shifted_logs | paper cities burning

Entry tags:

paper cities burning

Characters: Braxiatel and anyone ever. It's an open log! Tag in! Join in origami art!!
Location: The Astral Plane. Somewhere near food, probably.
Time: After Narvin has been made into a wee-bitty thing. Before the hypothetical future where Braxiatel jumps into a ravine because he hates babysitting.
Summary: Braxiatel needs to do something in his spare time. This is it.
Warnings: Origami awesomeness.

Among the stars and spaces between them, free of the heavy weight of unease that had haunted the Plane, a man was putting his supreme talents in dexterity and mathematical genius to use by making art out of folded paper. Or to put it more simply, Irving Braxiatel was going slightly mad playing the babysitter and so had resorted to origami to try to keep himself sane.

He had begun with a few simple flowers and had quickly gotten sick with the mundanity. That was how the paper model of the Palace of Versailles had ended up at his feet. Then, when he had gotten bored with that, he crafted for himself origami warriors, the grand life-sized sazu game pieces that once were placed in the floating tombs of the Deathless Emperors of Draconia, that they may battle one another in their sleeping death.

Presently, Braxiatel was putting the finishing touch on Nelson's battleship. He had done a fairly good job of representing the Battle of Trafalgar, as far as he was concerned, and was rather pleased by the final product.

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Since the rules were no more complex than that of a human game of shogi, Braxiatel outlined them without any simplification. The nice thing about this sort of game was that, with a few constant rules, they managed to form a game whose iterations numbered more than all the atoms in the universe at one point in time.

He offered Narvin a coin so that the boy might toss it. "I'll take the obverse." Braxiatel had, by this point, settled on a strategy for the game.

Taking the coin, Narvin turned it over a few times in his hand, before tossing it in the air. But fortune didn't favour him, and he made a face after he caught it.

"You're first," he said. He wasn't sure yet how he was going to beat Brax, but he was certainly determined to try.

Braxiatel smiled, more in amusement at Narvin's face than in pleasure in winning the coin toss, and made the first move. His tactic was this: to play effectively but not cruelly. This was not a lesson in humility, nor was it a battle for pride. For Brax, it was entirely about trying to do the best by Narvin that he could do. Every time Narvin made a very terrible move and recognized this, Braxiatel would make the offer to take the game back a move so that Narvin could attempt another move. This, Braxiatel hoped, would give Narvin a better understanding of the game than merely playing it out straight. And he tried to be careful with his words so that he didn't patronize Narvin when he made his offers.

Narvin was focused on the board, trying to figure out how to bend the rules of the game to his advantage. He'd made a few clever moves, and many more very bad ones, but he'd taken Braxiatel's offer each time and backed up, considered his options, and tried again.

At the moment, however, he'd managed to accidentally box himself in. Stuck between two of Braxiatel's warriors, Narvin frowned, and tried to figure out how to get out of the trouble he'd gotten himself into.

Braxiatel kept his silence, giving no clue or indication with the movement of his eyes over the field. Narvin was, after all, playing well, considering how young he was and how new he was to the game, but that couldn't last forever. There were simply some corners Braxiatel couldn't help him out of.

Rather than pressuring Narvin, Braxiatel reminded him, "You may always take one move back." Whether or not that would help would be up to Narvin to decide.

"Right." Narvin hesitated, one hand hovering over the trapped piece, before he scooped it up and put it back down in its previous spot, brow furrowed. Moving it back was easy, but keeping it from being ensnared by one of Braxiatel's pieces was considerably harder. He stared at the board for a few moments longer, glancing at his other pieces.

There was an opening, but it was risky. Still, it was the only way to keep from falling into the same trap again, and Narvin knew it. He moved the new piece, and hoped that he wasn't making a bigger mistake.

Without arrogance, Braxiatel moved his piece and made the winning play. "Well," he said. "I've seen much worse games played."

