Home Sweet Home (Open)
Eleanor Lockwood
Reathin
Home Sweet Home (Open) Jun 22, 2017 3:00:48 GMT
Post by Eleanor Lockwood on Jun 22, 2017 3:00:48 GMT
They say you never came home again, really. That it's always different than it was before, because you were different than you were before. Perhaps there was some truth in that. As Eleanor mounted a particularly vast dune and caught a proper view of Los Noches for the first time in...well over a year, at least...It seemed to hold at least partially true. She was different than before. Not quite different enough, of course, but that was part of the reason she'd returned. Hermitage produced a variety of insights that could not be acquired in a group, but it had its limits. The next stage would likely be something she couldn't do on her own. Besides which, she missed the people she'd met there. Leaving, even with the understanding that it wouldn't be forever, had taken more willpower than she'd expected. Like she'd come back and find it had all been an illusion. Finding comrades and friends in Heuco Mundo? It certainly sounded like a dream. Now, though, it was time to come home. Home, to see if it had changed alongside her.
The massive doors swung open with an enormous groaning as she made her way inside. Torches lit the walls, which was a good sign. In the distance, she could feel signatures. Arrancar, at least. So whatever had occurred in her absence, it wasn't abandoned. Some of her worse case scenario concerns began to recede in the back of her mind. In an environment like Heuco Mundo, no matter how secure you thought you were, no matter how much power you concentrated in one place (and these had seen incredible amounts of it, over numerous occupants), you could never be certain it was safe. Her quicksilver robes' quiet liquid sounds and her own light footsteps echoed through the corridors loudly, as if the building itself was waiting for something. Perhaps it was shocked. Perhaps it was angry. She pulled her hood over her head, as if to block out eyes that weren't there. Perhaps the melancholy atmosphere would fade once she found someone. If the building still held who she hoped it might, she had brought a thing or two that might be of interest.
Eleanor Lockwood © All rights reserved, 2015-2016.
Cagliostro Degli Antichi
Creationist
Home Sweet Home (Open) Jun 22, 2017 20:51:48 GMT
Post by Cagliostro Degli Antichi on Jun 22, 2017 20:51:48 GMT
Soft footsteps clicked across the floor. Audible life moved down the hall and doors opened. A soft frown came across Cagliostro's face as she heard the footsteps down the hall. She turned on her feet again, pulling up the hood of her own cloak as well. The sown cat ears pointing upright completely, held up by stiffened parts inside the cloak. Massive arms that dwarfed such a diminutive figure as her own were laced together with a deep purple and thrumming energy. These slowly took their resting position again. Spread to the side, palms raised towards the sky. Behind her were the massive monoliths once more. The black, gleaming pearls lodged in the middle sheening in the torchlight. An eerie glow to them. The flickering flames almost made them look like a watchful eye, protecting it's owner.
"Traveler," Cagliostro spoke once the other arrancar had entered the room. Her voice was soft, soothing. Yet inquiring. "What do you seek here?" She never had met Eleanor. Never known her, so it was only natural that the arrancar was a stray that had found it's way to Las Noches. Her presence was powerful, but not as powerful as Theo's. But she had no fear. She was amongst allies here. And even though the presence she had never sensed before felt capable of harming her, she doubted it would come to blows. "And what is your name?"
Cagliostro Degli Antichi © All rights reserved, 2015-2016.
Human Design (Kristian Tiihonen) - FRIP
Post by THEOCELESE on Jun 23, 2017 0:31:25 GMT
While the meeting of the two Arrancar happened above on the upper levels of Las Noches, Theocelese remained in his workstation tucked in the far end of the former owner's lab and monitoring stations. His own hobby, not to be crossed with beakers and needles, but rather a hammer and anvil. Theocelese's artful talents lie in the domain of crafting weapons and armor, and at the moment, that was his task, and had been his task for several days straight. With nothing but a few bottles containing various alcoholic fluids, a carton of cigarettes, and a barrel of water, the man locked himself away. The security system keeping everyone out, except for Seran, as he was one of the few with the proper authority to enter at his own leisure. What he was exactly working on remained a secret, some of it was important, but much of it was stock to replenish the ruined or looted training equipment. Weapons, shields, and armor of all variety meant to help any budding warrior in Las Noches hone their skills.
