unfinishedlibrary | No Party She'd Not Attend [open log]

No Party She'd Not Attend [open log]

Who: Cinthe, and everyone who wants to be here!
What: Arrival and getting her bearings
When: Two days before the new Story starts
Where: yes
Content warnings: none atm, will add as needed

((Catch her anywhere in the Library, she's doing plenty of exploring! Or feel free to PM, Discord, or brimstonemuse for plotting))))

There's a new face in the Library, a very blue face framed by long dark waves and a pair of curling white horns.

Cinthe has had a little time to adjust to the fact that she's been swept away by the universe's strange whims. Not much time, but this is familiar enough in both setting and circumstance that she's not panicking. Not yet, at least- she'll pencil it in for a possibility later if things change.

But it's a library. Sort of. Mostly. She can handle that, even if the books are all missing things and the people are weird and the halls are not to be trusted.

She's rather noticeable roaming those halls and rooms, dressed as she is in fine silk clothing and glittering, silvery metal. Bangles decorate her wrists, horns, and tail, and everything about her is quick, loose and flowing, down to the sinuous sway of her long tail. It flicks back and forth in a mix of feelings: wariness, interest, and a little straight-out confusion, an obvious tell of her emotions as she surveys her new surroundings.

Maybe it's a wizard's work? It seems very possible.

The Showers (cw: casual nudity)

It doesn't take long for Cinthe to figure out that the shiny metal levers produce a spray of hot water. She's seen such things in grand manors before, but this is simpler, tidier, and rather a surprise. No obvious magical works, no complicated steam-powered systems, just a blissful stream for washing off the road dirt. Convenient bottles that of course must be soaps, and partitions for at least a passing nod to privacy.

She feels a little like she should be guilty for taking advantage of it, but it's too much to resist and she's no stranger to public bathing. If someone comes in? She's half-stripped down and doesn't mind in the least. She pauses in her undressing at just her underthings, snug silk that highlights modest curves, taking a moment to unclip her long black hair and shake it out. Most of her jewelry has already been set aside, though a small diamond pendant and a gold amulet remain on delicate chains around her neck. It's a bit of brilliant red and gold encased in clear resin, a piece of brilliant fluff all but glowing in its gold setting.

"These are for us, right? The hot water. And, there are towels." Her accent is faint, musical, and mysterious, a soft lilt that would be hard to place even on her own world. Pleasant, but distinctly foreign.

Clearly, if there are towels they're meant to be used, right? With the water. The lovely, lovely hot water.

The Kitchen

The humming cold boxes clearly do their job of preserving the things inside them, but the rest is kind of a mystery to her. No woodstove or hearth or fire pit. Food packed in strange wrappings, if it's even food at all. Metal and glass boxes that might be stoves except they aren't. Cinthe picks up a plastic cup of ramen, shakes it, sniffs it somewhat suspiciously, then puts it down again.

Probably not food. Disappointing, but there might be other things. In the cold boxes? In the cold boxes, and some of it is even familiar. Cold cuts aren't common to her, but sandwiches aren't terribly strange and there's bread, and cheese, and apples, and...

She glances up from her work at any interruption, a little sheepishness crossing her features. She's making herself quite at home, but that's the Library's problem. If it didnt want her raiding the pantry, it shouldn't have kidnapped her. And given the option, she'll take fresh offerings over the last sad bag of dried apple bits in her scant gear. "Do you want something, too?"

If she's going to help herself, she can at least be gracious about it.

The Workout Room

There's not much to the gym, but Cinthe doesn't need much for her routine. The mats are enough for her purposes, and since she hasn't figured out the CD player, she works in silence broken only by her own occasional, musical humming. Cinthe has removed all her extra armor and jacket in favor of the simple, closer-fitting suit underneath, nothing scandalous but far better for moving unencumbered. Clearly, her outfit was designed with just that in mind, even the impossibly delicate chain mail shirt that hangs nearby.

Her shiny silver staff, the same light, flexible metal, is also propped against the wall for later exercise, but right now she's drifting her way through a routine of slow, flowing movements meant to work and loosen the muscles. Arm circles, side twists and pivots, all practiced and graceful for all their practicality.

A few moves, a warm-up, before she shifts her weight forward from her feet to the floor in a perfect front walk-over. Breathing steady and comfortable, tail curled close to preserve balance, she holds the arch for a moment before she comes back up to standing, clearly at home with the routine. If she notices an audience, it doesn't concern her, focused as she is on her movement in the sparse space. Until she pauses, rolls her shoulders in liquid motion, and lets out a long, quiet breath.

