(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

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?

[logosmaxima]

Hmm. That is a lack we must rectify for you, at least. Some of what you are experiencing will be mitigated with proper training.

[It's past time he broached the subject he's been ruminating over since the revelations in the garden.]

I am a teacher first, to the willing! Even if they must announce their willingness like fools. [He tips the journal back to pen a response, saying as he does,] We'll test her resolve.

[Finishing, he tips the journal back so they can both see the responses -- the one that doesn't stay, and the one that does.]

A worthy student, perhaps?

[curzed]

[That brings hesitation. His librarius have never been able to do anything about it either, not when they suffered from the same afflictions. Going to anyone else about the problem simply wasn't going to happen.]

... 'Will', or 'may'?

[There's no mistaking that wariness. Curze has learned through bitter trial and error that hope is never something to be trusted. It always carried a price of failure and false promises.

Easier, is the subject of Hisako.]

That is, I believe, the bird abhuman. She already has displayed some psyker skills, so you won't be starting with a blank slate.

[logosmaxima]

Will. [There is no wavering, no doubt in the word.] Your condition is not uncommon among the inexperienced who touch the Great Ocean without adequate preparation. If the foundational techniques do not, by themselves, give you relief -- and they may not, for your gift is powerful and the pathways of its use burned into you -- there are other avenues we can try.

At the very least, so long as I am near you, I will be able to stop the seizures before they start. I am sorry that I did not anticipate the last one.

[He then digests what Konrad's said, looking down at the journal once more. He tosses off a copy of the woman's poem -- grunts in mild irritation as it vanishes on him -- then repeats an unfinished version.]

Hisako Godsup, I believe, by her writing. If she is as good a student as she is a poet, it will be a worthwhile endeavor to awaken her to the splendor of the empyrean. [And she'd make a useful ally.

He finishes writing his invitation to her, then returns the journal and marker to their owner.]

[curzed]

[Not uncommon. Such a phrase is infuriating. If what he endures is so easily remedied, why has nothing worked throughout his life? Why had their father done nothing?

But more likely this will be as all else has been, a pointless waste of time. He was to die as he lived, after all.

No. He will not be so stupid as to think a miracle fix exists that he just happened to miss and nobody else ever thought of.]

Or at least an entertaining ally. She has methods of farsight I've not seen my Librarius use, in retrospect what her images showed puts some small credence to the claim time is utterly uncoupled from this part of the Empyrean.

[Is that deliberately setting aside the other topic? Yes it is.]

[logosmaxima]

And we will need allies here.

Oh? And what did her images show?

[He does not miss the deliberate avoidance of the first topic -- but instead of pursue it immediately (shocking!), produces his own journal and pulls a chair over with a kine tether so he can seat himself and write back to Hisako.]

[curzed]

They are for the most part less allies and more in need of protection from themselves.

[Which isn't a first for any of them. Dealing with idiot mortals is why most of them wound up ruling a planet before they were found.

He's expecting the topic to shift back to things he doesn't want to deal with but for now it remains on Hisako.]

Her planet, wherever that is. Her phenotype is stable, based on the number of others I saw with the same appearance. [Interesting abhumans, but likely also to pass muster. They're civilized, they're a stable mutation, they're USEFUL.. why would they need to be eradicated?] I believe she was looking for kith and kin. But while she's used to a pict-feed effect the images were still.

[logosmaxima]

Some may simply need more cultivation than others.

[Magnus is an optimist! There will always be opportunities to uplift even the meanest of humanity into something better and brighter.

Though where the xenos and other sorts that also raddle the library are concerned ... Well, he's more forgiving than most of his brothers if they have interesting knowledge to share with him.

Hisako and her Stormwing kind sound like they do not even need that forgiveness -- this is a place where Konrad's harsher judgment of these things is a useful guide.]

I see. [Quite clear in its implication, but Magnus is enough of a scholar to ask,] Did you ask her to scry anything from a known world? To see if the effect replicated?

[curzed]

[This is waved off with his notebook. Curze has no interest cultivating anyone. That he's somehow managed to acquire one (1) friend is still a genuine system shock if he spent too much time thinking about it.]

I didn't have to. Others were indulging their curiosity. Always a still image. I observed for a while.

[logosmaxima]

[Naturally. Magnus lets that topic go with grace as well -- it is not Konrad's role, even if Magnus is deeply enthusiastic about the opportunities before them.]

