scene with headmaster, ethric

With a few somber words, it is after some time the old man's head never turns, eyes never avert-

"Might I be of assistance?" It vibrates out more audibly, as eyes close. He hums, gently.
(Ethric Athelier)

Ambrose steps even closer.

With Ethric's attention on him, it would finally be something he could get over with - after all, the search for the Headmaster was not an easy one, let alone actually catching him still...

Active. Still up to any talk.

"Finally."

"I spent a while looking for you."

It could almost bring about annoyance even, but whatever he felt about having to search for Ethric for so long and all across Esshar was disregarded in favour of what he intended to do.

"You're a difficult man to find, Ethric."

"And everyone says you can be anywhere at any moment." As evident by the fact that this search took a little over the year..

That fact was actually true. Not even the Starfall staff knew where he is - and he asked.

"How?"
(Ambrose Roche)

The old man rocks onto the heels of his feet, after a final slap to Cedar's shoulder.

"I believe in you, Mister Grace. You know Miss Ektu can help you. You know you can fight them, together."

And then;

He spins.

It's an easy, steady motion. Hands fold behind him. Slitted eyes stare down- The old man on the taller side even for what looks to be a Drakanite, even if he is not truly hulking. Shoulders, broad. Expression- Distant. Empty. It doesn't quite match those words he spoke, even as his voice is a thrumming drone.

"Hm. Interesting. It is true."

"I am oft pulled in many directions, many places. I speak to as many as I can. I will usually seek out those whom call for me."

"It is true. I oft cross space."

"Most of the wayfinders of the modern era are the descendants of my students. It is not a secret. However, I mostly tend to listen. That is the true secret to be anywhere at any moment;"

"Merely predict where you will be needed, before it occurs."

"If you are going to ask me to instruct you, I advise mastering the basics- And, perhaps, beginning by asking Mister de Vir for instruction."
(Ethric Athelier)

He listens.

Most of the people that wielded that magic were the descendants through his effort, then? That would only imply that such was not necessarily difficult to master- or perhaps, his teachings were simply that good.

Eitherway, for what he needs in the future, that would become a necessity on its own.

"I see."

But that would be a chore, wouldn't it? Where he directs him towards another individual as a whole, it dawns on him that he already met de Vir before- albeit, not in circumstances that would call for anything that Ambrose required.

"..."

"Hm. He didn't look like the type to know anything about that."

Appearances can be deceiving though. Roche, of all people, should know that better than anyone...

"Where do I find him?"

A pause.

"And where do I find you, if I still need help?"

It's better to ask ahead of time.The last time he tried to seek out Ethric, it took a very long time. He can't afford wasting so much time again.
(Ambrose Roche)

"I do still always return unto the Academy."

"Merely, perhaps, at inopportune times. Nonetheless, a letter left in my office can often fetch me. I will generally teach particularly promising students of the Academy. Though, ah-" A pause, as eyes close momentarily, head cocking.

"I would generally need a reason or cause to teach someone such an art. I oft find it better to delegate."

"You are quite young. I advise working more on one's hobbies. The art requires an understanding of basic function and runecasting." His empty murmur continues onwards. "I do not mind pointing anyone in the direction of instruction, but."

"If you intend to apply yourself, it is not my place to gatekeep beyond the investment of time and attention they would ask from me, for some measure of equal value."

"And I do not truly value coin."
(Ethric Athelier)

Was this the only focus that Ambrose had?

No, not quite. Not even close, in fact. As much as Ethric spoke of various descendants of such magic being all around, in truth, he believed that there would be effort necessary to master something like that.

There always is.

"I already worked on my hobbies."

"I went through many side-things in particular, and improved myself on various subjects, but hm..." No, that was still not enough. He moved up in progression quickly- very, very quickly, but it still didn't matter.

More effort required.

"And something of equal value..."

That gives him a pause. The coin is not a subject of interest - and Ethric explicitly stated that he would need a reason and a cause to lecture someone.

If at all.

"--And what that could possibly be?"

He takes a hint. There is, obviously, more to this than just that. There's likely bound to bean equal exchange of some sort.
(Ambrose Roche)

"A reason to care."

Palms up.

"Make me care about you. Give me cause to wish to train you. Who are you? What would you use said power for?" His head tilts- Locks marred with ivory from what was once ebony tumble down over his shoulder. "I act on what passion there is in the world, to see potential realized."

"But, power is a means to an end. Not an end in and of itself. I am uninterested in those who seek power for powers' sake."

"I care for humans who make the world, in some way, progress. I care for humans who care in turn."

"Perhaps you meet these requirements; Perhaps you do not." He straightens- Arms fold back behind him. "You are not enrolled. I am unfamiliar with your name- Though, I have seen you within Osrona amidst the crowds in the aftermath."
(Ethric Athelier)

"Hm.."

There's a thoughtful hum given to these words. It's fair enough, but at the same time, Ambrose merely gives a remark in return.

"Giving you a reason to care about something implies knowing what you care about."

"I don't know you."

Is it admitting to a defeat? Not quite. It's admitting to a fact that he doesn't have all the means to make that happen - at least, not yet. Not until he knows more.

"I am Ambrose Roche." As for who he is exactly, or what he is- or what he does... that remains unspoken. With the things he had to live through ever since his earliest days..

He knew better than to give up everything.

"The rest.."

"It's a conversation for another place, and another time." Is it being purposefully evasive? To many, Roche's origins still remain unknown - even to those he calls friends.

Likely for a reason.

"And..."

"Unless you wanted to make that conversation in another place now.."

