Chapter Text
When the sunlight touches his eyes, he scowls, closes and covers them again. There are many noises too: dull rumbling replaced with gusting wind, the rustle of leaves, and birds chirping. The name “Brightlands” serves as a warning connotation, and Rythian fusses with how much his eyes hurt just trying to keep them open. This is how he knows he’s out of the End; there’s no void or darkness, just the consistent ground where it divides with the sky on the horizon, and plenty of light.
Foliage canopies over him in the forest, which makes the sun just more bearable in the form of small rays. Speaking of sun, Rythian notes not to peek directly at the spherical object as it more than irritates his eyes. It’s much stronger than a candle flame and it annoyingly floats around everywhere he goes, like some twisted companion of fire. He reaches in his bag to reassuringly grab at his items one last time to make sure they did not somehow disappear, before trekking past oak trees in the forest.
Over time the “floating candle” in the sky starts to dull out, which seems normal for candles and other light fixtures, but curiosity gets the best of him on the subject matter. Using some rope he’s bundled with his bag, he hoists one end up and over the thickest branch above him and ties it around himself. Climbing trees are no different than chorus plant stalks, and using the trunk as a guide, Rythian hoists himself as far up as he can, untying the rope at the top and re-looping it to fit back with his items. There’s a new light at the very top above the trees, one he can actually look at, along with small sprinkling flames that reach down to the ground at the horizon.
Below him are sounds of groaning and ambient hisses. Instead of reckoning with the creatures below, Rythian settles with sleeping in the branches until the sun returns in the morning. “Smart to be stealthy” is a thought. There was no knowing if the creatures below him were going to hurt him, but there’s much he doesn’t fully know about this world yet that he’ll decide on learning later. In the moment, the stars put him to sleep…
< - - - >
The next day Rythian manages to meet the forest at an end, revealing a large clearing of grass and wild wheat, with buildings sprawled out in the distance. Civilization this quick is more than a blessing. The food he packed for himself was tight and lackluster, and his back was more than sore from sleeping on the branches the past night. He adjusts his face mask and brushes out any sense of disheveledness as to not appear too strange, yet he doesn’t know for certain if he would actually stand much far out in this world as he did in the End.
The buildings in the settlement are built from planks and logs of oak and birch, with stone outer walls and paved paths through grass. Deliberately placed plants are placed in pots and planters, and in row crops around the outskirts of town where farmers tend to them without distraction. The townsfolk, who look much like him, yet very different, seem just as busy about their lives. There’s not a single ill-given glance; someone even waves at him, to which he actually bows back, but by the time he rises it has seemed the person has moved on back to whatever they were doing.
Rythian sighs and looks at purposefully decorated building signs with pictures of wares and services… Outside a pleasantly large and palatial looking building is a carved symbol of a book, giving way to something Rythian is quite comfortable with-, an athenaeum. More simply put, a library.
By the doors are a small cart of books, with a paper post attached saying something Rythian doesn’t know the language of, (“free books”). More than anything, he doesn’t think the books belong sprawled out that close to the ground like they are. Books were somewhat treated as a luxury where he’s from, meant to educate or provide special powers; scrolls were more Common, but still used with similar intention. Text was powerful, and never to be discarded; and the most powerful texts were locked behind watchful eyes in vaults…
He grabs one of the books that had fallen off the cart, brushing off any possible dirt or dust and opening it, only to notice that he also has no clue where to begin in understanding the written language. The next one he picks up is the same way, written in more, what was it? Brightland Common... There’s a new issue to ponder over, and while finding some civilization or hint of shelter is a solved case, figuring out how he’s going to begin to converse with people is something he didn’t really think about.
“At least everyone here seems safe enough” is a tagging thought; village kids can be heard running around buildings, and adults chit-chat. Rythian figures he’ll start by doing a favor and taking the books inside the building in front of him, as it seems that’s where they came from. He stacks almost all the books in his arms, and heads inside.
A lady at a desk sees him “are you returning those?” she asks, fixing her glasses.
Rythian doesn’t know what she said but figures she wants the books since she's looking at them, so he sets them all down on the desk in front of her and makes haste to explore the building. He fails to notice the librarian’s confused frown when she sees a green bookmark attached to the inside of all the books-.
Similar to what he's seen before, many books line shelves and walls; but every book he's taken from any of the shelves read to him just the same. It’s not any more helpful that his eyes linger far too long to eventually just fall off the page, as if the symbols and letters would magically flutter around and rearrange themselves into something he could read. It’s not anyone else’s fault for this predicament, but it certainly won’t be easy to find a solution for. Rythian thinks the more upsetting truth is time. How much time is needed? Does he even have the time to learn a new language?
He doesn’t know much about the people of this world, and the things he would know line themselves in the bias of what was taught. It’s almost frustrating to know that things are likely much different here than what he was told they were.
To ease the tension, Rythian cups the book in his hand while his other hovers over the pages, a dab of magic tosses the paper in a manner of skimming. Instantly he finds drawings, more sound clues to provide substantial meaning. However, whatever is drawn in the bowls and on the plates are unrecognizable subject matters to him. Is it food? What color is it even supposed to be?
