[The Welcome Home] A Home for Hopstop (Stitch)

[Hadrian]

Hadrian was slightly dismayed by the look on Stitch's face. Was that... hero-worship? He must have been mistaken; perhaps Stitch was just trying to make Hadrian feel like his tendency toward tangential monologues wasn't boring him. After all, he used Auristics to get around, and was probably much better at it that Hadrian. He flushed and mumbled something along the lines of, "they say when one loses a sense, the others get stronger to compensate," but the blind man was already up and running when he pulled the little animated butterfly out of his satchel, careful of the paper wings. With a sigh, he stared at the little thing spun out of copper wire. "Fly," he told it, putting the imperative of his will behind it. Djed reacted to such things, and he had trained the little golem to respond to that as much as the word, thus it would not react to someone simply saying the word. The entire frame shivered, the paper wings rustling, and then it began to flap those wings, rising off of his palm to flit about aimlessly as a cloud. He was still watching it perform its function when Stitch returned. Hadrian's chlorine blue gaze flicked toward him and his bowls. That had been fast.

[Stitch]

The effect that the little butterfly golem had on Stitch was amusing, to say the least. While he had once been moving with something of a sly smile on his face, as soon as his Auristic gaze caught the Aura of the delightful little bug, he stopped dead in his tracks. A raptured look crossed his face, much like the one that he had given Hadrian just minutes before. The little golem was something quite amazing to him, and Stitch's innocent self wasn't afraid to show it. As the golem puttered around the room, Stitch padded after it, genuinely delighted by the toy. To his eyes, it was a bright little ball of swirling golden hues, with a pure white core. Something was off about the core, as it gave him... a contained feeling. He wasn't so sure how to explain it, although it did make him wonder if there was an actual butterfly hidden within the cute little toy. No, that was silly. It was fun to chase after though. He couldn't help but lift a hand toward it, as if about to catch it in his palm. If Hadrian had any worries about the man grabbing the fragile item though, they would be put to rest, Stitch soon snapping his hand away. He turned to Hadrian, his features now guilty, like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Sorry, milord. This one couldn't help but want to touch it. This is a truly wonderful thing you have made, and the children are sure to love it! You are obviously a talented man, milord. You spoke of my art so intelligently, that this one thought you were an expert! And come to find out, you are an expert of many things!"

Stitch grinned, crossing the room to pat the man on the back, giving him a rather solid slap on the shoulder. "You must stay a little milord, so we can bond. You wouldn't have a problem with that, would you? This one knows you are a bit awkward with others, as you mentioned. You are welcome to leave, this one wouldn't want to keep you." Stitch motioned toward the door, a broad smile to his face. The smile was once again sly, and if Stitch had eyes, they would be twinkling devilishly. "Of course, this one wouldn't be able to let you go without you meeting the children..."

Right on cue, various young voices sprang to life outside. The children had somehow made it to the kitchen, to the front of the house, and were now playing on the sidewalk. There were two female voices lecturing two young males, who were mocking them in return. They were loud, obnoxious, demanding, and rowdy. And there was no way Hadrian would be able to avoid them if he was to walk outside.

Clever blind man.

"Of course, this one would be even happier if you would stay and help this one bake. This one is blind after all, and the children wanted to go play outside." Stitch's grin was even wider now, and the two bowls of chocolate cake mix had somehow found their way back into his hands. "So would you mind, milord? This one would appreciate the help."

Stitch paused, tilting his head back toward the flitting butterfly golem. "Out of curiousity, how does this one make it fly, and how does this one make it land?"

