A Meeting at Dusk (Elysium)

[Thomas Cosa]

60th of Winter, 515 AV

He'd spent the last year traveling. Running, maybe, depending what day he was asked. Thomas had been forced out of his precious Citadel, escaping into the wild seas of Mizahar. He'd spent seasons climbing the mountains of Kalinor, eventually nesting in the caverns of Kalinor. Laria had found him, or Cid had, and then sent the Eypharian after the him. Thomas still hadn't managed to get the question out of her, and any attempts at divination hadn't given him the answer he'd wanted -- and short of careful weeding through her entire life, something Thomas knew he'd have no time for, he was left guessing.

He'd tried asking Stranger, but the golem had stayed indeterminately quiet. Thomas had been so excited to see the golem, and barely allowed the creation to ever stray from his left wrist. It was much more fashionable than the old leather glove he'd used to wear.

Arriving to Lhavit had been a whirlwind. He'd been set up in a place called the Solar Apartments, a nice enough place. Not that he'd complain much after spending a good half season in a dim cavern, walking around blind and dumb. His auristics only helped so much, and he was as happy as he'd ever been walking in sunlight again.

Or he had been, until he'd found the letter. Crisp and trim, the envelope a delicate dusky purple scented with some kind of flower. Thomas had examined it carefully with his magic, his paranoia a well worn gift from Sahova that had kept him alive so far. He opened it delicately, impressed with it's ornate beauty. He hadn't wanted to tear it, but his curiosity demanded he do so.
...
The letter had said to meet at this strangely foreign tower named Dusk. He's spent a good bell looking for it, and was completely impressed with it's architecture. Like all of the buildings, apparently, it was made of glass. Only just opaque to hint at what happened behind, and beautifully rainbow. The letter had said to wait in the gardens, so he did.

[Elysium]

The Dusk Tower was lush and pastoral, though perhaps less so given the season. Those plants hearty enough to survive the bitter frost dotted the flowerbeds that lined the courtyard. It was mid-afternoon and with the sun just past its zenith the world was just barely cast in lavender shadow.

”Thomas Cosa," the voice said by way of greeting. The broad doors of Dusk Tower and their seeing eyes closed behind the lean figured man, his crop of silver hair somewhat untidy in spite of his finery.

”I’m glad to finally put a face to the name.” He said congenially as he walked. His long legs moved with practiced ease, putting him in harmony with his length and height rather than working against it. He extended a hand and were he able to, shook Thomas’ vigorously before gesturing for the boy to have a seat on one of the nearby skyglass benches.

”I’m Ald’gare Dusk, Patriarch of Dusk House.” There was the distinct impression of warmth beneath his dark eyes, something that was only amplified in his aura. While the vast majority of it was a thoroughly well-guarded and thoughtful golden brown, flecks of vibrant gold and vermillion seemed to emerge in the spaces closest to his physical form; small sparks of what one could surmise to be curiosity and further, genuine positive regard.

”Tell me, how was the trip from Kalinor? It’s the only place in the world that I've ever known as dark as the depths of the ocean.” He studied Thomas’ face impassively.

”Before I take this any further, I should tell you this is an interview. But relax.” The Patriarch said. ”We ought to first get to know one another - you as well as me. In Lhavit, we are very egalitarian in this way.”

Ald’gare indicated to the landscape laid out in front of them with a broad sweep of his hand. From where they sat, the jagged outline of the Zintia sparkled in the afternoon sun, busy with the usual scramble of workers. At a distance they appeared like so many tiny ants.

”How do you like our city so far, lad?” He asked. ”Tell me about your impressions.”

[Thomas Cosa]

Ald'gare, the man all grace and poise, surprised Thomas with a hearty, eager handshake. For all appearances, Ald'gare was delicate, a spidery wisp of inherited aristocratic elegance. The whole of his person was tailored, neat perfection -- even his hair, greying white and tussled, seemed intentional. His aura was the same, a perfect honey brown, although Thomas' spell caught specks of sweet golds and tangy vermillion, a deliciously familiar expression of thoughtful curiosity. Something the mage preferred heavily to the predatory wonder that haunted the dead eyes and auras of the Sahovan Nuit.

