The Excubitor had tried the best he could achieve with bootless means—now it was hers, and given the already strained image some had of the Princess of Valor, it was better not to reveal this side of her. For all she knew, they could easily equate her to the long-dead Tyrant King of Odium.
The beasts called men had a stupidity in their trail of thoughts. But that much was expected from such. Ivory breathed, head raised, staring at a sole suspended orb a meter above her. So bright it was—so clean, similar to that I AM within the dream. Competent, too. Were all symbols or formless like that? she wondered, lowering her eyes down towards the Fermen.
The man had gone silent now, likely steeling his cogitation for the pain he believed he was soon to experience. And he would be right to do so, except pain wasn't the only thing it would be used for. No. He was to be a tool.
Ever since snapping into power, Ivory had yet to truly speak the Honorific words attributed to her order: the dreamShaper. The Fools clan had been strangely silent. Of course, there was always Aunt Illenna—except, given the fact that the traitor of Valor still remained unknown, trust in such people was a rarity within Ivory.
No, she required an Alternative.
Would a Formless have the Honorific words of the dreamShaper? she thought. Or does learning it create more discord within it?
Learning; this was the thing she had spent days doing. From the long archives of the loremasters to speculations from questioned deadEyes, there existed a possibility that a Formless learning the words of a contrasting order or symbol would create a discord within its wholeness. Of course, the true mechanism of these things still eluded her. For now, that is.
The Fermen spat. "GET ON WITH IT, WITCH!"
Ivory glanced at him, silent for a moment. "The lab rat speaks?" She gripped his hair, pulling backward; his eyes, those black things staring furiously into hers. So disgusting. But… it had its uses.
She jammed the needle into his pupils!
A wail rocked the room as the Fermen slapped his head side to side, screaming, spittle and snot splashing across the floors and walls.
"Disgusting," she muttered, rounding calmly towards his front, staring as the Fermen kept both eyes wide open. He knew better; closing them would likely cause further pain. That would also inject the needle even deeper into the pupils.
No.
She enjoyed the veins snaking around his face, the clenched jaw, the dripping sweat that painted his skin with that darkish, oily sheen. "I should change your hues," she said, raising her palm. "Remember, this is your Velira answering you."
Sudden...
The world pulsed within her vision—not the once-grayness she saw when charged with the power of I AM. No, this was the normalcy shared by all casters. A world that seemed stretched but blurry around the edges. In that world existed the bizarre shapes, distant lights, floating letters, and smoke that drifted without direction. And accordingly, these were barely the total of the observable symbols. There were more, hidden deeper in the world, visible only by those with the highest force.
She had once gotten a glimpse of that, no more. For now, she was in search of another. Back then, before the true snapping, during the moments when her mother had given her an Emerlt for power—back then, when those black things had come for her, she had cast. Not the wind, the sound, but something else… Paint.
Wild casting, no doubt, flowed from the familiarity with the DreamShaper symbols. That was what gave the awareness of her order as the Shaper. Nonetheless, back then, she had moved those symbols. Nothing of exception had truly happened, other than the abrupt decoration of her room… But what if that isn't all that it could do?
She was unsure of the total set of symbols cast by the DreamShaper, and given that she was yet to officially speak the words, any and all casting done now was, in essence, wild casting. And as such, without the deep familiarity with the right ones, she could find herself attacked by them. Discord, or even becoming a Talemir, was the consequence.
Her eyes lowered on the Fermen, watching him gasping, struggling to keep his eyes open. "Don't bother with trying to speak now," she said. "I have things I need to do with you first."
Cogitation spun like a surge of motions, endless data—some beaming from the symbols, others birthed from the depths of herself—came rushing. In it, she recalled the sensation of that symbol. The painted one… What was it? What could it do? Did it even exist here? After all, symbols were events, and in a place without the event, the symbol was sure not to exist.
That was true… however, wasn't light—color—the very paint of the world? Without them, without doubt, a thing wasn't truly what it was. Yes, different. Without the color of a thing, it wasn't fully that… it was different.