Just so! Then if the Library itself has no reason to meddle in what is seen outside it, we may assume time runs so quickly here as to put the material world in stasis.

[Restating the point, Magnus ... ]

That will be a great boon to our plans to avoid Roboute's future.

[Because they ARE doing that. It is GOING to happen.]

[curzed]

[What is WITH people and thinking that's possible?

It drains away anything like lingering humor as effectively as pulling the stopper from a bathtub, and for a long minute or so, he says nothing, frowning at the now suspiciously glitter-dusted journal.]

It's not possible to change the past. You already know that. We don't have a future, it's written, it's already been lived.

[logosmaxima]

We are not Roboute's past. You may not be mine, and neither of us may be Sanguinius'. The threads of the future are many, and each choice we take to lead us there may branch off another world like a blossom -- if one believes the theories of the Greater Te'marc.

[Magnus' conviction in this is absolute.]

If any future that was seen was already written, my Corvidae would be no use to me but a comfort for the inevitable.

They are far more than that. Many of my sons owe their lives to futures foreseen and prevented.

FORMAT CHANGE

[curzed]

This too is dismissed as not worth listening to. He can match conviction for conviction with singularly stubborn persistence, but there's a point where he's just verbally bashing his head against a wall.

"And yet what I have seen aligns with his past. Perhaps then the point of failure in your assumption is with your Corvidae." There's really no mistaking that discussing it leaves him distinctly unhappy, for all that it's masked well. "If what they see can be changed then their grasp on time is weak, and they can't perceive the one inviolate path for what it is."

That's an outright insult to their abilities. "Perhaps it is kinder that they cannot."

much nicer on phones

[logosmaxima]

Ordinarily, turning the blame back on his peerless sons would be the quickest way to draw Magnus' ire. But Konrad -- and Konrad's bitter conviction in the immutability of the future -- are his problem, nay, his responsibility now to address.

(And ... he cannot now rule out the possibility that his own convictions, his own understanding of both Immaterium and material world, are flawed. Incomplete. He had not recognized Konrad was a psyker, when should have.

He refused to look the doom stalking him, stalking all of them, straight in the face for decades because he could not abide being the man who'd struck such a bargain.

Still can't. But with his illusions torn apart, what other choice does he have but to sit with that awful feeling -- far worse than physical pain?

Easier to tell himself this is all about his brother.)

So the cyclops grimaces, and leans back in his chair, and says something truly remarkable: "It's possible you are right."

Let that soak in a moment, Konrad.

"Nevertheless, were that so, I would expect no positive -- or negative -- correlation between their visions, the actions taken to avert them, and the outcomes. But while interventions on the future are not always successful, or sometimes require much more dramatic intervention than expected -- "

He remembers the weight of a mass-conveyer bowing the shoulders of his subtle body, crushing pain into every nerve as it fell -- and halted.

" -- it is more often we are able to change the future in the way we desire. Should it not be random, no better than a roll of the dice?"

and in general, really.

[curzed]

He doesn't want to be right. It's not gratifying, except that Magnus admitting he might be wrong about something is a novelty. But it doesn't shake him out of the darkening mood souring his thoughts bit by bit.

There's a lot he could say. Arguments he could make. Evidence, however anecdotal, of his own experiences, his efforts to avoid the worst and failing every time. Never once being wrong. .. Well, once, but he won't really understand that incident until retrospective in another eighty years, waiting for his own death to come.

Curze's last hope that things might go differently than he expects waits at Cheraut, and on word if Balthius is alive or dead. If Nostramo can be saved, or needs to be erased.

For a handful of moments, a breath or two at most, there's nothing but bleak, anguished despair etched into every line of his long, lean frame. He knows impossibility. Futility. "...As you say."

The words are anything but actual agreement.

[logosmaxima]

Despair has its own texture and color in an aura. Such is the life of a primarch that Magnus has become deeply familiar with it, in its most subtle and flagrant manifestations -- from a single mortal suffering in silent depression to whole planetary populaces fearing their inevitable annihilation.

But witnessing it in such intensity from one of his own brothers is a new experience. Another of the new experiences the Library is bringing him, unwilling -- and not one he savors.

He is silent in the wake of Konrad's acknowledgment-that-is-not-agreement. Silent, and staring at his brother, his own face composed in a moue of deep concern.

Finally, he asks -- almost tentative, another new experience for him --

"Do your visions show you anything within this Library?"