Of Plague and Sight (the sequel)

[Thomas Cosa]

7th of WInter, 512 AV
Mid Morning
The Great Library

"Stupid shyke-bots!" Thomas hissed at one of the Catalog golems, throwing a punch only to have the wheeled golem dodge. It was stupid. Everything about the damn golem was stupid. It's creator, it's programming, it's design -- stupid, stupid, stupid.

He continued to glare at the demon spawn as he made his down the vast isles of the Library, catching the titles of every other book, hoping to find something about Gadgeteering. Thomas had been designing golems since arriving, and now that he would have the opportunity to animate one, he would need to know how to build them.

In Mura, his mentor had him animating things; doors, clothes, mops, and brooms. Simple household items. Here, he had seen apprentices animates grand war golems, vicious dog machines, and even golems that would have passed as human by appearance alone -- he would have to learn how to build them first, however.

Grabbing a book on the basics of gadgeteering, "Tools and how to use them," Thomas started out of the library, only to catch a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye.

"Wrenmae?"

[Wrenmae]

Sahova had been harsh on him.

Not so harsh as HE had been on Sahova itself, but he'd lost at least a bit of his usual luster. A lack of food owed itself to his discomfort, and he hadn't the presence of self to seek out other pulsers and manipulate their food to his own possession. The nuit kept the mortals studying and testing, and Wrenmae was no exception. He'd read up on Alchemy theory while here, having access to a well stocked lab there was no excuse not to study the art of creation and combination. While he could not boast the ability of Rayage, he certainly at least still lived in his good faith.

Back in the library, running a callused thumb over the spines of ponderous tomes, Wrenmae searched for answers to things he had not known before. There were mysteries here, secrets left to reveal. Here, in this refuge of literature, he found himself almost wistful, remembering libraries like this in Zeltiva, Alvadas...even Sunberth had books stashed in odd places.

So long as mankind existed, it would always record itself.

His name interrupted him from searching, bringing his gaze up to Thomas across a row of books.

"Well, Mr. Cosa," Wrenmae said with a tired smile, "What brings you out of the lab?"

[Thomas Cosa]

"The Library," he answered plainly, nodding towards his slowly growing pile of books, "Despite being surrounded by masters, and greater gadgeteers than I, you'd be surprised how little I actually learn in the Lab," Thomas sighed, making his way around the thick book aisles, "Aside from my own practices, but you can only learn so much from your own mistakes," he shurgged, still holding Tools and How to Use Them. "Though I shouldn't complain, at least they're allowing me the time to animate," he added, bitterly.

"Not that it matters much, I spent the most of the past season fighting some kind of flu," he muttered, his tone annoyed. "Anytime I had to myself, I rested, and apparently it's still around, whatever it is," he continued, "It's taken out quite a few pulsers and there a rumor going around that it's another experiment gone rogue. Unfortunately, it hasn't effected the Nuit as far as I can tell, although, not sure I would know if it had, considering they switch bodies every time something happens," he added, and to the observant, a hint of jealousy could be heard in the last words.

Not that Thomas would admit it. The young mage hated the Nuit, but he would be lying if he pretended not to notice certain advantages to their lifestyle.

"And you? I'd be lying if I were to say you looked well," Thomas said bluntly, "but I hope you've been spared any illness, considering everything else we deal with on this island," he said.

"Oh, and you never did ask for that animation lesson I owe you. I don't suppose you found another teacher," he asked, knowing quiet well Wrenmae hadn't found another. At least, it was highly unlikely, but then again, considering the Wrenmae's connection with Rayage, for all Thomas knew, he was getting private lessons from Mashean.

[Wrenmae]

Wren smiled at Thomas, already remembered their long conversation from before...the talk of Uldr, the stories, the fighting. Replacing the book he had pulled out on alchemy back on the shelf, he motioned for the mage to follow him to a table where he took a seat across from the fellow. Since their time together, much had happened...and yet much without much at all. Rayage still tinkered with his alchemy and notes. He'd taken to talking entirely in the old tongue in the lab, a language Wrenmae struggled to learn as well as he could. Still, half the things the nuit muttered was as useful as gibberish to him.

"I have been fairing about as well as could be expected," the mage answered Thomas with a shrug, choosing a title of Animation specifially for the tiny gold lettered 'Beginner's Guide' scrawled down its spine. "They pay me nothing, feed me little, and I am expected to work as hard as them...with or without sleep. I'm sure you've faced similar conditions?"

He flashed the young man a rueful grin and shook his head.

"I've not yet found another morphing instructor. I've been working on Alchemy with Rayage these past days...regrettably, the old nuit has gotten on my nerves of late. He insists on keeping information to himself...speaking in the Old Tongue...my knowledge is not so great as to translate it all, so perhaps it is best if I turn my mind to other pursuits...say..."

He indicated the table across the way from them, "Animation lessons?"

[Thomas Cosa]

"Of course," Thomas nodded, "But I suppose you understand where I was coming from before, considering you have spent more time with the, uh, Nuit?" he asked, forcing himself to name the undead residents of the Sahova, instead of using the more cloroful choices in his vocabulary. While he did remember his lesson with Wrenmae fondly, Thomas couldn't forget how much the hypnotist sympathized with them.

But now, at least Thomas hoped, they would share the same resentment regarding the undead masters of Sahova. Perhaps now that they shared the same mistreatment, Wrenmae would see the Nuit as Thomas did; selfish and cruel, but useful, at least as a living library if nothing else.

Thomas smiled, nodding, "Yes, but first, how much do you know of Animation?"

OOCSorry for the short post -- so I figure if Wrenmae actually wants to do animation, we could always go down to Lab15 (but I think we're still doing the thing we're they end up outside of Sahova, right?) or if Wrenmae has anything smallish, or maybe like a scarf or something, they could do a simple animation on the table.