"I am happy to meet you, too, Patriarch Dusk," There was a brief hesitation before Thomas tried the title. He hadn't been sure as to how to address Ald'gare, but he doubted, even with all of the man's presented warmth and welcome, that he was expected to address such an influential figure by his first name. Patriarch Dusk made the most sense, and wasn't nearly as pretentious as Thomas' first guess -- his majesty Dusk.

The animator kept his auristic spell fueled and ready, his magic thoughtfully caressing the man's aura. Thomas hadn't yet seen anything terribly interesting, and his magic, mostly instituctual because of his own lack of education, hadn't yet been stirred into it's typical predatory frenzy. Lazy now, Thomas thought to himself, bits of information slowly popping into his brain as his magic skimmed along the pleasant honey warmth that was Ald'gare Dusk.

"The trip was relatively easy," Thomas shrugged, trying desperately to keep the growing paranoia from upsetting him visibly. The Dusk's had arranged the trip, and only now, in the cradle of western civilization that Thomas was beginning to worry. Laria certainly had, and despite the Ephyarian's eagerness to leave the spider's web, it was obvious she'd been uncomfortable allowing someone else organize her escape. Thomas had only been too quick to remind her that this may very well be their only chance to leave until Spring. "I did want to thank you for your and your family's support. My friend, she...well, we were worried she wouldn't make another season in the caverns," Thomas fell silently, awkwardly, not entirely comfortable with expressing gratitude -- especially not in a circumstance where he so obviously owed. When Ald'gare mentioned the interview, the animator was hard-pressed to hide his surprise. He'd been expecting something more along the lines of indentured slavery.

"Oh, uh, of course," Thomas bumbled, more suspicious than he'd been before. Getting to know each other? Egalitarian? The quietness of Ald'gare's aura had bothered him, but the honeyed words and warm welcomes disturbed the cavern survivor far more than anything he'd seen in Kalinor. "Lhavit is certainly different than any city I've spent time in before, Kalinor was so dim and dark in comparison and --," Thomas paused, wondering if Ald'gare knew about his time on Sahova as well. Surely, he had too? After all, Dusk had found him. "And Sahova, well, I'm not entirely sure if you know much about the eastern CItadel, but I'm only happy that nothing here has reminded me yet of that island," and it was true. He'd learn so much there, and while he was eternally grateful for Mashaen and Cid and Laria, he was quickly beginning to realize that the only thing that waited him there was death. Anywhere else, perhaps here in Lhavit, offered him opportunity and even safety.

"And of you? I was wondering how someone in Lhavit hears about a hardly important human in Kalinor?" He asked, desperately trying to hide the suspicion from his voice. What kind of job was he looking for from Thomas? What would motivate a man with seemingly everything, to pay his way all across the Kalea mountain range?

[Elysium]

"Please," he responded, lips twitching "call me Ald'gare."

The Patriach affected a thoughtful expression at his questions. They didn't appear to be unwelcome, but it was obvious he was choosing his words with care. His energy remained static for the most part but gently and steadily, threads of purple began to surface in his otherwise amber aura. Thomas might perhaps, note that he made no discernible attempt at shielding himself from the boy's magic. However he chose to take that, that judgement would be his own.

"Very shrewd, young man." he remarked quietly. "Though I had no doubts about you, given your reputation. Years spent amongst the Wizards of the Citadel have clearly sharpened your wit to a keen edge, though there is no need for such distrust here in the City of Stars."

At his hip, there was a canteen. It was dark and embellished well enough that one could perhaps mistake it for a satchel or some kind of decoration, but upon closer inspection it could be identified by the cork stopper that sealed the neck. It vibrated noticeably but if Ald'gare observed it, there was little way to tell.

"Very well," he agreed, as if he'd been negotiating with himself. The purple throughout the vast network of his djed became expansive. It was the color of purpose in this instance, nobility, a deluge of passion and wisdom. The color consumed all others and by extension, the softness of his eyes faded. Instead there was a sharpness in his gaze that gave the impression of a hawk. His spine straightened with the bearing of a true lord of the city.

