Rekindling [Ravvus/PM for Entry]

[Minerva]

The Lycian restaurant was relatively quiet and calm, though full nearly to the brim with tables of patrons. The low hum of healthy chatter filled the air with a pleasant white noise, and the clinking of glasses at the bar punctuated the atmosphere in elegance and style. Indeed, this establishment was one of the higher-end restaurants in Tania, and the clean, crisp stone tables and chairs, with their mottled granite appearance, were in tactful and suave contrast to the smoother, paler stone walls. Placemats of neutral linen adorned the tables, and cutlery of fine steel put the finishing touches on the physical features. The ambiance was similarly splendid, with light pouring gently from wall sconces to illuminate the large room.

At a smaller table, set for two, a woman sat with a menu and an unlit candle. It was the only one in the establishment not lit; had the wait staff been less busy, they most likely would have rectified the issue immediately. But with the demands of serving and attending to many guests, this small detail went unnoticed and uncorrected. It did not bother the woman, who likewise had not noticed it. She was busy poring over the salads, the menu in one hand and the other swirling a glass of dark red wine. Her face was composed, youthful, and unlined and unscarred, but in her eyes an odd fierceness glinted, a savage hardness not unlike that found in the raw, wild stone of the tables.

Every so often Minerva would set the glass of wine down gently and swipe a shock of blunette hair out of her eyes, brushing it to the side in a futile and halfhearted attempt to keep it from sliding back. It was the least of her concerns, but an interesting, repetitive, and wholly nonsensical motion.

If anyone were to enter the establishment, they would likely be able to see the woman, sitting in profile, her frame illuminated and the shadow of the menu casting a long dark swath over the unlit candle. It was not as if she was trying to hide, but she certainly was not expecting anyone. In fact, she was enjoying the brief respite from the demands of a 'profession' that required a certain type of interpersonal style and the common crude remarks she received from intoxicated patrons of less affluent restaurants and pubs. All in all, she was at peace.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Ravvus was more than a little pissed. It seemed like fate was working against him, denying the mage what he wanted. First there was the embargo on Remi, which prevented the mage from taking the sea route to Delfia. Instead of an easy, relaxing cruise, Ravvus now needed to trudge across all of Lycia just to get to his destination. 

Then there were his last two jobs, both of which had been utterly botched. The smuggling job had been the more infuriating of the two. On the bright side, Ravvus' suspicions of dragons had finally been confirmed. But on the downside Ravvus didn't get the chance to fight the dragon. What was worse was that the dragon absconded with the gold and purple-spotted egg the mage had been planning to steal. The exotic item would have made a nice addition to his collection of nick nacks. Until it hatched of course. At that point, Ravvus could have sold the wyvern to Goeke-Morey, or some other Etrurian in need of the rare hatchling.

The job with the Pale Compass had been more fruitful, although it might have also been the cause of fate throwing so much bad karma his way. Escaping the Killuan archive with their lives had been no less than a miracle on the guild's part. Ravvus was still surprised the Killuan tribe hadn't slaughtered everyone. The mage's only consolation, and perhaps the cause of his misfortune, had been a tome he pilfered from the archive.

'Hailstorm', the Killuan sister's had called it. 

A spell book of fimbulvetr from the Killuan tribe. Allegedly the book was linked with ill omen, and never meant to leave the archive. But now it had left the archive in Ravvus' capable hands. And now he had to foot-slog across all of Lycia after almost fighting a dragon and nearly being slain by a pack of xenophobic Sacaens. Bad karma, ill fortune, punishment for theft of a cursed item? Maybe. But if a little frustration was all the mage had to deal with, then he gladly accepted Hailstorm's 'curse'.

The mage had been walking almost non-stop for the last three days, surviving off of provisions from his travel satchel. He needed a break, needed some pampering. Ravvus found himself outside of a higher-end looking restaurant named 'Base of the Mountain'. Mountain imagery tended to be a recurring motif for inns, restaurants, taverns, etc, in Tania and Pherae. For whatever reason, the provinces wanted to remind everyone that they were located on the border of the Bernese mountain line. Ravvus didn't entirely know why. Frankly, he found it somewhat childish.

