Open [Café Fleurs] Tea, Flowers, and Philosophy

[Oswald Adams]

Summer 22nd, 516 A.V. | Speech | Thoughts

Oswald chewed his bottom lip with quiet determination as he considered his options. This was no easy choice for him make. Such complete and opposite directions to go, both with their own merits and flaws. Why, the ramifications of his actions here and now would be both far-reaching and utterly unpredictable. The stakes of it all, it was enough to drive a man mad.

"Sir? If you need help choosing a drink, I'd be happy to make a recommendation."

His head snapped up at the waitress standing patiently next him. She was smiling brightly, her eyes curious and friendly even as Oswald's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed her approach or how long she had been waiting for his order. A nervous laugh bubbled out of him before the man nodded his approval.

"Well, if you're in the mood for something sweet and savory, our Lemon Bliss blend is great paired with a Meat Lover's sandwich."

"Yes! Yes, that sounds lovely," Oswald agreed hurriedly, not wishing to take up anymore of the waitresses' time. He hated to have been a bother, especially for something as simple as ordering a meal.

The waitress smiled as she walked back towards the kitchens to place his order. Oswald ran a hand through the short, tangled knots of his hair; chastising himself for losing track of his surroundings again. It had become more and more a common occurrence for the young mage to lose himself in his thoughts like that. He supposed the source of it all could be his application to the Institute of Higher Learning. It proved stressful to the young man, waiting for a slip of paper that could determine the direction of his life. If he was accepted as an instructor, even with his lack of experience the resources for research allotted to him would be everything he dreamed of having. Bookshelves like mountains looming overhead, brilliant wizards working together on joint projects, and a real chance at discovering where his father had disappeared to. Oswald could hardly keep himself still his excitement was so great.

However, if he didn't get accepted...

No, I mustn't think like that. If Rhysol wills it, it will happen. If not, I will find another way.

Sighing loudly, he turned his attention away from his thoughts and outward instead. Oswald had always loved the Café Fleurs. Sitting at a dark, wooden table underneath a colorful canopy of vines, somehow this place emanated an aura of calm. With deep, steady breaths, the mage inhaled the pleasing scents which cloaked the building in a colorful aroma. He felt his mind begin to quiet as the subtle chirping of birds overhead filled his ears, and Oswald slid his eyelids shut as the nervous tension which wracked his body fled. Here, among the flowers and the vines, he could finally to relax and let his worries slip away...

"...sir. sir? Sir?!"

Oswald shot out of his chair with a start, sending his cup flying. The object landed with a clatter, shattering into pieces before his waitress' feet and gathering the attention of the other patrons. Realizing that he must have dozed off while relaxing, Oswald shot an apologetic look towards the woman. His cheeks turned an even darker red than before, blush blotting out the freckles which dusted his face.

"That'll be seven silver mizas for the tea and drink, and a gold miza for the cup."

"Right...um...sorry. Sorry! I'll...I'll just clean this up then."

OOCLedger: -1 GM for the glass teacup and -7 SM for the meal and drink.

[Evarista]

