#cleonice.threads

Nike doesn’t want to say that she is lost, but as the sun begins its descent towards dusk she has to admit that she is. Aurea is impressively big for a city-state, and a map had not been made readily available for her when she had arrived. She understood why — suspicions, concerns, and well, she is meant to go to most places with a guide — but in moments like this, she thinks she might have to start drawing one herself. She had only meant to make a quick trip to the temple of Sunfyre located in the small-folk district, since she had liked the atmosphere and she had wanted to pray to the Lady of Eternal Flame. It was an easy enough journey, and one she had done a handful times by now, as she helped the Domerian Estate servants carry leftovers every time she had the opportunity to ask Iskander to do as much. 

Easy enough that she had been allowed to leave the estate unsupervised — and she doesn’t know if it means they are loosening their monitoring or they are monitoring her more subtly, but she needs to find out— . In all fairness, she had done an excellent job at getting to the temple itself. The problem had come when she had begun her trek back to the estate. Nike had seen a quaint little bookshop a few streets away from her path, and wandered off, only to accidentally exit it through a different point than she entered. She hadn’t even realized as much until she had been far away enough that she didn’t know how to return to the bookshop nor the temple. 

Splendid. 

“Well, isn’t this fantastic,” she sighs, as she slows to a stop in the mouth of an alley to avoid interrupting the pedestrian traffic. Tugging to a loose tress of her hair, she purses her lips and glances around the street. It looks a little bit like what she had glimpsed on her way from the docks to the Domerian Estate, but she couldn’t be entirely sure. And she thinks that asking someone for directions would be rather stupid, considering it would reveal her as someone with connections with a rather rich magister family. She isn’t necessarily worried about it becoming dangerous for her, but it would be rather difficult to explain why she had maimed or killed an Aurean citizen to the authorities, if they did try to attack. The best option was, well— . “I wonder where I can get a map of the city? I need to get back before nighttime.”

With a sponsorship to teach her craft to the magisterium came a great number of requirements. Aurea is an inherently paranoid system, born from excluding all those that cannot afford to travel into the city, and then excluding those that can but cannot afford to live properly after said act. It only makes sense that they desire to keep a very in depth record of all those they invite into their most noble and ancient households, in hopes of preventing any sort of incidents. Incidents just like the one she is hoping to cause by finding more of the creation of the barrier and its replicability. After all, the main draw of Aurea it’s its safety, the luxury inherent to their lifestyle following close after. 

If any other nation were to raise similar barriers, the wave of refugees lapping at Aurea’s shores would wane. And while most would see this as a welcome change, the truth is simple: refugees provide cheap labor. Desperate as they are to survive in a city that does not fully welcome them, they are more than willing to subject themselves to the most dangerous jobs for the least pay, all the hopes of surviving another day. If the flow of refugees to Aurea were to slow… Well, it would not destroy the city entirely, but it would certainly change aspects of it. 

Cleonice is sure someone in the magisterium must at least be tangentially aware of the fact. Hedonist they all may be, but she does not think they are stupid. It would be a disservice to both their intelligences to think as much, so she doesn’t. Instead, she moves carefully, playing the role of visiting scholar with a certain level of discreetness, making herself look eager to enjoy Aurea’s culture and conversation without other magi, but stopping just short of prying too deeply. Or at least too short of looking like she is prying too deeply. She is, of course, but her every move is calculated so she simply cannot afford to show it. 

Exiting the small office where she had spent the last few hours filling forms to excuse her existence within Aurea’s walls, Nike keeps her hands clasped together in front of her, her thumb brushing over one of the many rings decorating her fingers, spinning the metal around absently as she looks around the courthouse’s foyer. She is still new enough to the city that she has been asked to always be escorted from one place to another, as a response to the last time she tried to reach the Domerian Estate alone and ended up lost, yet she thinks she has a few hours before one of the servants of the Estate comes fetch her to take her back. 