[Hadrian]

"I'm hardly an expert, Master Stitch," he assured the fatuous blind man. "I dabble in many things, but am an expert in none." If he was going to be entirely honest, he would say that he was a rather good enchanter, but he would rather follow his pattern of modesty in the hopes of finding greater and greater teachers to help him elevate himself to new levels of competence and confidence. "Bond?" he asked, confused. Was Stitch a kelvic or something? But just then he heard the sound of children and his gaze shifted quickly to track it. He was, it would seem, surrounded. "I, ah... I suppose baking a cake can't be too different from philtering a potion... All right." He should have just left the gifts in a basket like an abandoned baby with written instructions on how to make use of them. But he straightened and prepared to find the kitchen; he thought he smelled it, but it might just have been the chocolate on Stitch. "Oh, right. Well, there are three commands you can give it, but the word isn't enough. You have to focus your will as if you were actually telling a person or a pet to do something. It'll recognize the combination of a voice saying the command words and the subtle shift in the ambient djed." He was rather proud of the last part, but didn't say anything to that effect. "Fly makes it fly. Stop makes it stop. And die will make the magic run out of it and it'll just be a little piece of bad sculpture. As for Hopstop... you just have to say his name three times and he'll stop hopping around. When you touch him, he will start moving again. So if you want to put him away, I'd suggest grabbing him, holding him where you want him, and then saying the trigger really fast and letting him go. I'm not sure how to destroy him. I only assisted in his creation."

[Stitch]

Stitch nodded at the man's words, once more following the little butterfly around like an aimless child. He let his Auristic eye wander over it for a few moments, a wide grin spreading across his face before he finally decided his fun was over. "Thank you for the instructions, milord. This one loves the butterfly, and the frog! If this one continues to let this little pet fly about, then Lord Hadrian might not get much attention!" Stitch grinned, cocking his head toward the enchanter, raising one eyebrow underneath his white bandages. "Not that you would mind, right?" With a slight chuckle, Stitch quickly held a palm up, placing it right underneath the little construct. Focusing his mind on it, trying to gather up some of the will that Hadrian spoke of, he quickly stated the command. "Stop." The little golem instantly paused, wings stuttering to a stop, motionless body falling safely into Stitch's outstretched palm.

The man actually giggled a bit, cocking his head down to the toy in his hand to study the little thing. "Amazing, really!" Setting it down on the desk, and giving a quick glance about to make sure Hopstop wasn't bounce about, Stitch finally motioned for Hadrian to follow. Holding tight to both bowls of chocolate cake mix, Stitch led the enchanter through what looked to be a large playroom, and then off to the side and into the kitchen. The entire room was a mess. It was small, and rather cramped, and there was foodstuffs everywhere! Flour and chocolate decorated the walls, and there were several bags of knocked over ingredients laying on the floor, and on a small corner table. Stitch seemed to easily navigate his way through the maze, heading over to two large empty bowls he had set out earlier.

"Forgive the mess! This one and the children tend to get a little... chaotic." Stitch set down the two bowls of chocolate mixture, and gestured toward a little piece of paper sitting on the countertop. "There is the recipe. It is a two layer cake, one being vanilla, and the other being chocolate. Could you happen to help with the vanilla cake?" Stitch smiled at Hadrian, cocking his head questioningly.

There were certainly plenty of ingredients around, if Hadrian didn't mind getting them from the floor, walls, and countertops.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian followed Master Stitch to the kitchen, nodding and making appropriate noises to whatever was said. He had given up on getting the man to realize that he wasn't Lord Hadrian at all, and he wondered where the idea that Hadrian liked attention came from, but didn't question it. If the man's enthusiasm was painful, it was like warming one's numb hands before a crackling fire. When the numbness wears off, first comes pain, and then a blissful warmth. The children must be happy here, and Stitch seemed rather like a child himself, but Hadrian supposed there were worse ways to be. He let Master Stitch's monologue flow over him like water; not exactly white noise, for he was listening, but it was certainly an experience. Though he was not much of a cook himself, he knew the basics, and after washing his hands, he rolled up his sleeves and put on an apron. He didn't want his clothes getting soiled. First, he measured out flour, then began searching for oil, eggs, and extract of vanilla. There were probably other ingredients, but he hoped Stitch would chime in if something was forgotten. "Just think of it as philtering," he murmured to himself. Then, aloud, "Master Stitch, would you mind telling me more about yourself? How you came to Syliras and how you came to run this most excellent orphanage?"