LedgerPaid for one pitcher of wine, 4 sm The greenery was swimming pleasantly before Evarista's eyes, and the voices of the surrounding patrons had turned into a ambient sounds, like the chirping of birds, losing all meaning. The wine pitcher in front of her was almost empty. Getting wasted here in the middle of the day was becoming an increasingly common occurrence for her, but she didn't have a problem with that. Her expensive clothes stood out a little, but her unceremonious manners made it simple to fit in. She swept her gaze around the café. It was a rather fancy place for the average hard-working Ravokian, but in her eyes, it definitely lacked something. She thought back to the Studio of Yae Varone, where she was taken many times as a child. It was much better decorated than this, the clientele was more elaborate, and the pastries were to kill for. The only reason she didn't haunt that place instead of this one was that Yae didn't serve any alcohol. Boo. Speaking of alcohol, she still had some in the pitcher, didn't she? Picking up the heavy container with an unsteady hand, she poured the remaining wine into the glass that stood next to it. The task required all of her concentration, but she managed to do it without spilling anything. Another obstacle between herself and the next drink eliminated. The moment she put the empty pitcher back on the table, there was a loud crash right next to her. Her hand jerked reflexively, almost flipping the pitcher over; she caught it just in time. Looks like someone else wasn't as fortunate as her in their struggle against treacherous glassware. After making sure her own stuff was standing securely, she turned to see what had happened. The lanky fellow sitting at the table next to her was apologizing profusely to the waitress, while a rapidly expanding pool of tea was forming at the woman's feet. Hmm, just tea? Startled by the bespectacled patron's sudden awakening, the waitress made a short pause. While she didn't care much about the spilled tea itself, the man's awkwardness was a little contagious. It took her a moment to start thinking professionally again, and she barely stifled a giggle as she saw the deep blush on his face. Luckily for everyone, she regained her composure in time. Before he could move to actually start cleaning the mess, the waitress stopped him with a small gesture. "Ah, don't worry about that." Kneeling down, she dexterously picked up all of the shattered pieces, using her apron as a makeshift bag. "Please have a seat, I'll bring you another cup shortly." There was an unspoken implication that he would have to pay for the new round. In finer cafés, they wouldn't even charge for the broken cup; the humiliation would be a high enough price already. However, the culture of the Merchant's Ring wasn't so sensitive. You mess up, you pay in mizas. As the waitress retreated behind the counter and the other patrons returned to their conversations, the shadows behind the counter snickered sadistically. With annoying, distorted voices, they offered their typical sort of commentary. The fellow was lucky he couldn't hear them. "Haha, look at that." "What a clutz." "He's worse than E." "Come on, don't insult him like that." Evarista thought back on the numerous times she had embarrassed herself here, but it only happened when she was roaring drunk. To do something like this in sober condition, this man must have been a wizard or something. No one else could be this absent-minded. That was the best thing about this café: there were actually different sorts of people here. You'd never see a guy like this at Yae's. Smirking uncontrollably, the inebriated girl looked down at her final glass of wine. The high-strung gentleman seemed like he needed it even more than she did. He also looked like the sort that would never realize that on his own, which made the next step even more self-evident. Skipping all the pleasantries, she picked up her glass, leaned towards his table, and placed the wine in front of him. "Here. Have this instead."

[Oswald Adams]

22nd of Summer, 516 A.V. | Speech | Thoughts

At the waitress' request, Oswald sat quietly back down in his chair. He was glad that she wasn't upset, and even though he would have to pay a little more than he expected, he was more than happy to yield those mizas as a price for his disruption. A cursory glance around told him that the other patrons had already returned to their respective conversations, his brief embarrassment already forgotten in favor of more intimate interactions.

His fingers began to beat into a steady drum on the table as he waited for the girl's return. Normally, he would have already been lost in thought again; considering some far-off theory about a unknown planet in a foreign sky. Oswald wasn't one for having a still mind. For him, every moment awake was a moment that could be spent exploring the mysteries of this earth below or those heavens above. However, having already been surprised twice this lunch, the mage was content to idly drum out a pattern on the dark oak wood before him.

To his credit, he did manage not cause another scene when the unexpected figure of a girl entered his vision and slid a dark glass towards him. Oswald's eyes took on a curious look as they met the newcomer's. She bore a smirk framed on an elegant face. Dressed well and holding an air of defiant indifference about her, Oswald noted that this girl was not the type to usually consider him worth approaching. Nonetheless, he was not about to turn down the kindness of stranger, especially one bearing drink.

"Oh! Er-Thank you!" Oswald smiled broadly at the woman, gladly taking the girl's gift from the table. His enthusiasm stuttered a bit as the man peered into the drinkIt is a bit too early for wine, but compassion is all too rare these days. Best not to be rude. He brought the glass to his lips, lightly sipping the red liquid and savoring its sweet taste. The light tinglings of alcohol buzzed at the back of his brain, employing him to relax once again. Frankly, he was inclined to listen. Placing the glass back down, the still grinning Oswald motioned to the empty chair before him.

