Closed Two Way Street

[Eithne]

70 Spring, 516AV

Eithne had never been especially fond of parties. She preferred the feeling of bone and dirt and wooden surfaces under her fingertips and was wholly unfamiliar with the sensation of silk. While she’d lived in Lhavit for more than a few years, her roots in Sunberth had made the half-breed averse to large social gatherings and excessive grandeur. Brandishing wealth only made you a target, and large crowds were easy pickings for pickpockets. But despite her protests she’d been convinced by her sister to at least enjoy this festival, if not for herself but for a chance to experience a remnant of the city’s history.

At least, that was what she told herself when she squinted at her own reflection in the mirror. The dress she wore was not so much a dress, but a pair of loose garments in a pearly shade of silk that complimented the strange lustre of her flesh. The excessive jewels she could have done without, and her eyes nearly watered with the amount of kohl that covered them, but Eithne had to give it to her sister… her choice of attire was at the very least flattering on her person, despite her lack of womanly curves.

And yet, as she stood on the precipice of the large crowd that had gathered in the plaza, Eithne squeezed the mask in her hand. This was clearly a mistake, she thought idly, glancing warily at the growing sea of bodies. With her new… powers, it was a very likely reality that people could get hurt. But though her sister was nowhere to be seen at least her icy stares were keeping the opportunistic gentlemen at bay. She was a wizard, not a princess dolled up for the dance, couldn’t they understand that? Eithne crinkled her nose in annoyance and pooled strands of djed into her eyes, activating her auristics in a half-arsed attempt to locate her wayward sibling . The power of vision was still as overwhelming as her newfound ability to combust. A vast sea of smoky colours enveloped each person, colours that she couldn’t decipher and whose sheer presence was already manifesting a charged headache.

Focus, Eithne, she willed. The djed in her gaze seemed to cinch like a tunnel and caught the visage of a woman she’d chosen out of the crowd, only twenty or so feet away. The taste of lavender slowly filled her mouth, but it was faint, and the cause was unknowable. In her stubbornness, she kept her auristics charged, despite the rapidly growing migraine… until a jolt on her airy pant leg promptly broke her concentration, evaporating the djed in her eyes.

“For you, miss!” A pair of small hands extended toward Eithne, holding a small bouquet of vibrant indigo flowers. The petals were softly rounded and she could smell a distinct sweet scent from them that drowned out all other scents in that moment.

“What are these?” Eithne asked. She was more than surprised at the random display of kindness, and she couldn’t help but feel as though there was an underlying motive from the girl and her sweetly smelling flowers. This isn’t Sunberth, she mentally kicked herself. She’d been living in Lhavit for years yet that instinct to distrust was still as strong as ever.

“Keokina, miss, it’s for you. Keep it!” The bells in the girl’s dark hair tinkled when she turned and skipped away. Eithne watched her retreat with both confusion and admiration, the bouquet held gingerly in one hand. If the girl could find some enjoyment out of this frivolity, why couldn’t she? Because there’s more important things in life, her lips twitched in amusement as her gaze settled on a line of stands overflowing with an abundance of goods. Like food.

By sheer attrition, she weaved her way through the throng of people, pushing past men and women adorned in all the shades of alabaster. But the more she tried to push the further away she seemed to get. The crowd was moving like the current on the open sea, and Eithne could have sworn she could hear the sound of music playing in the distance. “Oh no,” she breathed. “Get me out. Move.” She shoved at a pair of women, squeezing between them, only to slam right into the back of another man and in that moment, the bouquet of keokina flowers she’d been holding burst into flames.

oocI decided to forgo the sort of mundane simple meet and greet in favour of something interesting that could act as a catalyst to their meeting, I hope that's alright with you!

[Thomas Cosa]

Thomas stood, dressed ostentatiously curtesy of the Dusk Tower, in all white. Roberto, one of their many tailors, had been generous enough to suit him, although Thomas had been anything but polite. The wizard had whined and complained, quick to point out what he didn't like and characteristically quite about the things he did. A representative, they'd called him encouragingly, promising he'd enjoy the festivities. He'd rolled his eyes at that, already convinced he'd hate it.

