[Guess who's trying to break into Solomon's room for no reason in particular? Akira's carefully stationed outside of his window with a series of tools in hand, working it open little by little... but there's magic on this door, isn't there? Good thing I rolled a (16) for once, so whatever trap Solomon's laid will hopefully not blow up in his face once he's popped his window open.
[He can, in fact, detect the hex on the window, and is able to temporarily disable it! Congratulations, Akira, u are a twu wizard.
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.]
[This is a very Solomon-coded room, isn't it? With so many knickknacks about, he'll have to be extra diligent in returning these items to their original positions while he scours the place for clues as to Solomon's plans. Hell, there's no guarantee he'll find anything to begin with, but Akira isn't going to pass up the opportunity while he has it.
Now then... Any dressers and drawers are getting pawed through first. What might Akira find?]
[There's a simple dresser. It doesn't look like he keeps many fancy items for clothing. No jewelry, nothing hidden within the clothes.
The drawers of his desk mostly contain extra pots of ink, clean quills, and looseleaf paper. One particular drawer near the bottom is filled with a stack of many, many notes, carefully strung together by hand, though he would need to remove the notes to determine what they said. A pen of an unnaturally deep blue rests on top of the pile, golden flowers decorated across the casing.]
[You know what? Sure. He'll dig those hand-bound pages out and read through them. It's worth a shot regardless of how long it might take. Solomon won't be coming back any time soon anyway, will he?]
[There are two packets. The first seems to be just a record of the days that pass in the manor, notes of what goes on, notes of Solomon's feelings on the situations at play. Several dates have a considerably larger amount of notes: The week of the ball, the repeated incidents with Mika, a strange interlude alluding to a meeting of the North wizards, the return of Central from their mission, and the most recent week.
The second seems to just be a personal journal, written in the format of letters for every day spent. They are all started with the phrase My dear Ibuki.]
[...That second packet is a lot more personal, isn't it? A lot more private. Akira doubts Solomon would appreciate him pawing through what amounts to his personal journal, but he's going to do it anyway, swallowing down any traces of guilt to read through their contents.]
[The first is dated the first week after their arrival.
My dear Ibuki,
I hope this isn't a fool's wish, writing to you like this. But I worry my memory won't hold for what matters, and I don't know how long it will be until we have the chance to talk.
I wish I could show you the lands I've found myself trapped in. For once, it isn't Barbatos, but something else entirely. The people are diverse. The land is saturated with the spiritual. And yet, I feel like I did when I was still young. Clumsy and unsure of myself. It's a challenge, and one I've been happy to look into.
I never told you about that, did I? My childhood. I'll have to plan to. Later, when I can see you again. When you've woken up.
There's so many that are even younger than you here. Some who have never seen magic as more than a parlor trick. Some who are in similar situations to myself. There's even one here that reminds me so much of you, in ways. Though, the more we talk... maybe it's less that he is like you, and more that I see myself in him. Reckless and untampered potential. But the fiery heart, the sharp tongue... the confidence in the face of something that would scare a common person? That makes me think of you often. I can't help how I want to scold.
Maybe it helps, in turn, that I haven't abandoned you again. Even if it's just a ghost of your spirit somewhere, in the form of another.
I hope the brothers continue to visit you. I hope they treat you gently and kindly. I hope Simeon's blessing is keeping your heart beating. As for me, I made a promise I would do whatever I could. The distance between us in space and time will not change that, so long as I have the strength to help it.
I will find a way to rescue you, my dear apprentice. If I cannot find the answer to your curse at home, I will beg until I find it here, so that I can help you back home where you belong.
Please hold on.
-S
The letters that follow maintain a similar structure. Casual remarks of the people and the places. He mentions he cannot feel Barbatos, that his power is waning. "I want to send us both back, but I'm growing concerned the longer time moves on that even I won't be able to go back on my own anymore." He brags and bemoans, he speaks warmly of many. He speaks of a demon in their midst that isn't quite a demon. Of a human turning into a monster. Of vampires and ghouls, dragons and gods, children of Earth and children of the moon and children from beyond the stars themselves.
He mentions names both familiar and otherwise. Lucifer. Mammon. Leviathan. Satan. Asmodeus. Beelzebub. Belphegor. Diavolo. Simeon. Luke. Mephistopheles. Raphael. Thirteen.
