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[Bartholomew]

2nd Day Of Spring 515 AV

Light stood nervously in front of a small home. Every tick or so he would pace from the right end of the home to the left. He thought profoundly about something, as shown by the look on his face. People who passed by him tried to ignore him, and he looked to do the same to them. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, he focused more on his thoughts than anything else. The only reason he did not step into the lake due to his seemingly loss of placement was because of his basic human nature. His brain did not want his body to fall into the river, so his brain told his body when to turn when he was near the end of the deck, and also when to avoid clashing in with someone else.

He hadn't been doing this all day. It was only recently, when the sun was at its fullest, when he began to walk from left to right in front of this building. He would only stop a few tick later and commence doing what he had planned himself to do this day.

Light moved himself slowly to the door of the building he was pacing in front of not long ago, and knocked, reluctantly at first. He moved back quickly in anticipation of something, or someone. He had a worried look on his face, one that would probably not go away for a while.

As he waited for something to happen, he went into the habit of fixing his bastard sword holster that was on his back. He did the same with his knife on his waste before hiding it under his blue coat. The sword could be shown to everyone, but Light always kept the dagger hidden.

He then stared at the house he was standing next to, just to kill the time while he waited. He noticed that the building was finely structured, but had only one window in the front of the home. Light did not see this as a bad thing, but he thought it kinda strange. If there was only a few windows, how would anyone be able to see during the daytime in this place? A lot of candles would be needed, and a lot of fire hazards would need to be worried about.

[Clyde Sullins]

2 Spring 515 It was a new year once more. Clyde however found it was so far not so different than the last one. He had various things to work on, but mostly he was just waiting for things to come to fruition, waiting to hear back on certain things, and thus able to move on. Soon enough, though perhaps not for another season or two, he'd be leaving Ravok and heading back to Sahova. Till then he had to keep himself busy, with a mix of experimentation and Ebonstryfe duties. Planning for such experimentation in his lab was what he'd been doing when he heard a knock at the front door. Rye perked up from sitting near his feet, responding to the noise. However he did not move, waiting for a order from his master. Clyde had been sitting at his desk writing on a piece of parchment, brainstorming. As he did, he let his hands flow idly, absentmindedly filling out a simple scroll design of a focus in the middle and a barrier about it. Though he'd added the triangle of a trigger incision he'd not actually filled out the precise trigger condition. That usually took direct notice and thought. The basics of it though were so simple that it acted as a good distraction. In response to the knock Clyde set down his glyphing work and supplies, and rose, taking up Cha from where she rested against the edge of the desk. As always she was easily within reach. Nowadays it was rare to see the mage without his staff Cha. He also wore his enchanted robes, emblazoned on the front with the symbol of the Stryfe. In Ravok he could freely wear it as such, whereas in other places he tended to wear it with its reversed side that was much plainer. Heading out of his lab, Clyde had to unlock the door, and then usher Rye out before locking it again behind him. Out in the common area, Clyde glanced about once, checking the doors at the back of the room that led into a pair of bedrooms identical to two more leading to an additional pair of rooms at the back of his lab. Heading to the front door he opened it to see who was outside. “What?” Clyde asked, annoyance in his voice, as he stared back at the man at his door. He said nothing else, instead waiting for him to fill Clyde in with why he was there. Clyde took in his clothes, average quality and in a decent mend, the sword he wore openly at his side, and his face. He also had a small amount of facial hair. Clyde himself kept his face clean shaven, though he let his unruly hair grow out to a moderate length for a man.

[Bartholomew]

Out he came, a man with a very stylish robe and a well fashioned staff. From first glance Light tried to evaluate the man he was to meet. He had baby blue eyes with tanned skin that suggested how much time he had spent outside than in the dark. Maybe windows for light where not needed, Light wondered. When the man spoke he shared a hint of irritation in his voice. This startled Light, for he had dealt with an irritated man before, most of the time it was his father, and he knew that each word he may say might irritate him even more.