Nike’s eyes wander the room as she wonders what to do with her time, only for her entire being to stand still as her eyes fall upon a rather familiar figure. 

Oh. Curious and curiouser, she would have thought she would not be docking at Aurea’s ports anytime soon. 

Clearing her suddenly too dry throat, Nike allows the deceptively calm smile to bloom on her face. Only someone who has spent enough time with her would identify the edge of smugness presented within. 

Luckily, she is about to talk to someone who does have ample experience with her mild mannerisms and what she hides behind her smiles. 

“Var Gurgaes,” she croons smoothly, moving to stand by the pirates side, bending low just enough so that she is whispering in her ear, her smile widening into a smirk as she does. “What an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise. Miss me already?”

The first invitation to visit an estate other than the Domerian’s comes to her rather— Unordinarily. It goes beyond the clear effort put into the selection of the paper, the ink, the scent, the wax, and the wording of the letter containing the invitation. Although, she must admit, she is rather curious about the individual who would craft an invitation to a complete stranger beginning with language as colorful as what she found in the letter itself (...The jasmines are in full bloom and made me think of you, let me extend an invitation into my private garden for the pleasure of welcoming you into the city…). It presents a rather lurid image, after all, and it speaks of the person writing the invitation and about how they seem to have a fondness for flowery language. 

Yet for all that the letter is elaborate in a way she hadn’t seen even back when her family had still considered themselves nobility and not refugees, it is not the most unordinary aspect of the message. 

It is the method of delivery. 

Now, Nike is not a stranger to the use of magic to deliver a message. Rather, she is very familiar with it. She used her own methods to communicate with her family whenever she stayed at the Llyr academy for long stretches of time, and students at the academy tended to use it to communicate with each other as well. The use of magic for communication is not in itself odd. It is something that can be used as a show of power as easily as it can be considered mundane. What turns the method of delivery for this specific letter odd is that it is delivered by an animal, and one that is not a familiar to boot. 

Cleonice thanks her lucky stars that she had seen the snake carrying the letter to her door a few seconds before Krat did, since it had given her a few extra seconds to dive forward and cup the creature on her hands before standing up and bringing it out of her familiar’s reach. Instinct, you see, still applies for familiars, and Krat has the particular tendency to want to chew on anything he deems food when he first lays his eyes on it. It’s a reactionary impulse and the margay can control himself once the first few seconds pass, but one she has to be keenly aware of for occasions such as this one.

Once the danger passes, Nike sighs in relief and reaches for the letter as the snake wraps around her wrist. And that is how she receives an invitation for tea from Lord Baeksa Kwon. Not necessarily outside her expectations, even if it is rather odd to draw the eyes from the House of Kwon so early into her stay. After all, even in the Isle of Llyr they hear about the magisters of Aurea, and the academy has always been interested in other scholars. She knows less about Lord Baeksa Kwon himself, but she supposes that is the sort of thing she will only discover at first meeting. 

Cleonice takes great pains to ensure she is dressed appropriately for the event, deciding to go for a dalmaticas, esoforions and a loros combination of a dark blue color rather than her usual robes. The detailing is done in a glittering inky color, with streaks of gold found throughout, as it is one of the dalmaticas she had embroidered herself once she had figured out how to ensure luminary script could be activated through embroidery. It seems like a good bait to set to draw the curiosity of a scholarly house, and she hopes the lord bites, because a connection to a scholarly house is exactly what she needs. The Kwon are more likely to have access to information regarding the barrier than other houses.

Arriving at the Kwon Estate on time, Nike examines her surroundings with veiled curiosity as she is led towards Lord Baeksa by one of the servants. The differences and similarities with the Domerian Estate are stark, and she wonders if they are a matter of preference, taste, or simply that the Domerian seem to appreciate living lavishly. With that thought in mind, she is led to where Lord Baeksa awaits her, and she falls into a curtsy to pay the proper respects before raising and offering him a gentle smile. 

