RP:Doorway Full of Stars

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

Part of Karasu/Kanna's writing contest!:

"You wake up to find a large door in your room where there surely was not one before. Should you go through the door, you must find your own way back."

This RP may be canon. It may not. Who are we to know what goes on at the doorway between this world and the next?

Summary: Odhranos wakes up in his office. The war is over. It's time to move on.

Provost's Offices, The Mage Tower, Xalious

Odhranos wakes up.

Around him, leatherbound spines glow glossy in the dim candlelight, while eyes of twinkling crystal peep out from the nooks and crannies between them, climbing in ladders of shelves that crowd in around him. Not in any way that is imposing, no. Merely comforting as they waver and dance along with the soft warm flame.

The terramancer groans and rests his elbows on the desk he finds before him, pliant leather cushioning hard sturdy oak, a well built desk by all accords. Odhranos holds his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of where he is, but his mind is full of dust and sparks.

“Where am I?” he croaks through dry lips, his voice crackly as if he had not used it in years.

“You tell me.”

Shyly, like a child fearful of what they might find, Odhranos peeps between his fingers. Sitting on the other side of the desk from him, is a figure, wrapped in the shawl of darkness beyond the candle’s reach. All the terramancer can make out is a broad chest, wrapped in a scholarly robe of deep blue, surmounted by a splendidly long beard that shines white-grey in the dimness. Odhranos is shaken, so much so his hands fall away and his mouth opens to form a question - “Who-”

He is stopped by a single raised hand that looms into the light. “You're asking the wrong questions my boy. Sit. Gather your thoughts. Ask when you're sure it's the right thing to ask.” Odhranos bites his tongue and sits back into the chair, mollified. He squints at the old man, curiosity writ large on his face but the sly candlelight defies his attempts. With an exasperated sigh, he admits defeat and instead turns his gaze upward. The shelves, the books, worn timber rafters and hard cut stone, one by one, Odhranos takes them in, his expressions scrunched in angry concentration. His instructor makes no comment, merely humming in approval at the diligent scrutiny.

“We’re in my office”

A small smile is his only reward. “I suppose. You are right and also not right. But such is a theory. Moving on, then. The question, come on, you must know?” A liver-spotted hand strokes the silky grey beard before with a groan of old joints, the speaker sits forward into the light. Sitting on the other side of the desk from him, is a very old man. From every corner of his face, he wears his age, in the wrinkles and dimples and the long wiry beard that drapes freely over his chest. Time has not been kind to this man, yet his eyes still gleam. Like gems, they glint with life and intrigue, oh with the wonders these eyes have seen, time could never touch them.

Odhranos cannot help but stare. After what seems like an awfully long time, he breaks his gaze away and coughs awkwardly upon realising he had been gawking. “I - sorry.” His elderly companion doesn’t make any comment, merely smiling good-naturedly as he awaits an answer, Odhranos looks back warily, now suspicious of the eyes’ spell, but even with looking once more, he is stumped.

“I don’t know who you are.”

Expecting disapproval, the terramancer is taken aback when his companion lights up with smiles. “Good! That’s the first step, my boy!” With peals of laughter, he sits back into his chair, seemingly satisfied with Odhranos’ answer, while the terramancer flinches with each chuckle. “Admitting what you don’t know is the first step. But you still have a ways to go. Come now, think, think!"

By this point, Odhranos’ nerves are frayed to nothing and he rounds on the old man with a frantic look in his eyes. “Sven above, I don't have time for this!” He gets up from his seat and moves to where the door to his office is, hidden in the gloomy shadow. “There are people depending on me! I refuse to fail them!” He fumbles in the darkness before finally finding the brass doorknob, which he throws open frantically, bathing him in a sudden light. Odhranos gasps and falls backwards to the ground, staring wide-eyed at the doorway. Where by all rights, a wood panelled corridor should be, the doorway now yawns with the space within and a hundred thousand stars beyond, sending a cold shiver down Odhranos’ spine.

“Do you have a question, boy?” The elderly scholar asks, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his stomach, his question hanging heavily in the air. “The door?” Odhranos doesn’t know if he wants to ask about the door. It’s rather empty and odd-looking. Odhranos grits his teeth, there's no time for this right now.