"Please, have a seat. Might I pay you back for your kindness with some conversation? I would offer to pay for the wine, but it seems I've suddenly become tight on mizas."

In truth, that was only half the reason Oswold offered the chair to the woman. Something about her, the way that bored expression on her face didn't feel entirely honest or perhaps how her uncaring didn't match her sudden action, had piqued the mage's interest. She didn't quite add up, and there was nothing Oswald loved more than figuring out a disfuctional equation. Plus, he really did need to get his mind off of how his application was doing. No better cure for nervousness than talking to pretty girls, right?

"My name is Oswald, by the way. Oswald Adams. Pleasure to meet you." He waited a polite moment before continuing.

"So, what brings you to Café Fleurs? The view," he paused, gesturing to the flowers. "Or the entertainment?" This time gesturing to himself with an embarrassed smile.

OOCSorry, no big questions yet. Gotta build to it, y'know?

[Evarista]

Without giving it any thought, she abandoned the empty pitcher and moved to his table, seating herself across from him. She watched him sip the wine carefully before he put the glass back down. He was definitely not a drinker, at least not in the sense she would define it. That was good news for him. Everywhere she went, the success of individuals seemed inversely proportional to their consumption of alcohol. "Evarista. Mutual." She gave a small nod, less politely than she had intended, while omitting her last name as usual. Unlike her siblings, she wasn't at all famous, and could get around the city with a good degree of anonymity. She made a small pause, eyeing him up and down idly. She wasn't exactly a people reader, and she couldn't tell what this man was. However, it was rather obvious what he wasn't. Too fine for the Docks, too coarse for the Noble District. He didn't seem like a merchant, either; a merchant of his disposition would never get anything sold. An accountant, maybe? A scribe? A laboratory assistant? Either way, he wasn't someone who made his living by doing unskilled labor. It was possible that he was working for the family, but that was all the more reason to not drop the name. Nothing ruins a relaxed mood like the sudden realization that you're talking to someone who might get you fired for the slightest misstep. Adjusting herself slightly in the chair, the girl searched her brain for an answer to his query. The truth was certainly out. Telling him that she just came here to drench her whistle would be too boring. Although, to give herself some credit... that wasn't the whole truth. She tilted her head, looking for eye contact and squinting at him slightly. Bringing his aura into focus as well as she could in her wined-up state, she brought her undivided attention to it. Bright colors flared up around him, undulating, swirling, blending. Countless nuances slipped past her eyes, all complex and indecipherable. Many paths, and constant motion. Even though he looked rather relaxed and leisurely, there was more going on in his mind than she could possibly have guessed. She couldn't glean any of the contents of his thoughts, of course, but she didn't really need to. All the inflections, the hints, the few patters she could recognize, everything pointed in one direction. This man was a wizard. And not just a dabbler, at that. Taken aback, she stared at him blankly for a brief moment. Her eyes, strained by the use of magic, had reddened slightly. She rubbed them with her sleeve for a second, trying to gather her thoughts. Despite technically being a magic user herself, Evarista didn't consider herself a wizard. The man who had accepted her wine, on the other hand, was the real deal. With her modest auristics, there was no way to tell what sort of magic he practiced, though. But that was alright. She had looked for the right words to continue the conversation with, and she has found them. Quickly returning to reality, the black-haired aristocrat licked her dry lips and shifted forward in the chair, resting one elbow on the table and leaning in with a conspiratorial smirk plastered on her face. Lowering her voice nearly to a whisper, she spoke to the man in front of her. "I'm here in search for something. Something that you might have. Tell me, Oswald..." She made a small pause for emphasis, lowering her tone even further. "What do you think of magic?" Forgetting to keep her tone neutral, she had addressed him by his first name right away, something she was taught to do only to inferiors. While It was an offense in refined company, normal people who didn't know these nuances could mistake it for plain friendliness. So, a fellow of his standing would probably let it slide. She hoped. Or he would've set her eyebrows on fire, like that guy in the tavern stories... Angering a wizard could lead to some nasty stuff. Especially when you didn't know what exactly he had up his sleeve.