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Claire Ryland is definitely meeting Cinthe’s eyes, or at least looking at her horns, instead of daring to look down at the whole… sweep of her.

Besides, she’s underdressed too. Shrugged out of jacket and blouse and skirt, fishnets dismissed because magical girl means you can, barefoot, working on removing a pale purple bra when Cinthe asked her question and so Claire could no longer pretend to be alone. Skirt and presumably bottoms still on.

“I - yes, this is for our benefit. The Librarians don’t want to smell ripe unwashed Editor any more than we do. You’re…”

Very, very pretty?

“Very, very new,” she adds.

Edited 2026-01-23 12:56 (UTC)

Oh, here’s an interesting newcomer. One who dismissed the ramen and the stoves as unfamiliar and of inobvious use. And by that mode of dress, from a world more Mundane than mundane.

“I might. Hail and well met in the Library, newcomer.”

Hikaru Aozora, who may remind Cinthe of a (quite clearly adult) gnome or halfling with dragonfly wings and in the red and black garb of a sellspell, bears a staff with a jeweled tip, a red brilliant-cut crystal with some inner fire to it.

“Actually I might have that instant ramen you passed aside. Never seen the like before, I take it?”

He takes the package along with disposable chopsticks. Sets a kettle on the electric stove and turns it on by using the knobs and switches; the burners glow when he does.

Cinthe is perfectly fine with a little looking, lacking the implied vulnerability of being undressed. She's a performer, and well aware that she's...exotic, even by her own world's standards. People are people and there's nothing wrong with a little wandering gaze.

She will take advantage of the partitions once she's ready to actually step into the shower proper, but she's comfortable enough for now, tending her long hair in preparation for a good wash. And Claire's trick with the fishnets in particular gets the tiefling's attention, a flash (hah) of familiarity that she observes in brief glances.

But keeping to that unspoken etiquette of public bathing, she just nods on the topic she's brought forth with her question. "Good." Not that she would have let a denial stop her. "And very wise, as it seems we share some very close quarters."

She's spent a few too many nights stuck with the smells of stale beer and unwashed ass. Clean beds and regular bathing are a welcome amenity.

She smiles, tilts her head in acknowledgement. "Yes, I am very recently, ah, arrived. Unexpected, but i'm adjusting?" A handshake is a bit too forward given they're both in the process of undressing, but Cinthe is very much a creature of manners, as well as genuine amiable demeanor. "I'm Cinthe."

“…Claire,” she says, a smile spreading across her face. “Claire Ryland. Riot Purple when on duty with the keytar that kills fascists.”

It soon becomes clear that her carpet matches her drapes - her hair is naturally, or at the very least supernaturally, purple, a crushed amethyst with an almost metallic sheen. Down to the roots.

“Punk singer keyboardist in the riot girl tradition… And monster hunting magical girl guardian.”

Edited 2026-01-23 14:31 (UTC)

Cinthe is familiar with a fair number of exotic races in her travels, nothing quite exactly like the stranger before her but more than close enough to be comfortable. With a healthy dose of respect/caution, of course, because wings like those and a staff like that definitely suggest power at work. The resin and gold pendant around her neck holds a similar fire, the shimmer of something in brilliant shades of red and orange that flicker with captive flame. Enough of a hint of skill in arcane matters, to recognize when someone might be dangerous.

But the greeting is friendly, and it's nice to see other practitioners of a craft she might recognize. Cinthe smiles and inclines her head in returned greeting. "Well met, and thank you."

She passes over the packet, giving it another look before she does. "So that's what it is, then. Ramen." she tries the foreign word out, in her odd musical accent. "It's pretty and neat, but just not very inviting. Dry, like a brick." The bright colors of the wrapper are appealing enough, at least. She watches him intently to see what he does with it, following his preparations with her amethyst gaze.

Oh. So that's what the dials do. Some of the boxes are for hot as well as cold, she can see now with his example and the addition of the kettle, and she makes careful note of the glow that appears at the burner rings. "Some things are familiar enough here, but some are quite strange," she acknowledges, biting down on a piece of sliced apple with a soft crunch.

“Well, of course it’s dry and unappetizing. It’s dehydrated for storage. Dried out. May I get into the fridge - ah, the coldbox?”

Assuming he can, he grabs frozen peas and some ham, and starts dicing the latter. When done, he dumps both over top of the brick of noodles in its cup.

Then the kettle whistles.

“Watch some minor alchemy at work,” he says, grinning, as he pours hot water over it and then closes the lid.

