Djed-Djunn Canoch (Alses)

[Annalisa Marin]

20th of Spring, 514 AV

It was a grand place of knowledge really, a room devoted to works long since forgotten by the minds of most. The musty smell of ancient tomes filled the air, the occasional rusty squeal of golem wheels not maintained breaking the silence. The room was lined with shelf upon shelf of arcane knowledge, each line within the pages devoted to lines of Nader-Canoch that each told a story. Desks were arranged here or there, but currently the only person, living or unliving that sat at one of the desks was a human woman.

She was tall most certainly, her long dark hair bound on either side of her head in loose pigtails. Her face held an unremarkable quality about it, common and plain in almost every since of the word as her grey eyes scanned over the open pages of the book before her. Black silk robes trimmed in purple wrapped around her body, a purple sash crossing her shoulder to bind it. Her feet had slipped out from their black dress slipper and her toes idly played with them, picking them up occasionally and allowing them to swing slightly like a pendulum.

The most noticeable thing was probably the silver ring wrapped around her right ring finger, its sigil that of a burning scroll and encrusted with rubies. None outside of Sahova would probably know of its significance, though within its halls it marked her as a Wizard of the Citadel. It meant that she possessed real power on Sahova, influence of her own and the ability to further the Citadel's progress through her research. Few Pulsers could claim that rank, few Nuit could either. Even still there was equal parts disgust and pride that shone in her eyes as they fell upon it briefly.

Currently the tall woman was engrossed in the volume before her, however unlike the manifold tomes written by the hands of those before the Valterrian this one possessed Common lettering. That was probably due to the fact that it was her own work, something she was working upon. Her brush sat next to an inkwell, and currently her hands made no move to claim it as she gazed over her own work. It was her masterpiece as far as she was concerned, her little contribution to Sahova and its ways. A dissection on the interconnectivity of magic and how Glyphing was the way of uncovering the nature of that interconnectivity.

It had been a long running theory of hers, however she just hadn't possessed the time to be bothered to put ink to parchment. Writing a work like hers was notoriously difficult, you needed to find the right words to translate exactly what you knew to terms others could understand. Anna knew things, she felt them, and understood them however making them into wording was another thing entirely. A misplaced word could cause confusion after all.

She read over a certain line near the end of this part of the section, going over its wording in her head several times. It wasn't the grammar that bothered her over much, nor the penmanship but rather whether or not someone could get a clear picture if they read this. Anna liked to think that the answer was yes, however even her arrogance still allowed for a modicum of caution. Other people were not as intelligent as she was, they couldn't immediately understand the finer points of magic just because she outlined them neatly here.

Glyphing's utility is often squandered as being a mere supplement to other disciplines of the arcana. I would however put forward that the capabilities of Glyphing far outstrip those of any other discipline. Magic itself is a language, each different discipline is a dialect of that language. Glyphing could then be said to be the codex for understanding this language, the means to erode the borders of the dialects and make the language more clear.

It seemed rather clear to the sorceress' eyes, down to every last letter however she had to wonder if the metaphors would be understood easily. Magic theory was often a hanging point for many a wizard, most not wishing to look beyond what their abilities could do. Knowing how something worked though made one that much closer to understanding it. Though understanding one could then begin to expand their horizons beyond the known limits. Being a former professor of course, Anna was a little bias in that regard.

The tall woman stretched slightly in her seat, not exactly remembering how long she had been sitting there in one place. Her arms reached skyward with her fingers stretching widely before grasping into fists, her legs move outwards with her toes pointing ahead of her. Slight popping noises could be heard as she gave her body some much needed use after sitting in one place for so long, no matter how small that use was. With a slight sigh the tall woman went back to her proof reading.

[Alses]

The delicate scent of old books, old knowledge, surrounded her, welcomed her like an old friend, as she walked. Stone corridors lined with countless tomes of magic and mastery didn’t faze her, boon companions as they were, even if this one tasted of death and had flowers of rot sparkling at the edges of her sight. As she walked on, unhurried, with no real purpose or destination burning in her mind, the environment began to change, all unnoticed and unremarked.

Subtle, at first, a ripple that quickly faded into the dark, they quickly mounded up as Alses progressed, unconcerned, through the whispering halls, her unconscious mind making itself more comfortable. It was only right and fitting, she thought dimly, only half-aware, that the world should rearrange itself to suit her preferences.