Ravvus stepped into the ritzy establishment, taking in the clean air and refined aesthetic. Surveying the attire of the patrons and the craftsmanship of the building, the mage quickly surmised that Base of the Mountain was outside of his price range.

“Excuse me, sir.” Spoke the portly host of the establishment. “What um, what is that?” The man inquired, pointing at Ravvus' cloak with a meaty finger. 

”What, this?” The mage asked back, lifting the orange fabric with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Yes, ah, that.” The host continued. “It's quite... optical.”

Oh for the love of Roland.

Ravvus rolled his eyes, too tired to catch flak for his choice in attire. "What can say? I like orange.” The mage commented, drolly. ”Look, I just wanted to take a look at the menu. See what the prices here are like.”

The host kept his hands folded along his outstretched belly. “I can tell you that they are quite appropriate and quite high.” The host spoke dismissively, looking past Ravvus to see if there was anybody else behind him. 

”Ok. What are they?”

“Well, I certainly don't know the price of an individual meal off the top of my head.”

”Oh, Saint's mercif-” Ravvus sighed, both hands gripping his head in frustration. ”Look. I've been on my feet for the last three days. I'm very tired and I don't have a whole lot of patience right now. Please just let me look at a menu. I probably can't afford anything, but I'll be out of your hair once I know I can't afford anything.” The mage exhaled, exhausted.

The portly man was clearly not amused by Ravvus' blunt dialogue. His brow furrowed, his lips curled into a frown, and his eyes grew contemptuous and mistrusting. Finally he spoke: “Wait here, right, here.” and left to grab a menu.

Ravvus reclined against one of the wooden supports of the establishment and let out a long sigh. Maybe he should just leave. Even if he could afford to dine here, it's not like he'd want to. His bright attire would draw unwanted and unpleasant attention from the wait staff and other patrons, he'd have to deal with the host casting daggers while he ate, and he'd be that much poorer after eating a meal with portions far too small. 

The mage's eyes wandered, observing the crowd of patrons in the restaurant. They were all well-dressed, covered in head to toe with finery. At one table sat a blond and her brown-haired date. The blond swirled a glass of wine in her hand, paying more attention to it than her companion. At another table sat an elderly couple and a handful of young-adult patrons. Probably a family lunch. At another table in the establishment sat a blunette, her eyes fixated entirely on the menu in her hand. Funny, she looked a lot like Minerva. Minerva, Ravvus remembered her fondly. He'd only met her once, but he had enjoyed every minute he'd spent with her. From the shameless flirting, to the sparring as peers, and the short time they spent together as lovers, Ravvus found himself hard-pressed to find a moment he hadn't enjoyed while in her company. Sure, he had been thrown off initially by her coquettish nature, but once he'd gotten used to it Ravvus found it rather charming.

The mage stared at her, lost in his own nostalgia. The more he looked at her, the more she matched his memory of the woman. Her skin was pale, but fair. Her dress alluring, showing off her cleavage and shoulders, but not shameless. She really looked like Minerva. Ravvus blinked several times as he stared at the blunette. That woman didn't just look like Minerva, she was Minerva. Wasn't she? The mage wasn't sure. She certainly matched the memory in his head. But he couldn't tell from this distance. Ravvus eyed the unlit candle at her table and a thought popped into his head. The conjurer leveled his right hand and flicked his pointer finger against his thumb. An ember shot forth from his hand and lighted the candle wick with flame. If that really was Minerva, then she'd understand the symbolic gesture the mage had just performed.

[Minerva]

The mage made her selection, nodding once and sipping her wine as she lowered the menu to the table. The autumn salad it would be – the combination of mushrooms, greenery, and tomato sounded absolutely delightful. And a vermouth to go with it, she thought. That would be a nice end to the meal – a crisp strong vermouth. Her eyes briefly met a waiter’s and he nodded, moving over to her table and accepting her order with sharp, professional grace before bowing and withdrawing. Now alone, Minerva sighed softly and shook her head once, her fingers idly brushing each other as she stared at the unilt candle at her table. Almost subconsciously, she raised her right hand slightly, pointing at the black wick, and gave a dull smile as it burst forth into a reddish-orange flame.

