Closed Fount of Stupid, Filter of Smart (Isolde)

[Matthew]

32nd of Summer, 513AV. Matthew slipped into the abandoned laboratory, blue eyes glancing around for any signs of life. He had specifically timed his excursion like he timed many of his others; at an hour where there was likely to be no one here to bother him. For this particular adventure, he had thought ahead, and planned it for early in the morning. The wizards he had experienced back in Zeltiva were the types to stay up until the wee hours of the morning, practicing their craft until the sun spilled forth and caused odd hissing to escape from their tired lips. There was no sunlight here, but it was still about the same hour. He had banked on most normal would-be wizards to be safely tucked away in their beds, and it looked like he was right. Allowing a small little smile of victory to cross over his full lips, the handsome harlot stepped into the empty room, closing the door quietly behind him. His lips curled in a bit of distaste at the sight of the dusty shelves and random markings strewn about the place, and his eyes peered at random little pieces of paper scattered all around the area. No doubt they were discarded notes by previous wizards who weren't happy with whatever they had written. He was both curious and cautious. Who knew what would come leaping out of the paper at him. While he practiced his own sort of magic, it was closer to him. It was more intimate. It seemed familar and safe, while almost every other branch of magic seemed distant and foreign. They scared him, really. He couldn't help but feel just a bit of fear at the unexplained and the unknown. Part of it made him want to explore it. Was that why he was here today? He couldn't say for sure. There were various branches of magic he would never be able to bring himself to explore. Almost all of the personal branches were something he wasn't even interested in. He had heard the stories. A small shudder overtook him, and he moved further into the empty room, glancing around the shelving and tables. Light filtered in the smudged windows from the outside, giving the wooden innards of the abandoned lab something of an eerie glow. It all seemed very mystical, with dirty beams of dancing light cast by a flickering torch, shadows lurking in corners, and crumpled notes tossed everywhere. He was almost positive he could make out some footprints in the dirty floor. Was the place ever cleaned? Or was it cleaned, and practicing sorcerers just did their best to mess it up all over again? Finding a long table, he did his best to blow off the layer of dirt, not wanting to get his precious purchase any filthier than it might already be. He was both excited and scared to get started on something that University had only briefly touched on, and he was hopeful he would be able to do it in secret. A harlot, attempting to learn World magic all by himself? So many things could go wrong. Was that why he was excited? Should he have bought a book or something to help guide him? Chewing his lower lip, Matthew pondered the idea, slowly setting down a long and thin object wrapped in light cloth. He stared at it, examining it end to end as he straightened his white button-up shirt, adjusting the backpack slung over his shoulder. He was pristinely dressed, as always. A snug shirt and sharp slacks showed off his natural physical aspects, and his hair was painstakingly styled. Not very wizard-like, he thought. Did it matter? Feeling excitement welling up inside of him again, his blue eyes briefly widened as he slowly unraveled his latest purchase. It rolled out onto the table, making soft clinking sounds as it did. It was a meter-long piece of golden d-wire, only faintly smudged by some unknown substance. He had picked it up at the Indoor Market, where it had cost him a rather hefty sum of 10 mizas. It was what he needed though. It was all he needed. The normally apathetic Matthew was allowing himself more and more emotion, a slow smile creeping across his feminine features. All he had to do was take the d-wire, twist it into a circle, and then- Time froze, and Matthew blinked as something clicked in the back of his mind. And then... and then what? Stupid. This is what happened when he let himself get excited. He was so petching scared of emotion because it made him do stuff like this. It made him overeager, excited, sloppy. He had just bought d-wire from a street vendor, and without knowing a thing about the craft he was hoping to learn, had waltzed on over to the nearest private location and planned to do... what? What exactly had he been planning? That was the petching problem. He hadn't been planning. Overcome with sudden frustration, he slammed his hand down on the dusty table, shuddering up a small cloud of the substance and echoing a small clap of sound through the empty area. This frustrated him more than it should have, but he couldn't help it. He was down quite a few gold Mizas because of this sudden random desire to learn. He could remember the teachers in the University, endlessly lecturing him on how you can't just teach yourself. You can't just learn magic and be done with it. It wasn't that simple, they said. His brow furrowed, and he felt his lip lift in a snarl. He had already moved to the whim of one silly feeling, why not go ahead and dance with a few more? Petch the teachers. He wasn't any random student. He was brilliant. Fire blazing in his cold eyes, he spun, graceful form taking him to each discarded piece of paper. He had heard this had used to be a magecrafting area, but he was hoping people came here to practice other arts as well. He would search every last scrap of paper until he found at least one fact about Alchemy that he could remember. Then he would figure out how to twist the petching wire into the correct shape, and turn petching water into wine. His brain was swearing a lot more than it usually did.

[Isolde Seibold]

The Inner Sanctum. Isolde didn't know why she hadn't thought of it sooner.

...Okay. She had thought of coming here sooner. Actually, she'd thought about coming the very first day she'd heard tell of the place. An abandoned building, and one supposedly left to the care of the tiny (but growing), magical community in Syliras? If she could use the Sanctum, instead of having to make the trek all the way to the Bronze Woods every time she wanted to practice her Reimancy... well, having a safe place here, in the city, would be absolutely fantastic. Especially now that her body ached and ached and complained with every movement, and long walks actually bothered her.

