Pandora's Awakening [Althea/Ascher]

[Althea]

She hadn't... really... wanted to come back to Bern in the first place, after all that malarkey with Shara, and the observatory. Unfortunately reality had disagree with her desires; the legendary Etheria Academy library was quite thoroughly off limits to Elder magic users, or rather one was likely to be burnt at the stake as soon as the fanatics ruining the country found out you were there. And there weren't many other good libraries in Elibe that contained truly ancient materials. Most had been destroyed during the Scouring - which hadn't succeeded, she thought; Shara and Jalid both were proof dragons were real. That they could walk among humans, looking like them, acting like them. That they were, perhaps, not really all that different after all. That had been part of her hidden motivation to engage with this silliness. But the other...

She looked up at the more than a dozen books strewn across the table, silently cursing each and every one of their authors. Few had offered anything useful, and none had given her the information she sought. Of course, she hadn't been expecting that much. This forgotten laboratory deep beneath Bern - no one had ever found it. Only whispers and shades from the darkest depths of history, perhaps even more of a fool's errand than Nan Madol. But reading a very rare piece of pre-scouring literature some time back, she had been struck by a claim that it was a place where monsters had been born.

Not THE source of all monsters, she had decided; few claimed to know that, and none had any evidence of their claims. But if it was possible to create monsters, that offered two possibilities. One, that she could greatly improve upon Fenrir magic. While not her discovery, she was fascinated by the concept, and how Drei had used it - but what if instead of shares, those principles could be used to create actual creatures of flesh and sinew to defend the caster? Certainly it had likely been possible sometime before the Scouring, but the knowledge had long since been lost.

And... if it was true. If one could truly master that magic. Perhaps it would be possible to defend Elibe with that power. Perhaps Elder magic could be the savior of this world, rather than the source of its damnation. She certainly didn't have the power to summon that many creatures even if it was possible, but maybe in large numbers, with Ereshkigal's help, it might be possible to use these creatures as tools against wild creatures rather than risking human lives.

But first she had to find out if there was any bloody information on this demon's laboratory in the entire library. And right now, all signs pointed to 'maybe'. Of course, she had wanted to look for information on dragons too, which had greatly amused the assistant the academy had lent to her in return for one lecture that had gotten her more dirty looks than applause. But at this point, Althea took those reactions, not negatively, but as challenges. People might think her kind to all be monsters, and perhaps she was a freak, but she knew good people like Drei and Ereshkigal who deserved far better than the treatment they received.

And it had secured her access to the restricted section of the library - where tomes on dark magic had been locked away alongside far more interesting bits of history.

[Ascher]

"You seem frustrated."

The words were spoken gently, yet, it was not the gentleness of a father's sympathy. Rather, the words were possessed of a resonate undertone that somehow softened the bluntness of the remark without treading into the realm of condescension. They had been given voice from the next table over, one on which several stacks of books were neatly arrayed in a line. The secrets of three such manuscripts lay open before the table's lone occupant - a middle-aged mage with a scarred face, his long hair tied back in a queue. In another setting, his tunic and trousers would likely have marked him as a townsman or craftsman - even his mage's cloak could easily have been mistaken for that of a traveler, with a little added dust.

And yet... there was a solidarity to him. Each stroke of the pen was cautious, yet deliberate, as if the pages of the battered journal were precious. Odd, that the commoner - for his lack of gilded finery undoubtedly marked him as being of common stock - would have achieved the fluidity that he exhibited in his calligraphy. Though... perhaps it was not too surprising, given the nature of the tomes which he had somehow eased from the overprotective librarians. Mizelle... Cophdon... Rothwright...even Emarran's "A Treatise of Wind and Cloud" - these authors were rarely of interest to lower-tier students for anything other than punishment essays. Gauging from the array of authors and texts that had been selected, the mage - for who else would have cause to be reading anything by Rothwright, or want to for that matter - had some experience with the elements. One could reasonably suspect that was why he was permitted access to the works of Rothwright and Emarran in the first place, as both collections were housed in the restricted section.