Three drinks in, and the animator discovered the Star Festival to not be as horrible as he'd thought. The whole of it was very pretty, very Lhavit. Everyone, him included, dressed in white, each person masked by elaborate creations of shine and glimmer. His own mask was diamonds, he was sure, only because it too was a loan from the Dusk Tower. The Dusk Family was more than impressively wealthy, and was always happy to flaunt it, he'd quickly found. It was silly, but he couldn't deny he enjoyed the looks of envy.

"Thomas, is that you?" A voice called, shrill and disgustingly familiar to the mageling.

"Sheryl. What a pleasure," Thomas managed a smile, but couldn't care enough to lift his voice from boredom. Sheryl, another Aurist from the Dusk Tower, was everything he wasn't: perpetually happy, an encouraging teacher, and perhaps most offensively, a better Aurist than Thomas. "They hadn't told me they'd be sending another representive. Or are you here by choice?"

Sheryl blinked at him, confused for a tick before she cracked into high-pitched laughter, "Oh, Thomas, I always forget how absolutely serious you are! How droll," she sipped her drink, as aggressively pink liquid. Gods, even her drinks annoyed him. "We aren't really representives, not in the way you think. We're more props than actors in the Towers' little rivalry: the Dusks have money, so they like to show off when they can. I think they think a bit better about parading their staff around in obvious luxuries by telling us we're representatives," she paused for another sip, and he joined her. She was right that he'd thought it more of an honor than it really was, and now it all made sense why Roberto had made it through his entire fitting without so much of a harsh glance Thomas' way. A chance at having his clothes worn by a connection of one of the Towers? Thomas wondered how much money they'd promised him in recommendations alone. "And don't be so dramatic. Of course you have a choice, you don't see Alan here, do you?

"Obviously, I had a choice, Sheryl," his tone sliced her name, his pride hurt. "It was a joke, one that you apparently didn't get," Thomas huffed, reaching for another glass, this one filled with pink fluff and something bubbly. Champagne, if he was lucky.

Sheryl laughed, determinedly oblivious to his insults and annoyance, "Well, this is my third drink of the day! You know, I hope I make it to Zintilla's appearance, but these drinks are only too --," she stopped mid-sentence, her neck stretched as she craned over him, "Oh, I think that's Talora! I can never tell, all these Etheafal look the same to me, so damn perfect! I have to go and see, I haven't spoken to her in ages," she smiled at Thomas, offering him a quick wave as she darted off into the crowd.

"Thank Avalis she's gone," he said to himself, reaching for another drink before he was slammed. He cursed loudly as something behind him burst into flame, the burning electric sense of magic rushing up his spine. There was laughter behind him, someone calling out, "Someone's had enough!,", before someone else laughed, "I've got it!" And a sudden wave of water splashed him.

He turned around, annoyed and wet, looking for the guilty party. "Gods, this place and their idiot magicians. This was a rental, you know? I doubt the Dusks will be happy to have me return their clothes wet, so I hope you have a big enough wallet to compensate ," he hissed, still grasping his drink. That, at least, hadn't fallen.

[Eithne]

I did it again, Goddess. She wanted to kick herself internally. She knew something would happen, and yet she still blindly followed her sister's advice to enjoy what she could from the festival. Well now, she might as well have been a candidate as the instigator of someone's demise. Luckily, it had not been a person she had set fire to, but before she had a chance to fully panic over the burning bouquet of keokina roses in her hand, water plummeted onto her and the man she had stumbled into.

Startled, Eithne jumped. Water dripped from her drenched hair and soaked into her garment. White fabric and water was not an agreeable combination, and the result left patches of her skin vaguely exposed. Her face turned a light shade of pink, and the man's words would have been lost on her had she not been squeezing the sad, crisped bouquet in a white knuckled grip. What a pompous little... Eithne inhaled sharply, wiping her brow to avoid the water getting into her finely crafted makeup.

"I hardly care about your rental," Eithne retorted with a snap, traces of sibilant speech seeping into her words. "It wass an accident, alright? And besidess, I didn't throw the water on your ssilly clothes, ssomeone elsse did." She glanced behind her, toward the crowd. But almost as quickly as the fire had ignited, it was completely forgotten. There was laughter and jovial greetings all around her and here she was, soaked, cold and holding a burnt bouquet. At least she wasn't alone in being wet.

