mythmaking | Once upon a time...

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Once upon a time...

[ For the residents of Märchenstraße, and all the land surrounding it, the eighth of December was a day to look forward to. Looking at it from an outside perspective, strangers and travelers could easily assume it to be a holiday. At the very least, a day for a festival, if a modest one. A day that shopkeeps spent all morning preparing for, that all manner of creatures spent days traveling to the city to witness. They'd heard the talk that passed around, the rumors from those still left. But would it work? No one knew for sure, no matter how confident the stories seemed to be. But hope was very quickly becoming all they had left.

They had decorated the whole town. Streamers, banners, wreathes and garland made of autumn flowers, plus whatever the Fairy Godmother had cooked up. Oh, she was just giddy. No skepticism could be spoken around her, not if you wanted to escape the wrath of her wand! Rumor had it that she had caught wind of a few piglets squealing about the likelihood that their magic would fail, and that they were subsequently transformed into the band of musicians who could be found performing in the park.

Well, at least the music was festive.

Of course, the decorations weren't for the newcomers alone. Autumn was coming to a close in just a few weeks, and Old Man Winter would take the reigns like he did every year, and their weather would turn cold and harsh. The chill was already there, cool and biting when the wind picked up speed. Lady Autumn was much preferred to the citizens of the city with her gentle nature, even if she failed to show up, finishing her work in the orchards instead. That was what they liked about her.

It was mid-morning when Father Time was found outside of his tower, checking one of the numerous pocket watches he kept on his person. "Unnecessary, but comfortable," he called them, and closed the watch again. It was twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and where empty space had been just seconds before, now they were. Sitting on benches, lying in flower patches, scattered about the city and outside of the gates in peaceful slumber. They would awaken to the bells of the clock tower. Some, to many friendly and relieved faces all around them, some to grateful ones carrying gifts of food and clothing and magic, and some to fearful, cautious faces. Regardless of how the town treated them, they would awaken to a celebration of their arrival, and choices to be made, and the books. Each and every one. ]

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[He sees the other newcomer tense, though he's not entirely sure why. Though if he's jumpy, Mogget can't blame him: he's wary himself too and ready to disappear at any moment should anything unpleasant occur.]

These people? [He sweeps a hand around at the activity going on around them.] They all seem to have been expecting us. I've seen no one admit responsibility.

It would take a tremendous amount of power and I only know of four people who would be capable of something like this. Do you have any idea where we are? What country?

[If he can figure out where he is, that would be the easiest way to figure out who to blame and how to get home. It isn't lost on him that this man seems to have been brought here the same way that he was, so he counts him tentatively as an ally for now, but his hands remain on his daggers. No sense in being careless.]

[He shakes his head.] Only that I must be far from home. I do not recognize this place at all.

[No Charter, no Great Stones. But this is not Ancelstierre or any of the non-magical countries either; the air is full of magic.]

Where are you from? If anything, we can figure out where we aren't. It's clearly not anywhere I've ever traveled, and I've seen much of the world.

[Another group of children run up, this time making silly faces at him. They seem quite disappointed when they only get a look of bewilderment in return. This time, there's a muttering about "Biancabella." He's never heard the name before, but somehow he can tell they're talking about him.]

And do they do that to you? They were trying to get at my hair when I woke up.

[Distracted by the children, he doesn't answer at first. He grimaces at the sight of them.]

No. But several of the brats are would-be thieves.

[He hisses on the word "thieves" - an unnatural sound for a man to make - directing a venomous look at one of the urchins trying to sidle up behind him. The child takes the hint and runs off, Mogget tightening his hold on his bag. Mogget starts walking again - he really would like to find somewhere quiet, away from all these people. He glances back at Ja'far.]

I come from the Old Kingdom.

[As he has nowhere else to go, Ja'far follows. Maybe this man is a bit more suspicious than he first thought, but he's quite capable of defending himself, household vessel or not.]

The Old Kingdom? [...not very specific.] I'm not sure I've heard of it, or at least not by that name. I'm from Sindria, myself.

[That's not technically true, but it's the only country that matters to him. He also chooses to omit the fact that he's a high-ranking official in the Sindrian government. Perhaps the official of highest rank, considering how much of his king's work ends up on his desk.]

Edited 2013-12-08 23:49 (UTC)

I've never heard of that either. Strange. Have you heard of Ancelstierre?

[He tries a side street but it has no shortage of people. Perhaps they need to reach the outskirts to find somewhere that isn't busy.]

[He's immediately dumbfounded. Hasn't heard of Sindria? Who hasn't heard of Sindria? Even if you weren't the sort to receive a formal education, there was still no escaping Sin's writings and all the legends that surrounded him. Of course, he's never heard of Ancelstierre, either. Perhaps this is more than a case of one of the Magi causing trouble. This is beyond anything that should be possible.]

