Distant Star - Log 06 - First Contact

Distant Star - Log 06 - First Contact

"Curious." It was likely the fourth time he'd said the word in the last hour. Not more than that, just 'curious' in an increasingly perplexed tone. It seemed strange that he might need to confer with another about the results of the equipment on his ship. There was only two other beings in the universe he would ever deem to have knowledge surpassing his own about the workings of his treasure of a Ship, and they were a Prodigal Genius and a Veritable God, respectively. However, these were not the normal circumstances. And so it went that Jack went romping off through the ship, from the Navigation Chamber, all through the decks and down the ladders towards the door that lead to the Library linked to his Estate House. He entered in a long-legged stride, and swept the room with a glance upon entering for sign of his guest.

Viira was perched on a high-backed chair, one foot settled on the knee of the other leg as she leaned over the desk reading from the gift Jack had given her. It was quickly proven more efficient just to read in the library to forgo the recording of the books she was in the process of reading. In particular, this one seemed to be a manual on the movements and interactions of celestial bodies as evidenced by the scribbled circles and lines and sigils denoting numbers on a spare sharkskin she'd procured. The fishbone quill was well stained and used the decorative spines at the top broken in places. She'd been diagramming the process currently described in said text for her own understanding, or rather trying to, when Jack came in. She glanced up and smiled, sitting back as she set the quill down, "Hello Jack. You've got perfect timing, could you check these diagrams see if my understanding is correct? I think I am... but it's hard to picture." She gestured as the pair of bladder-balls she'd been using as a visual aid with a sort of 'I feel like a kid' embarrassed expression.

Jack strode across the library floor, taking in the smell of rubbed cloves that his servants had put in the diffuser over the fireplace. He allowed himself to be momentarily distracted from his own course of action and came up beside her, glancing at her notes, at the page she was currently at (lifting the edge of Fnellian's Tome gently to peek at the text hidden beneath). "Ah, you've understood the principles well enough, though the theories are a little skewed in this case, you see..." He pointed to a slight orbital inconsistency and made a few lines of correction in shape rather than text for her benefit. "Do you see what the difference means, when it comes to the course taken to apogee?" He put down the bone quill and rubbed idly at the ink stains on his skin in lieu. "I actually have a few questions for you, Madame... I'm not sure what aspects of your world in specific are causing it, but something is wrecking havoc on my instruments. I do hope you might be able to account for it..."

She drew a few associated lines of implication then nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face as she tapped the top of the quill against her cheek. When he spoke his question, Viira blinked and looked up, tilting the brim of her favourite hat up a little more so she could properly see him, "Pardon? I don't know. Possibly, those chances are no - your equipment's so strange to me still. What's the question? Your ship's not, ah... damaged for some reason is it?"

Jack slouched back into himself, hips cocked forward, shoulders slumped forward, spine collapsed into a switchback on an S. "Nay, no damages... But, the instruments in the Navigation Chamber, the Levy Sphere in particular is nearly unintelligible." He paused, looking at her, and then realizing, he might be speaking Klergian for all she cared, he tried to think of a way of phrasing it that might be more accessible. "Er... The Levy Sphere... The, er...piece of equipment mounted into the ship's hull like...a nervous system? It picks up on Leyline sources so that it can pick them up...like a magnet? And relay them to the Alembic for conversion into usable energy..." He trailed off, squinting at her, wondering if he was helping or hindering the issue.

She peered at him, clearly trying to understand what he was saying but not quite getting it. Then came the explanation and a look of understanding dawned, "Oh, you're trying to get a fix on them? If you can do that, the world over would be impressed, methinks. You can't draw energy if you can't properly target them, right?" Viira seemed rather amused, "Either that, or they're messing with you."

"Messing with me..." He repeated uselessly, still squinting. Then he shook himself out and blinked rapidly, as if waking up. "Leylines don't move where I'm from. Or rather, they move in terms of eons, and so are imperceptible for the purposes of measuring or tapping into. Aether dust drifts, but it is a different energy source. It looks like what my equipment is trying to do is track aether dust when all of its senses are telling it that it isn't aether dust at all, but Leyline energy. It's as if a fish were calmly swimming through the sky with no water at all, and someone asked you to calculate its speed of flight." A short pause, a hand gesture as he tried to relate his analogy to the current discussion, "The Fish being a Leyline out of its element, if you see the light?"

