Did You Cut Your Hair?

[Thomas Cosa]

28th of Winter, 515 AV

Thomas had once been a wizard. He was capable of creating something so life-like it mirrored Kihala's own gifts. His own automata continued on, working for the walking corpses of Sahova, even while he was forced outside the Citadel's gates. He'd learned the game of wizard's politics, earned a spot underneath Mashaen himself, and still managed to lose everything.

And now he was playing the fortune teller.

Paranoia, a lifelong souvenir from Sahova, encouraged him to keep his left hand carrying gnosis covered at all times. His new profession however, demanded he show it. So with his left hand bear, his ratty glove carried in his back pocket, Thomas shouted.

"Fortunes, seer-favors and advice," he waved the back of his hand proudly, the black purple seer's lily catching whatever light it could hold, a shadow of glimmer. "Blessed of Avalis, I am. Want to see what the future hold's?."

He hoped he wouldn't be stuck down for blasphemy.

[Celeste Arumen]

Continued from Birds of Prey, earlier that morning...

It'd been a trying day so far. After watching those boys kill the owl, Chroma found his mood soured. It was so wasteful, so needless. While it wasn't hard to relate to their typical lack of sensitivity, it bothered him all the same. Living in Sahova and working in the Testing Grounds had really allowed him to give life and death the gravity it deserved. Thus, it saddened him to think on how people trivialized death, given how little they'd seen of it.

But still. Didn't it make sense? The less they knew, the less they cared.

These thoughts scattered around the boy's mind in a tempest as he left the Meadows. In reverence to the fallen creature, his untidy hair was shot through with silver and in certain places, freckled with flecks of earth. In lieu of their usual jewel tones, his eyes were gilded lanterns. Even his tunic and hose were made to match, all pearl grey and golden filigree. If there was anything he were good at, it was coming up with a good presentation.

But that didn't solve his more immediate problems. As in, how he managed to fall asleep and wake up two years later, on the other side of the Suvan Sea. Ordinary problems were clearly overrated, he mused with a wry grin. Especially given that he was actually a she, though with every passing that day he stayed in Kalinor, he found himself identifying more and more with this alter-ego.

The name 'Avalis' cut through his reverie as he entered the Aconitum. Opalgloams radiated dimly against the oppressive darkness. As Chroma glanced up, his avian eyes widened. He knew that voice was familiar! In disbelief, he stood watching as the young animator waved his gnosis in the air.

"Thomas Cosa?" He asked aloud. Was this really the same boy he'd met in the library years prior? There was something incredibly eerie about being thrust into the future. It was almost as if he were witness to some twisted morality tale, something about pride before the fall.

"What on Mizahar are you doing here?" He asked, lowering his voice as he drew closer.

[Thomas Cosa]

Hearing his name caused Thomas to stumble, the animator catching himself on a bench. He'd hardly expected to run into anything beside a Symnestra in the Aconitum, and even less had he thought to run into a human boy who apparently knew him by name.

Stirred by curiosity, Thomas cast his auristics off into the human's aura. His magic proved to be exceedingly useful; the dull glow of opalgloams may be very well for the spidery residents of the cavern, but the stones proved next to useless to human eyes. Where his eyes failed him, his magic kept him from falling into the empty abyss that surrounded the city.

With a breath, the wizard dived into the memorizing shock of muted colors. He'd come to understand when one of his senses was somehow disadvantage, the corresponding enhanced sense was also impaired to the same degree, more or less. Opalgloams' light allowed for some discrimination between aural colors, but it wasn't the same vibrant bouquet he'd known under Syna's grace. Thomas had been annoyed to discover this particular quirk, but he'd been quick to adapt, as he'd always had.

The physicality of the body was human, but he'd known that before; spiders, for all their otherness, were detestably graceful. Humans weren't. He felt the wider shoulders, the flat chest -- there was a definite masculinity to the body, and the tone of the voice described a young man, but there was something interestingly feminine about the aura and...

"Magic," he realized, tight curl of electricity running around the examined aura, the hint of brisk cold, the outdoorsy smell of pine and wet earth. Whoever he was -- if he was even a he -- had just arrived from the outside. There was something very coppery about the aura, Thomas decided, a sour metallic smell very similar to blood. Before he could fully digest that thought, another crept up on him, smashing anything he'd been thinking with the overwhelmingly realization that he knew this aura.