"I suppose the only means I have to keep going forward is to just show you a reason to care, yes?"

Actions speak louder than words, after all.
(Ambrose Roche)

"That is correct."

Lips do not upturn, but his tone, for a moment, variants up. "If you wish to learn from someone, you should trust them. Bonds, considerations- They matter. You should not present some false front to me- It is pointless."

"I will learn things in eventuality."

"I do not grasp the point of trying to seize it otherwise. But, if that is what you prefer? Certainly." Massive hamhands, callused and weathers, flick out digits along strained, wrinkled knuckles.

"I do not think I am difficult to research, nonetheless- Nor are most." A soft, quiet sway. "But, personability does tend to be a trait I find positive." His head moves up and down, even as his upper body subtly lists left and right.

"I would not mind speaking in private, if you prefer. I seem to have answered most present of their quandaries and inquiries."

"I have those I must meet anon, but that is at another time."

"Do you prefer such a thing? I find it curious one must speak in private."
(Ethric Athelier)

There was always a reason behind such things.

But the fact that Ethric would speak that he'd find everything in eventuality is something that causes him to tilt his head. Was he more than a mere Academy Headmaster? Did his influence stretch even further?

After all... normally, Headmasters aren't the people of great renown that could reach just about anywhere.

"Hm..." As for him finding out eventually?

"You could. You most certainly could." But that does not mean others will do the same.

"But it's just like you said."

"Learning from someone requires a bond and considerations, yes?" He pause- albeit, with a tiny smile.

"All I ask is very little - that it is spoken in privacy."

And nothing else. For now, if they could actually afford the time to do so, then it's best to get that out of the way now.

"Yes."

"We could speak now."
(Ambrose Roche)

A soft, light shrug of his shoulders.

A subtle ease of shoulders. "Very well. Do you live within Osrona? I am afraid my place of residence is without- Though, I do not mind if you would prefer the Academy as a place to speak."

"Wherever is most convenient."

"I do not mind."

The old man, beyond such body language cues, might be somewhat difficult to read.
(Ethric Athelier)

The place?

Remembering where exactly he resides, it may not be a good idea. It's not that he belonged to any particular nation - whether it's Osrona, Moxtli, Achyon or even the Fireblooded. He did not belong to Shadowmire either.

It's... complicated.
But best saved for later.

"Mm.."

"The Academy will do. Any private room would."
(Ambrose Roche)

Ethric hums.

Ambrose says little, but brows raise independent of what he says. The old man merely reaches for his belt, withdrawing his journal from the metal hook in the binder, easily snapping onto his waist.

A motion of his thumb one-handedly opens it up, flipping between drawings, diagrams, and notes to settle on one of the pages in a spread of complex, webbing circles of runework. His other hand seeks out Rosemarin's own, tao take it."

His thumb pushes into one of the outer circles-

And mana alights along the rippling ink, subtly gleaming with more than just black- Small flecks in it refract and amplify the convocation.

In a flash of emerald-green light, they are gone...!
(Ethric Athelier)

And they are suddenly stepping down on different cobble. It is a flash- A whirl, a sense of disjunction and momentary fluttering in the pit of the stomach as the world melts away into light-

And reforms.

As though nothing happened, the old man strides forwards onto the campus.
(Ethric Athelier)

"..!"

It comes about as unexpected flash of light- emerald-green and dazzling, yet impossible for him to block out; what he expects is nothing but harm upon such display of magic, which may hint at his past - for his body instinctively tries to protect itself.

But where he raises his arms in 'defense' to try and shield his body and face alike...

There's no pain? Instead, they're transported elsewhere. He re-collects himself, and lowers his arms quickly. That was... a rather embarrassing display.

One he did not intend consciously.

"-- oh."

The Academy grounds. He can recognize those. Without a word, he follows Ethric.
(Ambrose Roche)

Leading him through the halls, they do not proceed onto a higher floor.

Instead, he leads them down into the east wing, with a hum- Opening the walnut door, it leads into a semi-traditional tearoom; Tables with accoutrements, rolling layered trays of ingredients, cups, and cooking materials for working with it.

Ethric does, however, lock the door behind them.

He heads over to a cushion- Comfortably folding lanky legs underneath himself as he reaches out for some of the trappings of the trade; A piece of rough, permeable cloth is cut into a neat square, and set out.

"Please, take a seat. Where would it feel comfortable for you to begin? For yourself? Or, do you prefer guided inquiries?" He asks. His tone doesn't shift, doesn't change. His face barely moves, though pupils narrow in focus on his work.

Multitasking does not seem to bother him.

Taking his time, he reaches to one of the nearby trays- A small, metal set of tongs gathers up browned and dried leaves from the jar, setting them into the center of a cheesecloth.

He seems to be reaching for other cuttings and peelings, as they talk...!
(Ethric Athelier)

This almost felt familiar.

Such dignified tea-rooms, all in traditional style, cozy and comfortable all the same. It gives him but a slightest pause, before he begins to move forward- his gaze falling onto Ethric momentarily while he takes a seat, and Ambrose mimics it.

Neatly folding the cloak under himself, he takes a seat on a cushion - carefully adjusting himself near the table, with mannerisms that almost could suggest a tint of nobility to them, but..

Given that his name is one unheard of on Esshar? He most certainly does not belong to any noble family; not local one, at least.

"...Before I begin." There's a pause.

"Can you promise me that you will not be telling this anyone else?" It may sound strange, but..

"The last time I shared a tale with Osronan, an Astor, he took it upon himself to forcibly take me to their city, because he thought it would be for the best."

