Run By: Ryudori (4xp)

Players: Forbidden Blossom

Synopsis: An old librarian and a snippet of a memory wait for the Blossom in a decrepit library.

(Judge) Forbidden Blossom rolls Manipulation + Performance + 6: [ -1- 2 3 3 5 6 6 7 7 7 8 8 ]

        Resulting in 5 successes.

Another day, another play, another upper-crust audience seeded with doubt and distrust for the gods and a bit more willing to listen to the black words of the Yozi. Familiar faces dot this crowd as those who had come to see the play the first time have come back over and over, the bleak truths reinforcing themselves in their skulls one by one even as they bring in new individuals to listen and learn of the glories of the King and his struggles.

 The curtain falls as the actors take their bows, and the director gives an uproarious clapping. "Magnificent!" He cheers, "Better than the last! You are truly a gift from above," he adds to Blossom, "To find someone so perfect for the King's role is...providence, certainly." He wipes a tear from his eye. "You have done so much for us...I think it only right that I give you your payment now, and...let you be on your way..." The director sighs.

Forbidden Blossom lets the slight green glow fade away - disguises being only second nature for her - as she steps away from the stage proper. The green cloak swirls about her as she laughs. "Above. Oh. Nice." She smiles, and then nods, "The art is its own reward, but I would very much like to see the original." She tilts her head. "Oh, you know your actors are far finer than I came upon them? Remember? They couldn't even remember their lines, but now..."

"Yes, I remember. You've done -wonders- for my little troupe and my reputation. It will be such a sad shame to see you go, but nonetheless, you have MORE than deserved it." The director smiles his pudgy smile. "The man who owns the copy goes by the name of Porter...a rather eccentric fellow in his little library. He's into some most unusual things, and I expect you'll find his library...er..."

 The director shuffles a bit. "...most interesting to be sure. I will certainly say, however, that I have no intentions of going back, hah hah hah!" The laugh is a nervous one, as though he's half expecting her to get him to go anyway. "But I'll send young Franz to take you," he adds, waving his hand at one of the stagehands, who jumps front and center. "The library is about a day's walk, but on horseback, you should have no problem arriving. I'll even give you two of my horses to make your journey easier!" The director bows to her. "Have a wonderful trip, my lady. We look forward to seeing you again."

Forbidden Blossom reaches out to touch his cheek with her fingertips. "Ah, it'd best be as promised. I'd hate to be dissapointed after you've built it up so much." To see him so grateful, so cheery, it would be so tempted to dash all his dreams to ashes... but no, the Reclamation should be respected, even in forms such as this. She sighs as if looking a little saddened, and she bites her lip. "I do wish you luck... of course, keep with your prayers and that should be no trouble." She slides her hands behind herself, beaming. "Don't forget that it isn't written in stone. To every audience there is a different voice that is required, after all."

"It will be!" The director assures her, "A magnificent read! Franz!" He barks at the boy, "Take our honored and esteemed guest to the library posthaste and don't you dare ger her lost!"

 Franz claps to attention and bows to Blossom, gesturing for her to follow him to the horses.

Forbidden Blossom looks over her shoulder, "Ah, I'm tired of hearing about it.", she says in a dry tone, and then goes to follow Franz. "I actually want to see it. Let's go, let's go.", she says with an almost childish impatience.

Franz swings onto a horse, waiting for Blossom to get onto hers.

 The ride is swift, but a bit bumpy; the roads aren't particularly well-kept, especially that far outside of town. However, the pair finally arrives at the library within a few hours.

 The library is an imposing sight to be sure. It's tall - several floors, taller than any of the other run-down buildings nearby - and dark, as though the quickly-setting sun is simply not to be bothered lighting it and it had its own way to see thank-you-very-much. On the doors are an arcane-looking set of knockers, one appearing to be some sort of tentacled beast, the other some sort of inverted bat.

