Closed [Moritz Residence]A Home Found[Caspian]

[Moritz Craven]

1 Summer 523

One thing Moritz realized as he packed up the last of his things and left his room in the Drunken Fish for possibly the last time, was that he really did not own that many things. He kept his backpack with him, which stowed various items. Other than that, he did not really leave much in his room.

Some spare weapons, training and live, which he did not carry around all of the time. His remaining sword gifted by his mother back in Lhavit... He also had a few odd pieces of clothing, belts and such... Some tools he used once in a while, like his mortar and pestle he bought for making soulmist.... Other than those things and a few odds and ends Moritz really did not own much.

Of course, thinking on this as he hefted the last of his stuff into his pack or onto his person such as wearing his sword with his harness for weapons, he had come from Lhavit and had not really bought too many things while he was in Syka... Perhaps then he would do well to buy some things now to make his new residence feel more homey.

Perhaps it was how armed he was, wearing multiple blades and daggers visibly so as to more easily carry them, but for once he managed to make it across Sunberth without being accosted by anyone. Still he had to stay alert and on guard the whole time, even if it was a relatively short trip from the docks area where the Drunken Fish was to where his house was by the Dust Bed Ridge.

Once he crossed through the gate marking the edge of his land he settled down a bit, but still kept himself on guard. He was on his property, but he had only freshly made his home into an Arch structure. He was unsure how fast that would go based on what Infinity had told him back in Lhavit, but the building certainly had not been fully taken over. And while he could communicate in a manner to the place, it was all very simplistic. No words, only feelings and such. In time he was sure the place would be able to do more, but it was nowhere near that yet. And while he was certain he could do more to aid the place once he grasped the new magic better, as of yet his own abilities were limited. He wanted to try feeding it energy to help speed its growth like Infinity had told him could be done, but he had no idea how to do so.

With that he let out a sigh, heading inside of his house and through the front area. Planning to stow most of the gear he was carrying in the cottage near the back, if he was not interrupted Moritz would unload things and try to find a place for them all one by one while trying to feel the building awakening around him.

WC: 501

[Caspian]

As Caspian exits the Blood Pits, he realizes that perhaps the events of the day were not what one would typically call romantic.

This is the third time he’s been here in the past fortnight, and if he had his way he’d never come here again. It’s all Taroko, and Caspian’s propensity to agree to every proposition thrown his way. Yes, even the one which involved a broken ladder and a medically unadvisable amount of –

“I’m going to be away for a week,” Taroko says, interrupting his train of thought.

The memory of what they’d done with the ladder still on his mind – the yellowing bruises on his ankles reminder enough – Caspian schools his expression into one of neutrality. “Doing what?”

Doing who being the more honest question, but – Caspian’s not nearly confident enough about them to go there yet.

“Do you really want to know?”

Whether it’s the question spoken or the one kept mum –

Yeah, he’s not entirely ready for answers for either.

“You’ll find me?” Caspian says. Behind them is the loud roar of the crowd, the clanging of steel swords. When they left someone had just been hacked in the neck, but not entirely beheaded, which Taroko had deemed insufficiently entertaining, and the resulting boredom had compelled them to leave.

“I’ll find you,” Taroko replies.

The reciprocity – bare, almost flippant, but categorically present – sparks warmth in Caspian’s chest, like a little flame cradled within a lantern, his ribs the glass protecting it against an ensuing storm. They walk side by side, headed east through the Den. As they pass the Clinic, two men hurry past them and through the door, a third man unconscious and bleeding on a stretcher between them. Outside, a woman in a tattered dress wails and paces. They’re away from the Pits, yet the smell of blood lingers in these streets. But even a site of healing isn’t a place of sanctuary, for just steps from it a drunk man – yes, even at this time of day – lurches forward from his cross-legged position on the floor, grabbing at Caspian’s ankle.

Yelping, Caspian staggers back, stumbling painfully to the ground. Kicking wildly, he misses, then connects with the man’s head, but the man only clutches harder, reaches for jacket and the pouch of mizas he expects to find there.

Caspian reaches for his dagger – but Taroko, still on his feet, is faster, delivering another swift kick to the man’s skull. The man crumples, his grip relenting, and Taroko hoists Caspian up. Other eyes are peering at them – from cracked-open windows, alleys, the sliver of darkness of a door ajar.