[Oswald Adams]

Timestamp | Speech | Thoughts

Evarista

Oswald made an effort to remember the name, playing with letters in his mind in order to better record them. While he could recite the astral coordinates of planets both strange and beautiful or entertain the concept of nothingness to such a degree that a portal to the Void opened up, he was absolutely abysmal with names. He, however, payed no mind to the lack of tact the word was delivered in. Having endured far worse than impoliteness during his lifetime, such small transgressions didn't manage to penetrate his wall of excitable optimism.

Noticing that Evarista had elected to pause in order to gather her thoughts, he allowed his thoughts to wander again. An energetic sort, Oswald didn't really know what to do in the lulls of conversation. He was much more used to the rapid-fire debates had between his father and he, as opposed to the more common, casual social calls.

She certainly seemed a strange one to the young mage considering her, prone to piercing and analytical looks that left Oswald slightly unsettled. If he didn't know any better, he would say that she was taking his measure. Sizing up what he was made of, determining if he was to be of use or abandoned at the wayside.

The sound of her voice, a breathy whisper which weaved its way into Oswald's ears, brought the man's attention up from the desk and back onto her. She smiled as though they were gossiping Ravosalamen sharing intimate details of their clientele. Oswald found it a slightly strange way to broach this particular subject, especially considering Ravok's lack of taboo towards the arcane.

What do I think of magic? Well, I suppose there's no harm in talking about my work.

"You ask a layered question Ms. Evarista," he observed, entertaining her curiosity with a smirk of his own. "I think magic is the most remarkable, mysterious, and terrifying thing we mortals can imagine. Allow me to explain."

Without waiting for her response, Oswald hurriedly grabbed the still full glass of wine and used his free hand to dip his index finger in the liquid. He placed the drink back down and then lay a white napkin in between he and Evarista on the table. Using the wine on his finger as a sort of ink, Oswald began to sketch the rough outline of a glyph. He wetted his finger with wine a few times through the process, careful to keep the curves and edges of his work as neat as possible. The glyph was simple enough in design; just a small, woven circle encapsulating a triangle. It bore a very similar structure to some of the circles that Oswald used while Summoning, which perhaps made sense given his dedication to the craft. The entire process took more than a few minutes, given the scavenged materials, but once he felt it was satisfactory, Oswald drew the woman's attention to the hastily made glyph before her.

"To many in this world, this is just an idle scribble. A series of pleasant, geographic designs which essential amount to nothing. Innocuous, harmless, and completely above suspicion."

Blowing lightly on the napkin to encourage it drying, Oswald now held up the napkin near his new acquaintance's face.

"But to those initiated in the art, to those who look hard and close at this scribble, it is much, much more. This design, well actually the craft responsible for its creation but for simplicity's sake this design, is cornerstone of all advanced magical theory. It is something known as a glyph, or perhaps a rune depending upon local preferences. Regardless, in the right hands, with the right wizard, and with the right spell, this tiny scrap of cloth could be responsible for changing hundreds of lives. For good or for ill. The point being, one won't know the glyph's function until it is activated. It is a terrifying gamble, but one that must taken if humanity ever wishes to again reach the heights of life before the Valterrin life."

At this point, Oswald was beginning to get lost in his own observations. Turning the rune on the paper towards him, his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity as tiny drops of unabsorbed wine began to drip down the paper. Like blood seeping from a fresh wound, the drink stained the white spaces of the napkin scarlet and ruined the glyph which was on it.

"Magic gives man the chance to change the rules of fate's game. It can save lives, or it can end them. Perhaps the most horrifying part of it all is how many wizards can't tell when they're doing one, or the other."

Crumpling up the napkin, he let the linen drop on the table. Oswald readjusted his glasses, attempting in vain to sort out their crooked nature, before placing his attention back on Evarista.