What was worse is she couldn't just admit to this stranger that she had a power she had no control over. She couldn't even admit it to herself. The thought still made her fingers twitch anxiously. "Perhaps you should tell the Dusks not to rent to people who go to such large festivities. You're bound to be covered in filth by the end." The crowd was making her irritable. She disliked being surrounded, with no visible way of escape. "Move. I need to put some proper clothes on." Her words came out like a hiss, her eyes looking at him as though he was the gatekeeper to her freedom.

He was put together well, even despite the sopping fabric, she would give him that, and in a way, there was something about him that spoke to her curiosity. She was not normally so abrasive, but her frustrations with her lack of control and the jostling crowd was pushing her over the edge. She wanted nothing more than to throw the bouquet at his face and push past him, but she forced herself to breathe through her nose, glancing anywhere but his face momentarily.

"Sorry," she began again. "I just need to get out of here, so if you could just... move out of the way, I would appreciate it."

[Thomas Cosa]

Thomas stared, wet and disbelieving, at the young stranger. She was dressed in ivory silk, he guessed, some sort of billowy pantsuit. She was bone thin and bone pale, her body as lanky and shapeless as his. This he noticed with a passing glance, her words and attitude, unfortunately, winning most of his attention.

"Excuse me?" He almost spit his drink, his tone pitched and offended. "Who are you to speak to me?" He asked, his voice quivering with a barely contained rage, "Who are you to --," Thomas started, his fist clenched, a sudden flash of twilight lavender from her right, his left. Suddenly, and against his intentions, he was thrown into the Chavi. The world around him, all ivory and pearl basked in the gilded afternoon light, collapsed into abstract. Delicate threads, weaved in Fate and Time, colored and lit his vision. The stranger's history coiled around his, the Chavi eclipsed by a single memory.

She was upset. Her sister, the name escaping the memory, had forced her into this. A sea of white. Magic. She was using magic to see, like Thomas. Blurred and tired, the spell died. She wasn't an accomplished wizard, no. Suddenly she had flowers. Unwanted, not needed, useless. She wanted to leave, she wanted to go. There were, there are so many people. Panic. Her magic flowed, uncontrolled, and bloomed into fire.

He blinked, back in time. She, whoever she was, was trying to move past him. Was she also affected by the fountain's power? Hadn't she heard the rumors? And why hadn't she sought the Tower's tutorship? One of the three specialized in Reimancy, he knew, but the name escaped him. Thomas realized there were a couple more questions he'd like her to answer, and he didn't have the time to relive her entire history in an effort to find them.

"I'll know you can't control your magic," he breathed, his voice hardly a whisper. They were surrounded by laughter and joviality, and Thomas was almost sure no one was paying them much attention; sure, they were both drenched, but the rest in attendance were too drunk, and as eager as Sherly to catch Zintilla's appearance, whenever that would be. "I'll tell them all, every single one, if you don't follow me," Thomas threatened, not entirely sure what the repercussion of untrained magic was in Lhavit. Based on his own dealings with the city, he imagined it must be something similar to mandatory Tower lessons. Everyone here was just so eager to help. It sickened him.

"I have questions," Thomas added, turning to leave. He would make his way to a covered bench he'd seen at the entrance of the gardens, quiet and hopefully abandoned. If she didn't follow, well, it wouldn't be too much work to find a Shinya guardsperson.

[Eithne]

Eithne stared at the ebony-haired stranger like he had a slug on his face. Who was she to speak to him? Him? Had she just treaded on the toes of a man far beyond her station? To be fair, it wouldn't be surprising, as she was just a lowly mageling, living day by day with nothing she could truly call luxury to her name. But him? Her eyes narrowed and she scrutinized him like one would a beggar on the street. She was about to open her mouth to retaliate his pontification, having more than just a few swears lined up, until he'd abruptly paused. Eithne blinked, closing her mouth. His eyes seemed distant, as though he was looking at something, but when she glanced over her shoulder, she could find nothing out of the ordinary.

Did I just give this man a heart attack? It would definitely be the first time, but she also didn't want to deal with a medical emergency in the middle of the crowd. She was tense enough as it was. "Hey," she snapped her fingers in front of his face, but as far as she could tell there was no response. Should she call for someone? How could she possibly drag both him and herself through this blasted congregation of people?