And Taroko – larger and wilder, and so good at not giving a petch – looks at them all and roars.

It’s wordless, formless – but he looks absolutely mad, a whirlwind in human form. To drive the point home, he draws his own dagger, stalks forward, and drives it down into the groaning vagrant’s chest. Rearing up, he roars again, signaling to all who are watching that if they don’t let them pass freely, the same end is waiting.

They’re near enough to Daggerhand territory that the stunt takes them there without having to be accosted again. Taroko walks him all the way to the edge.

“Thanks,” Caspian says, that warmth he’s been harboring flickering ever harder.

“You need to get better at looking after yourself, Custard,” Taroko says. “What would you do without me?”

Guess you’d better not go away for a whole week, then? Caspian wants to say, but he tamps the words back down.

They part wordlessly, leaving Caspian at the border of his stepfather’s association’s territory.

Feeling out of sorts – the grip of the vagrant man still a ghost around his ankle – he wanders to quieter pastures, further east to the strip of land between the city and the sea.

There’s not much out here save for the Dust Bed cemetery - nothing of much note except for –

He remembers, suddenly.

Did Moritz get around to building that house?

And there in the distance – he squints. That structure a ways off, that definitely wasn’t there before.

Even if it isn’t Moritz, he’s deathly curious, and it can’t hurt to look.

Upon reaching the building, he slinks forward and down into a crouch, pressing himself against the side. Drawing up slowly and carefully, he peeks over the closest window ledge and into the building -

And spots a stocky figure with wildly vibrant hair, carrying a load of items the weight of which would have made Caspian stagger.

But of course for Moritz, must not be a problem.

“Hey!” he calls out, waving excitedly, the sudden sight of a familiar face enough to push away his many conflicting thoughts about Taroko. “Moritzzzz! Don’t freak out! It’s me!” He squints into the house, peering around in wonder. “Holy petch, is this your house?”

[Moritz Craven]

Having arrived at his cottage, Moritz was focused on unpacking things when he heard someone yelling followed by his name. Confused and wondering who would be invading his land so soon after his home was finished, but not totally surprised as he had expected people to come in time, he headed over to the window to see.

When he did look he found someone he knew, and so felt a bit less surprised. Particularly when he recalled exploring the land not that far from the same spot with the man for a possible house location. Caspain, someone he had first met at the Outpost but had eventually ended up meeting again once he arrived in Sunberth. While he did not think the man was outright good or honorable, he did have some level of trustworthiness... Well, at least compared to most people he had met in Sunberth... Which admittedly was not saying much. But he did not expect the man to stab him in the back, literally or metaphorically... Well unless he had a fairly good reason, like a direct and obvious pay date. So long as he kept that from being true, he felt reasonably safe with the man.

With a gentle wave of recognition to make it clear he had seen the man, Moritz pointed at the front of the house and then went back to his things. There he took off a few items like his sword and daggers peppered on his body which had been easier to carry while so equipped, and headed out of the door of the cottage. From Caspian's perspective Moritz would vanish deeper within the house, no longer visible from the window. In truth he was just moving into a deeper more central hub part of the residence, shutting the door to his cottage type section, and entering the training area which did not have any windows.

From there he shortly made his way to the door on the front side of that room, and headed through that door to another room that was the front most entrance area.That common area led off into other parts of the house, along with leading to the front exit and entrance. Or, more pointedly, the front door. Seemingly as good a place as any to welcome his first guest, Moritz opened the front door. If Caspian had understood he would tell the man to come inside and welcome him into his front entrance or common area. If he did not the Kelvic would head around the house to find the man, and in the end direct him back tot he front entrance so he could come inside rather than wandering around outside yelling through windows like a crazy person.

Assuming Moritz got Caspian inside he would shut the door, and wave his hand about a bit to gesture at the room as a whole with its doors, walls, furniture, and art.

"Yes Caspian, this is my home. Welcome. Actually your my first guest... Well actually, even more actually, I just moved in... Or am moving in... Just cleared out of my room at the Drunken Fish, and was sorting out my stuff I brought from there. Although would you be a guest, seeing as I did not ask you to come here... But I guess I did invite you in, so that would make you a guest... What brings you over here to this area though? I expected someone to come by before long, but I wasn't expecting you. Just wandering by chance, or are you here on business?"