"But it wasn't. They were toying with idea of locking me up just 'to be sure'. They wanted to make my struggle their own - despite having no rights to do so."

But where is he leading with this, exactly? Surely the explanation will follow, but..

"I trust that you will not make a rushed decision."

"But I cannot trust others if it reaches their ears. Not after they already failed my trust."
(Ambrose Roche)

Silence.

A pause.

A hum.

Time ticks, He works- Grabbing orange and lemon peels, apple skin cuttings, a few rose hips- All of them joining the grind of the tea in the cloth. He hums, softly, as he goes to fold it in, slipping a needle and thread to stitch it shut.

He tosses it into a teapot, shortly thereafter.

He eases back, glancing over as he pushes a small, slender metal slide on the table into position, letting it complete a runic etching that glows to life underneath the ceramic; A flick against the side fills it with water.

"Very well. The details of which you speak will not leave this room, of course-"

"But, having something to hide that could harm others is not generally a positive thing. Why is it your struggle? What precisely is the- As they say, issue?"

"My curiousity is intrigued."
(Ethric Athelier)

It's a fair point that he makes. But at the same time, there was a counter-argument that Ambrose had to it all.

"Maybe it's not a positive thing to hide something that could harm others."

"But it could harm me too. I think it's reasonable that I do not want to risk myself."

Especially this young. Who knows how others could react exactly? After all, the last time it was presented, such endeavour resulted in him almost being locked up in a city- just because Osronans wanted to, just because they decided it would be right.

By a stroke of luck it didn't happen, but what if it did?

There's a big, palpable pause. It's not easy for him to speak about this, but after a great inhale, finally he begins speaking. It would be a long story.

"...I come from Apropriya." He pauses. "I'm unsure if you're familiar with that place, but it's ruled by the Midnight Aristocracy."

To many, that would already raise them to arms- to many, they would already look upon Ambrose with zeal in their eyes and decide to cut him down right here and there.

Without ever hearing him out.

"But my family was their opposition."

"I was born to a couple of knights in the Order of the Silver Sun. They worship an angel named Soliel, but as much as she hears our pleas, she's among the weakest angels."

"She can only manifest her power during the day. And during the night..." His gaze trails elsewhere. It felt odd... to remember so little about his parents..

But remember that night all too well.

"They must hide. As it turned out, and I found out later, we had a traitor among us. He betrayed us and gave up our hideout location - in exchange of being spared by the Nobles."

"My parents didn't survive. I don't know if anybody survived at all - but I remember hearing... screams. Panic. Fighting.." He falls silent for a moment.

"And then someone bursted into my room. I was too little to fight back."

"Before I knew it, I was beaten and in chains - and on my way to Falkenrath."

A story of a slave. A slave to the Vampires- beaten and subjugated to the point of seeing even a sudden image or a sudden noise as attempt to assault him.

… perhaps that's why he instinctively cowered at the sight of the emerald-green light.

"I toiled for years."

"Plotting my escape, hoping that there'd be a chance. When one appeared, I took it - I escaped by the boat, but.."

"It shipwrecked here, on Esshar. Ever since, I've been trying to recollect myself together once more." Another pause.

"But if I am to get over what I experienced, if I am to ever learn how to make sure that never happens, and perhaps even return and fight back against them.."

"I need this. I need what you know."
(Ambrose Roche)

Silence, for a moment.

Ethric hums. Eyes flutter, for a moment. "Mmm. I see." Eyes flutter for a moment, a soft, easy hum. "I am familiar with the tales, yes. It... Is unfortunate. Soleil's work keeps her pinned, in many ways- On a verge of breaking, her wings stained."

"It is not a place I have tread. I admit- I avoid Cainites. I do not believe my judgement is the most clean upon them- As much as, perhaps, they try to sink their teeth into other shores. There are things that must occur, before Aproporyia will end up meeting freedom-"

"It is a shame it is not yet, not today. I find it quite sad, truthfully."

"Accordingly." He slowly lifts up the teapot, calmly pouring liquid into a cup- Setting it down before Ambrose. "I am deeply familiar with how Cainites control, lasso, and bind their slaves. How it functions. How it works. It does, naturally, leave me with a simple question, that leads into another-"

"How long have you been on Esshar's shores?"
(Ethric Athelier)

Their methods were cruel, gruesome.

Even now, sudden movement, flashes of light or loud noises tend to make Ambrose wince, jump or shudder every now and then- the memories of it all were still rather fresh on his mind. And even then...

He went from torment of slavery,
to struggles of war-torn country.

It is, admittedly, better here than back home - but it doesn't mean there were no worries whatsoever and nothing for him to look out for.

"Mhm..."

Still, he rather not speak about it more than he has to. With the liquid poured into a cup before him, he collects it and calmly drinks it, taking a few sips.

With the next question, he promptly remarks.

"About.."

"A year and few months by now?" At the very least, that's how long he remembers it.

"First few days after shipwreck I've been wandering the wilds. I didn't know where to go, or what to do."

"Some kind people gave me food and showed me where cities are. They showed me where I could work and gain coin." He pauses.

"I didn't mind working... it felt better than a crack of a whip on my back." And at the very least, the fruit of his labor was his own.

"And.. ever since, I've picked up artificing, alchemy- I also know medicine." Another pause. "I snuck out to the libraries every now and then, and, well.."

It felt a little uncomfortable in retrospect, but..

"Unsurprisingly, the Nobility had ample resource of anatomical studies over human body."

So he did have some skills picked up along the way; he didn't waste his time- though, he remarked.