And once, only once, does he write the word Nightbringer, though the sentence has been scribbled out hastily.
The longer the letters go on, the more tired his tone becomes. His phrases start to grow clipped. But over and over, he repeats:
"I will find a way to rescue you, my dear apprentice."
In his most recent letter, he keeps it brief.
Ibuki,
The others from the North do not care. I am too tired to babysit their intentions when I have been sitting for far too long on my word.
I'm heading into the North. I have told the Sage only where I am going, and not what I will be doing. Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I don't want the young or well intentioned to follow. I won't be able to look any of them in the eye if anyone is to suffer for what I'm about to explore. I know you would look at me angrily for this. But I would rather they think of me as suspicious and to consider my cause a waste, than to risk any of the brilliant souls that need to be here.
Should I not come back the same as I left, please know that I love you. I have always loved you. I'm sorry, that it has not been enough. I'm sorry, that I never showed it when I could.
I will find a way to rescue you, my dear apprentice. If I can manage this much, then maybe there is still hope.
[These are the answers he was desperate for, the ones he'd relentlessly hounded Solomon for. Now that Akira has them, how is he supposed to feel? How does he feel?
He's scarcely aware of the presence of his own body until he's reminded by his body that he needs to breathe, to blink, to tear his eyes away from the pages of Solomon's journal and neatly slot it away where he'd found it. His mind is numb, blessedly, enough so that his hands seamlessly move to open that second packet and thoroughly read its contents.
At this point, he's already violated Solomon's privacy and betrayed his trust. He may as well pile up his sins and accept whatever punishment comes later.]
[The second packet is far more clinical and academic writing, perhaps blessedly for Akira and his emotions. There are pages on every wizard in the manor, on Tatara, and a page labeled "Dror" that has a small addendum underneath indicating this is meant for Lazuli. He notes the strengths he's observed, their behaviors, the things they like. He notes what he would like to cook for them.
There are writings of plants and animals, sketches of rather high quality. There are notes of every city they've explored - their people, the politics, the tensions.
Every week has detailed notes of the happenings around the manor. Some are mundane. Some are not.
The week of the ball, there are detailed notes. Of speaking with a man named Henry, of a village by Oz's castle. Of their worries, and of the stories of Oz rescuing Arthur from the snow, and of the fear of Central retaliation.
On both incidents with Mika, the notes are clipped. There is a running list that Akira can start to easily notice is those that are not human, those that are dangerous. There is mention of discussion of a pact that was not pursued. There is mention of Mika asking to be killed if he ever goes out of control. There is further mention of Tatara protesting, and of Solomon's rejection of that protest should the worst come to happen.
The return of Central should not be unfamiliar. Notes of who came back hurt. Notes of Akira's behavior, and the attempts Solomon planned to make. Notes of the failure, the bonfire, and Solomon's part in it. He mentions Kurapika taking Akira away, and holding onto his weapons until Kurapika came to pick them up. There are mentions of some believing Solomon was to blame, though there is no further note to say whether Solomon declined.
He is relieved that Akira is back, even when the notes bleed into the East, into his arrest. He mentions Bruno punching him the second they were released. He mentions the apologies afterwards, the travelling through town. Of how hard it was, but how much harder still it was to see Akira unable and unwilling to forgive himself. "I wish there was more I could do." - hastily scribbled out.
Easts return notes of concerns of the tension present. Will those of the North fare any better?
Finally, the most recent week, which is sparse. It's the North, and a rough map has been drawn. "There will be no chance to charge with the skies so cloudy. I haven't slept much, but if it means my amulet will hold, then I will sleep under the stars instead."
And near the bottom, scrawled rapidly:
"Bruno hexed me at the jail. How did I not notice?
I'm leaving tonight. Hopefully his tongue will stay tied until I'm far enough away."]
[It's a cold comfort, the more detached, academic manner in which these notes are written.
I wish there was more I could do. Solomon cares far more than he's given him credit for. Even so... that doesn't necessarily equate to trust.
Akira will sort his feelings out in his own time. For now, he's setting those notes aside, closing the drawer, and making another sweep around the room in search of anything else of note.]