It played to her evergreen pride, whether she admitted it or not.

The quality of the light, dim and diffuse as it was, quickly began to alter and shift – all along the apparently endless corridor, bookshelves faded into insubstantiality as the absolute certainty that there would be sunlight impressed itself on the dreamscape. Stone shrank and thinned under the pressure of Alses’ existence, then turned transparent even as fine spiderwebs of lead crept over the new-formed glass, tall mullions writing themselves into existence between the bookshelves.

In a few short ticks – or possibly chimes – dark mahogany and brass gleamed in the abundant light, the gilt lettering of the overstuffed bookshelves shining brightly and the first suggestions of rainbowed skyglass intruding, subtly, on the libraryscape.

Overhead, too, at regular intervals, the once-louring roof now opened out into domes and skylights, gazing up at a brilliantly luminous sky in which both the sun and stars blazed – a memory dredged up from the pre-Valterrian depths of her composite soul, doubtless, and spun out in an unconscious yearning for what once was.

Without any jolting, jarring change, a fluid transition barely noticeable, in point of fact, a heavy wooden door that punctuated the otherwise-endless corridor morphed itself into a delicate golden gate and swung open with barely a sigh as Alses approached, revealing that the hallway suddenly opened into a wider space, a reading room of some sort, festooned with desks and lamps and intricate metal contraptions, all wheels and rails and reaching arms.

The rippling changes surged past Alses as she stood in the threshold, drinking in the sight before her, but even as windows began to shimmer into bright existence and the arcing roof overhead glimmered towards transparency, spilling down the commingled light of the sun and stars, there was…resistance.

Something fought back; the changes rippled to a standstill in a matter of ticks, half the room bright with sunlight and shimmering with the faint beginnings of warmly prismatic skyglass, familiar and comforting to Alses, whilst the other half remained relatively darkened and cold – at least to her senses. Even the broad blocks of light falling through the new windows failed to much penetrate the dimness beyond the dividing line, being swallowed up without a trace of external artifice.

There was someone waiting. No – not waiting. Using the reading room for its intended purpose, a solitary spot of light some way into the relative dimness, head propped on one pensive arm and gazing at some text in front of her. Alses’ sharp eyes saw clearly and drank in the sight of the brush and inkwell – a scholar, working on a treatise, then, or else compiling notes on the magical lore all around.

Alses moved to see her better, padding silently along the curve of the room until she could see the face of the occupant, curious as to who this strange academic could be.

Judging by the frown on the woman’s pale, unremarkable face, her work wasn’t going well. There were other signs of a distracted mind, too – feet kicking idly to some unheard rhythm, the absent-minded toying with her slippers, the too-focused regard on a silver ring glimmering on her hand.

Then there was the long, long stretch, and it brought a faint, bemused smile to Alses’ face at the spectacle, a scholar reduced to a child for a few ticks, and then back to a severe, responsible adult shrouded in black mourning robes just as quickly. Still with those odd lengths of hair down either side of her face that made her look oddly childlike, though…what were they called again? Hogtails?

It didn’t sound quite right in her head, but nothing else was forthcoming. Hogtails they probably were.

Curious that she should be here – although where, exactly, ‘here’ was escaped Alses for the moment. Not that it mattered.

She moved on velvet feet to the terminator-line, the point at which abundant light dimmed to a strange half-twilight. Even there, Alses herself glimmered with reflected radiance, the arcs and curves of her crown-of-horns glowing softly, fire-opal skin ablaze. Cream and gold were her colours, warm and familiar, silks shimmering and her sunburst signet all agleam as she stood there, watching quietly.

“Is there some difficulty?” she asked, voice aimed directly at the self-absorbed woman, and the sound shattered the silence.

[Annalisa Marin]

Anna found her reverie interrupted as a feeling of something odd worked its way through her mind, tugging at it and seeming to push against it. It felt odd, as though there was something here that was not supposed to be and that was invading the familiar comfort of Sahova. Comfort was an odd word to choose regarding the ancient and harrowing Citadel, rarely did anything approaching comfort wash over her when thoughts of Sahova rose. It was a dark place, so very cold, devoid of the necessities of life in favor for the perversion that existed in the plane between life and death.

