Journey Beyond (Caesarion)

[Leeta Snow]

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56th day of Summer 515AV

Leeta sat upon the grass on the edge of town. There she could watch the mindless drones shove things in the back of wagons. They all seemed happy to do it as they hopped about like little rabbits, carrying various things. Part of her was dead inside, the other, rotten. Looking to the town briefly she despised it, it and its people. She longed for a new home, a place far away from here. Out in the bay she could see the masts of ships swaying gently on the ocean’s waves. “Maybe I could stow aboard one.” She stabbed the ground with the limber stick that was in her hand, puncturing through the grass and making a hole in the dirt. She then ripped backwards, revealing the earth beneath.

“well...I think I might just get keehauled doing that.”

Yes she was talking to herself, audibly. She frumped, not liking the thought of having herself tied to a rope, dragged undership against barnacles, and raised up to the other side. Looking back she viewed the wagons. Her limber pale form stretched out on the grass, propped up by her elbows as she viewed them. There was nowhere to hide stowing away on a caravan. They’d probably just kill her, or at the least tie her to a post in the middle of the wilds for taking advantage of them. No, she was stuck here. The black dress she wore had been somewhat cleaned since her sister’s death, but still there was blood upon it. The black hid the stains well and only a trained eye could see them.

Her lithe body was adorned with all sorts of tattoos, and her sickly complexion seemed to make them stand out in the hot Zeltivan sun. Suddenly a shadow flitted this way and that over her body. It was that of a sparrow. The heat had gotten to it and she watched with eyes that had seen death many times over, knowing it was in its death throes. It flopped wildly and then came crashing down to the ground a few feet from her. There it struggled in the grass, its legs and wings fluttering this way and that. Slowly she moved over toward it, pulling the stick out of the ground beside her.

As she crept closer it tried to catch its breath, but old age and the heat had struck it hard. It’s fate was in the belly of a cat or some other predatory scavenger. She jammed the stick into the ground next to it and dug it a little grave. As it watched her, occasionally kicking its feet, she made sure its body would fit.

“There there...no need to fight anymore.”

Slowly she brought a finger to its face. It bit her but she didn't care. She had compassion for it and brushed the tight backswept feathers on its head. Then removing her finger and leaning back, she picked the stick up in her hand and gripped it tightly. With strength unfitting the young twig of a girl, she took her stick and jammed it into the bird’s head, killing it quickly rather than letting it die slowly. She slowly plucked a feather from its wing and then slid it into the grave, covering it in dirt.


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

The man woke up and immediately rose from his bed, stretching his legs and sighing. He looked around to see that almost all of the other sailors were asleep, which seemed to be the case most of the time. He went to bed early and he woke up early. He enjoyed quiet mornings to himself, something that no one else seemed to give a shyke about. Before getting off the ship they were sleeping in, though, he practiced more of the Air Reimancy theory he'd been developing, where he would exhale and attract his breath to his Res to increase the available quantity during transmutation. He continued on this routine for a few minutes before he started to wonder how effective it was, and how pointless it might be to try and attract only a small little extra bit of Air. Plus, he could draw from nearby Air without having to exhale and decrease his focus for a moment. It was better to just use environmental air. Still, it wasn't bad to practice attracting natural elements with Res, so the proficiency increase was always something.

He decided to leave the ship and go for a stroll, though he was fairly aimless in his path.

. . . This town is not what I expected. He'd ended up staying here for too long already. The city was starting to drive him crazy with how dense it was. He wasn't able to find out anything he wanted - no information on the University really, or what happened to the College of Djed, or where Aoren went. Even despite not getting anywhere, he would already have to leave soon, off to some distantly departed land where he had no connections. That was always what happened, ever since he left Ravok, but being so far away from his home meant that surely he could never quite return to it. When he arrived in Riverfall - that was it. That was where he would stay for a long time. Before he left Zeltiva though, he decided that he would look around the area that constituted the exit of Zeltiva . . . where other caravans were already taking off, a show of the city's obsession with trade, even land-based. He looked around and noticed a distinction in the buildings near the edge - they were nicer, cleaner, painted white or cream and filled with flowers in their gardens. Was this to make newcomers to the city feel its class? To give them a proper impression? Did people even really care that much, when they were either coming for business, pleasure, education or living?