Only, up until this point she'd been too cowardly to work up the courage to come and check things out. What if she ran into some big, bad wizard who decided he didn't like her barging in on his studies--?

This morning she'd finally worked up the gumption to come. Wizards be damned. It wasn't like the place belonged to anybody. She had as much of a claim to it as anyone else. At least that's what she told herself on the way over, taking the time to visit in the early, early morning, since she didn't want to have to deal with crowds in the streets, or people taking notice of where she was going.

She'd told herself there would be nobody here. The Sanctum was obviously in disuse. The way in had been choked with cobwebs, and somehow they'd given her hope that the place would be uninhabited, despite the fresh footprints on the dusty floor.

Hope was a thing quick to be extinguished.
No sooner had she slipped through the door to the place and shut it quietly, ever so quietly... than a form moved at one of the tables, slamming down a hand in rage at her appearance. She fumbled back in surprise and fear as the person went tearing through his notes, probably to find a nice, good piece of magic to cast at her in punishment... and it was just her luck that her foot caught a stray piece of paper that was lying on the ground. Her momentum caused it to slip and slide across the smooth stone floor (giving it a banana-peel effect), and she tumbled to the side and back, trying to correct her balance--

Slamming her back and shoulders into some of the shelves on the wall, and her pain was forgotten even as she let out a yelp--

Because the shelves came tumbling down off their mounts with a wooden roar, as if they had just been waiting for an excuse to collapse.

In the midst of the aftermath, the Nuit tried to stay still as stone where she was, eyes squinting at the figure through the cloud of dust that had poofed into the air in response to her debacle, pretty certain that whoever it was had turned murderously her way. Unfortunately, gravity was fighting her, making her impression of a statue void. She'd ended up in an awkward position, upper back thudded against the wall, hips and stomach forward, arms stretched out and down on either side, legs splayed out below, desperately trying to hold herself up with all the strength of her arms. Her shoulder muscles were soon screaming, especially on the damaged left side. Slowly, slowly she slid down, down, down, not saying anything, just letting gravity take control as gracefully as she could... until she settled primly atop the pile of destroyed wood and metal bits and yes, a few dozen papers that had been left upon the shelves that were now littered upon the ground around her.

Her voice was a ghost in the room when she gathered herself to speak. "Er-- um. Oops?" Feeling like an idiot --and perhaps an idiot who was about to get her face burned off by some pissed-off pyromancer-- she gently picked up the paper closest to her, carefully keeping her eyes off the man. She studied it for a second, brow furrowing, and though she couldn't much make out really any of the words in the strange, eerie lighting, she held the paper out helpfully to him, brushing dust and wooden splinters from its surface, before asking innocently, "P-Perhaps this is the one y-you were looking for?" Pretending she'd just been trying to assist him in his search all the while.

Oh yes. Now was a splendid time to grow a sense of humor.

OOCNow THAT'S what I call one smooth entrance. Good going, Nuit.

[Matthew]

Though extremely peturbed by the appearance of someone, he wasn't actually at all shocked by it. Really, he was expecting it. the day had just started and so much had already gone wrong, so what was another little aggrivating twist? Slowly folding his defined arms over each other crossly, he watched as the bumbling figure flapped about. If he wasn't shocked, apparently they were. First they slipped and wobbled in the air, then they bounced off the shelves that they had so gracefully rammed into. Then there was the collapse of the wood, tumbling down all around her. All the while Matthew stood there, shrouded by shadow, actually tapping his foot impatiently. The quicker the invader was done dancing, the quicker one of them would be able to get out and go about their day. Finally the stranger managed to catch themself, and they held this awkward pose against the wall before slowly slipping down it. For a brief moment, the torchlight outside caught a glimpse of their face, and Matthew's eyebrow perked as he realized who it was. Book Nuit. Apparently she didn't know who he was. He was shrouded well enough he supposed, so that would explain that. Pondering the situation, he glanced briefly at the paper she was holding out to him. Did she actually have the one he was looking for? No, that was silly. He had just flopped around like a fish yanked out of water. She didn't even know what he was looking for. Why was she lying then? Was she scared of what she thought he was? Was she trying to please him? Slowly Matthew advanced, form graceful, the harlot doing what he could to keep to the shadows. For whatever reason, his agitated mind wanted some sort of revenge for the day he had been having so far, and she was going to be the lucky one to indulge him in that. Approaching carefully, not making any threatening movements, he stepped close enough where some of the flickering outside lights caught his upper body. He was fit and well-dressed, it was obvious. Would the pieces start to click in her mind? He slowly knelt down, one hand taking the paper she was holding, but then going farther and gently lacing their fingers. As his knees thumped to the floor, his other hand gingerly reached out, softly taking her by the chin if she would allow. Finally, his full face came into view, his intense blue eyes briefly flickering in the light as he leaned close. His magic swirled, and she would perhaps sense the suggestions in the air. Suggestions that it was all okay, not to strike out, that it was just the man from the bookstore. Who was now touching her. Like a lover would. What was he- Matthew was suddenly very close, his warm full lips almost brushing her cold ones. His blue eyes searched hers as his fingers tilted her face upwards just a tad, both of them caught in the darkness, kneeling on the floor. He whispered, his breath warm against her features, if her dead body could even feel such things. "If you wanted to teach me what I wanted to know about Nuits, you had my card. You didn't have to follow me, Isolde. All you had to do was ask." The words practically shuddered with sensual suggestiveness, brushing her lips and cheeks as they rode the soft air that expelled from his mouth. His other hand, fingers in hers, would slowly raise her hand to his cheek if she was fully enraptured or frozen in shock. Either would do. If she stuttered like she normally did, that would make him feel even better. Then, just like that, he was up on his feet, a ghost of a smile on his face before it was replaced with the cool professionalism she was likely more familiar with. Reaching down a strong hand, he offered it to her, staring down with his head tilting. "So, really, what are you doing here? Come to practice something, I assume? I didn't know you had magic skills." He would help her to her feet if he could, then step back, tugging the piece of paper free from her grasp to glance his eyes over it. Something about glyphs. He didn't want to learn glyphs yet. Straight-faced now that someone was here to see him, he kept his eyes locked on hers and waited for whatever answer she would give.