"Admittedly, I learned medicine because I thought I might get hurt or sick during my escape. If that happened, no one would be able to treat me and I'd die - so I had to know what to do if that happens."

Naturally, it ends in a single conclusion - with his escape from Vampiric lands successful, and necessary skills acquired to do so..

"Here I am now."
(Ambrose Roche)

"Then-"

Ethric pours his own cup of dark brown liquid. A flick of the tongs brings two- No, three cubes of sugar to rest in it, alongside a simple glass stir. Likely more fitting to be used for alchemical reagents, than otherwise. Slitted eyes flit over, as the old man hums.

"The natural follow-up, of course-"

Fwwwf. An exhale ripples the top of the fluid, sending condensation aloft in sworls and eddies through the air. He passes a pour off towards the silent woman to his left, calmly filling hers for gathering whatever she would wish for her own acuities.

"If I purged you of Cainite blood, would you consent?"

A quiet, simple arc of his brow.

It is delivered as monotone as everything else, as he hums. "It would be relatively simple for me, of course... If you haven't imbibed within the year."

(Ethric Athelier)

Ambrose continues to calmly drink his tea.

But when the topic of the Cainite blood is brought up? He seems unbothered. Truth be told, he doesn't even remember imbibing it at all- there's a suspicion that it might've been snuck in at some point during his stay in Apropriya, but..

"You can do that."

"Though I doubt I have anything in me to begin with." For all intents and purposes, he was here for something different.

He was here to pursue the studies that Academy as a whole, or even Ethric himself, could offer.

"What I do know is that such blood is a precious commodity to vampires. They use it sparingly - even back home."

"And it airs out rather quickly, with their ghouls pleading for more."

And given Ambrose's calm reaction.. he simply didn't feel that attraction to it. Whatever that might've been once has likely aired out a long time ago.

"How is that done anyway?"

"I might use knowing how to do that - if I am to ever return and fight back against the Nobles."
(Ambrose Roche)

Ethric's shoulders subtly ease, as he gives a sharp nod.

A soft hum comes through his lips! He takes a sip, pausing briefly. "Admittedly- It is something within my domain, though I am certain if you asked the Lady Stellus, she would have her own method from having helped work with Mister Grace."

"Mine is a tad... Visceral."

"First, it begins with a few rare ingredients. It is a draught, to amplify a ritual that is more ordinarily used for removing poisons. Toxins. Something that is within my domain-"

"The magic power they cling to is a drug like many others." A soft, sonorous hum. "It would come in two parts, however-"

"It requires your system to be empty."

"Congealment and emesis of the tainted, cursed blood would be key- Easily achievable through a proper drought."

"... The withdrawl pangs, however, are something solved through time, and patience in the aftermath. Not quite something I have fully achieved. I have found that keeping someone craving it in proper isolation with a few elators can slowly resolve it- Alongside an exorcist working on the more supernatural aspect of the addiction."

He takes out a piece of paper from his satchel, laying it out.

"I would not mind drafting what I use- But, what magical proficiencies do you possess? I have found that for most mages and workers, finding something resonant with their domain is..."

"Most efficient."
(Ethric Athelier)

The Lady Stellus?

It is something that seems to cause a mild frown to Ambrose, if only because he simply didn't trust Osronans - not after they almost immediately tried to lock him up at the slightest hint of his background.

"...I'd rather not go through anything that involves Osronans." And besides..

"You also promised that this information would not leave this room."

It's a matter of trust - one where he trusts Ethric, but does not trust Osronans. The prior interaction with them simply ruined his trust when it comes to addressing his background.

"And, hm.."

"I'm a poison and nature magi." He pauses. "I think a draught will be fine, if you're convinced that it's necessary." Still, he couldn't really tell that he felt any particular way about it.

But perhaps the Headmaster knew better.

Still, there's something that concerns him.The topic drifted to addressing his background, naturally, as he expected it - but even then, he remarks.

"...Do you think I have a chance of even learning anything here?"

"Or I will be looked upon with scrutiny at all times?"
(Ambrose Roche)

"Oh, absolutely."

A slow, quiet blink. "I did, of course. Asking the Lady Stellus was a suggestion. You need not obey me, agree, or acquiesce to anything I suggest. I suggest it as an inquiry-line as she assisted individuals in dealing with a non-consenting thralldom."

"If you do not feel comfortable, you are correct- I gave my word." An easy bob of his head.

A steady hum, as he pauses for another sip of bergamot tea.

"I do not like the ties of Cainites, I do not think I have made any secret of it. I do permit those tied to them to walk these grounds, though I make it generally clear I consider any form of vampire blood to be a form of contraband I will take severe action upon."

"... But..."

"If you plan to someday go and free your homeland? Yes. That- Is a cause I can understand such a passion for being able to pass back at some time, and to master to someday have the logistics to master."

"... To never be caught again, to be able to visit them as suddenly as you once were."

"Yes."

"That is a reasonable request."

"If you wish to be enrolled- I do think there is plenty to learn. Most mages here have... More modest ambitions, but you can always find likeminded individuals. Most will not fuss with you whatsoever upon these grounds; Or extensively, if you are wearing a uniform."

"I could likely work with you."

"You have my breadth of domain. Here. Primarily, what I use, is an admixture of foxglove, basil, cat's claw, ginger, powdered oilroot, and an extract of white-tail poison." He hums, quietly. "Followed after five minutes by a chaser of distilled water crystals, alcohol, and ipecac syrup."