She laughed, "They do here all the bloody time, it's next to impossible to find them if they don't want to be found. You're probably trying to toss a rope around the wind, my friend. Sails are better suited." Winking, she marked her place and rose, shutting the book. "If they're moving, it's because they're not sleeping... and I highly doubt any Leyline's out of its element - they're as old as the planet, Jack. I don't know much about them but the lore all says they're the most potent beings that exist here. I'm pretty some crazy cults on the mainland worship them.... and I can't really blame the cultists either, if those same legends are to be believed, you want on your side. I have a scroll if you want? It's not aged well though, so I'd be careful." She gestured at the door, then paused a moment, "Well, /they/ don't move - the lines that is - but their souls or thoughts or whatever do. Are your leylines not intelligent?" Viira seemed perplexed by the notion; Leylines were the stuff of legends and fairytales to the people of the planet, mainland and sea alike.

Jack stared at her. "Your Leylines are to our Mystics..." He murmured and then he paused, thumbing his earlobe. "Our Leylines aren't sentient, nay, nor are they alive. They are pockets of energy, same as there are deposits of ore." He thought on this, vaguely trailing after her, not quite looking at anything in particular. "If they are alive, with souls and thoughts, as you say, can a part of them even -be- taken? Am I chasing a Latimian through the woods, or is this honestly a viable method of recharging my ship?" He paused by the ledger, a thumb on the pages, idly pressing at its texture, ink forgotten and dried on his callus.

"Eh?" She blinked then tilted her head, "Ah, yeah, they can be taken. Though you're probably needing a lot of what they have to offer, right? You'll have to ask one yourself. S'far as I know, all the magic users draw their power from the Leylines - as in use them. I've never heard of one not being used unless they cut their connection off...." Viira pursed her lips, "I've never even seen one, to be honest, so I have no idea what to tell you. I only know they're tied to the cycles of energy inherent to the planet and that they're both sentient and capable of movement... and not the kind of people you want to piss off. Like I said, the lore scroll might be more useful? But if your instruments have odd readings it's likely because they're trying to track the Leylines as they move – the chart I gave you is just their physical locations. I can't do anything about where they actually are, sorry. They're not the sort to just come when called."

"They aren't, eh? What I would give to bring the Speak Box with me when I travelled. Unfortunately, I don't think they know the old Codes, your Leylines. Still, always was a good way to get the attention of all-powerful beings when you needed to." He grinned a little rakishly at old memories that had yet to lose their shine. "Summoning...summoning..." He murmured, and reached both hands into his pockets well-past his wrists, searching for something. After a moment he drew forth a crown. The thing was delicate and slender, a little too small to fit properly around Jack's skull, and instead sat atop his black hair when he chose to don it. The thing looked as though it was carved of hollow glass, with filaments of captured light running through it, and set into this flowing swirl of circlet were seven small orbs, like water droplets, each containing the light of a star, glimmering and flickering as if pulled from the heavens themselves. He lifted it in both hands, letting the circlet rest on his upturned palms. "May this finally find a use, I wonder..."

Viira stopped to watch him, a bemused expression on her features, "I still haven't gotten used to you doing that. I half expect you'll disappear entirely into a pocket one of these days, just curl and poof." When he produced his diadem, she tilted her head to the side, "And how is wearing a tiara supposed to summon a Leyline?" It was beautiful to behold, yes, and she was certain it was important - nearly everything of Jack's had some obscure purpose or two, she'd learned quickly enough - but to one not trained in the arts she saw only finely crafted crystal spun through with light. Meanwhile, as Jack donned the diadem, a ripple played out across the ambient, passive energies that permeated the channels of connection the Leylines often considered private. A new figure, a soul wholly alien to them, and it caught attention immediately. Three consciousnesses flashed like lightning across Jack's and though two swiftly faded, one lingered and an impression of a figure, humanoid in shape and lit from within seemed to regard him curiously for a moment before it too faded. Viira, ignorant of this, fixed the tilt of her hat as she turned to go, "What does it do?"