[There's a large amount of magical items, many of which he's set on a shelf separately from the rest. Candies, books, a charm or two, a set of glasses, a Ouija board. It looks like he's deliberately avoiding this shelf, given it doesn't seem to be kept to the same special care as the rest of the space.
There are five figurines that look familiar, set in a neat row near one of the top shelves. It looks like someone found the gachapon before he left.
Akira can feel free to look through the bookshelves, but everything else that has been written is specifically in languages Akira will not be able to read - Latin, Hebrew, Greek, Arabic. Diagrams of circles and seals and calculations, many of which have had red ink crossing them in places. Lists of failures upon failures.
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during north mission
A little bit more, and... there. It's open.]
no subject
It's a cozy but oddly sparse space of a room, walls of stone and floors of old wood, a simple single bed and a small fireplace against one wall flanked by two plush red chairs with gnarled golden metal framing twisting the arms and legs into something rather antique and posh as well as comfortable. The desk near the center of the room is stacked with books upon books, pages and bottles and quills and drawings scattered to and fro. Bookcases line one of the walls, though they seem rather bare, now housing only the odd trinket or rolls of parchment tied off with string. Two oddly shaped snowmen sit on one of the shelves. A small cauldron sits close to the fireplace, though it looks like it's been relatively untouched for a while. Near the window is a wooden cubby with red cushions to lounge, and several golden clocks dot the space at the mantle, on the desks, at the windows... and alongside the window sits not only a celestial globe, but a telescope as well. In the corner opposite his desk sits a baby grand piano.]
no subject
Now then... Any dressers and drawers are getting pawed through first. What might Akira find?]
no subject
The drawers of his desk mostly contain extra pots of ink, clean quills, and looseleaf paper. One particular drawer near the bottom is filled with a stack of many, many notes, carefully strung together by hand, though he would need to remove the notes to determine what they said. A pen of an unnaturally deep blue rests on top of the pile, golden flowers decorated across the casing.]
no subject
no subject
The second seems to just be a personal journal, written in the format of letters for every day spent. They are all started with the phrase My dear Ibuki.]
no subject
no subject
My dear Ibuki,
I hope this isn't a fool's wish, writing to you like this. But I worry my memory won't hold for what matters, and I don't know how long it will be until we have the chance to talk.
I wish I could show you the lands I've found myself trapped in. For once, it isn't Barbatos, but something else entirely. The people are diverse. The land is saturated with the spiritual. And yet, I feel like I did when I was still young. Clumsy and unsure of myself. It's a challenge, and one I've been happy to look into.
I never told you about that, did I? My childhood. I'll have to plan to. Later, when I can see you again. When you've woken up.
There's so many that are even younger than you here. Some who have never seen magic as more than a parlor trick. Some who are in similar situations to myself. There's even one here that reminds me so much of you, in ways. Though, the more we talk... maybe it's less that he is like you, and more that I see myself in him. Reckless and untampered potential. But the fiery heart, the sharp tongue... the confidence in the face of something that would scare a common person? That makes me think of you often. I can't help how I want to scold.
Maybe it helps, in turn, that I haven't abandoned you again. Even if it's just a ghost of your spirit somewhere, in the form of another.
I hope the brothers continue to visit you. I hope they treat you gently and kindly. I hope Simeon's blessing is keeping your heart beating. As for me, I made a promise I would do whatever I could. The distance between us in space and time will not change that, so long as I have the strength to help it.
I will find a way to rescue you, my dear apprentice. If I cannot find the answer to your curse at home, I will beg until I find it here, so that I can help you back home where you belong.
Please hold on.
-S
The letters that follow maintain a similar structure. Casual remarks of the people and the places. He mentions he cannot feel Barbatos, that his power is waning. "I want to send us both back, but I'm growing concerned the longer time moves on that even I won't be able to go back on my own anymore." He brags and bemoans, he speaks warmly of many. He speaks of a demon in their midst that isn't quite a demon. Of a human turning into a monster. Of vampires and ghouls, dragons and gods, children of Earth and children of the moon and children from beyond the stars themselves.
He mentions names both familiar and otherwise. Lucifer. Mammon. Leviathan. Satan. Asmodeus. Beelzebub. Belphegor. Diavolo. Simeon. Luke. Mephistopheles. Raphael. Thirteen.
