Nuit to Nuit (Closed)

[Anselm]

Nuit to Nuit 65 Winter 511 Marketplace in Zeltiva OOC : Continued from another thread. “What is your question?” Anselm asked the Nuit.

[Eskin]

Eskin watched the man carefully as he spoke. For a few moments after he had finished, the man looked like he was concentrating, meditating almost. From what Eskin knew about magic, this man had just been using some. Eskin couldn't decide if that was good or bad, especially given the fact that this was supposedly a fortune teller.

Whatever Anselm had done-or was doing-seemingly gave him something to think about, and he seemed absorbed in thought for a moment or two. Whatever he saw or did, he obviously knew that Eskin was also a nuit. Really not too difficult to tell, since he didn't do anything to hide it, and the signs were fairly obvious when you know where to look for them. And it's not too difficult to know where to look, when you see the same signs every time you happen to see your reflection.

Eskin tensed slightly when Anselm's hand went into his cloak, then relaxed when he saw it was only a pouch. Perhaps something to aid in his fortune telling? His hypothesis was confirmed when the other nuit poured out several small bones with strange symbols scratched on them. Interesting Eskin thought, trying to memorize as many of the symbols as possible, and resolving to ask a professor about them.

When Anselm asked what he wanted to know, Eskin spoke without hesitation. "Are there any ways to bring a dead or undead person back to life, magic or otherwise?"

[Anselm]

Anselm stared at the Nuit for a few moments and then carefully put the carved bones back into their pouch and returned them to a pocket on the inside of his cloak. He waved his right hand toward the man in a dismissive gesture and then stared at him some more. A full two minutes went by in silence before the man started to get up from his chair. “No,” Anselm answered matter-of-factly. The man sat down again. Anselm's attention appeared to wander off to something on the other side of the street. He picked up his cane and began gently tapping the end of it on the ground as he gazed off into the distance. Suddenly his attention snapped back to the man. “But you already knew that. You've been studying up on it over at the University.” He again waved his hand dismissively as the man started to say something. “So that begs the question, What do you really want … “ “Hey you!” A big burly man was approaching at a fast walk. It didn't take a genius to see that he was angry about something. He pointed a finger at them and shouted, “You been messin' 'round with my wife an' I'm gonna rip your limbs off one at a time and feed 'em to my dogs, you rottin' stinkin' pile of speshlug!” The last word was in a language Anselm didn't know, but he could make a pretty good guess at it's meaning. Anselm glanced at the Nuit and asked, “Anyone you know?” The man shook his head in the negative. Anselm said, “I was afraid of that.” By now the red-faced man had reached them and it was clear that Anselm was the intended recipient of his wrath. Anselm sat unmoved, watching the big man with mild interest. The man reached across the table to grab Anselm but then stopped abruptly and let out a yelp. He covered his right eye with his hand and backed away in surprise. As he did, he bumped into the tall Nuit, nearly knocking him out of his chair. “What the hell?” He screamed as he pulled his hand away from his face to steady himself. His eye was watering and squinting badly and it was obvious he was having trouble getting it to stay open. But he regained his composure sufficiently to offer some insights into how he felt about it: “I'm gonna kill you, Nuit!” Anselm still hadn't moved, but his cane had fallen to the ground and his left arm appeared to be hanging limply at his side. Without taking his eyes off the angry man, he whispered to the other Nuit, “Feel free to jump in any time.”