He slams the book shut a little harder than he thought, and rubs the bridge of his nose, grumbling some profanity only important to himself in this case.
“Excuse me?” someone speaks. Rythian retreats his hand to stare down at the human in front of him. “If you’re looking for something in particular, I’ve read most of the books here. I can probably show you what you’re looking for better than the librarian, haha-” they say with a chuckle at the end. This person’s body, (except their face), is almost fully covered in fabric. Purple lining the edges of a hooded cape, and more of the same in intricate patterning up and around a sort of dress robe. A red and silver fabric piece contrasts as a belt, along with a small silver colored crown made of some iron-like material, and a red amulet. Since he is so well dressed, it would almost be easy to assume this person has some authority in this place, but their tone was so casual it reminds Rythian of some delinquent savant.
Nonetheless, Rythian doesn’t know what he’s saying to him, takes a guess and hands Seto the book like he asked for it. Rythian turns on his heel to walk the other way but the other calls out to him. “Wait!” he starts, “I didn’t mean to bother you!”. Rythian feels him reach for his hand and he pulls it away swiftly. “Just, I saw you using some magic and I thought you were looking for something specific”.
Rythian turns to face him again, expecting some furrowed brows or maybe a scowl, but the person in front of him just seems to be waiting for a response, expecting Rythian to say anything at all.
He sighs, “¦ ・ ⟍̅フリᒣ ・ ⚍リ⟍̅ ᒷ ∷ᓭᒣᖋリ⟍̅ ・ ॥フ⚍。” (“I don’t understand you.”), Rythian admits. It almost feels good to let out his honesty now than continuing to walk blind into potential problems he’s not keen to deal with.
The other looks worried, nervous mostly. They gulp before speaking, “Can you say that-, one more time?”
“∴⍑ᖋᒣ ?” (“What?”).
“Hmm” they ponder, tapping a finger to their chin and staring at the plank floorboards. “I think I might have an idea”.
A hand is offered to Rythian this time, and he takes it, letting this new person lead him down a different row of books near the back of the building. He’d question where they were headed and why, but he’d probably not get a very good answer without seeing for himself. When they let go of his hand it’s replaced with another book. This time, when he opens it, the text is different. He still can’t read it though; so he hands it back. Another book is given to him, and it’s different, but it’s not something he knows; so he hands it back. And so on, and so on.
They hunt through so many books on the shelf that when they speed up, Rythian notices Seto’s hand doesn’t appear when the next book does, only that they’ve instead levitated over and back when the cover is shut. It’s not until they are almost at the end of the shelf that he opens another book handed to him and it’s in Galactic. “Identifying Overworld magics and symbols. Written in Common and Galactic”.
“Overworld?”. That’s a new one; and, figuring it was written as so in Galactic, is probably a more accurate version of the term “Brightlands”. Though, it’s not bothersome to say either or.
Rythian nods at the book with approval, and since he doesn’t hand it back the other assumes it’s something he was finally seeking out. “That one says it’s written in Galactic. I’ve only ever met one other person who could speak it!” The other says light-heartedly. The two proceed to awkwardly stand around the shelves, Rythian’s eyes wandering around the walls until the other clears his throat. “By the way” he spoke, pointing at himself prematurely “Seto”.
“Seto” Rythian repeats, and Seto nods. Probably the best way to introduce himself, Rythian does the same. “Rythian” he replies, hand gesturing at his own chest.
Seto grins at him before looking back to the book in Rythian’s hand. Seto ponders, “We should probably check that out if you’re going to take it with you”. When Seto’s hand instantly motions to the book, Rythian hands it to him. “Oh, no-” Seto declines, shaking his own hands away. Instead he grabs Rythian’s vacant hand again, and leads him to the front desk.
The woman seems to be gone, but there is a book with well-drawn boxes lined on the page. Not every line of boxes are fully filled, but letters in Common are scribbled across the boxes close to the top. Seto ponders before shrugging and writing his own name in one of the boxes, along with the book's title. Not that it would matter too much that they logged a book that no one else would likely read, but there’s also no reason not to dishonor any respected rules of the library.
When they both leave the library, Rythian instantly notices the cart outside has been re-filled again with the books from before. He’d complain if he wasn’t one to just accept things how they were; it’s likely where the books were meant to be if not in the building.
He doesn’t follow Seto any further, assuming this is where they part. He takes to staring at the sky as the sun starts to slowly fall like it had yesterday. He still doesn’t have a place to stay, or any trees to climb either. Rythian figures sleeping outside the town would be fine enough; if he recalled, there was a bench around the bend somewhere.
Seto notices Rythian standing around, frowning at the fact it seems the other doesn’t quite know where to go. If what they had previously gone through in the library wasn’t foresight enough, Rythian’s come a long way to almost not know where he’s going. Reassuringly, Seto could say the same for himself at one point. But if there really is nowhere to go at the moment, then there’s no reason not to stay either.
“Hey, Rythian!” Seto calls. Rythian’s head snaps over to see Seto moving his hands as a way to beckon him to follow.
He thinks about it, before shrugging off any skepticism. “Whatever, this is more helpful” he reckons.