“And you may call me Hikaru Aozora, late of Mundus.”

"Ah, yes, like rations, then, or dry grain." It's not an entirely foreign concept to her, and she gives the package another look, this one speculative. The plastic is still throwing her off, but she's willing to give her new acquaintance a chance to demonstrate.

She moves aside for him easily, leaving him free access as he likes. "Fridge", that's another one to file away. "Oh, of course!"

She leans against the counter with her plate of nibbles, still watching as he moves about the kitchen. "Cinthe Velare, of the Blazing Heart." She figures her Temple is more informative as a title than her hometown. "I don't know of Mundus, I'm afraid, but it seems we're all from quite different places." All swept up by the Library's strange whims, whatever its criteria might be.

But she smiles, regardless. "Pleased to meet you. You are a practitioner of magic arts, it would seem?"

It's a very pretty shade of purple, all the way down.

Cinthe laughs quietly. "I only understood about half of that," she admits, sweeping aside her hair in a final brush and going back to removing her undergarments. The last bits of fitting silk are shed, not terribly modern but smooth, pretty, and practical.

She is indeed blue all over, except where the cuffs match the collar. She puts her underthings aside, out of the way on a bench, and toys with the levers of the shower to get the spray going at a satisfactory level of heat. Letting it warm up properly, while they talk.

"But I understand monster-hunting very well," she adds brightly. "And, 'magical guardian'. It sounds like you're well-equipped for the job, at least?" Because in Cinthe's experience, it's very rewarding but also messy, dangerous work.

"I have sisters, if from another mother. My bandmates. Sara on electric guitar, Cass on acoustic, Hana on base, last but not least Nova on drums. Hazel... managing, booking us to play from the Laurelhurst Public House to McMenanins Inn at Edgefield to the Cascades Ampitheatre. All of us ready to throw down with evil or strike up a song, or both, as needs may be."

She hums, something energetic with a steady 4/4 beat.

"We come from all kinds of places and all kinds of times here. Are you adjusting well? Did someone explain to you what we're up against, why we're reading Twilight and Shakespeare?"

"I am indeed a scholar of evocation and thaumaturgy," he allows. "Though I started as an engineer in a world where such artifice as these is commonplace, and magic nonexistent. I came to Mundus and my magic later."

He indicates the stove, the microwave oven, the refrigerator.And then, after checking the clock, he pops the top of his ramen, stirs, and demonstrates the cooked and still chewy noodles in the steeped broth to Cinthe.

"And there you go."

He uses the chopsticks to convey noodle to mouth, slurps it, chews well and dabs his lips with a paper napkin.

"I do not know of the Blazing Heart, Cinthe, but we are all of us on unknown shores. Tell me of it, first, and I'll tell you of this place."

"I didn't know you were a tumbler," Dunk says, watching her from the doorway, transfixed. She's still very strange to him, with her blue skin and her horns and tail, but she is very pretty.

Sanguinius spends the vast majority of his time around other men. Smaller than he, of course, and most of them his Legion and thus his sons. He's also from Baal, which is a desert irradiated hell. All of which to say, he's used to not wearing a lot of clothes, and he has recently come in close contact with his...beloved but slightly stinky brother, Night Haunter.

Hence, the showers.

When he hears her voice, he's taking a soapy washcloth to his long flight feathers. "Of course. They try, here, to make things comfortable for us." They don't always succeed, but an Attempt was Clearly Made.

Cinthe breaks into a broad smile at the familiar face. "Sir Duncan!" She drops her stance for the moment, in her pleasure at seeing the big man again.

She plucks lightly at her lapel. "I do a little bit of everything, really. Being able to move well helps with dancing...and getting out of the way of dangerous things." She nods solemnly, but only for a moment before she's smiling again. "I seem to do my share of both, so I try to keep in practice.

"Are you settling in well enough?"

Cinthe is fairly fastidious under most circumstances, though recent trials have had her on a rough road lacking more than the most basic amenities. Minor magic has helped some, but it's just not the same as a good, thorough wash, and she'll take a real mattress over a bedroll on the ground if she gets any say at all in the matter.

She's done without, plenty of times, she just prefers not to when at all possible.

"Hot baths are usually expensive," she muses. "Brought up in kettles warmed by the fire, or heated with magic. So this is quite lovely." She plucks the combs from her hair and shakes it out, tending her own plumage while trying not to stare at his.