"I spent time as an apprentice myself, then a Wizard. It is how I've learned all that I have about politics, for certainly the atmosphere in this city does not lend well to intrigue, not where such integrity abounds." The man seemed almost distant, drawn for a moment into a memory before it faded.

"I was a rebellious youth," he added dryly. The canteen began vibrating with fervor. He continued to ignore it.

"Living to tell the tale has endowed me with an appreciation for those who live in the darkness, but wish to step into the light." He eyed the young Mage sidelong and it was apparent where the conversation was headed next.

"Tell me, Thomas Cosa. What is your wish? Have you aspirations for peace or is your mind still at war, abstracted from the fortress of the dead?"

[Thomas Cosa]

Lavender and violet popped along his honeyed amber aura, a chorus of sopprano echoing strange and unfamiliar. Thomas frowned, perplexed. It was becoming increasingly rare for him to encounter something he couldn't understand, and yet, Thomas found he was even able to guess as to it's meaning. The wizard noted Ald'gare Dusk's aural clarity, and it wasn't lost on the man that the Aurist might be allowing him more insight than he deserved. This, more than anything, suprised him.

He listened carefully, his eyes only moving from Ald'gare's own as something vibrated enough to catch his magic's attention. For a split second, the leather pouch - for that is what Thomas saw it as, even under his magically enhanced sight - moved. His spell pounced like a kitten, it's interest piqued and wild. There was an intelligence to it, foreign, but real, which only made him more confused. This man, who openly confessed himself an apprentice, had, for some reason, an intelligent leather pouch.

His eyes opened wider when Ald'gare's aura expanded, the soft man becoming a regal power before him. No longer did he seem just friendly, but commanding. Decent, honest, and the man seemed to posses an intelligence far supassing the animator's own. Thomas, ever self-important, was for the first time outside the Citadel, humbled.

Why? Why did he save him? Why did he bother with him? Despite himself, he couldn't help but compare Ald'gare with Mashaen, another who sought to help him. Sahova had mutilated kindess, even with Mashaen and Cid and Laria, to the point of suspicious. Kindess offered freely, was even more suspect.

"Then you know then, how the Citadel changed me," Thomas whispered, suddenly and inexplicably ashamed, "Paranoia kept me alive, and fear kept me aware. Everything and anyone was a danger, and my magic was hardly enough to keep me alive. For years, I lived this way," he sighed, pausing, weirdly aware of his self, how he changed, "I want nothing more than peace. Peace of mind, peace of self. Why wouldn't I?" He asked, his magic swallowing any and all information it could collect. He would know this man, he would understand why. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't constantly at war with myself, with my motives. How did you do it? How did you survive the Citadel as yourself? Who helped you?" The last question was thrown like a dagger, accusingly. How had he managed what Thomas could not? How had Ald'gare saved his humanity?

[Elysium]

"In order to survive the Citadel, people change. It is almost inevitable." Ald'gare looked at Thomas gravely. His dark gaze was penetrating. It was obvious he was conducting his own thorough analysis, though this was something the mageling could only infer. The pouch at his hip stilled slightly, though it was still active. Nearby, a kingfisher trilled its joyful song.

Ald'gare offered him a mysterious smile. He heard his questions but elected not to answer right away. Instead, he peered wistfully off into the distance, as if considering how exactly to phrase what he wanted to say next.

"When a person's actions and their values are at odds with one or another, one of the two must change. A person cannot act outside of the realm of their basic perspective... Not for very long."The man stretched slightly and his body replied with a fusillade of cracks. His eyes grew weary. Resignation could be felt in his essence for only the briefest of moments before it was pushed away.

"I justified my behaviors. The patterns of thought you refer to... I remember them well." He looked at Thomas sagely. While satisfied by the boy's sincerity, there was still something that seemed to be seeking, though perhaps it was no longer looking for simple truth. He rose from his seated position in favor of standing and the fine fabrics of his clothing rustled in the stiff mountain breeze.