"Sorry, my mouth has a tendency to move on its own accord sometimes, especially when it comes to my passions. You've probably have had enough of my ramblings." Oswald let off an apprehensive chuckle, worried that he had annoyed the woman with his constant chatter.

"Though, I do wonder why you ask Ms. Evarista. Are you performing a study of some sort? If so, I would love to be of help! Or perhaps you have an opinion on magic entirely of your own design?"

[Evarista]

Seeing him pick up the napkin and begin painting it in wine, Evarista perked up a little, trying to understand what he was showing her. The geometric pattern itself became recognizable soon enough, but she wasn't familiar enough with Glyphing or Summoning to see how the shape could be used for magic. What was more noticeable was the effort he put into coloring the napkin, as the girl stole periodic glances at his face while he was drawing; it showed that he was doing something familiar to him. Well, he probably didn't normally draw his magic squiggles using wine on a napkin if he could help it, but he knew what he was doing. Definitely a wizard. Evarista raised an eyebrow and rubbed her chin during his small artistic display, in an attempt to show him that she was impressed. She stared at the napkin as he held it in front of her, pretending to examine the simple shapes as if they told her something. Oswald's enthusiastic explanation was quite welcome, if a bit unexpected. While it was true that magic as a subject carried no particular stigma in Ravok, individual wizards were not very talk-active about their craft, usually in fear that the information might get stolen, manipulated or used against them somehow. The fear was not completely unfounded, and the paranoia was especially pervasive in academic environments such as the Institute. A large amount of mages, all packed into a tight space with a competitive atmosphere. It was an uncomfortable pot to boil in. During her short period of attending the academy, Evarista was largely ignored, not being seen as a threat to anyone's position due to her ineptitude. Yet, even someone as insensitive as her could feel the hostility flow thick in the air. Even the Ebonstryfe guards stationed there, who were not involved in the magical practices themselves, seemed more gloomy and weary than usual. It was difficult to imagine how an open and cheerful man like Oswald could fit in that picture. Or maybe he wasn't open a cheerful at all. This could all be an act; he was pretending for the sake of appearances. Or maybe he was like the others at work, but fine with taking it easy while talking to a layman like herself. Or maybe he wasn't from the Institute at all, but then, where was he from? Her fuzzy mind was jumping from conclusion to conclusion, spinning a complex web of self-inflicted befuddlement around itself. The paranoia had infected her a little, but manifested itself in a less than useful way. She didn't have the opportunity to think much more about it before the chestnut-haired man overwhelmed her with his energetic commentary. Glyph? Runes? Gambling? The girl furrowed her brows briefly in an honest attempt to follow his train of thought, but gave up almost immediately. He was talking too fast, and her being stewed didn't help. Best to simply let him talk and pick out what salient points she could. At least he was the type who was happy to do some talking himself, without her having to pull it out of him word by word. Evarista played around with his many lines in her head when he had discarded the napkin and finally made a pause. Ignoring his apology, she chewed on the corner of her lip for the first second of the silence, eyes wandering around the table in a slightly disoriented manner. A second later, she repeated the one phrase from his exposition that had actually stuck to her mind. "To change the