[Caius] Black Sheep

Caius get in here!

Stronghold of education and learning, this fortress is in one of the coldest areas of Idalos and home to many knowledge seekers in a variety of disciplines. However, unknown to most, below the city are those who suffer for the sake of science. While all are welcome, not everyone will be treated as they expect.

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Jonathan Burr
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[Caius] Black Sheep

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Saun 35th, Mid-Day, 718

Oh dear gods, it was cold.

Check that, it was freezing. Jon's shirtless and shoeless ways really weren't the best way to travel here, and he was glad he'd packed some of his things with him. He had boots on, thankfully, and a full shirt but even that wasn't keeping out the biting wind. Ymiden everywhere else was unbearably hot, but he had stepped from the oven of Kaelserad into the freezing winds of Viden. Good gods, what was Cylus like here? Utter and complete hell? He needed to find the library. He'd come on the 19th but five days wasn't a long time to acclimate. He needed to keep as little of himself outside as possible. He wondered how Victor dealt with it. How his Harvester was dealing with it. Of course, since the creature hadn't manifested inside of a conjunction he wouldn't have felt the cold yet.

'Believe me from the way you're shivering I have no want to.'Hob chuckled.'Be glad you have an excuse to bundle up. Explain away that furrow in your lips as an old battle wound but the topaz on your arms is fairly explainable to your casual arcanophobe. You're lucky someone doesn't try to mine you.'

"F-funny." Jon muttered to himself through gritted teeth. He got a little bit of direction from signs and the like, and when he stepped into the library relief hit him in the form of warm air. His eyes boggled at the sight of the books. Thousands of them, on every shelf, and three whole floors to study! He could spend hours here if they had somewhere to get a little spot of tea and maybe a pastry. Jon had discovered a passion for reading pouring over the notes he'd needed to find his first Aberrant, and this really was no different. It was so neatly organized, so inviting that he forgot about the chill leaving his bones and walked across the floor toward the first shelf. He wiped his hands as he examined the titles. Geology Compendium: Vol I, An Annotated History of Mining in Idalos...he'd stumbled upon a geology section. A wide grin spread his lips and Hob had to remind him to keep the second set buttoned tight. He wiped the frost from his hands and eagerly plucked one off the shelf, titled Common Gemstones and Their Uses. He leafed through it, scanning the pages, drinking in little snippets here and there.

There was so much he couldn't possibly focus! He hugged the book close to his chest like someone was going to take it from him. He added two more in quick succession: A Geological Survey of Ne'haer in 650, and one of the Geology Compendiums focusing on the corundum family of gems. Rubies weren't his favourite, amethyst was, but thumbing through the gigantic quartz family would take forever. He hefted the books and hurried up to the second floor. It was slightly less interesting. The arts, philosophy and design but nothing on the applications of magic to any of those three subjects. He was going to go to the third floor...but it was blocked off. He peeked over the barrier and caught one of the titles. Rupturing: Tearing Holes in Reality.

Jon's heart soared. He needed to get into this section. He set his books carefully down on an end table. Now, to get around this barrier. He looked around, and opted to try and sneak over.

'Careful, you're going to get us kicked out...'

Jon shook his head but didn't dare speak. An operation like this required stealth. He lost his balance and flipped over the barrier, landing hard on his back on the stone floor. The wind was sharply knocked out of him and heard Hob chuckle at him in his head.
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[Caius] Black Sheep

24th of Ymiden, 718

MID-TRIAL | THE PRIME ATHENEUM
T
o say that Lord Arbiter Caius Gawyne's mission in Viden was going well or even as planned would have perhaps been a slight exaggeration of the truth or, at least, a very slight bending of it. It would have been, for lack of a better collection of words, sarding generous. He had, indeed, succeeded in locating the stolen traitorstone and its thief who, surprisingly enough, turned out to not be a thief at all so much as someone with a very low concept of personal property and a very high concept of their own call to duty for what could only be labeled as a higher power—The Lantern, Famula, Immortal of Souls, Servitude, Resurrection, and Blood.

But had he followed his purpose to the letter? No.

Had he kept any of his promises while back in Viden? No.