"Thomas," he began, peering off toward the Zintia. "Do you see those people there?" He gestured to the tiny figures as they scrambled hither and yon up and down the mountainside, laden with whatever it was they needed to conduct their affairs. The color, the constant movement, the beautiful simplicity of skyglass and stone seemed to typify the city as it was. Lhavit, a placed unlike all other places. It was a magic all unto its own.

"I like it here, because as I watch it reminds me that I am human. They are human. We are all living lives within the barriers we set. Those barriers are the limits of our perspective." He turned to face the boy.

"I helped me. Just as you have helped yourself. Do not reduce your own strength or resilience. I've looked into your heart and seen that you're sincere. But also, unbroken." He smiled. There was intensity burning in his onyx eyes. The kingfisher darted from tree to tree. The sound of running water could be heard nearby and within the long stretch of the garden was a fountain. Ald'gare stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You're a quick witted boy. Intuitive. Ambitious, but with a rare sense of self. But also, I think you need time to understand a different way of life, here." He looked Thomas up and down and saw a boy who was mostly bone, worn thin by a life of abstraction and time. There wasn't as much humanity as when he started. He was like an elastic band, stretched to its limit.

"Have you ever taught, Thomas?" He asked. "Taught a class of students to do what we do?"

[Thomas Cosa]

Thomas listened carefully to Ald'gare, but mostly, he was watching. Drips of silvered consciousness beaded around the aura, flittering between the pouch and man; had Thomas not been so obsessed with pulling everything from the Citadel-survivor before him, he might have encouraged his magic's interest. Instead, he demanded it bubble and boil around the tower patriarch, forcing bits and pieces of colored emotion to surface as much as he could.

He recognized Ald'gare's gaze enough to know he was being examined, thought about and anaylized -- but without magic, as far as Thomas could tell. Surprise rippled out from his core, upsetting his spell into a frenzy as it dashed into the amber aura again, desperate to find anything to suggest his suspicions correct. He hated himself for it, not having enough control to squander his fears, his paranoia, but he'd be a fool not to; whether he wanted to trust Ald'gare or not, his own instincts had kept him kicking far longer than he'd even known about the man before him.

A sharp crack sounded, and he flinched visibly as the perfect honey amber aura softened with a million dying-ember-red lines of resignation. Again, he was surprised and humbled by the Ald'gare's transparency. Others had dodged and hidden from his magic, clung stubbornly to their emotions and thoughts despite him, and yet Ald'gare offered everything willingly. Why? He suspected the man more than capable of hiding himself as easily as he showed his colors to Thomas, so why would he choose to be so open?

"So I should break those barriers?," Thomas guessed, hardly caring to tear away his magic from Ald'gare even as he turned towards the side of the mountain. People, poignantly insignificant to him from here, strided with foreign purpose up and down the unbalanced edges of Lhavit. The city itself was incredibly juxtaposed, he decided, the beautiful wildness of the lower mountains in perfect view of the refined settlements of skyglass. It was a funny thought how close to death they all were, so close to the Unforgiving. Did these people ever think of that, he wondered. Certainly he hadn't, not until that moment. "Or do I strive to stay kept inside?," he asked, not entirely sure what Ald'gare was suggesting. Yes, he felt human, but hadn't he always? Mortal and dying like those he watched struggling up the cliffs. His humanity was missing, he wanted to argue, not his mortality -- or was he missing the point? Were the two tied together more than he wanted to admit? As ridiculous as it sounded, was being human as simple as being able to die?

"Teaching magic?," Thomas asked, his words tangled in a forced breath that may have almost been a scream, "No, never," he replied, collecting his expression before turning from the mountain to Ald'gare. Surely, he'd heard wrong? But of course, if this was job that was being offered, Thomas couldn't afford to turn him down -- if he hadn't just petched the whole of the interview just then. The man had saved him, and was even maybe offering him a job -- even Thomas could never hope to be so rude. "I was more of a wizard than a teacher on Sahova. I was dedicated to solving the complexities of conscious life in respect to animations," he added hurriedly, hoping secretly that Ald'gare would take more interest in him as an animator than a teacher. What could he offer a student they couldn't find in some book? Or perhaps the better question, what would he offer a student at all?