The Sound of Nature

[Trevor]

Ashan 25 718

Spring had definitely returned to the lands around the city of Ne'haer. It had been a while since Trevor had dared to venture beyond the walls, but now that he did he felt somehow glad about it. He wore his usual attire, which felt drab in comparison to the fine silks back in Lysoria, that consisted of the white shirt and beige pants he owned. Leather boots pressed firmly into the patches of green the man hiked across, his black cloak wrapped around his shoulders as brown eyes admired the scenery. He walked with his bo staff in hand as the wooden end of the stoke poked the ground, while he felt the earth greet each tap with a faint vibration underneath.

The element's way of greeting him it would seem, since the last time he'd been out here was a long while. The mage's lips moved to a grin as he continued his walk among the woods, a sense of peace filled his mind as he looked to the trees next.Life. So much life it would seem. Trevor honestly couldn't help but savor the scenery as the ambiance of animals filled his ears, birds sung in lilted tweets while squirrels shuffled through branches in the trees. Truly it was marvelous beauty that beheld a sense of serenity the sorcerer fancied, thus he walked until he came across a spring tucked away within the forest. He could still see the walls of Ne'haer towering over the trees to his north, so it actually astounded him that such a place remained so close to the city.

He stopped in place and wondered for a moment if this would be a good area to rest at, and after a bit of consideration he felt that it would indeed serve well to linger there. So what Trevor did next was find a spot close enough to the water, slip his boots off at the edge of the spring, and then sit down with feet dipped into the water. How he felt when the fresh clear liquid caressed his skin led him to close his eyes, with his head hung back in a pure sense of solitude now that he found sanctuary. Already he could feel his Spark of Defiance hum within his soul as the water lapped playfully along his shins. The wind greeted him with warmth from the humidity found in the air, and blew his hair around in a bit of a mess which contradicted Trevor's personal style!

"Now now, you know it's not nice to ruin the do." He casually remarked towards the air as he ran fingers through the tangles, until it once more rested in the fashion he preferred it to as before. He rested the wooden staff down next to him and decided to unravel the cloak around him, the clasp the last to be undone as the fabric loosely clung to his shoulders. Once that was removed he then proceeded to unbutton his shirt some, so his hot skin could feel the amazing cool breeze the wind brought on. Immortals forbid he ever leave this place! He would've stayed here for as long as he could've, even lived here rather than that dull house he rented at the Harbor Village. As he felt the elements continue to commune with him through his Spark, Trevor leaned back some with arms brought to pillow his head.

Unlike Ne'haer he could feel truly at peace here, able to convey thoughts and feelings with the natural entities of the world. Thus he relaxed and felt the wind join him in a sigh, as his brown eyes closed softly so that he could further meditate on his private tranquility he found.

[Alistair]

"Stop flinging rocks at me, you fucking gnats!" he cursed, as the pebbles were flung, small little hands throwing even smaller rocks that stung like little pellets. Alistair was furious - he had to have at least ten children surrounding him, throwing stones. None of them, somehow, were afraid of his ire.

"He said the bad word!" a little girl yelled, picking up another, larger stone and throwing it even more aggressively. The little brat was sure to grow to be a woman of pure temperance, considering she found it acceptable to throw rocks at someone for profanity.

"Lothary have doo-doo mouths!" a boy yelled. Lothary? Alistair could only question this. Did they think he was a Lotharro? Was that why they were throwing rocks at him? Why would one even throw rocks at a Lotharro, anyway? If anything, the better humor would've been in sicking a dog at them and watching them 'hunt' it. Although, he supposed in the case of an actual Jeger - as he was - that might have resulted in an untimely death for the dog.

For now, he could only swat away the little rocks, guarding his body with his forearms. Luckily, his skin was fairly thick, and he didn't genuinely find much harm in the kids and their stones. It was merely... irritating.

"I'm not a fucking Lotharro!" he snarled, as a few of the kids screamed and continued to pelt him... even harder. God, these things were really trying to kill him. Trying and failing.

The man held his arms forward, leaned his back down, and charged one of the children. All of them scattered and screamed like chirping birds, as the one child was quickly picked up by the man and hoisted into the air. "Take that, brats! I've captured one of your own!" he yelled. The kids all continued to scream, and proceeded to throw more rocks... a few of them hitting the little girl he'd just grabbed. Inevitably, she began to cry. Alistair frowned.

