Two and a Half Mul

Log Info

• Title: Two and a Half Mul
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna, Aetheras
• Place: Society for Progressive Arcanists
• Time: October 18th, 2021
• Summary: Within the halls of study, the not mage Aryia is doing some linguistical study. Verna is going about her second (or third) home amongst the shelves and Aetheras is returning a book. Verna notes Aryia's choice of study but its soon waylaid by another mul'neissa catching their attention. Odd it was to have this much mul in one spot. Aetheras asks about Aryia's scars, which the mute fires back a question of her own. They quickly learn that both of them had similar experiences of being in fighting pits, though their locations were a bit further away from one another. The man leaves, with Verna and Aryia discussing languages, necromancy, as well as the folly of some people.

Society for Progressive Arcanists, Noon.

It's a grey day that's only further bleak by a lazy swirling mist that rolls up from the sea. Thankfully such elements are left outside, as the windows were the only notion that outside was dreary.

Crammed into one of the study nooks was someone that sticks out like a sore thumb amongst all the mingling mages: a layman squinting quizzically at a worn tome.

Aryia is sitting at a small table with a fresh journal laid out in front of her, her shimmering eyes squinted at a book of dense text with precise designs, almost like matricies given language and meaning. She's clad in an open verdant green jacket, a few buckles dangling free from it with a white shirt under it. A soft sigh leaves her, her closing her eyes and regaining her patience before trying again.

She's still on the first page.

The Arcanist's library is perhaps Verna's second home (or third, if other libraries are included, though priorites vary at any given time). The comparatively short mass of gray robes moves along the aisles with several tomes in tow: one hovers before her, perused as she moves; one is tucked under an arm; two others hover behind her, perhaps further in line. Given the enclosure from the whether, and to improve peripheral vision, her hood is in the somewhat more rare state of being doffed.

The click clack of beads and bones coming together announces the arrival of Aetheras into the library. He's carrying a huge tome in both arms, apparently returning it to its location, murder in his eyes.

Another lofty sigh, the scarred mul'neissa setting the book down and leaning back in the chair to rub at her face. Why did she decide to do this again? Lips quirk into a ghost of a smile. Oh. Right.

Shimmering eyes glance off to the side as a mass of robes shuffle on by. By this point, Aryia had shoved down her unease about the casual displays of magic, floating books, artifice, so on and so forth.

She sits upright, blinking owlishly. A half-mul? Eyes adjust to look past them, and the studying one's confusion climbs fourfold. And a full blooded one?

Two and a half mul'neissa, half the population of such folk in Alexandria was probably now concentrated in this very room.

She blatantly stares on.

Verna's peripheral vision seems to catch the sudden sitting upright, perhaps the blink, as she passes, though the full-body motion is more conspicuous. Her steps pause and her head turns to Aryia, eyes briefly dipping to the open book on the table. "You have an interest in Artifice, or possibly Kulthian culture and history? Admittedly, the topics are nearly interchangeable."

Aetheras catches Aryia staring and stares back as intently, even as he slides the enormous tone back into place.

IT's very much a "What? You want a piece of me?" sort of look--because he's used to getting those sort of reactions from everyone...though the tiniest expression of, what, recognition? Fraternity? Something? passes through his mien first.

The Mul'neissa woman's staring was more of surprise. But at the challenging look, the stare morphs into one of a returned challenge 'No, but I'll gladly rip a piece out if I have to.'

Seeing another full blooded kin about in the wild aside, she shakes her head and looks over to the stopped mage. Aryia blinks, her looking down to the open tome that basically screamed 'Kulthian for dummies' based on the context before looking back to the half-mul. Aryia raises a hand, wobbling it slightly in a 'so-so' manner. A few wide penstokes on the fresh journal in Tradespeak easily read:

"Just want to learn to read it."

Verna is momentarily surprised by the form that Aryia's response takes, though she has no issues interpreting said response. "I see. That particular volume is rather useful, though there are others which present the material in a more digestible manner. Moreso if you are new to the language."