He supposed it was much the same way in Ravok, though, with the nice homes situated around the edges, closest to parts of the lake that you could venture into without so tedious a canoe ride. His eyes focused on the horses, too - all of the creatures at the gate, the large hauling beasts with their wagons and their large wooden transports attached. Some with humans sitting on them, some without, either way those creatures had a twenty-four bell job for the next however many months it would take. He was sure most of them were going to Syliras, though. Judging by the cargo, it seemed to be almost entirely luxury goods, which wasn't a surprise. He was sure that Zeltivans didn't quite have the most food to export. They probably wished for raw coin or food in exchange for whatever they had to offer - which was quite possibly educational items as well, maybe books written by Zeltivan University Professors. He wondered if they had any magic books . . . ? Like from back before the College of Djed kind of went to hell?

The man briefly decided to walk through the gates, his eyes glancing upon all that was in the distance. It was a fairly attractive sight, though he knew it would seem quite hideous when traveling it for the next eighty days. The people going through were all very excitable or very dreary, which seemed to be a theme in this city, whereas in Syliras it kind of seemed like everyone was an unhappy form of happy if that even made sense. One person he noticed was not associated with the cargo and the traveling, instead it was a girl who seemed to be . . . murdering a bird? She started to push it into the ground and it struggled against her before she beat it to death with a stick. His eyes went from tired to immediately quite shocked, as he couldn't believe that she just outright murdered a creature like that. The floor was soon to be soaked with blood, though he barely noticed, instead focusing his gaze on her form - ridiculously skinny and of average height for a girl, unlike Firenze and Talya.

She looked uniquely dramatic, much like the women he found around Sahova, or the overly bored housewives in Ravok. There were also tattoos all over her. Caesarion's skin was completely untouched by such things. He didn't imagine a reason for her to have gotten so many. Did she find it appealing? Adding to her exotic charm? He found it quite the opposite, destroying the sanctity of the perfect human form and painting one with unnecessary illustrations of things that did not even reflect them. Humans made art, they weren't art themselves. Still, he hadn't yet become judgmental enough to really let this put him off so much, and in fact he was entirely curious as to why she was ripping off feathers from a bird that she just murdered. So - he waited for a caravan to pass, then weaved through and made his way over to the woman that he'd been peering at from one edge to another. "Hello, how are you doing?" he asked, pleasantly. He had a fake smile on his face and his attitude altogether seemed friendly. Though he was observational at the moment, and highly cautious.

"This is sort of a spontaneous reason to approach you - but I wondered, why did you just kill that bird?"

[Leeta Snow]

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The stake was driven hard through the birds head, the flopping was no more, and now he was being covered over by the loose earth she had dug up. In a week’s time even more beautiful grass would grow in this spot, nurtured by the bird’s corpse. Such was death to her. You just rejoined the life cycle. It was all Djed anyways, what mattered which form really it took. She wasn’t so morbid as to cause death to a creature that didn’t deserve it or seemingly beg for it though as she wasn’t evil, but she didn’t hang upon the false ceremonies that people had over the living. That was part of what made her slightly different than others she supposed. A life of malediction could do that to you.

She was so focused on the burial of the poor creature that she didn’t even notice that Caesarion was watching her nor approached. His manly voice called out to her and she snapped her eyes upward to see who it was. Not many bothered really to speak to her, so when someone did it was a bit of a shock. To put it simply the guy was a hunk. He looked very attractive and he was running? Leeta started to pant inside and sat up to look a bit more presentable, rising to her knees to sit upon her legs as he reached her. Despite the small changes in her stature and a faint smile passing over her face, she still looked unkept.

