Dome Sweet Dome

[tongueamok]

Who: Carlisle Longinmouth (tongueamok), OPEN
What: It's a log for the folks who expressed interest in Carlisle's latest gardening project! In short, he made a stupid dome of magic to protect the only two gardens he cares about, and is feeling very good about himself. Make him regret his hubris.
Where: Park
When: November 21st - early December
Warnings: Nothing yet! Heads up for anyone who has met him, but hasn't seen him in the past month: he's a lot more colorful now.


As the days without the gods add up and the city grows colder without power, there may be less and less people braving the outdoors. However, any of those who happen to wander in the vicinity of the park -- or what remains of it, as most of the trees have been removed -- might notice something odd: there are two, translucent domes covering a portion of it, their walls illuminated with a magical energy. Upon closer inspection, one can see the vague shapes of archways and leaves behind these glowing, blue barriers; they're connected to the ground via a stone curb, so any visitors might want to watch their step.

But should someone trip and fall into either dome, they'll find the walls won't keep them out -- they'll slip right through with only a tingling sensation, much like the shock of static, to accompany their passage, the magic wall remaining whole behind them. Within one dome is the memorial park, its various markers and tributes to those who have disappeared from Hadriel protected from the elements beyond the barrier; within the other is a garden, its rows of shrubs, vines, and greenery kept at a comfortable temperature within the magical ward.

And on most days, near the cottage at the center of said garden, one may find the man who conjured these domes, Carlisle Longinmouth. Sometimes, he's pruning away at the twitching, ivy-like vines of his coilers, tossing the trimmings to his pet, Rabbit. At other times, he's knelt near the barrier himself, inspecting the integrity of his magical walls. On more than one occasion, he may be over near a patch of dirt walled off with stones, within it the stalks of still-growing barley. Wherever he may be, there is one constant: he's generally not thrilled to find he has company.

Comments

[whip_poor_will]

Where most will be more inclined to seek comfort in warmth, Ravine has no need for such things. She goes where she pleases and whatever interests her, regardless of its temperature. While the shapes under the ice of the lake has been a curious subject of curiosity, she is drawn elsewhere.

Such as the nostalgic field of young barley sprouting underneath the dome. When Carlisle next inspects his work, he'll find the dark and gangly woman crouching within the field, her gloved hands ghosting through the bristles. Although her touch does not make contact, phasing through solid material for now, she somehow carries a rather similar scent to the growing grain despite not being of physical body.

She does not seem surprised by this little reminder of an old, long gone life; merely morose and inquisitive.

"At least these should survive the current clime just fine," Ravine comments, not looking to Carlisle when she speaks; but her own eyes are that familiar golden hue instead of the usual soft brown.

[tongueamok]

Ravine almost startles Carlisle as he wanders over to his patch of barley, the area just long and wide enough to hide a person if they lied within it -- it was all he could get from the seeds he found, and he was delighted it grew at all. Though he wasn't expecting her, he manages to stifle his immediate surprise, stiffening only for a second as he spots her suddenly among his little field.

"Ah, Miss- Miss Ravine," he greets sheepishly. Given she played a major role in his continued existence, he isn't about to ask her to leave his plants alone, especially when she talks about their potential survival. "Are you familiar with these?"

[whip_poor_will]

Let's be real, Ravine startles most people when she shows up anywhere. Carlisle most of all.

There is something serene about her right now, however, as her hands do not exactly touch the blades of barley.

"Quite," she hums. "They used to hold a great significance in a city I used to live in. There would be a spring festival called 'Akitu' every year... It would last for twelve days. That isn't to say that the people there worshipped barley for a fortnight; it simply played a significant role."

How is she to explain this, though? Oh well.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle raises an eyebrow, and with it curls the corner of his mouth. "This- this is from your world, then? What did you say it is? Is barley the name, or is that a god?"

It might seem like a silly question to ask, but given the plethora of gods in Carlisle's world and his affinity for them, he cannot help but wonder.

[whip_poor_will]

Given the superfluity of deities that Ravine knows of that has plagued history, it is not as silly as Carlisle would think. She gives him a warm smile.

"The name. The festival itself celebrated Marduk, the patron god of Babylon."