She's still caught up on the "celestial" thing, it's a little strange to think such creatures engage in such mortal tasks as bathing. But she has manners and sharing a bathhouse with others is nothing new to her- everyone needs to get clean and often there's only so much space.

"It's nice of them to think of such things. If we're going to be here...though I think I would like more pillows."

"Oh, that looks much better, yes!" It even smells pretty good, and she watches him with his meal, while nibbling contentedly at her own spread. It's very much like what she'd get in a tavern or wine shop, comfortable and filling. She'll keep the day's lesson in mind for future kitchen adventures, now that it's been put into a context she can follow.

The words he speaks are certainly familiar enough to her, and she smiles brightly in recognition. Engineering isn't her domain, but someone has to build bridges and waterways and castles, right? "I've dabbled a bit in evocation, enough to be familiar with the craft, but I'm a healer by trade. Ysere, the Blazing Heart, is my Patron, the one who gifted me with my abilities. She is a great firebird of the Celestial Realm, overseeing a Temple devoted to her passions." Cinthe smiles, pleased at the natural flow of the explanation. "There was a library there, too, though not quite as big as this one, but that's where I trained when I first came into my power. Now, I travel in her name, doing what services I can. Healing, entertaining, and sometimes, when needed, fighting wicked things that need to be fought. Bringing Light where I can, in difficult times."

And fire. Sometimes lots of it. Though that will hopefully not be necessary in a library anytime soon.

Cinthe's smile is fond and a little sad, hearing Claire describe her relationship with her bandmates. Wistful, and a small pang of missing her father suddenly and deeply. She's even further from home now than she's ever been.

But she doesn't dwell on it, not right now. And there's genuine glee in finding someone here she has things in common with! "Ah, so you're a musician!" She smiles, because that she gets perfectly well. "I do...something of the same? I travel, I heal, and I dance. Sometimes, there are monsters and other dangerous things, and I fight them, or tend to others who do." Which will make this situation interesting, but Cinthe has found that in most situations she can make a place for herself. Her skills are useful, and she's nothing if not flexible in finding her purpose.

She inclines her head thoughtfully, then shakes it. "I know a very little bit, that we've been 'collected' and that there are a great many stories here, but I'm still making sense of it. And, I haven't had much opportunity to read, yet. I think I'm still in a bit of shock, really."

Because a lot of things here are strange, just familiar enough for her to function but still a tremendous mystery in most ways.

"Well enough, I suppose," Dunk says, honestly. "I am not entirely sure how to use the magic cooking boxes, but there's enough food in the magic cold box to eat by itself that I won't go hungry--and the pipes with the warm rain are very pleasant to stand under. Have you seen them yet? And have you seen the rooms with the talking and moving pictures?"

She grins, turning to give him her full attention and excited to compare notes on their discoveries. "I had someone show me a bit of the magic stoves, but I'm still learning. And the rain pipes, that was the first thing I did!" She all but swoons. "We have similar things in my world, but they are rare and very expensive, very much a luxury. Usually reserved for wizards and nobles."

She has enough magic to heat her own baths, but even that is dependent on the local amenities- a full tub of water takes some work to haul and fill. But sometimes a good, thorough soak is worth the cost, especially after bathing in rivers, ponds, or even just simple buckets.

"I haven't seen the pictures, yet! I know there is a lot of reading encouraged here, with so many stories, but I'm sure I haven't been to half the rooms here yet." She tilts her head, intrigued. "Moving pictures...like a pkay in a box, then?"

"It is a small luxury, but a good one, nonetheless." The necessities of war often mean Sanguinius has to go, well, too long without bathing. Which is awful except for the fact that one of the chief pleasures in life is that feeling of getting clean after being really, really dirty.

That's what he's indulging here, staying a little longer than absolutely necessary, the hot water coaxing his blond hair into curls.

"What kind of pillows would you like?" He's not flexing the ability he's learned here. It's simply, if you have an ability, you should use it to help others. Fighting or...pulling things out of books.

"Like mummers who are but pictures on the walls," Dunk says, excitedly. "I found it earlier and it showed me a story about street gangs in a strange city. They were called the Sharks and the Jets, though I know not why a gang would name themselves after precious stones. You will have to show me how to work these 'stoves,' for most of the cooking I know is over a campfire."

"Simple things," she agrees with a quiet hum. "I admit, I might be a bit spoiled in that way, particukarly with a bit of magic to ease things, but one must take care of themselves, too."

A small smile, a shrug, because she's not going to waste time or energy on guilt. She shares when she can, does a great deal for others, and is a firm believer that life is meant to be enjoyed. She's not going to lose sleep over a tray of sweet pastries or a pretty bauble now and then.

