Jaxen made sure to hide his uncertainty behind a gossamer smile. The guy didn't sound too convinced about his so-called titles, but what else was there to call it? Jaxen was actually quite alright with being called a god.
Tarin put his hand on Jaxen's forehead like he were seeking a fever, which given his history was not too alien an idea, but a sensation rippled like worms under his skin and Jaxen immediately tensed, poised to spring up and round a defense against the man. The accompanying sharpness in his eyes was dangerous, even if his tongue forked silvered coaxing, but he gripped the armrests and remained still. "Shouldn't you buy me dinner before mind raping me?"
Whatever Tarin did, it was over fast, and Jaxen sat back in his seat, considering, but not particularly aggressive. He still felt like himself, and if his good bits had been swirled around inside, he couldn't tell.
So they called him Tarin. What a strange ass name. Then again, given the circumstances, his name fit right in.
In turn, Jax drummed his fingers on the arm rests and crossed one leg over the other. His cashmere coat fell away at his waist, and the sinuous lines of a tattoo peeked across his chest, obfuscated by the opacity of his shirt. He had a moderate to slender build, one that fit with the charming way in which he wormed into the center of people's attentions. He was additionally a pleasing looking fellow on the eye, but when the intensity of his focus turned on Tarin, it swallowed the man whole. Judging by Jaxen's posture and clear-eyed gaze, there was little else but the two of them.
"Let's see. Back home they call me all kinds of fond pet names. I think my last lay called me a 'precious little flower.'"
A showman's grin flashed, but only to transform into a simpler answer. Tarin had outright asked his name, after all. "But in regular circumstances, my name is Jaxen."
He was proud of his name. It slid across the tongue like a finger on ice: smooth and chilling.
The older man lowered his hand and took in the tension emanating from the younger.
“Jaxen is it? You do be quite right, Jaxen. There did be a day I would no heal so much as a cut without first seeking your permission. These days many of the formalities begin to fall away.”
He cocked his head in a bow which imparted an apology with no lessening of his authority.
“I promise no harm did be done you.”
Tarin stood, walked to the mantle and selected a carved ivory pipe.
“You do be curious and if I do read you right, likely as no to get into trouble trying to find your way in the world as you be. That do be why I exist, to help you find your way.”
He nodded to a tray of food sitting on the table at Jaxen’s side.
“Help yourself if you like. Healing do take energy. Eat while I talk, if it do please you.”
The smells from the domed tray on the table were tantalizing. Tarin filled his pipe from a silver cask, lighting it with a flame that appeared to hover over the bowl. Moments later the flame disappeared and Tarin walked back to his seat, puffing on his pipe with satisfaction.
“First, this place.”
He gestured to the room with a wave.
“You do no longer be in your own world, or rather you do be in an unseen part of the world, call it a dream. I can no explain more.”
His face seemed sorrowful.
“There do be much I can no explain.”
He sighed heavily and went on.
“I do be here to help you with important first steps for one like you, so that you might live. The rest,”
he shrugged,
“the rest you do have to rediscover on your own, and Fortune help you.”
He crossed his leg over a knee.
“So, the beginning. Do you be in control of what you do?”
Try as he might, Jaxen's attention drifted. The guy was painful on the ears, and Jaxen was growing bored anyway. The novelty of strangeness was wearing away.
The sudden scent of food stirred uncomfortable emptiness he didn't realize he had until just then. The fact that the food had manifested out of nothingness where an empty table sat before only made him hesitate a second or two.
A lift of the dome later and his eyes devoured the meal. Whether or not it was real, he could care less at the moment. A slab of steak, perfectly cooked, tasted divine.
Tarin went on about more abstract emo nonsense that Jaxen didn't bother trying to interpret. He chewed on a snag of buttered roll while he pondered the guy's question. It had pulled Tarin's face wan and drawn. Really needed to lighten up. For an AI, he had some serious emo programmed into him. Yeah, AI. Jax figured this was something like the matrix, and Tarin was some sort of program: living, breathing men did not talk about their 'sole purpose for existing'.
"What can I do, hm?"
He asked in response, mouth half-full of fluffy bread-roll as he did.
As always, that light hovered on the edge of his senses. He focused on it until it was blinding, and at the very moment he was sure to be incinerated, he clawed at it and bent it to his will. The domination of it ebbed and flowed like a thunderstorm through his body, and it thrilled him with a self-satisfying smirk.
He popped the rest of the roll in his mouth and looked around. Near the window was a marble table that held a statue of birds in flight. The thing looked heavy. Probably was expensive too. Perfect.
