astarill rp 2 – vvardenfellcat

Magnus rises in the Atronach

astarill:

“I should hope you are familiar with the theory that the energy commonly denoted as ‘magicka’ falls to Mundus from Aetherius in its raw form, and that every entity within Mundus has a quantifiable capacity to absorb, store and transform this energy into a workable form – yes?”

He left the Khajiit little time to answer, rising from his seat. “Among those born during the period when the constellation of the Atronach stands in the sky where the sun rises, there are a few individuals that are severely limited if not wholly incapable of processing magicka in its pure, Aetherial form. They can only absorb transformed magicka, and deprived as they are, they will do so much more readily than anyone else. I think you’ll find that’s your problem.”

He crossed his arms and leaned himself back against the desk. “If you care to break your head over the ‘why’ of the matter, I suggest you seek out an astronomer. Or lacking that, a scholar at a temple, if you can stand that kind of people. But for now, I believe your priority ought to be to familiarize yourself with your relative position in the cosmos and learn to compensate for it.”

He wasn’t familiar, no, but…some of it sounded faintly familiar (if confusing for a moment or two afterwards while he worked out roughly what was said, anyways). Was it something he read, or had it just been briefly mentioned in class? He’d have to look at his notes… The Khajiit’s attention snapped back to the mer when he stood, his tail curling a little closer to his legs before Astarill moved to lean against his desk instead. J’hasi’s ears flicked back a little at mention of temple scholars, but otherwise was still until his tail tip started ticking back and forth, thinking.

“So…um… Me being born under the Atronach is why I can’t…get my spells to work?” he asked, eyes flicking back up from where they’d been focused elsewhere while thinking, ears cocked. He wasn’t exactly sure what was all meant, with absorbing m-

His thoughts stopped dead, eyebrows rising a little for a moment. Was that why spells didn’t always hurt him? At the time he’d just been grateful for what he’d thought was other mages messing up on their magic, but… Dargzalzi had mentioned him being difficult to cast spells on, all the troubles with Colette and nearly every other healer that had attempted to heal him with magic, and the many, many times he’d been struck with blasts of fire, shock, Illusion and Alteration magics alike when some times they’d do something, others they just….

They usually just felt like how his hands did when he cast the spell. Tingly, weird, but he wasn’t hurt. J’hasi’s eyes flicked back to the Altmer’s, tail still.

“I…I had no idea that…” He frowned, a bit of confusion still lingering.

“Wait, so that would affect my own spells too? I mean, sometimes I can cast them, but sometimes they blow up in my face too.”

Magnus rises in the Atronach

astarill:

Well? What was he waiting for? Astarill sighed, silently. He knew better than to make a show of it. The Khajiit may not be his student, but he was a student. Nervous little twit though he may be, he was to be treated with due respect. He posed a good enough teacher to know pressing the apprentice would not have a beneficial effect in this instance.

So he refrained from commenting and simply waited, until the Khajiit began his summoning. A breath, a moment’s concentration, and Astarill’s eyes lit up with the soft glow of a Mage Eye spell. Streams of magicka pervaded the colourless landscape of his vision, translating, visualizing and clarifying the apprentice’s botched attempt. Except it wasn’t botched, was it?

He blinked and in doing so dismissed his own spell. “Were you born in Sun’s Dusk, by any chance?”

J’hasi’s ears cocked as he looked up at the mer, confusion on his face as he paused in rubbing his fingers, trying to get rid of the weird feeling in them under the leather.

“Y…yeah. The eighth…” A pause, dropping eye contact for a moment as the Khajiit thought the question over, only to increase his confusion when he looked back up.

“But what does that have to do with…?” he asked, unsure what to call his problem aside from ‘fucking up’. He settled for gesturing vaguely, teeth grit a little in a wince for lack of a better phrasing, ears flicking back as that sick feeling rose up in his throat again.