Then she cocked her head, looking at the candle with a much more serious expression. Her flames were nearly always blue. It had been weeks since she’d cast an orange flame – that was simply not her technique. And she certainly would not have done it subconsciously. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever silently casting an orange flame. The only one who’d done that she knew of was Ravvus.

Heh, Ravvus. She remembered that encounter all too well. The mage had been physical, virulent, and bursting with life. He’d been a fitting counterpart to her, a worthy opponent, and a satisfying lover. Her memories of that day were wholly pleasant. What she wouldn’t give for the company of a Ravvus over the hordes of crass men she usually saw or the sullen faces of the other smugglers.

Almost holding her breath, the mage turned her head ever so slowly to gaze over her shoulder to the left, scanning the restaurant until her eyes fell upon a figure near the entrance, clad in a trademark orange cloak and with a mat of blonde hair on top of his head. His right hand was extended in a pointing gesture with a queer expression on his face, partially questioning and partially contented.

Minerva couldn’t contain herself, and chuckled softly as she broke into a smile. She nodded knowingly and raised her left hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion and then pointing to the empty seat across from her, the playful smile still lingering on her lips.

"Ravvus."

What were the chances that Ravvus would appear here in Tania? It was a pleasant surprise and a good diversion from the drudgery of the smuggling, certainly, but more than that it represented a new chance to share insights, strategies, and magical banter with an intelligent, attractive mage with a similar style to hers. And who could tell what the future would hold – she certainly wouldn’t mind another duel. But there was a lot to catch up on first. What sort of threads of Fate had brought them together once more?

[Ravvus Wiseau]

The woman at the table looked at him and let out a chuckle. No doubt about it, that was Minerva. With a lively grin on her lips, the blunette waved him over. Ravvus found himself smiling back at her. The mage took a step forward, only to be halted by a familiar voice.

“Sir!” Rang out the host, approaching him. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn't move from your position.” Humorlessly, the portly man handed Ravvus a menu.

The mage sighed, exhausted with interacting with the man, and took the menu. ”Oh, wow, this doesn't look out of my price range.” Ravvus muttered, barely glancing at the item, and shoved the menu back in the host's hands.

“Bu- wha- bla- huh?! You, you're serious?! I thought you said-”

”Changed my mind.” The mage spoke, side-stepping the host.

The portly fellow put his face in his hands. “Could you please at least remove that... ghastly orange cloak?” The defeated request was muffled behind his large hands. Wanting to waste as little time as possible, Ravvus undid the clasp on his cloak and stuffed it into his travel satchel. He turned to the host and raised his shoulders, as if asking 'better?' The portly man just shook his head and waved him off. Equally exhausted with the host, Ravvus made no comment and approached Minerva's table.

”This is a pleasant surprise, isn't it?” Ravvus asked, pulling back a seat. ”I hope you weren't watching that nonsense back there. The host didn't like my attire. I can't blame him, but I don't really have the luxury of slapping on something more innocuous.” The mage sighed, falling into his seat. Words couldn't describe how good it felt to sit after the last three days. His body seemed to melt into the chair after so much walking. ”But enough about that.” Ravvus smiled at the woman across from him, feeling a warmth and giddiness swell within him as he looked at the pale-skinned coquette. ”How have you been, gorgeous?”

[Minerva]

There was a bit of a strange business near the entrance, but then Ravvus emerged, stowing his cloak in his bag and slipping into a chair with a long sigh. As soon as the exhausted gesture had passed his lips, though, he seemed to revitalize, a smile expanding over his face before he sent the first shot across the table, his smooth voice hitting Minerva almost like a tiny electric shock.

“How have you been, gorgeous?”