“Hi?” she said, curiously to him. She let his question to how she was doing fall by the wayside as the man seemed to be in a hurry to ask her something else. When he did she reached down and pulled the stick from where it lay next to the grave and cleaned the bird’s blood and viscera from its edge off on the grass.

“Oh…” she said, yet thinking to herself. “Of course he didn’t come over to talk to you.” She gave up looking proper and flopped back down on her side, continuing to pack in the dirt. She answered the man before her. “The poor thing was dying, suffering in the heat. It would have suffocated itself, slowly dying in agony under a scorching sun. It was old and feathers worn...And what little fight it had left was all but spent.” she spoke almost poetically, which was somewhat on the borderline between creepy and caring. Yet it above all indicated she wasn’t stupid. “So I killed it, stabbed it to make its end quick, and helped it, and now…” she reached over with dirt cover hands and held the small feather, “It will continue on…Who knows what he carried with him to his death, but he will bless the living. I may inlay this in a necklace”

She then spoke to the grave in Nader-Canoch saying, “I will bring honor to you. You will be maledicted and you will soar still.” With that she stuck the stick that killed it into the ground as a makeshift headstone.


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

He eyed her strangely as she responded to his formality with hi? as if she were so off-put by simple gestures of conversation. He wasn't so alarmed in reality though because he'd become accustomed to weirdos like her in the past year, living on Sahova and all. She almost had the exact personality as some of the wretched old mages on that island, that morbid curiosity and that socially awkward personally. When Caesarion bid her his question, the estranged excitement in her face dropped to almost a sorrowful gaze before she turned her view, looked away from him, focusing on her task as she had been before now. She began to speak of the bird and how it suffered - how it was doomed to die in the heat beneath the sun's glare, apparently suffocating before she heroically decided to impale it through the brain on repetition. He wasn't sure if he bought her story, but he also wasn't sure if he was a skeptic, so one could consider the mage simply curious of her motivations. The fact that she knew of how 'spent' its fight was implied that she was very well acknowledging its resistance as she murdered it, though whether or not she considered such a thing murder or graceful mercy was entirely to her own perception.

Either way, he could not judge, considering Caesarion had killed hundreds of sentient and intelligent animals within forest after forest - deer, wolves, bears, dogs, hares, other such things that did not really have much of a chance against an esteemed Reimancer such as him. Her way of speaking of it was so bizarre though, as if it was such a true mercy, her predilections. As if it really didn't bother her so much as it pleased her - she spoke all too much like the witches of that forsaken city of the dead that'd he recently departed from. I killed it, stabbed it to make its end quick, and helped it... Creepy. The more she spoke, the more creepy she became. Yet in a way she was so interesting that it outweighed her bizarreness. He was actually fairly compelled by her awkward energy and her fiendishly macabre outlook on such things. Caesarion was - himself - a very uniquely aligned person, with both an obsession for light and a need for the dark, a hunger to fight and kill but a self-imposed human outlook that required he offer compassion. This woman did not appeal to the humanitarian part of himself, but she did intrigue the less civilized fact within him.

The man nodded, acknowledging what she said, at least shortly before she went into further detail. "I see. That is fine, then," he said. Though, she started to talk again, and this time her words were far more intriguing. It will continue on . . . She said. He will bless the living . . . She said. I may inlay this in a necklace . . . She finally said. She was speaking of something secret - of something seductive in nature, to those who sought the power that magic would bring them. Dark Magic. He knew that was what she wanted from this creature, and perhaps why she killed it in the first place. And yet he didn't know exactly what magic she was so inspired by. He only knew of a few, really, while there were many. He knew of things introduced to him in Sahova, like Auristics, Shielding, and the few magics he personally knew. What was this? World magic?

