nexus_crossings | (no subject)

One of the Nexus' many features is, surprising no one, a portal. It's a portal with a black center and for the longest time, it's pulsated with swirling fingers of white light. It's fairly nondescript as portals go, and while the air around it tingles, any attempts to go through the portal simply lead… well, to the back side of the portal.

Today, it hums.

Today a wave of not-quite purple washes through the swirling arms, and the hole opens up to a library.

A library with a tiefling inside it, who pokes his head through, looks around for a moment, then withdraws.

A few minutes, then an hour passes as the portal goes dormant once more, no sign of the tiefling or his library visible through the center. Time ticks by, minutes and hours passing by before finally, the portal sparks once more.

This time, when it opens, the center of the portal is reinforced by a golden metal frame, and the tiefling comes through with a satchel laden with books and scrolls, dragging a table full of mechanical and alchemical contractions behind him. There's a giddiness to his movement and he grunts and curses the table where he wants it, even when he has to frantically rescue some of the instruments from falling. Then, once everything is settled exactly how he likes it, the real fun begins.

At least for the tiefling.

He spends a few moments recording readings from the array of instruments and meters, muttering excitedly to himself before plopping on the ground and digging through his satchel. Amidst the scrolls and books, he finds one of the many pamphlets explaining the Nexus and its rules. Regarding it with narrowed eyes, he pulls out an hourglass and sets it aside, returning his focus to his research.

The hourglass is flipped three times before the tiefling looks up from his work, tail swishing on the ground behind him, and he poses his questions.

"Has anyone here determined what happens if you don't ask a question? How long can you go without asking a question before something happens? Why is a question required? How poignant must the question be to be considered acceptable? Is a simple "How are you?" enough, or must it be philosophically intriguing?"

There's a pause in the tiefling's barrage as he scrunches his nose, scowling deeply at nothing. Then he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and relaxes, adding on his final question. "I suppose I might as well ask if anyone has seen a man named Lorroakan, by any chance? Human, red hair, thinks very highly of himself, and has a temper that Devil's would envy."

((Hello, I am new. I know it's been quiet but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? So here I am. Venturing.))

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"We're known as wizards on Toril," Rolan says with a bow of his head and a flourish of his hand. "I'm far from being a master, but I have a very good headstart for someone of my age, and I am nothing if not a prodigy."

"As for being the first to try..." He shrugs, an absent flick of his tail accompanying the motion. "That doesn't matter to me. What's important is that I'm the first from my realm, and that I am the one making the discoveries. It's just more fun that way."

He flashes a toothy smile. "And if I never learn all there is to learn about the Nexus? Well, then I'll never run out of questions to ask, will I?"

"Wizard," they repeat in a murmur. An unfamiliar word to their ear, but since coming here they've made an effort to memorize the things other people prefer to be called. Both out of basic respect, and because the Orokin don't get a say in what people are titled anymore.

Their gaze is drawn to Rolan's tail when it twitches, a barely restrained grin of childish amusement on their face. It's so expressive, like a kavat or a kubrow! They don't think he'd appreciate the comparison though. He is a person after all.

A person who is saying things they should probably be responding to, at that. "Probably not," they agree. "This place is infinite." A faint frown flickers across their face as they look up at him. "That guy you were asking about? You might never find him, but infinity means the odds are pretty much impossible he's not here somewhere."

Rolan can't help but notice Ayatan looking at his tail, and it flicks one last time before going completely still, embarrassment creeping up the tiefling's already rosy cheeks. He could control it, of course - it was prehensile - however, the subconscious mind often exerted far more control than the conscious mind did.

Ahem.

Anyway.

"I know, and I'm rather hoping that I don't," Rolan mumbles, his expression dropping into that of a scowl. "He was not a good man, and I do not relish the thought of some alternate version of him entering my reality through my portal."

He looks back at the portal with a huff, his brow furrowing as a hand curls over his chin. "You... don't know of that ever happening, do you?

Ayatan regards him with a seriousness that sits strangely on their youthful face. "People go through each others' doors all the time. I've seen some people put guards on theirs, or set up sensors that tell them if someone goes through. I don't know if you can lock them."

Probably not, from what they've seen around here. But one never says never.

"Zurgen," Rolan swears, looking away as his shoulders reflexively hunch around his ears defensively. A small sliver of panic slices through him, but he stomps it down quick; he'd accepted the abuse Lorroakan doled out before because he thought it was what he had to do. He knew better now, and he knew - he knew! - that he was capable of taken the other wizard on by himself. Hells, he hadn't even needed magic to finish the bastard off! All it had took in the end was one solid push off the side of the tower...

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rolan forces himself to relax and think things through logically. "Fine. This is fine. I can deactivate the portal when it's not in use, and if the others are anything like the Lorroakan I knew, then it's unlikely that they'll know how to reactivate it. I can work with this."

"Thank you," he adds, returning his attention to Ayatan and bowing his head in deference. "Your input has been very helpful and has given me much to think about."

He's taking this remarkably well, in Ayatan's opinion. When they'd first realized Ballas could turn up at any moment, it had taken weeks for Umbra to let them anywhere near the Nexus, and they hadn't been much inclined to argue. Antiviolence field or no, the armor is their compromise, just in case. They're hardly helpless, but they are a child, and an adult Orokin with the kind of track record Ballas has... well. Safer is always better.

They nod, meeting Rolan's eyes. "You're welcome. For what it's worth, I hope whoever he is, he never finds you."