[Stitch]

While Hadrian was going about things in the right way, Stitch was going about things in a way that was bound to painfully butcher the cake. He was adding ingredients to the chocolate bowl, that much was obvious, but all of the ingredients he was pouring into the bowl were horribly wrong. A line of boxes, containers, and raw materials had been set up for him, to help the blind man try and enjoy his odd choice for an activity. It was a rather brave task, considering he was blind, and that might be why he had set up such a system. In theory, the line would consist of the correct ingredients, ordered in the fashion that they were supposed to enter the bowl. Then, when there was a break in the ingredients, Stitch would give the bowl a hearty stir. Then came the eggs, then more stirring, and then a bit more different flavorings. Someone had messed with the dry ingredients, and the seasonings, though. Hadrian might deduce that Stitch had been going for a chocolate spice cake, with all the things he had been throwing in. There were plenty of dried candies and nuts, and a variety of different herbs... But that is where things went wrong. Stitch was applying herbs meant for main courses; herbs such as sage, garlic, and oregano. Had one of the children played a trick on him?

He still dutifully went about the task. Painstakingly cracking the eggs, making sure not to get any shell in. He measured out all the flour and seasonings, but it seemed to be a measuring system he came up with on his own. A pinch there, then perhaps a heavy pinch over here, and then maybe cupped handful right there. It was a wonder that the mixture was managing to stay whole, in the haphazardly way he was making it.

Stitch readily answered Hadrian's question, that bright smile still on his face. He continued going about his work as he spoke, but Hadrian would definitely get that sensation again, the sensation of two eyes settling upon his figure.

"This one was born in Syliras. As far back as this one can remember, this one was a part of the Orphanage. This one grew up here, with the original Orphanage owner. Having been here so long, after the original owner passed away, this one just assumes the Knights thought it might be best if this one continued running the place. They offered this one payment, and gave this one a bit of training." Stitch chuckled, his head tilting at Hadrian. "This one tries to follow it, but it is hard sometimes. The Knights are much stricter than this one would like them to be. They have good intentions though, this one believes."

Stitch fetched a few baking pans, laying them out for the two men. They were extremely beaten, showing signs of their age through cracked and chipped metal. They came in a few different shapes, consisting of circles, triangles, squares, and rectangles. Hadrian had a choice of how he would like to shape his cake, if the thought really mattered to him. In one corner of the kitchen, a tiny little oven was seated on the floor. A fire had already been brought to life in the tiny little stone contraption, and it was completely ready for the cakes. It was a rather rare thing to see in such a place, and Stitch was quite lucky to have it. Both the oven and the pans, as well as most of the kitchen equipment had been owned by the previous Lord.

"What about you, milord? If this one might ask, how did you happen to come to our castle?" Stitch's voice continued to stay happy, the smile still widely spread across his face.

[Hadrian]

Hadrian noted the haphazard way in which Stitch prepared his baking, but he was too polite, or too uncomfortable, to say anything. He supposed the children would be used to such zany recipes, and noted that Stitch apparently could not tell ingredients apart with his Auristics. Hadrian wasn't sure he could either, but that gave him a hint that perhaps Stitch was not so far ahead of him as he had originally thought. At least Hadrian's cake, if not a masterpiece, would taste like cake ought. Or close. "I was born and raised in Syliras," he said quietly, not really one to share too many details of his life. "My father, Trajan Aelius, is a merchant in town." This was a downplay, of course. Trajan was rather well-known throughout the Sylira region, and a bit beyond. One might call him a merchant prince. Trajan certainly did. And if Stitch paid any heed at all to gossip in town, he might have heard how Plotina, Trajan's wife, had recently passed. But Hadrian certainly didn't volunteer that. "I went to Zeltiva to study at the University once I was old enough. I settled on magic and anthropology, much to my family's dismay, but there are plenty of siblings to study economics if they wish." He paused then, not sure how to politely ask what he wanted to know. Stirring his bowl nervously, he gave it a try. "Pardon me, but if you grew up in Syliras, why do you speak differently from most natives?"