"I could show you the full preparation-"

"If you have the time for it. Perhaps that could answer your question of if you can learn anything."
(Ethric Athelier)

To him, it's better to just get this over with and focus on his studies, as well as his improvement.

It would be better for him to begin learning all that he can - so that one day he could return to Apropriya and do what he must in order to defeat the Midnight Aristocracy. If he doesn't do that, then...

What hope does he have?

"I do plan that."

"And I must do everything in my power, everything possible, and impossible, to make sure that happens." He pauses.

"I've heard there were occasional vampires on Esshar, as some people warned me, but.."

"Comparing to my home? This is nothing. This is so small..." Still, he would understand why people think of them as a threat. In any case..

"I'll need a lot more strength for this. A lot more power. And I'll need this speed of yours, Ethric."

"I'll need to know how to transport myself quickly- it'll be a skill that's just too invaluable." Especially for what he plans.

How long it would take exactly? There's no knowing. It's simply an issue that could very well end up taking years, even decades- and until he learns to master it..

Does he even stand a chance?

"--And it's why I want you to begin teaching me as soon as possible, Ethric."

"My enemies have centuries. I only have a few decades before I'm an aged magi like the rest."

It's not a fair fight. His time is running out - even as they're sitting here and discussing it.

"And also-"

"Yes. I'd like to see that full preparation too."

That'll be useful.
(Ambrose Roche)

"Hngh. They are a consistent parasite."

A hand waves.

"... You have more time than you think. Humans always measure their lifespans too short." A slow, half-lidded hum. "Being old may disadvantage you slightly... But, you will slowly, inevitably, accrue more, and more, power- The longer you endure, the longer you cling-"

"So long as you remember what this world is made of."

A soft, quiet murmur. "Skeins of fate. Belief."

"Are you familiar with the basics of Runecasting? Those, are something I generally give unto my instructors for the basic comprehension of. You do not need to be an imbuer or enchanter- But, such an understanding of the basic working of rites, rituals, and commands..."

"... Is, crucial. It is the basis of understanding teleportation."

"I do warn you- What I will teach you will not be a matter of direct combat capability."

"My book is a medium, Mister Roche. I use it to beseech the lifestream- And, I will warn you. If you are truly abhorrent unto it, it will likely cease to convey you... In whole. I do not think that to be particularly an issue- Don't destroy the world and think it will serve you in a quest for revenge, rather than one for justice, and you will find no issue."

He makes to rise- Stretching, stiffly. "I'll need to head unto the office to work on putting something together to do so. I warn you- It will be an..."

"Unpleasant experience."

"Shall we?"

He offers a hand.
(Ethric Athelier)

Perhaps, Ethric is right.

But at the same time, there are other things to be considered; while Ethri re-assures the young Roche that he still had a lot of time ahead of himself, he wasn't all that convinced.

Why? It's rather simple...

"--I think we can understand that it goes both ways, mister Ethric."

This... clinging, persevering, accruing more growth and power?

"In my stay back at Apropriya, I discovered that fate and the world itself are very impartial."

"They don't particularly care what your intent or your deeds are - as long as you persevere, you could always gather more power." And by extension..

"It means that every single Vampire has the potential to become an ancient force to be reckoned with - nigh unstoppable, too."

Especially if they manage to survive their turbulent youth. Beyond that, once they've amassed all this power? There might be no means of dealing with them anymore.

They'll stay eternally youthful - but with the power and knowledge of centuries.

But enough of that. Instead, he remarks.

"Yes. I'm aware of runecasting."

"I believe I learned, at the very least, basics of all types of casting - and that has helped me much in mastering artificing as well, and even medicine to an extent." Imbuing and enchanting wasn't quite the same as runecasting, but..

It helps.

"And.."

"I don't think I have the right to be afraid anymore. I don't think I can just cower - even if I'm afraid sometimes."

So instead, he takes his hand.

"I want to learn it. Lead the way."

"I'm ready."
(Ambrose Roche)

"Correct."

Ethric hums, as he goes to open the door, and traipse without and up the stairwells.

Footfalls ring and echo. "It's what makes them particularly pestilent- But, make no mistake. Most vampires you encounter- Do not truly live for hundreds of years. They live for perhaps fifty, and then they subsist. They teethe. They drool, or enter torpor."

"Humans die for a purpose, Mister Roche. The vast majority cannot endure. Will not endure. Will not resurge- They crave difference and death, as much as they fear the latter."

"The world is not cruel."

"What humans have done with free will creates artificial want."

The old man clucks his tongue as he heads up, ascending to the third floor. "Innovation, persistence, and equal patience will help you. Walk carefully. Watch, identify, and dance around that which shapes the world, and you'll tilt the world in your favor."

The come to stop before a door- Entering after sliding in a key, they enter into the office proper.

He immediately passes by the main desk, over towards a workshop full of jars, pouches, flasks, bowls, and a mountainous swath of potential reagents-

Alongside a desk stocked full of tools, inbuilt pieces and glasswork for his craft.

Ethric pulls out the seat, snapping as the locks on the drawers pop open with a simple, eerie trill that emerges without him opening his mouth.

He immediately begins rummaging through them!

"The ingredients I have listed- Think on them. Why would I choose them for my working, Mister Roche?"

"Given your resonances, understanding them is crucial. Your fields will require you to understand, grasp, and amplify many aspects of different animal and plant leavings and portions."
(Ethric Athelier)

One could think of it as merely too much anxiety, but from what he's seen back in Apropriya, he only felt that his fears were more than legitimate. As such, when Ethric speaks of how persistent they may be, and how most of them simply fall off eventually..

"--Most isn't all."

