WHO: Cinna and The Dark Knight WHEN: Some days after the Cathedral Heist. WHERE: Academia Mythila's Library. SUMMARY: Whispers in the Dark. CW: -- ♫
The night was considered a mystery by many. Some people thought of it as a moment of respite when life itself came to quietful rest, a momentary pause before the next day. Others looked to it warily, the things lying beyond where sight could reach nothing but danger. And yet, it was more than that, much more.
It was a different side of the coin of life, where things changed and transformed; In the shadows lie another world, a world shunned by those who walked the day. In a way, the night was the world of those rejected by the day, so they learned to thrive in it and see beyond what an average person could see.
Moonlight shone upon the crystal pane of the extensive library connected to the Academia’s dormitories. Libraries were usually quiet and peaceful, but in this moment of the night where only breaths and the breeze could be heard, it unnerved most valiant souls. Some chose to remain as the magically lit room allowed research to continue until sunlight came again.
The one who they sought was there in her lonesome, and so, along with the sound of a sudden gust of wind, the metallic sound of footsteps echoed in the stone walls around them. With the moon shining upon their dark armor, the figure came to a stop once the woman they sought came upon their sight.
“Cinna Calliope Vassalos,” they said, their voice deep but unrecognizable, not because it was distorted but because it couldn’t be recognized. “It has come to my attention you have been looking for me.” The Dark Knight folded their arms, and while you couldn’t see their eyes beyond their helmet, their gaze could be felt upon who they addressed.
When she heard the echo of steel boots upon the stone, Cinna paused in her reading. But only briefly. The library was typically quiet at this hour, but it was not off limits; the chances of being interrupted seemed small, but never zero. So she was unfazed by the approach, despite the weight of the step, the clunk of metal on stone. She only drew an exasperated sigh, eyelashes fluttering as she lowered her gaze again, leaning closer with shoulders hunch and long strands of silvery hair falling across her book. Could she not get a moment’s peace? Even here?
It was the sound of her own name, in that unrecognizable voice, that drew a start from Cinna’s shoulders. She stiffened in her chair, mouth closing into a tight line, and a hand fell frozen across the page. The sound of her name, her full name, still had the strange power to unnerve her at times. It always had. Even after so many years upon this earth, it was still something deficient to her ears.
Slowly, Cinna lifted her face to peer a narrow-eyed stare up into the stranger’s visor. She couldn’t make out the shape of their face, or anything more than a shadow, of course, but Cinna stared nevertheless, as if she could discern something (anything) of their identity if she stared hard enough, or long enough. Her mouth was expressionless, though her eyelashes fluttered again with the effort.
Eventually, she leaned back in her chair, her hands sliding back slightly from the pages of the book she had been studying. “Who told you that?” she said, wry twist tugging her lips now. “I’m a curious person, that’s all. What does a…a hulking, impressive, profound creature such as yourself want with…texts and relics?”
“I’m merely a well-informed seeker of truth,” they replied instantly, folding their arms over his chest as a sign that they didn’t intend to attack–but that they weren’t lowering their guard either. Perhaps it was overconfidence, or perhaps they had no desire for violence that night, who was to say?
“As you are yourself, it seems,” the Dark Knight continued with a wave of their hand. “The library of the hallowed institution is merely ripe with a vast compendium of information they would rather keep secret, and that just doesn’t sit well with me. It’s awfully greedy, don’t you think?” There were no holes on their helmet, and as far as it was to plain sight, it was simply impossible to see beyond what covered their face.
“No matter how much the church wants to keep their secrets buried, they always get to the surface one way or another.”
Behind her table, Cinna drew her arms across her own chest in a similar gesture. It was equal parts non-threatening and defiant. She was not afraid. She thought, vaguely, that perhaps she should be. This so-called Dark Knight was some legendary harbinger of calamity, or some such. At the very least, they were in armor. And far more powerful than she was herself. Cinna was smart enough to recognize that. And the good Prince Titus certainly had been aghast at the sight of the Knight that evening in the Cathedral. Cinna had not forgotten.
Still, the Knight did not seem to be here to cause her any harm. Certainly, they could have taken her head already if they truly meant to. And she had no intention of starting a fight out of hand. Cinna had questions, but no desire for heedless violence. This, then, was an opportunity, she thought.
She cocked her head, eyes still narrowed, though the sardonic little smirk had not dissipated. “So you’re…a champion of the egalitarian agenda?” she asked, apparently unimpressed. Though there was a lick of eagerness now behind her eyes, something that drew her spine upright despite herself. She did have to wonder (and maybe it was her pride), why they had come to speak with her, of all people, of all places…
“I can’t say I disagree with you,” Cinna added, shaking her head and glancing away. “All these vaults and locked doors and whispers…rocks and more rocks,” she added under her breath, almost to herself.
