A Meeting of the Minds [Flashback/Haddy]

[Dyrdas]

25th of Fall, 506AV As the sun creeped over the horizon, and the birds sung quietly, he woke. Dyrdas’s eyes slid open slowly, wearily, as he groggily pulled himself out of bed. Then the realization hit him. Today was the day of his excursion into the city, a day of freedom. In all of his seventeen years, Oromyr had never let Dyrdas into the city unsupervised, and their trips were few and far between. Not to mention boring, as they simply trudged through the streets lugging food and supplies, then left but a few hours later, neglecting any scenic routes or sight-seeing. Dyrdas seeked to remedy that. He threw himself out of bed with new-found vigor, throwing open the doors to his personal wardrobe. He hastily grabbed an immaculate short-sleeved red silk shirt, with a long buttoned collar and gold-thread trimming, a pair of black breeches also laced with gold, and a matched set of suspenders and boots. The suspenders were stamped with lettering in Nader-Canoch, the ancient tongue, as were the boots. Dyrdas dressed himself as fast as humanly possible, a blur of limbs and silk, before immediately clopping off towards the door. As he was about to leave, Oromyr called to him from the kitchen. “C’mere, son! I understand your eagerness, but at least have something to eat.” Dyrdas rolled his eyes. “Come on, old man! If I get one day of freedom, at least let me do things my way. I’ll grab something to eat once I get inside the city.” Oromyr smirked, bemused at the teen’s snarky attitude. “At least think to take some coin with you,” the old man remarked. Dyrdas grinned, accepting a velvet pouch filled with Zeltivan Nilo that Oromyr had prepared. “Thanks a lot!” he called over his shoulder as he made for the door before Oromyr could stop him. He grabbed a silk cloak off of the rack as he stepped outside, inhaling the cool fall air. “Farewell, Recha-Vino!” came the wizened voice from within the house. A few hours later, Dyrdas found himself just inside the gates of the city, after a long walk through the stone pass that led up to them. He weighed, in his mind, the value of exploration versus that of finding food. Exploration won by a long shot. Dyrdas had read in one of Oromyr’s dusty old tomes that they actually taught magic in a scholastic setting at the local University. Intrigued by the idea, he found himself wandering off in the direction of the University until he found himself on the fringe of the Old Quarter, the ancient granite buildings of the school laid out before him.

[Hadrian]

Despite all the trials and tribulations, Hadrian had begun to suspect that he had found his niche. Of course, he had always assumed life would get better when he left the stifling aparments (opulent by anyone's standards) of his parents for the ivory tower intellectualism of the University of Zeltiva, but here, far from the eye of his father (though not his spies), he could stop studying macroeconomics, which was an interesting system, but did not make his heart sing, and focus on the mysteries of creation: magic. He could See a little, and play a little with water on an elemental level, but it felt strange to be starting out on an entirely new path, no longer at the top of his class, but starting out at the bottom. But he would be diligent and he would be the best. Just now he was taking a break from one of his head-clearing walks and sitting by the gates watching the passers-by. At first he had attempted to look at people's auras, finding he could only focus on one at a time and what he saw was vague and relatively unhelpful so far. The effort of maintaining his Sight proved taxing, as well, but practice would make perfect. He sat on a barrel of something that was sitting beside the door of a bar; not the infamous Kelp Bar, but one of many such places serving the community of Zeltiva and its favorites. There he sat with his hands cupped, the scars of his initiation gradually healing into relative nonexistence. There, floating above his cupped hands was a marble-sized nugget of res that glowed with potential power.

[Dyrdas]

Dyrdas stood there for a second, wondering what his next course of action should be. He wanted, somewhat, to venture more to the core of the University than to wander on the periphery all day, but his stomach gave a quiet rumble, enough to bring the though of food to mind. He randomly struck out into the road and to the right, eyes peeled for some form of eatery. The tall, thin lad in his eccentric clothing drew the eye of the public, traipsing around in wide leather suspenders stamped with odd lettering most, if not all, of them had never seen before. He returned a few stares with a reluctant grin, but Dyrdas did not let the apprehensive public stop him from finding the nearest source of food and chowing down. It was this pursuit that led him near a set of side-gates leading into the proper grounds of the University, with a conveniently placed bar nearby. Dyrdas immediately set off for the door, but something - more precisely, someone - caught his eye and he stopped short. Another youth, equally lanky, and whom stood eye to eye with the suspender-wearing mage aspirant, was sitting just outside. He had the focused look on his face, the one he had seen on Oromyr’s face and that he knew appeared on his own whenever an Aurist focused on a target. A precursory study of the boy’s own aura confirmed the suspicion, the glow that emanated from Hadrian was fringed, on the edges, by a darker, purplish-black hue that indicated djed had been pulled away and used to fuel magical activity. This boy was a fellow practitioner of the arts. Dyrdas wandered nearer, and did a double-take when he saw a small pocket of Res floating idly over Hadrian’s hands. It seemed he was correct in thinking the Zeltivans openly embraced magic. Either that, or this boy was just crazy. As he approached, Dyrdas cupped his hands in imitation of Hadrian, as a similar small cloud of Res formed. The Res concentrated into a small sphere and the outside caught alight, burning with magical flame. After a few seconds, the whole sphere had burned away and Dyrdas looked up at Hadrian, grinning slightly. He straightened a little and adjusted the wide leather straps of his supenders. “So,” he said, “I understand we might have a few things in common.”