rules of fate's game... That's exactly it, Oswald." She didn't put the same meaning into those words as he did when he first said them. Her foggy gaze, which has been mostly shifting between the crumpled napkin and the wine glass so far, found his face again. She wasn't leaning in anymore, just staring at him with her arms folded across her chest. Her thoughts were occupied with the goal of witnessing the man before her in action. Drawing on napkins would only keep her attention so far, and she wasn't patient enough to beat around the bush much more. She wasn't going to demand any displays right on the spot, of course, but she wanted to take advantage of his offer and arrange a time and place for it. The girl opened her mouth to say something to that effect, but noticed the sudden presence of someone else at the table. The waitress was back with a tray, which she placed in front of Oswald. On the tray was a brand-new cup of tea and an appetizing sandwich. The waitress smiled brightly at the customer, hiding the tea-stained floor mop behind her back. "Please enjoy your meal!" Being done with him, she turned to the other patron at the table. "Would you like some more wine?" Evarista nearly let a reflexive 'yes' slip out of her mouth, but stopped herself in time. "Eh, no." Almost forgot to add the mandatory word. "...thanks." Being used to slaves, Evarista constantly slipped up in her interactions with free servants, as they were dismissively called in the District. The social nuances wore her out, but they couldn't be ignored completely. There was no way to tell what the waitress could slip in your drink if she disliked you enough. That being said, she wouldn't let some crummy servant distract her from her conversation. "That would be all." Nodding in acknowledgement while still smiling politely, the apron-wearing woman left the table with brisk steps, immediately throwing the strange pair out of her mind. While annoyed by the interruption, Evarista didn't betray it. "I'm sure you are quite hungry, so go ahead and have your snack. Meanwhile, let me ask you about changing the rules of the game, as you put it. Hmm..." Her fingers twirled a lock of her black hair slowly, as she made a brief pause in search of the most appealing way to present her thoughts on the subject. Considering what she was after, that was quite difficult. Since most Ravokians considered humans to be the pinnacle of mortal existence, she had to be careful with her wording. "I want to find out what it means to be a superior human being. Through magic. Not merely by using magic on things around me, but by becoming one with it. That's what you could help me with, if you have the means and the curiosity." Reaching across the table unhurriedly, Evarista picked up the crumpled napkin and unfolded it again. There was nothing left of the design, just a moist, red smudge in the middle of the tissue. "You drew something here. Now it's gone. Even if this napkin was really magical, it would still have ended up like this. Isn't that wasteful? Think about every such piece of magic you fired-and-forgot in your lifetime. And now, think about what it would be like to have them all at once, always at your disposal. Always within you. That's what I mean by becoming one with your magic. To become something more than what you were born as. The rules can be changed." The napkin went to find its rightful place, crumpled mercilessly for the second time and thrown at the nearest rubbish bin. It didn't hit the intended target, bouncing off the bin and rolling under another table instead, but Evarista had already forgot about it. The napkin example wasn't exactly what she meant, but it was close enough. Her entire attention was on Oswald as she crossed her arms and tilted her head, boring into the bespectacled wizard with an inquisitive stare. "Don't you think so?"

