not during the flood season," he joked lightly, finally turning his eyes back out to the sea, though left his head where it rested, and took another deep breath.

Lars was silent for a moment, debating whatever words had come to mind and whether or not he should let them out. They seemed to have won, however, for the white-haired man opened his mouth and spoke of things he knew not to.

"...I lived in Dorhaven, as a child, and I'm sure it would've fit into Thul Ka a hundred times over. It was beautiful in a... peaceful sort of way, and always quiet, until the visitors would come and take over for a few weeks at a time. They wanted to be a part of that quiet, I suppose. My parents moved there for it."

Don't give out anything else; you've said enough about yourself.

"I had always wanted to live somewhere else, though. Somewhere like Thul Ka," and with that he glanced back to Aremu, "what ever brought you here?"
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Aremu Ediwo
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: A pirate full of corpses
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Mon Nov 04, 2019 10:46 pm

Late Morning, 67 Roalis, 2719
Cliffs, to the South of the Rose
So Lars could smile. Aremu had not been entirely sure, and he was well aware of the irony of it. He accepted it, and tried not to feel any sort of closeness with the man sitting just a little apart from him.

Aremu grinned. “You would enjoy it,” he promised, and he meant every word; he could not conceive or someone not enjoying Thul Ka, if they wanted to.

He had not asked, but Lars opened slightly too, offering a little corner of himself in response. Lived in Dorhaven as a child said a good deal. Aremu knew of Dorhaven only from the news; some things reached them even in the island where he had spent the first part of the year. Amidst the struggle of his own misery and more paperwork than he had ever dreamt possible to secure Niccolette’s plantation, still he had kept up the papers Uzoji had once ordered delivered, even though they came days late and in odd incoherent batches. He had read them, as always, when he needed a place outside of his own head.

He wondered about those parents who had wanted a part of that quiet, but he did not ask. He wondered about the years between too, from child to now, but he thought he already knew the answer to that, and he did not ask.

What brought you here, Lars asked. Aremu quieted, and the smile faded from his face - he did not frown, but he grew wistful, and he looked back out at the sea. He did not see the water this time, but the distant glimmer of light against another airship, slowly descending.

He could not see it, not at this distance, but he knew it. Chainmail over the balloon glinted in the morning sun; it was mid-sized, not one of the great passenger vessels, but certainly not a tiny pleasure craft nor the sort of maneuverable ship the Eqe Aqawe had been. Mid-sized, semi-rigid, and built for cargo from the gawky shape of it, a Bastian ship. For a moment Aremu felt as if he could see inside of it, could see the engines working - they were pumping air into the ballonets to descend so fast, and must have been using the propellers besides.

“I wanted to fly,” Aremu said.

It was more complicated than that; it was a thousand times more complicated, and yet it was exactly that simple. He had wanted to fly; he had always wanted to fly. Learning that he was a passive had changed the manner of the dream - had made it even more foolish than it had been, as a young boy in Cinnamon Hill, climbing trees and leaping free for those few moments of weightlessness, crashing to the ground with Uzoji in a tangle of limbs. They had never fought over who would be captain; they had both always known.

And then Uzoji had come home, and had found him and had offered him a chance. He had not demanded; he had had every right to demand, and Aremu would have refused him if he had. Instead, he had offered, extended his hand and grinned.

So, Aremu thought. He had chosen, and he had flown. Now he was tied here, held fast to the Rose by Hawke. It was true, what he had told Lars; once one become a Bad Brother, there was no way to leave, not alive. He could try to disappear back into the depths of the Turtle; he could try to lose himself in the floating village of Manatse; he could vanish try to into the steppes. But he could not live again as a man without being a brother; he could not honor Uzoji’s memory from Thul Ka.

If he could go back? Aremu did not look down at his right arm. He did not think back to the burning ship in the air over the Islands and Niccolette’s screams. He did not think about how easy it had become to send a man back to the cycle. He knew - he knew - that he would make the same choice again, and do it all over, for those few moments of weightlessness.

“What do you think of the Rose?” Aremu turned his gaze back to Lars, and offered him another slight smile.

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Lars
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Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
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Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Tue Nov 05, 2019 12:02 pm

cliffs, south of the rose
roalis 67, 2719 late morning

Oh, Lars was certain that Aremu was right in that. A place as wonderful as he described Thul Ka being, he couldn't imagine disliking it, or even wanting to leave again if he ever made it there. It sounded otherworldly, to the relatively sheltered passive, like something that could only reasonably exist in dreams, but here this man was confirming its existence.

He watched as Aremu's expression shifted, away from the warm smiles of Mugroba and back to whatever had taken him from it, and he wondered for a brief moment if he should have kept his mouth shut. Their conversation had been going well, he thought, and Aremu was being kind, but he would be foolish to assume any measure of closeness because of that. He still couldn't be careful enough, and yet here he was, sharing things about himself and asking questions in return.

Light eyes followed the other passive's gaze, out to the sea and beyond it, where something glimmered and caught the sun. There were still quite strange in his opinion, those airships, and he hadn't been around many of them during his servitude, but he was growing used to their frequent presence going in and out of the harbor. He could recall the sight of Professor Devlin's ship, the one he'd refused passage on despite knowing it the better option, and turned his eyes away from the ship in the distant sky.

He had never considered the idea of flying. The most notable reason being that, of course, he couldn't, and the second being that it dragged a bit of fear into his bones, being that high up in the sky, subject to the will of the wind and the magic controlling it. He didn't enjoy the thought of being up there with galdori, where he had nowhere to run and no way to fight without risking his own safety on the ship.

Still, it felt fitting to know that it had been Aremu's own desire. The man that climbed jagged cliffs for fun, and walked alongside Niccolette's volatile power willingly. He was a man unafraid of life, and unafraid of the consequences that life could bring him, or at least that was how Lars saw it.

"What do I think of... the Rose?" repeated Lars, feeling himself calmed again by the sight of the other man's smile, "it's... unlike anything I've ever known. I like the sea, and the warmth - I can't imagine how warm it must be in Mugroba, but I figure it must be nice, too."

He turned slightly where he sat, more toward Aremu, "it was frightening, at first, and sometimes it still is. It's nice to be here, though. It's nice to feel like a... person."
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