The man carefully scattered sand atop the sheet of parchment he had finished inscribing, scanning the page for clumping before turning away from the journal. His expression was not as guarded as one might otherwise expect around a practitioner of dark magic, yet it lacked the innocence or extremes of confidence - or the extreme lack thereof - that so often infected even the older students at the Imperial Academy. With a bit of a grimace, the man pushed himself gingerly to his feet. It wasn't that he was getting old, persay... merely sitting for an extended period of time, in deference to the studious perseverance which his task demanded. Yes, that was it - or so he told himself. That, or he had forgotten to pack the bottle of salve that Old Myra had insisted on using back in the forests. Or perhaps simply forgotten to use it. Ah, well. His things would need retrieving eventually, anyway - even if it'd take a wyvern to cart the loads back and forth to Bern.

"Your pardon, miss." The mage offered a slight half-bow, before gesturing toward the texts which lay upon Althea's table. "You have the look of a researcher who is missing a very specific piece of whatever puzzle they have found for themselves." The man gently overlaid one hand over the other, his feet roughly shoulder-width apart, and couldn't help but smile. "I find myself at the service of the librarians in return for their forbearance in my own research. Shelving books, mostly, and offering assistance with a few projects. Perhaps I might be able to help you find something...?"

[Althea]

Seem frustrated? She WAS frustrated. Althea's eyes flickered over towards the source of the voice, scanning for threats as she strove and failed to extricate herself from the single minded focus that was her wont. She had known this would be an arduous task long before coming here, and yet - perhaps it was Ereshkigal's influence, the flighty fool who had long since drifted off to sleep rather than suffer through the dreadful boredom of reading a good book, or five. The spirit's coming had changed her as much as she had perhaps done the same in turn. It was uncomfortable in a way, how sometimes she hardly felt like she was herself in her own body, but rather someone else in a body not their own. She didn't believe she was fusing with the spirit, but having a head-mate, nigh onto a sister of sorts, was a transformative experience - and one she might never be able to write about, much less convey. 'Local dark mage possessed by evil spirit and burned at the stake' rolled off the tongue uncomfortably well, far more so than any of the alternatives.

The albino sighed, realizing her focus had been broken anyways; that it had latched on to another train of thought was of little respite when it was not a useful one. While it was perhaps the fault of the rough-looking man before her, he had not attacked nor injured her, aside from perhaps her pride, and at this point she hardly had the excuse of focus to ignore him. As easy as it would be... but while it was doubtful he could be useful, it would be rude to treat him as nothing. And perhaps all she needed was some time to recollect herself and reorient her analysis before diving back in. Un-tensing her shoulders, belatedly realizing they had been brought up slightly since being startled, she tore herself from the page and regarded the approaching man with a blank expression. Perhaps an instructor or staff member at the academy. She hadn't seen him during her small tour earlier, if he had been there during her attempt at a speech she hadn't noticed him, but he didn't look much like one of the students flitting around with idealism and excitement held close to their breast.

While far enough that she couldn't make out much of what he had been reading, and not nearly knowledgeable about Anima literature enough to necessarily guess, it was clear he was here to research in depth as well, and her time with Drei had taught her that it could be interesting to engage other mages... sometimes... "Ah... hello," she offered lamely and belatedly, an attempt at manners from someone who was only partially there and still trying to draw the rest of themselves in. Missing a piece of the puzzle? Well, yes, assuming there even truly was a puzzle to discover. She had been disappointed many times before, cast aside by fate and circumstance. Nan Madol had turned up precious little, but at least her adventures with Bryn had turned up further clues... a project to be returned to. Her investigation into Tir na Nog had gone poorly overall, when the damnable Mauthe Doogs had attacked her and Talus, but she had sensed something about the massive stone monoliths that bore further study.

This... she wasn't even sure if this was where she would find the clues she desired. But what else was new in this age of forgotten lore? "And - thank you. For your offer. But if what I desired was here, that puzzle would have been solved long ago; I am but scraping the scraps of what clues may lead me to the information I seek."

