Abraxas Domain

[speak_n_spell]

Scale the steep pitch of the Singularity’s crater, and eventually the stone and scree gives way to low herbaceous scrub. Look up, and trees begin to dot the hillside, growing ever thicker and greener and denser the farther one walks. Mist wreathes their roots, rising from carpets of moss flung over the enormous matchstick tumble of other, fallen, trees. Look down again, and realize there’s a track of sorts underfoot - twin ruts pressed into the ground, giving rise to the rich scent of crushed ferns. The tracks weave through the trees, so large now that their boughs shade out smaller saplings, trunks enormous columns yards and yards apart. Plenty of room for a wagon to pass. The sun glows emerald through broad leaves, thickening the humid air like honey. Follow the tracks.




A colossal tree reached the end of its lifespan and toppled, punching a hole in the canopy as it took neighbors down with it. The open space torn up by its roots has long grown over with grasses and wideleafed ferns. A spring bubbles from a jumble of rocks unearthed by the rootwad, trickling over and through and beneath mossy rocks until it pools in a basin lined with pebbles and reeds. Look a little closer, and signs of human modification to the pool become clear: stones set in place to keep the water from seeping back into the ground straightaway, lillypads and algae scooped away so the water source won’t be choked out. Similar clues pop out from the glade’s too—perfect beauty; intermingled with the shrubs are berry bushes, runners of beans, clusters of corn and wheat, a low-lying patch of strawberries. Tucked in the hollow of the downed tree itself is a mortared stone oven, with an iron pot hung from a tripod nearby. A little fence of woven saplings keeps a handful of goats from churning the pool to mud or stripping the berries and beans, but does nothing to stop as many chickens from scratching the entire area for insects. One of them is perpetually napping on the stone oven, unconcerned about ending up in the pot.




Intricately carved and brightly painted in blues and yellows and greens, the bow-roofed wagon sits around the backside of the giant fallen tree. The biggest mystery of the domain is how the wagon isn’t the first thing anyone notices. Bundles of herbs hang from the eaves above the door, alternating with wind chimes of bleached wood, bone, and glass. The shutters stand open and light shines from inside, visible even during the brightest daytime hours. The door may or may not be open, but a glance inside reveals many cunningly-inset cabinets and drawers, their surfaces serving double-duty as benches, tabletops, counters, and bed platforms. Every surface is carved and painted with motifs of plants, animals, or even people going about their tasks. Any area not so embellished is padded with elaborately embroidered and woven textiles, cushions, or curtains. A fat iron-belly stove squats in one corner, a kettle perpetually nearby.




Behind the stone oven, much of the tree’s heartwood has rotted away. A dark tunnel stretches beyond the light of the fire, twice as tall as a person and three times as wide. Take a light and venture inside, and a secondary workspace is revealed; shelves and worktables carved into the sapwood, lined with books and papers, bound and unbound, stoppered vials of inks and tinctures, scales and weights and other tools meant to render materials to their base components. Smokeless lanterns hang at regular intervals from the ceiling, interspersed here and there with bored chimney holes to vent smoke and fumes. Reed mats line the floor, new overlaying old where the resident rodents and birds have caused damage. A screech owl squints balefully from the farthest recesses of the trunk. It may or may not swoop at visitors.

Comments

[speak_n_spell]

Oh, you can leave notes in a domain? Then these spaces exist even if no one's home? [She still has so much to learn and she could not be happier!

That's a lie, she'd be much happier if she were accessing the Horizon from her home plane, but Sypha's good at focusing on the positive.]

Good good, just checking. I've met some horses who were not horses at all. Unicorns? Apex predators! Not at all what the old stories make them out to be. [Sypha gestures to the watering hole and shoos one of the nannygoats away.] How did you come by her? And how does she feel about bratty goats?

[wiedzminka]

They do. You can visit others' Domains, though some people guard them or redirect visitors somehow, if they really don't want anyone to poke around in there while they're gone. You have a level of control over your space even if you aren't here.

[ Ciri leads Kelpie to the water, and the mare doesn't seem too annoyed by the goats, mostly just ignoring them. In the Horizon, Ciri doesn't even need to bridle her horse to ride her, so Kelpie is wearing only a very basic, light saddle and a halter. She could probably use nothing but her will, but it doesn't feel natural. Either way, Ciri just takes off her halter and lets Keplie loose to drink and graze, knowing she won't wander far.

Sypha's assessment of unicorns gets a look from Ciri and a bit of a nod. ]

I made her. Same as everything.

[speak_n_spell]

[That's something to consider. The idea of 'security' or 'locking a door' doesn't really exist in Sypha's cultural perspective, but neither are Speakers strangers to pinching inappropriately grabby hands. Should she consider locking the glade down when she's gone? Or adhere to the tried and true 'fuck around and find out' mentality?

It's not like anything here can really sustain permanent damage, after all.]

Sure, but is she a reflection of your favorite horse back home? Or sort of a Platonic Ideal of a horse?

[wiedzminka]

Ah. [ Ciri smiles at Kelpie, soft and fond. Another nod. ]

Mm. The best horse I ever had. A true friend in hard times.