[Hadrian]

These new things, these tricks, this magic -- required an inordinate amount of focus. He was almost meditating, pouring everything into maintaining that delicate balance where his eyes could see what was not supposed to be there, and where his hands could balance this bead of energy without touching it. Marvelous things. Unbelievable things. But there they were, reality. When the young man spoke, jerking Hadrian's gaze up, he caught a searing vision of his aura. So unused to it was he, and so focused had he been on the relatively simple djed of his res, that it was too much to see at once and he clenched his eyes shut, losing that tightrope walk balance he had so painstakingly achieved for the time being. But the aura seemed almost burnt to his retinas, visible against the black of his tightly shut eyelids. Before he could feel the sudden stab of pain between his brows, he opened his eyes again, reaching down to catch the res before it lost its connection with him, stopped paying attention to what he wanted it to do. It was currently gleaming on his pant leg, slowly osmosing through the material, but as his hands hovered above it, the little node of power levitated again, bobbing in the air between his hands. "What?" he asked, though his eyes stayed locked on what he was doing.

[Dyrdas]

The grin on Dyrdas’s face promptly fell into a flat line as Hadrian’s focus was disrupted. He wasn’t used to the way one might treat another novice mage who was plying their trade. Oromyr was of considerable skill, enough that botheration (OOC: Yes, it’s a word!) from Dyrdas wouldn’t be enough to cause a mistake from that wizened old man. He had come to the city to find out how the mage’s operated here... Dyrdas crossed his arms and pulled his cloak around himself as a cool wind kicked up, whispering gently in from down the street. He tapped one boot on the ground absent-mindedly for a second, allowing the other mage a second to regain composure. He slid around to Hadrian’s side, clearing the boy’s view of the street. He gazed, in mimicry, at the people moving along the street as well. He found the oddest appearing man he could, An old, tall, and exceptionally stocky individual was walking down the street quite rapidly, though it looked more like an odd waddle or hobble to Dyrdas. After his preliminary examination, he willed his eyes to feel to auras, spinning out Djed to feed the ability, as he easily caressed the surface layers of the man’s aura. Dyrdas saw the light of the man’s aura and the first thing he noticed was the sickly green crawling through the man’s being. He was sick, infected with a disease of some sort. Delving a tad deeper, Dyrdas was surprised to find that he could feel the man’s surface emotions. Red streaks shot through the ethereal light the man emitted, and Dyrdas thought he could feel a weak, ghostly heat rolling off from him. The man was quite angry, though his anger was definitely directed towards something specific, maybe a person or a thing. Slowly, as he strode past, the man’s head turned and he fixed Dyrdas with a stern look before turning his eyes back in the direction he was headed. Dyrdas thought he could submerse himself even deeper into the magical signals that the man likely didn’t even know he was sending, but the man rounded a corner and Dyrdas lost sight, promptly breaking off his connection to the Aura. He turned to Hadrian. “Yes, I’m somewhat... new to the city, and I came in this direction looking to sight-see at the University. But I saw you, and your use of Reimancy and Auristics caught my eye.” as he fell silent, an audible grumble issued from within his stomach.

[Hadrian]

The amorphous shape of glowing stuff wobbled in the air between his hands, its surface rippling dangerously as his fingers clenched the air. Either the res was getting slippery and making him overcompensate, which force troubled the receptive form of djed; it was a vicious circle. The blob popped like a soap bubble and was gone. Hadrian sighed, rubbed his palms on his pants and looked at the healing wounds of initiation, then turned to the other young man with sudden curiosity. His chlorine blue gaze was all the more startling when set within the suddenly bloodshot whites. He was a novice of novices, newer to this than anyone else he had met before. "You can tell that I was using Auristics?" he asked. "How... how did you know that?"