Light also knew, from what the stories where told of him, that this man may be very busy, thus his time may be seen as wasted from just answering the door. With a high esteemed man like this, or high esteemed in Light's eyes, he did not want to irritate or waste time.

"Clyde Sullin I presume?" He now said in a blur. Light spoke fast but also very clearly for the man. Years of his practice facing his father had taught him much in how to respectfully speak to well educated and highly valued men like Clyde. He stood straight to promote confidence and did not stumble at his words.

"My name is Light Dicey, son of Paladin Don Dicey. I have heard great many things about you and your line of work, and am here to ask of you to train me in the mystics of magic. It may seem very troublesome to teach a young student when you, yourself, are a very busy man, but I offer to you a fast learning, obedient, and diligent student who may even one day come to help you in his studies."

He paused to see what the man would say, anticipating the worst.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde didn't bother answering his first question, which was more of a statement really. "Clyde Sullin I presume?" But then, if he hadn't been here for him, then he wouldn't have had reason to knock on his door or to bother him. Clyde didn't really go for idle chatter, so he wasn't one to add unneeded fluff and niceties to his words. He supposed the fact that he did not deny the name would be confirmation enough for the man. Which apparently he was, as he chose to go on before Clyde responded. "My name is Light Dicey, son of Paladin Don Dicey. I have heard great many things about you and your line of work, and am here to ask of you to train me in the mystics of magic. It may seem very troublesome to teach a young student when you, yourself, are a very busy man, but I offer to you a fast learning, obedient, and diligent student who may even one day come to help you in his studies." Clyde did not do anything for a few moments, simply mulling his words over for a bit while staring back at the man. If the glare did not unnerve him, perhaps the silence after he spoke would. He'd told him a decent bit of things in a short span of time, though Clyde had no way of knowing how much was true. His name apparently was Light Dicey... And his father was a Stryfe. Perhaps he thought that meant Clyde would be more likely to aid him? As for the bit about magic, that was just vague enough to tell Clyde nothing. It did not say if he knew any magic already before coming to Clyde, if he knew what magic Clyde had, or anything really. Instructing someone in "magic" or requesting that someone would, was about as specific as asking for a specific fish out of a barrel of fish, by just saying hand me my fish. That alone told Clyde something about him, and his likely ineptitude. Then there was an odd promise at the end, of future services possibly offered due to his current instruction of him. A silly thing in and of itself. Who offered nothing but the promise of a future thing, and only a possibility of it, in exchange for something as valuable as he asked Clyde for? “You want me to teach you? In the... mystics of magic? Were you dropped on your head as a child? Repeatedly?” Clyde frowned back at him, before continuing on without giving him a chance to answer. Not that he really expected a specific answer out of it. “If you want instruction, and your father is as well placed as you say, why don't you just go to the Institute for instruction? ” “Not to mention... What exactly do you think "the mystics of magic is", and what do you exactly think learning said thing would entail?” As he once more repeated the phrase "mystics of magic" Clyde made an exaggerated and flippant hand gesture with his free left hand. If hand motions could hold a derisive tone, that one certainly would. “And if all you have to offer in exchange is a future promise of possible assistance, why in the world would I offer my services? Do you think magic is to be let out to every passer by? I don't instruct to the public, and certainly not to the non-initiate. Come back when you have something to offer. Now shoo.” With that Clyde made a "shooing" motion, and prepared to turn and head back inside. Though if he asked Clyde to stop, or began to spurt out some response in a rush to get him to stay, as Clyde fully expected him to within moments, he would stop. It was a common interrogation tactic, to make the person feel urgency to talk to you, and let them think you cared nothing of what they said, and they'd all to likely be tripping over themselves to say whatever they could.

[Bartholomew]

“You want me to teach you? In the... mystics of magic? Were you dropped on your head as a child? Repeatedly?” The man retorted.

Light blinked as if he had no understanding of what the man was saying. As the man continued, Light conjectured on where he had screwed up in his sentence to make the man resolve to angry comments.