From the front area it was clear there were further doors leading into other parts of the house, but since all where closed it was not clear from there what else the building had inside or if it was just one big odd somewhat irregular long box shaped building with a somewhat decent entrance.

As he thought on this he tried to think towards his new house, filling it with happy thoughts, speaking in his mind but unsure if it would understand... As he did he thought simple thoughts, such as... Don't worry house. Your beautiful, curves and corners and all... But as he thought this he only felt a weak connection, unsure if this was because he was a bit away from the place he had started the Arch spreading, his cottage part of the building, or if it was just weak from being newly infused. Or perhaps it was simply his own tenuous grasp on the new ability as an Archi mage.

WC: 758

[Caspian]

A big grin splits across Caspian’s face when he sees Moritz waving. “What is uuuuup, my friend? Hey, wait, where are you -“ Perfunctory and pretty to the point - yep, Moritz indeed. A shred of him wonders, perhaps, if he’d misunderstood the gesture and Moritz’s retreating was a sign that he isn’t welcome - but he suspects he’s in the clear, and forges on ahead around the house.

When he meets Moritz at the door, he restrains himself from vocalizing that he thinks the kid has grown even larger since they last met. Or maybe it’s just the effect of having an entire house arching around him, a domain entirely his own. Caspian’s more than a little impressed.

Upon following Moritz inside, his eyes flicker over the interior. “Hell, Moritz. This is, like. Very proper. And real, and -“ He frowns, trailing off. “Wait, how long has it been since we last saw each other?” It couldn’t be that much of a gap. He tries to the mental math; fails, and relies on Moritz’s best estimation. “This was scrub grass and stones then. An empty field. You built this yourself? No way, I mean - did you hire someone? Someones, as in plural? Because you couldn’t have…” The furniture, the art on the walls. The multiple rooms that though he can’t see all at once, he would bet are just as appointed and complete as this one.

Moritz’s question as to the reason for his presence reminds him of where he’d been that morning. And who he’d been with. “Ah, you know I like a good aimless promenade.” Well, maybe Moritz doesn’t - which is fair - and belatedly he realizes how dodgy that answer is, and that perhaps it isn’t the best foot to put forward when one is someone’s inaugural house guest. “I was at the Blood Pits with an old, er, colleague of mine. Your place smells way better than that one, by the way, so congrats on that. Gods, it’s like an entirely different world here. Anyway. Left the Pits and just needed to go for a walk, somewhere quiet. My head’s a bit overwhelmed lately, things are complicated with - yeah. Not here on business, no, though I do have something to skip off to tonight. That business being fairly complicated too, err…” He can’t quite recall if Moritz is entirely aware of what he does for a living. The last time Moritz had seen him in action was when he’d been tracking down a runaway girl at the Outpost, and back then he’d been a private investigator. Nowadays he’s a thief, if one has to put a word to it. And he has the feeling that if Moritz hadn’t necessarily approved of his more legitimate means of employment - the private investigator - he won’t go in much for what goes on now.

A certain look crosses Moritz’s face - or perhaps just a form of quietness Caspian hasn’t seen on him before. “You alright there?” he prods lightly.

[Moritz Craven]

Moritz, heading to the front door of his house, pondered for a few moments why Caspian was so happy to see him. As he had acknowledged him the man had responded with a bit grin, but it was odd to the Kelvic. Were they that good of friends? Was he lonely? Or was he just excited to see him there for some reason? Maybe it was an act, a fake smile? But if it was fake, what was it meant to achieve? He tried to reason it out, why the man had reacted as he had, but by the time he reached the front door he still had not puzzled it out and so pushed the thought aside.

When he invite the man inside and they spoke inside of his front entrance area he saw Caspian taking in the sights and listened as he commented on it. Compared to his own home this place seemed rather small, but compared to most houses in Sunberth perhaps it was fancy... But even still, why pay to have a improper house built?

"When did we last meet? It would be about a season ago from today. Remember, today is the first, and we met on my birthday the first of spring which is a season ago from today the first of summer. So yeah, right at a season."