"You're mean, mister!" one of the boys yelled. "You're making Mina cry! You're a... fucking meanie!" he added, with the flavor of profanity in his words. Alistair's eyes widened as the kid swore, but as if he were in an alternate universe, the other kids joined him.

"He's a fucking meanie!" they yelled. They all started to laugh, as if it were oddly liberating. Mina, though, continued to cry. Alistair set her down as the rock-throwing subsided, replaced instead by the foul mouths of untrained children. All of their parents needed to attend a seminar in proper whipping, and even more aggressive forms of parenting. The ruckus of these mad-children was simply unacceptable.

Still, he didn't know why they began rock throwing in the first place, but he was done with kiddy bullshit. Alistair ran away, expending furious breaths through his nostrils, as he made his way to the edge of the farming town and to the treeline that flowed into the Willow Woods. He sprinted through the tall grass, and kept straight on the soles of his feet, despite the imbalance that anger brought him. Attempting to calm himself, he took many breaths... and tried to wipe away the images of slinger-children from his mind. Breathe evenly, he whispered. Breathe. Breathe.

Then, as he exhaled, it seemed as if that same breath flowed off elsewhere - right to a man. The breath that had escaped his lips aggressively flung itself at the top of the man's head, marring his hairstyle as Alistair stood quietly and observed with curiosity. Defiance? He had known other Defiers before, and had observed the craft a lot. It was... heartening to see it again, so playfully too. Quickly, his fury subsided, and his lips were lit with a smile.

"Nice stache," he complimented the man, breaking his meditation. Alistair brought himself only a few feet away, intent on meeting the one who may well have been another mage. Possibly.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked.

[Trevor]

With brief assault of wind in the air felt through his hair there had been a quiet notice, a subtle inclination of aggravation that perhaps went ignored before. Yet the more he thought of it and the nature in which the wind felt, the better he realized that it had been more than just an attempt at play. That there was another nearby who seemed to caught up in a mood, and in need of a release from it as they too sought sanctuary elsewhere. Not long after he considered this, a voice had quickly rectified this reasoning as he remained perpetually one with the environment. After he heard the complimentary on his own well defined mustache, Trevor's eyes opened to first see the roof of canopy that nature created over him. His brown eyes then moved to the direction of it's source, while the sorcerer propped himself up on an elbow to lazily face the man.

"Trying to see if all of the problems of the world would just melt away here. Is it working yet?" He jested with a bit of a smirk towards the man, surprised to see one so attractive there to grace his presence. Trevor proceeded to lean back up into a sitting position, as he looked from the man down into the clear green spring in front of him. "Peace seems such a fleeting ideal for one to pursue these days, often I find the troubles of the world too massive to deal with." The man mused thoughtfully as he felt some truth exist in the words, quite often it seemed like Ne'haer as well as the rest of the world suffered too much. Those in Cycres were certainly a vivid example to this testament, since those poor sods were always in peril of raiders and highwaymen.

Trevor did more than just speak philosophy towards the newcomer however, he listened to the nature of his presence through the wind as well. So far he could feel warmth brush on his neck and shoulders, the locks of his hair lightly batted in a direction away from the man. It was a personal conversation that felt vague to the Defier, but at the same time enough to give considerable regard towards this individual. He felt within the wind a power, and housed in that power an ambition not unlike Trevor's own once. Yet what power that could be remained indeterminable to the mage, and thus the traces of ether he fed into the air appeased the Element as his Spark vibrantly hummed within. Not just his Defiance Spark, but his other Spark as well. Could this man share a similar power with Rupturing also?

There remained no absolute way of knowing, not through the discerning of Ether alone to say the least. Yet another look at the man could suffice, albeit hard to refrain from admiring his physical features in the process. Vividly tall and quite well buff to boot, the hefty outlines of his muscles already an allure for the mage to observe when he looked the man's way. It was strange to Trevor as he'd seen men he'd considered quite attractive before, but something about this one in particular made him feel very attractive. Almost unnaturally so to be exact. As much of a bear this man posed to be, there was certainly something more to him than what physical appearance initially gave off. Which caused an internal stir within Trevor, as he felt the gentle warmth of his inner flame rise in temperature.

"You don't seem to be a regular around here," The fire sorcerer concurred finally after a moment of silence, "what's brought you to this private slice of paradise in hell?"

