#especially bc of the bit of folklore that says they steal musicians bc they can't create their own music/poetry

[elsewhereuniversity]

The amateur's society

There is a new society in Elsewhere. It is well-known and well-advertised, even among those of the student body that have not seen, or do not believe in, the Gentry. In fact, it seems to gather the unaware students far more freely than others, for it names itself as The Amateur’s Society, and describes itself as a place for people who want to practice an art without needing any baseline of skill or past practice, and without any judgment for any piece that falls short of the usual standards.

This society meets, rather unusually, in the same place every time. The same corridor in the same building, with the same rooms set aside for different kinds of art, on the same days, twice a week. There are never any rooms that have been booked by someone else in advance. The rooms and various workshops are always fitted adequately for what is required of them. There are never any rooms that fail to exist, any student who wants to get to that floor and that corridor always seems to find themselves there on time, without any half-dimensions or neverending staircases or suddenly appearing forests getting in their way.

These strangely convenient arrangements have drawn no end of suspicion from those that are more aware of the Gentry’s machinations. They whisper that the society must be trying to lure in artists, that it must be a place for hunting Fey to spot their prey, that it advertises to unAware students to make their being Taken that much easier. And indeed, from the outside, it seems that way. Many of the attending student’s are simply freshmen who have come to sing songs and sculpt and practice rhymes in order to relieve the stress that university life naturally applies on them. In amongst these students, there are often people with slightly unnatural edges to them, keeping a keen ear out for anything that may attract their fancy and doom the unwitting artist to a sudden disappearance.

And yet, inside this convenient corridor, things seem to change. Above the entrance is a Treaty. It is written elegantly, and is kept both vague enough not to incite a search for loopholes, whilst also being kept specific enough that it’s nature is clear to anyone who so much as skims it. It is a Peace Treaty. It states that those who enter the society’s borders do not go there to ridicule other artists, or to find someone to Take, or any other malicious intent. It states that anyone is welcome, no matter their background or species. It states that everyone who enters must try their hand at art. And, perhaps most importantly, it states that Anyone can try their hand at art.

Once you have entered, the omnipresent, ever-so-subtle tenseness of Elsewhere University seems to vanish. People give names willingly and happily, although it is unclear if those are their true names. It does not matter if they are, as nobody who truly belongs to the society would ever dare attempt to use them. People sing songs of things they care about with mismatched pitch, and sloppily pour their heart into poetry for all to see, and put their greatest fears into half-finished drawings. They write stories with emotion but no substance, make pottery that is bright and misshapen, and paint undecipherable life studies, all with  smiles on their faces and gleams behind their eyes.

Any and all of these creations are applauded, simply for the beauty of having been created. When their creator chooses to have it displayed, they are encouraged for their confidence. When they choose instead to ferry it home without showing it to anyone, they are simply encouraged for pushing themselves into the ever-daunting task of artistry. Try as they might, nobody has ever detected a hint of sarcasm or  judgement in the rooms that make up the amateur’s society. The administrator’s, those in charge of managing the society and keeping it's  patrons inspired and encouraged, were carefully picked out to be those who understood the difficulties of trying something new, and who were compassionate enough to help others surpass these difficulties.

There are Gentry among these people, of course. Many of them simply sit back and watch with fascination in their eyes, for they may have seen finer art pieces many times before, but never have they seen such enthusiasm and genuine reckless empathy put into the art of creation. There are those Gentry that have been so caught up the society’s attitude towards throwing away your fears and Creating, that they have even attempted their own pieces of art. Strange, janky poetry that speaks of lands beyond imagination in words quite unfamiliar to the listener’s ears. Paintings made entirely out of single sharp lines, that do not portray anything, but give the viewer a deeper understanding of the relationship between being indebted and being owned. Crude iron rings and necklaces, crafted from behind thick gloves and safety glasses, that will never be worn and fill anyone who sees them with a sense of heedless freedom. Any Court would be horrified at the thought of one of these pieces existing, let alone one of their own number creating one. But the Courts do not hold power here, and these pieces go unjudged by all but the kindest of eyes.

There have been Fey that have disregarded the Treaty above the entrance. That have stalked through the rooms of the Society, that have found a mark and followed them out. That have Taken them, and left the society with one less Creator. In such cases, the administrators have been known to start off the next meeting with a direction. With an instruction. They have been known to give the myriad of artists under their care something to envision and replicate in today’s Works: a safe return for the missing artist, and swift judgement for their Taker. 

In such cases, the society is always somewhat different. The poems more pointed, the drawings more crude and vicious. The halls are filled with songs of pain and safety and revenge. Dozens upon dozens of minds fix themselves on the pain of one soul and the return of another, and they apply all the belief and creativity and Power they have to bringing this about in their stories and their sculptures and their scripts and their dreams.

It never takes long for the missing artist to return, dropped off by something unrecognisable and shivering. It never takes long for apologies to be sent to every administrator begging for mercy, or for thanks to be written into the form of a slightly-shoddy couplet and scrawled on a university wall. It never takes long for the amateur to come back to the society and for it’s usual function and atmosphere to reclaim it’s halls.

When the administrators are asked about what powers the society, what gives it this ethereal protection and keeps it free from the Courts’ gaze and allows anyone to create free of judgement and keeps it’s rooms in the same place and time every time, they always smile, and they do not lie. They tall tales of belief shaping the world. They say that iron only harms those from under the hill because the whole world has applied enough belief to this fact. They  talk of folk stories about salt lines and iron horseshoes and milk left out at night, and how those stories eventually grew into their own form of protection. They talk about how the art of creation has always been a unique power of humanity, about how it has allowed them to shape the mystical world without knowing it, about how even one person, believing in something small, like a lucky charm, can give that belief a certain tangibility.

And they talk about how, if you get enough people together, and you free them from their inhibitions about applying their unique gifts, and you give them some beliefs to follow, like a corridor that is always there when it is needed, those beliefs will naturally form. They will talk about how the amateur’s society was created by one woman who believed very hard that people could truly enjoy trying a new artform and joining a new community. And they will talk about how ultimately, Elsewhere University is shaped by human thought and storytellers more than by any real laws or rules.

And when the administrators, are don talking, they will thank you for the insightful question, they will encourage you to follow your passion, they will remind you that making something just for the sake of making it it is always worth it, and they will ask you if you want to join up.

-To the person behind this blog, and everyone who has created content for it. It’s been amazing seeing you all try your hardest at this, and I hope I will continue to do the same for a very long time. Thank you.-

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