[Isolde Seibold]

Oh gods, oh gods. The man was approaching, striding purposefully forward. The Nuit was frozen in place, not speaking, unable to move, just watching. She should get out, but she couldn't. Her body wasn't responding. Her mind was running around but going absolutely nowhere, completely unhelpful. What sort of horror awaited for her interruption, what agony, what punishment--?

His body passed through an errant ray of wavering light, leaking in from one of the covered windows, and-- wait a moment. That body, that sharp style of dress, it was all... well, familiar. How was it that she was recognizing someone's body, she didn't do that, she hardly paid attention to such--

Things.
It was Matthew.
How the petch had she to managed to find him in such an isolated place in a city as large as Syliras? Seriously?

But how could it be anyone else? Isolde almost said hello, but her words died in her throat as he took the paper from her hand... interlacing his warm fingers with her cool ones, and she almost pulled back at the unexpected touch, the intimacy--

Then he was close and still managing to come closer, taking her chin, eyes flaring like strange, blue fire--

Lips poised above hers, and she stopped breathing. Just... stopped. No more of that. She didn't need it. But she was almost painfully aware of his breath on her face, his words swirling sensually across her skin, and she could hardly make sense of what he was saying because this was-- it was--

Over.
Gone.

He vanished, reappearing to stand before her, smiling out and she thought perhaps the expression was one of victory. The Nuit didn't care. She still wasn't breathing. She was having a hard time moving, reacting. She didn't know what had just happened, other than the fact that he had effortlessly... wooed her. Just like that. Gods, damn it. The littlest attention from a man --okay, so he was no ordinary man but regardless, it shouldn't matter-- and she was having a conniption. Gods. Matthew seemed to have no bounds to how many ways he could just embarrass her. Damn him. She didn't know why she hadn't just shoved him away the instant he got near, or leapt up and ran screaming from the room. In a dark room with him. And now she was thinking of socks, for gods' sake.

He was offering his hand, and she would look like even more of an idiot if she didn't accept. So Isolde carefully laid her own cool fingers in his own, trying not to remember how he'd interlocked his with hers just moments before, and pulled herself to her feet. Probably he noticed how quickly she let go of him the instant she was upright, and it was really only an excuse to look away as she dusted herself off, trying to rid herself of wooden splinters.

"So, really, what are you doing here? Come to practice something, I assume? I didn't know you had magic skills."

The Nuit almost, almost asked him how he didn't know that she really had come here looking for him, to provide him with the uh, science that he needed. But no, no. That would be pushing it. The Nuit didn't want to invite more lascivious behavior. She tried to look casual as she drifted away, putting more space between them, idly picking up a piece of paper here and there and squinting at it in the half light.

"Uh. I-- uh, w-well really I--" She had to stop and try again, taking a deep breath. The first breath since he'd approached her, and thank goodness it was of air not shared by two. "I am here to... practice. K-Kinda. J-Just really to l-look around, I guess." There, she'd spat it out. She was chagrined, a bit, by her openness, not being the one to talk much about herself, or share the fact that she dabbled a bit in magic. Not in this city, it just wasn't good to talk about such things. Not where people could overhear... But no, she didn't have to worry. It was just her and Matthew here. Just the two of them. Completely alone.

Okay, perhaps that was exactly the reason to worry. The Nuit snuck a glance towards the other, eyeing him as covertly as she could. Judging from what little she knew about the harlot... well, he meant nothing by what he'd just done. He apparently could turn his... powers, for lack of a better term, on and off any moment. Somehow, that made her feel better. It made his... appeal... less real, somehow. Less serious. She shouldn't take it seriously. It was just his idea of a joke.

A joke with one hell of a punchline.