"What do you mean, it will continue on and bless the living? The dead stay dead, my Lady. They can no longer bring anyone anything. They are worthless." He spoke practically, though perhaps his emphasis on the word 'worthless' was a bit explanatory of his feelings on the dead. Caesarion did not find such desire as to loom on those who have passed - and perhaps this came from his intense racism against the Nuit after what he'd experienced in their city. "Tales of corpses for power are only born from a witches feeble imagination, yes? So do you speak of these things knowing their lack of value, or are you talking about something other than some misplaced theory about the power of bones and blood?" He almost seemed ignorant, but he was not. He was just lying, because he already suspected that the dead did in fact hold power. Another of his many theories, and involved with his lessons on how Djed were universally involved with all things - even corpses, surely. He only doubted her so as to draw an impassioned response - her fury would spell more words, and then, he would know if his beliefs were true.

[Leeta Snow]

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Mercy can stay a hand from killing, but not killing also can overpopulate an area with deer, causing disease to spread and predators to increase to unhealthy levels. Death was necessary, and it would be one thing if the woman forced the bird down to the ground a few feet from her, but alas, she didn’t. It was compassion for its life that brought it to an end, like a horse who has broken its foot, you don’t dare let it live and be eaten by animals. Having properly buried the creature, she now wiped her hands on the grass that was unfortunately dry. She rubbed her hands together, using her own lacking sweat to wipe the grime from her.

He seemed to approve of her methods, saying it was fine, and it spoke more volumes of the man above her than he realized. The people of this wretched city would likely be disgusted with her actions, with her words, and with who she was as a person to the point that the words ‘I see. That is fine, then” meant so much more. It caused her to look back up to him and perhaps treat him almost like a person. While she squinted at him in the light of the sun hitting her, he at least garnished the girls attention.

With his procession of questioning she smirked and continued to rub her hands to free from it the soil. She didn’t realize in doing so she had let the feather go and it sat somewhere attached to her dress. “Hoh! Worthless...Yeah...okay. You don’t know the first thing about magic do you? My family have been maledictors for centuries. We don’t raise dead bones, but to say the Djed from those that were once living has gone completely goes against the idea of its existence completely. Of course there is power in old bones. Just as there is power in new bones. Does the one who practices morphing not manipulate their own physical structure to that of another? How do they do that? They change the djed of their own to that in kind of another. How then can you say bones and dead are -worthless-.”

She was obviously defensive about it. Her whole live she had been looked down upon because her family were maledictors of disreputable sorts, but even normal maledictors were celebrated in certain circles. So his statement kind of pissed her off. “This feather, has the potential for so many things. Wha...where is it?” she started looking around for the feather that rested out of her sight on her dress. As she looked she continued saying, almost crazily to herself “It could make you fly better, it could make you faster, it might sap your age from you, it could help you to see better. Whatever the bird would bless us with is what could be maledicted.”


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

The girl seemed exceptionally pleased when Caesarion did not judge her for her bizarre antics with the bird, which was only really because of their similarities when it came to such easy disposal of animal-life. Not surprisingly, based on her complete social reject demeanor, she was happy that someone finally seemed to resonate with her on at least one thing. Then, Caesarion had to do the unthinkable and ruin all of that with his next words, getting her defensive and agitated. She went on long and hard about how her trade was everything but worthless, and from very early on his suspicions were confirmed: she was a mage, like him. He wanted to interject when she claimed that he knew nothing about magic, but he decided that he would let her go on with her endless prattling until she combusted or something. Then, when she was finished, he would have questions. As it stood though, he tried to learn whatever he could from his successful attempt at making her angry and full of ranting. His theory was proven correct yet again, with the woman saying that they used the Djed of old bones to channel some form of power.

