OTA | Sending Crystal

[alankazam]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Alan
RECIPIENT: Everyone
WHAT: Maybe y'all should keep closer track of your crystals
WHEN: Waves hands vaguely
WHERE: Everywhere
NOTES: Jack away...I'm sure there's a better way to phrase that

Hello, little rock.

You ask so many questions. All day, all night, and in all voices. What's worse than dying? Who are elves? How do you kiss one?

Listen to me: I can ask questions too. What are stars made of? Who put them there? Do you think they must have been very, very tall?

And — Who do you belong to?

Comments

[doneisdone]

What in the name of Maferath's balls are you on about.

i love her already

[alankazam]

They had names? Do you have a name?

[doneisdone]

Their names were Maferath's balls. My name is Senior Warden von Skraedder.
Being asked inane questions is worse than dying.

[gatheringstorm]

[She almost ignores this, but that voice sounds vaguely familiar and gives her pause.]

...Aran--no, wait, Alan. Alan? Is that you?

[alankazam]

Is it?

[ From the tone of his voice, it's a genuine question.

He can't quite place hers, himself. Deep, deeper than most he's known — a recent speaker, but also —]

I suppose it is.

[ Faint relief at that. How helpful. ]

[blessedmaiden]

Only items belong to someone, sentient beings... how can you 'own' another person?

[alankazam]

Slavery.

[ You asked, Rydia.

A beat, he sounds slightly doubtful. ]

Big questions, for a talking rock.

[provenforce]

Stars are luminous spheres of plasma, most of them are billions of light years away. As for who put them there, well. Depends on who you ask.

[at least she's assuming science here is the same as science at home. maybe they're made out of glowing cats she wouldn't know.]

[alankazam]

Are you Orlesian?

[ She must be a foreign spirit, because he have a single clue what she's saying. "Plasma" sounds almost Tevene, but billion, that has to be Orlais — and the quickest way to figure out where anyone's from in Ferelden is to ask if they're Orlesian.

It's also the quickest way to start a barfight, but there's no danger of that here. ]

And what if I asked you? I already know what I think, so there's no real point in talking about that.

[motherfucking_ghost]

Oh my god. [Oh no please Church do not confound the poor weirdo even more.]

Most of those questions aren't bad questions, and I don't fucking belong to anyone, thanks. [Not anymore, technically.] Do you belong to someone?

[alankazam]

You're welcome.

[ wellp ]

My life belongs to the Maker. But I'm not a shiny rock.

[ so, yknow ]

[anacardiaceae]

[ Pamelia's accent is very Rivaini. ]

I think perhaps you are a bit confused.

[ Since his replies to others seem to indicate... ]

None of the voices you hear from the crystal are inside of them. The crystal is merely a tool for communication.

Maybe the stars were put there by whatever exists on the other side of them.

[alankazam]

If I thought that too, do you think it'd be a reliable thought? Confused as it is.

[ A casual question, if a bit dryly-intended. Peculiar he might be, but Alan isn't dim. His voice stays even, cordial. ]

I once heard a man say that the Void lies beyond the stars, and that is why we see only blackness behind them. Others say the Void is deep beneath the earth. I suppose it might be both — but either way, I shouldn't like to meet what lies within.

Tools belong to people. Whether they're stars, or little rocks.

[justice_is_blond]

I belong to myself. As do you.

[alankazam]

You don't belong to the Inquisition?

[ Many voices, many crystals — or so he's been led to believe. It can't be outside the realm of possibility that someone else like him has found one, he supposes. ]

I belong to many things. Ferelden, the Maker, the snow and sky.

[circleprodigy]

I belong to the Grey Wardens, if anyone. What of yourself?

[alankazam]

I'm not a warden.

[ he's so helpful ]

But there are more of them, in this Skyhold?

[nonsibi]

You figure out the rock yet?



[e.g., how it's not actually talking.]

[alankazam]

Oh, yes. It sparkles admirably. Are they all identical?

[ is his prettier than the others, bellamy, should he bother giving this back ]

[arlathvhen]

Long ago, the earth gave Elgar'nan, the first Elvhen god, gifts of life. Fantastic creatures and flowers. The sun saw, and became jealous, deciding to burn all these gifts into ash. Elgar'nan fought with the sun and the blood that the sun spilled became the stars.

[ Thoughtful pause. ]

I belong to the Dalish. To my clan.

[alankazam]

Was it the sun's blood? Or Elgar'nan's?

[ Fiery blood, shiny blood. Either way, there's always power in it. There's power in stories, too, to explain the things they don't have a shape for. It speaks to a certain violence in the elven view of the unknown — which isn't to say that he disagrees. Violence is a fact of nature, as unavoidable as it is necessary to strike away from. ]

I've met with Dalish before, [ Primarily, he's eaten their halla. ] But we've never traded stories. They belong to so many different people, that perhaps they own themselves. Much like the stars.

[ and you know, beleth, but that's her business ]

[obi_wanmanshow]

Stars are mostly made of hydrogen plasma.

[This said dryly.]

No one put them in the sky, they were-- born there, for lack of a better term.

[alankazam]

You're the second to say that word.

[ Plasma. The furrow in his brows isn't audible, but it's trying hard to get there. His vocabulary's growing quickly, and without real definition. On a muddy little bank in the Korcari, someone's been drawing letters with a stick, trying to work it out. ]

Did your mother put you in the world?

forever late, so sorry

[universal_charm]

Gas. Stars are made of gas and dust.

_{[ Literal answer is literal. SCIENCE! ]}

Not sure about that last one, though.

it's all good bruh!

[alankazam]

The dust would only come apart.

[ A flat statement, but not incurious. If only Kirk could see the little jazzhands he's making. ]