1st of Fall, 514 AV
The Scholar's Asylum, Office of Bethany
Her tone was very matter-of-fact, cold and detached from the heat the words carried. It was casual, as if she had just informed him as to the location of the bathrooms or the time of day. Vervain stared at her for a moment, expecting her to say something. Anything. He wasn’t sure what.
She glanced up from her writing. “ Do you need something else, Mr. Saavius?”
“You- You’ve made a mistake.”
She set the clipboard down, sighing. “Oh?” She clasped her hands together, momentarily letting her thumbs rest on her chin before continuing.”Mr Saavius, I have been evaluating you during this process. Would you like to know what I have found?” Vervain didn’t bother answering, because she wasn’t asking. He just waited for her to continue.
“You are intelligent, but that intelligence is vague. Your background of wandering from place to place and being faced with the dangers of the wilderness at an early age have made you emotionally unstable. Your father instructed you in magic before you were mature enough to handle it, which has both given you an ego and simultaneously made you feel weak.” She shrugged, gesturing helplessly with her hands. “This is of course, unstable mental state to inhabit, and the strain of which has given you insomnia. To try and delude yourself into thinking you’re alright you’ve taken to trying to spend that time at night bettering and improving yourself, when in reality you're just running away from your inability to sleep.” Vervain stared at her with injured eyes, his breathing strained.
“So there it is. You are an insomniac with deep rooted emotional issues due to being dragged along by your fathers wanderlust, and you have a self-admitted capacity for murder.”
He wanted to take every beautiful painting he would never get to see and toss it into a bon fire. To immolate every slaver and bandit who couldn’t bare to grow a sense of morality and ethics even to save their miserable species. He wanted to take every god who had given any mortal a gnosis mark ever and rip their still beating hearts from their chests with his bare hands.
He wanted to spit acid and breath smog.
“Murder?” The word hung in the air like a bad odor over his head, his voice trembling as he reiterated it. “I told you, that was self-defense.”
Bethany waved a hand dismissively. “Call it whatever you wish, Mr. Saavius. The fact is that you are a swordsman and a Pyromancer, correct?” She shook her head. “The College of Djed isn’t in the habit of turning people into human weapons, which it would appear is what you came here for.”
Vervain sank back into his chair, holding his temple. The trip here had been a waste. When he had departed Avanthal for Zeltiva, he had done so with the assumption it would be his last trip for a good long while. At long last, the wanderer would find a home, even if it was a temporary one. So set on this path he was, he couldn’t even fathom where to go from here. His mind was a sheet of crumpled paper.
“Listen… Vervain.” He perked his head up a bit, staring at her from under the dark circles that framed his eyes. “If you have an argument, I am willing to entertain it. I am not unreasonable.” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, urging him on. “ State your case. Why should I admit you into the college?”
Vervain eyed her for a moment, scanning her face for hints of malice or facetiousness. If nothing else, he figured speaking his mind couldn’t hurt. Of course, he would have to find it first. He stood slowly, resting his hands on her desk.
“My father taught me many practical things, miss. How to grip a weapon, how to regulate how much Djed I use when performing pyromancy, basics of mathematics and history.” He leaned in slightly. “He inadvertently, however, taught me something far more important. Something the average non-wizard doesn’t realize.” Bethany leaned back, watching him intently as he spoke. “Wizards are not special. We may command an energy that is mysterious and powerful. Yet we are still mortal. We still suffer hunger and thirst, crave shelter and love. We still suffer from self doubt, from worrying about what the pretty girl at the end of the bar thinks about us.”
Vervain slunk back into his chair, his momentary burst of energy and confidence receding. “The only important distinction is that wizards have both an increased capacity for destruction and madness. A volatile combination, and one that has made our art form feared and in some cases hated. People would rather sit in the corner and rock back and forth, whispering inane prayers to themselves, then try to understand it.” He raised a hand, and pointed at himself. “Not me. Call it avarice if you wish, but I want to understand it. To understand us.” Bethany tentatively reached out for her clipboard, picking it and her quill back up, but writing nothing.
“Earlier, miss, you asked me toward what end I wanted to learn. The most honest answer I can give is simply, ‘I do not know’. If you cut away the posturing and the fluff, that is the heart of why I came here. Djed fascinates and enthralls me, but beyond that, I am lost. “ He locked eyes with her now, taking a deep, shaky breath. “ All I do know is that I am determined, and capable of far more than it might appear.”
Bethany waited several moments to assure herself that he had finished speaking. She nodded slowly, adding several more details to her notes with a few graceful strokes of the pen. “Your drive and intellect are not in question.” She drummed her fingers on the desk, looking upon Vervain with eyes that were somewhat foreign to him. She seemed to be contemplating something, calculating the values on scales in the back of her mind. “Your insomnia, however, puts you at some risk. You have the potential to become a great wizard, if you get some rest and keep your feet planted firmly in the ground.” She deftly slid a single sheet of paper out from a stack, and would bring her quill across in the sleek and graceful motion that could only come from practice - likely a signature. She folded it and slid it into an envelope, sealing it and setting it down on the other end of the desk in front of him.
He glanced down at it. “Miss?”
She smiled - and for the first time, it touched her eyes, the predatory gleam melting away from her face. “Welcome to the college of Djed, Vervain. “ She took his hand, and he shook hers enthusiastically, the fatigue around his eyes brightening. “Don’t make me wrong on this, Mr. Saavius. “
“I promise to give it everything I have, Miss.”
She nodded, letting go of his hand and watching him leave, sealed envelope in hand. “Of that, Mr. Saavius, I have no doubt.”