[Alistair]

"No, it's not working," he said, a heavy chuckle escaping under his words as his features were lit with a charmed grin. The other man immediately caught his interest, as he was... peculiar. He could think of no other word, especially as he spoke more, and in a sort of sagely form. The man's appearance and his words did not match - Alistair half expected the words flowing out from his lips to be akin to 'fuck you, fuck off, leave me alone'. He certainly had the grunge to him, but equally, the youth.

Still, he was handsome. A jaw that was strong but not too much so, with a face that was just long enough, and a smoothness to his chin, neck and jawline that was strangely complimented by the most subtle of stubble and the large and boisterous mustache he bore. He had well-fitting clean eyebrows, attractively narrow eyes, and a shade of skin that was neither sky nor earth. And, to top it all off, he had wildly fascinating hair. Alistair found him very interesting - he was... one of the most unique looking people he'd ever seen. And he hadn't even really considered the artistry of his tattoos.

Easily, it was not difficult to discern that the two of them were equally compelled by the appearance of the other, likely for different but similar reasons. He could not tell, not entirely, though he always had an instinctual discernment for such things. But that was not why he'd approached him, so he shook away the thought.

Instead, he responded to him, deciding to do more with his throat than his eyes. "I couldn't possibly express how much that resounds with me," the man stated, concurring with laughter. "I've been escaping trial after tribulation after trial. And if only my trials were confined to a single... trial," he joked with a small smile, playing with the wording of the days. He immediately felt himself half-cringe at the horrifically unintelligent nature of his humor, but at least he tried.

Noticing the man seemed to be observing him for curious reasons - possibly to gauge him on more complicated terms - Alistair waggled his brows playfully, teasing him. He was highly perceptive - but immediately what he perceived, he enjoyed. The Defier was... oddly soothing in the way he acted, and in how the wind acted around him. A pleasure to meet.

"Paradise in hell?" his brows quirked. "Well, accurate I suppose. Though I'm not fully convinced this place is paradise, yet," the mage shrugged. "As for my reasoning, well... I am sort of a regular. I like to go through the villages on different routes, but they all lead me to the same place: the Willow Woods. I go there frequently, in fact. Hunting, mostly, but also athletics. It's a great place to learn how to fight and put your skills to the test - dangerous, but not too much so for a truly weathered warrior. It's not like the Gauthrien wields, which makes it... manageable. I like it," he stated. Clearly, that was his reason for coming. If Trevor were to look upon his back and see the tall combat spear mounted to it, he would piece it all together.

But of course, he'd become a detour... or rather a stop. Now, Alistair was compelled into conversation, rather than killing.

"As for you - I suppose you're here to find that paradise you seek, correct?" Alistair asked. "I hope you don't find my presence corrupting to it. After all, I bring some of that worldly hellishness with me. Seems to follow me like an unwitting slave."

[Trevor]

"Perish the thought." Trevor quickly muttered with a forced sigh when the man honestly mentioned his pacifistic appeals changed nothing, contrary to the fact he knew they wouldn't part of him still wished the rest of the world could be like this. Serene. Peaceful. It would be a beautiful thing indeed if there wasn't corruption and in fighting between mortals. At it probably didn't help that the Immortals influenced them either, manipulating the lesser folk for their own causes as the power struggles grew larger. It would seem as though these Trials every mortal creature had some role or purpose to fulfill, and admittedly Trevor found himself struggling to discover his at the moment. That probably explained why he felt such contempt here in this place, as he needn't any discover any real purpose other than just bond with the elements.

But now there existed a real mystery in the mixed blood's presence, an absolute enigma that the mage required learning more about. Just who was this mysterious stranger that popped up? He certainly had the brawn of a warrior bear but there was also intellect in his voice, perhaps a similar aspect of scholarly pursuit that Trevor himself shared deep down. As he eyed the man curiously he noted the playful nature of his eyebrows, and somehow the heat in Trevor grew warmer quickly. Enough to make turn the man's skin red at the cheeks, as he almost couldn't bear the witty social advance made towards him. It was almost too enlightening to watch and therefore, required the water for a safe amount of distraction.

