citylogs | [ open ] kaveh's permanent catch-all

[ in all honesty, the bookstore isn't kaveh's place. not really. in kaveh's mind, the city is split between places that belong to kaveh's world, and places that belong to alhaitham's. there are the backroads, the hardware stores, the half-gutted stores in the mall deep within its wending corridors that kaveh knows nobody will spend time in, offices missing glass panes and window frames starting from the highest floors down because the welcome diner needed wall-to-wall-windows and nobody in the city is a glassmaker. kaveh's workshop spilling out into the streets where the rainwater gutters have never quite see the use they were meant for. that was kaveh's city. alhaitham's was thus: the level high roads, the city hall and the vault of secrets, a grocery store precisely five minutes away from his apartment that stocked the best coffee of the city, another 3 minutes south that had tahini in little jars that kaveh would empty out and fill with varnish and wax for the bows and the swords that have come out of his workshop in increasing numbers.

the bookstore.

in retrospect, it's odd to attribute the bookstore to being alhaitham's considering that it's a communal resource and that kaveh is familiar now with enough librarians to understand why there is one here in the first place. the store itself is tucked away in district one; it has an exposure that gives it lovely sunlight in the mornings, and the building it's been renovated from has an excellent view of a cozy little strip. if this were any other city, kaveh thinks, there would be little open storefronts with their owners calling out their wares at sun-up, foot traffic of wending, eager tourists or explorers of their own city finding their way here as if drawn. but this is a city where the only life there is is the life that they make of it. kaveh finds himself here, now, a little tote bag the shimmering with the colours of a primordial sea slung over his shoulder and a measuring tape in hand.

the door announces his arrival. kaveh looks in. he brightens. ]

Don. I didn't know it was your shift today.

[ the easy, routine walk that'd been interrupted for a short time returns as natural as can be, waiting like a dog to be let into the bookstore as early as she could manage in the morning (and, as it was going to become a regular occurrence, dozing off until angela came by with the key and a not-as-gentle foot to wake her) before attending to various duties as others arrived.

ensuring the books are cleaned, well-taken care of, and in their proper places for whatever had been penned down in them, be they poems or medical practices, stories based purely in fiction or the opposite; it's a job don quixote wouldn't have imagined herself enjoying as much as she has been, though if that's the fault of her coworkers or because she likes the structure of work itself is yet to be determined.

illustrating them, too, was on her list of chores, and it by far kept her hands the busiest. it's what she does when she hears the bell, head lifting ready to greet the next guest, and her expression brightens back when she sees who it is. ]

I am trying to take on extra hours, for I have been given a low score on my performance review. If I am going to do a job, I should like to give it my best effort!

[ and thus, the shift. the tote bag catches her eyes next, sparkling just like the pretty thing, and don sets aside the watercolor she'd been practicing for a fairy tale to both greet kaveh properly and get a good look at his pretty thing. would it be rude to ask for one? it's so shimmery. glizzy, even. ]

A-hem! Good day to thee, beloved patron of The Bookstore! If there is any this one may do to assist, simply call her name... but I am more interested in knowing what thee plan to do with that tape of thine.

[ don quixote brightens. she brightens much in the way of a wayward sun. kaveh grins at it. in all the harrowing events of october, it's don's resilience that has kaveh believe that she would have come out alright one way or another. in another way, it's good to be able to see someone removed from the mess that has cratered the rest of kaveh's life.

don looks up from where she had been applying watercolour to the page. kaveh breathes in the scent of the paint, and feels cheered for it. he ambles up with a curious glance, one palm pressed into the table as he considers the colours and the composition.

beautiful, kaveh thinks. ]

And there's you. [ kaveh laughs. ] How did you come to have a low score on your performance review, Don? That doesn't seem much like you. Were you sleeping on the job, perhaps? Or did you chase someone ardently for an overdue book?

And as for this, [ kaveh gives his measuring tape a tweak, ] I'm just here to take a look at the space. Your colleague Yesod mentioned that there may be need for a printing shop here. I wanted to see if there's space to work with. Are you the only one on shift today?

I talk too much and do too little, in the words of Miss Angela, whom is ever-here as well... so I must keep up some appearance of professionalism, even if I should wish otherwise.

