(no subject)

[bashasasdemon]

[This is written in a fairly neat handwriting, in a language that may look roughly similar to Arabic to those familiar with it. The paper on the bulletin board has a small note on top, with a lot of space on the rest of the page for people to fill in as needed.]

Since we're all from different worlds and cultures I think there are a few things we should probably get sorted out as a group. First thing should probably be how to address each other. Go ahead and write your name/title/what you want to be called, your gender identifier if that's important to you, and pronouns to use for you.


Kai, he/him

Comments

[curzed]

I'm beginning to be concerned if I keep writing on this line of thought a rather ominous presence will appear behind me and take my notebook.

[steelfeathered]

As a prudent person I should therefore urge you to stop.





However,

[curzed]

And I still have my notebook!

Thus. Magnus has many laudable qualities, and would surely happily accept being the guiding star for the reckless and foolish. Indeed he likely would encourage them to even greater follies of curiosity.

AMBUSH!!!

[logosmaxima]

[The problem was it had taken Magnus longer than he anticipated to track Konrad down and begin L O O M I N G with all that extra height he has.

Hello, brother.

His baritone voice is at its deepest register when he says,]

You called for me?

[curzed]

[Ignore the little start when Magnus suddenly turns up, or the way he suddenly scribbles faster, with what sounds suspiciously like a giggle.]

[logosmaxima]

[... He's not sure he's ever heard Konrad giggle that way before.

Or rather giggle that way in a wholly harmless context.

Since he has been Summoned to be a bogeyman, he is in his Full Splendor as a Fae Being of the Immaterium -- the flashing eye! the floating hair! -- that is somehow only slightly diminished by his "pyramid - pyraright - pyraleft" t-shirt.

He leans down to pluck up the journal -- or wrestle it out of his brother's hands, as the case may be.]

I will take this.

[Briefly.]

[curzed]

[Ordinarily that sound is reserved for things of much, much bloodier purpose.

Being smaller, far less ominous at the moment and significantly weaker than Magnus means the immediate fight he puts up to try to keep his notebook is ENTIRELY pointless. And he absolutely knows it.

Curze tries anyway, looking FAR too pleased with himself, but it is expectedly pathetically easy to divest him of his current source of troublemaking.]

How can you oppress the truth so!

[logosmaxima]

[Magnus gives a resounding snort at that implication as he wrests the journal free.

(It will never not be a little disturbing that Konrad is so completely helpless against him.)]

I do not oppress the truth, only send a timely reminder to those who use it with reckless disregard!

Forms must be obeyed in the invocation of powerful names!

[He flips open to the page Konrad was writing on and holds out one huge hand insistently.]

Your red pen.

[curzed]

[It won't, theoretically, be forever. The necessity of it however might keep people alive!

And if he's putting on a great show of sulking now that he's been divested of his notebook, it gets even worse when his marker is demanded of him. It's a nice marker! With Magnus here it's also changed sizes a bit, so it fits a little less comfortably in his own hands.

With almost theatrical reluctance it's handed over.]

You should make a list of every alias you have. For completion's sake.

[logosmaxima]

You say that as if I haven't already done it.

[There was a certain section of his great Book where he kept exactly that list of titles, ekenames, and epithets. Nerd was among them. For completion's sake.

He takes the pen -- awkwardly small for his hand, but not as bad as it could be -- and begins to write in bold strokes. The cloud of glitter, resplendent around him, drifts in to add a purposeful bright edging to the words.]

But I shan't share it with all these others. You already saw that I've been mistaken for that beast of the Prim, [which, everything considered, was not entirely wrong,] on the weight of my name.

[His eye narrows as he switches from writing to drawing a sigil, hand steady. The glitter around him ripples and spirals into little vortices as he imbues it with power that tingles on the skin and itches at the teeth.]

[curzed]

Ah, but where everyone can admire them in their fullness!

[Bereft of his current means of mischief, Curze is forced to almost behave himself. Almost. He settles more comfortably on his chair now that it's a bit too big, pulling one knee up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it to watch the glitterstorm and writing.

In HIS journal. That glitter is going to linger.]

Lord Nerd does suit you better than that fairytale. But there's no harm in having a little fun at their expense, it hurts them none.

[And breaks no laws and is funny besides.]

Anyone who worries that creature is creeping about deserves to have their fears ruffled a bit, don't you think?

[logosmaxima]

Surely you know a sorcerer's names are part of his power, brother, [Magnus chides, but there's laughter behind it.

He finishes his spell, but does not set down the journal or marker. Not yet. He has to see how it's received.]

But I do agree! Such an irrational fear requires facing, and a little play may bring that person to their senses in due time.

[Then he does laugh aloud as the reply comes, and -- politely -- turns Konrad's glitter-blessed journal so his brother see what's been written and drawn in response.]

A supplicant to "Lord Nerd"! What do you think?