On this topic, she then sets down the tome under her arm upon Aryia's table. This frees the arm to join her other as she gestures with her hands; precise, even stiff motions of gloved fingers suggest far more study of such than common use. "You can speak with gestures?" <Handspeech>

As she awaits a response from one fullblood, Verna looks to the other. Now it appears her turn to have her eyes linger (stare, if you will) as the brand is noted on the weathered skin.

"You earn those or are they ritual?" asks Aetheras, upnodding to denote Aryia's neck scars, even as his eyes flit back and forth to the various hand gestures being made in his presence.

There's a relieved sort of look that crosses her features, twice, first at there being easier tomes present, and again as familiar hand shapes unfold in front of her. "Yes, I sign," deft fingers motion back. "Do you know where I could find those books? This one is a bit... much for me." <Handspeech>

The other mul'neissa's approaching yanks all of Aryia's attention, her standing briskly and facing the man. Shimmering eyes squint, looking the man over, sizing him up, trying to see if-

Eyes lock on the brand. "... n- f-ck-ng w-ay..." faint, hissed, voiceless words spill from her in disbelief as she rubs at something on her back. She flips to a new page on her journal, scribbles something down in large script before picking up the book to show him:

"Earned. You a runaway too?"

Question for a question.

Verna's eyes return to Aryia to read her response, followed by a casual glance to the large 'scripted' response to the man. Her own lips purse. "It appears that we all abandoned similar aspects in favor of Alexandria." More specifically, to Aryia, she futher adds, "I do, and can aid in retrieval. It was not so long ago that I used the very same tomes for the same purpose."

With a nod to Verna, Aetheras returns his focus to Aryia.

"Yes. But got recaptured. This is the last master. Underwood. Sometimes, people keep the promises they make," he adds, fingering the feathered pendant at his neck.

Aryia gives a similar nod to Verna, a hand off to the side flicking brief signs, "If you don't mind. I would appreciate the help." <Handspeech>

Verna's comment and Aetheras's answer discombobulates the mute woman for a spell. She had never actually ran into another mul'neissa that faced similar circumstances, it wa-

Her head whips over to Aetheras. Her lips mouth, "Underwood?", like the name had left her lips before in the past.

There's a LOT of scribbling.

"Wait, hold on. Underwood? THE Underwood? In the Vast? I only heard of them in Charn. We've had to fight them in the pits from time to time. I wish they picked me up instead."

She looks between the two, beyond perplexed. More scribbling.

"Who exactly are you two? I'm Aryia."

Verna ahs softly at the introduction. "My apologies. I am Sage Mourner Verna. A pleasure to make your acquaintance," she responds to them both. "Should you wish any assistance here, feel free to ask."

Aetheras smiles, "My FREED-name is Aetheras. It is the only name I have," he says, bringing his palm to his heart. "Well met, Aryia. Well met, Verna."

He adds a little bow after each name.

Aryia's confusion smooths out slowly to piqued interest. This was... an interesting turn of events. "Nice to meet you," she motions to the both of them, but mouths the words for Aetheras, seeing as he wasn't picking up what she was putting down. "I will take you up on that, Verna."<Handspeech>

Turning her attention to the other pit fighter, her pen flicks across the pages once more and shows the words again.

"You were freed. You are one of the lucky ones. I ran."

"A boon to meet you, truly," Aetheras says, his delight at finding someone with some sort of shared experience obvious for them to see.

He pauses for a moment and turns to Varna. "Whatever help is on offer, I will avail myself. Have you heard of magical prodigies? I have. And I'm most certainly not one of them." He grins, "Each spell is as hard earned as a scar..."

Aryia does not hold similar sentiments of magical matters. Her leaving the notion of spells alone for the time being.

There is some more scribbling, the mute woman's delight more, well, muted. Finding similar origins was comforting that she wasn't alone. But that also opens the gates for the past to come back. She presents her writing.

"Aytheras. There are not many ex-slave mul'neissa pit fighters. We should talk later."

There is a neutral stare behind the hoisted journal. It was less a 'should' and more of a 'will'.

Aetherassmiles, "We will," he says, raising a brow, since she hasn't said a word. He wonder is she will.