Focus now placed on his Ether instead Trevor willed for it to course through his body and into his feet, so that the essence would fill the spring as the water started to splash around his shins vigorously. That felt exquisite to say the least! The cool embrace of the water helped him manage the heat growing within his blood, and thus he could maintain a unchanged demeanor while still talking to the man that approached. "Sounds to me like you've a knack for trouble, a boon that I'm all too familiar with if I were to be honest. But of course such is the life of one such as you and I." He hinted with a faint smile on his lips, as he too could only guess the man was also a mage much like him. It was always there no matter what their craft was, that familiar air of understanding the unknown. The palpable quality of mystique all usually projected always seemed hard to miss, at least for those weren't clever enough to try and conceal it.

But why bother? Though not many seemed to agree magic was often a gift, better than any flagrant 'blessing' given my any Immortal. Trevor on the one hand loved the idea of being a mage, mainly because it helped him discover new aspects of life he enjoyed. Even if there were consequences down the road, he'd accept them without a flinch or hesitation to the cause. "Perhaps not," Trevor remarked at the man's apprehension of paradise, "one can only dream however." Thus he looked at the man once more as he further listened, the toes of his foot used to stir the water some as bubbles tickled the arch. Indeed the stranger appeared outfitted for travel now that Trevor looked more closely, though why anybody would want to travel between the other settlements was beyond the mage. So much wildlife and danger in between them, and not to mention bandits and marauders also! No. Trevor preferred his pretty face remain attached to his shoulders, so braving the wilds wasn't something he wanted to dare risking ever again.

"I'll have to bear that in mind." He remarked to the stranger as he contemplated what he had heard, while it wasn't the most thrilling of ideas it certainly wasn't terrible either. Frolicking through the wood to hunt and improve your skills and perception, why just the thought of this man doing that tickled Trevor's fancy some. Enough to where he laughed just shortly after the man remarked on his presence. "Originally yes, finding paradise had been the ideal goal in mind. At present however this place is just as liable suffer the wrath of lumberjacks or some other ungodly heathens of the world. Nature at it's core can be unpredictable and chaotic at best." The sorcerer mused to his companion as he looked back from the man down to his feet, as the water continued to slosh and sway around his calves.

"I'd say your presence is hardly as detrimental as you suggest, then again nothing's come out to eat us so far. Not yet anyways." At last he leaned forward some to pull out his soaked legs as the skin of his feet and toes started to prune, while the air and earth felt cool to the muscles of his lower legs and feet. "Trevor D'ael is the name, as you're probably aware I'm quite like you in some aspect. Least I have a feeling you and I share similar views on our special gifts."

[Alistair]

The more he'd come to know this man, the more he found him... odd. Not in a way that would inspire Alistair awkwardly shifting to avoid eye contact, or fluttering off whilst cringing, but rather... intricate. He was wholly strange, and the mage couldn't particularly place the 'why' as one singular thing. The contradictory appearance versus tone, for one... but also, his odd level of perceptiveness, and certainly the fact that he suddenly began to slosh water at his feet so dramatically. He even, blatantly, performed magic in doing so... which was apparently because he could tell that Alistair was a mage.

How?

Well, he supposed the fact that he had been drawn to him by the Elements meant something. Many commoners would've simply turned tail upon watching the wind shift so dramatically, in the direction of a particular individual, who was then targeted directly by that wind. Alistair, instead, found himself only more comfortable. He supposed that had been a give-away, something which he could either curse or oblige. There was no harm in being recognized as a mage by another mage - well, usually - and so in this situation, he didn't really bother refuting it. Though, he didn't directly confirm it either... particularly considering half of his magic was rather reviled, the dark gift of Necromancy.

"To be truthful," Alistair began, "I'd be much more worried by the monsters than the lumberjacks. You're awfully close to the edge of these woods - I'd wager you haven't had enough encounters with its denizens to be wary," the mage stated from what seemed like fact to him; few that knew of the Willow Wood's inhabitants tended to roam them, even on the very outskirts. Sometimes, those inhabitants peaked out -- and it was simply unwise to provoke their ire. Not without serious power, or mobility.

Perhaps this man was a Rupturer? He could presume, but Alistair could never be certain. There was nothing about him that screamed 'Rupturer' in particular, save for maybe his bravery, and the quirkiness. The people of portals, often called the Scions of Wanderlust, were often strange. Alistair belonged with them in that way, though his odd proclivities were typically padded behind layers of deceptive modesty and the farce of class. The magister had once been a powerful Lord but, now, no longer.