Yet here it was, pushing against that comfort that had managed to worm its way into her heart regarding the island. It felt alien, almost wrong in an indescribable way. Anna brushed it off initially as simply her mind playing tricks upon her, though no matter how she attempted to return to her work it was of no use. It was still there, poking at the back of her mind like a long forgotten name toying with her tongue and refusing to make itself known verbally. It was jarring at her until finally spoken word shattered the silence hanging oppressively over the air.

Her grey eyes turned to gaze over her shoulder, widening slightly at the sight that was to be beheld. It was to her as though her world had become a little smaller, no; that was not quite right. It was as though her world had been invaded and in the place of Pre-Valterrian stone and the muted voice of time, artfully exquisite glass, brass and what looked to be rich and dark mahogany stood. Sunlight dappled from the ceiling to coat the world beyond the boarder that had formed in its golden rays, Syna’s embrace warm and beautiful as she imagined.

Then there was another anomaly, one which the very sight sent aches through the tall woman’s black heart and envy soon following. Adorned in fine silks she was, cream and gold mixing together beautifully and appeared to suit her as well as Anna’s own black and purple. Her opal flesh seemed to shine in the gentle sunlight, glassy horns rising from her skull to crown her head. Perfection was what came to mind, a marvel of beauty beyond the imagining of the mortal mind, something that had Anna wishing to take up brush and ink to attempt to capture the beauty of the moment. There was something almost divine and celestial about her, enough to send more aches of longing through the tall woman’s heart the longer she stared.

Then time caught up with the sorceress and Anna remembered exactly who she was and that she was gawking, an undignified action for a Wizard of the Citadel. Slipping her feet back into her slippers the woman slowly stood to her full height, leaving her work momentarily to address this oddity. She didn’t know how the blending of the two seemingly different worlds was possible, but at the moment it made sense to her mind. Though she imagined that they both reflected their worlds well, one brilliant and radiant, the other dark and regal.

The sorceress walked on sure feet to the border that divided the two realms, shifting her pair of long black pigtails to trail down her front. Her movements were more collected, trained one might say after having so long to emulate Amaryllis and her bearing. It lacked the same regal form of disdain towards those around them; however it certainly marked her as being plenty arrogant. A lesson from the Chief Embalmer, to reflect to the world what she was and thus have that be made true. She radiated that easy power, that strength that the Sahovan Masters had never expected in a pulser like her.

Arm crossed over her chest, a smirk of sorts playing at her pale lips as she halted before the divide. Part of her longed for that world the horned woman dwelled within, wanted to stand beneath Syna’s light and let it wash away the terror of Sahova. Humanity was a weakness the sorceress had yet to fully shed, despite having murdered, betrayed, and lied. Despite reflecting what Rhysol demanded of his faithful she retained that stubborn bit of decency, one that never faded no matter how hard she tried. It was the side that haunted her dreams the most, plaguing her with nightmares of the past and her suffering.

A question had yet to be addressed, a simple one and one that had more to do with her work obviously however the sorceress regarded it more generally. She was interested to know who this other woman was to be able to so bridge two entirely different worlds together, perhaps she might even be magically inclined enough to understand her meaning. When the Sorceress spoke her voice carried the tone of smooth honey, diplomatic in a sense.

“Difficulty? I suppose one might say that, then again it is rather difficult to translate matters of the mind to mere written words. One might claim that to do so is to lessen their value, to make the knowledge impersonal. Placing knowledge into patterns more easily understood by the minds of others is certainly a trial in and of itself one might say.” The sorceress said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Though, I speak of such things without first introducing myself. The ways of the Nuit must in turn be affecting my mind, for I often forget my manners when addressing a fellow pulser and especially one so radiant as yourself. I am Annalisa Marin, Wizard of the Citadel of Sahova and Fallen Alahea, Master of the Elements. To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?” She asked.

Her gaze flicked to the space around the horned woman, and then upwards to the glass ceiling which poured sunlight through it. Another smirk worked its way across her face as she returned it to the shorter woman beyond the border. It was certainly and impressive place in which she dwelled, a separation of light and darkness, so stark in its nature. She had to wonder if this woman was a bright as she appeared to be on the outside, or if her heart held the same darkness as any within its shadows.

“Impressive trick, by the way. You shall have to share with me the secret of so separating our two realms.” Anna commented lightly.