[Dyrdas]

“Ah.” A subtle look of surprise grew on Dyrdas’s face, and he looked more carefully at the young man before him. The sphere of Res floating above his hands shook and rippled, then burst abruptly. He looked past where the Res was. The hands that were cupped in a gesture of control still bore fresh initiation scars. Dyrdas glanced at his own hands - his scars were well faded by now, though he doubted they would ever be completely invisible. Then Hadrian turned and looked at him. “Well, I saw that you were using Auristics through... well, Auristics. I guess I could show you a thing or too.” His stomach grumbled again. At this, he straightened and took his weight off the wall. Dyrdas nodded towards the door of the bar and moved to head inside. “Come on. My treat.” Dyrdas took a table by the window that faced out onto the same street he had stood on moments before. The patrons that huddled around their own tables were an eclectic mic of Scholar and Sailor, from the younger students, hardly Dyrdas’s age, to the wizened old men who likely taught the same students. Beside these two crowds, there were also the sailors, the stereotypical burly men. However, there wasn’t much chugging of ale amongst any of the aforementioned demographics. It was, after all, still mid-morning. As they were seated, Dyrdas gave Hadrian a knowing look and quickly launched into an explanation of his previous feat. “Well, what I did was, first, just check your body language. Most people don’t just stare with such gravitas,” he gestured widely at the other patrons, “As most Aurists do when they single out their target. Once I had the suspicion, I took a look at your Aura myself. It’s not too difficult to spot the parts where they’ve been using Djed, which is obviously a surefire way to identify a fellow mage.” After his long-winded spiel, Dyrdas reclined in his chair and raised one hand as if to flag down a server. His hand stopped short, however. “Um... What do they sell here?”

[Hadrian]

When he saw the telltale glance at his hands, he clenched them shut, not angry, not embarrassed, but feeling suddenly vulnerable, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. All the same, he listened intently to what the other young man had to say. He frowned, but nodded and stood up. It would be bad manners to refuse an invitation, and even if he was a rather awkward fellow, he had manners. After sitting, he continued to listen and, of course, it made sense once he thought about it, but he was still learning the particular logic of magic, which was only logical when it felt like it and other times was illogical. "That makes sense," he admitted, then looked around as if becoming aware of their surroundings for the first time. "Mostly kelp beer. It's rank, but I'm getting used to it. Whatever that says about me." If he had smiled, it might be taken as the joke he meant it to be, but instead he looked down at the table, furiously trying to figure out the whole magic thing after a few days of study, so it just came out sounding a bit petulant.

[Dyrdas]

“Kelp Beer, eh? As in... Beer, made of kelp? Odd.” Dyrdas raised his hand again, more firmly and with more certainty than before, and one of the servers near the bar spotted the motion and made her way over. Dyrdas expected to receive an odd look, some condescending attitude, or other treatment due to the relative youth of Hadrian and himself, but the server treated them like any other patrons. Another look at all the students around and he understood. “Yes, would you like something?” “Uh...” he cast a quick glance at Hadrian. “Two Kelp Beers, please.” The server nodded and walked off without a word. Dyrdas scratched the back of his head, conscious of the air of awkwardness between his new-found acquaintance and himself. Although, he definitely felt some kinship with this fellow mage, despite how inexperienced and green he was. He had a better grasp on the workings of the city, too. Dyrdas figured if anyone could fill him in on the University and what goes on around the place, this guy could. Of course, if he even attended class at the university. “So,” he began, “I take it you’re a student?” he ventured, cautiously, and wondered of he could delve into an Aura deep enough to find out without having to ask. After years of always being inferior to the other mage in his life, Oromyr , the old man, being able to measure his abilities against those of another novice was refreshing, and had him wondering just how powerful he really was. For the time being, however, he would put a lid on all the experimentation. “Oh, and what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” He continued on with the conversation, pushing all of his wondering to the periphery for the time being. Dyrdas thought it might be considered impolite to daydream mid-conversation anyways.

[Hadrian]

"Yeah. Beer made of kelp. We're a seaport, so it's the most abundant crop, even with fish are scarce." He was quiet, letting the other youth order. He seemed awfully awkward around people, which was saying something coming from Hadrian. All the same, he murmured his thanks. The nastiness of the kelp beer would distract him from the needle of pain between his brows and the latent throb that was only going to get worse if the stories were true. "Um, yes. Anthropology and now... well, some sort of magic, I hope. I'm not very good at it, though. Obviously. "Hadrian Aelius of Syliras," he said, putting his hand out across the table to shake the way sailors did. "Pleased to meet you...?" He waited for the other to clasp his hand and shake it, and introduce himself as well.