Minerva realized just how excited, nervous, and exhilarated she was all at once, and her first attempt to speak sputtered out in failure. Shaking her head, with an amazed laugh, she took a drink and then looked at the blonde mage with surprise and obvious affection.

“You’ve certainly gotten bold, Ravvus. I remember the first time we met, you were squeaking like a boy when we first started to spar. Of course, we soon got past all of that nonsense, but still… I like this new confidence.

Oops! I guess ranting about how attractive your demeanor is doesn’t really answer your question. Anyway, I’m doing well. I’ve been searching around a bit, and I had an interesting adventure up in Ilia with an ancient temple and a magically powered guardian of ice. That was pretty neat. Oh, and I almost got eaten by a Wyvern. That wasn’t so neat. And now I’m here, and this is much more pleasant than either of those.

Sorry, I guess I’m rambling. I must seem like such a loose cannon. I apologize. Anyway, how are you, Ravvus? You certainly haven’t let your looks fade at all… Still that same smile, those piercing eyes, and, if you will permit me…”

Minerva reached across and ran her hand quickly through Ravvus’s hair before dropping her hand on the table, leaving it in the no-man’s-land between them and chuckling.

“Damn, babe. I sure do love that hair of yours.

So all in all, pretty good on my end. Though I haven’t had a good meal or a good duel or even good conversation in a long time, much less attractive company. How about you, Ravvus? Had any adventures of your own?”

And completely forgetting that she had just asked a question that her friend would most likely want to answer, she added one more thing to her exuberant monologue, smiling and giving a wink at the candle.

“Classy trick you pulled there. You sure do know how to win the ladies’ hearts!”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Ravvus couldn't help but chuckle at Minerva's unexpected gibberish. He certainly never pictured a woman as bold as her stumbling over her words. ”Come on, Min.” The blonde spoke, poking fun at his companion. ”We both know I'm not that sexy.”

The mage chuckled as Minerva went on to flatter him. ”Well maybe I just know what you like. Maybe I'm using that to get on your good side.” The blunette placed her hand on his head, running her delicate, pale fingers through his hair. Ravvus closed his eyes and smiled, savoring the brief moment of contact. All the woman did was pet him, run her fingers through his hair, but the mage found himself excited by it. He could feel the tempo of his heart-beat increase just so and a warmth swell within his body. Ravvus reached out covering Minerva's pale hand with his slightly tanner hand. ”And your skin is as soft as I remember.” He smiled at the blunette, running his fingers along the back of her hand before maneuvering them beneath it and feeling her open palm with those same digits. The Ilian running her fingers through his hair had felt good. But feeling the heat of her hand with his own felt better. The mage chuckled lightly. ”I think if we're being candid, you're the one with the better smile.”

”I think I might be able to help with those last two.” Ravvus smiled, referring to her comments about conversation and sparing, whilst running his fingers along her open palm.

”My adventures?” The mage asked himself, leaning back in his chair and breaking off his touch with Minerva. ”Hmmm” He let out in a sigh. ”Well, I tried to help two Sacaens breach their tribe's archive. Their tribe then attacked me and the men I was working with. Barely got out of that one. I had my own run-in with wyverns as well. A group of smugglers was trying to transport a valuable wyvern egg out of Bern and I uh... heh heh... figured I might take their egg under my wing, so to speak. We were stopped by some Bernese border guards and an-” Ravvus cut himself off. Minerva would probably think him mad if he mentioned a chance encounter with a dragon, not that Ravvus would blame her. The mage was still having trouble believing that dragons really did still exist on Elibe. ”Well, we were stopped by some creature who made off with the egg. So things didn't work out so well with that job.” Ravvus let out a sigh.

The mage took a quick half-look at the candle. ”What can I say? I know how to get on your good side.”

[Minerva]

“Come on, Min. We both know I’m not that sexy.”

Minerva laughed, feeling more at ease, and was almost calm again when Ravvus placed his hand out, gently caressing hers and sending veritable electric shocks from each of his fingertips up through her whole arm. When Ravvus broke off the contact, it was almost as if she was released from a tight grip which had held her frozen, magnetized, dazed.