Success felt relative at the moment, and Caius was vaguely aware that he was still failing. And badly.

While he had indeed accomplished the most immediate directives of the Order of the Mantis he claimed his authority from all the way across the sea in the Kingdom of Rynmere, the northern noble was achingly aware that he'd done all things both poorly and differently than expected. Strangely enough, however, he could admit that he had been enlightened and empowered by his willingness to step outside of expectation, but the act of breaking the law to keep it did nothing to assuage his somewhat guilty, confused conscience. He'd stepped outside of his once eagerly promised vows, too, and was still waiting for his conscience to get back to him on that choice. It was strangely silent, but he wasn't chasing it, either.

The tumultuous arc, half of which he didn't expect to be alive for, had seared away so much of who he thought he was, leaving a hungry, haunted creature in its wake. While he'd hoped coming to Viden would allow him a moment of clarity, of cold sobriety to look back over his choices, he'd struggled to claw his way out of his Kasyni-encouraged addictions and Syroa-encouraged desires. It was a mess, and yet he still had a job to do, a duty, even if he couldn't seem to feel the conviction required of his Crown-appointed title.

When overwhelmed, however, praise the Fates there was still the solace of a library. Crawling away from everything that whispered and begged to drag him down again, the young Gawyne made his way back to the Prime Atheneum whenever he needed to forget himself.

Caius was not yet finished with his research and he feared he would never be, that the stores of knowledge on magic, on sparks, on their removal and origin would beg to keep him in Viden for far longer than he anticipated. He'd fought for almost an entire season for permission to come to the Academy and have access to the entirety of the Arcana section of the library contained within the beautiful vaulted ceilings of the Prime Atheneum. It was, of course, the day he was set to leave Rynmere in pursuit of the stolen traitorstone that permission came, just squeaking into his travel plans and making the kind of difficult, angry, and sad situation he'd purposefully slipped away from that much more frustrating and hurtful.

But oh so sarding necessary.

The frigid air of Viden, even in the Hot Cycle, was more than just refreshing for the noble born in the northernmost Barony of all of Rynmere, no, but the distance had proven itself something he needed even if he didn't know he wanted it. If only there weren't familiar faces here to fuck it up—or, more correctly, if only he was a better man and didn't let all of said familiar faces fuck with him so he could stay focused. If only Charlotte had been a simple thief. If only he hadn't already given into his own weaknesses instead of learning how to control them. If only he sarding hadn't left Viden in the first place almost an arc and a half ago—

Thank the fates all of these struggles were easily forgotten once the Lord Arbiter found himself back in the most admirable library in all of Idalos. The guards of the third floor had come to recognize his face, his brief grin, and the papers he always made sure to have on hand before he passed into the carefully curated Arcana section, this time with a very specific focus in mind.

Caius was already perusing the stacks, tracing permanently ink-stained fingers over the leather-bound, gilded spines as he scanned titles and authors, hunting for particular tomes. He was hardly dressed for the frigid weather, the fine fabric of his shirt and vest his only two layers and his Ashcloak left behind in the coat room.

He heard the dull thud from several feet away, but his otherwise observant gaze was both occupied and out of line of sight with the other man's transgression. After his last misadventures on the third floor of the library however, the Lord Arbiter couldn't help but cautiously step to the edge of the section he was in, corner of his eye catching sight of the book he finally wanted with a hiss through his teeth, peeking instead toward the sound.

He had books on the floor scattered nearby, and as the man began to get up, Caius reached to pick up a Geology Compendium that had slid to the endcap of his section. The young Gawyne didn't bother to read the other titles, assuming anyone with that many books on this side of the guarded entrance surely had permission, already well aware that most of those he'd come to rub shoulders with in the Arcana section were more likely to be students of the Arcane themselves, more likely to be possessing some spark or another, he had no choice but to tolerate their existence here in Viden Academy as a guest, regardless of his very limited granted authority,

"I believe you dropped this." The northern noble offered quietly, sharp blue gaze resisting the urge to study the stranger too closely at first lest he find himself searching for witch marks as if the other man was just another potential arrest. He reminded himself of how he'd already caused enough trouble in the Prime Atheneum, handing over the book and rolling his narrow shoulders in a casual, curious shrug, "Rocks and mining? Interesting choice of materials to bring with you to the third floor."
Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.