With a flick of his mind, power rushed through him, yet he remained perfectly still but for chewing on his roll. Moments later, the statue teetered off its perch and crashed to the floor. Jax snorted a laugh at the sound and returned his attention to the food.
The elder man remained still as he replied around his pipe stem.
“Well enough then. You do know enough to keep from intentionally killing yourself or someone else. Now,”
he grinned,
“we do talk about what you do no be knowing.”
“The Power do be two halves, male and female. They do no work the same. You will no find a man wielding the female half and a woman can no wield the male half. A man and a woman can do great things if they work together, but that do be legend and I can no tell you anything more about that. There do be five parts to the Power: Fire, Earth, Spirit, Air and Water. Men do be stronger in the first two than women, though, to be fair, they do be stronger in the latter two. Spirit divides about even.”
Tarin stood and walked over to look out of the window.
“Each part of the power do feel and look different from the others; When you weave, or see someone else’s weaving you will be able to tell what they did use to some degree.”
He turned and eyed Jaxen sharply.
“The Power do no make you a god, so do no go trying to toss yourself off buildings or thinking you can no die like anyone else. The Power do give you longer years to live than any, but an idiot with a rock can end those years as easily as anything else.”
He drew heavily on his pipe, exhaling a lazy blue curl.
“This do be a lot of information boy and I do no want you to miss any. Do you have questions, ask them. There do be much to go over before you do go.”
Edited by
Sora Ryuu, Oct 7 2014, 01:12 PM.
A smirk. Killing someone else - intentionally or unintentionally. As good as a gold star in Jaxen's book. He wasn't fond of killing people. Himself most of all. He liked to think he'd be deliberate if the need ever arose.
He crossed his legs, settled into the seat like it were his own. Wisdom was coming, apparently. Best he paid attention. Which he did. He was certainly paying attention, not thinking about which trinket around him was the best candidate to smuggle into a pocket before the day was done.
So. Parts of their power. He'd figured that much out. Although the names Tarin assigned to each were fitting. There were other little tidbits Jaxen absorbed. Tarin referred to casting about their magic as weaving. And something about women blah blah.
Then came the rebuke. They weren't gods. Kind of a disappointment. Jaxen was half-attached to the idea of godhood. Then again, divinity was a rather shit-assignment. He had enough ego to live on the rest of his life. Which Tarin had something to say about that as well. Jaxen's brows rose, truly interested for the first time in the lecture. "Longer years, you say? What do you mean? How long? People have been living well into their 90's for decades now. But I don't want to be a wrinkled old man peeing into a plastic bag forever."
Then came the thought. How old was Tarin? Assuming an AI would assign himself an age. Jax had to wonder.
Tarin chuckled silently.
“Do no fear that. The years will pass you lightly enough lad. Oh, wrinkles will come and grey hairs too, but by the time the first one do appear there will no be anyone you know today around to jibe you about it.”
He waved a hand as if it was of no real consequence.
“If you do wish to live those years, remember this: To draw in more of the power than you do be able to handle can either burn the ability from you or simply kill you. You cannot use the Power up. It be a fire, you be the lantern. But beware. The Power do be highly addictive. Hold it too often, for too long, use it too freely and you be likely to fall prey to the addiction. You do be blessed with great Power and with it comes great responsibility. Use it wisely.”
Serious eyes stared at Jaxen, sizing him up and weighing whether he would be true to what he was being taught. His expression remained grave, his surmise hidden.
“I will teach you how to weave a shield. No a pleasant thought to consider, but the Power can be taken from you. A shield can separate you from the source for a time. Be warned; weave it too sharp and the source can be severed from a person…permanently. It do be both a weapon for defense and offense. Watch closely.”
Tarin seized the Power and wove Spirit to form a shield. He talked while he wove slow enough for Jaxen to follow.
“Shielding a person who is holding the source do be more difficult than shielding them by surprise. It do be like closing a door on a person; it do be easier if the person do no be in the doorway at the time.”
Shield formed, the rounded edge slid towards Jaxen to separate him from the source.
“Do no resist. A man do need to feel a shield from the other side at least once in his existence.”
He'd grow old someday after everyone he knew today was long gone. Jaxen was good with that. But if he wanted to keep on breathing, he had to pay attention. Right. Tony had said as much, that this magic business could kill him almost as easily as someone else. Tony hadn't mentioned addiction though. Tarin's warning made some sense. Jaxen was eager to draw on the power whenever he could, and every time Tarin did, embers of jealousy stirred in his chest that it came so easily to the other man.
A wary gaze watched the construction of the shield. Tarin took his time about it, which Jaxen appreciated, but that he needed to have his hand held made him want to grind his teeth. But all things came with practice, he told himself. How many years did it take him to perfect his sleight of hand? This was no different. And Jax was a patient guy.