She used the word Maledictor. Caesarion was sure he'd heard it somewhere, but he could not recall. It was most likely spoken in Sahova, as they quite literally knew every form of magic that he could think of - even obscure ones like Animation. "Maledictor," he said, rolling the "R" fancifully as if he were being sarcastic. That was a very interesting word. "Magic school name . . . Malediction?" It was the logical conclusion based on the structure of the word, though he dared not make such an assumption without asking. "Morphing . . . ?" He questioned again. He didn't really know what most of these schools were - he only knew about Shielding, Auristics, Reimancy and Hypnotism to any decent extent. He listened carefully though. Morphers manipulated their physical structure by copying something's Djed. And - bones carried Djed of a creature, thus, was the conclusion she was making that they carried their properties? Their . . . power? If so, then that was amazing - a magic that could steal the power of the dead.

"Why do you need their bones? Research? Do you take their Djed somehow? Or do you make their bones into something?" She mentioned making a necklace out of the feather, earlier, if he remembered correctly. So perhaps they crafted items using this - like, magical artifacts, like the ones in Sahova. So many artifacts, so many secrets, and he always wondered where these artifacts came from and where they went. Was this . . . 'Malediction' the root of many artifacts? If so, he was exceptionally intrigued, and he would have loved to learn the magic if it was as simple as drawing power from old bones. If it was world magic, too, then maybe it was less dangerous? Then again, he really didn't know these things very well.

Her next words were interesting. He didn't really think that he needed to fly better because he wasn't a bird, but moving faster just from a dead bird's feather seemed exceptionally efficient for what little it would cost you. See better? Interesting. Then, she followed by saying that, basically, whatever the bird could do is something a Maledictor could take. And that was profound. Any property could be stolen - a human being could be made into a hybrid of hundreds of things, perfected in form and made into something evolved. He very, very much liked the concept of this magic. "How do you enchant these remains so? Channeling Djed through them? Would that make this a personal magic?" He tilted his head. "Or, world magic . . . ? Do you draw circles? Is it like that weird magic that my ex-boyfriend used to be into?" He sighed, frustrated. He really didn't know much about much beyond his sphere of thought. Then again, that was fine, considering magic was one of the most bizarre and enigmatic subjects. Not many people really knew a single thing about mages, and even mages didn't know much about mages!

[Leeta Snow]

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The boy was patient with her, and that was good. She didn’t like it when people interrupted her. Just her mannerisms were a bit flighty as she spoke. Much like a Nykan she spoke with vibrancy and animation, waving her hands every which way, without concern for whom they hit, especially when berating someone for their stupidity. As she finished she took in a breath and finally looking down under her neck she managed to find the feather.

“Oh…” she snagged it and held onto it now while he questioned her. The playful rolling of his R’s caught her attention. It was almost as if he was being sarcastic to what her whole life was about. Yet the young man, while handsome and debonair could be confused as a muscle bound moron, his correcting tone to her word showed some level of intelligence. That however was countered with the fact he came over to speak with her. He must be a weird one or stupid to be talking to her. That was social suicide really. Splurting out of her mouth she said, “Yes..Malediction. Maledictorrr”

When he asked about morphing it was almost a smack in the face. He truly was dumb she realized. With a groan she fell the rest of the way to the grass in an emotive way as if to display in some theatrical performance that he had slain her. She lay there with her hair fanned out on the grass below, half of it getting dirty upon the newly dug grave of the bird. “...Yes...morphing.” She wanted to show him but she was feeling a bit down still, somewhat still doomed to die here, so what was the point?

He kept bugging her with questions and she patted the grass next to her for him to sit. He was after all so inquisitive then he might as well stay the course. “It is taking patterns, unique designs, specifically working to interpret the djed into a new form. Yes...like your boyfriend, it is a world magic in which you draw circles, however it is not bringing life to anything like animation or some such nonsense.” she sighed, “Let me put it simply for you.” She rolled over to look at him. “You seem like a beautiful sort of man, strong, able, likely great at something in your life. Let us say in theory you are a carpenter. Your whole life has been in carpentry. One day you decide to become a mercenary and get yourself killed. A maledictor can come along…” she makes a popping sound, “Pop out your leg bone and make a club out of it. He etches into the bone designs to bring out your djed into the club. What does he have now? A club that likely could help him in carpentry and probably would help him meet his death if he ever used it in combat. Yet if he made a tool out of your bone to widdle down wood, likely it would be much better than a tool of equal make.” she gestured vaguely, hoping the boy understood. Most mages were reclusive about their magic, but perhaps that’s why she was hated so much, because her family wasn’t; not to mention the way she spoke and looked.