And once, only once, does he write the word Nightbringer, though the sentence has been scribbled out hastily.
The longer the letters go on, the more tired his tone becomes. His phrases start to grow clipped. But over and over, he repeats:
"I will find a way to rescue you, my dear apprentice."
In his most recent letter, he keeps it brief.
Ibuki,
The others from the North do not care. I am too tired to babysit their intentions when I have been sitting for far too long on my word.
I'm heading into the North. I have told the Sage only where I am going, and not what I will be doing. Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I don't want the young or well intentioned to follow. I won't be able to look any of them in the eye if anyone is to suffer for what I'm about to explore. I know you would look at me angrily for this. But I would rather they think of me as suspicious and to consider my cause a waste, than to risk any of the brilliant souls that need to be here.
Should I not come back the same as I left, please know that I love you. I have always loved you. I'm sorry, that it has not been enough. I'm sorry, that I never showed it when I could.
I will find a way to rescue you, my dear apprentice. If I can manage this much, then maybe there is still hope.
-S]
no subject
[These are the answers he was desperate for, the ones he'd relentlessly hounded Solomon for. Now that Akira has them, how is he supposed to feel? How does he feel?
He's scarcely aware of the presence of his own body until he's reminded by his body that he needs to breathe, to blink, to tear his eyes away from the pages of Solomon's journal and neatly slot it away where he'd found it. His mind is numb, blessedly, enough so that his hands seamlessly move to open that second packet and thoroughly read its contents.
At this point, he's already violated Solomon's privacy and betrayed his trust. He may as well pile up his sins and accept whatever punishment comes later.]
no subject
There are writings of plants and animals, sketches of rather high quality. There are notes of every city they've explored - their people, the politics, the tensions.
Every week has detailed notes of the happenings around the manor. Some are mundane. Some are not.
The week of the ball, there are detailed notes. Of speaking with a man named Henry, of a village by Oz's castle. Of their worries, and of the stories of Oz rescuing Arthur from the snow, and of the fear of Central retaliation.
On both incidents with Mika, the notes are clipped. There is a running list that Akira can start to easily notice is those that are not human, those that are dangerous. There is mention of discussion of a pact that was not pursued. There is mention of Mika asking to be killed if he ever goes out of control. There is further mention of Tatara protesting, and of Solomon's rejection of that protest should the worst come to happen.
The return of Central should not be unfamiliar. Notes of who came back hurt. Notes of Akira's behavior, and the attempts Solomon planned to make. Notes of the failure, the bonfire, and Solomon's part in it. He mentions Kurapika taking Akira away, and holding onto his weapons until Kurapika came to pick them up. There are mentions of some believing Solomon was to blame, though there is no further note to say whether Solomon declined.
He is relieved that Akira is back, even when the notes bleed into the East, into his arrest. He mentions Bruno punching him the second they were released. He mentions the apologies afterwards, the travelling through town. Of how hard it was, but how much harder still it was to see Akira unable and unwilling to forgive himself. "I wish there was more I could do." - hastily scribbled out.
Easts return notes of concerns of the tension present. Will those of the North fare any better?
Finally, the most recent week, which is sparse. It's the North, and a rough map has been drawn. "There will be no chance to charge with the skies so cloudy. I haven't slept much, but if it means my amulet will hold, then I will sleep under the stars instead."
And near the bottom, scrawled rapidly:
"Bruno hexed me at the jail. How did I not notice?
I'm leaving tonight. Hopefully his tongue will stay tied until I'm far enough away."]
no subject
I wish there was more I could do. Solomon cares far more than he's given him credit for. Even so... that doesn't necessarily equate to trust.
Akira will sort his feelings out in his own time. For now, he's setting those notes aside, closing the drawer, and making another sweep around the room in search of anything else of note.]
no subject
There are five figurines that look familiar, set in a neat row near one of the top shelves. It looks like someone found the gachapon before he left.
Akira can feel free to look through the bookshelves, but everything else that has been written is specifically in languages Akira will not be able to read - Latin, Hebrew, Greek, Arabic. Diagrams of circles and seals and calculations, many of which have had red ink crossing them in places. Lists of failures upon failures.
Other than that? There is nothing else of note.]