“If you want instruction, and your father is as well placed as you say, why don't you just go to the Institute for instruction?" The man continued. Light wanted to get a word in, answer all of the mans questions before more would come, but with no avail, he was forced to listen to this man give him the greatest of insults he had ever received.

“Not to mention... What exactly do you think "the mystics of magic is", and what do you exactly think learning said thing would entail? And if all you have to offer in exchange is a future promise of possible assistance, why in the world would I offer my services? Do you think magic is to be let out to every passer by? I don't instruct to the public, and certainly not to the non-initiate. Come back when you have something to offer. Now shoo.”

After saying all this, the man made a hand gesture that resembled someone scaring away a meddlesome stray dog bothering them for food. It was very insulting and pride demolishing for Light, who was already very nervous to ask the man for help.

Way to knock a hopeful mind down, Light said, closing his eyes and hanging his head in both shame and defeat. However, as he heard the man step back into his home, Light kept hearing his conscience tell him not to give up, to keep trying. Light always tried to listen to his conscience, since it was his voice of reason. So he tried something else in hopes of attracting the mans favor.

"So, how about I pay you?" Light said loud enough for the man to hear, seldom hoping that the man would turn with interest. He stood tall once more, and placed both hands behind his back to seem professional. "For every day you instruct me in Magic I will pay you fifty GM. This will give me an incentive to not bother you every day and will also give some worth to our training for you."

"And I am not non-initiate. I am already a wind reimancy user and a hypnotist. So, at least you will not be training a complete newbie...?"

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde paused at his next words, though likely not for the reason the man expected. "So, how about I pay you?" "For every day you instruct me in Magic I will pay you fifty GM. This will give me an incentive to not bother you every day and will also give some worth to our training for you." "And I am not non-initiate. I am already a wind reimancy user and a hypnotist. So, at least you will not be training a complete newbie...?" Clyde paused for a moment in the doorway, still facing away. At least he had said something of use, a truth, and something of content. The man was already a mage, a Reimancer and a Hypnotist. The rest of what he'd said though, was but idle drivel. He'd not even answered any of his questions, least of all being why he didn't go to the institute to learn. Clyde rounded about back to face the man, glaring once more, now anger clearly showing on his face. He brought Cha to bear along with himself, and as he spoke he made his point clear by ending each sentence by prodding roughly at the man's chest with the head of Cha. “What do you think I am, a petching whore? That I'll just give you what you want if you toss me a little coin! What do you see magic as, a commodity to be bought and sold for something as cheap as money? A trade to be taught and learned like carpentry or smithing?” His rage truly rising at the mans disrespect of magic, and his clear lack of understanding of what he was asking for, Clyde finally raised his voice as he continued. “Show some respect for Magic! Its not a trade! Does a carpenter risk losing his mind and soul if he doesn't respect his wood? Magic! It's life! It's death! Its something to be feared and respected in equal measures. It is not something to be bought or sold upon a whim.” Appearing to calm down now, Clyde quit poking at the man, letting his face grow passive once more as he let out a slow breath. But he still glared at him, and was still just as annoyed. But it wasn't so obvious. “What is Magic? And why do you want to learn it?”

[Bartholomew]

“What do you think I am, a petching whore?"

"I-i'm sorry?" Light said questioningly as he was taken aback by that comment. As Clyde finished his sentence he poked Light in the chest with his staff. Light was also surprised by this and back stepped from the staffs reach. Apparently, this one poke was only the beginning of a series of pokes. After each sentence Light felt the small sting of the staff on his chest. With each poke Light's body became weaker to its touch.

"That I'll just give you what you want if you toss me a little coin! What do you see magic as, a commodity to be bought and sold for something as cheap as money? A trade to be taught and learned like carpentry or smithing?” All this the man said. Each sentence ended with a rough poke, each rough poke ended with a back-stepping, suffering Light.

Clyde continued ranting.“Show some respect for Magic! Its not a trade! Does a carpenter risk losing his mind and soul if he doesn't respect his wood? Magic! It's life! It's death! Its something to be feared and respected in equal measures. It is not something to be bought or sold upon a whim.”