Forbidden Blossom rides after, and then slows as she looks up to the library. "Oh, so this is it." She slides from her horse, twirling once with the motion, and then stamps a foot slightly before making her way towards the door. She pauses and looks over her shoulder. "Oh, Franz. You needn't stay..." She pauses. "... but leave the horse, if you would be so kind."

Franz bows and rides away, leaving her horse behind.

 The library looms before her. As the light dies, strange noises echo from the depths of this odd place, like things trudging through a swamp unnameable and unknowable. With spluching, spleching, and splucking behind the door, it's quite apparent why the director didn't want to come with her, and why Franz rode off the second he'd been given permission.

Forbidden Blossom tilts her head, taking a tree near the tower to tie her horse at, and then walks to the door. "My. Such... foreshadowing." She reaches for the tentacled knocker, aiming to wrap it as loudly as she can manage. After all, she has to drown out the sounds behind the door well enough. "Ah, hello?", she says lightly, though, almost in counterpart to her heavy knocking.

The knocker makes a noise similar to the spluching, the door swinging open after the heavy knock. Within, candles burst into being, each one burning one of five colors (red, green, blue, yellow, or purple) and casting odd, multitudinous glows across the books. A heavily carpeted floor meets her gaze, strange emblems scrawled across it, alien and unnatural.

 A man - sort of - stands at the edge of the library, with wide eyes, a huge hooked nose, long fingers, and long feet. He's bent over like a hunchback, with a hand wrapped about a cane, and his huge eyes circle around to meet Blossom's own. "Hello there," he wheezes, walking his way across the carpet. "Welcome to my library."

A curtesy before she enters, Blossom look about at the emblems, and then to the man. "Thank you." She fixes her gaze on the man, and smiles. "I have heard so much... well, about your library. Not so much about you." She pauses. "A man said I could find the original of a certain play... here?"

"Many plays here," the old man replies, pointing his cane at her, "Which one are you looking for and how prepared are you to accept the consequences?"

"The King in Green.", replies Blossom. "And... consquences? How dull.", she comments. "What sort of consquences?", she adds with a wave of her hand, as if the idea were barely meriting her attention.

"Exquisite taste," the old man observes, gesturing for her to follow him. "One of my favorites. A ripping good tale of triumph, honor, loss, and sacrifice." He thumps his cane on the ground and moves to head up the stairs. "Consequences of the dire sort of course," he laughs, a high sort of shriek to his laughter, "In all seriousness, it depends on the book you read. Some have consequences that tug at the heartstrings...some have consequences that tug your heart out." Another raucous laugh.

"Oh? Have you read all them, then?", Blossom says curiously as she moves to follow up the stairs, pulling up her skirt slightly to clear them. She turns a little as she quickly steps, almost coming up beside the old man.

"Most of them. I'm working through a rather pleasant little read by a Southerner." The old man continues up the stairs with her at his side, pointing a cane at the door and prodding at it irritably. The door rocks back and forth, thumping with something vaguely concealed behind it. "A rather fascinating book about the dead."

Forbidden Blossom says, "Are the dead so fascinating? It seems like they do make interesting things, but they themselves..." She comes up near the top, stopping as he works on the door. "You seem well enough for one who has read most of them, though.", she says with a light smile, looking at him with her black eyes. "

"I'm used to them," The librarian replies, "It's quite a different story for someone who's never read one of these books before. The first time I read one, I lost a week of my life drooling. It got better."

Forbidden Blossom says, "And you are... what? Just human?", she comments as she moves to follow after. "Where did you get these books?", she asks, poking and prodding verbally. She is hoping for the interesting, after all.

The old man smiles, but volunteers nothing. At the top of the stairs, he pushes a door open with his cane. "The King in Green is on the pedestal in the middle. Do be careful with it."

Forbidden Blossom walks to the pedestal, and then looks back to the old man. "Don't worry, I haven't come to burn it.", she teases, and then puts a hand to the cover, feeling it for a moment before she ever opens it. Important to establish any terrible curses up front, after all.

The door quietly closes behind her.   