When the shield slid toward his head, Jax sprung to his feet and backed away.
"Not that I don't trust you, Tarin."
He laughed,
"But well, I don't trust you."
He put up his hands like he was trying to get the other man to ease off. Eyes flicked between the magical shield and the man that created it. His heart raced, but Jax kept light on the balls of his feet like he might run. Where to, he had no idea, but surely virtual reality windows could shatter like regular glass. A parkour aficionado didn't need much to scamper down the side of a wall.
Edited by
Jaxen Marveet, Nov 30 2014, 08:16 PM.
“You do no have cause to trust me, but if you do intend me to earn your trust I do have the time. Question do be if you be willing to spend the time required? Time here be different. Perhaps you do exercise a little faith, eh?”
Centuries of dealing with skittish initiates caused the shield to snap forward before Jaxen could do more than protest. The lad had good instincts that would help him survive, but Tarin’s job was made no easier for it.
”Try to reach for the source now you be shielded.”
Knowing how a caged man feels, Tarin watched the whelp carefully. He could not come to harm but there had been a wilder or two who had tried in their panic to put paid to his account. His was a lonely existence, but the price was worth fathering the next generation of channelers. Perhaps they would return the Light into the World. Perhaps they would…
Jaxen exercised plenty of faith, and right where it should be. In himself.
Poised to run, his expression flickered doubtful when he realized Tarin was serious. Why would the man go through all the charade of being the benevolent teacher only to strike him down after? Running would do him no good, but Jaxen preferred to avoid a fight when possible. Especially when he knew he was out-gunned. He licked his lips and severed the tension with a slight smile. He could talk his way out of anything.
"Now, Tarin. You're a reasonable man-"
he started. But Tarin didn't listen. That sinister plate of power slammed into Jaxen, who kept his balance amid the shock.
He gaped when Tarin told him to take the power, and despite the instinct to hesitate, Jaxen grappled for it nonetheless.
His eyes flared when he found the way blocked. Jaxen dropped his arms to his side and nodded concession. "Alright. Well done. Lesson is taught, Tarin."
Jaxen stuffed his hands behind his back and strolled aside. In the casual wandering around the room, he kept talking as he examined trinkets displayed here and there. "Time passes differently here, I see. If you're alive, despite your long years, and warn me of gods and men and powers, then time must pass here much more slowly than it does in the real world. I'm sure Einstein has some theory about why, but I could care less. Something to do with the speed of light and gravitational pull."
He shrugged and picked up a small sculpture carved from some sort of purple stone. He didn't recognize the stone, but it felt familiar.
"So that means every minute that passes here might be days or god-forbid, years, in the real world. And not the Naga-realm, I mean, my real world."
Fingers curled around the sculpture like a wand, he carried it with him, studying the strange shape, when he returned to Tarin.
"Who knows how long I've been missing."
Jaxen's gaze drifted from Tarin's as he realized something he hadn't meant to ask aloud. "I wonder if my father even noticed."
Probably not.
Jax smiled. "I think it's time I be going,"
he said, and struck out with the would-be weapon, aiming for Tarin's head.
Centuries spent at this task gave the philosopher keen insight into human behavior. There had been surprises through the years, especially in the beginning. Those had come mostly from wilders who had the ability to create new things unknowingly. Tarin loved wilders. Their surprises always opened untried areas of study. He stayed where he was, watching and listening to Jaxen as he talked. As suspected, the caged man struck out and Tarin divided his flows and wrapped Jaxen in air leaving only his head free without moving a muscle.
”It could happen that way, though I doubt months will pass unless you do be an excessively slow learner. It do flow the other way too. You might spend a week or two here and find that only four hours did pass where you do come from. There do no be a way to tell until you return.
He shrugged, unconcerned.
”Now, the lesson do no be taught. I did feel you touch the shield. Do it again slowly. It may take all your strength to get a shield I place but it do take much less power to maintain a shield once it do be in place. Strength do play its part. If you do be that much stronger than the other person you could break through their shield, but the margin do have to be considerable. Otherwise a much weaker opponent can hold you indefinitely.”
It was almost inevitable that Jaxen would try to break through. Tarin held in a sigh. The lad was shaping up to be one of those difficult ones who took three times the time they needed because of their inability to trust authority. This Age must be near lawless for so many to be so untrusting. He was on his guard for any more of the younger man’s mischief.
”A weave can be tied off, meaning you would no have to maintain it and you do be able to use your full strength elsewhere, but there do be hazards. Touch the shield again and then we will let you try the weave.”