- LUCIO in MEASURE FOR MEASURE
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Damn.

That had hurt.

Jon slowly sat up. His face was still securely covered, and it was lucky no one would question his long sleeves being in such a cold place. Even the face gauze he could explain away as a sensitivity to the biting wind. Most people could tolerate the large encrustations of topaz on his arms, but even other mages were starting to look twice at his split lips. He would have to find some more attractive facial scarves if he was going to start making excuses for this as an eccentricity. He rubbed the back of his head with a groan, making sure to check and see if the back of his shirt was still securely covering the topaz on his neck. When he'd suitably arranged the cloth there and eased his 'neck ache', he started to get up and gather his books. He felt a bit guilty for treating them so poorly. He winced at the sight of the gemstone compendium laying on its spine like something had punched it in the gut. He carefully rearranged the pages, closed the book, and found another hovering in front of his face.

He blinked, and looked up, smiling under the gauze. A fairly useless exercise but oh well, he hoped it reached his eyes. He took the book and rose to his feet. "Thank you." he said, straightening himself up and tucking his little book collection back into the crook of his arm. There wasn't any mention of him climbing in, so perhaps this stranger either wasn't here to enforce the rules, or simply didn't care. That served Jon's purposes just fine. Really, all his reading was missing was a good few books on magic and a cup of tea.

The mage glanced at his books when the other man made mention of it. "Well...I'm a lapidary interested in magic. What else is there to tell?" he joked. "Really, I'm just looking to pick out a few books that look interesting and tuck myself into a corner. You don't look like the academic type if you don't mind me saying so...you've got a serious look about you and you're not carrying any books or a bag." He offered his hand. "I'm Jonathan Burr. Good to meet you."

Jon was a friendly creature. He knew someone would be suspicious about the face covering but he also didn't mind most of the probing questions. He was a mage, and proud of it even though he knew the dangers. Mage hunters still existed, and it didn't hurt to be a little cautious when introducing himself. Hob was manifesting less these days, especially in public areas, and Jon was trying to be cautious about how he came across to others. His sincere belief was that kindness could conquer that hatred and fear of magic, and if he only tried hard enough he could get through to the nastiest killer.

"Talkin"
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[Caius] Black Sheep

24th of Ymiden, 718

MID-TRIAL | THE PRIME ATHENEUM
S
harp blue eyes took in the man who accepted the return of his book, not really staring rudely so much as giving him a little more than just a cursory glance. There was an edge of caution to his curiosity, to the once-over that traveled past his face and over his person—was the northern noble looking for weapons? No. Not quite, but maybe it would feel that way unintentionally.

The gauze that hid the lower half of his face was unexpected, but for all the Lord Arbiter knew, the other man was fresh from the Infirmary. He was far too paranoid not to study the stranger for longer than was polite, his training under the direction of the Order of the Mantis and personal awareness that he wasn't in Rynmere at the moment putting him in a strange position of being unable to act upon the same situations he would have been expected to in his homeland. Finally shifting his gaze once the other man's face lit up in a smile beneath the covering that hid it. His eyes gave him away, of course, wrinkling just so at the edges to indicate an expression of good humor, but when the other man mentioned his interest in magic, that expression became much less of a comfort,

"Of course you are." The young Gawyne exhaled coolly, hiding any disdain that may have tainted his words with ease, containing himself and reaching into his well-studied store of knowledge about the various Domains of the arcane, "Let me guess—Defiance? Transmutation? Both perhaps would find some interest for someone who has knowledge of rocks."

The other man stuck out his hand and introduced himself. A heat licked against the charred cavity of Caius' chest—fear—and yet he was forced to swallow the fire and shake the other man's hand with a well-practiced politeness, quickly falling into the familiar role of just another noble needing to please a stranger. His permanently ink-stained fingers brushed an unfamiliar texture, however, and while he had the self-control to not look, the Lord Arbiter felt what he could only guess were hard, rock-like protrusions along the lower curve of this other man's palm.

A mutation, most likely.

His expression didn't falter, however, though his tone of voice was far more deadpan than it was cheerful, "Ry'tsam, Ser Burr."