[Wrenmae]

The hypnotist shrugged at the question, taking a seat at an empty table and tapping the top of it near the next seat, inviting Thomas to partake. Both men were weary, exhausted, it only made sense to take a break from the hazard of Sahova for a moment or two. Wren had almost forgotten the mage in truth...untold days of plodding around, doing Rayage's work had not lent itself well to his own track of time. Everything seemed to be...and only be.

"The nuit are the nuit and they have forgotten how to be alive. It is no more than forgetting how to treat us...and perhaps that they see themselves as above us. Personally, for creatures so reliant on our skin to survive, you'd think they'd work with more care...but I suppose so long as there is a Sunberth, there will always be bodies for the nuit to have."

He remembered the harbor with Orinei and the stacked boxes of moldering corpses.

A shiver coursed down his spine, but he resisted the urge to flinch.

"I know precious little of Animation, Thomas," he said at last, "Save for what I could observe of it...moving machines, dead pigeons...I've been party to some strange uses of magic...but not so much as to ruin my appetite for it."

He indicated the table, "Certainly there is enough around us for an initiation...if not, perhaps we can find an empty lab nearby?"

[Thomas Cosa]

"They would be wise to treat perspective bodies with more respect," Thomas replied, his tone cold, smile wavering slightly. Perhaps too obvious in his disappointment with Wrenmae's answer, Thomas was perhaps even more determined not to force the issue.

The hypnotist was in Sahova now, and catered to the whims of a master. It wouldn't be long before Wrenmae's opinion of the Nuit turned sour, at least, so Thomas assumed.

"Depending on what you were hoping to animate," Thomas shrugged, pulling out a some paper and ink and quill, "Lab 15 is available, but there are...certain limitations to what we could animate there. Another lab would be preferable, especially if we could find another animator's," Thomas paused, thinking, "Of course, we would have to worry when they returned. The library would be an option, as well."

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae raised an eyebrow, noting the sour tone of dissappointment in Thomas' voice. It would help to remember that the man seemed to softly despise the nuits, and perhaps not even so softly. His path had led him to Sahova, to the very den of the beasts, and how long he stayed would be up to how long he could tolerate them...or how long till he joined them.

"Stealing another lab could have some significant ramifications," Wrenmae admitted with a frown, "For the sake of first lessons, I wouldn't want to animate anything of significant complexity...I still have to consider how to use my djed, how to make them move, those sorts of things." He smoothed the table they were on, noting it was free of splinters or rough edges...no doubt sanded and finished by a dozen pulsers before him, and perhaps a dozen after him.

Maybe they would carve new tables of the bones.

He wouldn't put it past them.

"Let's start with something simple, something you know how to do very well. I need to learn and I won't pretend to be a genius and start out at the top." He cleared the books from the table and took a seat. "If you think the library will work, then let's begin. I have a brief reprieve from Rayage and I'd like to make use of that time learning a skill of more worth behind these walls."

He sat back, crossing his arms, "Personal magic's purpose and value fluctuates rather wildly."

[Thomas Cosa]

"The same could be said of any magic, really," Thomas countered, grabbing some parchment and ink off a nearby shelf. Unfinished sketches, broken quills, and other forgotten things littered the nooks and crannies of the ancient library; ignored by both golem and pulser alike. Usually, Thomas did the same, every now and then though, the young pulser managing to find some use to the wasted treasures around him.

"World magic is just as untrusted as the personal kind, most of the world unable to differentiate the two schools," he scoffed, gladly forgetting that not so long ago, he himself would be counted among the ignorant. A cracked quill offered itself an OK writing tool, the ink clotting and collecting in the paper thin cracks, sometimes dripping messily over the parchment. The mess bothered the animator to some degree, but Thomas knew that unless he dragged Wrenmae to the lab, he had to make due with the limited resources of the library. "Animation probably more so than most; for whatever reason, most people would rather trust a wagon to a slave or a horse, rather than make the wagon pull itself. It's a wonder really, how we've managed to survive so long with that type of thinking," Thomas sighed, drawing to small circles opposite each other, a small line connecting the two.

"Before you begin to animate, or before we even discuss what and where you'll animate" Thomas began, holding the drawing as to show Wrenmae the ugly sketch, "I need to understand how much, or how little you know of the actual process. Do you know what this is? Do you know what a soulcore is? A source? What do you know about animation?," He asked, not entirely sure Wrenmae even knew any world magic. The mage had demonstrated himself a hypnotist easily enough, but did he know anything else?

[Wrenmae]

Wren nodded along with Thomas, watching his preparation closely. It was comforting to be around another person with a heartbeat. It had become unbearably silent with Rayage sometimes, the old nuit working with such serene grace that if Wrenmae turned and closed his eyes, he could swear the nuit was never there at all.

The living had an aura, a pulse...nothing like Auristics, more like a buzzing reciprocal exchange of the living experience, heartbeat for heartbeat.

"From my understanding," Wrenmae ventured when Thomas had finished speaking, "In times of old, before the cataclysm, there was much more trust and reliance in magic. But after the destruction, the discipline to keep most mages in check was lost. Now most are self taught, or rather taught incompletely. We rediscover the edges of magic that were once established fact in Alahea of old."

He shrugged and took the paper from Thomas, looking it over. The circle motif was already familiar to him, as with most magic...the continuity of the circle...barrier, route for energy, or catalyst was established. It made sense, really, all world magic connected by a simple shape.

Ashes to ashes, shapes to shape, and they all were part of something greater.

"Explain it to me like you would to a complete novice," Wren told Thomas with a rueful smile, "I know you can make items dance and do their own work, but the inner workings are not something that I ever knew well."