As her friend began to detail his (mis)adventures, Minerva’s eyebrows raised, her expression becoming more and more incredulous as she considered everything. Breaching the archive of a Sacaean tribe and barely escaping, and then stealing a wyvern egg from smugglers, evading border guards, and after all of the danger and excitement, having the egg stolen by some beast?

Good Gaea, and she thought it was a big deal when she sank a border patrol boat while smuggling spice. Where would one even get a wyvern egg? That thing had to be worth a pretty pile of gold, that was for sure. Hmm. If Ravvus was into that sort of risky living, perhaps together they could make some really high-profile shenanigans happen. It was difficult to say, but their combined powers just might be enough…

“Good Gaea, Ravvus. You’ve certainly been more than busy. It almost puts my smuggling and my magical mountaineering to shame!”

The mage laughed, smiling as food arrived, the main course a large salad, with various side dishes accompanying and a fill for each of their wineglasses. When the waiter had retreated, bowing deeply, she motioned for Ravvus to dig in and took up a leaf from the main salad, twirling it between her thumb and index finger before eating it daintily.

“Say... You’ve heard of the Etrurian invasion of Ilia, right? What do you think about that whole business, Ravvus?”

It was not a loaded question or a test in any way; Ravvus would be able to see that clearly from her expression and hear it in her tone. In fact, it more sounded like the question was a mere precursor, a formality that she felt bound to ask. Regardless, she did not continue speaking, merely using her utensils to collect some more salad and a spring roll to eat, her highborn roots shining through in the impeccable etiquette she displayed unconsciously.

In any case, it was a valid question – with such a gap from when they had last spoken, much had changed in the world and perhaps even in each other. But that would remain to be seen; for now, she simply gazed affectionately and questioningly at her friend, sparring partner, fellow sparkling conversationalist, and casual-yet-not one-afternoon-igloo-stand lover.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

”Heh heh. You flatter me too much, Min.” Ravvus chuckled, bashfully covering his open mouth. ”You'll have to tell me more about that ice giant at some point, not to mention how you avoided becoming wyvern chow.” The mage paused, observing the waiter as he brought Minerva her food. His eyes shot from dish to dish, visualizing gold coins in place of the meal. Ravvus had to wonder how much money must have been sunk into this one lunch. Minerva certainly did well for herself.

”You're very generous.” Ravvus smiled as his companion offered a portion of her food to him. He would have preferred something harder than salad but, then again, he wasn't paying for this meal. Saint's name, he couldn't even afford it.

”Hmmm.” Ravvus muttered, tapping his pointer finger on the table, while gazing at Minerva. It took him a moment to notice that she was fondly gazing back. The mage smirked, casting his head to the side bashfully as a warmth swelled within him. ”Well....” Ravvus stuttered, doing his best to focus on the question at hand. Truthfully, the mage wasn't particularly focused on talking at the moment. Every time he caught that tender look from Minerva, his mind wandered, wandered to memories of the igloo and a burning desire to make another. ”I share the same sentiments as most people. Etruria is in the wrong, and I'm concerned as to what will happen to the rest of Elibe if the invasion succeeds.”

”For the most part-” Ravvus, allowing his eyes to wander, let out a lengthy sigh. ”It annoys me. I have business associates in both Etruria and Ilia. Conflict in one country would be bad enough; but the the two of them at each other's throats? Well, that's just utterly inconvenient for me.” His eyes came back to resting on Minerva. ”...And you?” The mage inquired, resting his cheek against his knuckles. ”I can't imagine the prospect of your homeland being invaded is all that pleasant.”

[Minerva]

“You’re very generous.”

“And you’re very attractive.”

Minerva gave a light laugh, like the sound of tiny crystals bouncing off of each other. She smiled, feeling genuine happiness and ease in her heart. It was an unusual feeling, especially for a woman whose entire livelihood depended on deception, social engineering, and her love of causing mayhem. It was foreign to be peaceful, to relax with someone she wasn’t trying to play or con or hoodwink. And she found that she enjoyed it, enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness and vertigo that Ravvus brought her.