[Lothuialeth]

Timestamp: 22 Summer, 516 AV Meanwhile, somewhere in the Merchant's Ring that honestly isn't that far from the café itself. The area is bustling with activity that ranges from shoppers buying food or clothes of necessity to even buying elaborate items such as jewelry and decorative weapons that's probably meant as gifts to either lovers, relatives, or even establishing bonds with another. The smells of food especially lingers in the air with the moisture being a tad bit noticeable if one pays attention to it. With the voices of merchants calling out of their sales and wares can be heard over the bustling activity. Honestly it makes one wonder of how much power in the voice would be required without sounding like one is shouting their own air out. Centered on one particular individual garbed in a stark white cloak that doesn't appear to be made out of the ordinary cloth nor leather. Granted there is signs of leather that's being worn underneath the cloak, but it doesn't appear to be part of the cloak itself. The hood is lowered down to reveal the fiery red long hair with her gray eyes seem to resembles a lot like a storm. With the lighting from the sun striking her eyes at the right angle; it almost makes it look like there's lightning streaking across her eyes when there's obviously isn't any electricity emitting from her. She appears to be wearing a rather focused expression, though its more that she's paying extra details with her surroundings. Lothuialeth had arrived in this town a few days ago, but so far no one has really hired her yet considering that she's a mercenary. Or a sellsword as some might call her since she fights for money. One can safely say that working as a mercenary is her line of work considering that she has the skills for it. Still she was more of scouting out any potential clients that might need her blade at their side, but so far Lothuialth has gotten no such luck on her search. Heaving a sigh as she is giving her eyes a break from searching by entering the local café that was named Café Fleurs. Almost immediately she is hit with a much more pleasant smells of tea blends and nature taking root into the air. Briefly observing the scenery of the plant life, Lothuialeth could only think of one thing about this place. 'This place is magnificent.' In truth the smells and the scenery brought up some memories of her father when he was trying to grow a variety of flowers next to the house. She remembered of how that old coot was practically dragging Lothuialeth by the teeth metaphorically to plant the flowers with him. Afterwards he fixed some tea that had a hint of lemon inside of the drink that Lothuialeth fell in love with. "Are you with someone? I can show you to their table if you wish ma'am." The waitress asked that made those stormy orbs blink once before Lothuialeth turned her attention over to the polite woman. A soft smile formed on Lothuialeth's lips while her once hardened eyes also seemed to soften upon the relaxation Lothuialeth felt. "No, it'll just be me attending here. Its actually my first time here, and i'll admit this place looks lovely." This compliment to the café seems to have brought a bright smile to the waitress's face as she grabs a single menu from the counter. "Oh, welcome to the Café Fleurs! We're glad that you like this place. If you would just follow me please." The waitress seem a little energetic as she leads the mercenary over to a vacant table. Ironically it was the same table that Evarista originaly occupied, but she quickly cleaned up the table before setting the menu down. "Are you a traveler perhaps?" Lothuialeth seemed to be looking around for only a moment before the question popped up. Which she responded with a friendly yet casual tone. "You can say that. I came here looking for some work, but sadly i had no luck yet." The red head sits down on the chair before propping both of her elbows on the table with her movements giving off a hint of grace. Not like nobility nor etiquette type of grace. It was more of a dexterous form of grace that most likely came from training and its showing up without her noticing it. The waitress sets down the menu before Lothuialeth who placed her left hand on the menu. "Ah, well we are hiring if you're interested in joining our staff." However that seemed to have made the mercenary giggle lightly before responding without even looking up from the menu. "No offense, but i think it would be better if i don't work here. Its just not the kind of thing where i need my blade." Speaking of which, the red head's hands showed signs of hardship and something along the dangerous line of work. For one, Lothuialeth's palms are hardened and looks like previously cut up from the use of a blade. Hence the cutlass that's strapped to her belt. Secondly, the knuckles of her hands are not exactly weak nor fragile. In fact they look quite strong and could probably pack one hell of a punch if she wanted to. Additionally she looks slightly fit from what one can see of her, and also a couple of mild scars can be seen on the back of her hand as well. "Well, there's always time for training to the job if you ever wish to apply here. At any rate, what can i get you ma'am?" Lothuialeth didn't answer the waitress for a moment before she tapped her finger on the finger. "I would like the Lemon Bliss please. That would be it for me." The red head kept it simple and short on what she wanted while picking up the menu and hands it over to the waitress. Who takes it from Lothuialeth and nodded her head in acknowledgement before the waitress went away. Allowing Lothuialeth to take off the cloak and just let it fall onto the back of her chair. Revealing the woman's leather pieces of armor that is adjusted on her shoulder and on her torso area. Underneath that armor was a leather blouse that has a leather belt strapped around the waist. Where it was now more visible of the woman's cutlass that has an unusual guard than a cutlass normally would have. As in the guard has four rising edges that flows with the blade like it was meant to catch something if it strikes the guard. With her trouser seeming to be the normal and simple of sandy brown cloth. Even her boots are made out of leather, but they also appear to be a bit worn as they show signs of traveling a lot.

[Oswald Adams]

Timestamp | Speech | Thoughts

That was it. Oswald was officially convinced that the servers at the Café Fleurs somehow received training from the Black Sun, Ebonstryfe, Galatos Family, or perhaps even all three. It was the only explanation for the way their whisper-soft steps managed to sneak up on him every time they brought him his order. Well, that or he was the target of some sort of divine conspiracy to make him the jumpiest, most nervous teacher-to-be to have walked the halls of the Institute. Frankly, given his luck, each was equally likely as the other.

Thankfully, the mage managed to control his surprise at the waitress' arrival. Though her bright smile did diminish the idea of this woman's involvement in clandestine organizations, a small part of Oswald remained curious at how such a seemingly benign woman managed to move quietly. Brushing past his errant thoughts, he reached into his satchel once more and fished out seven more silver mizas.