Looking at what Caspian seemed focused on, some random art which seemed about as nice as the furniture in the room for seating, Moritz simply shrugged in response.

"I mean, why would I pay to have a place not be proper. If I'm gonna get a place, and I can afford it, I want a decent abode. Not some half collapsed rotting shack. What else are savings for... Though this place ate up pretty much all of those... As for building it, I didn't build it. Father Manowar told me to go to Goldfinger, I gave him the money and he got it all sorted. The land, building the house, everything. I just signed off and paid. Not that not paying that guy seemed an option. I'm not the sort to not pay my debts, but he seems the sort to be especially bad to try that with. So no loan for me, I've paid it clear. And he got it built and sorted. And here it is."

Looking around the room, Moritz did appreciate Caspians response, it was a bit amazing a house was here that a season ago did not exist. Of course the building had taken less than a season, and he was a bit foggy on how many people had been involved... But if he was going to make a permanent home, let alone an Arch structure... Well he was certainly going to give it a proper starting base.

When Caspian responded to his question Moritz arched an eyebrow at the man, once more becoming suspicious due to his words. He was just wandering around and happened upon his newly built house? Looking back it did not seem impossible since he had been here when he had first looked around the area, but it seemed unlikely he would return right as he moved in... His other words while less suspicious were more confusing.

"I have no idea what your talking about. To be honest, I don't really know that many places in Sunberth. Never heard of the Blood Pits, but I'm assuming based on the name its not too nice... But I guess its good you ended up here. I was gonna see about leaving a note or something with Father Manowar if you visited the Drunken Fish again, but this saves me the trouble."

While perhaps not a friend, by Sunberth standards he was friendly, and was one of the few people he was not afraid of outright. Was he perfect? No. Was he outright bad... Moritz did not think so. And that was a good enough starting point, he felt. Thinking further on it he was also under the impression the man knew he could use magic, and certainly knew he was a Kelvic... Though it had been ages since they had that conversation at the Outpost, so he was unsure what the man remembered. He was also unsure how he felt on such things. Magic of course being hated by many in the city, made bringing it up awkward to say the least and possibly deadly at worst.

As Caspian noticed something with Moritz as he tried to mentally communicate with his house, Moritz realized he would need to say something. Rather than answer his question though, he instead asked one back. The man hadn't been in Sunberth when they had met, right? So perhaps he did not hold the common view of Sunberth...

"Ah, to be honest, its kind of hard to explain... But I suppose I've got a question for you, now that we are alone and in private. I was wondering.... How do you feel about magic? And what do you know of it? I don't think I've ever heard your thoughts on it."

WC: 849

[Caspian]

Sunberth is littered with construction projects half-cooked and fully abandoned, and plenty of the ones that have made it all the way to the finish line look like the end result of a child playing with wood chips and plaster. There’s that Moritz-style bluntness, again, that Caspian has for some reason always found charming – of course the young fellow would simplify such matters in his head. Either a house is done or not, and if it’s most certainly going to have been done right, as if the possibility for any other outcome held no weight in his world.

“The Blood Pits aren’t too far from here, actually,” Caspian says. It’s a bit surprising that Moritz hasn’t heard of them – he worked in a tavern, after all, which are the sorts of places notorious for being full of chatter – but he supposes Moritz is the type to keep his head down and focus on his job. Not the most sparkling conversationalist either, which may not have invited said informative chatter. And, as evidenced by the impressive house around them, he’s been keeping himself pretty busy. “Not very nice at all, no, and accordingly some of the not-very-nice-people in my life think it an appropriate place to go for brunch. It’s the closest thing, in a way, that Sunberth has to an art and culture scene. People settle scores out there, almost always in fights to the death, with the very charming addition of spectators betting mizas on them. You know…” He casts an eye up and down Moritz. Has it really been just a season since they last saw each other? Has the fellow grown yet again? “I think you’d do decently enough, if you ever found yourself there. Well, one day. But you’ve definitely got the bones to survive that sort of thing.”

At the revelation that Moritz had considered leaving a note for him, he grins. “You were thinking about me? Premeditating, even? Gods, Moritz, I knew you liked me. My sister wasn’t sure, you know, and she was willing to bet her shiniest bit of chain against me.”