I haven't. And this place is strange to both of us, so whatever has brought us here seems to have reached beyond the boundaries of worlds, if such a thing can be done. You say the children here are trying to steal something from you, but what? I woke up with nothing but the clothes on my back.

[At this point, he's grasping at anything that might be a clue.]

[For what it's worth, Mogget agrees with this theory. They've gone beyond the boundaries of worlds. Beyond the influence of the Abhorsen and the Charter. The possibilities are... interesting.

He glances at Ja'far.]

So, you didn't wake up with an empty book?

Ah, that. [To be honest, he'd half-forgotten it.] But it's not mine, that I'm sure of. I'd recognize one of my own books.

[The children hadn't shown any interest in it, either. They'd had ample chance to take it while he was asleep by the tree.]

Are you saying that you have one as well and that's what they're after? They didn't touch mine.

Who knows? This entire situation remains mysterious.

[He's read the name inscribed on his journal. "Genie of the Lamp." That's the name the townspeople call him, which means that although the lamp may look like a worthless trinket, he suspects there's far more to it than that. There's a magical pull he doesn't like.

So Mogget is quite sure that if the children are after anything, they're after the lamp, but he's also reluctant to disclose its existence to anyone else.]

When I awoke, I found the book and quill with me. A gift, I suppose.

Not much of one.

[He can't help but grumble a bit. One empty book and a quill don't make up for the piles and piles of scrolls left behind back on his desk. He pulls the book out and looks at it, for the first time noticing the name inscribed on it. Somehow, he's not surprised that it's something he's already heard here.]

"Biancabella." This is what those children were calling me...

So you see. It belongs to you.

[So far, the story matches up.]

What does yours say? What do they call you?

[The name "Biancabella" sounds vaguely like it could be from Reim. He'd like to have something to check it against.]

[There's a moment of hesitation.]

Genie. Not my true name; I do not know what it means.

[Ja'far does. The word might sound slightly different, but somehow he recognizes it.]

"Genie?" as in "djinn?!" But you aren't! I've never seen a djinn outside a dungeon that wasn't bound to a metal vessel in the hands of a dungeon conqueror. I don't think such a thing is possible.

[Now it's all the more worrisome that Baal's power seems to have left his weapons.]

[Oh. Oh. This is all starting to sound unfortunately plausible... and familiar. A metal vessel... like a lamp? Mogget throws him a sharp look.]

Djinn? I've heard of neither - what does it mean?

[His tone is snappish. He doesn't like where this is going at all.]

Djinn are powerful magical beings that slumber within the dungeons that the Magi raised across the land. If someone makes their way to the inner chamber, the djinn may pronounce them worthy and bind themselves to them. They grant great power to those who bear their vessels and to their most loyal followers as well. My king has conquered seven dungeons, so I have seen many djinn. I should be able to recognize one by now and you're nothing like any I've seen.

[It's the short version, certainly, but he's not a magician or a dungeon conqueror himself, so many of the technicalities escape him. He just knows what he's seen at Sin's side.]

[He considers this. He doesn't like it.]

That is your world. What is true there may not be true here. The name they call me is different.

Still, out of curiosity, what are these vessels you speak of?

I can only tell you what I know and hope it can be of some use.

[He sighs. It's little help, he knows, but anything that might help someone make sense of things is worthwhile.]

When a djinn chooses a master, they bind themselves to something their master carries. Many choose weapons of some sort, but I've also seen them bound to jewelry, flutes...I suppose it depends on what metal items their master carries.

[Well, if that's how it works, it shouldn't be a problem. He'd never willingly choose a master. The fact that the lamp already exists and seems to have his name on it (why else would he be "of the Lamp"?) is concerning, however. Perhaps it's meant for the Abhorsen. But if Sabriel was here, he would know. He'd have to know.]

If that is indeed who I am supposed to be, the people here will find themselves sorely disappointed.

I think they're disappointed in me already. I can at least tell you what I know of djinn. "Biancabella" sounds like it might be a name, but it means nothing to me.

[All he knows is that seems like people have been trying to make him laugh or pull his hair for some reason.]

I'm afraid it means nothing to me either.

[He pauses, adjusting the bag over his shoulder.]

Well, I think perhaps I shall go this way. [He indicates a different direction to their current path. Mogget is keen now to hide away the lamp, and he'll need to do that on his own.] What was your real name? I assume not Biancabella...

[Ja'far makes a face.]

Certainly not. My name is Ja'far. Would you tell me yours?

[It can't hurt to start keeping track of all the people he meets here.]

Mine is... [A strange look comes over him. His name. He can say it. There is no Charter here, no corruption strangling his words. But can he bear his true name without his true form?] I have had many names. The name I was using... am using, at present, is Mogget. It will do for now. Well met, Ja'far. Perhaps we'll meet again.

[He inclines his head, an acknowledgement of the help Ja'far has offered him, and turns to leave.]

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under_the_wire - 2013-12-09 18:53 (UTC) - Expand

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