"In truth, though - if something were to come out and try to feast on us, I'd rather I be here than not. Uthaldrian Jeger, here - I'm pretty good at hunting beasts," the mage stated, proudly. Alistair was a cocky man, particularly arrogant and often too blatant about his talents. Still, he supposed one of his few remaining joys was feeling proud of himself, so he found no reason to cease in doing so. Fortunately, however, he'd not been revoked of the right of mutual introduction... to the man he found so peculiar.

And, he was forced to confirm his status as a mage, as Trevor - as he now knew him by - pressed the issue. "Alistair var Radomir," he introduced himself. It was a false surname, one he'd crafted in Ne'haer to bolster his politics... and to hide from Rynmere. Though he suspected he was fairly obvious to them, regardless, and they likely already knew that he was here. With that in mind, he sighed, and offered a hand... introducing himself genuinely. "Or, Alistair Venora, as I'm known in my home country. Pleased to make your acquaintance, mage - and know that indeed, I am one of the same. A Rupturer, primarily. And... other things. Oddities. Though I'm afraid I can't share those without compensation," he teased.

Trevor D'ael. Not a bad name, certainly. He was a mage, which added several hundred points of mischief and enigma to his person. Alistair imagined that they would get along well.

"Have you been playing with the Elements, then, Trevor?" he questioned. "I knew a man from these very woods with your talents, once. I mentored him for a time," Alistair explained. "But mages, unfortunately, come and go... and die young. Unlike so many of the ones I used to know, I remain." He did not intend to say this ominously, but rather... as a cautionary word. These were trying times for mages, and so many of them lashed out in response. So many had died, lately - their population had waned dramatically.

"I don't know what views we apparently have in common, but - I would not flaunt my powers so freely. You must seclude yourself even further... and in the face of a threat, never reveal your magic until you know their own nature. If I had been a Hiladrathi mage hunter, right now you would be gone. Remember, Trevor - we are being hunted across this world. Burned alive. I advise that you walk with caution."

[Trevor]

Maybe Trevor had been reading a little too much into this man, relying too heavily on his companions to discern things. For all he knew the stranger could've been more dangerous than he let on, as even the elements could never fully determine a person's character alone. As he came to a stand he did so with his staff in hand, the rock beneath his soaked feet felt sturdy and safe even against the warnings to come. Indeed it would seem that mages were easy targets for just about everything, since there was always a reason to pinpoint ire in their general direction. Trevor was honestly used to such a problematic concept due to the fire in his blood, and how it had naturally caused disasters long before he became a mage of Defiance. "In that case I should probably be glad it was you who discovered me here instead." He mused as though the threat of danger from the unknown barely phased him.

Honestly it was probably because he'd been close to death one time too many, to really worry about some animal or nightmarish creature coming this close to the city. It's been known to happen of course since predators liked to stalk all hunting grounds, but usually the wind or earth would be kind enough to alert Trevor otherwise. It explained why he felt so carefree and comfortable here within this area, even if it seemed less secluded as he originally believed. "Perhaps not. I doubt your referring to the common wolf or bear one can expect to see out here." The Mixed-blood cooed almost tenaciously with a wipe at the backside of his pants. It would seem that the stranger's own confidence in skill was something note worthy to be aware of, as Trevor couldn't help but rub at the tip of his mustache with a finger and thumb in consideration.

A Uthaldrian Jeger? He had never really heard of the term before. Were they a type of guard or warrior clan within the city of men? Quite honestly Trevor wasn't surprised to connect this fellow to that place, since a great number of Lotharro seemed to come and go within the city. All were definitely more rough and brutish in comparison, where as this questionable sort came off far too educated to be considered such. "I haven't heard of the term." He dully admitted with a vague sense of curiosity about him. "Although word of the Lotharro Horde up north has been mentioned on occasion within Ne'haer. You don't look much like a Lotharro come to think of it, at least not as brutish and untamed as they like to project themselves. " He remarked with a bit of a snide grin, as he bent over to use one hand for gripping his boots.

By now the skin of his calves and feet felt somewhere between moist and dry, although it remained kind of hard to tell since the water clung so affectionately. "A pleasure to meet you Alistair." He finally reciprocated after hearing the name for the first time, although the second time around led him to raise an eyebrow. "Venora is it now? Well if we're going to use our real names, then you can say mine is Trevor D'ael Reverrik!" The name Venora wasn't all too familiar given Trevor's taste in wine, particularly some of the names of the flavored wine he mostly enjoyed. Venora Rose was one of them was it not? He wasn't sure where it came to be imported from, but all the same it beheld a succulent flavor as complimentary as this man's features.