“Now morphing is a whole ‘nother subject, but I don’t see the point. You probably wouldn’t listen anyways. Besides that I’m tired and will probably die soon...so you see. No point.” She was curt and serious about it while maintaining her creepy wistfulness.


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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

Maledictorrrr, Maledictionnn, she sounded. The girl was so eccentric that it was a crime - but he found it hilarious to watch. The fact that she expended the effort to do things like fall into the floor because he didn't know what Morphing was, well, he found it pretty funny. "I lived in Sahova until recently, but I was a slave." He decided to be very honest - even if only so that she would not continue to pointlessly judge him. "As such, I was only exposed to the magic I already knew, and slightly some others that would certainly not make me a risk to my master. But - in the end - I was a risk, and that is why I am here. I did not leave Sahova only after finding out about hordes of magic schools that I might never use. I left swiftly, and without announcement, so as to ensure that no one ever knew I was there." He did not like to get defensive himself, but he figured that he would at least impart the Lady with the wisdom that she couldn't simply judge him for magical ignorance without questioning his reason for such ignorance. "I am a Reimancer. A skilled one at that. That is all I have ever needed." He did not mention that he was a Hypnotist - a good Hypnotist never did. It would make the potential target far too wary of your schemes.

He was interested, though, in whatever Morphing was. From the way she made it sound, it was like shape-shifting. Like those Kelvons . . . Kalwins . . . Keldors? Kelvics? Something like that. Shape-shifting, whatever. He could totally dig the idea of shape-shifting. While he was on one thought though, she returned him back to Malediction, the subject he was the most interested in. Taking patterns, unique designs, she described. That reminded him of something he'd seen too, but he could never quite place his memories into words. He did know of what she spoke of, though. Glyphing, he thought it was called? One of the less uncommon magics. The magics she spoke of were ones that were surely obscure - and probably only common in a place like Sahova.

Learning that it was a World Magic was extremely vital. That meant there was minimal risk associated, which was always exceptionally positive. And, considering the process was as simple as drawing circles, however complex they could be - he didn't imagine that the original drawing work of the process was endangering either. Would this magic be difficult? Probably, all were to some degree. Did he want to learn it? Yes. The more she spoke of it, the more he wanted to learn. Of course, she was still very weird, but that was fine. He'd love to be taught the basics by her - perhaps in exchange for initiation? He didn't know what she'd want . . . if she would want anything at all. Her description, though, was weird. You seem like a beautiful sort of man, strong, able, she said. Why did all of the women in Zeltiva compliment him in such thorough ways? Were they really horny or something? He blinked an eye and tried to ignore her words, disregarding her as another crazy Zeltivan lady. One more to the infinite pile.

Caesarion would never want to be a carpenter.

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Caesarion didn't like the idea of a carpenter signing up as a mercenary.

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Caesarion really didn't like that popping noise she made.

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Her story was really bizarre, like the rest of her, but at least he understood the concept. The skill of the person and perhaps also the way they died. But it didn't just apply to people. It applied to . . . anything. That was what made it very special. "That sounds exceptionally profound," he told her. His face lit up with excitement. He now knew the process of malediction, too, everything except for how to draw the circles! "Will you teach me? I would love to learn. I'd do almost anything. I'd pay you. And you can teach me morphing too?" He turned into, practically, an enthusiastic child in the face of expanding his magical studies. He wasn't able to control his desperation for more potential! "I promise I'd listen. I'm a very diligent student of magic. I've literally trained every day for the past three months." He had progressed a lot, too, at that! Then, of course, his enthusiasm was cut off when she said she was going to die soon. He calmed himself for a moment and raised an eyebrow - "What do you mean? Are you hungry or something? I have a bunch of meat back in my ship. I could give you some before we depart to Riverfall." He nodded, smiling. She wouldn't have to die of hunger at least!