Fortunately, her plans for a medical rescue wouldn't become necessary. When he finally blinked, she let out an exhale, as though in relief. What she hadn't been expecting, however, was his sudden breathless whisper, admitting that he knew about the power she'd acquired. Her face betrayed her stunned silence.

"How.. how do you know that?" She demanded. The half-breed didn't sound angry, or even distraught, no, she was amazed. She'd never told anyone, not even her own sister about the reimancy she'd precariously inherited from the fountain's waters and as far as she could remember, she'd never seen this stranger in her life. There was something in the back of her mind that told her that he was more than he seemed. But as the threat left his lips her look of amazement became incensed.

This petching little... She bit her lip. Making a scene would do her no good, and she'd been taught better than that. Like Thomas, she was not aware of how Lhavit dealt with wayward mages, and the half-breed, frankly, didn't want to find out. The promise of questions, however, was the only thing that had piqued her interest. He wanted her for something and her insatiable curiosity wanted to know what that something was.

"Fine," Eithne relented. The crowd had thankfully subsided enough for her to follow in his steps with relative ease. Compared to the chaos of the plaza, the gardens were quaint and were permeated with the scent of flowers. Without the heat of a hundred bodies around her, she could at least enjoy the breeze.

She did not sit, but instead remained standing near the bench, her arms folded over her chest. "How do you know I even have magic?" She questioned him immediately. "Let alone can't control it." That was what she wanted to know, here and now. What sort of powers allowed him to glean that sort of information? "Who are you?"

[Thomas Cosa]

"Gods, you're brass," he laughed, obviously at her. His magic stirred up, threading deep inside her aura, holding it as best he could as he watched for her colors. She was refreshingly obvious and bright, her emotions bold and colorful. There was shock, purple and clamoring loudly, crying for attention. Annoyance and anger ablaze in an offensive red, like a rash. There were more, a smorgasbord of fantastical expression, at his leisure. There was a creeping thought, a suggestion of their similarities, not only the physical but how readily she felt, but Thomas dismissed this quickly.

He wouldn't compliment this woman by even thinking they were one and the same.

"I know about your magic the same way I know about your Auristics," Thomas smiled, his tone happily condescending, "Because you are painfully transparent," he added, his words carrying as if he'd simply commented on the weather instead of delivering an insult. "And so many questions from someone who's obviously not in the position to be asking anything. So curious, how completely out of touch this city's wizard population is -- I'll tell you, I never thought I'd find a wizard so stupid as to not realize she was at a disadvantage," his magic cracked at her aura like a whip, coiling around her deep scarlet aura like a snake, suffocating the emotion right of out her. The colors rose to his spell, seeking escape, and he quickly dissected each one as best he could; it was impossible to know every one, or even the majority, she was simply to bright, too colorful. "If you were in any other city, I assure you, you wouldn't have lived so long." She beat with life and magic, not as strongly as he or some of the other's he'd discovered, but the electric power of Djed lingered in her, scarred and purple.

"Anyway, enough advice. Your idiocy impresses me, so I'll give you my name," he brushed petals off his lap, shooting an annoyed glance at the offending rose bush, "Thomas Cosa. You may address me as Thomas," he offered it as a suggestion, although it most certainly wasn't one. "So, let's get to the point. Did you drink from that damned fountain? When? How much?" Thomas asked, his tone brisk and business-like. While she might be willing to go every which way setting the city ablaze, he would prefer if he could find out the source of his power, and others, and the fountain rumors seemed the best place to start.

How fortunate he found this stranger, whoever she was.

[Eithne]

oocI'm so sorry for the late response!

Brass? She thought, incredulously. I'm the brass one? The twitch of a smirk met her lips at his accusations. His tone was more than just condescending to the maledictor, it was downright insulting, but Eithne was never one to quarrel. Ever since she'd been a child, she'd learned to be evasive, much like her iyvess father. It was better to lead the eye away than to be trained like a target.