[Matthew]

Socks indeed. Long socks, short socks, little socks, big socks. Hot and sweaty socks. Her cold fingers locked onto his as she hefted herself up, and for a moment, he glanced down at their touching skin to observe the contrast. It was odd how cold her hand was. It didn't quite sit right. He had been scared when he first met her, but had slowly grown to accept what she was and who she was. He couldn't catch what she had merely by touching her. She couldnt' wave her hand and pass it on like some sort of magical curse. But still, when they briefly touched, and he felt the lifeless fingers wrapped around his own... there was a twist of unease in his stomach. He had never touched a dead body before, but he was now positive this is what it would feel like if he did. For a brief second, two emotions clashed deep within his stomach, rewriting the nervousness and instead becoming something else. She didn't particularly deserve either one of them. He wasn't something that could judge her. But still. He was momentarilly disguisted by what he held, and briefly pitied what he held. The harlot who normally held onto his logic like a lifeline didn't even know why he felt these things. He just did. Was it ever something she felt as well? Then she quickly pulled away, the sudden jolt causing his eyes to rise to hers. She was looking away, dusting herself off. He rose an eyebrow up and glanced around, checking out the damage she had done. Nothing too incredibly bad, except for the collapsed shelf. It had probably been waiting for an excuse for a long time anyways. She soon drifted away, picking up random pieces of paper and peering at them. He merely kept his eyes on her, following her the whole way. She still had his question to answer, and he was planning on waiting until she did. Realization swept over him as she stuttered her way through a response, having to suck in breaths here or there. He had gotten to her. His twisted revenge scheme had actually struck a chord somewhere inside of her, and thinking back, she hadn't pulled away from him very much. Instead, she had frozen, endless eyes wide and her lips parted in a breath that had never come. He could have kissed her, if he had wanted to. It was a cold unsettling feeling, and he instantly felt something of a regret for what he had done. It had been manipulative. He didn't like manipulating. He only manipulated if they paid him the Mizas, and outside of that, it wasn't something found appropriate. But here he had effortly swirled his magic in just a subtle little way, here he had touched her like he would a customer, just to get some sort of victory this morning. If he wanted to, could he get her to teach him what he wanted to know in a different way? Old nightmares of the Konti leaped to mind, and his eyes flashed with that blue fire again. The thought was instantly drowned, hands wrapped around it to hold it underneath water. He didn't even give the idea time to thrash around and attempt to resurface. He pushed it under, snapped it in half, and let it float to the bottom. The idea was gone, and it was just him now. Distant and aloof, face expressionless and blue eyes intense. His only show of emotion or thought was his slightly furrowed brow, as one thing still remained. His feeling of pity and disgust was remembered, and he wondered if others ever felt that about her. Had she ever been touched? Hugged? Kissed? Had she ever held hands with anyone after becoming what she was now? Did other Nuit ever display affection? Did she even miss affection? He nibbled his lower lip quickly, lost in thought. It was likely something too deep to dive into right now. Best keep focused on the task at hand. Mostly on the fact that she had given him two completely different stories in the space of a single sentence. "Practice? Look around? Which is it? Or are you practicing looking around?" Perhaps she really was. It seemed Nuit-like, somehow. Moving back to the table he had placed his d-wire on, he sullenly stared at it, trying to figure out where to go from here. "I was curious about Alchemy. I came here to... try it. But I don't know how. I was hoping these notes might have something. Anything." He knew that probably wouldn't make sense. It would probably sound stupid, because it was stupid. He sighed, glancing around. He was normally fairly keen about keeping his interests hidden, but this was a place where it was usually practiced. If he had to guess, she was here for the same reason he was, though perhaps a different discipline. Hopefully him casually mentioning that he was a harlot with an interest in world magic wouldn't land him in any trouble. The skittish Nuit didn't seem like the type to want him in trouble. He kept his arms crossed, standing there, watching her quietly. The light kept catching his eyes every other second, causing the bright windows to glitter wildly.

[Isolde Seibold]

Just a joke. Just a game. Just a... uh... Oh, what was the right word for it--? She couldn't think, but she knew she'd heard Matthew use it himself, before, last time he'd come into the store. He'd been saying something, they'd been talking prices, and he had said-- He'd said--

What had it been?
One last time before-- the--
The show. That was it.

Just a show.
It fit perfectly. The more Isolde thought about what had happened, the more she dissected every moment, the more she came to realize that she was completely right. Just a show. An act. A character to be played. She was willing to bet that the clinical Matthew, the detached one, the one that had given her a card so coolly and calmly, and asked for her help with his studies, that was the real Matthew. The other one that had approached her just chimes ago, the seducer with his hand in hers and his words breathing against her face-- That man was the show. And she thought... no, she was certain she could handle the showman, now that she knew that he was not actual, just some fantasy that the real Matthew had dreamed up. Or, more likely, a fantasy the real Matthew had purposefully devised and detailed with an artist's touch. She had to give him grudging credit. He knew how to yarn a beautiful tale.

But she'd seen how he'd turned that other Matthew right off, over, gone, and that made him no longer a threat. A beautiful tale, yes, but one that was superficial. And superficial beauty was hardly beauty at all.

Just a petching show.