[Leeta Snow]

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It couldn’t be said that Leeta didn’t listen. She curiously watched him speak to her about being a slave. She showed a sign of disgust on her face at the thought of it though it was mild. She didn’t know much about slavery except that if she ever became one she knew she would just be dead. They wouldn’t keep a slave who wouldn’t work. They’d probably feed her to the dogs or something, “Munch munch, there I go...most useless slave ever to be digested into a puddle of p” utrid were her thoughts on the matter and she only got worse. It made sense to her his compulsion to learn now though. As he expressed his character and where he came from the girl began to rip grass out of the ground into a big ball in her hand.

“Slave slave...nothing more dangerous than a slave. Reimancy...fools.” She threw the grass ball from her hand, making it fly every which way above her, coating her in little grass blades. He may have thought she was calling him a fool so she looked to him and said, “What slave master lets their slave know Reimancy? That’s on the same level of stupidity as two people racing through a castle to get to a gate first. The first one person runs as hard as he can through the streets and gets down to the bottom to find that the second person went to the wall and jumped off. While the second one got there first, now his legs have impaled himself into the grass and has a dumb dopey smile on his face.” She reiterated, “That’s what giving reimancy to a slave is like.”

She continued, “But that’s not who you are...no...You are not a slave anymore.” she waved her hand playfully in front of him as if sensing his aura. “No...your name is different now.” she nodded. “Mine is Leeta, what is yours?” she returned to the ground and flopped back to her back, looking up at the blue sky to wait for him to answer her.

As she finished explaining things he really wanted to learn from her. She waved off his questions and his enthusiasm dismissively. When he offered her meat she lifted her head up and said in a less whimsical tone, more serious. “I’m dying, cursed, lying here on this ground and you offer me meat? Meat?” she took some grass and ripped it out of the ground once more and tossed it playfully at him. “Never offer a woman meat for services…”she paused, “What kind of meat is it?” she was kind of hungry. Before he could answer she seriously waved him off. “No! No meat...and please...if I’m to die, I’d rather not it be on a full stomach. Let me writhe in my misery. Fate...fate..No...No?...You will take me to Riverfall for payment, far from this cursed land. It beckons me now, like tendrils of evil seeking my death.” she was not joking or whimsical now, and there was fear in her eyes. ”It craves after me and if I don’t leave it will find me. Yes...that is my payment.”

With that all seriousness left her face and she flopped back down onto her back. “And you have to talk to me, more than once. And...you must call me Miss Snow when we are in formal company or I’m just not going to respond.” She looked to him inquisitively and placed an arm out toward him sympathetically. “Are you okay with that? Count to ten and respond. Think.” She didn’t want to offend him by her having him call her Miss Snow. It almost seemed like a demand she would give to a slave, but it was a matter of respect. A bit of respect in her life she never had before. Already she could see fashion, money, and freedom from this life. If only he would say yes.

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Other's Words -- My Words -- My Thoughts

[Caesarion]