Magnus rises in the Atronach

astarill:

His gaze grew distant, brow furrowing in attempt to visualize the Khajiit’s explanation. It was as vague as it was meandering, and not much enlightening. Though, wasn’t that the point? If he could identify the problem by himself, he wouldn’t have sought help.

“All right.”

He straightened himself and subjected his papers to the same. Then followed his books, all neatly stacked and not an inch out of place while he mulled some more on what he’d heard. He reunited and secured the ink pot with its lid, and only then did he walk around the desk to pull up a chair from the front row, near the Khajiit. He seated himself sideways, leaning an elbow upon the backrest. Fingers interlinked, ankle drawn across the opposing knee. He raised his chin expectantly.

“Show me.”

He’d almost thought the mer was packing up to just leave, but the relative level of tension hiked up enough to feel like it was choking him when Astarill sat down, waiting. J’hasi swallowed, claws skimming over the seams of leather over his hands as he forced his tail to stay low. His ears flicked back, fidgeting as he tried to calm himself down. He didn’t want the reprimand that would undoubtedly come if he’d just been an idiot this whole time and forgotten something. He’d been doing it right, hadn’t he? How easily could someone screw up over something that seemed to be second nature to most mages?

…but…how else was he going to pass his class if he didn’t get help? The Khajiit took a deep breath. He’d just…have to do it and hope for the best… He backed up a little to give himself some space before flicking through the steps in his mind. ‘Magicka, visualize, connect…and…’ The purple magicka flickering unsteadily in his hands flared a little before…that stupid flash made the room a little brighter before fading just as quickly, and the weird feeling that followed, like a shiver down his arms and over his skin. And most importantly, no fucking familiar. He flexed his fingers, the sensation lingering there still as his tail curled closer to himself in resignation.

“It flashed that time. M’not sure if that helps.”

Magnus rises in the Atronach

astarill:

If the mer noticed any attitude, he didn’t show it; only grateful that he’d managed to coax some manner of workable response from that furry sack of fried nerves.

“So I gather you seek one or more extracurricular lessons to make up for the discrepancy between your level of skill and the skill your curriculum expects of you. Did you go through the proper channels?” He didn’t even wait for an answer and simply pulled up an empty parchment. “Of course you didn’t. No matter. I will take care of that for you, and have you sign the proper form later. I do prefer to get paid for the time I set aside.”

There was a moment’s respite from the mer’s trenchant words. Reading aid in one hand, ink pen in the other, he made a short notation. Just once, it would be nice if an apprentice remembered to bring the proper forms.

“It would be useful,” He put his pen down, “if we had some insight into why you’re experiencing difficulty summoning. If you can’t summon a scamp from the Deadlands, neither will you be able to summon a spirit from the Soul Cairn.”

He’d thought he had a firm grasp on Cyrodilic, but this mer’s vocabulary had him half-stumbling in his mind trying to keep up. Had he talked like this last time? J’hasi’s mouth dropped open a little, at a loss of how to answer the question asked before Astarill interrupted any potential reply he could’ve formed. The Khajiit settled for trying not to fidget in place, rubbing the pad of his thumb over a ridge in the leather covering the side of his hand. He didn’t realize there was so much paperwork involved with teaching.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” he mumbled, still feeling as if he was being scolded. Maybe he was. All he knew (and really, cared about) was that he’d get help, which he sorely needed. It was embarrassing, lagging behind skillwise, dragging along behind everyone else in his classes, even behind that godsdamned whelp of a Thalmor. J’hasi’s ears pricked a little when the Altmer spoke again, eye contact following shortly after. He set aside the question about what the Soul Cairn was for later, rubbing the back of his neck while he tried to figure out how to articulate the exact problem. He swallowed, ears flattening a little.