Light was now one step away from drowning in the sea. He had to keep himself steady with endurance alone or else, he did not want to think about it.

The birds where singing this day, no doubt enjoying their release from a winters sleep. Some people where staring at both Light and Clyde, but none did a single thing. Wise people they were. Why step in front of an argument that wasn't theirs?

From behind him, Light could hear water splashing against the dock. The fish below shook the lake along with the wind. If he payed close attention he could hear the banging of glass against wood. No doubt a bottle of empty whine from last nights new years festivities.

Clyde began to slowly relent his anger, but this did not stop Light from holding his breath. All this time he had kept a frightened look, and had not noticed. His confident facade now abandoned like a child terrified of his parents. Clyde glared at Light and Light resisted the urge to look away or flinch.

“What is Magic? And why do you want to learn it?” Clyde asked. Light swallowed, frightened look still there, and said, "I can't answer the former question."

Light held his breath out of habit, but forced himself to continue talking. He had to explain himself before the man would get angry again or leave.

"I can't answer because," Light's voice suddenly jumped. Realizing how excited he made himself, he quickly calmed. "B-because I don't know. I know you technically told me, and anyone smart or a smart ass would probably repeat what you said, but I don't know... I am not introduced to magic formally yet to form my own opinion, o-or accept your opinion, or truth." Light cautioned with his last statement, a good show that he did not want to make the man angry even more.

"B-but I can answer your second question."

Light swallowed again and breathed as deep of a breath as he could. He knew how hard his heart was pounding and he did not like it. This man reminded him too much of his father, the small harm, insults and all. It gave him fear, agonizingly shameful fear. If Light was not as brave as he were, he would have run away long ago.

"For most, I would say for the sake of Rhysol. F-for myself... I will say... To protect the city a-and people I love more than my own life..."

[Clyde Sullins]

Finally it seemed they were getting about to something, to some answers, even if it was in a roundabout way. So far the man had shown little spine, had seemed to be a maleable and easily cowed person. In some ways that was good, it meant he'd be easier to control... But in others, it was bad. Bad for a mage. Bad for them to fall under pressure, to give in and do what was easy. If he couldn't even stand up to Clyde's anger, how could he hope to stand up to himself? For he himself would be his greatest foe, his own voice and instincts calling and singing to him to cast, whispering the joys of magic... Things that had to be defended against at all costs. Clyde knew this all too well, had fought on the faint whispers and deep rumbles, the instincts and callings to do just a bit more... To do a spell when it was unneeded, or to keep going when one was almost there. He'd been fighting such things since he was but a small child, and knew it quite well. Knew it when he heard it, and knew he had been found strong and sturdy in its face. But this fellow... If nothing else he was willing to admit to his own lack of knowledge, though that was a small comfort compared to most of what he'd said, or more to the point the many things he had evaded saying. More to the point was his reason for learning magic, something that brought a sigh out of Clyde. Something he'd heard so many times it caused a flare of annoyance to rise in response... In response to its stupidity in the simple notion. "For most, I would say for the sake of Rhysol. F-for myself... I will say... To protect the city a-and people I love more than my own life..." Clyde leaned forward, his words a whisper, as he responded to his reasoning. “That... Is a stupid reason.” Standing back up, Clyde let out a huff of air, and walked back towards his front door, though he did not pass within. Instead he turned back about to face him once there. Though in years the two were not that far distant, in years of experience there was a clear difference between them. Clyde had learned fast and hard, through trials and tribulations that many lesser men had not survived. Their bodies laid as so much detritus throughout Clyde's past. Yet if even one of those bodies did not exist, Clyde would likely not be alive here on this day. He had never killed lightly, and knew himself at a deep level. Only through that deep understanding of himself, of his reactions in the harshest of moments, of his choices when life or death was in his hands, was he able to trust himself with his magic. This boy though... He had not faced these choices, and they were not ones that could be asked and answered in such a setting. Truth to such questions could only be gained when the choice was truly laid before them, and their life was truly on the line. Only then could one know the truth of the choice. “And you still have not answered one of my first questions, why don't you go beg lessons at the institute? Why are you asking lessons of me?” “If all you want to do is protect this city, why do you need magic for that? Why not take up a blade, and protect it with sword and might? Why do you need magic to do that? You don't, and if you think that is why you wish to learn then you are only fooling yourself.” “Magic is a two ended blade, with one end set just above ones soul. Every time you use it, you risk that second blade hacking away at you, at your essence, at your being. But unlike a true blade, there is no pain when this happens, no blood, no announcement that you have lost a bit of yourself, that you have been wounded. In fact, it likely will feel quite nice. You won't even be wounded every time, more often than not you'll likely come out unscathed, and more assured that such a folly could not happen to you. ” “But a day will come when you are cut by it, a small slice, only a bit of change. What could it hurt? But then there will be another, and another, till you've lost count, and till you are no longer the same man you were when you begun. A death of slices, of bits of yourself, that is what a mage faces. Better you give up on magic, and take up a true blade. At least with that, you'll only face a true death, and will know you are yourself on the day you die.” “The problem is, you fool, that you can't know if you are strong enough, strong enough to make the needed choices, to stop when you must, until it is too late. I only know now that I've faced the choices over and over again, faced the choice of my own life and others time and again. And if your goal is to protect everyone, you will soon fail, and find that you can't eve protect yourself.”