Creepy seemed to turn into crazy when she started to talk next. He held off on correcting her until she was finished speaking with her . . . comparison, with the gate and the castle, one taking their time and one jumping off a wall? Impaled? Grotesque. This woman was beyond all others when it came to absolute bizarreness. He was surprised by how well she performed the role of being a creepy little witch. "I was not always a slave. I was actually born the richest of the rich, in Ravok, which is one of the most beautiful cities in this world. That is where I learned Reimancy - from an instructor, Atia Lark, a friend of my mother's." Not that she was a friend of his - she was snobbish and very much a piece of shyke. Telemaran, though, his master . . . that was a new subject altogether. "My master did know I was a Reimancer, actually, and he did in fact still buy me despite that. He simply thought he could control me. He thought a slave with no connections would fear Sahova more than they desired freedom. I did not. So I drove him mad." Quite literally, actually. As for her comparison, he decided to simply raise his eyebrow and look at her funny. "That's... interesting," he said. He tried to dissect the reason for her macabre comparison, or how it was even relevant to a slave with Reimancy, but to no avail. He decided to let her willfully be negligent of her own ridiculous comparisons.

She was very dramatic. His offer of food was turned away as if it was so ridiculous. Food was a valuable commodity, and from the build of half the people in this city, he was sure they needed a bit more of it. If she didn't want food, then he would be sure to offer her something else - coin for example. He didn't care, he only wanted to make sure that he was given lessons in exchange for something. Caesarion always wanted to learn more magics. Always. "I'm sorry for my offer, then-" he started, before she asked him what sort of meat it was. "Wolf and hare," he said. Preserved as best he could from Sahova. But then she went off again, no... no meat! and some other ridiculous dramatics about how she was going to writhe in her misery rather than be full and perhaps a bit healthier. Fate? She said that word. And then . . . he found it, his golden opportunity. She offered that he take her in exchange for her magic. But he was still curious as to her motives. "Okay - really, is Zeltiva actually so cursed?" he asked. The city seemed pretty nice - he wasn't sure why she was going on about how it was going to kill her. Maybe something really bad happened here, though. Maybe they discriminated against mages? More likely, though, she was just a drama queen. Wasn't sure if she'd survive in Riverfall either with the way her attitude was.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't let he try. "I too am leaving a wretched past behind, and I will help you if that's what you want. But-" He crossed his arms. "Only if you teach me Malediction and Morphing to the fullest of your capabilities. And be warned that my caravan is comprised entirely of males, meaning you're sort of a rare commodity as far as our travel group is concerned." He smiled slightly. He wasn't implying that they'd go head over heels and try to sleep with her, in fact they probably wouldn't because she was another creepy mage joining the fray, but there would be some interesting scenarios due to such. "We leave to Riverfall in a few hours. I have two horses I bought yesterday morning - a Ravok Bloodbane named Vladimir and a GIldling named Actaeon. If you would like the Gildling for personal usage, then let me know, and I will lend them to you until we arrive at Riverfall." Or if Morphers could just become a horse instead, that worked too, though he wasn't quite sure how half these bizarre magics worked. But - his acceptance was clear, and he would allow her to come to the city of the uniquely crafted blue men if that was what she so desired - if Zeltiva was so accursed, whatever reason she had for that belief.

It wasn't really so harsh a payment, anyhow. Magical grimoire could often be thousands of Mizas, but she was only asking for passage, which was far cheaper even if paid from his own pocket. He knew he may go into debt as a result, but that was fine. He had been in that situation before, and he survived. "I'll talk to you frequently, especially if you're to be my magical instructor. I will also initiate you into Reimancy if you so desire." He nodded his head. Initiation into Reimancy was something extremely valuable and sought after, though on the flip side it was also extremely dangerous, so whether she wanted it or not was entirely to her own prerogative. "I will call you Miss Snow, then. Your full name is Leeta Snow? How charming. I am . . . Caesarion Panthos. You may call me Caesarion or Mister Panthos." He didn't really care, as he was equally attached to either name, family or given. He realized though that she broke her rule - he didn't wait ten seconds at all, completely disregarding that she ever said that. Whatever, she'd have to deal with it. "We are set to leave," he said. "And you will come with us, Miss Snow." He took her hand and grinned. "Is there anything you would like to do before you leave?" Just in case she wanted to murder more birds or something. He didn't ever know what a crazy mage wanted - he barely ever knew what he wanted.