The Nuit blinked, coming back to the present from some sort of revelation. She had relaxed visibly. Perhaps Matthew had power, but he would no longer have power over her. She knew his game, or at least suspected it, and that made her feel strong enough to resist, should he ever throw anything like that her way again. Lust without love. Meaningless. She was somewhat surprised she'd fallen for it the first time around, had frozen at his touch, had let herself want-- Isolde could only think that that had happened because he'd sprung the show on her, unexpected, and she had been unprepared. He'd never acted like that before, in the few times she'd talked to him. She hadn't even known he could be like that. And, really, the fact that he could didn't change much. She'd just have to watch him carefully from now on, was all. Keep her eyes peeled for a glimmer of that... well, glimmer. And then all she'd have to do was remind herself how false the show really was. Smoke and mirrors. A mask.

But, oh. Matthew'd been saying something and she'd let herself fall out of attention again. She focused on him fast enough to catch his last few sentences, hoping she hadn't missed anything, wishing she could politely find a way to ask him what she hadn't heard.

"I was curious about Alchemy. I came here to... try it. But I don't know how. I was hoping these notes might have something. Anything."

"A-Alchemy?" she asked, and let herself wander closer to him, wondering what it was that he had been staring at on the table. The Nuit's demeanor was cautious; she was testing the waters. She stepped closer, not too close, of course, and was relieved to find that she felt nothing out of the ordinary. Just interest in the conversation. Curious why the real him was interested in magic, in Alchemy. She cleared her throat, right hand straying up to her ripped hood, thoughtful. She didn't like reaching up with her left hand anymore; sometimes it caused too much discomfort in her shoulder.

"Alchemy," she repeated faintly, as if thinking... and then her eyes focused on something that wasn't there, some piece of paper or lesson learned far in the past, and she said, sounding as if she was reciting: "The use of doorways and the acceleration of djed in order to transfer existing properties and create artificial matter." Her mind was nagging at her, and there was some feeling sprouting to life, something exciting-- She turned her dull blue eyes sharply to the harlot, inspecting him, but no, this feeling was different, he wasn't creating it. It was like the feeling she'd used to get after thinking up some 'grand' project back at the Outpost, like changing the roofing on the old hen house or adding window boxes to her home to keep her flower garden safe from rabbits. Things like that. But this was bigger. Much bigger.

Alchemy. Using things to create other things. Borrowing properties. Borrowing--

Bodies.
Perhaps this was what she'd been looking for. The first step. How to get herself out of this-- this dreadful cycle of bodies, bodies, bodies. To make things better.

The Nuit's eyes flew wide, gleaming with something close to joy. Alchemy! She could've hugged Matthew right then, but she held herself in check, practically bouncing in place. "Y-You're going to study it? A-Are you--?" She glanced at the thing on the table, and somehow it was familiar. A piece of strange, old wire, and she just knew what it was, just couldn't put a name to it. The Burned Man had mentioned it briefly."Is that what that's for? No wait, of course it is!" She felt like she was demanding a lot of answers rapidly, almost babbling, but she was just so excited. Alchemy! She should've thought of it sooner. She'd always thought Animation would be the only way. But Alchemy had potential, too, didn't it? Loads of potential. Mountains of it. Droves.

"Do you have any idea h-how to get started? We need more materials--" she said, breathless, expectant. He hadn't seemed to know, but perhaps he knew something. Then she back-tracked, forcing herself to calm down, taking a couple breaths, easing back, trying to damper the frenzy to learn everything she could right this instant. This endeavor, or whatever, would take time. Lots and lots of time. Luckily for her, she had all the time in the world. She could afford to slow things down. In fact, she needed to slow down. She didn't want to rush this and mess it up. She would not mess it up.

So really. Get a grip. Stop it already, you're making a fool of yourself. The Nuit took some more deep breaths, these ones smaller than the large gulps she'd been taking before, and forced herself to settle onto one of the chairs at the dusty table, slouching down. Breathe in and out. There you go. Think. Ask. A few ticks passed, the fervent shine dimming from her eyes, her expression diminishing back into placidity. Another couple of ticks and Nuit almost looked abashed; she studied her thumbs. "I m-mean-- d-do you want help? A-- A partner?" No, that was asking too much of him. Gods, get a grip! She tried again, looking hopeful. "O-Or assistant?" That was better. Now to see what he had to say about it. She'd take up the study with or without him. But together... well, performing magic was always safer with another person. It would be better to be together. And they could pool their resources and knowledge, too. What little they had.

OOCHopefully this post isn't too crappy. It feels crappy. :<

[Matthew]