“It’s my way out.”

This answer is met with a disapproving click of the tongue. “You’re leaping to conclusions, boy. Never wise for a scholar. Never.” Odhranos clenches his fist with frustration, at this room, at this empty door and at this infuriatingly irritating man. “I don’t care!” The terramancer shoots to his feet, stamps over to the desk and slams his hands down on the wood, making the candle-light dance with a feverish frenzy. “Do you have any idea how much hangs in the balance right now? As we speak, people I love are being hurt because I’m not there to protect them. I have one simple bloody task to do, and then I can come back and answer your godforsaken questions, alright!? But until then, I have a job to do!”

Odhranos wheels away from the desk and faces the starlight doorway with angry heaving breaths. Behind him, the old man tuts despondent, displeased with the Oileanian’s rage. Odhranos grits his teeth. His anger is not for himself, it is out of fear. In his mind's eye, he can still see them, frozen in flight as the azure chains whip through the air. Teeth bared in screams, knuckles white with tension. He swallows a painful lump in his throat and takes a step towards the door, towards that endless open space. This is for them, he tells himself. I have a job to do.

“Your job is done, boy.”

Odhranos freezes in place. The scholar’s voice is weary, as if that morsel of an answer was a great burden to admit. “What?” The terramancer turns partly, his face contorted with confusion and irritation. “No! The ritual must not be complete, this is just a delusion, they still need me!” Again the scholar murmurs, his voice heavy with sadness.

“Your job is done.”

Odhranos is now infuriated. “What would you know, you old sack of bones!? How in the seven hells would you have the slightest clue what my task even is, huh!? No one knew, not even Lanlan knew, so how do you presume to know what you are talking about!?”

He is only greeted with silence, but a worm of doubt has begun to settle in Odhranos’ mind. Memories dance at the edge of his recollection though he tries to push them away.

“What do you mean my job is done? No, I still have to - ...They still need me to -... Surely it couldn’t have...” Odhranos finds the words dying on his lips. His memory creeps back to him. The chains. The ritual. How it ended. How his job was completed.

What came after.

Slowly, like a puppet with its strings cut one by one, Odhranos slumps, his legs giving out beneath him as he kneels in front of the starlight door. Slow realisation begins dawning over him, but this is no happy revelation. It is one that cuts like ice into his heart, freezing his veins and chilling him all over.

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

A moment of quiet passes, then Odhranos sniffs. The stars beyond the doorway grow blurry and he has to press his sleeve to his face. It comes away damp. He sighs, an angry, tired, desperate sigh. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he tucks his face down, hiding that foreboding door from view. It's too open, too deathless, too terrifyingly unknown. It takes some time before he can lift his head again, but the door still waits, as does his silent companion.

Slowly, wearily, Odhranos gets to his feet, smushing his cheeks to dry them as he sits on the arm of the empty chair.

"What do I do now?"

From the other side of the desk, the unknown figure gets up, dragging the long trails of their robe over the floorboards as they round the desk to lay a kindly hand on the troubled terramancer's shoulder. Odhranos looks up in surprise at the kindly wizen face that twinkles with quiet pride.

"Now you're asking the right questions, my boy."

Odhranos turns his head and stares blearily at the doorway. It's emptiness makes his stomach turn, but he musters a question from his dry throat.

"Do I… move on? Is that what this is?"

The scholar shrugs. "Perhaps. Do you want to move on?"

Odhranos laughs dryly, putting it so bluntly like that really blows the cobwebs away. "I don't know. I thought I was ready, but…" The Oileanian shakes his head with uncertainty. The scholar seems to nod with understanding.

"It's alright not to know. Remember, it is the first step. The next step is taking the time to find your answer."

Lifting their hand, the scholar walks over to the doorway. Silhouetted in the starlight, they turn back to deliver some parting words.

"Take your time. Find the answers that you need. Maybe they'll even come find you. Who knows?" the scholar chortles, then lifts a hand to wave in parting. "When you've found your answer, we can talk again." With that, they step into starlight and are lost from view, leaving Odhranos alone with his thoughts, and a doorway full of stars.