Or the promise of comfortable things for her bed. Dark eyebrows rise slightly at the question. "The one I have is fine enough, but another would be welcome, for sitting up to read and easing my back while I sleep. I know down can be quite expensive, but as long as it's clean and not made of bricks, I'm not terribly picky."

Cinthe beams. His excitement is contagious and she's just as intrigued by such new things. "That does sound like an entertaining way to pass a bit of time. I'm used to stories at a theater, but having such things so easily at hand, I think I would like that." She knows greater wizards can do such things, but it's generally beyond her scope of expertise. If they're going to be in this library, then they may as well take advantage of the amenities offered. Especially the truly ingenious ones.

She nods. "When I know them a little better, I will help you learn as well. I'm used to stoves with fires built inside, and cooking over a campfire or a hearth, but I've also seen magic stones that provide heat to cook with but a word...these seem a bit like that."

The whole goal, as he understood it, of the Imperium was to one day create a unified universe where everyone could simply do that: help each other with whatever they needed, find the happiness formed in the service of increasing others' delight.

They were not there yet. Nowhere near, and the only happiness he knew was the service of protecting humanity. Still valuable, but not the same.

"It might take me some time, but I will find it." He's like a working dog--he needs to have tasks, especially in this place where he can't fly or fight.

Every world has its strengths and trials. Cinthe's has its share of terrible things, certainly nit idyllic, but she's good at finding comfort where she can.

Or providing it, as much as she can. It's not perfect, but it gets her by.

"I'd appreciate that, truly. I have a bit of skill at making and fixing things, but I haven't found much to work with and most of my traveling gear was left behind when I was...transported." She gives him a sunny smile. "It's warm and clean, though, better than many places I've been."

She steps under the hot spray, running hands over her long hair to get it properly soaked through for washing, but continues to peer over the divider to keep up the conversation.

"They did not much consider our convenience when they brought us here." He was lucky (?) enough to be in his armor, but his brother Magnus had come in what looked like a feather-hemmed dressing gown.

"Once you are settled in, it is a good idea to build friendships by your skills." In fact. "Could you make a comb, perhaps?" Because someone's having A Time getting into the roots of his feathers.

Hisako pauses in the doorway and watches. She's awkward on the ground, only about four foot five and trying to be careful of her razor-edged steel feathers. A number of beaded necklaces more or less preserves her modesty, if she has any.

When the tailed ogre? seems to be done, Hisako stands on one leg to tap her free foot on the floor in a version of polite applause.

"Very nice," she says in a slightly dry tone. Steel teeth flash in her mouth. "Were you taught, or did you work that out yourself?"

Cinthe had kept her armor and traveling clothes, at least, which was a blessing. It's not ideal, but she counts herself lucky she has the basic necessities provided here. Sleeping outside on the ground in nothing but her traveling jacket and cloak would be a miserable experience.

She sighs, and peers at him from under the spray. "I can try, but I'm better at sewing, really. I have the magic to repair small things, as well, but creation magics are a different sort of thing. More the domain of wizards." She's got her own grooming to manage, with all that long hair, and a good boar-bristle brush would be worth its weight in gold.

"But, it's not my only skill, fortunately? I'm a healer by trade, and I have some combat training. I'm useless with a sword, but quick on my feet and with some command of battle magic."

Oh, that's very interesting. Cinthe has occasionally encountered harpies in her own world, but always very carefully and none quite like this. She turns to give Hisako her full focus: wary, but polite as she answers the question.

"A little of both, but I've been dancing for as long as I can remember." She tips her head in acknowledgement. "My father was a performer, and I have had the fortune of some very good teachers in my travels."

And then, because she's being polite, she adds, "I'm Cinthe."

"Hisako." She raises her folded wings and dips her head, vaguely reminiscent of a curtsey. An ironic one, there's certainly the sense that she finds the gesture amusing. When she raises her head again, Hisako... poses slightly, turns her face to a three-quarters view she thinks is flattering. Why not show your good side, if someone's intent at you?

"I happen to be a little bit of a musician, myself." She does have a ceramic flute hanging around her neck as a large pendant, in front of the beaded necklaces. "If we are here for long enough, we should collaborate. I'm not sure anyone else here plays instruments. Dance, that's a bit harder to discern."

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No Party She'd Not Attend [open log]

Showers

Kitchens

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Workout Room

Showers (I flipped a coin lol)

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Hey, it's just a two-sided dice really!

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workout

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