”I share the same sentiments as most people. Etruria is in the wrong, and I'm concerned as to what will happen to the rest of Elibe if the invasion succeeds.

For the most part – it annoys me. I have business associates in both Etruria and Ilia. Conflict in one country would be bad enough; but the the two of them at each other's throats? Well, that's just utterly inconvenient for me...And you? I can't imagine the prospect of your homeland being invaded is all that pleasant.”

Ravvus’s answer was entirely logical, and Minerva nodded along with it. She felt similarly, really. Some might call her a traitor, or afraid to defend her country, but the fact was that the mage just simply didn’t care enough about Ilia to want to risk dying out in the snow for a political battle.

“I… I feel similarly. Yes, I do feel some obligation to help defend Ilia, but I also don’t want to die alone, fighting as a grunt in a squabble between two faceless political groups. I am removed enough from government to realize just how petty these sorts of disputes are, and I think it’s smarter for me to stay away… and live to see another day.

There is so much that I have yet to do in this world. So much that I enjoy, so much that brings me happiness and joy. And I don’t want to risk losing all that just to get glory in the eyes of Ilia and fellow Ilians. But if that’s wrong, I suppose I must go fight.”

Minerva shrugged. She felt quite lukewarm and ambivalent to the whole matter. In fact, if it interested her, she might go fight for a while, or she might not. It was entirely dependent on her whim and the way the breeze of Fate blew. But right here, right now, she only wanted to enjoy a meal with her intoxicating companion.

The waiter arrived with two steamed fish, bowing and placing them on the table, and Minerva smiled, giving another laugh.

“I hope you like trout, Ravvus. Apparently, it’s a specialty, and the trout found in the rivers around here are reputed to have especially firm and flavorful flesh. It certainly looks delicious – and believe me, by staring at you, I’ve worked up quite an appetite!”

The mage winked at Ravvus, her trademark, and then her eyes widened, and she quickly reached into her bag, pulling out her tome and opening it to a page near the rear, which had originally been blank but was now covered with scribbles and runes.

“I found these inscriptions in the Ilian temple where the ice guardian stood. Tell me, do you understand any of them? What does it look like to you? What can you make out of them?”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Ravvus' cheeks flushed with a dark shade of red. ”Ha.” A single laugh escaped the mage. He bashfully avoided looking at Minerva. ”So overt. You don't have any trouble at all making me blush, do you?”

The mage nodded in agreement. ”Hmmm.” He hummed thoughtfully, mulling over Min's conflicted outlook. ”Well, whatever you do, do be careful. War is a dangerous thing... and I find myself quite fond of- hmmm” Ravvus stopped himself, clearing his throat. The prospect of vocalizing his affection for the other mage caught him unexpectedly flustered. ”That is to say I enjoy when we meet like this...” No, that wasn't right either. The mage had trouble believing that he was so tongue-tied. Saint's sake, he and Min had seen each other naked. It was not as if she was oblivious to his fondness for her. ”Well,” He began, having given up on trying to find the right words. ”Just be safe. Don't, uh, don't put yourself in harms way if you don't have to...” The mage rubbed the base of his nose, shyly avoiding eye contact with Minerva. ”Of course, who am I to lecture you on surviving, right? You managed to escape a wyvern, and I know, based on our spar, that you handle yourself well in a fight.” The mage beamed at her. ”You'll be fine.”

The smell of cooked flesh wafted through the air, gracing Ravvus' nose with it's scent. The mage turned to see a pair of seared fish atop a silver platter. The mage licked his lips. Now that looked like something he wanted to eat. Eyes transfixed, Ravvus followed the main course as it was placed on the table. Minerva through another flirt his way, causing the blond to roll his eyes and become red in the cheeks once more. Grinning, Ravvus pressed both hands on his cheeks, as if physically trying to suppress his blush. Still smiling, Ravvus looked at Minerva, received a wink, and shook his head.