[Alses]

Alses had expected some measure of surprise to be evident at her sudden breaking of the heavy silence, but the woman, her dark counterpart, contained it well, pushing back her chair and rising. And rising – she was tall, taller than Alses, most certainly. Graceful and measured – the kind of poise that came from diligent practice - she came closer and closer, almost on the terminator line herself, all assured confidence and bunched, hidden power. Black and purple silk whispered around her and that silver ring glowed balefully on her finger as she approached, the dark mirror to Alses’ brightness.

Annalisa’s voice was honeyed and smooth, rich and soothing, and Alses couldn’t help but relax slightly at the warm sound. One eyebrow arched in mild interest as she looked around, before her head tilted slightly back to gaze into the pale gray eyes that faced her. “Trick?” she echoed. “No trick. Why shouldn’t the world rearrange itself to suit us?”

“Such titles!” she added, amusement rippling through her voice even as she swept a short half-bow in recognition of the other’s status. The words meant little to her, but Alses wasn’t a master aurist and something of a student of mortals for nothing – the impression behind the words was what mattered, the mantle of power and right that Annalisa wore like a cloak. This was a powerful personage, and a dangerous one, hiding her might behind pleasant, anonymous features and black mourning edged in tyrian silk. Manners cost Alses nothing beyond the time she had in endless quantities, and in her experience often brought dividends out of all proportion to what she’d invested.

“Alses is the name we go by,” she returned therefore, in formal reply. Even years Fallen, Alses still thought and dreamt in the celestial tongue that was the preserve of the Ukalas, and so when she spoke the ugly mortal sound she’d had to adopt as her own, here at least it was overlaid with her true name. The slow dance of the sun and moon in the heavens, the bright glory of a sunbeam and the spectacular brilliance and fury of a solar prominence, that was the sudden, fleeting impression, a bolt of meaning cast straight at Annalisa.

“By grace of Zintila Councillor Radiant of the Diamond of Kalea. Lhavit’s lady magesmith, too, and Master Aurist of the city of stars,” she continued. A pause, and a gentle, slightly mischievous smile. “Cityblessed by our actions, and much else besides. Alses will do, though-” again, that weltering shock of impressions carried in a single word “-or ‘your grace’, if you find our name too difficult. The pleasure is ours, we’re sure.” Her bright eyes locked with Annalisa’s startlingly pale grey ones for a few ticks, calmly assessing, drinking in every bit of information each movement, each subconscious twitch and flicker of expression brought.

The moment passed quickly, and Alses half-turned from the careful mutual appraisal, dropping elegantly into a pale, padded dantesca chair. A table nearby was suddenly cleared of books and now laden with the paraphernalia of teatime, Lhavit’s near-sacred and ubiquitous institution – cakes on a silver stand, a teapot steaming merrily, delicate cups and plates in fine array, all of them sparkling in the light and wafting delectable scents about the reading room. For the moment, though, Alses ignored the spread, lips pursed pensively as she considered the black apparition’s dilemma.

“It’s no mean feat to explain magic and mastery,” she agreed quietly. “Most particularly djedic theory, we’ve found. Nonetheless, it’s a vital art, unless we want to lose everything we’ve snatched back from the Valterrian’s jaws. Hoarding knowledge in heads makes it so…fragile, especially since mortals have an irritating propensity for death after a mere pinch of time.”

She opened her hands, as though something intangible had flown the nest. “And then, all that they knew, all the secrets they collected…gone. Unless they had the foresight to write it down or otherwise pass it on, of course. Which most don’t.” A frown crossed Alses’ features for a few ticks, and then cleared to an altogether sunnier countenance.

“Have you considered the glyphic arts, Annalisa Marin?” she asked suddenly. “Since the runes are concepts rather than words, as such.”

[Annalisa Marin]

Anna quirked an eyebrow at the other woman, as though to say that without titles one was rather lesser in a social situation. Her Mistress Amaryllis disagreed of course, though Anna didn’t agree with everything wilily Nuit said as they were two different people. To Amaryllis, titles were unimportant and she herself never identified by the honorifics granted to her such as ‘Mistress’ as she commented on how they made her sound old. That was of course forgetting that the embalmer her seen the fall of Alahea, the ancient civilization of which Sahova was the last true remnant of unfortunately. Really Anna was living centuries in the past, in a place long destroyed by time.