The topic of magic gives Caspian pause. Not to do with the subject itself; simply because he hadn’t seen the questions coming. “I… can’t say I have any feelings in particular. I can’t say I know much either. They’re just means to ends, aren’t they, just like everything else and…” He trails off, realizing this is a train of thought that isn’t very well focused and perhaps wouldn’t be very coherent for Moritz. “Sunberth is a place where one is meant to do what one pleases,” he says more firmly, and he believes that fully, even if something as mysterious as magic might give him reflexive apprehension. “That includes magic users, for me.” This earns Moritz another curious once-over. And in a very new light, which for him is… unusual. For the most part he tends to get people right the first time, at least the overarching parts of who they are and what they’re about. “Why, is there something you ought to tell me?”

[Moritz Craven]

As Moritz eyed Caspian, he wondered on what all he had told the man before. He was fairly certain he had told him he was a Kelvic, but was uncertain on other things. Had he even been an Iraso when they first met? If not, had he not noticed the sudden change to his eyes after he became one? Had he asked and Moritz had forgotten? To be fair it was more obvious when his magic was active and he was Pathfinding, but it was still a noticeable change to his eyes when not active.

Even now when he was not using it his eyes had the same sunburst pattern of colors around the Okomo pupil as he'd had since he was initiated into Pathfinding. A pattern that visibly glowed when the magic was active. Still if he was to examine Caspian, let alone try to memorize his particular djed signature, he would need to spend time examining him with his eyes magic active.

The more he thought about such things the more visibly distracted he became, which did not help since Caspian already thought he was distracted while thinking on his house. Still, could he trust him to tell him anything more?

Trying to focus on his words he tore his attention back to him, hearing of the blood pits. From what he learned his original guess was close, it was a place of fighting and death. Not a place he planned to visit anytime soon.

"I don't think there is any shame in running if you are out matched. And I always try to keep that in mind, running as a last resort. But it doesn't sound like that would be an option there. I don't think I have any plans of going there. I'm not weak, but there are many stronger than me. And I don't seek out Dira. Besides, what would I have to gain by going there? Even if I was ready to go, which I'm not, it doesn't seem like I'd gain anything by going. Instead I'd only be risking something, with nothing to gain by that risk. Seems silly to me. Maybe others find it worth more, or have more to gain by going than I do and it makes sense for them."

Letting out a sigh Moritz thought fondly of his past, and the many instructors of combat. Mostly woman, now that he thought on it... All of whom had been all to happy to show how skilled they were while tossing him around and leaving him bruised but a small bit stronger and more honed in combat. He was not one to quite or give in, and he was nothing but dedicated... Some might say obstinate... But regardless, he kept at things when he decided to do so, and was still trying to train and hone himself as he'd promised when meeting Wysar.

As Caspian grin and reaction to Moritz planning to leave him a message, the Kelvic grew a bit confused, and answered in his normal deadpan fashion to what he thought the man was saying.

"Hmmm... Nah, sorry, I'm into ladies. Same as my mother. Or at least I assume she is, since she was getting married to one last I saw her. Never did hear how that went.. As for you... Well to be honest, I don't know I'd say I like you, but I certainly don't dislike you. And compared to most in Sunberth, you seem a bit more trustworthy. Maybe since you've not been here your whole life. I think when we first met you were elsewhere right? At least I don't think you'd actively betray me, unless you had a really good reason for it. Which admittedly is a low bar, but by this cities standards its pretty amazing. So I trust you marginally more than most of the other people around here, in that I don't trust most of them at all. That seems like something worth fostering and growing, and letting said person know when I get a new house seems normal enough of a step in that direction."

After that confusing answer topics turned to magic, and Caspians feelings about them. His response, when he finally did give one, if nothing else seemed more open minded than most if not all Sunberthians, which was a good sign he supposed. Plus the man knew he was a Kelvic, and hadn't gone out and used that for his own gain. At least, not that Moritz knew of. Which also seemed to be a good mark in his book, and a sign the man could keep secrets.

Smiling slightly Moritz shook his head, meeting the mans eyes with a face slightly showing the start of mischief.