The world around her pulsed—Ivory could see it, her force seeping out like translucent waters. Fast, tiding like a thing that sought the utter domination of all things before it. But not yet; she still had to find the symbol she sought.
Where is it? Her eyes narrowed; the beating world rushing past her—the symbols, the lights, the shapes. All of it racing past as though she was peering deeper into the unseen. And she was. Ivory was like a glass, magnifying deeper into something else. Everything else was passing by—the symbols and their knowledge—but she wanted nothing of theirs.
This was a time to be careful; any error and some retaliation was sure to come. The symbols were not as flexible as men, perhaps that's why they were called the Adi: The true face of the world.
Something sparked in her vision; casted vision. She paused, wide-eyed. Before her was a difference. A deeper part of the symbols. Here, although pulsing, lines of brilliant thin colors lined the world. Threads of hues, pulsing, traveling said colors within them. But there was more. No longer could she see the room she stood before; no, not even the Fermen could be seen.
There was only the strangeness. On the spot where the Fermen stood, there was but a mass of twisting lines, floating letters that blinked on and off. That, and a strange whiff of a chilling whiteness to it. The soulForce, no doubt. But that was not the thing that called to her mind… it was another.
It was everywhere—a stroke. A brushstroke. Not the brush itself, but a stroke of one that trailed everywhere within this world. This stroke was a collection of colors; within it were shapes. Land, the darkened sky, the color of one's skin.
And then came its knowledge.
Ivory was agape, realizing the data contained within that symbol. The paint of something was its color; without that, although it didn't fully change, it was still different. Small, perhaps, but still there. To change the color was to change how it appeared in the world. How it somewhat functioned.
She smiled—or did she? There was no true awareness of it. But she was sure of one thing: this symbol was beyond her. Beyond the lowerMind and perhaps even the middleMind.
"I can't control this fully…"
But just a bit would have to do!
And out it went, her force like an ocean of transparent waters, splashing into this world's strangeness—targeting but one thing: the strokes. Ivory grinned, or at least she believed so. In here, there was no certainty of her true expression.
I just need to control you for a moment… to feel it again.
The waters touched the symbol!
Then came a stillness… a quietude… a slowed moment.
What is happenin—
Her mind exploded with data!
It was endless… countless words, ones she had never heard before. Places she had never seen. The colors of every point, in every place, in every moment came pouring. She screamed; she was sure she did. Or maybe she didn't. There was no true way to know. To know anything at all.
Her thoughts were gone, hollow… but yet, there was the awareness. The knowing of what she wanted. Just for a moment, she sought no full control over the symbol, just an allowance of its power. Just for a moment… just for a bit… Please!
The world shattered, and Ivory slammed back onto the ground, panting, a burning ache spreading into her head. Maddening—she could see little. Not the walls, the glass window, not even the Fermen was clearly within her vision. She knew this sensation; she had read of it within the archives of the deadEyes.
Right now, she was with very little of the mindForce, and thus, as a consequence, her mind could no longer input the stimulations and visuals from the world around. She gritted. There was enough regardless. Enough for what she needed.
Ivory tried to stand; she couldn't, and instead fell back on the earth. The mind was spinning now.
Mist this!
So she crawled, creeping towards the Fermen. She had to see it. To see if it had worked.
She bumped against something. Something hard. She could not perceive it, not through the reeling colors across her vision; the mind's way of failing in visual input. Nonetheless, a surety did exist, though… that thing was a leg. She was sure of it.
Ivory gripped onto it, rousing herself, panting. Close now, she was so that the breath of the Fermen warmed against her face. I need to see his face. She clenched, channeling whatever force was left over within her body.
LET ME SEE YOU!
Something caved.
Just for a moment, the eyes cleared from the spinning shades of color. And in their place was a face. A man, not dark-skinned like the Fermen, but pale, hair long, white and lustrous like that of the brightest brightCrown. With a needle still in his eye, the man had his head slanted to the side, a daze in his eyes, spittle dripping down his lips.
Ivory laughed. "I've changed him!"
She collapsed soon.