Ravvus' own eyes widened as Minerva practically shoved her magical manual in his face. ”Runes?” He inquired, placing his hands on the text. ”Hmmm... some of this looks familiar. It kind of looks like the language used in our basic magic manuals, like Trinity or Fire. But it's different. It's like... it's like..." Ravvus drummed his fingers along the table. ”Well, honestly, it looks like a parent language. Like, the dialect found in our texts was derived from whatever language this is. Minerva this is...” The mage ran his fingers under the lines of text. ”Very interesting.”

[Minerva]

”So overt. You don't have any trouble at all making me blush, do you?”

“None at all, my dear. After all, it’s pretty easy – though don’t change, I think that’s cute too. Heh. You’re certainly self-conscious about things like that, but I don’t mind… You’re confident and quite the man when and where it counts. Hehe!”

The mage let another playful, light chuckle escape, and enjoyed a sip of wine before watching Ravvus gesticulate in a frustrated, hopeless attempt to voice something. His babbling made a lot of sense to Minerva, and for some reason, which she was sure she understood but didn’t want to acknowledge, it made her flush slightly too.

”Hmmm. Well, whatever you do, do be careful. War is a dangerous thing... and I find myself quite fond of- hmmm. That is to say I enjoy when we meet like this... Well, just be safe. Don't, uh, don't put yourself in harm’s way if you don't have to... Of course, who am I to lecture you on surviving, right? You managed to escape a wyvern, and I know, based on our spar, that you handle yourself well in a fight. You'll be fine.”

Minerva answered him quietly, thoughtfully, in a manner that was quite different from any normal mood she displayed.

“I’ll return safely. That I promise. And so must you…”

Thankfully, she was given a chance to escape herself when the fish arrived. It was delicious, and Ravvus’s interest in the tome provided a welcome change of the subject. But when he began to give his interpretation, the fish was forgotten, and the mage instead used a clean knife to poke at different parts in the mash of different symbols she had written.

“Exactly, exactly! That’s what I thought. It seems to be a different structure, a totally foreign syntax. But the ideas behind it remain the same. It’s as if we’ve been learning to read and speak, but all of the books we’ve been reading are missing words. These are the missing words, Ravvus. These complete Fimbulvetr. By modifying the existing framework spells we’ve been given, using these more specific runes, we can draw out its full potential. I just don’t know how! It’s anyone’s guess as to what each of these runes does, how it modifies the spell, what effects it will have… And there are so many possibilities, so many places to insert the rune. There are too many combinations to wildly guess. There must be something else we’re missing. I just don’t know what.

I’ve been scouring the images burned in my mind of the temple, but I don’t see anything that I clearly missed. In fact, these runes were inscribed on the wall, surrounding the true entrance to the pit where I found the guardian of ice. I entered through a back door, so to speak, by freezing an enchanted waterfall and jumping down the hole it left.

But the door itself wasn’t sealed with anything more than normal; all it took to open it once I found it was a simple invocation of Fimbulvetr as we know it. I just can’t determine what I’ve missed. How do these runes fit into our existing alphabet?”

[Ravvus Wiseau]

The mage's hands were folded under the table, out of sight. He stared back at his companion with a pair of shy, pleading eyes. ”Ok.” A brief silence followed and a reserved smile planted itself across his face. ”Thanks.”

Ravvus placed the text on the table and reclined in his seat. Contemplatively, the mage rested his hands, folded, against the tip of his nose. His eyes scoured the tome, hungrily analyzing the images sketched into the coarse paper. The inscriptions were so similar, yet so different from what he was familiar with. Amazing; The only word Ravvus had to describe it. An entire language unknown to the world of anima. What he and Minerva had between them may well have been the progenitor of anima magic. It could revolutionize the magical world.