Alses… an odd name and one that did not exactly roll off of the tongue naturally, though the tall woman figured that at least it was not Nader-Canoch. Grey eyes beheld the sunbeams shooting down to bathe them in their brilliance, though the cold and ancient Sahovan walls seemed to draw just a little closer. Her mind having shifted to Amaryllis a shift began to occur in the half of her area that she dominated, changing to suit Anna’s thoughts unconsciously and with no control over it occurring.

Musty book cases were replaced by immaculate and smooth walls carved of the finest stone, marble floor springing up beneath her. The ceiling arched above her, its architecture an example of what had been lost with the destruction of Alahea. Glassy pools of shimmering water welled up behind her, the embalming fluid within a marvel of Amaryllis’ craft. The massive doubles doors carved so beautifully could be seen in the distance, the whole place being the Chief Embalmers domain in Sahova and her own little personal kingdom. It reflected the Nuit in many ways, arrogantly standing against the flow of time and denying it its victory.

The sorceress barely noticed the shift and simply seated herself opposite Alses, upon a fine carved desk laden with documents and a peacock quill. The unfinished tome was located off to the side, the pages still calling to her. Her brows rose at the onslaught of titles from her opposing number, a smirk creasing across her lips as she recognized a similar vanity existing in the other woman. This Alses would do well on Sahova if such was the case, though Anna had few ideas to the inner working of Auristics and only possessed the knowledge of an outsider looking in.

At the mention of such being lost sense the Valterrian Anna merely smirked and held out her arms, quirking an eyebrow to the other woman. So much had indeed been lost and there was no denying it, however the sorceress knew very well that Sahova itself for all its faults was a dream come true for most historians. It was history, just this one chamber of it spoke volumes of the impressive world that had once existed and could again with proper effort. Of course, such a world would need the guiding hand of Rhysol in its creation.

“True enough, though look around Councilor. I am not lacking for knowledge regarding the world before the Valterrian. Sahova exists outside time’s march it seems, and much knowledge can be found within the pages of their tomes or even just the walls of their Citadel. Fortunately, the Nuit lack the habit of dying that so plagues we mortals as you put it. They seem to find no problem in recording such knowledge.” Anna offered with a shrug.

Her brows quirked up at the mention of the Glyphing arts being practiced and a tiny smirk crossed her lips. Rather than answer her question with words Anna took up a blank sheet of parchment and dripped the peacock quill in ink. Her hand was a blur of movement and the furious scratch of quill upon parchment echoed out, her grey eyes fixed upon the work. There was seemingly no effort involved in how she moved, almost like it was completely instinctual.

The Focus came first, the large stylized inverted triangle coming to life on the parchment easily and being finished in mere ticks. It was an elegant thing to behold, almost a work of art unto itself that lesser Glyphers could only look upon with envy. The ink stained the parchment black and the will of the Glypher was absolute in the crafting of the symbols. They symbols themselves were meaningless of course; it was the purpose behind them that mattered.

From the Focus Anna started work on a ring of smaller Glyphs around it, stylized geometric shapes that were drawn at that same dizzying speed of mere ticks. This made up her Barrier, the Glyph that could be used to contain or repel magical forces to or from a certain area. This particular one was woven with the concept of containment in mind, which was the norm for a scroll sigil. Her quill worked furiously, the green and blue feather flashing through the air as she continued.

The Barrier done Anna placed a jumble of geometric shapes in the corner of the parchment, the Trigger for the scroll itself. This was arguably the most important step of the whole Glyphing process and how intricate ones Trigger was could determine the difference between a good scroll and a poor one. The tall woman added lines of common below the Glyph, already having a good idea in mind to show case her skill in the art.

When a blood relative of Annalisa Marin’s, the creator of this scroll, speaks the phrase ‘unleash the hounds’ on an even day in the season of Spring after reciting the entire Introduction to the book ‘Magic and I’ aloud, the Trigger will lower the Barrier and released the magic contained within the Focus.

A chime and a half. That was how much time had passed between the time she had picked up the peacock quill and the time she had placed it within the inkwell again. The sorceress stood from her chair and moved over to the divide, not crossing it but holding out the beautifully and masterfully crafted scroll for the other woman to look upon. As she did the tall woman spoke, her tone carrying no small amount of pride.