Jack placed the thing on his dark hair, the twinkling sending a play of reflected light cascading across his dark locks, his quet sticking up from under it like untended bed head. It sat a little askew, looking completely incongruent with the rest of his appearance and attire. Seemingly careless of how silly he looked, he swept his glance around the room, although his depth of sight was clearly not fixed on the material. Jack registered the shock of the minds pressing against his and swayed nearly drunkenly on his feet. His sky-legs gave him enough flexibility not to topple, and swiftly enough two of the minds drifted away, leaving him to pull himself upright again. One remained, yet, one shining being, as if it too were made of the materials used to craft the Diadem. Jack had enough time to register this, and then it left him, physically, he left the loss of it as if a great sorrow passed through him. He staggered again and then, hands shaking, reached out for the nearest stable thing to steady himself. He forced himself to breathe deeply, felt his heartbeat more quickened in his ribs than it had been in a decade or more. As he forced himself back to calm, he became away of Viira's voice, though it was nothing more than unintelligible sounds to him. He squinted, saw a smudge, an impression, and tore the crown off with an effort. The solid world clarified, Viira resolved from a smudge and he gasped, "Whot??"

Viira had stepped closer to him as he swayed and reached blindly out, offering her shoulder to steady him, a look of concern on her features, "I said 'what does it do'? Are you alright? You're pale..." The tone in her voice warned him not to lie and shrug it off. "Jack...." Elsewhere, a flurry of communications flickered across the Leylines, causing wards and spells to fluctuate oddly for several moments before they settled. When it did, a single mind seemed to focus and pull together into a knot of energy. Heartbeats later a young man gasped as his eyes burned and shone bright, glowing like starlight, then he too settled, rose and walked out the door, leaving the hot meal he'd just sat down to untouched.

"I can't die, remember... No need to worry about me..." He replied hoarsely, still trying to accustom himself to the shock of that. He hadn't needed to use this one of his Treasures before, as the Mystics were visible to the naked eye unless they were using their Arts to cloak themselves. He hadn't known what to expect, especially not on another world... Finding her eyes, he held her glance for a moment and in all seriousness said, "I'm not sure if that did anything I'd expected, but I think whatever it was that just happened...worked." He exhaled then, and swaying over to the nearest chair sank into it. "By the Leylines, I need a sit."

"Rergardless, you still feel pain, you're not a block of wood." She frowned at him then huffed, "Immortal or not, I'm still going to worry if Mr. Wonderpockets suddenly staggers.... though I'm half convinced you're made of noodles now too." Viira chuckled and shook her head, finding it was easy to forget he was as infamous and tough as he said he was. "That's all well and good, but what's it actually for? I'm assuming it's some new... gizmo of yours?" She grinned, having picked up a new word she rather liked the sound of from the texts.

"Aye, constant pain... Though that is not what currently ails me. I feel as if I have just been plunged into the darkness of eternity, or unceremoniously into ice water after touching the fire of creation." he pressed a hand to his face and then shook his head, the Diadem still clutched like a discus ring in his other fist. "Never mind my ramblings; I think I am yet scrambled. And more an Artifact than a Gizmo, m'dear." He added, the hand dropping away from his brow as he sagged back into the chair, his gaze finding hers, a wan smile on his still-pale lips, the grey eyes deep and dark with the weight of things he'd experienced brought fresh to the fore. "The Stellar Diadem, crafted for the line of Emperors of the Mystic races... Eons ago, by most accounts. It was said that then they were but a single species, not the many fractious races they are now, and that they held a time when they ruled the universe as a child stages wars with his toys. The legends vary, but the essence is this: The then-Emperor was gorged on his own power and satisfied with his lordly might to the point where he chose to make for himself a symbol that he was master of all creation. So, he plucked from the heavens Seven glittering stars from the far-flung quarters of the heavenly firmament, one for each of the Moons he ruled. He set them into his own crown, and replaced it on his head. When he did so, he was aghast to discover that he was but a small god walking in the world of giant, powerful, ancient energies that had existed long before his line had risen, and would be long after his empire had passed to dust. Humbled, and terrified, the Emperor spoke unto these giants of power and begged them forgive his hubris for being himself all-mighty. The Ancient Spirits did not care to heed him, except for one, (some say the youngest and most curious, other the eldest and wisest) and this being came unto him and said: Weep not little king, for you have power yet to take these seven suns from the blackness where they offered light and warmth to many worlds and all their peoples. Because of your power and might, they have all been snuffed out. You have the power to take away the light of stars that were once seen y all who gazed in wonder at the heavens, and now they are for your eyes only. You have the power to place yourself here amongst the powers of the universe, and be unseen. Horrified, the emperor snatched the crown from his brow and the beings all vanished from his sight. They say that he decreed that his kingdom should fall and his line of heirs go barren and fade away, for their dominance meant nothing. Others say he would don the crown every night and went mad with the visions it gave him. Others say he went on to rule for many more decades, and that after each great triumph or victory, he would don it again to remind himself of humility." Jack exhaled, the colour returned to his face and sat forward a little. "Whatever the end of the tale, the truth of history remains: there is no longer, and never again will be, an Emperor of the Mystics, nor an Empire for them to rule."