Even with closed and locked doors, the echoing sounds of the forgework crept through the vents and air shafts, the noise spreading like the roots of an ancient tree throughout Las Noches. Through a mix of concentration and an ongoing enjoyment of spirits, Theocelese hadn't quite cared to feel out the fortress for the familiar Reiatsu, and so, the man continued his work. Though news of Eleanor's return, when the time for that news to reach his ears, would be most welcome and one of the few things which would merit a temporary halt on his progress.
A new face in the halls. More than a face, actually. Eleanor had never seen an arrancar with limbs like that. The cat-eared figure (it took half a second to confirm that they were, in fact, not part of her body. The alchemist had met a fox-eared arrancar before, so one never knew) didn't have the crude half-sealed shape of a gillian, but Eleanor had yet to see higher forms with visibly non-human aspects. Curious. Better to hold off any questions for now though. Eleanor might be a centuries old ghost composed of souls involuntarily added to her own gestalt, but that was no excuse for rudeness. Especially here, in what had been (and might very well still be) the heart of what passed for Heuco Mundo's civilization. The guardian made no aggressive move, merely a gentle inquiry. Eleanor responded appropriately.
Eleanor Lockwood What followed was a light half-curtsy. It was tricky to do in robes without looking undignified. And while I haven't had the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance, this structure cannot say the same. She looked up at the darkened halls, smiling faintly as nostalgia crept its way into her tone. Though it has been some time, I once resided here. And, hopefully, will again. Given her abilities, she'd restructured some small part of Los Noches, reforming some of the grim structure to something a bit more cozy. Hollows, and by extension arrancar, were so often occupied by the grim realities of life outside these halls that they let it taint their "living" accomodations. This place was, and in its majority still was, as much fortress as palace...but poke around in the right places, and you could find rooms touched by her alchemical abilities, sculpted into the sorts of things one might find in an old English manor. Fine woods and polished materials, paintings and fireplaces...things you didn't find in the wastes. If one were to spend forever in one place, best it be made to look presentable. The size of this place made that a challenge, transmutations or not. She was eager to get started once more.
Purple and green eyes were hidden by the shade of the feline eared hood, her lips together as a thin line. Neither betraying hostility or a particular fondness for the other arrancar. It wasn't rude, nor was it immediately friendly or welcoming. She listened to the woman's words, nodding momentarily. So, she had been here before? Maybe she had also had an invite extended by Theocelese to her, while Cagliostro was still roaming the land as a mindless predator, that sought to evolve. Yet weakness compensated by another. Daubeny, the hollow they still were looking for. Her companion for over nine decades already. "Cagliostro," she returned her own name. Equivalent exchange. "Cagliostro Degli Antichi."
Her eyes moved down Eleanor's form. No weapons immediately visibly. So she was also released? Or was it a more concealable weapon? The thought kept in the back of her mind, Eleanor didn't seem immediately hostile or agressive. A mutual exchange between two strangers. "Resided here? Under Aizen's command, or alongside Theocelese?" Her words might be odd to any outsider. But if Eleanor knew Theo, she would exactly why it was stated this way. Simply because Theo never once lorded himself above others, those that followed him, followed his requests through respect. Hating the prospect of kings and lords by any means.
Post by Eleanor Lockwood on Jun 25, 2017 18:02:05 GMT
So, she knew Theocelese. That was a fine beginning, as it implied Cagliosto was the civil sort (although their present conversation, despite an understandable-in-heuco-mundo touch of cool reserve, was already evidence to that). It also meant that the older arrancar was likely still a resident himself. Potentially even currently present. The latter. I've never met Aizen, though last I was here, a few dark hints were given about his time here. I found Theo some time ago, while I was wandering the wastes as an adjuchas. He was playing music by a campfire. She thought back, a bittersweet look on her face alongside a small chuckle. She didn't enjoy thinking back to that time. Eleanor hated thinking of herself as a monster and, despite her personality being functionally the same as it was currently, her old shape had been a thing of horror. A necessary step of the sublimation process, but an unenjoyable one. Meeting others with wills and vision beyond mere mindless slaughter, though? That made the memory more comforting than bitter.
I stayed here for some time, but my arts occasionally required solitude to properly pursue, as frustrating as that can be at times. She let out a tiny trickle of energy, deliberately slowing it and softening it to ensure it couldn't be mistaken for an attack (although it would certainly be detectable from a significant range). With Citrinitas, she reshaped the air above her outstretched hand as she spoke. Nitrogen to sand to glass and back again, lazily drifting in front of her. Things change over time. That is the nature of time. Only perfection is exempt. As much as I love this place, there were things, now finished, that could only be done away from here. She let the transmutation stop once it returned to air, lowering her hand and smiling.