“Indeed I have practiced the Glyphing arts, Councilor Alses; you might call me a master of that as well. Though that mastery often makes it so that it is difficult for me to accurately describe it in a manner that can be understood to others.” Anna stated.

“Also, you are both correct and incorrect in your assessment of Glyphing. They are not words per say, however Glyphing itself is the codex by which one might understand the nature and flow of magic. To understand it is to understand how all magic, personal and worldly, is intrinsically connected at the core.” Anna explained, nodding to herself.

[Alses]

OOCSorry for the wait; uni is hideously hectic at the moment. Please forgive any errors!

Annalisa Marin was a relative stranger to power and influence, Alses thought; the flicker of superiority, glittering more than gold in her Sight, the taste of rich chocolate ghosting over her tongue, told her that - in her own mind, at least.

Titles only held as much real substance as their owner; all else was smoke and mirrors. Useful smoke and mirrors, oh yes – and Alses’ way of using them was usually a subtler one than simply bludgeoning someone with the battery of honorifics she’d acquired down the years. Most people who saw her knew who and what she was, after all, those titles and those positions forever in the backs of their minds when they spoke to her. They didn’t need an overt reminder; their own brains did that for her, and often gave her power beyond that which she actually wielded.

However, since Annalisa had led the way with her own fusillade, Alses thought it only fair to respond in kind, reeling off some of the more significant ones from the litany she’d built up. The two of them were still assessing one another, probing and testing, the polite social dance that was the prelude to conversation or conflict, the whole of it balanced on a knife-edge.

Even though Anna seemed to not have noticed the shift and change in the architecture on her side of the realm, Alses most certainly did, watching with an appreciative smile as it shifted from gloomy bookshelves and rough-hewn, naked, ancient stone to something altogether more airy, light and beautiful.

There were many similarities to Lhavit’s architecture that her own brain had conjured – hardly surprising, since the city had been built under the direction of the Ethaefal, who all remembered at least fragments and fever-dreams of the art and architecture that had all-but been obliterated with the Valterrian, but there were some features Alses had never seen before, marking Annalisa’s effort as separate and distinct rather than a mere copy, a shadow of her own half.

“You have taste,” she complimented, gesturing behind Annalisa to the view of vanished Alahea. “When you put your mind to it, anyway. Why such a gloomy room to start with, when all this was just below the surface?” Alses smiled. “The fountains are a nice touch. Soothing.”

She tipped her head back, letting her face and crown-of-horns soak up the sunlight. “Sunshine, stars, teatime and the sound of running water. The simple things.” She listened intently to Annalisa’s words, drinking them in, digesting them, turning them over and over in her mind.

“Then you are privileged indeed,” she returned. “Perhaps one day we’ll visit your dark Citadel, see what wonders have been preserved against Tanroa’s river, and what made Elena Lariat run to the other side of the world to get away.” There was the faint sound of chains curling over chains in the background, just on the edge of hearing, even as Alses pursed her lips, agile mind already turning to a way to manage the trip; she had duties and responsibilities in Lhavit now, after all, and to simply leave those would be…irresponsible.

“We don’t have any Nuit in Lhavit,” Alses mused. “At least, we don’t think so. Something about a lack of bodies, if we remember aright…Which, if they are immortal as you say, rather begs the question of why they need bodies?” she let the question tail off delicately into the aether, even as Annalisa dropped behind an elegant desk and began to quickly write, with a quill that was instantly the object of desire for Alses. Such shimmering colours, such a beautiful plume…she could instantly see why the quill-maker had left the feather as it was without cutting any of the iridescence off.

Annalisa’s skill was prodigious, that much was evident, the quill sizzling across the page as it left complex rune after complex rune in its wake. Alses followed the flash and flare of magic on the numinous plane that was her own to rule, admiring the elegance and efficiency, the assured mastery over the runes and sigils that were the mirrors of glyphery.

“You needn’t have bothered with the Common,” Alses interjected, amused. “Any sorceress could read your runes well enough. You’ve certainly got considerable skill, though – that’s one of the more elaborate triggers we’ve seen, and you’re very quick. It’s impressive.”