...If dragons still existed, was Arcadia real as well? She glanced down at the odd mix of tomes and papers spread across her work area, trying to keep from getting too distracted. "Though if you happen to predate the Scouring and have intimate knowledge of everything that has happened in the last few millennia, that would be exceedingly helpful." Her tone wasn't harsh and she didn't consider it sarcasm - she DID talk to someone who had technically existed for thousands of years on a regular basis. She didn't consider how it might come off as a rather strange joke, though.

[Ascher]

The long-haired man was somewhat taken aback as the young woman reluctantly tore her gaze away from the texts that lay scattered across her table. She was more youthful than he expected, for someone who had gained access to the restricted archives of the Imperial Academy. Moreover, the frankness of her dissembling suggested that she had done exactly that - no student who had found their way into the restricted archives would've had the confidence to engage with an unfamiliar mage therein. There was too much risk of discovery, even if they got in and out unseen - too much risk of that mage speaking of them to the instructors or librarians.

No, this one was legitimate. Cautious, perhaps - but legitimate nonetheless.

Ascher straightened, concluding the polite half-bow that was customary in the Academy. He was surprised that she had not returned the courtesy, but not unpleasantly so - standing on ceremony often tended result in far less progress than would otherwise have been achieved. Regardless, her actions - and a brief, searching glance - suggested that the researcher was likely not affiliated with the institution, at all. This, in turn, could possibly have contributed to part of the frustration that was exhibited. The archives were extensive, even after years of Ilian control, and attempting to find small pieces of information was akin to seeking a specific pebble among the cobblestones of the Royal Way. Not impossible, but quite difficult unless one knew where to look.

Now that he had approached, it became readily apparent that the man was certainly not a student. At least, not of the sort which one saw scurrying about in their school-issued robes with leather-bound tomes tucked under their arms. A male in his mid-thirties, he was hardly the image of the traditional entrant. He could pass as an errant mage or an itinerant scholar, despite the scar that traced deeply across his features. His garb was simple, but clean - devoid of the gold piping that identified the institution's sages and of the shining cloak-pins that gave the Imperial Mage-Knights such pride. It was possible that he was a guest lecturer or one of the Academy's graduates... but then, wouldn't he have been in uniform?

"Ah... hello." The mage couldn't help but offer a small, sympathetic smile as he nodded in response. "And - thank you. For your offer. But if what I desired was here, that puzzle would have been solved long ago; I am but scraping the scraps of what clues may lead me to the information I seek." A matter of analysis more than research, perhaps? Identification of information gaps was something he might be able to help with... at the least, it would give him some time away from his own readings to clear his head and find his bearings before digging back in. "Though if you happen to predate the Scouring and have intimate knowledge of everything that has happened in the last few millennia, that would be exceedingly helpful."

It... wasn't a hostile response, precisely. There was an undertone of sincerity that suggested the young woman truly was searching for information that either predated the Scouring or was so highly specific as to not be easily accessible. It would have been relatively simple for her to have waved him off, which - in turn - suggested that she was not strictly averse to engaging with him on the topic of her research. There was always the odd chance that she was toying with him... but, ultimately, he didn't mind. One evening's worth of time lost would likely save him a great deal more in the future, were it to be proven that the young woman preferred to be left to her own devices.

"I'm afraid I graduated just after the Civil War, miss,"  the long-haired mage responded with a quick smile, his empty hands remaining in clear view. Some people got touchy around certain subjects - it was always better to err on the side of caution, just in case one unknowingly mentioned something distasteful to others. "Nor is history my subject of expertise - vital, though it is, to one of my areas of recent study." He eyed the eclectic scattering of papers and manuscripts, hands coming to clasp one another gently before him. "..." After a heartbeat of contemplation, Ascher gave voice to his thoughts - seeking the phrasing to convey his point of view without... well, sounding like an opinionated buffoon. He did not appreciate it when others did it to him, and he endeavored to show others the same courtesy. "I have found that talking through a subject with someone often leads to surprising breakthroughs... unless you wish to be left to your affairs?"