I'll miss our little talks.

[Laszlo]

"Dull," Laszlo replied blandly. His smile was still fading, inspired by Duvalyon's cursing so swiftly after his words of sincerity. Another swig of warm tea finally drowned the expression, leaving his cup nearly empty. "But I'm glad of it. Pouring drinks in Alvadas was too eventful. Delivering packages and clandestine messages for Sakana has been an easy way to learn about the city." His exposure was an added benefit. Many Lhavitians, particularly those involved in academic pursuits as well as the ever-informed Shinya, were becoming more familiar with both of Laszlo's forms. There was still an overwhelming preference for his handsome, horned appearance, but at least their open disdain for his Symenestra shape had softened to begrudging tolerance. The staff at the Tea House were a good example. There was one last sip of Laszlo's tea left, which had to be filtered through his teeth. After setting the cup down, he used a claw to remove a waterlogged tealeaf scrap from his tongue. He motioned to the nearby server for a refill. "I'm beginning to consider settling here, actually. At least for a while. Thank you." Laszlo nodded to the server carrying a teapot, switching to Common without breaking cadence. The human retreated swiftly, either out of duty or distaste. It was difficult to tell which. "In which case I need to begin thinking about a trade. People are usually brought up with those, aren't they?" Across the room, another customer had ordered some sort of pastry with a red filling. Laszlo watched it wearily, as if the thing were an enigma. The Ethaefal had one foot in the caverns of Kalinor and the other in the sunlit surface world of Mizahar. "Food" was one of those unique concepts that was largely unavailable to Laszlo, except in the form of Symenestran soups and jams. He could eat solid foods in his dayside form, if he wished, but there was no pleasure in it. There was something so disheartening about knowing that he could live for a thousand years, but he'd never be able to enjoy a scone the same as a human. Laszlo shook his head, tossing aside small thoughts. It had been a while since his mind had wandered like that. It was a sign that he was getting complacent and comfortable—terrifying, knowing that it would all be torn asunder within the year. "What about your work at the Pavilion? The Shinya are all wizards, aren't they? It's a bit unnerving." Waiting for this to end, that was the worst part, but somehow Laszlo had been able to put off the dread of Fall and maintain his focus on the present. There were idioms and parables that expressed the importance of appreciating what one had, while one had it. To Laszlo's frustration, due appreciation could not keep it from slipping away from him, day by day.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

At the mention of magic, Duvalyon frowned. It was a sore subject between them. He didn't approve of Laszlo's wanton use of hypnotism, and Laszlo didn't think Duvalyon fully understood the motives behind the Ethaefal's acquisition of the craft. After initial arguments, Laszlo was discrete in his practice of magic and Duvalyon kept his snide comments to a minimum. Like any good compromise, neither party was happy. "Against all good sense, they are," he answered."Little unnerves me here anymore, though. If I considered how precarious my position was, I would be in a constant state of agitation." Duvalyon shrugged, resigned to the idea he must be on best behavior at all times, or risk being stoned in the streets. "You have some sense of that," he admitted. It was surprising. The Symenestra was almost grudging with any mark of his race. Duvalyon often sneered at the idea that Laszlo shared a Symenestra experience. He had seen enough of Ethaefal veneration to know they were not living the same days. There was a pause for contemplation before Duvalyon spoke again, showing a measure of care in his tone. "You probably wish you had a different seeming, don't you?" It was a question that stretched beyond the burrs and blows of a populace's distrust and hatred. If Laszlo had been any other creature come evening, Abalia would be safe. No grief would bend Laszlo's spine and no guilt would wrench his innards. The Ethaefal would inhabit a perpetual place of admiration in the eyes of others.

[Laszlo]