Forbidden Blossom flips open the book with a light touch, folding the cover open as she reaches for the next couple of pages. It's ironic - after all, she just got Ligier humiliated. But she still recognizes the power of his story, and handles the book with a patient reverence.

The book rumbles as she starts opening the pages reverently, green light pouring forth from the covers. In moments, Blossom is no longer standing in a library, but on a battlefield, a great and terrible battlefield.

 -The- battlefield.

 Nearby, Ligier, in all his most beautiful glory before his fall, wielding his great sword of the Primordials, is locked in battle with the princes of the Sun, striking and cleaving through them in ranks as their dragonblood allies fall away. Above, the Ebon Dragon coils in all his magnificence, releasing roar after roar of pure primordial power even as his souls sweep forth to meet the incoming Dragonblooded army. Lunars clash with She Who Lives In Her Name's glorious power, and behind them all, great Malfeas, in all his true, unbridled Primordial strength, swings his great and powerful weaponry in single combat with one of the all-consuming radiant solars.

 "What are you doing?!" Ligier shouts at Blossom, "Get off the battlefield!"

Forbidden Blossom stares at Ligier for a moment in utter disbelief, her dark eyes wide. After a moment of being frozen, she slides back to life, speaking. "Is that caring... no... no... that doesn't make sense at all." Inside, her heart is panicking, but it's like a maelstrom under the still surface of a pond. "In your way, maybe?", she says, stepping back. But 'getting off the battlefield' would be akin to springing away to the stars. It's all around her, and she spins, trying to make sure she's out of the way of any immediate detonations of power. Her hand goes to her bag, though she doesn't raise her weapon... avoids any movement that would hint at opposition.

Ligier shrieks a roar of pure, unbridled hatred, sweeping a burst of light into the Solars fighting him; they fall away, giving him enough time to bound over to her and stand at her side. "Who are you? You're no combatant - what are you doing here?" Ligier's blade sweeps up to deflect an arrow clearly meant for her. "Whose side are you on, girl?"

Forbidden Blossom slips in, moving to stand by his back, as if ready to defen him. Her hand remains in her bag, though. "One day, I will betray you.", she says with a smile, looking towards the incoming forces of light and color, and then adds, "But this day, I fight with you.", she says with growing confidence. "After all, you did just save my life, did you not?", she says, and her clothing bursts for a moment with unseen essence, fluttering and twisting a bit teasingly as she focuses on her form.

Ligier raises an eyebrow. "I could do no less from these traitors," he replies, "If you're planning on betraying me, do it once we've crushed these tricksters into the dust!" He lunges forward for a brief strike. "Take the flank and protect Malfeas! His survival is the most important!"

Forbidden Blossom flips out her fan, and it glitters in shadowed in tines of shadowed moonsilver... but the reflection of Ligier is not his own, but the Ligier-that-will-be. "Oh, don't worry, it won't be for some time." She rushes forwards towards the Dragon-Bloods, and as spears and swords stab towards her, she weaves between them like a leaf caught the wind, dashed away by air pressure long before it is struck. The fan lances out in an arc, a bright circle that resembles a lunar eclipse... if the moon were to scream.

Ligier pauses at the reflection. He seems...somehow dumbstruck by the image of his glory so twisted and dimmed, looking away as his sword deflects another blow. "Is that what I've become?" He murmurs. "Is that what I will be?" Ligier shakes his head. "I refuse it! I deny it!"

 "I will not be so lost in madness! We will be VICTORIOUS!" At the shout echoing across the battlefield, the souls of the Primordials as one shout in overwhelming joy, the morale boost sweeping across the endless warfield like a great wave of power; even the Primordials themselves join in, roaring joyously at their servants' fury.

"Think not of it!", shouts Blossom across the battlefield as she brings atop a spear-shaft, dancing for a moment on it around other slashes before bringing her skirts around in a slashing motion. Though as soft as silk to the eye, they strike as hard as a headman's axe with each fold of the hem. The twist scatters the soldiers in a cacophony of blood and elemental force as the spear drops from a fallen hand, and Blossom rushes with the speed of something-that-is-not-yet, dashing back towards Ligier, the terrestrials struggling to regroup. "Oh, so many little traitors. It's like the universe thrives on them.", she comments as she swings about to face them.