A simple statement, but it showcases what he thinks about it. As long as there are those that would abuse their centuries of knowledge and experience, they remain a threat at large.

Especially back in his home. Still..

"But.. how do you know all of this?"

He remarks, rather curious. It's not like Roche hasn't met elders before - quite frankly, he's met many, perhaps even those that are far older than Ethric; but still, he speaks with experience far beyond even an ordinary old man.

"What kind of life did you live?"

Such experiences brought about further curiosities. If he were to guess, then Ethric is around sixty or seventy years old, based on the looks. And yet...

The knowledge and expertise he speaks of? It may well be above that. Does he just look younger? After Apropriya, Ambrose knows all too well that appearances can be deceiving.

But for now, his gaze falls onto tools and various ingredients. There's a single hum given, and he thinks of it. Until..

"Foxglove, basil, cat's claw, ginger, powdered oilroot, an extract of white-tail poison.." He recites the earlier words.

Another thought.

"In all honesty... that sort of arrangement sounds like it could make someone throw up." That's likely the case. "And it could be so pungent that it'll make someone heave their guts all over."

Perhaps that's exactly why - to purge the body.

"And then, chaser of distilled water crystals, alcohol and ipecac syrup, hm.."

Another pause.

"Because after initial purge it would aid with cleansing?"
(Ambrose Roche)

"You have it relatively backwards with that concept of puking."

"No, foxglove causes hypertension and calls on blood; Cat's claw, a type of southern river plant, has many similar coalescences. White tail poison causes the formation of bezoars, when ingested rather than injected through fangs."

As he speaks, several of the herbs and a small, tiny vial of yellow venin are laid out along the table- A tap, tap, tap of his large and wrinkled fingers; Along the ground root powder, along the chopped and fermented leaves, along the cork.

The leaves enter a press, ordinarily for perfumes- Stuffing them into a glassen cylinder, a small hand crank alongside a small amount of alcohol. Rapidly, compression begins to squish it all down into the spigot to collate the essence down into the flask at the bottom.

"Amplified through magic, these can be used with a simple arcane catalyst and knowledge to try to lure the cainite curse into a solid, crystalline compound in the stomach. Ginger calms and soothes, to keep it properly seated as it forms, basil slows and solidifies, grounding in reality."

A pause.

He takes the congealed plant oils, slowly moving and pouring it into a thick-bottomed glassen vessel. Tapping the ginger and oilroot powders, and dripping the toxin in, he adjusts it to move it onto a burner.

Adjusting the small dials, as magic flows through as the plate underneath begins to heat, just like the tearoom.

"Then, you make a purgative to make them vomit. Ipecac syrup induces rather swift vomiting. The rest of it with that leaves to purge the traces you can."

A hum follows.

"I am old."

"Very old, Mister Roche."

"I have lost much- But, it was always worth seeing a new individual. A new horizon. A new hill. There was something new to support. To help. I am not perfect. I have not always succeeded-"

"But, I am pleased with the marks I have made. I have found what I have done to be meaningful in shaping and aiding others. I live to guide and empower- And perhaps, perhaps, it will end someday."

He watches the mass congeal at the bottom.
(Ethric Athelier)

Ambrose watches inquisitively.

And he listens too. In his mind, he makes a mental note of the recipe- and while he wasn't entirely correct with the effects of such draught, at the end of the day, it was more or less same concept in mind.

Except, it wasn't just heaving it all out - it was gathering the Cainite curse within, first, and only then purging it from the body. A missed step, one could say.

Still, he carefully watches the process as it occurs. It leaves him curious - just how exactly did they find out this in particular? Was it experimenting on ghouls?

In fact... why not ask?

"How did you discover this, if I can ask?"

"While I'm sure vampires occasionally reach different shores, I find it difficult to believe that there are that many of them everywhere else, comparing to Apropriya."

No. Nothing could compare to his home in regard of how infested it is.

"Or did you travel to my homeland for that?"

"Or... perhaps it was just a lucky capture for experimentation, at some point?"

Questions, questions. Maybe he asks purely out of curiosity - or to put dots together regarding Ethric's identity. After all, what he speaks of simply doesn't quite add up..

His appearance is that of Jianghese - he's familiar with that kind of people, but they're a very, very rare guest, whether back at home or here on Esshar. His knowledge is vast, so much so that it could match century, if not even few, and yet..

He's here.

Such thoughts don't exactly leave him at peace, but considering that Ethric has been nothing but kind so far, he doesn't push it too far - he wouldn't want to overextend his welcome.

"I'm glad to hear that you're still willing to guide and empower."

"Yours is a knowledge that shouldn't be lost."
(Ambrose Roche)

"They come about every handful of decades to other places. Disaffected nobility running off to seize land. Exiles who cackle and assure themselves they will be better elsewhere. Aproporyia is not as self-contained and successful as they will have you think. They have launched full-scale invasions-"

A hum.

"And been repulsed. Slowly, surely, but steadily. The problem is it takes a century or so for them to die back out."

"... I am glad a few entities have agreed with you." A slow, small, brief smile- Momentarily disrupting the disaffected, empty mask he seems to perpetually wear in metaphor.

He sobers.

"However, their first actions, oft, are first to sink their fangs into several individuals- Then, to turn and offer the boons of a fresh plethora of enemies to those they find potential allies or easily seduced individuals who crave power. Usually, occultists."

A soft hum, as he slowly turns down the heat. A soft application of fresh spirits slowly adjusts the gelatinous consistency within...

"All it takes is three or four powerful vampires to make a rotted impact. Some prisoners they take will agree to sup in the moment, for survival."