[Stitch]

Stitch was one to listen to the gossip around town, but not because he actively went searching for it. There were quite a few old ladies that made it a point to clean up around the front of his house, each and every day, and he always heard everything (which was too much) that he needed to hear. It wasn't like he actively listened, either. Sometimes they would almost be yelling the gossip, and sometimes they would actually seek him out in the house to share the latest juicy tidbit they had found. He usually listened with a polite ear, and then gently lectured them on the sins of gossip. He had found that it didn't really matter what he said though, that the old ladies were set in their ways, and that he was going to be subject to all the gossip in Syliras. No matter if he liked it, or if he didn't. So yes, he had heard quite a bit about Trajan, and yes, he had heard of the recent passing. He didn't mention either, merely nodded at Hadrian's short recollection of his history. "Your father has a lot to be proud of, milord. It appears as if you have grown into a fine young man." A slight smile was offered, and Stitch then re-focused his attentions on his baking, giving Hadrian a bit of time to form his next sentence. Stitch could feel it on the edge of the man's Aura, a curiosity that was afraid to unleash itself.

The blind man paused for a moment, his hand stopping in mid-stir, his head cocking. It appeared as if he had noticed something was up, as he was sniffing the air quickly, and was glancing back and forth between the assembled spices and his bowl. He focused his magical vision on the spice containers, scanning them briefly. There was something wrong here. The Aura of the actual container was getting in the way of the spice Aura, but there was definitely something off. Those weren't the same Auras he had been working with earlier. What had happened between now and then? All he had done was ask Damien to arrange them-

Ah. That would probably be it.

A little smile flickering on the corners of his lips, Stitch went about his stirring, although a bit more eagerly than before. It looked as if he had noticed his mistake, but hadn't cared. The cake was going to be horrible though, judging from the smell in the air. Even someone who hadn't ever baked a cookie in his life would be able to tell that.

Stitch cocked his head back toward Hadrian, listening closely as the man spoke. He tried not to full out smile at the nervousness in the man's voice, focusing instead on giving a clear answer. The answer was usually a bit confusing, to most. "This one picked up the old speaking habit of this one's old master, the former owner of this place. The master used to say that this way of speaking was a humbling one. Never speaking of one's self directly, and always referring to the other as someone of higher status. This one thought it was rather kind, unique, and that it indeed would be a polite way to go about things. Among other reasoning, it certainly does supply this one with some humbling. Walking up to a beggar, paying him coin, and wishing the Lord a good day? Very humbling indeed."

[Hadrian]

Hadrian ignored the compliment; they only made him feel unworthy and he didn't like such feelings. Of course, he pretended that he didn't need praise and that was a lie. He was still rather young, and while he was gifted, his pride was commingled with a sort of shame for standing out. Never had he stood out in the way his father had expected or desired. "But you are the master of this place," he protested gently, and then shut himself up. Of course, Stitch reported to the Knights, but so did everyone. Such deference seemed un-Syliran somehow, as the Knights rarely treated anyone the way that the Eypharians treated those beneath them on the socio-economic ladder. Instead he tasted his batter, letting the mixture of ingredients sit in his mouth to savor, then adding a bit more extract of vanilla to the blend. It was much like philtering, this work, though he rarely taste-tested his potions. The baking aspect, he was given to understand, was more of an art than a science. After stirring in the vanilla, he took another taster, approved and began to pour the batter into a waiting pan in which to bake. Meanwhile, as he listened, he began to multi-task as he often did, practicing a bit of magic here or there to keep his skills sharp. In this case, he focused on the food in his mouth, a mixture of different elements. Cooking, a wise woman had once told him, was a form of hearth magic, spellcasting that was often so primal that one didn't realize one was doing it. But Hadrian was aware. He began to convert the food in his mouth into soulmist, the way he had for Vance and for Cale, two ghosts who had found him in the spiritist shop. Ruminating on that while still keeping an ear open for what Stitch had to say, he idly ran his finger around the rim of the mixing bowl, all but unconsciously pushing res out through the tip of his finger to transmute into water. It wasn't meant to be flashy, and of course it didn't make sense to wash all dishes with such an expenditure of energy, but all these little practices helped him perform magic with greater ease, almost unconsciously once the method was properly understood. It didn't even occur to him that the blind man could see the sudden transformative glow in his mouth, about halfway between the wheel of energy that focused in a man's throat and the one termed the third eye, the seat of the auristic vision that they shared.