Ligier presses his back against hers and nods. "It's troublesome," the one-day-future Demon Prince agrees, "Too many of th-"

 "Did you enjoy the book?" The old man inquires. The battlefield is gone, the green light dies as the cover is shut, and Blossom is returned (perhaps forcibly, perhaps not) to the Library. The old man's wide eyes blink at her once, a smile on his gnarled face. "You seemed...very -into- it."

Forbidden Blossom lashes out with a black-glove hand towards the old man, reaching to grasp his face. She isn't going to hurt the man right away, mind, but put herself in a position almost ready to. Her eyes are wide, pupils small. There isn't any hesitation. If he's too strong to face, he might even show it.

The man simply relaxes into her grip, smile broadening. "You seem rather angry." He waves his cane. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Forbidden Blossom breathes after a moment. "I didn't tell you to close the book.", she says simply, her thumb tracing a pattern on his cheek for a moment before letting her hand fall away. "Talk about it?", she echoes puzzedly. "Why?"

"I closed the book because you were starting to fade," the old man replies cheerily. "It was drawing you in, making you a character. I felt you should have the chance to choose whether or not to lose yourself in the glory days of the Primordials, mmm?"

 The librarian nods. "Is there something you saw that rather unnerved you in your little trip back? I myself saw the deaths of the Neverborn before I pulled myself free."

"Oh.", Blossom says, looking surprised. "I don't know, it would be interesting to be Ligier's doomed lover, wouldn't it? It would add something to the tragedy, a love interest.", she recovers with a smile. "I was in the middle of the battle. It was hard not seeing it as... ah... betrayal to be pulled away. It is a theme of sorts."

The man chuckles. "Betrayal is quite a theme," he agrees. "It's the tragedy of this play, that everyone and everything eventually winds up falling to defeat. You know, of course," he adds sternly, "That what you saw was not the real war, but an artist's fevered dreams, yes?"

Forbidden Blossom touches her lip. "Well. Yes. I have enough different memories in my head... I know things." She looks to the book, and adds, "But history... just a story, too. A dream of what was. The yozis see it as defeat, the gods see it as victory, but it was neither. It simply was. But it never will be."

"All the world's a stage," the old man chirps, waving his cane at her. "All the people merely players." He chuckles at her analysis. "And all the myriad stories float about. Would you like to give me yours, my dear?" One of his eyes circles around to lock onto her. "I could add it to my collection most efficiently."

One might call it satori, a flash of enlightenment, as Blossom's eyes widen. "And that's the essential flaw of theirs, isn't it? They remember, and so they consider themselves lesser for it, but if they did not know, then they might be more... content. At peace. Their torture is not only of the body, but in the mind, where they can never escape. Or minds, or souls, or..." She smiles, and curtsies slowly and gracefully. "Thank you. But..." She looks to the man. "... and what would you exchange for... all that is me? And those before me, that stand beside me unseen?"

The old man waves his hand at the book. "Memories for memories, of course."

Forbidden Blossom looks to the book. "To... keep?", she says, puzzled. After all, the idea of quid pro quo doesn't seem... well, it isn't her. "That would be a very interesting offer, if it is what is put before me."

"I wouldn't take your memories. A copy of them into a nice blank book, and a copy of these into another nice blank book. No one needs to lose any of their precious, precious stories, mmm?" The old man laughs and raps his cane on the ground. "After all, identity is so very important in life."

Forbidden Blossom looks thoughtful. "But this book is... as you have said, simply products of an artist's dream. The Yozis are more like... humans than themselves. Why should I accept false coin?", she inquires, meeting the better eye for the old man. "Hmmm?"

"There's a grain of truth in any story," the old man replies happily.

Forbidden Blossom says, "Sadly, one grain rarely makes for a proper trade. Presuming I did not already find it, for I find myself with the simple truth that has already opened before me." She looks thoughtful and smiles lightly. "Especially when you consider I am not simply one soul in one body... little god. And a quite rare one at that."