"Celeste Arumen." It had been her magic that'd done it, really. A constant maelstrom of change, indecisive as to shape or form. He knew it for a shocking neon purple, but in the dim lights of the cavern, Celeste's aura colored itself a polluted magenta. "You've changed. Although, for a changeling that's hardly surprising," Thomas paused, a suspicious thought settling before the wizard pulled it away at the roots. He would be in charge of his paranoia, and they were in far too much of a public place for the initiate to do any damage to him, had Sahova sent her. Someone, he presumed, would stop her.

"I'm reading fortunes, obviously," He laughed, as if they'd just shared a joke, but that noise was far too sharp and pointed to be genuine. "Care to have yours done? I'm really very good," Thomas lied. Fortunes were easy enough to fake, people were believed him easily enough given his gnosis mark. He wondered if Celeste was the gullible type?

[Celeste Arumen]

Chroma's eyebrows lifted slightly. The fact he was able to identify him so easily was unsettling, Feeling disarmed, he took a few steps further toward Thomas in order to close the distance between them. His eyes were hard.

"Keep your voice down, if you please." He whispered sharply, glancing about to see if they'd drawn any attention. The guards eyed them with a passing interest but nothing more. When he returned to looking at the man, his eyes fell upon the exposed gnosis of Avalis - assuming that was the origin of the mark. Though Thomas had intimated that the goddess was his chosen deity, she'd not known he'd actually been marked by her.

His reply about reading fortunes, punctuated by forced laughter gave him the distinct impression of a man held hostage. Chroma scanned the room again to see if there were anyone watching the two of them closely, maybe using Thomas as bait. The possibility existed. What were the odds of two human citizens of Sahova running into one clear across the ocean? Was it possible that two years had gone by and he was wanted for judgement back on the island? His imagination ran wild.

"Think I'll pass," he replied darkly. "I'm not in the mood for games." He felt his own temper rising, though whether it was the effects of adolescence or the circumstances of his current biology, it was hard to say. But there was a small voice in his head that reminded him to be optimistic. There was a chance they were brought together for some other, less insidious purpose. It was a slim chance as the timing was altogether curious, but Chroma reminded himself that after his disappearance, he was likely just assumed dead. Who would even bother to go looking for him?

Still. It didn't hurt to remain cautious.

"Sorry," he said quietly, features softening. "Maybe some other time. But for now, honestly. What are you doing here and not in Sahova?" He looked unassumingly up at the man. Thomas looked slightly worse for wear. There were dark circles under his eyes. He was more flushed, thinner. Which was saying something considering that even in Sahova, there was scarcely anything to eat.

"Did someone kidnap you?" He asked earnestly.

[Thomas Cosa]

Thomas brow furrowed at her (his?) request. Why should he lower his voice? The sharp, familiar nettle of paranoia bounced off her aura, sharp pinpricks of savory smoke alerting him to the changeling's suspicion. He knew these things by their colors, a crude dim yellow and a dank orange, however, under the dim light of the opalgloams they weren't anything he could see in Celeste's already muddled aura.

"I don't remember asking if you wanted to play." He observed carefully, his magic separating, sharpening into needles as he stabbed carefully into the examined aura. Whatever the reason, his magic was impeded to his physical ability to sense; Thomas adapted his magic the situation, learning quickly the farther he pressed into the aura, the easier he could grab at the smells and textures. "And it's my job. I read fortunes to pay for my life here, it's hardly entertaining. You'd be surprised how many people here are just dying to hear about their unborn brats," anyone around could practically hear his eyes rolling in his head. Love was surprisingly not a subject of interest, he'd noticed. It was always family this, family that, blah, blah, blah.

Her rage was something he could be interested in, though.

It boiled, unsettling near her core, flecks of heat drifting towards the aura's surface at increasing speeds. Thomas yet hadn't cracked intention, or even deciding what emotions were directed were, but considering they were the only two involved in the conversation, the animator had to assume she was angry with him. Or at him being here. Or that he was reading fortunes? His magic could tell him a great many things, but he still couldn't read minds. Yet, anyway.

"No, I wasn't kidnapped. Were you?" Thomas thought it was a strange question, he wasn't really known to anyone outside of the CItadel. Not that Celeste needed to know that. "I left the Citadel because I prefer being human. The masters thought my humanity was preventing me from being as productive as they would like, so they offered me a choice: daek-nuit or leave. So I left," Thomas shrugged, his magic dulling as he fought against the well of emotions he'd struggled to keep deep down -- talking about Sahova didn't help.

"Why did you leave? I stayed for a while after our meeting -- I thought I would have run into you again before I was forced to leave." He paused, considering another questions, "Also -- what am I suppose to call you now? Not Celeste, I'm guessing."