He chose a greeting in Rakahi, perhaps to sound more academic, perhaps because it rolled off the tongue easier, or perhaps simply to throw the other man off, but the shifting color of his irises from pale blue to a more verdant green of amusement gave away his mixed heritage, "Caius Gawyne. I was a student here once, actually, two arcs ago. Though, I'm from Rynmere, serving my Kingdom in a slightly official capacity instead of a studious one." At least, he had been. His Religious and Printmaking studies had found themselves on hold since Cylus, the Lord Arbiter too busy with the unexpected new life Ziell had handed him, the delicate pianist he loved, and the difficult role he'd been given to play in his Kingdom under the Lord Inquisitor's watchful gaze. He chose not to give his title or mention the Order of the Mantis, cautiously assuming the other man who stood before him was, in fact, a mage. He wasn't a stranger to being in their presence, having tried and judged more than a handful since that day in Vhalar, but this was a different kingdom and a different context. Caius had made official promises to the Directorate to behave according to Viden's laws, not his own, "Currently, I'm here to conduct some research for my professional and personal edification that only the Prime Atheneum could truly satisfy when it came to resources."

Waving his other hand in the direction of the arcane part of the library behind them both, he used a waggle of his fingers for emphasis. They were both here for the books, though their reasons were, perhaps unbeknownst to Jonathan, very different,

"I just returned some books and am back for more to-trial, though. I was interrupted by the most curious sound, however. Knowledge is dangerous, but I haven't met anyone who has actually been physically floored by books. Did the stacks attack you?" Caius smirked, burying his discomfort and suspicion beneath humor, his words incredulous despite revealing he hadn't been a witness to Jonathan's transgression over the barrier. His irises darkened from green to a much darker blue, almost grey, and his gaze for a brief moment attempted to catch a glimpse of Jonathan's hand as if he had to see for himself what he'd touched. It was discreet, perhaps marginally disguised as idle curiosity about the other man, the young Gawyne practiced in the art of pretense and disguising his intentions, "Viden tends to be a tame place. Most of the time."
Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.

- LUCIO in MEASURE FOR MEASURE
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Jonathan Burr
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The man kept...looking him over. Staring at the gauze on his face, looking at the hand he'd shaken. That little sigh, like the man in front of him expected him to be involved in something unsavory. It wasn't disdain. Not quite that. More like something exasperating. Jon raised an eyebrow at him. The other did know a little bit about magic; Defiance and Transmutation would be the two chief disciplines that would deal in gemstones and rocks. Defiance wasn't exactly his style, but he wasn't going to tell this one that. Not yet. Jon could feel Hob's suspicion. Cold and crawling in the back of his mind. The Harvester disliked the man in front of him, but Jon couldn't get an answer as to why. As for himself, Jon was determined to try and not judge him.

"Just Jon." he corrected with an awkward grin. "...Ritsam to you too?" He knew he butchered the pronunciation on that one, but he was trying to be polite and greet the man in his own native tongue. It felt awkward rolling off of his own, and he faintly wondered what language that had been. The man's interest was certainly odd. He wouldn't stop raking those unusual shifting eyes over him. What was it he was wondering about? Jon's face covering? His books? The fact that he was clearly studying either Transmutation or Defiance? What was it that bothered this man? It couldn't be sexual attraction. The way Caius was looking at him was almost predatory, and not in the way Jon liked.

Rynmere. There was the rub. A mage-hating country that burned those who practiced it alive. Jon had been determined not to be a casualty, and he wasn't going to be one in Viden either. He wouldn't hesitate to defend himself. Even if it meant bringing out Hob. "Well...what sort of thing are you looking for?" Jon asked. "I'm aiming to go through at least half of this floor today if not all of it. Maybe I can find somewhere to take a nap in between studying."

