Bring Out Your Dead! (Open)

[Isikais]

Isikais offered no resistance as the man took his hand to examine it. It was unusual for him, the sensation of touching a living person, the warmth of body heat, the rhythm of the pulse pushing blood through veins and arteries just beneath the surface. Isikais used the moment to experience something new just as Hadrian did. When the man let go of his hand, Isikais resisted the urge to continue grasping the young mans hand. It was that feeling, that constant motion the living possessed that Isikais lacked in his morphing. Breath, pulse, muscle movement, all of it occurring without the slightest effort on their part. He pondered in that moment if Hadrian could see his curiosity, and realized only then that he had stopped breathing, and was staring silently at his hands. "You need no pardon. You must be tired Hadrian. I do not mean to keep you from your rest, but you still have not told me where you have learned your craft. Have you taught yourself the ways of manipulating Djed?" Isikais lifted his gaze to meet Hadrians eyes and slipped again into staring, innately trying to match the speed and frequency with which the young man blinked, and breathed.

[Hadrian]

"Oh, I fell asleep on my homework and had a nap, so I won't fall over any time soon," he assured the man. Hadrian saw the curiosity, but could only guess at its precise direction. Shifting his satchel full of books and papers higher onto his slender shoulder, an unconscious mirror of the way he had found Isikais clutching his own luggage, he thought about the question and the answer. "I came here to learn. I fell into magic, really, but it quickly became the major focus of my studies. I'm not one of those people who is born with a gift running rampant. I'm better at the world magics that you have to really learn, but auristics... they're a powerful tool, so I'm working on it. I figured it was a wise choice to learn a little bit of everything while here. Most branches of magic are represented in the College of Magic."

[Isikais]

Isikais watched as Hadrian's posture came to resemble his. The young man was subconsciously skilled in the art of the chameleon. Without as much of a thought he had engaged in behavior that it had taken Isikais decades to learn. The prospect of learning from this human became increasingly appealing. The variety of expressions, the multitude of poses, Isikais began to wonder how long it would take to learn Hadrian well enough to mimic him completely. "Very well. I would like to attend your...'School of Magic.' How does one go about joining? Additionally, as I have only arrived just tonight I am without lodging. If you have any additional space in your lodging, I would appreciate the opportunity to pay you for use." Unaware of the social implications of such a request, Isikais saw only the potential gain of regular access to such an intriguing specimen. Isikais produced a large pouch from his bag. "Would 150 Gold Mizas suffice for the remainder of the season?" Isikais began to count out the currency as if the transaction had already been agreed to.

[Hadrian]

"Ah," he began, looking around. Zeltiva's guards kept the place relatively safe, but it was a city and there were blackguards even near the university. The university itself was quite safe. There were too many important people and things there to risk crime. "Well, you would sign up for classes with the Registrar. I could introduce you in the morning. And, uh... here, I can show you several inns nearby. I mean, well..." Discombobulated by the series of events and all, he tried to figure out how to proceed. The man seemed to be a Nuit if his body temperature was any gauge, and he had an old Eypharian name. But while Hadrian had read plenty of books and taken plenty of classes, he had never been to Sahova and the last time he was in Ahnatep, he had been a child. "My home is small, you see. If you really want to stay, you can stay the night. But the best I can offer is a makeshift pallet of extra blankets. You'd have more room, comfort, and privacy in an inn." It seemed callous to turn down a request for hospitality, and Isikais wanted to pay for it, but the offer seemed strange, even coming from a foreigner.

[Isikais]

Isikais took note of the young man's confusion and the uncomfortable awkwardness that dripped from his reticent offer of hospitality. His eyes wandered across Hadrians features as flesh flashed the ever so slight rubicund hint of embarrassment. Educational though it may have been, the old Nuit did not wish to frighten off his subject so quickly with his anticipation. Isikais bowed his head slightly, and replied apologetically. "I am sorry if I have overstepped my bounds. I am still learning your ways. I had thought that in the city of Zeltiva it was always just a matter of finding the right price." Isikais lifted his head and looked Hadrian in the eyes. "I am a quiet and unobtrusive house guest. I do not require a bed and I have no need of your food. As for privacy, I would only require as much privacy as your modesty requires." Isikais pointed to his bag with a thumb over his shoulder. "These are all my worldly possessions, so I require little space." He placed a reassuring hand on Hadrian's shoulder, the social barrier of touch between the two having been broken earlier by the young man. "What do you say we try out the arrangement this evening, and after registering tomorrow you can determine if it will last the season, or if I should find other accommodations?" Isikais smiled again, that friendly inviting smile that he had worked so hard to learn.

[Hadrian]

"You don't sleep?" he asked, already starting to move in the direction of his home, one of the many cottages huddled close to the Old Quarter as if kittens feeding at the teats of a bored old cat. Hadrian didn't shrug off the hand, though he had to school his atavistic reaction to the too cool flesh. A body had natural reactions, and humanity, for the most part, abhorred death, paying only fearful respect to sure Dira. The walk wasn't far, and soon Hadrian was unlocking his door and allowing the stranger in. Apparently he hadn't burned his hands on magefire often enough to have learned his lesson completely. "I apologize for the mess," he said, lighting the lamp to reveal what amounted to a hearth, bunk, chest, two chairs, and small table. There were also a few bookshelves, overflowing with books and papers and scrolls. The walls were papered in maps and diagrams, revealing his main calling as that of a magecrafter, an artisan of magical things. "I'll just clear off the table and chairs for you..." All the scholarly debris removed from the table and chairs was transferred immediately to the bed for further redistributing. "Make yourself at home," he invited.

