Atrisian Archives Open for the Right Key (Brom Burnside)

[Yasha Cadera]

"Awesome! I'm glad I picked the right accomplice for this wonderful tradition-saving venture. . . you have papyrus, that's . . . that's great. What is it, exactly? Animal, vegetable or mineral?" I hoof it down the stairs and start counting my left, left, lefts until I get to the first right. The light fades off in the distance, the strong musk of under circulated air pushing toward us in an oppressive push downward on my thin, huddled shoulders. "Right."

I point at the glorified tunnel, gulp and look over to my accomplice. [member="Brom Burnside"]'s cool as a usual in this environment and I wish I could open up, steal some of that confidence, but that would be the worst idea. One of us has to know what's what. It's enough to keep the imprint of the archives Mistress in my head. My steps slow down, I count them in my head, or better put in her head. She counted the steps, precision as meditation. My hand glides across the wall, matching lines from hundreds of walks the woman took along these places.

She died last week. She died while I held her hands and assured her the histories and stories younger folk forgot or refused to care about would not be forgotten. Her imprint wrestles with my mind, gradually draining but for the familiarity of this place. I couldn't keep my chin from wobbling for a second, pushing past the ache of this place for the woman who had served all her life in this one place. How can I explain it to Dissero? I push the back of my hand to my face, keeping the perception of Anders on the front of my face.

We get to the door and I put my hand on it. "This is it." I wish my voice hadn't been as shaky as it felt in the air. The door swishes open angrily, and inside is the queen of the musty smells. "What is that smell?" It smelled like history and ages past. The place was filled from bottom to top with a lifetime's worth of research and when the woman had died, they just . . . "They sealed it up. Didn't clean it out or look at it, they just sealed the door. Smoothed it over. Like she didn't exist. . . Baiko what was it you wanted us to find?"

My eyes shimmer, there are scrolls, objects, amulets, old holodrives. . . I shut my eyes and look with Baiko's eyes. "There's box of . . . of boxes. She watched the boxes shine with blue. It's a box that smells like tea leaves. . . there's more. Scrolls, accounts of people who disappeared, of what they could do. Of prophets and priests who had uncanny senses. . . she didn't know what they were."

 

[Dissero]

"It's paper," the Archivist remarked, "or on some planets a very poor choice of font."

He doesn't quite pick up on the emotions circulating [member="Anders Sivas"]' thoughts, though daftness was not something he was known for. Dissero arched a brow at Anders as the silence between them grew heavier, inundated by the stale air and the sense of growing historical tension. There's something he can sense, but for all his social prowess Dissero can't decipher what. Perhaps because it wasn't Anders at all, but the mysterious entity occupying the empath's mind.

He didn't press the issue and was for all the galaxy relieved when they arrived at their destination. With a sigh and a gentle clearing of his throat, head tucked, he followed Anders in. It took only seconds for his mind to drift to far-off memories of his own, nostalgia gripping the Archivist as he waded through the scent, the sight, the sensation of the old, arcane and mysterious.

"Oh," the man replied to his companion's query on the smell, "it's so many things, Sivas."

The desire to leave the Councilor to his own devices in order to pursue his curiosities was strong, but Dissero willed himself to maintain his purpose here: to help Anders.

"Sounds like she was keeping records of our mystery geist. Box of boxes...tea leaves..." despite the overwhelming musty scent and aging papers, this was something he could help with. Dissero had many secrets, some of them far less consequential than others. One was the super-human senses he wielded thanks in part to the blood of his mother and her ancestors.

The man began looking for a box, or what was more likely a chest. One that smelled of tea leaves and contained further boxes.

"What's it look like?" he queried, moving to clear a stack of scrolls from a large box set against a wall. The dust in here was at least an inch thick.

 

[Arage Bao]

A ripple, shimmers in the dark and probability was overridden. It was as simple as that and the best thing in a situation such as this one was to spend as few words on it as possible, the healthiest course for your psyche and all.

At the end, when the metaphorical dust had settled, when all other possibilities were firmly crossed out and when his silhouette implemented itself into this reality, Ovmar finally leaned against the counter nearby in the corner.

He was still a few clicks in front of them, the eyelids traveling at a disturbingly slowish tempo only underlined this fact. Some people would have liked to think that time had literally stopped or at the very least slowed down to accommodate the Sith Lord. Jared knew better, such things would have cost far too much energy for his liking, instead he was moving at a considerably faster phase.

Same thing really at the end of the day, just a difference in perspective. A sad glance was spend on Andra.

'Can't change the future, chief.'

'Don't you think I know that?'

'Just bloviating advice, no need to be stingy.'

Ovmar looked away and his gaze found someone else. Dissero, the Archivist, he looked different and it wasn't the mustache that made the difference. It was something in the facial expression.

Younger, less worried. A few years as a High Councilor would do that to a man. Finally the Sith reached out with his mi-

'What are you doing?'

'You aren't supposed t-'

'Don't you think it is strange he told me about this mission all those years ago?'

'I suppo-'

'We are growing arrogant. Remember what Merrill told us, the Orb served the Will. More and more I have the feeling our travels aren't entirely random.'

'A disturbing thought.'

'Quite so.'

His mind finally finished its motion and touched Dissero. The Archivist found himself... moving, though from his perspective he had been moving all along.

A cough would alert him to a familiar presence in the corner.

 

[Dissero]

A box of boxes. Scent of tea. Box of boxes ... box of-

Cough.

"Pretty musty in here isn't it..." Dissero offered over his shoulder to what he believed to be Anders in the corner ... except Anders wasn't in the corner, he could still make out the form of the Councilman just within his peripheral sight to his right, exactly where he should be.

Not to his left.

Something felt strange. There was a presence here that had not been, literally just a moment ago. A vaguely familiar presence, but there was a curious difference to it. Dissero looked up, still hunched over the chest he'd been in the process of lockpicking, and slowly craned his head to look into the corner.

Shoes.

Corners don't have shoes.

His eyes flickered up and for a split second the Archivist's brain malfunctioned.

"Uh..." who was that. Who was that? What's the name...the name.

"...hey Jae...what...uhm, what are you doing here?"

[member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Arage Bao]

What [member="Dissero"] was currently experiencing was the full expanse of space-time causality suddenly deciding to take that long break that it had been promised for such a long time, it took its bag and simply walked out of the office for a little while. While in the meanwhile mumbling something about promises made and ultimatums delivered, in the grand scheme of things it was simply important to realize that this was really happening.

And he didn’t even have a towel.

‘Ello Di.

Fether didn’t even need quotation marks anymore, what’s up with that?

Bolded speech?

That is so Before Yavin Passé.

One would think that realizing time, space and all the little things in between would make for an omnipresent, omnipowerful and a lot of other omni’s scattered around.

If only.​

I am simply observing.

How ya been by the by?

Oh cute, now he was also using taking advantage of differences in spacial awareness.

In the grand scheme of things Ovmar was currently almost certain that he had done this before, well… not him-him, but him. Confusion aside, Dissero wouldn’t have told him about this particular mission for no reason at all.

And that is the limitation of what he could do, he needed to know where and when, before he could ask reality for some leeway.