[Bartholomew]

A sigh could be heard along with the exhale of breath from Clyde. Light also let out a breath, knowing that he had once again given the wrong answer. Where did he go wrong? What was he doing that gave this man the passion of anger?

“That... Is a stupid reason,” Clyde said, leaning forward to whisper it to Light. For the first time since Light had spoken to Clyde, he had stared into the mans eyes just after an insult. He stared with confusion. He looked at Clyde as though the mage had said something in a foreign language.

Clyde exhaled again, then turned around and walked away as though he had just done an arduous task and was now retiring to his chambers to rest. He shifted his footing to face Light once he made it to his doorway, and stared a Light as though he was still bearing judgement.

However, what more judgement could this man bear? Light already knew from the way the man acted and spoke that he was seen as a simpleton, and nothing more. Light tried to seem otherwise, but how could he possibly change someone like Clyde Sullin's mind? The man probably already had the resolve in him not to accept Light's offer from the moment Light offered his offer.

“And you still have not answered one of my first questions, why don't you go beg lessons at the institute? Why are you asking lessons of me?” Clyde said.

One of your first questions...? Light repeated in his head. He thought back to the beginning of the conversation, the very few questions Clyde had asked him. "You want me to teach you?... Mystics of Magic?... Were you dropped as a child?..." In one beginning sentence he had asked three questions. In the ones to follow he had asked more than Light could keep up with. But the man didn't stop, he had kept talking then dismissed Light with a wave of his finger and a "shoo."

The question of why Light wanted Clyde instead of an institute had been set ablaze, the fire burned dimly, then had been extinguished. And now it was lit again.

Clyde went on another rant, insulting Light and his belief, trying to dissuade him from the thought of using magic. Then the man finished with calling Light a fool and saying that his one reason for doing anything was a waste.

Light bit down on his lip and ran through everything Clyde had said once, twice, then a third just to embed it into his memory. When Clyde was done with his speech, Light figured that it was his time to talk. He only had one chance to persuade Clyde to teach him, one more chance at learning from a top mage. He could not waste this last opportunity.

Light inhaled a deep breath, closed his eyes, and did the only thing he could possibly think of that might give him the chance he needed. He walked towards Clydes steps and knelt before him. One knee hit the wooden ground while the other was held under his foot. He had one fist on the ground and the other on his leg. He kept his head down and his eyes closed.