If she would have phrased her thoughts, he might very well have applauded her. Don't get caught up in it, Isolde. Don't lose your clarity, not for a moment. Think clearly and logically, and don't let anything cloud your judgement. Not a single thing. Not even the touch of my hand, or the soft brush of my lips. When she just defined it like that, his cool eyes shot over to her, surprised at the quickness of her words. So she knew what he was talking about? Apparently the book girl wasn't just a book girl. Or perhaps she was just a book girl, and had read a book somewhere on Alchemy? He studied her, curious now, wondering how best to approach the subject. Earlier frustrations slowly faded away as he examined her, now interested in what information her head might have to offer. He didn't have any real reason for wanting to study a little bit of Alchemy, besides the simple desire for knowledge. The desire to keep his mind sharp and focused, and what better a thing to hone it on than something as complex as world magic? He didn't flinch as she turned her own eyes to him, both of them studying each other silently for a moment. What was going on in her head? Why was she looking at him like that? And now, now her eyes were widening. He wasn't at first sure if he should step back or not, but when the short little Nuit started bouncing in place, he went ahead and let himself retreat. He wasn't so sure what the Nuit had up her sleeve. A blink met her excited questions. Was he going to study it? He followed her quick glance to the d-wire, his eyes reflecting his growing confusion as her excitement continued to build and her words quickly spilled out. He didn't even give her answers, didn't even open his mouth to give her answers, and here she was spitting out one question after the other. In the end, Matthew just stood there, patiently waiting for her to get out everything she wanted. He tried to keep up, holding on for the ride, focusing all of his attention on the endlessly enthusiastic Nuit. What an odd combination that was. Finally, she took some breaths. He nodded, encouraging the wise decision, even more pleased to see she was taking a seat. That made her less of a threat, whatever she had been building up to. She had looked like she was going to throw herself on him and hug him. He wasn't so sure how he would have felt about that. Breaths later, she was asking for a partner, or an assistant, or something of the sort. He continued to be quiet, trying his best to recap. She knew something about Alchemy, and for some reason, she wanted to learn it herself. She didn't seem to know much, so she was looking for someone to help her out. She had probably either had a hard time finding someone, or just hadn't thought to really look... so this stroke of luck was probably exciting. Slowly bending over, setting an elbow on a table and his chin in his hand, he considered. There was no harm in it. He knew it would be safe to have a second person involved. Two brains were better than one. "We can... try. I am not opposed to being partners. As long as we work well together." He spoke slowly, his words as carefully pronounced as they were back at the bookshop, showing her that he was indeed back to the self that she was most familiar with. "I know the bare basics. The barest of the basics. I know what you just said, and perhaps one way that such a circle is supposed to look. I was actually just looking for some more details in these notes. I honestly don't know where to start. I don't have the funds for another book, if your shop even has one. I figured this would be the best place to start. Do you have ideas you would like to contribute to how we should start this off?" There it was, their first chance to work as a team. He watched her carefully, still hesitant about this. He wasn't so sure why. He didn't have any suspicions of the Nuit, nor did he dislike her. It had just been awhile since he had been part of a team of more than one.

OOCOh please.

[Isolde Seibold]

Partners. Okay. That was good. He said they could give it a try. That was more than she had been expecting. Who would want to partner with the likes of her...? But he'd said yes, at least for now, and she had to fight to shove down the feeling of utter elation that was threatening to bring a smothering grin to her face. Gods, she was just so unused to feeling actually happy that it made the experience all the more distinct, uncontrollable. She felt like she was about to soar into the sky... or at least bump against the dusty ceiling.

Do you have ideas you would like to contribute to how we should start this off?"

At Matthew's question Isolde finally managed to contain her mirth, trying to apply a tactful eye to their situation and glean the best course of action. "Ummm~" she hummed out, dull eyes squinting around the room, "...Well. If we intend to use this place to do any sort of studying it would be wise to keep it clean. S-So at some point in t-time w-we'll have to do that." She slid a discerning look to his clothes, the way they fit him, possibly tailored, and good quality cloth, too, like nothing she'd ever worn... "O-Of course, I understand i-if you wouldn't want to d-do something like that, y-yourself. I c-could clean up around here a l-little, and w-we'll need a better s-source of lighting." She glanced at the windows, covered and some even boarded up. "I d-don't know how w-wise it would be to advertise o-our presence here. I imagine th-there's a reason the windows are covered, probably h-having to do with secrecy... S-So perhaps some candles? And m-maybe th-there's a hearth..." She hadn't looked around as much as she could have, having been mainly focused on the harlot she was sharing the room with.

"F-For actually starting up... Well, we'll need a piece of equipment called a 'doorway', a type of metallic ring or shape that can be used to focus djed. Then there's the chargers, the founts and filters, I'm pretty certain those can be just everyday items if you wish, a-and we w-won't be needing to do a-anything too drastic in th-the early stages, so inexpensive things w-will work fine," she said quickly before taking another slow breath, tilting her head back so that her hood fell away from her face, dark hair exposed, tied into a sloppy bun atop her head... all of it except a lock the width of a palm, which looked like it had been messily chopped to a shorter length for no reason.

Isolde ran a hand along the side of her neck, squinting up at the ceiling.... were those glyphs carved into the stone? Instantly she sat up straighter, peering upwards, frowning, momentarily distracted... "Matthew, do you s-see that? This place is glyphed-- I'd h-heard that it was protected by a mage, Dev-something-or-other Nightshade... but I didn't imagine anything like t-this--" She broke off wonderingly, considering. And then abruptly pushed back her chair, pacing across the room to the nearest wall, running her small, cool hand over the surface. Her fingers caught at a symbol scratched into a corner of one of the stone bricks, and for a moment she wished she knew enough about reading glyphs that she could try to figure out what exactly it was for. "I-If we really do end up doing this, this p-place is probably the best in a-all of Syliras."

