Chapter Text
One: Al-Haitham
It’d been days on end that Kaveh would retreat to Puspa Café to drain their poor cha supply, leaving Al-Haitham to simply think about how he would pay for all of that when he was done. Hoping to catch Kaveh in the act of enjoying some weekend cha , Al-Haitham waited in one of the outdoor chairs of Puspa Café as people began to file out to enjoy the evening comfort of home. Everyone except the person he was waiting for. Not a single head of blonde hair or blue feathers appeared in the crowd. Archons , at this point the vein in his forehead would burst. He’d stupidly opted not to bring a book with him, and of course- the Akasha had been terminated. It was a bit of a struggle to get used to the absence of constant knowledge, but soon the quiet of his mind became comforting. Clicking his tongue, Al-Haitham got up from the chair in nothing short of irritation and walked to the message board in the same fashion. There must be something he could read instead of the expressions of the people filing out. To his mild delight, there was. Then, to his mild dissatisfaction, the only thing of interest was a line of familiar flowy handwriting.
The stories Mr. Maddah tell may be old-fashioned, but he's quite skilled when it comes to controlling their pace.
A reasonable compliment, but Al-Haitham had a sneaking suspicion that he would be irked again much too soon.
But everyone's used to getting their information from Akasha now, so they unconsciously overlook such sophistication of technique and artistic maturity. I hope with the leave of the Akasha, people recognize its beauty.
Why’d he expect anything different? While he would take up a pen and begin to dismantle Kaveh’s sentiment, there was another point of interest he’d failed to notice before.
There have been several cases of Canned Knowledge smuggling recently.
There was nothing new about the information, he’d written a summary on the cases for the sages before they went…missing in action. It was the Matra stamp that truly made him look. The message's ink had long dried and the paper looked worn already, but the Matra stamp looked vibrant. Al-Haitham recalled that Cyno had to go back through the Matra approved items to amend the actions of past corrupt members. The message would be taken down in due time since Canned Knowledge had been rendered useless, but his thoughts still spiraled on about what the message meant and what it reminded him of.
Something peculiar -to say the absolute least- was happening. Surprisingly, the source of the trouble this time was not his insufferable roommate. It was Cyno. More often than not did Al-Haitham and Cyno battle- whether it be physical or verbal, but lately Cyno hadn’t been as…focused. While yes, the general matched Al-Haitham blow for blow, he’d been more aloof than usual, always looking off in the direction of the forest.
-
On one side of a desk, there was Al-Haitham, delivering the complaints gathered to Cyno. His fingers soon ran out of paper to scroll down, and he ended his words promptly.
“That’s all there is to say. Deal with it all accordingly,” Al-Haitham began, looking up from the parchment to Cyno. The general wasn’t looking at him, his amber eyes were fixed onto the window of which displayed a view of Ghanda Hill and Avidya Forest.
Cyno was a man of business, what could possibly be occupying his mind other than the numerous retaliatory attempts to jumpstart the Akasha? Slamming the paper onto the desk with enough force to make a weaker man cry, Al-Haitham continued, “Cyno. I believe you’re aware I’m a man who doesn’t appreciate repeating his words. Did you catch everything I relayed?”
On the other side of the desk, Cyno simply moved his eyes to stare Al-Haitham down, making it known that not all of the man’s attention was focused on the conversation at hand.
“Coincidentally, I did. My thanks for the information,” Cyno muttered, sighing and calmly taking the paper that Al-Haitham had slammed down.
There was no point in continuing a conversation with someone who was half-present. Face as stony as ever, Al-Haitham flung open the door and shut it with a bang, no doubt disturbing the papers that Cyno had neatly stacked on his desk.
Good.
-
Even at such a time that Sumeru needed the General on full alert, there was something occupying Cyno’s mind. Not at the moment, however. No, at the moment the General Mahamatra was nowhere to be seen. This was a thing to be celebrated; he needed as much focus as he could muster to absolutely destroy Kaveh’s statement.
You need to be more realistic. No art form is eternal. The day when all of its value has been exploited is the day it loses its reason for existence. Akasha or not.
He needed to get his reservations out on the architect somehow, and public embarrassment seemed the most tame way of doing so. Al-Haitham knew his roommate would indignantly respond by spewing his criticism on how Al-Haitham thinks. What did it matter though? Even now, his roommate wasn't out of the cafe yet. Al-Haitham had half a mind to find the man inside on his own. Sadly, the other half of his mind won. All Al-Haitham could do was stare at the message board blankly before turning away to retire for the evening at the familiarity of his own desk. God knew he desperately needed that familiarity, especially after all the unpredictability that fell upon Sumeru in the past month. He just hoped Cyno would get his act together soon.