I AM MORE THAN ONE THING, AND NOT ALL OF THOSE THINGS ARE GOOD --
The girl, wide-eyed and enthusiastic, asks him how he could possibly be from a forest denser than the one they currently stand in – a forest that is everywhere, she proclaims, before she seems to realize that they are standing in a clearing. He lets out a soft chuckle; it is more of an exhalation than anything, with barely any noise to accompany to push of breath from his dark lips. Septimus wonders if she has spent most of her life in cities; he can’t immediately conjure any other explanation for her confusion – and wonder – at the natural world. That said, he appreciates it. It is rare to encounter someone who sees the world like a new thing, who can look at the simple (though this island is far from it) and find something wonderful in it. In spite of the glaring dog at her side, there is something utterly charming about the girl, and he is still smiling in that gentle, warm way when he speaks.
“It was…something of a magical forest. Like this one, but wilder.” Septimus never knows how to explain the wilds to people who are not from them. Most of what he could say, he suspects, would seem insane to someone who had never experienced the pure wild magic of his homeland. He could understand why. Compared to most places he’d visited since, the wilds were incomprehensible. “The natives say that this island is the creation of a time god. My homeland had no gods – just immense, unnatural force, with no rhyme or reason. Whenever you looked away for so much as a second, the landscape would change.” Change wildly, even. Paths would open, or close, and trees would cease to exist the moment you looked away, if they weren’t replaced by something far more dangerous, hoping to catch you unaware. “Of course, there was no sentience in the design of my homeland, no purpose. It was not made, it simply was. This place…” He trails off thoughtfully, wondering how to put his thoughts into words. “It has a purpose. It’s more…deliberate. Like a labyrinth.” Apparently, that purpose was to hide a relic, or to create some sort of test to find a worthy possessor.
Religion isn’t of much concern to him – though he would like to study the thing…
He isn’t sure if she will understand his explanation of woods-walking when he says it, but, to his relief, she seems to. “A dream?” He inquires, tilting his head almost doggishly; there was something distant in her voice, and, for a moment, she did not seem to her childish or naïve, but rather like someone else entirely. The concept seemed foreign to him. How could one fight a dream? From what he knew of them, they were uncontrollable, and it was rare to recognize a dream to fight it while one was in the throes of it. Perhaps she is speaking of another kind of dream. (A metaphorical one? He has no way to be sure.)
The dog is still eyeing him suspiciously, despite his best efforts, but the girl doesn’t seem particularly suspicious at all. (Then again, given what he has ascertained of her personality, she doesn’t seem particularly suspicious of anyone or anything.) He is informed that they are called Kassandra and Oculus, shortened to Ocky, and, though the borzoi can apparently understand him, Kassandra’s reaction to his words suggested that it was for the best that Septimus could not hear what he was saying, much as he would usually have jumped at the opportunity to hear the words of a bonded familiar.
(Ah, well. With a mistress who seemed so unaccustomed to the outside world, he could hardly blame him for being suspicious.)
“Kassandra, Oculus,” he repeats their names, rolling them around on his tongue. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” Even if the Borzoi disliked him, which was something of a hit to the naturalist’s pride – he’d always been good with animals. (He reminded himself that a familiar was no mere animal; most often, as he had come to know them in his travels, they were entirely sentient in a way that most other creatures were not, and soul-bonded to their companions.) The mare then approaches the pool, and Septimus moves to stop her on instinct; the borzoi gets in her way first, apparently as unsure of the strange water as he is. Kassandra, apparently prompted (perhaps sarcastically) by Oculus, proceeds to ask him about the water.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Septimus admits, turning to stare at the pristine, bizarrely still surface of the pool again with narrowed eyes; there is a faint breeze that wafts and winds through the trees, but it sends no ripples scattering across the stark blue, no light refracting in waves. “I’ve encountered some sulfuric hot springs with bright blue water in the past, but the water here doesn’t give off any heat…and, if it merely had a high concentration of certain dissolved substances, like lime, there would be living creatures in it. Plants, at least.” But likely tadpoles, too, and little water bugs…perhaps some minnows, as the water did seem deep and permanent enough for fish, though it had a relatively small radius…but there was nothing in it. “I wouldn’t get too close to it – it might be highly acidic, or poisonous.” He isn’t even sure if it’s water, when he really thinks about it, though he’d be shocked to find such a high concentration of some other liquid substance pooling on the forest floor. (But nothing here should be shocking, should it? And he’d seen far stranger things at home.)
At any rate – in danger, the deadliest things were often the most beautiful. Cool and tantalizing as the pool appeared, and the fruit around it, it felt to him like a warning sign.