"I wouldn't say that. If anything, I'd say there are many things I shouldn't tell you, rather than something I ought to tell you. But seeing as you know some, I suppose some more wouldn't hurt... "

Focusing on his eyes for a moment, Moritz willed his Iraso sight to expand, and as he did the same concentrated djed began to come alive leaving the sunburst pattern around his iris with a prominent glow. If Caspian had not noticed the markings before, he certainly would then unless he was completely unobservant. Once that was done Moritz looked at Caspian, while also looking AT Caspian. Where before he was seeing him, his outward appearance, arms and legs and clothes and such, now he was seeing HIM. His djed, his djed body, and the pattern that wove into the unique Djed Signature that was Caspian. While focusing on the man as such, looking into and through his being as only an Iraso could, the Kelvic began to speak again.

"I can't recall if I told you before. But my mother is a Spiritist. That has always seemed to be her main focus, though perhaps she has others as well. She also taught me a bit of that. Its one reason I'm so comfortable with cemeteries, I grew up around ghosts. As for this, my eyes, well that is another thing entirely. Honestly kind of hard to explain. Did you know every person has their own unique... Presence about them. No two are the same, but you can learn a lot about someone from it. Most can't see it though. There are some other stuff, but that seems to be a good place to start. "

Once he was done explaining a few things Moritz grew silent, calm and neutral as he eyed the man and peered into and examined his being, waiting to see how he would respond.

WC: 1,105

[Caspian]

At Moritz’s opinion on running, Caspian laughs. “My stepfather feels quite the opposite, as there’s far too many stories about me turning tail when things got hairy, and he and the rest of the family made sure there was enough shame to go around.” Moseying around casually, looking overtly comfortable for someone who’s just wandered into the place, he plops down onto one of the seats in the room. “And you’re right, one can’t simply throw in the towel at the Blood Pits. I’ve seen people panic before the bell is even rung. But they don’t get more than five steps before someone in the audience guts them. I remember, once, there was even an archer somewhere up in the crowd, sending arrows right through the skulls of anyone trying to bolt. Real sniper type. At first I thought he’d been hired by whoever runs the Pits, but – no, it was just someone trying to have a bit of fun. Of course no one challenged him on it. On account of the very precise arrows to the skull.”

Moritz’s misunderstanding of his intention with the word like amuses him greatly. The version Moritz has in mind isn’t what he’d insinuated at all, but he feels it’s funnier to leave it as it is – so he does. “Your mother sounds like a woman of many layers,” he says good-naturedly, crossing one leg jauntily over the other.

That playfulness dampens greatly as Moritz goes on to answer his question regarding magic – and then his eyes change. All at once – the further the answer develops – he feels himself tense, and the foot he’d been absentmindedly tapping in the air slows to a halt.

“They’re like…” Caspian peers at the Kelvic’s eyes in wonder. “…like stars, like the aurora in Avanthal.” They feel that way, at least, to him, and his thoughts leave his mouth before he can stop them. As Moritz looks at him, he senses the Kelvic must be seeing more than he’s letting on.

And that thought –

Yeah.

Pairing that with remembering Moritz had let on that his mother dealt with the dead –

It sends a chill up his spine.

“Um. Right. So.” Caspian shoots to his feet, pacing the room. He can tell he’s getting frantic, and he’s running a hand through his hair, all the while schooling himself into not working himself into a frenzy. Because, well. That would just be rude given that he had just a minute ago asserted this was something that wouldn’t upset him.

He pauses. Pivots sharply to face Moritz. Gestures wordlessly.

Finds his words again.

“Your eyes, so. I mean – so when you met me. Like. You could see my… presence? Even then?”

Having to retroactively recolor his experiences with Moritz is a bit perturbing. He just doesn’t like not knowing, having the rug pulled out from under him in a sense. Even if that rug, he has to try and convince himself, shouldn’t be that important.

“Sorry, just. I mean, I was kind of kidding when I said do you have anything you ought to tell me? Not kidding, exactly, I guess we’d call it teasing, except maybe – I wasn’t, I suppose I was pretty serious, because, well – I know you’re serious! Like, all the time. I just didn’t expect – “

He pauses, gestures uselessly again, runs his hands through his mussed hair. Looks around furtively, as if there are people with their ears pressed on the other side of the walls. “Can you, like, do more magic?” he whispers. “Right now?”