"Here you go. Again, I'm quite sorry for the mess and the hassle," he smiled bashfully at her, handing her the money with slight reluctance. At Evarista's mention of eating, Oswald gladly begin to take small, precise bites out of his sandwich. He had nearly forgotten about his hunger he was so wrapped up in conversation, intelligent discussion displacing his baser needs.

However, as enjoyable as the conversation had been, Oswald's eyebrows furrowed at its sudden turn. He chewed slowly as he mulled over her theory. He supposed it was technically possible. Stories, warnings more like, existed of mages whose spells had gone haywire and suddenly found themselves changed. Most often for the worse.

"Well, that depends on your definition of 'superior'." He added through bites of his now half-finished sandwich. "It's not really my specialty in all honestly, I'm more focused on what lies..." he paused, searching for the right words to describe his otherworldly aspirations. "...beyond normal perception. Not just the stars and the planets, but also what lies in-between. Space, emptiness, that sort of thing."

Running a hand through his red-brown hair, Oswald chuckled nervously. "I'm afraid I'm not making much sense, am I? Point being, it's a bit of unfamiliar territory for me, this talk of er-modification of the human form."

Seeing her seriousness and dedication to the topic, he refocused on her base theory. The idea that man might become more intimately connected with magic. In his opinion, it certainly had precedent, just not the sort that leans itself to safe testing. To connect more deeply with Djed was something ever wizard tried to do. Through thought or meditation or even dangerous uses of magic, it was tried time and again by most who considered themselves savvy in the realms of the arcane. If Evarista's idea bore fruit, it would certainly shake the magical community. A being unlimited use of Djed, if that was indeed what she was getting at, would be like a god among mortals. They would have no peer, except perhaps the gods themselves.

"I believe I understand the gist of what you're get. To connect with Djed that deeply, you would do much more than simply change the rules. That much power gifted to a single being, you might have the chance to write them," he began, trying to puzzle a feasible approach to experimentation as he spoke.

"If this is truly a route you want pursue, then you would probably need access to bodies mutated by magic. Study their anatomy, the way the live and interact in the world. Their thought process, how that much Djed affects ones personality and sanity..."

Oswald paused, frowning slightly as his thought processes stumbled to a halt.

"I'm sorry, but I know no place on this planet that houses so many unfortunate souls. The Institute library might have more on the subject, but even that seems a stretch."

The mage considered his discussion partner for a moment. Until now, Evarista seemed to him wholly bored with her circumstances. Almost as if lost in a fog and unwilling to find her way out. But this subject, this theory, seemed truly important to her. She seemed...hungry for an answer. Oswald knew what that hunger was like, and despite his flailing and his forgetfulness, the mage carried it with him everywhere.

Well, her theory is certainly interesting and she is more fun to talk to than the walls of my apartment. A little kindness couldn't do any harm, could it?

"How about this, let's make a deal. Your goal, your idea, is entirely too interesting to let go unanswered. Unfortunately, as of right now, I have neither the time nor the resources to explore it with you. But, if everything goes to plan and I become a teacher at the Institute, I will have plenty both. So, the proposition. You and I will search for this solution together, and when we find it, we're going to change the world for the better. Deal?"

His grin bright as ever, Oswald stuck his hand out to the woman whose questions set his head spinning with ideas. As slim as the chances were for finding what Evarista was searching for, Oswald knew if it could achieved, it might be the step he needs to finally find his father.

Standing up and gathering his belongings, Oswald sent Evarista one last cheery smile.

"We are going to do great things, just you wait. For now, I must be off. Until later Evarista."

Leaving meal half-finished and completely forgotten, Oswald waved goodbye to his entertaining lunch partner. He looked forward to the excitement he was sure their next meeting would bring

OOCHey, sorry it took so long for me to reply. Just moved to college and everything is crazy. Thought it was best to have Oswald exit so y'all can get grades or continue the thread with each other as you see fit.