[ she loves talking with guests as they come in, after all. those who drop by are her friends or quickly become people she's friendly with. it's just, as kaveh may think rightly, don quixote lets herself chatter on too much, too long, and too loudly as per her personality-- ]

And I adore to read the stories we have collected thus far, even if it is a reread. I lose track of time quite easily. Nonetheless, perhaps the addition of that which thee speak shall cheer her enough to overlook such apparent flaws, [ an aside, ] though I do not think them as such myself, [ back to it, ] and grant me a smile!

[ room... well, she can leave the desk a little and take kaveh around to a potential spot or two in the back of the "store", she can do that much. besides, it's precious time to spend with a friend; angela would know best where an appropriate amount of space would be, but don covets the time she gets to spend with others dearly as ever.

she'll make a small gesture to follow and trot to the backside of the store, there's bound to be open space or a smaller room in need of remodeling among the doors. ]

[ kaveh can see it in his mind's eye. tasks to be done, books to be sorted, and don quixote, brightly chatting her way forward at the front with whoever it is that has stumbled upon this place. she would excel anywhere that allowed her to speak, though the topic has to be one that's reasonably malleable. efficiency is next to godliness, yes, but kaveh has always thought that it was a management issue if there is a mismatch in skills. you couldn't measure someone's weaknesses with the same scale you would their strength, and if someone wanted to put don quixote to proper work, they should have tailored a position that worked for her.

the thought is an ephemeral one. it's eclipsed by this: kaveh had sworn that he would remember the name 'angela'.

kaveh looks. ]

Certainly, I don't think of it as a flaw either. I think all of us have our strengths; it's the fault of a standardised set of measurements for failing to account for strengths that aren't measurable. [ he follows at a clip, buoyed by the energy of her gestures and the right-quick way she navigates the wending shelves. a smaller space opens up. kaveh pulls out his measuring tape with a hum. ] By the way, who is Angela? Is she the one who gave you your performance review?

Aye. That is our lovely manager of this establishment, as well as the head director of a library back in our City -- she hails the same place as myself, as well as a growing handful of others. They know her better than I, but I am determined to befriend her nonetheless!

[ maybe she'll stop lowkey blackmailing her, then. don stands off to the side to let kaveh work, hand tracing a nearby shelf. all of these books are empty for now, but she can fill them with the stories in her mind; they'll be hidden until they're found.

picks out one with a deep green cover, opens it, and turns to the starting page as she plucks a pen hidden behind her ear into the light. what sort today... ]

She is... strict, but not unkind. While she may harp so, she does not close the bookstore 'til I have finished a chapter. I do not hold the discipline against her much, for as many employees as she has 'tis expected! Mine own boss, Sir Vergilius, is very much the same.

[ so it must be the same person, kaveh thinks. director of a library, the same city. it has to be. in retrospect, all of this could have been gleaned by a quick glance at the directory and then some, but in kaveh's defense - he had been busy not-living not-sleeping not-existing, and it had become something of a habit. don is pleased as she speaks of angela. strict, but not unkind. not kind, either, but kaveh's well aware of his biases in this very moment.

don is kind, to love and see good as she much as she does. kaveh ought to learn from her, he thinks. slowly, he lets out a breath that he hadn't known he had been holding. ]

I'm glad she's not unkind, by any stretch of the imagination. I've worked under unreasonable bosses before; it can take the life out of work that is terribly fun.

[ kaveh's measuring tape snaps shut. he finds a different angle of approach, pausing now and then to jot something down in his sketchpad, and then to swap for a different-coloured pencil from the crow's nest of his hair. ] Oh, but you draw and you write all day, don't you? Do your wrists hurt?

They do, in ways I am unfamiliar with. I am used to the sorts of aches that come from wielding my lance, but its smaller and just as deadly cousins have something of a different feel...

[ it's the angle, maybe. different than the straightness of a lance, a sword, a baton -- her pen remains remarkably acute, somewhat slanted against the page. just enough to get the ink there. ]

Have thee any advice to offer, my friend? I shall follow to the letter!

[ kaveh considers this. ]

My best advice? Stretches, every hour on the hour. Wrist exercises and whatnot. I wish I had the discipline to do so back in school, as that would have saved me a significant amount of time - a sore wrist doesn't help at all when it comes to finishing last-minute drafts, or taking on extra project work. I can draw you a few diagrams on what the exercises look like.