From his form came a river of djed. It danced in the light of the sun and gathered in a small ball. As quick as it had gathered it had rushed to Clyde and sunk into his pores. When Clyde looked a Light, what Light wanted Clyde to see was something that made him pleasant. Light wanted Clyde to feel calm and happy that the boy was bowing to Clyde, making him feel like he was being respected, even though Clyde may not have wanted respect, he was being given the respect he deserved, wasn't he?

"I am sorry that I did not answer your question," Light said formally. "I come to you because I do not just want to learn magic, I want to be a part of it. I want to know it as much as I know myself. As I have said before, I do not know magic and what magic truly is. And without the proper guidance, I will never know what magic truly is.

"I do not seek just a tutor, someone who gets paid just to give me lessons then tosses me aside when the lessons are over. And I know that I had offered you money, and I will fully admit that the offering was very foolish of me. And I will live with the shame of my foolishness.

"What I am looking for is a master whose marriage with magic is grand, and who knows personally almost everything there is about magic. Yes I can probably learn it from the institute for a little more money, but I feel that... That if I am formally introduced to magic from you, then I will gain more than I could ever dream."

Light looked up to Clyde, his face almost emotionless. He was serious, every word he said was nothing but truth in his own ears.

"Master Clyde," he said. "you ask if all my goal is is to protect the city, then why must I need magic? Well saying such a thing would be like also saying, 'why do you need a blade?' I have taken up a blade, donned the very bastard sword that now rest on my back, but I have also taken up magic.

"And yes..." he hesitated, looking distantly away from Clyde. "Magic is dangerous. When ever I use it I feel that a part of me is taken away. I feel that my soul that was once filled is becoming empty, and it scares me sometimes."

Light gave a sigh and turned his head to stare at Clyde's feet. "Even now..." Light said with a saddened voice. He had felt the extent of his magic usage and had begun to tire. He did not use all his djed, but he had used enough to make himself a little weary.

It was always a side effect of using this magic, Light supposed. To tire from using a little of his power, to not be able to push himself to his limits because he was afraid to overgive; all these reasons made Light frustrated. He needed a magic tutor more than anything, but what he wanted was Clyde. He could be called stubborn for this, foolish and spoiled as well, but Light did not care. It was his resolve to be taught by Clyde. He would not see this day go to waste.

"It is scary, learning magic. I know the risk, I was told them before I even started my training. But that did not deter me, like I am sure it has not deterred you. If everyone stop learning magic because of the bad possibilities, because of what might negatively happen, then where would magic be today but a story in history books?

"And... As for my goal." Light stared at Clyde again. He didn't look emotionless, there was now a hint of sadness to him. However, when he started to speak, his words were nothing more than confident. "I know that I may fail. I know that I might be wasting my life on a hopeless dream. But, I also may become the stepping stone to a fully protected Ravok. And not even you, dear master, with the infinite knowledge you have now, can look into my future and give to me a one hundred percent reading."

"I came to you today because I searched for a magic instructor who could teach me more about magic than just how to wield it. And from the way you speak of it, I know that I have come to the right place. All I need is your willingness to teach me. If you are not willing, then I will leave you. But if you are, then please, please give me a chance."

[Clyde Sullins]