At the very least, Caius hadn't seen his rather dubious entrance over the barrier. Thank gods for that. He didn't know to kick him out. He chuckled a little. "No, the books didn't attack me. I just...was over enthusiastic about what I thought I could carry." he peeked around the stacks, eyeing a set of long mahogany tables. Those were wide, flat, and perfect for stacking books on. "I think I'll set these down if you don't mind." He shifted his stack of books in his arms and went over to the tables, settling them down. His arms settled on the table with a clink. Not like armor, but like someone had set a sack of rocks down. He lifted one arm, relieving himself of the weight of the books, and rubbed at a little scar in the table. He really had to get used to these arms before he ruined something. A little twist in his gut at the thought of hurting a book. Maybe he'd wrap the crystals along his arms in a little cotton before he went out again.

His little hoard of gem books stacked neatly, he swanned among the stacks. Some of the books he'd only heard of. He started hoarding again, always keeping in the vicinity of Caius. Looking at him and smiling occasionally. His books were very specific. Transmutation and its Applications, Alchemy and Transmutation: Theories, and a book simply, sinisterly labeled Aberrants that he picked up, chuckled at dismissively, and added to the pile. He returned to his table freshly laden. Ah, now he could browse. But where to start? How about something they could both poke fun at. He selected the book on Aberration and settled down, shaking his head slightly. What a ridiculous opening thesis. It made it sound like all Aberrants were mad to begin with. Or on their path to it.

'I thought you went to a library specifically NOT to read things idiots had written.'Hob observed curiously. 'Though really, you should start keeping a running tally of how many times they use the word 'monster'.'
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[Caius] Black Sheep

24th of Ymiden, 718

MID-TRIAL | THE PRIME ATHENEUM
T
he Sesser was aware that since Syroa's unasked for blessing, he was often perceived differently than he had been before she'd trapped him between her Lustful self and all that death in the Courtyard in Vhalar. At first, the unusual attention was somewhat flattering to the northern noble who was already quite comfortable with his appearance. Once he realized it was more than just his wife's attractions that grew more focused but also the attentions of strangers, he eventually came to the understanding that this was the draw of the Actress' Domain of Lust more than it was himself, personally. The Fates knew how well he handled most situations on a day to day basis, especially lately, and he wasn't sure whether to consider the misinterpretation of his intentions as a boon or a burden.

Sometimes, one or the other. Sometimes, both. Sometimes, neither.

Still, he smirked at the effort at Rakahi, noting the man, like himself, preferred his first name on matter how often he'd had to toss around his sarding title since arriving in the frozen north. The young Gawyne did his best to quell the fear and frustration and discomfort that began to snake through the halls of his veins and coil in the pit of his stomach. The other man was a mage from all the evidence he'd gathered thus far, Caius' thoughts referencing back to some of the books he'd been reading about Defiance at the behest of Charlotte and her supposedly Famula-ordained mission for Essa. The young Gawyne willed himself to relax—a rather excruciatingly difficult trick these days—and sighed, audibly, through his nose and shifted on his feet, his body language becoming much less tense as he tucked away his conflicting emotions behind the mask of Syroa's gifts,

"So, I'll tell you, Jon: the best place to nap in the Prime Atheneum is on the second floor—there's a nook in the Genealogy section that literally gets no foot traffic for most of the trial. At least, it was my secret while I was a student here over an arc ago." The young Gawyne almost smiled then in a conspiratory fashion, but it appeared as though the expression had been forgotten somewhere instead, "Don't sarding tell anyone I told you. I'm here to further my understanding of Rupturing and Defiance, though it's more of an idle curiosity for me, you could say, than purely academic interest."

He shrugged with as much false self-deprecation as he could muster, nodding when Jon suggested he wanted to put his books down and following because he'd become curious. How few opportunities the Lord Arbiter had to observe and converse with those who actually possessed a spark—at least casually. All of his interactions thus far had been under the duress of an arrest, of a trial, or, at worst, of an execution. Caius didn't read books with mages, didn't carry on conversations with them, and he sure as the Sacred Seven founded Rynmere didn't shake a mage's hand.

Well, now he did, now he had to, but only because he was far from home and expected to conduct himself, for the most part, under the laws of the Videnese. At least in public view.

The touch had stirred not just his physical senses, but the strange prophetic gift his great grandfather had bestowed on him through his mark, Ziell's touch allowing him just a hint of insight into the creature who set down his books and scratched the fucking table with his arms—the taste of fresh loam lingered against his tongue and he didn't entirely need to wonder for too long what that meant.