[Isikais]

Isikais followed Hadrian's steps, allowing his hand to return to it's usual position gripping the strap of his bag as they walked. He had passed this way earlier in the evening and wondered at the sort of people who might have lived in these huddled buildings. The cottages stood around the Old Quarter, modern huts constructed around the more grand structures of an era long gone. Isikais thoughts wandered in that moment to his homeland, and he wondered if the great cities of the Eyktol had suffered a similar fate. Zeltiva looked nothing like it did before the Valterrian. All of Mizahar, he imagined, must be ruins like these, shadows of things of the past. As the two arrived in the cottage, Isikais was struck by how much space Hadrian actually owned. On Sahova, the Nuit occupied very little personal space. With no need for beds or storage for food or much clothing, the Undead were nothing if not efficient with space. He looked over as Hadrian began to move the items from one place to another. "Really that's not nece..." But Hadrian had already made the effort, and Isikais wouldn't be ungrateful. "Thank you." With little hesitation Isikais placed his bag in a corner, out of the way of the clutter. As he returned to sit at the table he allowed himself a moment to curiously trace the many designs that plastered the walls. His eyes rolled over the books in the shelves like a child in a toy store. "Anthropology and Magecraft. A curious mixture, but quite telling. You are an inquisitive one." Isikais looked at Hadrian as he sat. "No, to asnwer your question, I don't sleep. As I am sure you've gathered, young mage, I am a Nuit, a fact I would rather keep between us if you don't mind." Isikais raised an eyebrow insistently. "I am sure you can keep my secret for now." Patient hands removed his jacket while still seated revealing his fitted button down shirt and vest. He hung the garment from the back of the chair and locked eyes with Hadrian, as if demanding the redundancy of an answer to his rhetorical question.

[Hadrian]

"All right," he said, giving Isikais a curious look before tucking the Corpus Hermeticum on top of a row of books on a shelf. "But if you're going to spend time at the university, you should know that you'll be surrounded by inquisitive people." Giving up on the hurried reorganization of his life, he walked toward the kitchen to prepare some tea. "I take it you don't ingest food or drink, either." He was going to need a little stimulant to keep awake. Likely he would anyway with a--not live, but animate--specimen of the Sahovan undead in his home, but a little help wouldn't hurt. Part of him didn't want to sleep for fear of some sort of foul play. Another part thought it rude to sleep while a guest did not. The rest of him was mostly inquisitive as Isikais had rightly named him.

[Isikais]

"I do not eat or drink, no." Isikais realized suddenly how much of the mortal experience of hospitality surrounded catering to what he viewed as weakness. Therein lay the bonds that formed in human societies, feeding each other, offering comfort and rest when exhaustion threatened to overtake them. It had seemed odd to him the speed with which Hadrian was willing to trust him, the Nuit of Sahova being eternally distrustful creatures. "But I do bathe. If that is a possibility." Isikais added allowing the hint of a grin to raise the left side of his mouth. "I fear I will smell of the sea for days, and allowing that sort of smell to seep into a body like mine...well, suffice it to say, I might never be rid of it." Isikais watched Hadrian dash about the room tending to his business. "I hope you don't believe you must entertain me the entire evening, young...Hadrian. I would be loathe to have your professors believe I am a bad influence on you before I am even allowed to study with them." He folded his fingers together, resting his elbows on his knees, and continued to focus on breathing and blinking. It was a matter of kindness in his mind, to continue the charade. Humans always seemed to get uncomfortable when those minor ticks of mortality ceased. So for the sake of his host he tried his best to imitate the few humans he had met in the last several hundred years. Even his posture was an effort in acting the part of the living. "If I have judged you rightly, though, you will not be able to sleep until you have been given a chance to question me thoroughly, so go to it. We can consider it payment for the few I've asked you already...and your hospitality, of course."

[Hadrian]

"A bath," he agreed, going to pull the small copper tub out of the pantry. "Oh, do you prefer hot or cold water?" One of the perks to these cottages was the indoor water pumps, which meant not having to go out during a bonesnapper, though use of the outhouse did. If the Nuit was indifferent to the temperature of the water, he could pump directly into the tub without having to boil it over the fire, which would be one less thing. It occurred to him that he would have to ask, preferably later, whether whatever process of necromancy animated a Nuit would prevent the spread of sickness. Hadrian had no desire to contract some flesh-eating disease... "Oh, and I can put up the laundry line so you can have some privacy..." That faltered as he recalled what Isikais had said about Sahovan modesty, which wasn't much, but hinted that they had little of it. The which Hadrian could understand intellectually, but he was a child of his culture and would have to make an effort to accept in his everyday life.