“Completing fimbulvetr.” The mage leaned against his chair, placing his hands on the back of his head. ”What would that even look like?” Ravvus muttered. ”Would the ice become colder, would casting the spell become less of a strain on the conjurer, would it be as simple as an increase in quantity summoned?” He stared past Minerva, playing out different scenarios in his mind. The mage stroked his chin thoughtfully ”And surely the temple you found was not the only one of its' kind. There must be other temples for other disciplines of anima. Hmmm...” He listened intently to Minerva, before leaning forward, bookmarking the runed page with one hand, and flipping through the tome with another. ”The text you've written here. Is this the order you saw the runes written in? Were there any recognizable known fimbulvetr runes accompanying it? Maybe there's an incantation in here which matches up with the old language.” Ravvus cocked his head to the side. ”Older language."

[Minerva]

“Completing Fimbulvetr… What would that even look like? Would the ice become colder, would casting the spell become less of a strain on the conjurer, would it be as simple as an increase in quantity summoned? And surely the temple you found was not the only one of its' kind. There must be other temples for other disciplines of anima. Hmmm... The text you've written here. Is this the order you saw the runes written in? Were there any recognizable known Fimbulvetr runes accompanying it? Maybe there's an incantation in here which matches up with the old language. Older language."

Minerva nodded along with Ravvus, her eyes sparkling as she considered the various scenarios he had put forth. They were all good ideas, valid ‘enhancements’ to the spell’s already considerable power. But from what she had heard of the legend…

“I think the whole idea of completing the spell is less about ‘unlocking’ more power and more about really understanding the nuances of the spell. We know the common uses, the prewritten incantations, the method for calling it forth and maintaining it for use in battle and for utilitarian purposes. But I believe these inscriptions really are meant to help us understand the crux of Fimbulvetr, the power that it has when it is drawn forth in its purest form. I believe that if we can understand this, that is what we will be able to call out. The true, unaltered form of Fimbulvetr… the magic of ice, able to be manipulated to our exact desire, to the precise specification we require.”

The mage closed her eyes briefly, recalling in her unusual memory the details of the room, of the runes marked upon the obelisk of ice. Yes, indeed. She had transcribed the entire text, in its precise orientation.

“Yes, Ravvus. This is all of it, exactly as it was.”

Minerva muttered to herself, turning the page, looking at the runes from different angles, scribbling different arrangements, and in general working hard to decipher any sort of meaning from the runes. She could find none. Was she overthinking this? What could this possibly mean?

“Ravvus. The…structure. Of the runes. All together. Does… does that remind you of something?”

Minerva was beginning to have crazy thoughts, ridiculous ideas that had no founding. What if the trick wasn’t in the runes at all? Could there be more to it? How could she cut to the core of Fimbulvetr? What was Fimbulvetr? Simply the power of ice…and its liquid form. Water.

[Ravvus Wiseau]

Ravvus' mind was elsewhere, dwelling on the possibility of other temples. Ever since discovering his talent for anima magic, he had wanted to master the elements. Wanted total control over Gaea, Thoron, Fimbulvetr, Volcanon, and Excalibur. Wanted to compile those five tomes into a single book and share that knowledge with the world. He'd yet to try his hand at a single one of them. He knew for a fact that he could barely summon wind spells and that the magics of fimbulvetr too were far from his reach. The mage had his work cut out for him in that department. Summoning a single flake of snow with Hailstorm was going to be the mage's hardest task to date. And then he'd have to learn the magics of Excalibur, and before that he'd need to obtain an Excalibur tome. And after that he'd need to repeat the process for the other major tomes. In the event he did accomplish his goal and created the Book of Colors, the magic would still be incomplete without the runes from the other hidden temples. Ravvus rolled his eyes, glaring at the ceiling. His monumental task was now that much larger.

He hadn't caught everything Minerva had mentioned. Ravvus was in his own world. She said something about accessing a 'pure' form- was that the term she used? A 'pure' form of fimbulvetr. What did that even mean? What was Minerva getting at it? The more Ravvus thought about it the more confused he became. ”I... uh” He stuttered, bemoaning his current position. If only he'd been at the temple with Minerva, maybe he might have picked up on something she missed. The mage looked back at the text. Then again, maybe all he needed was to keep studying the runes. But in the mean time. ”I'm sorry Min, I'm drawing blanks."