But we've only just met, and I'm already bothering you with philosophy. Forgive me.
She nods again. "Nor have I. But I have come across his lackeys at one point," a point at which she and Daubeny had to run for their lives. A challenge they couldn't overcome. "So forgive my distrust. I'm not particularly fond of them." A soft chuckle came from her regarding how her and Theocelese met. It wasn't all that out of character for the elder arrancar. What however didn't escape her was the small scowl forming and disappearing as soon as Eleanor also expressed her amusement at the scene. "Regrets?" She questioned, the purple energy softly hissing as the arms slowly swayed up and down behind her. Volatile, yet quite contained.
She glanced at the sand, feeling the pulsating reiatsu. Was she trying to get attention? She had heard the striking of hammer upon steel. The loud clunking of a certain arrancar busying himself with forging whatever items were needed or desired to be forged. Her own reiatsu flared momentarily as well. The soft rustling, the dissipating energy from the arms became but a moment more volatile as her own reiatsu was raised, before calming down again to the normal extent. "Time," she answered. Completely disregarding the apology. Because she did like these kinds of talk. "Time is an empty concept. A lable stuck on just another natural cause," she shrugged slowly. "Decay and progression, yes. And not even perfection is exempt. On the contrary. Perfection falls to mediocrity sooner rather than later."
Home Sweet Home (Open) Jul 6, 2017 0:34:48 GMT
Post by Eleanor Lockwood on Jul 6, 2017 0:34:48 GMT
A lack of regrets implies either a lack of memory, or a lack of years. I have both in abundance. Eleanor smiled a bit more genuinely at that. But not as such, in this case. A painful necessity is never entertaining to review, but it isn't something I would change, given the chance, so I suppose it can't be regret. Her debater raised her own reiatsu slightly, giving the alchemist a better sense of who she was dealing with. Spiritual auras weren't completely synonymous with a mind or personality, but it seemed quite consistent that one's attitudes colored one's emanated energies. she wasn't entirely certain what to make of this one. Distinctive, sizable, but...why did it make her think of emptiness? Despite the name, hollow energy didn't really feel "hollow", for the most part. This was something else, more personal. Whatever the reason, Cagliostro was apparently also a philosopher. Eleanor was of the opinion that there weren't enough of those around. Her own tone changed, introducing just the subtlest hint of playfulness.
Perhaps it is time that has meaning, and decay merely a label for its passage. Ignoring that all words are labels, of course. Language wasn't something you often thought of in alchemical terms, but the comparisons applied cleanly. Language was the external marker, the symbol to communicate something else. Objects and things, yes, but abstracts as well. Every operation Eleanor had ever, and likely would ever, perform was framed with the intention of discovering something on the inside. Something abstract that the human mind needed to quantify. Her tone shifted to something a bit more somber and serious, thought not disrespectful. And if something decays, it was never perfect in the first place. History is filled to the prim with examples of such optimistic miscalculations. There were other ways to argue that, she supposed. One could draw or build a mathematically perfect object, but it could still break down. That wasn't the sort of perfection she meant though, nor did most when they heard the term. To an alchemist, the pursuit of perfection wasn't even just sacred, it was the entire point of the art. It was understood that a given practitioner would be unlikely to ever reach it, but striving for the impossible needn't mean toiling in vain; it meant growth.
Besides, not being tied to a limited sum of years changed things quite a bit.
Home Sweet Home (Open) Jul 12, 2017 20:44:54 GMT
Post by Cagliostro Degli Antichi on Jul 12, 2017 20:44:54 GMT
"Hm, one can still be found to regret even necessities," she answered with a soft shake of her head. "A given, this only tends to make it more of a bitter sorrow," a melancholic chuckle. And perhaps a macabre outlook for someone that looked as young as she did. But Cagliostro, if her name didn't give it away yet, also had quite the amount of decades to her name. She smirked as a distinct jovial tone crept into the other arrancar's voice. And the arms seemed to reduce in their energetic seething, slowly lowering until the backs were resting against the ground, causing soft thrums and pulses of this paradoxically empty energy.