But what became unsettling to her was his declaration of acknowledgement about her magic, even her Auristics. A shadow fell across her slitted eyes and she narrowed them almost dangerously. While she was not much of an instigator of fights, she relied largely on her gut instinct and mental fortitude. And though her instinct told her to smack this pompous pontificator across the mouth, she refrained from doing so, instead offering a defensive smile.

"Are you threatening me?" She asked plainly. Her entire day had been a mess of stress and imposed expectations, and now, it only seemed to be turning for the worst. The maledictor couldn't even begin to understand why this man was assaulting her with barbs and thinly veiled threats, but it was for a reason that would benefit himself, that much she could deduce. He wanted answers from her that no other person should rightly care for.

"I assume you must be one of those self-righteous wizards then," she finally stated with an unsurprisingly look. "An Aurist as well? Is that how you knew about my curse?" She called it a curse, but she knew it was magic; but any magic that she could not control was a blight upon her person.

He threw more jabs at her though she shrugged it off with a deadpan stare. Her time among the roaming gangs of Sunberth left her easily immune to such attacks to her intelligence. He wanted to think himself above her, let him.

"You must be someone very important, Mister Cosa, my apologies," she retorted, purposefully ignoring his brisk suggestion as to the use of his name. She'd never heard of a Thomas Cosa before. Unsurprising. "I'm sorry," she continued with a frown. "I'm a bit slow, you see. Did the fountain interest you?" Her voice was laced with sarcasm and she idly wondered if this man was the type to pop like a ripe cherry.

Eventually, she waved a hand. "So I'm not the only one, I suppose. I drank on the day it appeared. I don't shy from the unknown, as stupid as that may sound. I'd hoped to have gleaned information from those waters. Like memories of far off lands or visions of a future. Fancy tales. In the end, it bit me in the arse. How much?" She tapped her chin. "A good amount. Perhaps enough to fill a waterskin."

Her eyes wandered toward the trio of bushes and their spindly flowers reaching toward the sky. "Though no one would care for those sorts of questions unless they drank from it too, no, Mister Cosa?" Eithne offered him a cursory glance, a slight incandescent gleam to her predatory eyes.

[Thomas Cosa]

"Threatening you?" Thomas echoed, a quick bark of a laugh escaping him. "I already did -- that's why you followed me, isn't it? I wouldn't think I would need to do it again, don't you?"

His magic, thrilled with the novelty of her aura, flicked in and out of it's depths, splashing out pieces of shallow emotion. Thomas hadn't yet fully controlled his own fountain-given magic, but his voiding episodes had decreased significantly since his training with Vick. He didn't trust himself completely with personal magic, not yet, but he was willing to risk a bit more these days. His magic, eager to be allowed to scour, picked out her rage and offense, and reveled in it's blood-red thickness. She smelled sour and heavy like smoke and sweat, her aura a brittle orange that faded into a muddy yellow at the edges.

"And such assumptions! And without proof, too" Thomas made an awkward noise, a uncomfortable match of a snort and a tisk, undecided, but eager to show his disapproval, "You could know the answers to both, quite easily I imagine, knowing Auristics. Unless you're unable to control that magic as well?" He asked, wondering if she was marred by the fountain in that same way he'd been - his voiding spells had overtaken his magical ability for a few weeks, and he was eager to discover another with the same affliction, if only to prove he wasn't alone.

Thomas sighed at her sarcasm, perhaps louder than usual in an effort to prove he wasn't impressed with her efforts, "Oh! Such sharp words! Hasn't anyone told you the dangers of idiots using daggers? You might stick yourself" he teased, his smile stretching into a painful smirk. Thomas hadn't expected any resistance from her, and wasn't thrilled to find her aura all needles and poison. She was lucky, whoever she was, that he hadn't made good on his original threat to approach the Shinya! Still, he could at least attempt to keep his cool, if only to prevent them both from falling into the cold oblivion of the void.

"Again, you aren't really in the position to be asking questions? So imagine that I did drink the fountain if you like," Thomas started, his voice a bit more shrill than before, his spine chilling with a sudden cold, that he mistakingly ignored. He was in a desired position, why think he would fall into one of his episodes now? "And I don't think an interest in the curiosities of this world is entirely unfounded, but yes, drinking first out of a strange fountain is stupid," he shivered, once again ignoring the the symptoms of his episodes because it was only Spring, and why wouldn't there be the odd cold front? No matter how close they were to Summer. "Someone smart would have waited out, only to drink after it was deemed safe and valuable. Risks are hardly ever rewarded," he answered, his voice low with a quite disgust. Obviously smart person would have waited, is what he'd been telling himself since he drank from the fountain.