[curzed]

I would venture to say that none of us have gotten an education on what you lot get up to on a regular basis.

[A psyker he may be but clearly he doesn't think of himself as one if he's immediately putting himself outside that cadre. What did psykers get up to? Throne knew! He didn't!

When his journal is almost but not quite offered back, just so he can see, there's a twitch of lips in an almost smirk. Almost.]

Well, now you've been called upon directly. Will you share your wisdom or smite her for her foolishness?

2/2

[curzed]

We are discovered! Flee!

[steelfeathered]

[Hisako considers for a while and gets a finer, bristlier brush with which to attempt to render clawed tracks and fine marks, as if a sparrow-sized bird somehow dipped in ink had started to run across the page and lifted off, hitting the paper with its wingtips several times.

She's not sure it's coming across. Maybe she should've just done this again. Sigh. That's art for you.]

[logosmaxima]

[Written over the artistic escape attempt:]

All who invoke the Name fall under the gaze of My Eye! Know, o ye curious fools, what ye have awakened and be warned!

[There's a threatening amount of glitter on the page, outlining an elegant symbol scribed in red with an eye in its center.

It might give one the sensation of being watched. Or a mild itch right between the shoulder blades, or some other equally annoying stimulus that goes away after a few minutes.]

[steelfeathered]

[she should leave it at that, as a prudent woman, once she's done trying to preen away a feeling of grit clinging under her feathers. Quietly memorize the symbol and go; she'd been a mage once desperate to learn more than what she had, and even reduced to Stormwing magic her interest isn't all gone.



However. She can't submit to someone taking her place in the highest effort shitpost category without some comment.]

woe

[to escape getting glitter on her brush she uses the art of the grasp directly on the ink, 'fingerpaint' writing (it's smaller and has better line weight etc than actual fingerpainting, but is definitely more blobby than brush writing)]

woe. woe! take pity on me Lord Nerd, and forgive my trespass! For I am indeed a curious fool, seeking in starless night heedless of the branches at face level and the many, many mosquito saints.

[She draws a little stick figure (human) on its knees reaching up towards the symbol.]

[logosmaxima]

["Lord Nerd" indeed.]

A supplicant before Me? A seeker after My own power?

[A very large figure in red (and glitter) appears beside the imploring stick figure, looming.]

Do you truly believe yourself worthy of this knowledge, o curious fool?

[steelfeathered]

[These people aren't going to know what sunbirds are, she thinks. The Immortals sacred to the god of the sun, whose feathers prism and radiate brilliant colors in the air while displaying under its light.

She puts a haiku in tiny fingerpaint style in the space around the stick figure, like now they're doing an interactive comic and it's speaking.]

THE NATURE OF SUNBIRDS
Rise, flare colors, fall
Nothing compares to the sun
However: they fly.

[steelfeathered]

[he's not going to get to see that for long though it has a title and you know what that means. 'Motherfucker!' she shouts, and then just switches to a reads left-to-right language so she can put letters under the figure like a floor.]

the artist is suppressed

[logosmaxima]

[Primarchs read frighteningly fast -- and better, they've (mostly) got perfect memories.

Not so long after the poem disappears, it's rewritten in full.

Vanishes again.

Is rewritten a second time, without the final period.]

The artist is ambitious and gives a worthy offering. I dub thee Nerd-Probationer. Come and learn, as thou wilt.

[steelfeathered]

Praise and thanks, so mote it be, etc

[she doesn't know remotely what he's offering but she does know this about the man:]

You're not going to wash me, are you?

[logosmaxima]

[Now Magnus is back to writing like a normal person -- and from his own journal, to boot.]

The offer is sincere even if the delivery is dramatic. I am told you have some sorcerous talent of your own. Are you interested in furthering it?

[Then:]

Do you need a wash?

[steelfeathered]

[well she's tired of the fingerpainting style anyway, it's got its charm but the vulnerability of it wears off with too much use. Hisako selects a third brush, whose sacrifice to the glitter won't bother her too much, and also because the pause lets her write calmly and without looking hurt or bitter.]

I'll have to disappoint you, I'm afraid. I was born with the human Gift, but I was severed from it when I became an Immortal. Stormwing magic is more limited and aside from a trick or two I've advanced mine as far or farther as anyone I've known.

[carefully underneath the question about washing, so she can resume something of a playful tone:]

I am not sure that is a problem I'm equipped to answer! Ask the one who used to smell so beautiful if there is something noteworthy about how I think about the subject.

[logosmaxima]

You do not disappoint me in the least. I would be very interested in learning of your type of magic, and whether there is anything I might offer to further it.

[He's amenable to follow how they've split their conversation into two threads, and so adds his own reply under hers:]

You mean my brother? I had noticed we did not go unobserved.

Since you describe his unique aroma as beautiful, a further question: Is it natural for your kind to smell as you do?

Although if I do not mistake myself, you were the one asking for a fire-pit, were you not?