She leaned back against the wall beside Jack as he started in on his tale, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, regarding him with curiousity. Viira, smiled however, and nodded towards the end, "I think that's one of the checks here... one of the factors balancing everything. It doesn't matter if you're Korinthian or from the continent, everyone knows and acknowledges the Leylines. Our societies would be very different without them. I know there's legends where they take an avatar and incite change, level things out but I've no idea if that's true." She pushed off from the wall and arched a brow, "Is that what you did then? Talked to the Leylines? If I remember correctly, our position is nearest the parallel lines, we call them the twins because they run at the same angle and are the same distance throughout their lengths." Pointing at her feet, she smiled, "They run through the ocean's bed." "So if it worked, you got their attention?" She understood a little better now, why he seemed so unbalanced and wondered what it must be like to encounter one of the creatures unbound. "Did you still want to see that scroll or is that moot now?"

"Not so much talked to...as was seen by them. They know I am, and I they." Jack pushed himself with a grunt to his feet and waited a moment for the tingles of pain to trickle through his body. "Twins, say you? I felt the presence of three, but only one took form before me. A single body. But we did not speak before it left again..." He looked at her, considering her information and question carefully. "I'm not sure, in all honesty. I do not know which of them paused long enough to eyeball me, and as I said, it left again - I know not for where. My guess would be getting closer to it that stepped forward might make it easier to establish some form of normal - or at least closer to normal - contact. The problem is I don't know how to tell the difference between them. Would your scroll help discern which Leyline we might be chasing?"

"I see..." She frowned, thinking back over what she remembered from the scroll, "It gives general temperaments but there's no guarantee it's remotely correct - the legends tend to be three quarters conjecture. And, like I said, they're next to impossible to find if they don't want to be found. But.... supposing you caught the attention of those nearby..." Viira smiled, "I can take a guess as to who's who via that chart? We're not near the Prime or the Equator, so it probably wasn't them. Where's that chart?" She asked, tucking a stray fall of hair back behind her ear, "We never use that one otherwise I'd know it by heart."

"Never use it? A useful reference then..." Jack replied dryly, following her lead. "As I said, I felt three, two that left almost immediately, and one who lingered, stared right at me, then melted away." He paused. "I didn't get a long enough moment with them to be able to explain personalities or temperaments, I'm afraid though. I was left with the sadness, as I said, but I feel that was for their departure, not their sentiments." He was thoughtful, a tad retrospective, still clutching the diadem fiercely.

Viira frowned at him, "I navigate by the stars and skies, Jack, and the waves beneath my ship, not by invisible beings of power. It's a piece of information not many have any more, so yes a useful reference." Eyeing him a moment she stepped past, "Oh? They weren't upset? That's good to know." Her gaze flicked to the diadem and she pursed her lips, "Why not try again? If they weren't upset, then calling out again can't hurt. Can it?" She shrugged, "Beats the chart if you can ask one directly."

"I can don it, of course." Jack replied, looking around the corridor for a moment to no purpose. "But I recommend I stop moving to do so, or I might fall over this time." He had no more to say on the scroll until he had seen it. He knew as little of the workings of her world, and how they navigated as she did his, it seemed. It was a sentiment he was swiftly growing accustomed to. He drew up a fair distance between glass lanterns and, taking a deep breath to steel himself, once more replaced the Stellar Diadem to his dark hair.

She nodded and came alongside him as he stopped, keeping near in case his legs gave out regardless and watched expectantly. The thrum that had greeted him the first time he'd donned the circlet did so once more in an almost idle answer to some unintentional call. Nearly immediately a shudder rippled through the plane of awareness and a section seemed to grow cold, dark... empty, as if the space was in fact there but something had chosen to exclude him. The fabric of energies about him warped and shifted as the rest of the ambient forces reflexively picked up the slack and the cold drifted into a distant chill. In the heartbeats of that reaction, which carried tones of discomfort, the being from before suddenly sighed, the sound as if at Jack's ear. No words were spoken, simply impressions given. Firstly, Jack's toys were irritating in the way sand in the trousers were irritating. Secondly, patience... and thirdly, a half joking quip about caution with such things lest he burn his mind out. There was an undercurrent of discomfort too, but it seemed to tolerate the sensation of Jack's consciousness long enough to impart its sentiments before it too went cold and the threads of energy Jack's diadem were drawing on and connected to cut off entirely. It was more abrupt then it was rough, like cutting power to a music player.