“You could call me a champion of the lesser people in my spare time, if you may.” Their response was heavily laced with sarcasm, but perhaps there was a hint of truth to their words. “Lies and deceit are the foundational blocks of their faith, but they are not the only ones who favor secrets, as I’m certain you’re well aware.”
That was the reason they were here, but in their silence, they were weighing the right words to say as they tapped over their armor with their fingertips. “I require something from Simurgh, but as it happens, I want to save myself the trouble of taking it by force.” The Dark Knight unfolded their arms and took a few more steps until they could touch the edge of the table. “You seem to have a knack for slipping into secret vaults.”
The lesser people. Cinna’s eyes tightened momentarily at the phrase, considering, before letting it dissolve again. She wasn’t sure what the Knight meant by it. Who, in their eyes, was ‘lesser’? And who would come out of all this on top. If they were to be believed, she supposed they meant everyone who wasn’t elevated behind the stone and crystalline walls of the Church. But there were always questions behind questions, and Cinna was a skeptic even on the best of days.
Spare time. Her lashes fluttered again, though she tried to conceal the way thoughts raced through her mind and passed like a flurry of shadows behind her eyes. Who was this person, then? And what else did they have to do with their time, if not this?
But her lips pursed at the suggestion. Simurgh’s secrets were not hers to give. At least…they shouldn’t be. But, then, the Knight had a point. In Simurgh, all was for everyone, yes. Except for those on the outside, those who barely ever got in, or never did at all. And Cinna had seen that first-hand. She had been enfolded into life there, but not without a cost. And however much Badr and Zuya loved her, called her ‘sister,’ they didn’t really know. How could they? Badr had never really seen her for what she was. He had never questioned it, and therefore, he could not understand.
“We aren’t in Simurgh,” Cinna started, carefully, her gaze trailing again to the shaded visor of the Knight’s helmet. “And it is not as it is with these rock-worshipers.” Her lip curled on the words. “What secrets they-we-they keep,” she fumbled, “are not locked away in the same sort of…vaults” Something stalled in her, a momentary twinge in the eyebrows. “Would you, though? Take it by force, I mean…if a simpler option doesn’t present itself?”
“Not right now, but you do have an upcoming trip, don’t you?” A very amused chuckle rumbled within the Dark Knight, who shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose it’s only natural you would first see and focus on the faults of others, but I know Simurgh isn’t as different from everyone else as they’d like to be. Keeping secrets from others and themselves, worshipping false gods they barely understand….” They shook their head.
“I’m not a judge, but it’s plain to see.” They pushed themselves away from the table, taking a few steps around, even showing their back to Cinna, perhaps as another show of extreme confidence. After a moment of silence, but not of consideration, the Dark Knight turned around to stare at the stern woman resolutely, even if their eyes couldn’t be seen.
“I will do whatever I must to achieve my goals.” Their hands turned into tightly curled fists. “Whatever means are necessary. I won’t let anything or anyone stop me.” Once again, they folded their arms over their chest. “But I’m certain we can achieve a mutual understanding. I see the spark in you, that same one I have.”
She flinched a little at the sound of laughter, turning her eyes away again toward the book still open before her. It was not a palatable suggestion. But it was…intriguing. Curious, perhaps. And Cinna was a curious, questioning creature to a fault. The covert proposal (for so it was becoming) offered more questions than it answered, but it also provided Cinna with a unique view of the situation. Her inquisitive nature would not permit her to fold now.
Not with the Dark Knight standing right there, breathing the same air, addressing her directly…
“Spark…” Cinna said, and the word was soft, barely above a whisper, as she seemed to think. Indeed, seeming unfazed now, she drew a fist to her chin, knuckling the bone there, and let her gaze wander again around the room. In truth, she took in nothing of the surrounding books, the darkened windows, the tables. She saw none of it now, for her thoughts had trailed away to dappled woods and the sound of singing filtered through the leaves.
She glanced up again, searching the shaded visor once more with that unflinching stare of her own.
“You have a point,” she relented, slowly. “Simurgh is not so unique for all that. Symbols and rituals are little different from idols and pageantry.” And, she thought ruefully, Simurgh was no stranger to their own brand of pageantry either. “If it’s…the truth you seek—I mean, the true thing—I think…I think we are on the same side.” She drew a quiet breath, eyes yet steady, but with a flicker of profound eagerness and curiosity that was impossible to disguise. “What are you looking for in Simurgh?”
“I’m not here to judge their faith, not even Crystalism. If the people want to believe in something, they have the right to know the truths hidden from them.” After all, that was one of their reasons for taking action–it wasn’t just empty words, but they were certain the Church would disagree. “Excellent, I knew you would find logic in your own terms.”