[Moritz Craven]

Moritz nodded along at Caspians words, understanding what the man said about his father and thoughts on running away. He himself felt no shame in running, but he understood others might. Or that putting on a brave face was worth more to them than the injury or danger of staying. It made no sense whatsoever to Moritz, as he would much rather flee and be thought less of than die, but then he was also unlikely to put himself in such a situation to begin with.

"I get other people might feel that way, but it hasn't ever made sense to me. In my mind better to run off and fight another day. Such as once you have trained or have better odds of winning. At least compared to going into a fight you are sure you will lose, and just hoping the other person is merciful. That seems rather foolish to me..."

Hearing the man speak about a skilled archer taking a man out by surprise Moritz was reminded of his own vivid dreams he had seasons ago, of seeing from the perspective of a bowman killing people... It was one of many odd things to have happened while he had been in Syka.

"Yeah, I definitely won't be fighting there any time soon. Maybe once I learn to catch arrows mid flight. But pretty sure that is a ways off."

Once things pressed on to more serious matters, namely Moritz revealing some aspects of his magic, the man to Moritz slight surprise seemed quite flustered. He had partially been expecting the man to freak out or overreact, but also partially had expected from past encounters that the man would keep calm and cool about things. In truth he seemed pretty flustered by the sudden reveal of magic, and very confused. Moritz knew the man did not always listen well, but when it came to magic being revealed this seemed even more true as he appeared to Moritz to have only parsed small bits of what he had said and thus misunderstood things greatly.

Canting his head a bit Moritz inspected the mans djed and body, watching as he at once seemed to freeze in place, while being full of energy waiting to be released and soon taking to pacing around as he spoke. It was an odd trick. In his djed pattern though Moritz did not notice any change, but then emotions were not something he could sense by looking at someone in his Iraso sight.

The word Avanthal seemed to stir some memory in Moritz mind, but off the top of his head he could not place it. He assumed it was some word he had only heard once or twice or in passing, and so was not sure right away what it meant. But he felt almost sure he had heard it before.

When the man did finally speak Moritz simply grinned at him and shook his head, trying to work out how he had gotten those ideas.

"Uh, what? What are you talking about. When have I ever walked up to you with my eyes glowing like this? I felt like it was pretty obvious, what with my eyes glowing all of a sudden, but its not an all the time thing. Only when I make it active. And when I do, my eyes go like this here. Which I'm pretty sure you would have noticed before, right? Once I was initiated the markings stay, but they only glow when the magic is active like now."

Letting out another sigh, Moritz tried to work out how to explain things, and in the end decided to go to his old tried and true method of referencing colors, pointing at his own glowing eyes as he referenced "this thing here".

"Like I said, this thing here, its hard to explain. And I meant that literally, its hard to explain to someone who doesn't have eyes like this. Presence might not be the best word for it... More like... Well just bear in mind its not exactly this, but the closest I could get is... Imagine everyone just sees in black and white, no colors. But you can see in colors. All the shades and hues, all letting you know things. But imagine trying to explain those colors to someone who can't see any colors, or who was blind. It'd be hard right? Well it basically works like that. I can see things, these extra colors you cannot see, when my eyes are active. Otherwise I just see normal. And when I say presence, I mean more like... A unique coloring that marks you as you. Mostly that anyways. There is a bit more to it, but that is most of it. No two people look quite the same, that's what I meant when I said it was your unique presence. If you give me a bit of time, and I memorize your "color", I'd be able to recognize you any time if needed. I could probably even track you down say if you got abducted or something, if I found a good place to start where you had been. Its tricky though, and like I said its all kind of hard to explain. That's about the best I can explain it without you being able to see as I do. Although tracking you down has more to do with another aspect of things these eyes let me see."

As he mentioned tracking him down Moritz turned his focus for a moment, looking at the pathway Caspian had been walking. In the short time he had been here with his pacing he had moved around quite a bit, and so he could see quite a few pathways overlapping out behind the man. Being fresh these were easy to see, and if he traced them back, cutting out the giant overriden mass of his pacing, he could see the pathway leading back to the front entrance and leading outside. His gaze reaching the door after tracking him a bit he turned his eyes back to the man himself, focusing on his djed body and uniqueness to try and memorize him. That waft of color there, that swirl in that direction over here... Each little nuance and bit that marked Caspian as Caspian and divided him from other people.