@Kassandra || <3
"Speech!"
The girl, wide-eyed and enthusiastic, asks him how he could possibly be from a forest denser than the one they currently stand in – a forest that is everywhere, she proclaims, before she seems to realize that they are standing in a clearing. He lets out a soft chuckle; it is more of an exhalation than anything, with barely any noise to accompany to push of breath from his dark lips. Septimus wonders if she has spent most of her life in cities; he can’t immediately conjure any other explanation for her confusion – and wonder – at the natural world. That said, he appreciates it. It is rare to encounter someone who sees the world like a new thing, who can look at the simple (though this island is far from it) and find something wonderful in it. In spite of the glaring dog at her side, there is something utterly charming about the girl, and he is still smiling in that gentle, warm way when he speaks.
“It was…something of a magical forest. Like this one, but wilder.” Septimus never knows how to explain the wilds to people who are not from them. Most of what he could say, he suspects, would seem insane to someone who had never experienced the pure wild magic of his homeland. He could understand why. Compared to most places he’d visited since, the wilds were incomprehensible. “The natives say that this island is the creation of a time god. My homeland had no gods – just immense, unnatural force, with no rhyme or reason. Whenever you looked away for so much as a second, the landscape would change.” Change wildly, even. Paths would open, or close, and trees would cease to exist the moment you looked away, if they weren’t replaced by something far more dangerous, hoping to catch you unaware. “Of course, there was no sentience in the design of my homeland, no purpose. It was not made, it simply was. This place…” He trails off thoughtfully, wondering how to put his thoughts into words. “It has a purpose. It’s more…deliberate. Like a labyrinth.” Apparently, that purpose was to hide a relic, or to create some sort of test to find a worthy possessor.
Religion isn’t of much concern to him – though he would like to study the thing…
He isn’t sure if she will understand his explanation of woods-walking when he says it, but, to his relief, she seems to. “A dream?” He inquires, tilting his head almost doggishly; there was something distant in her voice, and, for a moment, she did not seem to her childish or naïve, but rather like someone else entirely. The concept seemed foreign to him. How could one fight a dream? From what he knew of them, they were uncontrollable, and it was rare to recognize a dream to fight it while one was in the throes of it. Perhaps she is speaking of another kind of dream. (A metaphorical one? He has no way to be sure.)
The dog is still eyeing him suspiciously, despite his best efforts, but the girl doesn’t seem particularly suspicious at all. (Then again, given what he has ascertained of her personality, she doesn’t seem particularly suspicious of anyone or anything.) He is informed that they are called Kassandra and Oculus, shortened to Ocky, and, though the borzoi can apparently understand him, Kassandra’s reaction to his words suggested that it was for the best that Septimus could not hear what he was saying, much as he would usually have jumped at the opportunity to hear the words of a bonded familiar.
(Ah, well. With a mistress who seemed so unaccustomed to the outside world, he could hardly blame him for being suspicious.)
“Kassandra, Oculus,” he repeats their names, rolling them around on his tongue. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” Even if the Borzoi disliked him, which was something of a hit to the naturalist’s pride – he’d always been good with animals. (He reminded himself that a familiar was no mere animal; most often, as he had come to know them in his travels, they were entirely sentient in a way that most other creatures were not, and soul-bonded to their companions.) The mare then approaches the pool, and Septimus moves to stop her on instinct; the borzoi gets in her way first, apparently as unsure of the strange water as he is. Kassandra, apparently prompted (perhaps sarcastically) by Oculus, proceeds to ask him about the water.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Septimus admits, turning to stare at the pristine, bizarrely still surface of the pool again with narrowed eyes; there is a faint breeze that wafts and winds through the trees, but it sends no ripples scattering across the stark blue, no light refracting in waves. “I’ve encountered some sulfuric hot springs with bright blue water in the past, but the water here doesn’t give off any heat…and, if it merely had a high concentration of certain dissolved substances, like lime, there would be living creatures in it. Plants, at least.” But likely tadpoles, too, and little water bugs…perhaps some minnows, as the water did seem deep and permanent enough for fish, though it had a relatively small radius…but there was nothing in it. “I wouldn’t get too close to it – it might be highly acidic, or poisonous.” He isn’t even sure if it’s water, when he really thinks about it, though he’d be shocked to find such a high concentration of some other liquid substance pooling on the forest floor. (But nothing here should be shocking, should it? And he’d seen far stranger things at home.)
At any rate – in danger, the deadliest things were often the most beautiful. Cool and tantalizing as the pool appeared, and the fruit around it, it felt to him like a warning sign.
@Kassandra || <3
"Speech!"
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