"They come to me, afterwards. As they have, on Esshar's shores."

"It is neither the first, nor the last time, the curse of Caine manifests."

"Your homeland is something where they must curate the human population whilst slaking their thirst. Being thrifty is a necessity. Blood is precious as a carefully measured harvest, because there will always be an overpopulation-"

"Even when they slaughter eachother behind the curtain for a bigger share."

"In a realm where they may feed and slaughter strangers and enemies where they choose? Their blood is doled out like housewarming gifts."

"I have never found a shortage of entities to study." A slow drawl. "At least, not when an outbreak of cainites occurs."
(Ethric Athelier)

Further explanations follow.

Was it truly that surprising that the Cainites would launch invasions everywhere else? Not in particular.. after all, why would they need ships and boats to travel anywhere else, if they were to simply contain themselves there.

They were spreading out, often coming to different countries.

"I see..."

It's only natural for all of this to occur as exactly as Ethric explains it. Yet still, when he explains that they've come to him before - as they did on Esshar's shores, that raises an evident question.

He grows curious.

"--Where else did they come to you?"

If not only on Esshar's shores... then surely somewhere else too? Perhaps he'd speak of Shenghese lands - which could be naturally assumed to be his homeland, but..

If the vampires can reach even there? That's dire indeed. It was a long way off.

"Did it take long to discover this?"
(Ambrose Roche)

"They've been on Vashrana, briefly in Yurhira-"

A soft, slow roll of his hand. "Vanirhallans are the infamously lesser cousins to them. You'll find most cultures do invariably wander- Aproporyia is more of a nasty one than other." A slow, easy hum.

"It has been several hundred years since the peace barriers have decayed away and shattered. Every ambitious individual thinks they can find better luck elsewhere- Do you believe it so eminently different?" A soft, gentle hum emanates.

And with that-

He spins the chair, on it's metal base, around, as he holds out the slurry taken off of the burner, as feet hook into the floor.

He proffers the flask.

"Try it."

"You will feel awful- But, you will know."

"They lace food with it- Ideally, soups and teas. Each of them can mask the fluid as merely a rich or iron taste."
(Ethric Athelier)

"Hm.."

The other cultures were less common to him, and as result, less known. But.. the Vanirhallans? It seems that they reached even the shores of this country as well.

"I've seen those before. They seem... like the Fireblooded - but different."

In their own way, both of them were somewhat barbaric, but he didn't bother too much on investigating about them. Instead, what he takes is a flask given to him by Ethric.

"...Feel awful, huh?"

Regardless of results, it seems that he'll just throw up and feel sickness afterward; still, he sighs, and only shakes his head a little with a smile.

"If I just fall over with the most awful stomach ache, don't make fun of me."

As much as his life has been that of torment and toiling, he's still a teenager - a fact that can be easily overlooked with mannerisms he possesses and the way he carries himself.

"Well..."

"Cheers?"

He drinks, in a single go- it takes a bit to manifest, likely with his system trying to digest it all and process it. Though, while it takes a bit of time, soon it doesn't take long for his features to visibly pale, his gaze to become rather..

Languid.

He's sick. Already it feels like he's going to throw up any moment- he holds up his hand to a mouth, as if trying to contain it; quite frankly, heaving up the contents of his breakfast right before the Headmaster is probably not very dignified.

"C-can I excuse myself.."

It's probably best he does.

Else he'll throw up right here.
(Ambrose Roche)

"Hahn- I could pontificate about them, but suffice to say- The 'gods' they worship are no more than much more selfish, much more terrified vampires free of the collective."

"If you'd start with-"

A pause, as he realizes the question to leave comes from a more biological standpoint.

"You may."

A soft, quiet murmur-

As it was probably about to get a lot, lot worse for him, before it got better.

What was going in-

Was definitely going to come out.


(Ethric Athelier)




You have received an INJURY:

Name: "Blood Withdrawl"

Desc: The world is cold. You feel dry. Hollow. Nothing but bitter, sour lemon tastes when you eat food. Your heart feels like it runs on empty, and sometimes gives an irregular twitch out of motion. Your throat feels unbearably, miserably scratchy.

You need more.

Inflictor: Ethric Athelier

Class: PERMANENT

Severity: MODERATE (-10 Vit)



You have 0 Blood available.

When he runs off, there was most certainly going to be quite an upheaval.

In his stomach, that is- for while he excuses himself as far as he could to not give them a poor spectacle infront of them, the restrooms felt like the only fitting place for such little endeavour. And at last..

Once reached?

The noises that are made from it are... unpleasant, to say the least; gurgling, heaving up not only the content of his food and other beverages, but apparently..

Something crimson.

The amount is pitiful, little; enough to lay dormant in his system for the most part, and enough to not make any sizeable difference - for most would engorge themselves on far more, regardless whether they were once a ghoul or even a Vampire themselves.

Perhaps a leftover from his days in Apropriya.

"Ack.."

It's not just an unpleasant experience, but now, it's also sickening to him- as result of his body being used to the vitae for a long time while back home, even if at least in small amounts, the any lack of it now feels..

Horrible.

Still..

He returns eventually- pale and sick, and evidently not feeling okay at all. Regardless, he makes an address to the Headmaster.

"I think.."

"There was a leftover.."
(Ambrose Roche)

Ethric does something he hasn't done for a student yet.

He stands. He walks over to a cabinet for a small, tightly packed pitcher. He taps the rune on it, and the cold running through the glazed clay ceases to emanate so violently.