It was an incredibly useless evaluative statement on its purely logical value, but he knew well enough what a Gallifreyan tutor was meant to sound like when he approved of something, and if Narvin hadn't picked up what that was by now, he would have to start soon.

Except, Braxiatel reminded himself, he wouldn't. Narvin wasn't going to be returned to the Academy when Braxiatel's duty was done with; Braxiatel's duty would be done with when Narvin returned back to what he ought to be.

Edited 2010-11-13 05:29 (UTC)

Though Narvin had known he probably wouldn't win, his defeat still prompted a tiny huff. Still, Brax's backhanded compliment was familiar -- it was the Matron's favourite form of encouragement as well.

"And their Emperors play this while they die?" he asked. Wonder of wonders, Narvin remembered something about another species that wasn't vital intel.

Braxiatel became a little bit more alert at that, remembering that he could not expect Narvin's behaviour to display something that could not presently exist. He might as well deliver a cultural education while he had the opportunity and the willing audience. And for all the maddening inscrutability and vagueness he loved to trade off, Braxiatel appreciated curiosity and would not fail to reward an interested question.

"When the Emperors of Draconia are very near to death, the loyal left-hands of Empire - and by that I mean the clergy - put them into a death-like sleep. They take them up into their tombs and keep them there, unable to die, not truly alive. It's the same sort of philosophy that compels us to preserve the minds of our own in the Matrix: the Draconians don't want to let go of people who might still be of use." Braxiatel's eyes briefly flickered to his palace, and then he spoke on. "It's a rather dull afterlife, and Emperors so dislike the dreary. So the tomb walls are made of paper that replays memories and permits telepathic communication, each Emperor is gifted with a set of sazu pieces in his Imperial colours, and the Emperors challenge each other to games to occupy them in their afterlives." He added, "The practice of entombing still-living Emperors was ended, of course, after one of those misadventures that so often shapes history. After the death of Emperor Shem."

Placing the sazu pieces back at their starting points, Braxiatel's expression didn't shift at all. "I have often heard alien scholars express pity for the all-powerful Emperors who were unable to act or interact with anything beyond their heaven. But theirs was a very finely gilded prison, and any isolation can seem pleasant with enough intellectual stimulation." It was this lack of shift - this complete absence of warning - that had often caught his Gallifreyan students off-guard when he switched rhetorical modes. The thin and fleeting smile that followed was the only signal that he knew precisely what he was saying, and that did not even last the time it took to lift a piece and set it back in its place.

And Braxiatel certainly didn't expect a child to notice the scathing criticism that Braxiatel had completely excised from his tone.

Edited 2010-11-13 10:14 (UTC)

"And all they can do is play against each other?" It was clear from Narvin's tone that he didn't think too much of that idea, and that Braxiatel's criticism of Gallifrey had flown right over his head. It did seem to be sort of a pitiable, and a bit boring, version of an afterlife. He'd much prefer the Matrix -- at least there, he wouldn't have to play wargames for the rest of eternity.

"And entertain themselves by conjuring images on screens, yes." Done with setting the board back in place, Braxiatel looked over Narvin with an expression carefully devoid of any emotion. "If you'd like to know more about the Draconians, I'm in possession of some comprehensive texts on the species." Some of them were even interesting to those not of an academic persuasion.

Braxiatel remembered that Narvin had chosen an alien game over assembling and disassembling computers. It may have been out of boredom with primitive technology, but children of Narvin's age had other motivations, and Braxiatel wouldn't discount the possibility. "And if you're better with more interactive education, I note that I am familiar with Draconia and would be able to lecture on the subject."

It wasn't exactly the model definition of interactive, but at least Narvin wouldn't be alone.

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paper cities burning

no choice but to cheat

works for me!

more adventures in cheating!

well, considering the characters, it's not surprising

what a bad influence they are

they should be ashamed of themselves

do they know shame?

Narvin knows embarrassment!

And Brax knows guilt. Almost there, boys!

they'll get the hang of it eventually. maybe.

no subject