Coupled with the scars on the front of her throat, her writing out her words, and gestures given, it wasn't too hard to put the pieces together that this pugilist had no physical capability of speaking.

Aryia gives a slight squint in suspicion as the fellow fullblooded mul'neissa goes, before she slowly reels her attention back to Verna.

... a mage. Hmm. Now she wasn't sure which was worse: dealing with a mage, or dealing with a mirror of her past...

"I would not expect the number of ex-slaves, here, regardless of origin or speciality," Verna notes generally after Aetheras departs, "though I am not displeased that there are more than expected."

Turning now to Aryia more directly, she shifts, "I will locate the other primers, if you wish it. Is your interest in the language casual? It is no small undertaking, yet I consder it a worthwhile hobby."

Aryia gives a small sigh and nods. "I agree. It surprised me." The hidden subtext makes the mute woman squint at Verna. "... I'm not going to ask how you add to that number," she dismissively waves. She herself didn't like speak of her past with strangers. No reason to bother others about it.

Focused on her initial reason for being here, she rubs her neck, glancing down to the smaller woman. That honestly felt odd to do. "Casual. For now. I know it's going to be hard, but I have time. It doesn't help that I'm terrible at reading and math to begin with. I do appreciate your help." <Handspeech>

Verna nods to Aryia. "One moment." With that excusing of herself, she departs to vanishes amongst the many shelves. It is, in fact, three moments before she returns, all told, bearing two tomes in hand. These are set upon Aryia's claimed area of the table. "I recommend both of these. They may lack some fine technical accuracy that your first choice holds, but they are more easily consumed and cover enough common parlance and vernacular to be of use. The topmost is in Sildanyari, if that might aid you in some way."

She returns to the prior conversation despite her interruption to it. "Few are taught reading, writing, nor arithmetic. It is a means to disempower and control. I spent my entire childhood in the company of the enslaved, so I am, for better or worse, well-informed of the methodology and culture."

Aryia returns to her seat as Verna departs, her head filled with a dozen questions from the recent development. Such thinking is put aside as Verna returns, her fixing the way the jacket sits on her frame. Huh. Going to need to tailor that a bit...

She leans forward, examining the two books. Though an embarrsed red dusts her face. "... I can't read Sildanyari," a hand motions with small gestures, gently pushing that book to the side. "But thank you."

Broaching the prior conversation makes the full blooded mul'neissa shift some in her seat. Someone educated on the topic? Colors of violet and crimson waft through her mind's eye before a soft sigh leaves her. She brings a boot up under the table, and shoves the other chair out on the other side.

The mute gestures to the offered chair. "You would be right. I only just learned how to write and read in Trade about a year ago." <Handspeech>

"Training or education are not measures of intelligence nor potential," Verna informs her. "The most unskilled individual can accomplish great things... or even the most learned can be a fool."

The shifting chair draws her eye, and she moves to settle upon it. "In that example, the uneducated has the advantage: one can always learn new facts, and I believe all should strive to do so. Natural idiocy, however, is far more difficult to overcome."

For some reason, that last line effectively disarmed the distrusting mul'neissa. There would have been a bark of laughter, but it comes only as a huff of air and smirk crossing her lips. "I don't think more truer words have been spoken in the past few decades," she lightly motions. A sigh does leave her, however. "Though I think most of my credit is just due to the time I am afforded."

She glances to the cryptic and dense language set before her. Should she tap into the past? Or... what she was to learn for the future? Perhaps the latter, she didn't know this person that well. "... I was told this language was sort of frowned upon by other mages." <Handspeech>

Verna makes a vague hand gesture towards Aryia. "You do have the advantage of time, as well. Of that, I am rather envious."

Another gesture, now to the book. "It is not the language, itself, but what many believe that it represents. The Kulthians made great discoveries in Artifice and its advancement. They also accrued great power, and too quickly, perhaps. In the end, they did not use this power responsibly nor ethically, and they destroyed themselves. Some believe it is the nature of the discoveries, themselves, that were corrupted or corrupting. Others fear that any who follow in their ways, even in a minor fashion, would make the same errors and bring the same ruin."