"Time.. Has no meaning, it's nothing but a construct designed by humanity to indicate the natural process of any and all energy. Decay, ruin, corrosion. These aren't labels either. But rather, the prime indicator of a reality in motion." She offered a slight smile. "Time is just.. Like the four horsemen christians profaned. An explanation for the unexplainable. Or for something they wish to be lied to about." She coughed momentarily, bringing up her hand in a fist politely. "That's the thing about perfection. It is never reached. Overstepped, yes. At one point. One will see perfection. And improve perfection."
She chuckled softly. "An interesting concept to discuss. But we can be standing here all day. First and foremost. Welcome home," she offered with a soft smile.
Home Sweet Home (Open) Jul 13, 2017 2:19:46 GMT
Post by Eleanor Lockwood on Jul 13, 2017 2:19:46 GMT
Your First Masterpiece Must Be Yourself
An interesting choice of words. "Profaned". You consider war, famine, conquest and death sacred? Or is it the act of explaining the unexplainable the sin? If that were the case, Cagliostro would not be the first Eleanor had met to hold that opinion. Personally, her own reaction was mixed. War and conquest, in the conventional sense, did a great deal of damage and distracted people from greater advances...yet also brought out hidden strength in those it didn't hurt. Death was a problem, but with the afterlife being what it was, it also brought power. Famine as a sacred concept baffled her. Slow degredation, and for what? But then, Cagliostro's tone when discussing decay made it clear she DID respect such things. Something to be discussed at length, perhaps. She smiled at the segue back into perfection.
Never reached is interesting, as it is so often followed by a quiet "yet". An obscured path is no less a path, a long path no less a finite one. Humans once thought the idea of flying a madman's dream at best, yet I could step on a plane and be home in London in hours, if I so chose. "Could" being the operative. With Eleanor's record, she was half-certain it would fall from the sky. Not because she distrusted the engineering itself so much as her incredibly bad luck with any vehicle whose moving parts exceeded a horse-drawn wheel. And if it were overstepped, it was never perfect in the first place, merely "the best we could do", not "the best that can ever be done". That's what perfect means, if one were being direct. While Eleanor didn't agree with Cagliostro's particular vision of the nature of perfection, the underlying principal, that of constant advancement, appealed greatly. If Eleanor was right, that sort of striving would be needed regardless. And if she was wrong, it was still better to be better. Whatever the case, the actual welcome was, itself, a welcome thing to hear. The smile was returned, warmly.
You are most kind. I... A noise interrupted her, a loud, metal-on-metal ringing from the floors below had finally managed to pierce into their hallway. A particularly intense string caught Eleanor's attention sharply and she sealed her eyes to focus entirely on sound and the spiritual energies nearby. Most of that was Cagliostro, of course, but as she sharpened her attention, she found the energy that was, presumably, making the sound. A smile followed as the alchemist opened her eyes once more.
If you wouldn't mind, there is someone else I'd like to meet before settling in. Would you mind if we went downstairs for a short while? Afterwards, it's been ages since I had a proper discussion with tea, if you'd like to continue. Lest the topic decay, so to speak.
OOC NOTE: Theo mentioned in the cbox that it's fine to just move over to that, so if you go downstairs, just assume I follow
"It is how such is explained to the common folk seeking an explanation. For something that can either not be explained, or very easily be explained." She shrugged softly. Before frowning, arching an eyebrow. "Lon-..Don?" She questioned. "Plane?" It seemed she wasn't really properly explained on the current world and it's habits, uses and here applicable, modes of transport. It was puzzling even the practicality Theocelese showed her with these handheld communication devices, these 'cellphones'. But she shook her head. "So, the dream of a man flying was fulfilled. And it was not considered perfect then?" She answered with a soft smile, before shaking her head. Time to stop now.
"I assume it being Theo whom you wish to meet?" She questioned with a gentle smile, turning on her feet. "I don't mind at all, please, allow me to escort you, Lady Lockwood." She offered, before moving up to a massive door. The two arms moving up to push it open, leading to a massive flight of stairs downwards, which she traversed. And each step down caused the smacking of metal on metal to reverb louder and louder. Drawing near to Theo's forge.
As they arrived, another door obstructed them. And once again those massive arms moved up, to slam the doors open. "Theo!" Her voice chirped in between two swings. "Sorry to disturb you, but we have a guest. One you'd love to see."
{OOC}
Fuckin' hell 8 days.
Last Edit: Jul 21, 2017 20:40:09 GMT by Cagliostro Degli Antichi