"I wasn't particularly quiet about it," the old god replies happily, "I shouldn't be surprised that you know. But if you are so uninterested in the trade, so be it." He wheezes out a sad sigh. "How does two books sound?"

"You were perfectly quiet about it. Subtle is the word.", replies Blossom, and ponders. "Ah, two? But which...?" She steps towards one of the shelves, looking thoughtful. "So many you have."

"Pick any two you like, and I'll copy them for you with pleasure."

Forbidden Blossom hmmms, and adds, "Celestials would be the obvious answer, ones of interest, but... I imagine you have not gotten the chance to eye many proper demons. Only dreams of them. Hmmmm. Oh, but the First Age was so dull, too." She meanders indecisively. "So many secrets, yet most of them only important to their owners, I am sure."

"Then perhaps you could tell me what you're looking for?" The god inquires.

Forbidden Blossom blinks, and then then says, "Oh! I need the story of the one known as Laughing Cricket in this age, he was... he was..." She trails off for a moment. "... I mean, the story from the First Age will do, should you have it."

The old librarian waves his hand, a blank book sliding into his hand. It shines with an odd light, an imprint gleaming onto the cover of a strange symbol, and wind sweeps over the pages, sending them flowing. As each page turns, more rapid than the last, words flow onto them like a river into its tributaries. The old man holds out the book with a smile. "Here you are."

Forbidden Blossom looks delighted, and says, "Ah... this is /his/ story... or hers, yes? Not a fascimile?", a little more careful as she studies it, though doesn't open it.

"It is -the- story," the librarian sniffs, "I do not carry fakes."

Forbidden Blossom stares for a moment at the book. That, now that she has thought of it, is enough. She may think herself stronger than the mortal in love long ago, but the Yozis could not extinguish the elation welling up in her just to think of seeing him again. But after a moment, she looks up to him. "The first thing you showed me... was a fake, in a way.", she replies. "Beautiful, terrible, and wonderful, but not true." She looks around with a smile. "Walker in Darkness, then? Or maybe Esprevere? No, too temporary... ah... hm. Somebody of note amongst the Maidens' Chosen."

"I must regretfully inform you that I have nothing on them, by their decree," the god sighs.

Forbidden Blossom ohs, looking dissapointed. "How bothersome. Hm." She knits her brow as she searches, and then relaxes her features. "Ah, well, then I will offer this." She turns to him. "I will give you with the story of my name, and another time, when I have need, I will trade you one of the others." She smiles. "And, I suppose it might go without saying, but my story is for you only. It is not to be touched by others, nor told to them by word, innuendo, or charm." Tucking the book under her arm, she offers her other hand. "Does that sound agreeable?"

"Agreed," the god offers, holding out his hand and clutching hers.

The yawning hole of her caste mark peels open, a circle darker than black. "Then by the word of the world's architects, let this agreement be bound into the fabric of Creation as a new law, and all who would break it will know the wrath of the Primordials." She smiles lightly, putting her memories as Blossom, once Aisha, to the fore. She carefully sets the memories of Heart-Borne Promise and the shadha aside, letting him take her life's history.

The god nods and waves his hand, drawing another book; with the same flowing of ink, the pages fill one by one with words of her life's story. Finally, he closes the book and slips it onto the shelf. "A pleasure doing business with you," the old god chuckles.

The curse of the past is strong, and though Blossom has seen it, she too is prey to it as she looks at the book. Her hands shake a little, and then she closes her eyes. "Yes.", she says simply, and looks over. "Enjoy it.", she says with a light smile. "But I should take my leave, I think."

"I agree. Do have a safe journey."

Forbidden Blossom walks to the stairs. "Mmm. That wouldn't make for a very good story, would it?", and she laughs a bit before making her way down the spiral.

"No," the librarian laughs as the doors close behind her, turning to sit in a heavy chair and begin his readings, "Indeed it would not...indeed it would not..."