The question caught him while he was midway through sipping at his newly hot tea. Laszlo paused warily, as if sensing a trap, and glanced up at the Symenestra across from him in mild surprise. His violet eyes fell a moment later as he set down his cup. Before formulating his answer, he slowly refreshed his lungs with fresh, new air. "What sort of man would I be if I blamed my mistakes on circumstance?" Still, that wasn't the answer to what Duvalyon had asked. The Ethaefal had to wonder at the purpose of the question, whether he was being tested or if his friend was genuinely curious. So far, direct questions about the state of things had been thankfully avoided. Laszlo could not dwell too long on his predicament or it would unravel him. Sometimes he did though, and then Abalia would know how to knit him back together. Unfortunately, she would not be able to comfort him through the worst of it Laszlo looked down at one of his hands, clad in pale skin and graced with durable black nails. His scrutiny slid down to his wrist, where he could make out the delicate veins beneath his skin, carrying his blood. Regardless of his mortal race, it was as crude to be made flesh as it was to attempt saying his true name out loud. "It would be easier," he finally admitted, surrendering to the truth rather than dancing around it, "but I can't imagine being anything different. I would not be the same person." He cradled his cup with both hands, staring off now at his thoughts, rather than anything visible. "Consider that my first response to this form was traveling to Kalinor to educate myself. It isn't a short trip from Syliras. All that way just to cure my ignorance." He lifted his cup to his lips, warming his throat with the spicy drink. The guilt was occasionally choking, and it was a relief to have something hot to clear his airways with. Laszlo was quiet for a brief moment, watching steam curl off the surface of his tea. Laszlo didn't quite understand the mechanics of his fall into the physical world, but unlike Duvalyon, this form wasn't born from mortal parents. The original Vethis was, but Laszlo in this life had been given shape upon his rebirth, presumably by Syna. Surely she could have chosen differently if she wanted to. "I find it difficult to believe that I was given this form by accident. Either of them. I trust Syna had a purpose in mind." Truthfully, Laszlo wished for a lot of things to be different. Even breathing had felt like blasphemy when he was first struggling not to drown. Abalia would have been far better off if she had never met him. That Syliran family would have been better off. But what mortal didn't have regrets? The past, Laszlo had learned while in Kalinor, wasn't meant to be lived in. He could only look forward from where he was, and appreciate the present. If only such knowledge could lessen the pain of reality. The reason for his predicament, and Abalia's was not his race, but one single night that he wished he could erase. "Imagine how insufferable I'd be if everyone loved me all the time." He put on a brief smile, but his eyes were sullen as he sipped his tea again. His posture stiffened and indicated a desire to leave sooner than later.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon listened with patient interest as Laszlo unraveled his reasoning and dropped it on the table between them. It recalled the first few days of their acquaintance when the Symenestra had taken pains to hear Laszlo's questions and answer what he could. It was easy to forget Duvalyon had the ability to be a calming presence. Most his tolerance was already spent merely by being abroad and alone. In Kalinor, he had more patience to spare. Understanding the depth of his question, Duvalyon had mustered a reserve of forbearance, and even let it touch his expression. When the Ethaefal referenced a purpose in life, Duvalyon nodded subtly. Without Laszlo's gray seeming, their friendship had a snowball's chance in Eyktol, and whatever good came of it for either would never had transpired. Duvalyon was the victor in that paradigm though, and he knew it. All the grief Laszlo endured on account on being Symenestra vastly outweighed anything a connection with Kalinor could win him. Still, some cosmic order might still be at work, above even the plotting of the gods. It could take a lifetime for it manifest, perhaps more. Good thing Laszlo was immortal. At the end of Laszlo's complicated answer, he cast out a mirthless joke at his own expense. It was a familiar tactic. Duvalyon smirked and retorted, "Perish the thought." Noting the Ethaefal's obvious surliness, the Symenestra finished his tea in a quick draw and dropped enough Mizas on the table for both of them and a tip. "Come on," he said, already standing to leave, "You've had enough 'celebration' here for one night." Before Laszlo could begin to protest about the bill, Duvalyon brushed him off. "Save it, Pryza. You're buying us drinks elsewhere until you stop glowering. At this rate, it could cost you a small fortune."

[Laszlo]

Rising to his feet shortly after Duvalyon had, Laszlo froze when the Symenestra addressed him. His violet eyes were locked on the cheerfully hued miza coins strewn over the table between two empty cups and a broth-stained bowl. Though outwardly he appeared contemplative, which was to be expected for any number of reasons (pick one), Laszlo was in truth quietly startled. It wasn't the joke that stunned him, nor was it Duvalyon's insistence on paying. It was Pryza. The most literal translation in Common was "gift", but in this context, it was a term of endearment between good friends. For a non-Symenestra, this was a very high compliment. Considering this was Duvalyon, Laszlo wondered how many actual Symenestra earned that title with him. Reflecting back on their conversation, Laszlo recalled that the medic had actually expressed a shred of shared adversity, being Symenestra in a human civilization. It contrasted to Duvalyon's earlier insistence not long ago that Laszlo's connections to the race itself ran only as deep as his nighttime appearance. And now Pryza? Laszlo might have blushed. He smiled mildly instead, recovering quickly from his astonishment, and turned to follow Duvalyon to the exit. "Oh, that's priceless. You're getting after me for brooding."

[Whimsy]

.
.

Experience Award

.

Laszlo

Exp
+3 Socialisation
+2 Philosophy

Lores
Sakana: In-between Friends and Colleagues
Duvalyon: Undefinable Friendship
Understanding Mortality

Duvalyon

Exp
+3 Socialisation
+1 Observation

Lores
Symenestra: How To Be Inconspicuous In Lhavit
Leth: A Favoured God
Complex Prayer: A Mixture of Symenos & Shiber

Comments
A touching, witty interaction. I enjoyed reading this thread. Duvalyon, please subtract 9sm from your ledger for the two teas and the soup. PM me if you have any questions!