"I am glad that most of my years have been spent among the shorter lived folk, so I understand the importance of burning bright with what time you have," Aryia comments on the topic of time. Her face laxes, and her dimmed eyes go distant for naught a beat before shaking her head to break free of whatever memory that plagued her.

She leans forward some, paying careful attention to the history of the codified math that she was trying to get into. Her brows pinch. "I see why this language is not particularly liked then. Even though it looks like it is almost perfect for making anything needing gears."

A pause to think. "And yet, despite all that superstition, you learned it as well?" <Handspeech>

Verna nods. "I learned it as I studied the nature of Artifice, as the two are closely entwined. Artifice is not so different from magic. In turn, neither are so different from sword, bow, or plot. They are not inherently boon nor bane, they are simply tools. It is the wielder that effects its use, determines the 'why.' I studied the 'how.'"

Aryia rubs her left arm, nodding to herself. Others have mentioned magic in similar capacities, though few actually made good on it and didn't parade their expertise on it. There's a bit of an impressed look on her face as she mentions bluntly, "You know, you're probably the first mage that hasn't pissed me off in the first five minutes of meeting them." <Handspeech>

Verna lifts a brow slightly at that statement. "That may be due, in part, to the fact that I am not only a mage. I am a Mourner of Vardama, as well. Conversely, it may also merely be that your other experiences have granted you more patience... or that you are not one of my students. All things come in time."

"Actually, less patience. Even the gods graced still do stupid shit. All of them mages to me," Aryia gestures back, smiling faintly before shaking her head. "Regardless. What.. uh... do you teach?" <Handspeech>

"I offer several courses here at The Society," Verna explains," most involving the nature of mana and the various paradigms for its use, as well as specialties in Necromancy. Like Artifice, it is, regretably, a facet of focus that many judge only by its most nefarious uses."

Aryia cocks her head to the side, a brow rising further at the subject suggested. "The only time I've seen that kind of magic used is when Thul needs bodies, or when people do dumb shit with it."

She shifts a bit in her chair. "... what's your take on it, then?" <Handspeech>

Unlike others, at least this person was willing to hear the Necromancer out.

Verna nods with the comment, likely utterly unsurprised by it. The inquiry afterwards is something of a pleasant diversion from the norm, however, and prompts a flicker of... not quite a smile. "That is what most visualize with the term. As a whole, it is the study of life and death, body and soul, and how these segments interact with one another, as well as mana, itself, to form the whole that we perceive."

"Yes, this allows the immoral to subvert souls or command shells of corpses without them, but that is only a tiny fraction of the whole. Weakening foes, healing allies, restoring the fallen... all of this is, or has its origins in, Necromancy."

It must be reiterated that this was a layman. And not just any layman, a layman that had naught for any sort of education. The only reason why Aryia was able to vaguely follow along with the explanation was her experiences that many decades afforded her.

The full blood scratches her head. "That's a lot. I didn't know it did all that."

A long moment to string something halfway educated together. "So it's... kind of like the magic that messes with people's minds. Some of it can be good, calming or soothing. Or it can be bad, like taking over minds or tricking people into liking someone they shouldn't?" she tries to compare and comprehend. <Handspeech>

"Yes, indeed," Verna nods. "It is not the tool that is good or bad, but how it is wielded. A sword is crafted to wound, to kill. It does not know nor care whether it dispenses justice or terror. If one were to witness horrors delivered by blades, one might associate and ascribe murder to any and all swords." Her shoulders rise and fall as both hands upturn. "Just as some might take all the slights delivered by a single bloodline in the past and place the blame upon every dark-skinned individual they saw."

The last of Verna's words make the mul'neissa rub her left arm, her looking off to the side. A long sigh leaves her. "Yet they still place them regardless of how obvious the ones places it haven't given any of the slights," her hands motion before she scratches her head at the things before her.

"So... uh.... while we're somewhat on the topic... do... you have any books that could help me read this one?" Aryia requests, tapping on the Kulthian guide that was in Sildanyari. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-