She was the first thing I made in this place. I didn't even remember her name when I did it. I just knew-- I was alone, without a past. I needed a companion, and I made her.

[speak_n_spell]

[The goats eye Kelpie's swishing tail greedily from their pen. Sypha can already map their mischief, and sends them a stern glare. Being goats, they lip at the wattle fencing as if to protest their innocence. Why couldn't she have manifested sweet, biddable creatures instead?]

That period of memory loss was--[Existentially horrifying? The most vulnerable she's ever been in her life? The stuff of a eidetic's screaming nightmares?]--unsettling. Does this translate to some sort of new horse-based abilities outside of the Horizon, for you?

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri nods, sympathetic. Yeah, it was pretty existentially horrifying for sure.

The question makes her raise a brow. ]

What? Of course not.

That would be... highly unusual. Though potentially lucrative.

[speak_n_spell]

Huh. There goes that theory. [So Alucard didn't gain any abilities, and neither did Ciri, but passing conversations with other Summoned indicate they have. What's the target condition, here?]

When I couldn't remember anything, I went through a friend's books looking for answers. I was taking notes and I doodled a sigil that encapsulated some of my magic. I think now I can transfer that magic to others, at least in some limited capacity, because of something I did unconsciously while under the Horizon's influence. Which is why I ask!

[wiedzminka]

I presume this is magic that was unknown to you before.

[ Despite her reaction to the first question, Ciri doesn't look surprised now. She nods. ]

I have encountered others who were able to do magic they'd been previously incapable of after their stay here. Something about the Horizon's influence, as you say.

What do you mean you can... transfer magic to others?

[speak_n_spell]

Mm, up until then my magic had always been something I drew from myself. And Speaker magic isn't something just anyone can learn.

This, though, it's...well, come with me, I'll show you. [Sypha gestures to the dark gap of the tree's hollowed trunk, its mouth fringed with soft ferms and shelf fungi. One only needs to press in a few feet before the darkness reveals itself to be a trick of the bright sunlight; the interior's lit with the homely glow of several shuttered lanterns, and smells faintly of mulch, smoke, and pine. Not exactly a foreboding lair.]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri leaves the horse in the company of the goats and follows Sypha curiously, peering into the hollow of the tree before stepping inside. It's cool but not unpleasant, smelling strongly of green things and forest dirt. The kind of place that would be nice to wait out a too-warm day in.

She watches expectantly for whatever Sypha plans to show her, not bothering with any other questions yet. ]

[speak_n_spell]

[Half a dozen sheets of parchment hang from a length of twine strung between shelves. Iterations of a complex sigil decorate each, differing slightly as Sypha tested and tweaked the formula. She plucks down the most recent version and lays it out on one of the workbenches.]

Fire and water were the first magics I ever worked. I can't even say I learned how, reaching out to them was just second nature. [She calls up a palmful of flame and shifts its intensity from a candlewick to a localized bonfire, easy as adjusting a lamp. Her other hand taps the bench beside the parchment.] Touch this, feed into it, and it will set off the same effect until the summoning array burns out. But if I transcribe the right symbol onto a living being, then they can trigger the ability with their own aptitude, even if fire wasn't in their nature before.

[Or that's the theory, anyway. Her sample pool is limited to Alucard and the goats, so far, and giving the goats firepower was a mistake she won't make twice.]

[wiedzminka]

[ Ciri watches, a bit warily at first, but with increasing interest. Her eyes scan the scraps of parchment and writings hanging from the twine, scattered about the workshop, curious as to their contents and Sypha's research here. If nothing else, she is at least convinced Sypha is quite certain what she's talking about.

She steps a little closer, examining the sigil, but does not reach out. ]

Transcribe onto a living being how? With ink?

[ Her use of living being instead of person also raises Ciri's eyebrows a bit. ]

Are you telling me you can draw a sigil on one of your goats outside and make it capable of summoning a torch flame? ...won't it just set the goat on fire?

[speak_n_spell]

[A nod and a tilt of Sypha's head indicate several repurposed jars and bottles cluttering the workbench, with different tints and stains of ink. She probably could have willed the final product into being, but she'd wanted a base to work from in the real world, so she'd futzed around with walnuts and berries and onion skins and other pigments. For all she knows, the medium affects the outcome somehow.]

Yes, not permanently or anything. It wears off after a few uses, although so far as I can tell the glyphs resist washing and wearing more than a normal doodle! So I really think it has to do with the number of 'charges' so to speak!

[Ah. Well. Maybe she was a little obvious. Sypha hooks a loose twist of her hair behind her ear and pretends like she doesn't know how obviously she blushes.] It's everything around the goat that catches fire. Like straw, and feed, that sort of thing! They're smart enough to do things with intent, and I thought, hey, that's the basis of most magic systems, so--[fingers spread, ta-daaa]--firebreathing goat.

[wiedzminka]

Sypha! I was joking.

[ Ciri gasps, not sure if she's appalled or amused. It probably says something that they both thought of this idea separately, even if Ciri claims it was in jest. She was definitely wondering.

Well. That's some answer.

She considers this, thoughtful. ]

So the magic in question is your own, activated through the will of another?