Caius blinked, pale gaze darting from Jon's to the divot left behind, but his well-practiced neutral expression didn't falter. The academic noble was somewhat fascinated, the curious, studious part of his mind that had been too often put on hold lately due to his personal struggles and current profession clawed its way greedily to the surface. In that brief trill, the Lord Arbiter observed: he heard the sound, saw the scratch, tasted the earth, and remembered the touch of rough, hard something on the man's hand. In that brief trill, however, Caius said nothing and didn't allow his Order-trained instincts to cloud his thoughts or twist his intentions.

"I've had that problem before—with books." He offered, finally taking a moment to study the titles on Jon's books, "Bogs, it looks like we'll be haunting the same stacks to-trial. Would you have any recommendations, considering it looks as though you're the more experienced party?"

A flicker of a smile and Caius willed himself to relax further, to stand in the neutral ground that Viden offered him for just this singular moment in time. What better way to know your enemy than to first be their friend?
Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.

- LUCIO in MEASURE FOR MEASURE
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Jonathan Burr
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Jon smirked. The genealogy section. He'd remember that. A good place to nap, or perhaps commune with something a little more sinister. Maybe if he could get a date in Viden he knew where to take them. He nodded at the man's interest of Rupturing and Defiance. "Why those two magics?" he asked. "Though I get why you're interested. Rupturing means gateways, and that alone brings that entire big question of how mages transport things from one place to another. Or hell, travel so far so fast. My personal theory is that they just kind of....skip over reality. Like a needle popping down into a piece of fabric and going through the other side. Defiance seems a lot more tied to nature than I am. There are some things that just don't listen to me. Water, fire. Air. It's like not knowing a language. You can babble at those things all you like but it's not going to do you a whole lot of 'sarding' good." he smirked back at Caius.

He blushed a bit at the marks in the table. He could fix them but...using magic in public wasn't really seen as a good thing. Well...maybe a little. He shrugged his shoulders and gestured at one of the stacks. "Rupturing has a lot of theories behind it but if you hear it from anyone other than rupturer it's going to be either wild tales or bunk. Try a few of the more famous mages on Idalos; some of them have written books. Defiance catches everyone's interest due to its connection with the elements...and a lot of mages that have gone a bit wild with fire." he gestured to different stacks as he spoke, and his hand laid flat against the marks in the table. It was only a little ether. Just a little, inserted into the divets. It popped the damaged wood back up, and sealed the tiny cracks in the finish. By the time he'd finished shifting his hand, the marks looked like they'd never been there at all.

"We can go look, if you like? I'm looking for more information on Aberration but I wouldn't mind studying Defiance." Jon suggested. He rooted through his books and slid a tome on geology over to Caius. "Understanding Defiance mages starts with understanding their elements."
"Talkin"
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C
aius rolled his narrow shoulders in a dismissive shrug, attempting to deflect Jon's pointed question.

"They're disciplines I've always been curious about." He offered shallowly, a half-truth meant to disguise his much more official, probably less socially acceptable intentions. Defiance was an arcane practice that was well-known in Viden, sponsored by the Directorate itself under the moniker of public works. Mages kept the city warm, protected, and in an impeccable state of repair. Rupturing was personal, for the Lord Arbiter would never forget the sight of undead creatures crawling and writhing their way through that portal in the Courtyard of the Crown on that day in Vhalar. He would never forget that foul undead bear, either.

"Are you Videnese? Or just a visiting student? I know that the Directorate employs Defiers, and so I thought to understand them more while I was here. Rupturing just seems like an odd magic, so I thought I'd indulge my interests just a little to-trial. For fun." There. Close enough to the truth that perhaps the northern noble's warm smile, too brief hopefully to be seen as hollow, even if that's how he felt, made his words more convincing.

Caius listened to Jon's opinions on Rupturing, aware that most common folk didn't even know the name for the discipline (or any discipline, for that matter), barely aware of what it was or what it could do, "Well, Jon, honestly, here in Idalos' most precious and intellectually sound library, who doesn't have a sarding opinion?" His grin was like a shark's, breaking through the hurt and exhaustion that he hid so thinly just under his well-practiced mask, implying that perhaps too many people felt the freedom to write their ideas down on parchment and call it a book on theory. He nodded, "Bogs! Academia is full of folks who love to hear their own voice, but I can only imagine that bringing arcana into the mix makes those thoughts even more bizarre."