Out of the many things Clyde might have expected, kneeling before him was not one of them. It did not though have the intended effect on Clyde in assuring him of the man's good qualities. Clyde did not want subservience, did not want someone easily cowed. The same things that made one a good servant made one a bad mage, and ill suited for the mental pressures such things brought on. One of Clyde's most valued qualities was his own mental toughness, his ability to endure and hold to his decisions and ways. Such mental toughness had been honed by years of casting, and more importantly the not casting, instances he directly tied to his ability to hold fast and not let his emotions get the better of him. While he let out anger in a huff, it was but a physical thing, and so in his mind did not matter. When it really mattered, life or death, decision making, knowing what to do, he did not let his emotions reign. And perhaps he also thought that by releasing his anger when he did, it made it easier to then not release it in the more critical moments... The subservient nature of the man brought a small bit of contempt to Clyde's mind, in his measure of him. This contempt was met by two other things. One, an emotion, of pleasantness and happiness seemed to subsume his original emotion at the gesture of contempt. That alone might have cued him that something was amiss, at his sudden shifting in regard to the action. The change was not subtle, particularly compared to the actual emotion he'd been feeling. The second was a shiver, a bristling, a grinding of metal on metal or wind over exposed hair, which washed over Clyde's essence in a wave. A feeling Clyde knew all to well. While he wasn't as well known for it, and while the magic wasn't nearly as flashy as his others like Reimancy that could reduce a threat to a pile of ash, his Auristics was another magic he was particularly proud of. Unique amongst Clyde's many magics, it also had a passive bit to it, a vague opening of senses that one gained above the norm simply by being an aurist. By attuning to auras, and learning to read them, one gained the ability to understand and sense certain things naturally. Djed was one of them. And so as the djed of a spell met his essence and injected into it, it let off a sensation that Clyde was aware of. Magic was about, and upon him. Activating the more direct abilities of his auristics, Clyde focused his will through Cha, and reached out to feel his own aura, an extension of awareness that took but a moment. It didn't take long examining the outer layers of his own aura to find the foreign contaminant, foreign djed injected and molded and woven into his essence, the left behind scrapings and signs clear on the outer layer of his aura as bright spots of off color. Where his own aura and djed was the same color as his res, a bright silver hue, this was a off brown, clearly not belonging. Pairing that with his shift of feeling, from that of contempt to pleasantness and happiness, he knew the man was using some magic or another to affect him. Surely it wasn't some other random person about who just so happened to be casting a spell upon him? Keeping his face flat and emotionless for the duration, Clyde extended a second strand of aura sight, latching it on subtly to the man before him, using the time of his response to do his work. More than enough time, seeing as he had a good bit to say. As he washed his aura sight over that of the man, he saw the vagueness of his essence, his aura, which was quickly coming into clarity. Fading from a vague grey neutral appearance, it went into a slow shift into a brownish green hue. Mentally pulling things aside, he thrust inward, feeling for the tell tale residue of magic having been used. Personal magic after all left a sort of residue, a rubbed off bit that transferred to ones aura as they cast magic. Clyde's had quite a bit built up over the years. As he watched he saw it, subtle little bits, old and faded in places, newer and fresher in others... And there... Even fresher... Still warm, metaphorically speaking. But then, everything in aura sight made a metaphorical sense even if not a literal one. Clyde finished his examination soon after the man finished speaking. His own aura reading, his magic, was a subtle thing, not easily detected. He used it stealthily, snaking it inward and peeling things back layer by layer. Unlike the unsubtle magics the man had used on Clyde. But then, it seemed the man was also less skilled at that magic than Clyde was at Auristics, so perhaps it made sense that he'd be able to use it more subtly, with more finesse. Perhaps if he'd been more skilled at it, the magics use would have also escaped his awareness. Coming to a decision, Clyde's mood switched once more, from the placid face he'd kept as the man spoke, to one once more of anger. But where before the anger he'd exhibited had been a small flame, a warmth, this was a burning fire of anger, with heat enough to melt through bones. “Don't think you understand me you whelp, or the reasons I do what I do or am what I am. You don't know what made me who I am. So don't pretend to.” While he still felt a calling of the forced feeling, of understand and happiness and pleasantness, he now washed it away, or willed it too, by forcing a new emotion to the forefront, wishing to blunt and destroy any effects the magic might have had on him. “You speak of respect, of respecting magic, of respecting me. What utter shyke. You don't respect me. How dare you try to control me, how dare you use magic on me!” Clyde's rage still rising, rising at the afrontary, at the man having used magic on him, he felt his contempt at the sad man before him rise once more. “Get out, get out now, before I do you in turn! I trust nothing you've said, now leave my place and do not return.” Clyde did not explain. Did not say how he knew of the magic cast upon him. Did not say anymore. He was done, and it was clear from his mood that his anger was only growing, not fading.