The Dark Knight paced away again, seemingly not interested in staying still. “Their ancient records of the Calamity. I’m looking for something all countries want to keep buried, even for themselves,” they began to count with their fingers as they walked back to Cinna. “Secret tomes of forgotten spells, the truth about the Crystals, the truth about Serenitas.”
They slowed to a complete stop, considering Cinna before deciding against speaking more than they needed to. “Speak your terms.”
Cinna refrained from rolling her eyes. Perhaps only barely, but she did manage to hold her gaze steady. Certainly, she supposed it was only fair; people could believe in whatever it was that moved them most. What right did she or anyone else have to tell them otherwise? But Cinna had nothing but derision for Crystalism, and the longer she lived in Serenitas, the longer she was forced to mold herself to these stone walls (and the easier it was to feel herself fitting neatly into place), the harder her distaste was to conceal.
Still, she managed it here. She watched the Knight pace away from her, her own eye twitching involuntarily, then schooled her features once more. Back into something too stern to be entirely indecipherable, but passionless and stony all the same.
Her eyebrows lifted again when they spoke, impressed. Such records would certainly make a fascinating study. Cinna wasn’t entirely sure she would be willing to part with them if she could lay her hands on them to begin with. Ancient records of the Calamity, secrets each country wanted buried, hidden even from their own, forgotten spells, the “truth” about this city, about the Crystals…
Cinna pursed her lips, glancing down quickly at the book still open before her. Which now seemed a paltry thing by comparison. “Terms,” she started, looking up again. And it’s true there was something bold in her stare. Hubris, maybe. Or perhaps the ignorance of ambition. “Well, I want to read them too. Whatever I find. Especially that bit about…forgotten spells and the truth about Crystals.” Cinna shrugged. “And…your word that you won’t lay a gauntlet on the Chosen of Song?”
“It was my intent from the very start to let you peruse them,” The Dark Knight spoke simply and without hesitation. “However, I doubt they will be of much interest or fulfillment to you without my assistance.” They nodded their head, pausing in a moment of silence before speaking up. “I will not kill him. If he stays out of my way, I will never put a single finger on him, but if he does….” A deep and amused chuckle left their lips as they stared at one of their hands and curled their fingers into a tight fist. “I might have to use the stern hand of a parent, but you have my word.”
There was no need for further conversation, but they decided to give Cinna a moment longer in case she wanted to change her mind. They were driving a hard bargain, and she would be betraying the trust of her family, but the Dark Knight was confident her curiosity and thirst for knowledge was her true driving force.
“You shouldn’t have admitted that,” Cinna said after a pause. She stared up once more into the shadowed, hidden gaze of the Knight. Not quite defiant anymore, perhaps even with a hint of amusement behind her icy expression. Pale lips tugged to the right, stony gaze trained upward through frosted lashes. “But,” she concluded, “if you…are offering to assist in the studying of them…” Her voice trailed off briefly, as her gaze slipped momentarily around the library then back again. “Well, suffice it to say, I’ve found some of the tutors here to be a bit…disappointing.” She was completely sure by now that she knew more than half of the professors here, and at least as much as all the rest. It was a rare professor these days who could challenge her. Or at least satisfy her curiosity with a meaningful answer to all the questions she brought to them. Many did not seem to know, many refused to say. And there was so much more out there, so much they were not teaching at this school, Cinna was sure of it.
And now she had something worth sniffing out.
Still, she did hesitate one final time. It was not a very good bargain, all things considered. Under most circumstances, Cinna thought that Badr would stay out of harm’s way; he wasn’t much of a fighter and didn’t often go looking for trouble. But that Prince of his… He had a way of dashing off to be the hero, and Badr was too lovesick to see reason, too devoted and good for self-preservation.
Cinna glanced again at the Knight, wary. Then nodded. She could otherwise keep Badr safe enough on her own, she thought; she always had before.
“Honesty is my policy regardless of what my reputation might tell you.” Underneath the mask–underneath the helmet was an amused grin that no one else could see, but the tone of their voice conveyed the emotion almost as well. “You may find me a more suitable study companion,” They said, walking around the table to face Cinna directly.
Cinna straightened when the Knight rounded the table to stand over her. But she closed her lips, jaw tightening in stubborn resolve not to look frightened.
“A parting gift,” they said, holding out an open hand where a small and smooth stone rested. “Use this to make a copy of the texts. As soon as you touch it you’ll know how to use it.” The Dark Knight waited until the woman took it before beginning to walk away, and towards the open window. “I’ll be seeing you when the time is right.” After casting one final glance to Cinna from over their shoulder, the Dark Knight jumped outside and faded into the shroud of night.
Cinna glanced down at the stone in her palm now, dragging her gaze away from the open window. It was true: the moment her fingertips had touched it, she knew. She knew instantly, and though some quick little buzz of uncertainty remind just long enough to spin through her, she knew what she would do. It was easy enough. And, she dared to hope, worth the cost.