As Yrmellyn asked him about his experience, the Mortalborn calmly looked into her eyes for a moment before he replied, “I was a warrior and stood on a battlefield before I decided to dedicate my life to the study of alchemy and chemistry. I believe that in order to reach one’s full potential it is necessary to exercise one’s mind as well as one’s body. Physical weakness, Miss Cole, is an undesirable trait in my opinion.” His voice was a hint harsher as he said the last sentence. He despised weakness, physical and mental weakness, in himself and in others, and he had no respect for those that neglected themselves or wallowed in self-pity.
She sounded so excited as she imagined all the things she would be able to do with alchemy, and his mood softened somewhat as a consequence. He enjoyed discussing his work as much as any of his colleagues or perhaps even more so, especially with somebody that had as sharp a mind as the mortal painter. “I could really make such potions, with a little time and effort”, he replied. “I would never claim to be capable of something that I do in truth not know anything about.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “I do not have any such potions here however. I would have to create them from scratch. If you are truly interested, perhaps I could give you a brief demonstration at a later date.”
Meeting her again would be risky, he realized, especially now that he knew that she was a mage and could quite possibly look into his soul. But there was a part of him, that proud and arrogant and slightly narcissistic part, that wanted to show off his creations, that wanted to be admired and respected for what he did. Even he was not entirely without flaws.
“No”, he said again, firmly. “Alchemy is not magic. It does not require an initiation. Everybody could theoretically become an alchemist, although I would advise against it. Not everybody should become an alchemist. I would be loath to scratch somebody’s remains off the walls because they decided to experiment with substances that they shouldn’t have handled and blew themselves up in the process.” He was not talking about her of course. She did quite possibly have what it took. He was talking about those children that sometimes showed up in his office and demanded to be taught things that were much too complicated for them.
“That, Miss Cole, is up for debate”, he replied as she insisted that her soul was changed, but not broken. Despite that statement he didn’t look down on her or thought her a freak. He found the choices she had made to be rather questionable though.
As he spoke he wondered if it would be possible to study the soul, the spark, to find out what exactly happened when somebody gave in to the temptation of magic – and to find it out without sacrificing one’s own soul. It was a topic he would have to think about in more detail once their meeting had ended, he decided. He needed to know more about her kind.
“Blind faith and blind worship are never good ideas”, he retorted as she pointed out that most people admired and worshipped the Immortals. What powers could compare to theirs? What powers indeed? His powers. If he honed his abilities – and if he found a way to do so without sacrificing his longevity - if he made use of the gifts that Syroa had given to him, then he would eventually be his father’s match. But Yrmellyn would never know of the secret ambition of the man in front of her unless she decided to make use of her magic after all.
“You do have a point though”, he continued. “If that man, that all-powerful man turned out to want to change the world for the better supporting him and worshipping him might be worthy of being considered. Although, as we concluded before, what is good and what is evil is up for debate, and his intentions may not be as pure as they seem at first.”
She sounded so excited as she imagined all the things she would be able to do with alchemy, and his mood softened somewhat as a consequence. He enjoyed discussing his work as much as any of his colleagues or perhaps even more so, especially with somebody that had as sharp a mind as the mortal painter. “I could really make such potions, with a little time and effort”, he replied. “I would never claim to be capable of something that I do in truth not know anything about.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “I do not have any such potions here however. I would have to create them from scratch. If you are truly interested, perhaps I could give you a brief demonstration at a later date.”
Meeting her again would be risky, he realized, especially now that he knew that she was a mage and could quite possibly look into his soul. But there was a part of him, that proud and arrogant and slightly narcissistic part, that wanted to show off his creations, that wanted to be admired and respected for what he did. Even he was not entirely without flaws.
“No”, he said again, firmly. “Alchemy is not magic. It does not require an initiation. Everybody could theoretically become an alchemist, although I would advise against it. Not everybody should become an alchemist. I would be loath to scratch somebody’s remains off the walls because they decided to experiment with substances that they shouldn’t have handled and blew themselves up in the process.” He was not talking about her of course. She did quite possibly have what it took. He was talking about those children that sometimes showed up in his office and demanded to be taught things that were much too complicated for them.
“That, Miss Cole, is up for debate”, he replied as she insisted that her soul was changed, but not broken. Despite that statement he didn’t look down on her or thought her a freak. He found the choices she had made to be rather questionable though.
As he spoke he wondered if it would be possible to study the soul, the spark, to find out what exactly happened when somebody gave in to the temptation of magic – and to find it out without sacrificing one’s own soul. It was a topic he would have to think about in more detail once their meeting had ended, he decided. He needed to know more about her kind.
“Blind faith and blind worship are never good ideas”, he retorted as she pointed out that most people admired and worshipped the Immortals. What powers could compare to theirs? What powers indeed? His powers. If he honed his abilities – and if he found a way to do so without sacrificing his longevity - if he made use of the gifts that Syroa had given to him, then he would eventually be his father’s match. But Yrmellyn would never know of the secret ambition of the man in front of her unless she decided to make use of her magic after all.
“You do have a point though”, he continued. “If that man, that all-powerful man turned out to want to change the world for the better supporting him and worshipping him might be worthy of being considered. Although, as we concluded before, what is good and what is evil is up for debate, and his intentions may not be as pure as they seem at first.”
