Welcome to Gaia! ::

Happy of my company and tolerant of it are two different things, and most are simply tolerant.

Zekiel eyed his friend. Was that truly what he thought? That most only tolerated his presence? He understood that some persons were especially modest and might understate the truth to avoid sounding overly self-important, but this seemed to be more than that, as little sense as it made. People were happy to see Tacrith—they must be, as much good as he did.

But then, he shifted the topic, and Zekiel’s mind being as it was moved on readily, latching onto the question and forgetting his musings a moment prior.

“Oh, I would wish to learn about anything or everything,” he said.

It wasn’t, perhaps, the most helpfully specific. When he thought on it, though, he wasn’t sure what overlapped between them. For the Sanctum, he studied scripture, history, and ritual. For the clinic, he suspected that Tacrith studied medicine, the physical body, and remedial magics. He had suggested they study together only on the idea that it was something Tacrith enjoyed; how it might be managed ‘together’ in practice was another question entirely.

“It is something that pleases you, so I wished to share in it with you. But we might do anything else you liked—have you been fishing?”

“I have!” Zekiel answered. “I grew up by the sea, when I was quite small, and on especially good days I could go out with Marleya onto the piers. I could teach you to fish, if you haven’t. It isn’t so hard at all, and when you do you can see the great sea stretch out toward the ends of the sky, and let your legs over the pier’s edge, and watch the sun’s light walk on water…”

After a moment, he blinked, pulling his focus back to the moment and glancing to Tacrith. “Perhaps when we go to meet with Marleya we may then. There are many places to fish. You could teach me something else I don’t know? A game. Or a magic spell.”

No one in the Sanctum performed magic, and Zekiel was no exception. He wasn’t certain what was necessary to bend the gods’ elements or to channel energy beyond the body to speed healing, but he was fairly certain he had none of it. That didn’t make the concept any less fascinating, and it must be interesting to learn a hint perhaps of how it worked. To him, with no understanding of the practice, it seemed most analogous to a ritual or prayer, but with a very different set of processes and powers called upon for the result.

You don't have magic so far as I know, so teaching you a spell would be impossible…

Zekiel’s mouth made a small ‘oh,’ and he listened as Tacrith explained. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to replicate whatever Tacrith did. It wasn’t his path to actually cast, and some in the church’s walls even frowned upon it, believing it to be an unnatural manipulation of powers meant to be reserved to the gods. But it still fascinated him, and he had thought perhaps he could see how it was done, even if he couldn’t.

Tacrith, though, seemed to have another thought in mind, and Zekiel’s attention was quick to latch on the new task, following Tacrith as he went to fetch the mug and return. At the inquiry, however, his attention moved to the mug. Was it a riddle? He tipped his head, considerate.

“With a straw,” he said, “or a spoon, I could I think.” Did it count if the spoon touched? He flushed. “I cannot without, though.”

Zekiel listened, watching with intent as Tacrith reached for the mug, but paused with his hands hovered just overtop it. When they began to glow, Zekiel felt his cheeks warm with silent, giddy interest, his eyes locked to the process in fascination. His lips made an ‘o’ as it began to bubble and steam—and gradually, as promised, it vanished, roiling and evaporating down to nothing but a heated cup.

Zekiel glanced up though at the question, from the mug to Tacrith. Back into the mug?

The air was muggy about them now, misty with dampness forcibly saturated into it. “If it became cold again…” he said. Wouldn’t that return it? But perhaps not. Generally, he thought of the gods as controlling the rain and sky — and everything thereunder. What needed to be done to the elements to make them act as willed was another question entirely. “Can you pull it from the air by bringing all of the parts back together?”

Zekiel was under the impression at least that even when manipulated, the water was not gone. Tacrith had not made it cease to exist. As he had said, it was out there—simply suspended now in the space around them.

As the water gathered back from the air, cloistering around Tacrith’s hand and condensing there back into visible liquid before dripping to the cup again, Zekiel thought that this truly was magic: to take the gods’ elements and apply the laws of nature, but with one’s own hand, instead of relying or waiting upon the forces beyond. Perhaps that was why magic had the potential to be so dangerous—a process of toying with matters usually in the sole jurisdiction of powers beyond mortal men.

Even if this experiment was significantly smaller scale.

He was sure, though, that nothing Tacrith did offended the gods. They had vested this power within him, after all. “It’s strange and wondrous to see,” he said. “The gods have trusted you with great power.”

“Certainly,” Zekiel said, “if you like. Though I am sure it would serve you just as well tomorrow.”

He did, though, take a portion as offered so that excess would not go to waste, and after portioning and packaging that to bring with him, he said his goodnights and bid Tacrith farewell at the door with ample thanks for his hospitality. It was strange, he thought on his walk home, how Tacrith had managed to seclude himself away from so many persons. But it had been a good night, and Tacrith’s agreement to future engagements together was at least promising. Eventually, surely, he would make other friends if encouraged and with the opportunity before him.

Until then though, at least he had Zekiel, and he supposed that there was a sort of special honor to be had in regard to that in itself—that Tacrith had let him in to this apparently exclusive club despite reservations towards everyone else. Tacrith’s friendship, as described, was a rare treasure after all.