“My thanks for the invitation,” she says. “I thought the method of delivery was rather charming.”

As much as she knows that she has to grow a tolerance for excess if she is to survive her stay with Aurea’s upper class, Nike is also only capable of so much. Letting the overfilled table of brunch foods go to waste, all because Iskander Domerian did not know which side of the estate they would be in when it became time to eat? That is not the sort of thing she can let go unquestioned, especially when she still recalls the countless less fortunate refugees that she had passed as she had been escorted to the Domerian Estate. Nike is lucky beyond measure, for she is not in Aurea because she lost a home. The Isle of Llyr still stands, and she will not allow it to fall. 

Still, even if the worst were to come, she likely would be able to get a proper sponsor within Aurea based on her skills alone. Perhaps it’s a tad arrogant of her, but she is confident in her craft. 

She can be, because she doesn’t have the weight of not knowing where one’s next meal will come from hanging over her head. Many others cannot afford such arrogance, and therein is where the concern is born. Surprisingly, asking Iskander if she can gather their meal’s leftovers and hand them out at the Temple of Sunfyre goes rather well—  Even if she does grow a tad concerned about Iskander’s knowledge when it comes to anything not related to his expertise. It was equally endearing to know that he thought the kitchen simply kept the leftovers tucked away to reuse at a later date, as it was concerning. Nike has a fair share of questions for Iskander about how he sees the world, but she also is very aware that this is not her gladiator nor her arena so she really shouldn’t intervene.

And as long as Iskander says it is alright to hand the food out, she doesn’t think she will say anything to make him decide otherwise. It is also nice to get an excuse to leave the estate so early into her visit, as she suspects that she is being heavily monitored and any other reason could raise flags. 

In all honesty, she doesn’t think she is even needed, considering how efficiently the Domerian household servants had organized once the permission was granted, but she is still happy to help direct people towards the growing line leading to where the servants are handing out food. 

Slowly but steadily, the number of people visiting her classroom was increasing. It could still be considered to be a trickle, but said trickle far surpassed her expectations, all things considering. A society as isolated and imperious as Aurea is bound to view the arrival of a magi from another nation to be suspicious at best, even if she had been invited by Iskander Domerian in the first place. She is still a stranger in a stranger’s land, and only time will erode away at the friction. Time, or proving once and for all that her focus in luminary scripting makes her far more useful than they suspected in the first place. Power is quite a telling thing, after all, and with the correct spells, Nike can make herself quite the armament. 

She is unlikely to use that plan anytime soon, though, since it would show too much of her hand, and she would rather avoid that. Yeah, it is known she excels at luminary script, and she will not lie about the extent of her skills if asked, but people always tend to underestimate the abilities of outsiders. Especially when it is a place like Aurea, which shines brightly in safety while the rest of the world dies at the hands of the Forsaken. 

Many of the magi and citizens of Aurea simply cannot comprehend the horrors of what happens beyond their walls or the strength that it takes to even survive them, and thus their exposure to outsiders is primarily seen in the shape of refugees. And while some of them do reach Aurea with wealth, the bitter truth is that most do not. 

Lips pressed in thought, she uses graphite to attach a few runes to the current design she is working on, eyes narrowed in focus as she considers the possible chain and effect of altering the basic illumination spell by adding a sign to represent air and water. A fairly innocuous work at first glance considering she just wants to see if she can create images with the illuminations, but it would also serve as a good means to misdirect attention if there is a time that called for it. 

It’s a simple exercise on ingenuity, finding practical uses for unpractical spells. And one, Nike thinks, all magi should do to keep themselves sharp. 

Her focus on her work is razor sharp, so she almost doesn’t hear the sound of the door to her classroom opening. Almost. She had asked permission to add a chiming spell to the top of the doorstill, so that it rang any time anyone crossed its threshold. It was a little disconcerting when the servants came into the room to clean, but she much preferred to be told  of visitors than not.