All the while he stared her down, demanding his answers, a tear in reality was developing behind him. It was small, hardly larger than a fly, but it was there, floating and empty and cold. More importantly, it was unnoticed by Thomas, which made it all the more dangerous.

[Eithne]

"I don't claim to be a skilled Aurist," she retorted on the subject of her Auristics. "There is always room to grow, but it seems you have a good grasp on yours, and I can respect that, no matter the pompous shite that seems to spew from your mouth." She gave him a quirky smile, her words not at all laced with animosity. The man seemed to put himself on a pedestal as high as a horses' head but he had some skill to back it up, and Eithne always found admiration in anyone who studied the arcane. Such a path led to solitude more often than not, at least anywhere but Lhavit.

And yet he kept insulting her intelligence! She sort of wondered if she looked the part of an idiot with her garish attire, or if this "Thomas Cosa" was just truly an ugly character at heart. The jibes did little to deter her pursuit of information about this mysterious fountain, but the conversation was making her far more impatient than she normally ever was.

"Yes, theoretically, let's imagine," she agreed, watching him with her arms folded over her chest, pale slitted eyes observing his body language. Something had changed, she could sense it on her tongue, like a tremble in the air, but she didn't know what. The pitch wasn't lost on her, and for a moment, her brow was raised in curiosity. "On the contrary," she retorted, "Risks are what brings us closer to the answer."

Of course any sane person would have told her not to drink from the fountain, but perhaps she wasn't entirely sane after all. The Unknown sang to her like a Konti's Call, and perhaps, deep down in her bones, that was all she ever wanted; to experience the things that others shunned, to appreciate the lost and unwanted things. And when Thomas paused, Eithne's eyes flicked toward the disturbance in the air, her eyes squinting. It had almost looked like a fly of some sort, save for the fact that it was perpetually still as though in a stasis.

"Were you smart, Mister Cosa?" She remarked, glancing at him then momentarily. "Did you wait to drink from the fountain?" It could have been passed off as a hypothetical question, but something in her gut told her that this man was looking for answers because he had drank from the fountain. And now he regretted it.

And in truth, so did she.

Common | Ancient tongue | Snake Tongue

[Thomas Cosa]

His lips curled, a thin smile, at her compliment. Thomas was beyond vain, and stupid for praise; his ego, his parents had always claimed, would be his undoing. "I would hope I do, considering I teach at the Dusk Tower," His magic rolled off her aura, delighting in the yellow serenity that bloomed off her words, warm, soft, and liquid. He pumped a bit more Djed behind his spell, and her aura became sharper, more solid, and behind him, the black hole opened itself larger.

She was all needles, her aura pushing against his magic, unwanting to be prodded. It shook violently where his spell touched, very much alive and aware of his touch. Thomas wondered at this, guessing at how her nature effected this behavior in her aura. There was also the scent of death, or maybe decay. Not so strong as in the Nuits, but still, she seemed to have some kind of connection with the dead.

"It's considered rude, in the more civilized cultures, to not look at someone when you're speaking with them," Thomas sighed, his magic curling beind him to see what exactly had caught her attention - however briefly. His spell wandered blindly, touching the sun-warmed stone of the ground, catching the flashes of life in between the gravel, weeds and dandelions fighting for their survival. "And yes, while I might agree some risks might be rewarded, the majority, I think, result in death. For example --," he paused, his magic realizing the danger before his brain registered it.

The void felt frozen against his spell, a portal of nothing. A break in the fullness of reality, unknown and hungry. Thomas' eyes widened in obvious horror, and the sudden realization of the portal broke his concentration and both spells - not that he was really aware of that; he was instinct at this point, all feeling.

"Let's go, I --," he broke his sentence, not able to form words. Instead, he grabbed her hand as he moved to flee the gardens.

OOCFeel free to go with Thomas or not! Just to clarify, the void spell, as well as his Auristics broke.