[Stitch]

Stitch had busied himself with beating the last of his flour in. He had been adding it in parts, then checking the batter with his finger, and then adding it in a few more parts. It appeared as if he was being quite careful with this step of the process, for some reason. When it had reached the desired thickness, Stitch scooped up his bowl in one arm, and headed over to the empty baking pan. Noting with pleasure that Hadrian had made it over to a pan already, Stitch began to fill up his own container. After it was full, he gave his bowl a toss toward a nearby washing station, landing it neatly in the tub of water. Grinning at his successful shot, he whistled a bit to himself as he gathered up both baking pans, striding over to the nearby oven. He lifted a foot, hooking the handle and yanking it down. A blast of heat filled the room, a flicker of fire obvious in the cooking contraption, and Stitch quickly tossed the pans in. Turning, he released the door, letting it slap back into place. He was treated with a dancing array of dazzling color emitting from Hadrian, the man invoking something that Stitch could only guess was magic. First, a burst of color in the man's mouth. To Stitch's examining eyes, it was a mystery on what had just occurred. One moment, there was cake batter, and then the next, something completely different. Something foreign, glowing with a misty kind of Aura. It was dark and gray, yet sparkled with white and black; if that could even be called "sparkling". He stepped closer, trying to keep the movement quiet, not wanting to disturb the enchanter if he was indeed focusing. The next act of magic occurred at his fingertip, his veins glowing brightly with Res, or something similar. It looked very much like the magic that Kamalia had used every so often. Stitch had learned from her that this "Reimancy", this Djed manipulation... It was a wondrous thing, yet so very dangerous. It could be addicting, and it could be harmful in so many different ways. This man though, he practiced it with much more finesse than Kamalia ever had. He had only seen big shows of magic from the Konti, but this man was being much more subtle. He was simply cleaning the rim of the bowl. Stitch made no sign that he had noticed the magic, and instead, crossed over to the sink. "Thank you for your help, milord. You are most welcome to take your cake home with you, once it is finished. You may also leave now if you wish, since you were so kind to stomach some more social time with this one. This one will make sure the children are kept at bay." A smile touched at the corner of Stitch's lips, and he cocked his head once more toward the man, trying to judge if the Enchanter knew that Stitch was simply teasing. The blind man dipped his hands deep within the dirty water, and went about scrubbing the dishes, quickly and efficiently cleaning them. "This one understands that this one's ingredients were switched around? Milord probably noticed, but Milord likely thought it would be rude to speak up? Do not worry, this one noticed. This one knows who did it, too." The orphanage owner paused for a moment, cocking his head back down toward his dishes, the smile growing on his lips. "This one will make sure the guilty party is the only one to enjoy the cake. After all, he was such a help in making it." Stitch chuckled to himself, whistling merrily once again as he went about washing the dirty pots, pans, and measuring utensils. Turning, holding out a hand for whatever dishes Hadrian might have, Stitch finally phrased the question that had been on his lips for a few minutes now. "Milord doesn't just practice Auristics, does he? This one is curious, but this one will understand if Milord doesn't wish to speak about it." The sentence was spoken softly, and seriously, all former amusement gone. Stitch knew this could be a sensitive topic, and he also knew all magic was to be taken seriously. Even conversations that simply referred to it.