"... Drink this instead." He murmurs, softly, he says, pouring it straight into a beaker and proffering it like a cup.

It's a very mulled wine punch; Strawberry lemonade admixture with a soft, sweet red.

"... Miss Loire. Could you do me a favor? I need you to go and get me an additive from the icebox."

"It should..."

"Aid."

"Somewhat."
(Ethric Athelier)

Anything to at least help this maelstrom in his stomach somewhat.

He eagerly takes the drink- but the moment he takes a sip of it, he can't help but frown; something is off about the taste. Perhaps it is the forcible removal of the vitae that caused him to feel this way, to feel this awful, but..

"--Ugh."

"This is... bitter."

He can barely stomach this drink, even if more than likely it's actually half-decent. Still, he sighs out, a somewhat pained expression on his face.

"How.. I was sure it aired out. I didn't even feel craving anymore.." Perhaps it was indeed close to disappearing over the years, but..

At the same time, little remained inside. The fact that some crimson came out, no matter how small of an amount, was a testament that it wasn't entirely gone.

Not until now, at least.

"..I feel like I need to lay down somewhere."
(Ambrose Roche)

Over the length and stretch of the interaction exchanged between Ethric and Ambrose respectively, Rosemarin remains an inert and indolent pillar in the background, uncannily still and lacking in life.

Once entreated, she stirs instantaneously, wading slowly from the stupor casketing her thoughts prior and rising to a full stand that sets itself into motion. "Of course."

She moves deftly, and with much haste, in spite of how thoroughly numbed she appears; hands pop the lid off of a distinct box riddled in a myriad of runes that line its make, some small, others large - all arranged in neat fashion. A frosted haze pours from its innards whilst she sifts through the stock within.

Where did they keep their supplements...?
Under-

Underneath a batch of other miscellanies, all of which she exerts a modicum of effort into uniformly combing, until, at last, a slender and rectangularcase fixes into her clutch, and delivered to the workdesk's veneer.

Rosemarin sits,
and observes, as one does.
(Rosemarin Loire)

Before Ambrose finishes-

Ethric reaches out, with a small violet of sharp, hot-pink fluid.

"Just a moment."

"..."

"I cannot stop some of the supernatural drag-"

"But."

"This should help ease what's going through your systems; Help your body fight off the shock."

"What it does, is it adjusts your body to running off of mana and relying on it's fortifying qualities. Weakening your physical musculature, in order to make you more vulnerable to the curse usurping those functions as your body slowly dies off on the inside."

"..."

"I assure you. You are likely not 'too far gone'. You would- Know MUCH worse would be happening. You wouldn'tve even been able to think of escaping." A slow, easy drawl. "This is mostly something to boost your body."

A soft, easy hum thrums through the air...

"Drink it down."

"This won't fix it- But, I pray it makes your day easier."

"Do you want a room, for the time being, here?" A brow raises.
(Ethric Athelier)

At this point, Ambrose could not hesitate.

The vial is taken and he drinks the fluid - anything to ease the withdrawal that he was going through. His mind was steeled after years of torment and toiling, and he gathered enough bravery back then to escape Apropriya, but..

Now, he would have to muster enough bravery to carry on through this.

"Ugh.."

It doesn't remove it all- not entirely. Truth be told, it'll likely take a while before it airs out completely, but now it's only a matter of time.

His body will begin to change, adapting to this as a whole.

"Thanks.."

Still rather weak, still rather hurting as result of it, but surely he'll get better. As for the offer to stay around here? He merely shakes his head.

"Thanks.. but I already have an apartment."

Work has been fruitful, and after he gathered some coins, hecould afford himself some housing. Nonetheless..

"I think.. I'd rather go now and rest."

Gods know that he needs it - more than anything else at the moment. But still.. there's one last request he makes.

"--Mister Ethric."

"Can we... begin learning runecasting and wayfinding the next time?" That was his initial purpose of coming here, after all, but..

He reminds him of his argument.

"I don't have an eternity.. and each moment gone by is against me. Time is against me."

So young, but so determined to already learn as much as he can. But it's not unreasonable..

Unlike vampires, he doesn't have eternal youth.
(Ambrose Roche)

"Hahn."

"Learn runecasting on your own."

A hand comes up. "I am not the finest teacher. I have several more dedicated individuals here who can aid you with it. Mister de Vir, Mister Wesley, Mister Jericho- All of them, I am certain, can aid you on that front, and they are more regularly available than I."

"Miss Moira, as well."

A soft pause, a hum.

"However, I will give you your first assignment as you master this."

"Your first task is to make a convocation that does nothing, but establish your absolute location within Eternia."

"When you think you have mastered a ritual circle to accomplish this, we will tie it into a proper convocation to pull on the result of it."

"Acceptable homework?" His head tilts.
(Ethric Athelier)

At the very least, he could get started.

Actions such as these would mean that he'll eventually master the means of such instant transportation, and at the end of the day, that was the purpose of it. In his mind, he could already imagine at least several applications to be used back in Apropriya with this.

It would be a great advantage over there, more than some could imagine.

Still, he listens- to master runecasting, and then learn how to establish his own absolute location within Eternia. While he could be wrong - he thinks that it's likely akin to setting up the 'anchor' for such teleportation.

For as long as he could anchor himself like that, it should be fine.

"Of course.."

"I'll work on that."

Diligent and devoted. Such would mean that he's got plenty to do from now on, but..

"It's acceptable. Thank you for your time, and.." He pauses.

"Hopefully I'll return feeling better soon enough."

For now, he departs.
(Ambrose Roche)