Her eyes were bright with interest as she watched Anna, following her thoughts and her actions as they shimmered into being. “Did we say they were just words?” she asked idly. “Concepts, Annalisa Marin, a very broad term indeed. That said…Glyphing is the physical reflection of the core of magic,” Alses contended.

“And like a mirror it can bend and distort and change – only with magic, rather than mundane light. Have a care, though, not to mistake the reflection for the thing itself. Glyphing is an aid to understanding, a crutch. A useful one, oh yes, we shan’t dispute its power and utility, employed with skill and grace - as you use it - but a crutch nonetheless compared to the pure quill at the heart of magic.” She smiled, and it was the pure and contented smile of someone who was looking at perfection – or something close to it.

“I watch the flow of magic itself. We watched you make those glyphs, saw your purple djed rise inside and spill out into the world, making the curving flows of ambient magic bend and ripple into the ideas you had, that’s how I see magic and its interconnections. How glyphing works with proud magecraft, with Animation, with Alchemy…the list goes on and on.”

Alses smiled placidly. “There’s more than one way to understand the heart of magic, although I can’t claim we know every curve and jag of its passage, the whys and wherefores of its actions. But there’s time for such things; time is something I have in eternal supply, at least.”

[Annalisa Marin]

Anna frowned slightly at Alses’ words, setting the scroll aside and instead crossing her arms beneath her breasts as she pondered the argument. Glyphing possessed manifold uses and it was far more than a mere crutch, honestly the very idea that the art could be classified as such was a little insulting to the sorceress. Glyphing was specifically designed to interact with Djed and magic, changing and warping it to bend the very rules by which one understood the craft. To suggest that it was anything but the codex for which one could understand the enter flow and weave of magic… it seemed a foolish thing to the dark haired woman.

The sorceress took that seeing of magic to mean auristics, a discipline she had known of for quite some time but never bothered to pick up. The tall woman resisted the urge to scoff at the idea of auristics being the means of truly understanding magic; it was a flawed concept in and of itself really in her opinion. Auristics might allow one to see, but seeing and understanding were two very different things as far as the tall sorceress was concerned. Most did not make the distinction however Anna was one of those few that did.

“Judging by your wording, might I presume you are an aurist? An interesting branch of magic, auristics, I’ve read of it and witnessed its utility. A useful magic of the self, limited ultimately, but useful from what I know.” Anna commented, striding over to a nearby pool of water.

“I am looking upon this pool, this glassy surface and I can see it. I can see the reflection that looks back at me Alses. I can see the liquid itself; possibly even chart its depth. However beyond that sight only carries so far. However I can understand with a little bit of study and deciphering, how to manipulate that liquid to benefit me. I can understand other things it might be useful for, like washing my body or filling a cup on a hot day.” Anna lectured, turning away from the pool.

“The same holds true for magic, seeing is one thing however true power comes from understanding how something is what it is and how then to warp and manipulate that to suit your own ends. Be it filling a scroll with fire, containing certain hostile magic to an area, or even unraveling the strands of magic itself to take that power away.” The tall woman said, the pools around her seeming to shimmer just a bit from the explanation as her pride expanded outwards.

The dark haired woman rounded the desk and sat back down behind it, steepling her fingers out before her and gazing at Alses with stormcast eyes. The other woman was beautiful in an otherworldly sort of way and clearly knowledgeable, though from the sorceress’ perspective her logic was flawed. Glyphing was the clearest and greatest way to understand the nature of magic, auristics allowed one to read the text of magic but Glyphing was the codex for deciphering that text. Anna knew that basic truth in her heart to be true.

“The simple truth remains that all aspects and branches of magic can be brought together and warped, changed, by Glyphs. That is an equal ground all magic, of either the self or the world, have in common Alses.” Anna affirmed with a nod.

Power came from knowledge and understanding in Anna’s opinion, just throwing around a fireball was not true power. Knowing how that fireball was made and how to warp and twist that fireball to suit one’s own ends was the true nature of power. It’s what made a high tier Glypher one of the most formidable forces a wizard could ever face, one that few would relish fighting on any level. It was simply a fact of the world.

As she spoke the divide between the two realms shifted a little, fluctuating as though Anna’s area was trying to consume Alses’ through this little debate. It was barely noticeable really though the sorceress felt a bit of pride in her heart as a sensation as she was who she was. She almost resembled a peacock that was preening its feathers as time went on.