A particular favorite of the Nebuchadnezzar she knew as the human diviner, Yehudit.

[tongueamok]

That is a lot of names. Carlisle nods, holding up a finger — one moment — before darting away. He returns less than a minute later with his journal, flipping it to a specific page before uncapping his pen. Upon it, he's already sketched out some illustrations of the new plant -- first its seed, then the initial sprouts, and another drawing for where it is now, leaving the lower corner blank for an addition once it is fully grown.

"Barrrrley," he murmurs to himself, scribbling down the name. His pen darts to the adjacent page to note the other details. "Now this Marduk character -- what are they a god of? Did they choose this Babylon, or did Babylon choose them?"

[whip_poor_will]

Time is only a blink to Ravine, as Carlisle returns as quickly as he had left. Her smile widens as he speaks the words in his own foreign inflection and expresses curiosity in the religion of the people who had raised her. While raised in the Kingdom of Judah, Yehudit had spent more years in the service of Nebuchadnezzar, serving a purpose she would not have found on the city streets.

She could easily shatter the illusion Carlisle holds of those people's cult beliefs and explain how there was no Marduk. At least, not in the way that scripture carried on. It's important to the priest, though. And for a moment, she is inclined to humor him. If not for a little while.

"He governed the forces of harvest, water, judgment, and sorcery. To the people of those lands, the gods were only as powerful as the cities in which they are worshipped -- so when Babylon grew from the small state to a thriving and powerful city, Marduk was hailed as a supreme god of the southern state."

It doesn't entirely answer Carlisle's query, but it answers enough.

[tongueamok]

It's apparently a good enough answer for Carlisle, who scrawls several words across the page as Ravine explains. "Heh. How interesting it is that deities could derive power from those who worship them, gathering strength as their numbers grew. It's... a bit like here, I suppose."

And there goes that hint of a smile he had, uncertainty weighing on his brow. "They aren't gods here, but the comparison is not without merit. Some worlds, however -- I wonder if there are worlds without gods. What would they be like?"

[whip_poor_will]

"Yes, I suppose it is..."

Although Ravine never did held the same abhorrence towards the gods of this place, she is remiss to truly acknowledge their godhood status. It is merely simpler to identify with a name in mind than to label them as the 'Other', accurate that it may be.

She cants her head at Carlisle's musing. "There are plenty of godless worlds out there, or places in which their deities do not play a direct role in the lives of their followers."

The 'gods' of her world may as well be the Emanations, but Ravine is even more loathe to see them as such.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle frowns. "I will admit that I cannot imagine what my life would be like without the influence of my goddess," he says quietly, picking at the stained spot on the front of his tabard. "She has been a guiding force in my life, and ever since I discovered my calling within her service, I have been changed. I am not a man of many talents, but healing is..."

He trails off, the corner of his mouth crooking up with his nerves. "Ah, but you know all this."

[whip_poor_will]

Her lips pull into a grave simper. Indeed, she does know, but that does not take away from her desire to learn things from others the natural way.

"It is a gift not many are blessed with, to know with certainty where their life's work lies. Mine only came to me after I died."

Losing her head, to be exact, but now doesn't seem like an appropriate time for decapitation jokes.

[tongueamok]

His frown widens with discomfort as she talks so candidly about her death.

"That certainty gave my life only a modicum of direction," he admits. "And yet, even knowing my talents, I have been a remarkable failure on many fronts."

He paws at the back of his neck, curious. "Do you know what that is like? Does your prescience allow you to see that, as well? To feel it?"

[whip_poor_will]

A strange, weary laugh escapes her. "Failure is a fact of life, Carlisle. Some make more mistakes than others, but we are all prey to our own faults. Myself included."

Ravine has failed others on more than one occasion. Even in life, as a diviner, she was not the best towards the end, when madness overtook her. When the threads of reality became impossible to discern from one another. From where she's standing, Carlisle has managed to accomplish much more in his short life than she ever had as Yehudit...

"As you can imagine, it differs from the individual. Some die more traumatic deaths than others, and require more time and care to contend with. I believe this is why the delivering of souls has been tasked to those of us who have died as well -- we are more capable of understanding the dead, having died ourselves, and oftentimes not in pleasant ways."