“I…don’t know. I followed the instructions as Ph-…uh, Sera Gestor explained them, but nothing comes out of it. Sometimes there’s this sort of…flash? But nothing shows up. And the other times when that doesn’t happen, I just get a weird feeling in my fur, and still nothing. I’m not sure I’m even making the…connection, tether, whatever it’s called. The way you’re supposed to communicate with the summon.”

Magnus rises in the Atronach

astarill:

His face split into a sinuous smile underneath unaffected eyes.

“Well then.” His hands came to rest flat on the desk and he leaned forward, hips angling as he shifted his weight onto one leg. “Let me just snap my fingers and imbue you with knowledge and experience that takes others decades of toil to acquire.”

By the end of his sentence, the grin had disappeared without a trace or even a hint that it was ever there. “I suggest you be more specific, or come back tomorrow to attend the next lecture like everyone else.”

The Khajiit tried not to scowl, he really did. But if the mer was blind…did it matter? He settled for ‘mildly irritated’ on the off-chance he could see, a bit of a grimace on his face when he recalled when he had been taught something complex more or less ‘with a snap of one’s fingers’ with little enthusiasm. ‘No thank you.’ J’hasi swallowed, trying to keep himself from fidgeting.

“I just…need to get something that works more or less like a summon. It’s…for class.” He hadn’t exactly asked if necromancy could be a suitable substitute for a familiar, but it was sort of the same thing, right? His choice to come in here had been a split-second decision to slip in when he passed the lecture hall and heard what was being discussed before he could convince himself otherwise. A choice that was rapidly starting to seem to be a poor one. The Khajiit sighed, eye contact swiftly dropping to the floor.

“I can’t…get the summon we were supposed to do to work. I thought that…having something that works at least would be acceptable.” he muttered, ears flicking back in shame.

Magnus rises in the Atronach

astarill:

“… though such spells exist, they require a substrate as fresh as moments post-mortem, because ─ I reiterate

─ the brain is the first to go. Difficult enough as it is to keep intact and functioning in life.”

A ripple of muffled laughter originated from various points in the audience. A student in the front row raised their hand and pointed to the hourglass on the edge of the desk. Astarill nodded. Unable to see the trickle of sand through the glass himself, he’d always ask one attendant to mind the time for him. He was just about done, anyway. He’d leave the examplary anecdote for next class’ recapitulation of today’s matter.

“What you’ll need to remember of the last hour, are the five stages of decomposition, the indicators associated with each, and what options that leaves you with.” He moved back behind the desk. “Should you find your notes lacking, you should be able to find what’s missing in the literature I recommended at the start of this course. That would be all for today.”

Chairs scraped along the floor and people got to their feet. Astarill turned his back to them and leaned against the desk; reading aid in one hand, notes in the other to see if he had discussed everything he meant to discuss. As the hall drained of bodies, he became aware that one remained. Remained, or perhaps they had only just walked in when the others left

─ Astarill had paid it no heed. He recognized them, now. That Khajiit, who signed up last year and left all his godsdamn luggage in the library.

“You.” He stood and turned, placing his notes and gem down before him. “Still here, I see. Did you want something?”

‘How in the Hist does he do that?’

J’hasi swallowed nervously, fingers fumbling over each other as he tried to calm down. He hadn’t made a single peep the entire time he’d been in here, sneaking in without a sound, and yet somehow the professor still knew he was in here without looking. It was beyond unsettling. But he had been directed here for a reason, and it was for that reason he wasn’t going to leave until he got what he needed.

…gods, he felt like he was going to be sick…

“I…um… Y-yes, actually…” ‘Deep breaths, you can do this.’

“I need you to teach me necromancy.” The Khajiit flinched, ears pulling back a little at how abrupt and blunt he had sounded, but…at least he got that out? He swallowed, taking another deep breath, feeling anxiety prickle along his ribs to his spine as he kept his gaze lowered, ears slowly flattening against his skull in a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

“…please.” He didn’t want to explain why, hell he wouldn’t even be here in the first place had he just been able to summon a familiar like everyone else managed to do in his class.