But beyond that, I also recommend having a wrist rest. The Haravatat have developed quite a few good ones, and I've co-opted theirs ever since. That way, there's less strain on your wrist overall. Did you want me to get one for you?

[ exercises... she's taking out a separate notebook, size of her palm and covered in cat stickers, as she notes it down. stretches and exercises; she'll be happy to have the diagrams for certain, if it'll ease the ache from time to time. ]

I should like it very much, since I cannot recall a time I have every rested my wrist on anything softer than the very pillow I sleep on! And that is not a particularly good position to be drawing in, Young Kaveh, or so I have found. Are the Haravatat like thyself?

[ architects, and such. ]

[ it tickles him a little, kaveh thinks, to be called young by don. there's something in him that can almost believe it. he grins. ]

Oh, no. I'm Kshahrewar; we are the study of architecture, engineering and technology. Our mascot is that of the lion. Haravatats study language, semiotics and the very study of knowledge itself. Their mascot is the bull. You know a Haravatat, actually - you've met Alhaitham. And he is very much the mascot of his Darshan - that is, his area of study.

You'd make a fine Kshahrewar, I think. [ teasingly: ] Shall I adopt you as my junior?

That is dependant on if I am requiered to say what thee just did.

[ he Said It and she can already feel the word too full for her mouth. but she grins in kind, tickled to be someone's squire rather than the other way around, and gives a thoughtful hum. ]

I am not too knowledgeable on any of the subject thou art, nor half as passionate, but I'm happy that thee think I should make a fine one regardless. It is the battlefield or not at all for one such as myself!

[ her hobbies aside, anyway, more alike to his own. ]

[ the battlefield, don says, with the exuberant grin of a young woman speaking of something else - like a hope, like an aspiration. kaveh looks. ]

Oh? [ kaveh says, ] But you seem plenty happy here. If you had a choice, would you still choose the battlefield over working at a bookstore?

[ ...

it's a pause, and a little uncomfortable in truth; the don before may not have hesitated, but this one certainly does. ]

I have become used to this, [ in general, the ease of day to day, ] but I cannot deny that I miss, somewhat, that which I came from -- I have spent far more of my life fighting, in one way or another.

[ be it by fist or some other way. it's something her body more than anything else is used to, then; evident in the way don is always keeping an eye alert, quick glances and an ear open for sounds. she sets her notebook on a shelf and writes on idly. ]

It is hard to say. There is much to like about my current position, just as there was much to like about my prior -- though I know many would disagree that there is any merit in the violence necessary to carry out my duties.

[ kaveh thinks, if this were him, what would he do? if this were a world where nothing needed to be built, if the concept of architecture hadn't been invented, if there were no materials to build with and the barrenness of the land stretched to all of eternity - would kaveh adapt to another craft and enjoy it? perhaps. but there would be a part of kaveh who would invent architecture from nothing. that's what it means to love something.

in a way, he thinks, he understands it. that primordial love. ]

I see. While merit is subjective, I think your passion for it is objective. The fact that it was and still is a part of you. We could debate the minutiae forever, but there's something fundamental about liking something that can't be explained. If I were in a world where architecture did not exist, I would invent the concept of it, just to feel whole again.

[ kaveh considers this. ] If given the chance, between going to another world, staying here, or going home, you would go home, then? If an end to this world ever came to pass.

I must go home.

[ reticent, without ire or determination; simple fact. there is no matter of the possibility or want of it, no chance to be had -- simply that. ]

I cannot explain why outside of it is due to mine employment there, but it is the same for Sinclair and any other who may follow us.

[ ... kaveh's really pulling out the hard questions today. ]

[ 'must', don says. not 'want', not 'like'. 'must'. kaveh looks. ]

... is it Angela?

[ she, after all, killed netzach. and netzach would also choose to go back. ]

Nay, she is no one to me there -- I am part of the Limbus Company, if thee should recall... recruited by the Red Gaze -- by Sir Vergilius himself for the procuration of particulars left behind after a Wing's falling. [ that's good enough. ] We are bound by contract to do so.

[ ... yeah, that's good enough. ]

I cannot break it.