"I w-wonder how expensive a proper low-level doorway might be... Though your w-wire will come in useful for that." D-wire, that's what that was! The name came to her in a remembered flash, the Burned Man passing the time by going on about all the different branches of magic, and there had been a long time to talk and question back when they had wandered the roads together in search for her lost Vaughn. Remembering him made a pang go through her, and Isolde hugged her arms tight around her midsection, strolling along the wall, and there were glyphs all over. Really, they gave her an idea. "Perhaps the b-best place to start with be with that-- that Dev-something-or-other man. If he s-set up all this," she gestured with her right arm to the room at large, before retracting it and crossing it back across her body tightly, "then perhaps h-he'll know something a-about Alchemy too. M-Maybe he'll have a ring we could borrow. Or an idea of a p-person to help up g-get started. A-And I can check Undeniable Interests for a-any material on the subject, of course." Finally she turned back to the escort. "What do y-you think?"

[Matthew]

Still studying her with a level of... concern, he slowly nodded at her words. He could accept that the Nuit knew what she was talking about, and he was quite relieved to find that she talked about it with a level of intellect and interest. She craved the knowledge, much like him, though she was rather excited about it. He wasn't sure if he should ask why or not, and instead just let her work her way through all the things she wanted to say. The relationship was proving to be benefical almost automatically. Instead of having himself to talk to and himself alone, he now had Isolde, who could seemingly speak to him on the same level. Two people were better than one, at least in this specific case. He didn't answer any of her questions right off the bat, instead, let her go through all of them before offering his own outlook on things. "Cleaning is a very good idea. I certainly don't mind cleaning, either." Noticing her glance at his clothes, he himself glanced down, shaking his head as if reading her thoughts. "These were not expensive clothes. I simply take care of them. One or two washes and then a few heavy stones sat upon them to flatten, and they will be just as sharp as they were before. While I am slightly disturbed by what this dirt and dust could have come from, I will not hesitate to tidy it up a little bit and put it to use for ourselves. I am sure the other practitioners will appreciate our efforts." He hoped that they would. Or they would just come back and mess it up again, and then they would quickly spend all of their efforts learning about cleaning. A brief scowl crossed his features at the thought, and then he moved on. "Candles are an excellent idea as well." He definitely didn't want to be stumbling around in the dark with any sort of magic. Peering at her hair as she revealed it, he resisted the urge to find the nearest bucket of water and dump it over her head. Didn't she care? Perhaps not. If he remembered correctly, they inhabited bodies much like he inhabited clothes. But still, he took care of his clothes. Perhaps he could approach it later. He had washed and styled many heads of hair in his time. There was likely a good way to approach doing it with this one. Refocusing his thoughts, he nodded a few times. The doorway was something he was familiar with, and her method for creating it sounded vaguely like something he had briefly heard back in Zeltiva. He glanced up to the ceiling to follow her gaze, and spoke again, nodding briefly. "It is a good place. Those glyphs are supposed to protect against a variety of things. Fires and the such. I am not so sure how well they protect, but they are there just for that purpose. So hopefully well." Still leaning over with his chin on his hand, he absentmindedly tapped a finger against his lower lip, mind moving a mile a minute. "So, in summary. We need to clean this place for our use, perhaps set up a little workspace in the corner... and then we need supplies, at least enough to experiment with. We can go to Dev-something, and see if he has any ideas on simple projects we could do to get started. Does that sound about right to you?" He tilted his head slightly at the Nuit, raising a brow, wondering if he had clearly heard all of her words right. It sounded like an excellent plan to him. "Would you like to approach Dev while I get cleaning supplies and candles, or should I, or should both of us? I would like to get started as soon as possible, if you have the time. Do you have the time?" That reminded him. "Also. Speak clearly. No more stuttering." That was blunt. He didn't care. He was actually somewhat eager to start this partnership, but if they did, he needed to be sure he could understand what she was saying. "I understand if you are nervous around me, or if you are simply a nervous person in general. If it is an actual condition, I apologize. However, it seems to be something that exists because of your nerves and your nerves alone. Speak surely and freely with me. Partners, remember? I need an equal." He straightened, blue eyes burning into her own dark ones. "If you stutter, I'll kiss you." It wasn't the harlot flirting. It wasn't the harlot trying to sell a service, though normally people would buy kisses. He sensed her awkwardness around his seduction, around touch, and had seen that odd fear in her eyes when he had teased her earlier. It was the only weapon he had, and he was now using it. It wasn't manipulative, or at all sly. He was simply drawing a line, and dictating a punishment. The threat was clear. Even if it was a show, you have only seen a glimpse of the acting. Stepping toward her, he reached out a hand, firm and warm. His eyes continued to stay on hers, and he gave her the smallest of smiles. "So... Partners?"

[Isolde Seibold]

"Would you like to approach Dev while I get cleaning supplies and candles, or should I, or should both of us? I would like to get started as soon as possible, if you have the time. Do you have the time?"