He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek instead of chuckling at the other man's next actions, unable to miss watching him repair the damage he'd caused without shame or fear out of the corner of his eye. Only a hint of hesitation from the mage, but otherwise, it was so simple. His own fear he buried. And his own shame? He hardly had any.

Such a simple act—was that alone worth execution? What kind of power Jon hid beneath the surface to deign such a simple act worth doing despite the public view! Power left unchecked was dangerous, and yet the other man didn't appear mad with it.

Yet.

The judge for the Order of the Mantis exhaled slowly through his teeth, attempting to make sense of what he'd just witnessed, riffling through the catalog of his knowledge—what kind of mage was Jon? The motion of the other man's arm gave Caius a better view of the rock-like protrusions on the edge of his hand that crawled up his wrist and disappeared under his sleeve. A mutation, surely, caused by the wild nature of the growing spark (or sparks) within him. The Lord Arbiter realized he wasn't familiar enough, he didn't know enough, to even predict the creature before him.

What should have filled him with unease, however, made him more curious. Here in neutral ground, bound to keep from slaughtering every barer of the spark on sight, here the northern noble could study without consequence.

He chuckled, "Fire is ... destructive but cleansing, yes. However, being from Rynmere, my opinion on that element could be perceived as a little biased."

Caius smirked at the irony he couldn't express out loud, the charred cavity of his chest suddenly full of so much smoke and ash as the Lord Arbiter straightened to his full height and ink-stained fingers toyed listlessly with the buttons of his violet brocade vest for lack of something better to do,

"I could ask the same of you—Aberration? Not even welcome here in the experimental Academy, I doubt you'll find too much written on the subject even in the stacks of the Prime Atheneum. Is that an idle curiosity or personal investment?"
The real hero is always a hero by mistake;
he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else.

- UMBERTO ECO
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Jonathan Burr
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[Caius] Black Sheep

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Jon smiled a bit. "A student." he lied. What could would it do to admit that he was neither a citizen nor student, and that he'd essentially broken into that part of the library? No, he'd be kicked out. He played the part of the academic well and seemed to have practically everyone convinced. Caius didn't seem that way at all, really. Not an academic, but something else entirely. Someone that pawed at academia's skirts but didn't really understand how to proceed. He found it interesting; laymen typically didn't spend all days in libraries discussing theories. "Seems a bit heavy of a place to be scouring for books." he said. "Ever thought of finding a Rupturer or Defier? If what you say is true and Viden employs them, it shouldn't be too difficult. And yes....everyone does have an opinion. That's how we learn. If you never question things, how do you expect to learn?"

Jon grinned and shook his head. "Hey, if you have a well-researched opinion there is no problem with inviting criticism and construction on it." he theorized. Jon was of course a little hesitant about repairing the table, but he was to be a ghost here. He needed to get in, research what he could and leave the rest. He didn't need any grievances like destruction of property hanging over his head. He eyed Caius when he brought up Rynmere. "Rynmere signs its own death warrant in tiny penstrokes. Ignorant fucking fools the lot of them. They're the type that see a beautiful painting and only think of the waste of time. They view majesty as something to shoot and stick on a wall, and mystery as some knee-jerk reaction. They're worse than any Aberrant, Necromancer or Defier. They wield fire like a child who's found his father's crossbow. Eventually....they'll shoot themselves in the gut with it." he said coldly. "Ignorance is a disease, Caius, and I intend to root it out and crush it with every man I come across. Ignorance of magic seems to be a particularly vile disorder."

Jon sighed and settled back in his seat. "Aberrants are some of the least-studied men on this planet. They're hated and loathed, and killed everywhere they're found. No one's ever bothered to study them. To actually find out how they function. I personally believe that they can be guided." he said. "I believe, that, like every other predator on this world....that they were made to control mages. They are the wolves keeping mages in check, attracted to power. I think that, with time and education, people could come to make peace with them much like wolves."
"Talkin"
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