Jack paid close attention to the responses, and as swiftly as he could without seeming rude or careless for their warnings and chill greetings, he pushed out his thought in his words: "I am Black Jack Finnegan of Terrene - a world far from yours. I have been stranded here, and do not wish or mean to disrupt the world's fabric any more than I already have done... I am in need of energy to repower my ship and so return to my own world. Would you be willing to co-operate with me and my equipment long enough to help me home?" His words rippled out from him, as if a vibration on a violin string, melodious and strong. Though he knew he spoke words of his own tongue, to his ears (and to Viira listening) they sounded only like song, and the song that Jack's spirit sang was fraught with sorrow, with great weight of conscience, with heartbreak and loss, a deep, tireless existence without end, rippling on and on despite the sands of time. His was a soul made of a stone that could not be eroded, a metal that could not be corrupted, and the depth of it vibrated beneath the notes of his actions, his worth and his destiny in a beautiful but haunting melody.

It was, perhaps, the song of his soul that drew the attentive one back more so then the request that came with the melody. Strings of light flared across Jack's vision, visible, empowered spider webs of whatever made up the Leyline's plane. They wafted in the air a moment, drifting in the slight air currents of the Ptarmigan’s room before they drew nearer and through Jack. As bright as they were, their insubstantial nature was surprising and when then drifted within in him, a voice very much akin to a youth's, though its feel belied its age, sounded in Jack's mind, "I said patience. Understood? We've noticed your presence from the moment you tore through us, it's unkind to give a stranger such an ache of the body, you understand." The being seemed to arch a brow, quirk a lip, "You're also very loud. Simmer down young one. Wait. Your ship makes port soon, yes? Meet me there. Look for the gawkers." A laugh and a wave and the threads faded, drifting into transparency once more, "And don't use that device again. You have any idea how irritating it is?"

"I haven't any idea no. In an attempt to contact you did I use it..." Jack replied humbly. "If you forbid its use here, I will heed your wishes, of course, but then how ought I contact you?" He replied, leaving all other feelings and responses to the warning and the admonishment for the silence. He was not about to apologize again, as his speaking to them this way seemed an irritation, it was best he not waste time of manners that served no purpose, to the point, quickly, and so quit its use as soon as he could. Though he did not mean to, the Diadem carried these sentiments with his words of reply, and even untrained as he was he caught the drift of them there, mingled in the notes, and knew that they, being more trained to this form of communication would hear them. Too much said, loud as he had been chastised, despite his efforts to say little.

"Use something native to this realm?" The voice returned quickly, bemused, "You utilize things not made to resonate with this world and so it does not fit. You're twisting the tendrils into knots every time you use one. You're a bright man, I'm sure you can figure it out. Alternatively, wait the time it takes to travel and speak to me in person. You're always so impatient..." The voice faded then and silence reined. Enough that Viira's words might break through whatever fog of vision Jack might be in. "Jack? Well? What's going on? Did it work?" Her head was tilted to the side, watchful and more than a little curious. "What's it like? To speak to them?"

Jack blinked at that. He had been accused of many things, sloth, laziness, carelessness, rashness, but impatience? Never, if anything he took too much time because he had it to burn. His efforts for haste here were to their benefit...were they not? Nevermind. He removed the Diadem and breathed deeply as the world bowed and wobbled and then returned to normal. He cleared his senses enough that he heard the last two questions and focused his stormy glance on her. "In person, it said. Am I to expect some manner of flesh and blood, or shall I simply look for a cluster of lights in port?" he felt the tingling roll through him, and the itch of pain as his Mark of Eight devoured the sensation in the effort to return him to his ever-stasis. "We must make to port, and soon, I think, so as not to keep your fleshy Leyline waiting." He glanced once more at the diadem and then stuffed it back into his pocket. "I am not to use anymore of my gadgets, I am told." He grumbled mostly to himself, but aloud. Not use them...not use them? Had they no idea that they were his charge, his purpose? No, likely not. Jack, Jack, here you are not Black Jack Finnegan, here you are simply Jonothan...skip even the Lord. You are nothing to them but a flea, one best shook off quickly, remember that.