Once both of them had finished talking, Moritz speech clearly much calmer and steadily paced than Caspian's, he listened as the man finally calmed down and furtively tried to ask another question. This one also seemed a bit humorous to the Kelvic, leaving him unsure what the man thought magic was.

"Sorry to repeat but... Uh... What? What exactly do you think magic is? Like... What are you wanting? I'll be honest, most of the magic I know isn't really visible at all to other people. Spiritism is all about dealing with the undead and ghosts. I can make soulmist if you want, though I would need some food and stuff as ingredients. But honestly I've not practiced the magic much, so I'm not too good. As for my eyes, well I can work those well enough, but visibly when I use it... Well this is it. My eyes glow when they are active... And that's it. So all me using it will look like is me staring at stuff, possibly stuff you can't see or thats not visible to anyone with normal eyes. And.... Yeah, other stuff I know, not really much more visible..."

Thinking on it Moritz absentmindedly whispered under his breath, though loud enough that Caspian would likely hear if he was paying close attention.

"I mean... He certainly can't see me talking to a living building, that is even less visible than my eye glowing for this..."

His eyes still aglow, showing Moritz still had his djed sight active, the Kelvic continued his work at examining the mans djed and thus technically "doing" magic the entire time.

WC: 1,330

[Caspian]

The explanation Moritz gives him about his Iraso eyes, it – makes sense. Sort of. Admittedly it does. Caspian’s following the thread Moritz is weaving well enough, so the feeling of being overwhelmed is more to do with his being suddenly pressed into accepting a new truth about this recurring person in his life. And it’s a heady, heavy truth, the kind that get people killed if they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But what’s so different about, say, his magic dagger Obfuscate, tucked right now inside his jacket?

Or the painting in his apartment that he’s had since Gods-know-when, from Ravok, the contents of which change depending, he’s determined, on his own mood? It even shifts before his eyes some nights, when the effects of the drugs he’s taken begin to ebb, and he comes down from his high; one misstep into the wrong kind of memory and the sunny, jolly feeling the night’s ale filled him with suddenly sours, and the painting’s sea and sky churn and grow stormy. If he’s particularly hungover and grumpy the following morning, the waters turn choppy and frothy.

Once, he’d accidentally realized it was his late mother’s birthday, and a dark cloud split by lightning had occluded almost the entirety of the painting, save for the end of the shore.

The world is full of things he doesn’t fully understand and can’t explain, yet simply are; since the beginning of his existence he’s had a mother who could turn into a Fox, and a sister who can become a Raven at will.

The thought calms him –

Until he wonders out loud – “How many other people know about this? Look, I can’t tell you what to do, but – Gods, Moritz, I hope you’re being careful.” At once he resents himself for – sounding as if he’s scolding, practically a parent. Which is a foreign notion, given how solitary and irresponsible he knows himself to be. But he doesn’t want to find out Mortiz has been hurt one day. And he especially – his mind racing here – doesn’t want to find himself strung up simply for association.

“Look, admittedly I come from people who aren’t very well informed or educated, so – I can’t say I understand magic very much at all. And I am being to suspect,” he adds sheepishly, “that the man I once saw on a street corner multiplying mizas as if they were rabbits was simply a charlatan. I – I don’t know, can magic change the weather? Someone could grow crops to full maturity before your eyes, maybe? Bring water from the earth in the middle of a desert, in the event of drought? Sing someone, through magic, into deep sleep? Slip the breath right out of your lungs? Blind someone with a wave of a hand and a word? Maybe these are old wives’ tales. Something to get your kids to shut up and behave. Or just wishful thinking. Well – what’s soulmist?”

The more he turns it over - is there any matter at all, then, if Moritz can pull some tricks with his eyes? If he can perform this soulmist as he’s described? Caspian could turn invisible this very second, if he grabbed his Obfuscate dagger and held very still. And is there anything wrong to be had with all that?

He feels more sure of this, that there’s nothing to be afraid of – until Moritz whispers to himself about speaking to the building.

“Uh. Moritz. What was that about the building?” Without having to ask, he has the creeping sense that by building, Moritz certainly means this one.