[ not must, just cannot ]

[ there's something else here, kaveh thinks. there always is. a contract by magical means, a compulsion, a threat, a need. but it's the wording that catches kaveh between the act and the motion. of course it would. after all, kaveh lives with the foremost haravatat scholar of his generation. contract, don says. a contract is a stipulation of terms, a legalised exchange. for what don is putting in, don will get something out of it.

and whatever that is is enough for her choose, with certainty, what she cannot. ]

No. [ kaveh says, after a moment. a beat. his tone warms: ] I was wrong. Perhaps you've a Haravatat in you after all.

It is the easier to say, but I cannot claim to be interested in what Ser Alhaitham learns either.

[ she eases though, unaware of the tension she'd been holding; the lines of her writing grow smooth again. ]

It has crossed my mind, for I rather like dressing up and having my pick of what to eat, and I shall miss those I have met... but it is only an idle thought. I should think any unbound would like to stay, though. It is a far better life than what one can find where they have been born, even if it is a little... how does one put it. A little unnerving at times.

Oh? There are even things that unnerve you? The bravest of us all.

[ says kaveh, as he observes the lines of don's writing. ] Tell me this at least: have your thoughts on justice changed since coming here?

[ bravest of them all... when she's scared of such human things, of having human things? good that she can still be relied on, be trusted. fear does not become a hero, and she brushes it off simply: ]

It makes one restless, is all. [ nice way to put it,

though the second question stops her hand for only a moment, the slant continuing as she speaks. ] Nay, not particularly. It has grown, perhaps, more selfish... but it has not changed, nor have my preferred methods in dealing with injustice changed. True evil is a conscious act, but one without choice is a victim -- that is simple fact. It is a matter of principle.

[ restless, don says, not bravery. kaveh looks. he smiles. ]

I remember. [ because he remembers, the story of that don once told. the story between choice and what was made to choose. kaveh has always thought that even inaction is a sin. but don, who charges forward, who respects autonomy - that's don, kaveh thinks. ]

But good. I think everyone ought to hold something so strongly within themselves that they would be changed if it were taken away from them. Everyone must have something that causes them to burn. But I think - we should allow ourselves to change, and we should allow that thing within us to change as well. If we don't, how can we become the best versions of ourselves? That's what I've always thought.

Something such as justice should not be changed too much 'lest it lose all meaning, nor should it soften for the same reason.

[ to what ends can someone justify something, after all? kromer can justify herself all she'd like, and it's still wrong -- not that don doesn't understand, a little, as someone who values experiences herself, and while the method is similar to herself as well... if don lingers too long on similarities between herself and that woman she grows cold, and so she puts a stopper on it.

after all, don wouldn't persecute someone for a choice that hurts no one else. ]

There is truth in thy words, however. I do not know what the best version of myself may be, but I hope that she is happy as well -- there is no point in excelling if it causes one to suffer in the same breath. [ ... ] But if it is any consolation, I have... come to understand, truly, why others may be so angered when I seem thoughtless in regards to my own life and safety.

[ it took. a while. but she's got it, after repetition from more than strangers, more than one source. that's a new version of herself. a little closer to best. ]

[ kaveh's smile softens. of course it does. something as justice should not be changed too much, lest it loses all meaning, nor should it soften for the same reason - but don is more than just justice-made-form. she is a young lady who loves art, who creates with her hands and lends light to the world beyond. she is a terror of truly awful ideas and the brilliant strike of something flint and paper. don is more than just what she has carved from the world.

any consolation, huh. ]

It's more consolation than you would suppose, Don. [ kaveh says, quietly, with the soft lines of his smile like so. ] It gladdens my heart to hear it. I still remember how we first met, you know. I never told you, but I went back to Alhaitham and I yelled at him for an hour because I was so angry at you - and what you had to do. You said it was personal; I was hardly in any position to intervene. It wouldn't have been right to do so. But letting you choose to die wasn't right either, and to this day I still stand by that thought.

If you care for yourself just a little more - well, what can I do but to thank you?

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icanfixer - 2023-12-10 17:08 (UTC) - Expand

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fussiest - 2023-12-11 10:10 (UTC) - Expand

[ open ] kaveh's permanent catch-all

closed. @don

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