"Y-Yes, of course. All the t-time in the world." The Nuit gave a wan smile, then nodded and continued on. "I c-can go stop by and s-see if Dev knows anything of use. I'm pretty sure I k-know where to find him." Ugh, but that was by the Bazaar, wasn't it? His... laboratory, or whatever it was called? Gods, she hated the Bazaar. Too many people, too loud, everybody in each other's faces and likely to trample poor, terrified Nuits into the ground without a moment's hesitation. She'd nearly drowned in the crowds before, getting pushed and shoved around. She just could not figure out how to weave expertly through, her reflexes weren't that good, and she certainly wasn't going to be elbowing people aside. And she was tiny in this body, making it even harder to get a good look to figure out where she was going. Still... perhaps if she headed out as soon as possible, the place wouldn't be so full. Not early morning. Didn't things usually heat up mid-morning to early afternoon? "I'll a-also stop by Undeniable Interests, and t-take a look at supplies there. I'd be more c-comfortable with this i-if we had some sort of book to get us g-going, or manual, or something."

"Also. Speak clearly. No more stuttering."

Completely taken aback, Isolde blinked at the harlot, one of her hands whispering up to pull her hood back uncertainly to cover her head. Jeez, she'd forgotten about the blue bruise that had gathered at the edge of her hairline; she had so many other aches and pains nowadays that that one barely managed to peep enough to catch her attention.

"I understand if you are nervous around me, or if you are simply a nervous person in general. If it is an actual condition, I apologize. However, it seems to be something that exists because of your nerves and your nerves alone. Speak surely and freely with me. Partners, remember? I need an equal." He looked her straight in the eye, and it was a struggle to keep her gaze on his, her dull blue stare wanting to drop the contact. "If you stutter, I'll kiss you."

His last words caught her so by surprise that the Nuit immediately stumbled out, "Wh-What?" She snapped her mouth shut and gave him a wide-eyed look, mutely willing him to stay back, to find it in his heart to forgive her this once. Certainly that one little slip wouldn't count. That had been something uncontrollable. A startled reaction. Because-- Because really? He couldn't be serious, could he? But the way he'd said it, so matter-of-fact, made her certain that he actually was serious, and she wanted to tell him that it wasn't that easy, that she couldn't just drop the stutter any time she wanted--

But then she thought of Razkar, telling her not to display her weakness to the world, and she'd certainly been able to work the stutter out for him, hadn't she? But, well, that was different, wasn't it? Razkar was-- well, he was terrifying. She had to listen to him. He was just so big, and he had a way of talking that sometimes left you unable to argue back, that quelled defiance. Plus. He was her teacher, and putting on her 'I-ain't-scared-of-you' mask had been in response to one of his lessons. A good student always listened to offered wisdom.

This situation was different. Entirely different. She couldn't just-- just-- turn it off, not here, not for Matthew. Because he wasn't commanding in the same way...

Or was he?
Her mind replayed Matthew's touch, his lips hovering over hers, and yes it was an act, just a show... but a pretty darn good one nonetheless. And what would happen when he came at her intending to teach her a lesson? What then? She knew for certain she'd be able to brush aside anything that he threw at her that was a variant of what he'd done earlier. Anything more than that and she couldn't imagine her response. She thought she was strong enough... but, well, she didn't want to give him a reason to get close again.

All of that snapped through the Nuit's mind an instant after she'd faltered out her stunned reply. Now she pursed her lips, looking warily across at him, and thought that the little shyke was too handsome and calculating for his own good. When she responded, it was very carefully. "I mean. I'll, uh, try my best. Partner." She stressed the last word, and when he stepped towards her, sticking out his hand, she took a step back, giving him what she hoped was a hard smile that brooked no argument. "Arm's length away, buddy." The Nuit pointedly used the full extension of her arm to reach out towards him, delicately taking his hand in her cool grip and giving it a single, businesslike pump before quickly releasing him. Already her words had taken on the crisp, almost cautious manner that Matthew himself sometimes spoke with. "There. Partners. But if I have to change how I talk to please you--" She almost staggered over the word 'please' and nearly lost the rest of the sentence. Take a deep breath. Let it out. Again. Again. There. Composed. She quickly tacked on the rest, acting as if she hadn't just almost strayed too close to the line drawn in the dirt. "--then you better be on your very best behavior. And I mean it." She puffed out another breath. "You get the cleaning stuff and candles. I'll handle the rest. Meet back here, alright?"

Gods, slipping out of the stutter was coming more and more easily to her. First Razkar, now Matthew. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't really just some sort of subconsciously-conceived defense mechanism to make her seem even less threatening than she already was, not an actual ailment at all. Could she talk like this to anyone as long as they commanded her to? Stranger yet, when she was forced to control her words instead of letting them tumble all over each other, well... they came out more confidently, coming closer to the tone she'd had back when she'd actually been alive. So weird. The Nuit just shook her head at this turn of events and waited for Matthew to head for the door first, deliberately moderating the distance between them.

OOCI figure we'll both just post our separated posts here to make this easy, yours of Matthew heading wherever to get his supplies and mine of Isolde going to get hers. Or, if Matthew's heading to the Bazaar to pick up anything they can walk together, if you want. Up to you. You can even link to another thread if you think that's better. I might do that, myself.