"I take it in your home country you're not very popular there either, hence the reason why you gave the other name." He pointed out with a slight smirk as his head craned just a little, admittedly he stood there with only one boot halfway on. "In my home country magic is more accepted than here, though my countrymen certainly aren't on agreeable terms with me. You and I seem to have more in common than you may think." Trevor mused with a wink as he finally bent back down to finish slipping that first boot on, the second one wouldn't take as long to put on thankfully as he focused more on that before conversing any further. "Mentored? I wasn't under the impression I'd met a fellow Defier. You certainly don't have the air of one about you, that is if you catch my meaning in regards to the elements." Evidently the mage was enjoying hearing himself speak, something that Alistair likely picked up on as he finished collecting his gear.

"All the time actually. The elements and I share a close bond as they would with any Defier, and it's because they exist that I'm still alive to this Trial." At the inclination of being told he should seclude himself further, the smirk cracked into a wide beam as he laughed at the notion. "A valid point to remember. Truth be told you've caught me at a a truly awkward time, I usually avoid the displays with the elements as much as I can in the city. Perhaps you coming here is fate's way to remind me not to be so careless next time I think I'm isolated." At this the playful demeanor in his face lessened as his eyes drifted back to the water. "In the city one has to work diligently to try and make the idea of a 'sorcerer' a good thing, very few seem vividly excited about the ideal of hiring a mage for their needs. Most of the time hiding the fact that I'm a mage becomes daunting to say the least, as it's like you said, there are many who work tirelessly to hunt us down."

Curious eyes fell upon him once more, as there was one detail in particular that the man neglected to remark upon. "You mentioned you're a Rupturer among other things? That could explain why the winds implied you powerful then... They discerned that much about you to say the least."

[Alistair]

He supposed he didn't look like a Lotharro, though he did previously live among them. He had been a Jeger living in Aedirn, serving as a hunter and doctor both - practicing on the warriors that had returned from battle against the scourge of beasts. He had always belonged with them, but in truth he was happy to be distinguished from those men. Alistair was far more scholarly than brutish, and while there were scholars and philosophers among those men, few learned more than the art of effective killing. Unlike the children, Trevor clearly knew that regular men could in fact develop their martial abilities without "upgrading" into being a Lotharro. It wasn't so complicated.

"The Horde is unifying, but slowly. And when they do come, it will be the problem of Ironridge, and Lysoria," he stated with deference. In truth, he did not know how to weigh his feelings on the matter of Lotharen conquest. He had no particular love for the Northern Realms of Ne'haer as they were now, but Lysoria was something of an ideal in theory: a place where mages ruled and held influence, rather than being subjugated or imprisoned. Many of the mages within the region were Lysorian - along with Quacia, it served as one of the world's few remaining havens for their kind.

"Trevor D'ael Reverikk," he repeated. It rolled off the tongue easy, and contained a certain inexplicable level of authority. The man's name was as handsome as the bearer of it. "And, no. I'm not very appreciated in Rynmere," he stated, flippantly, as he glanced off with a feigned unfeeling expression - as if this fact didn't immensely bother him. Where once he was loved, the reveal of his magic had been enough to bring spite down upon him. If not for that... he could've been Duke, at this very moment. One of the most powerful men in the Kingdom, and among the greatest powers of Idalos. But alas - while magic brought simple men power, it weakened the nobles of Rynmere. It was a secret worth killing to protect.

And, somehow, he'd failed to protect it. Though he still hadn't ascertained how his grandmother had found out.

"I envy your home country," Alistair simply replied. He wondered if he was Lysorian - he did have the tone, and the candor, and the eccentricity. But he couldn't be certain; Alistair found many possibilities plausible for him. Desnind, Quacia, Etzos... "Though," he continued, "I don't revel in our similar positions. I'm sorry that you suffer as I do in that regard," the man stated, somewhat plainly. It wasn't clear, half the time, if he was genuine or not... or if he was just trying to be formal. In truth, most of their conversation he was simply observing. Trying to capture every oddity around Trevor, and view him in every light.

"I am a Rupturer, yes. I've been one for quite some time, and... I've developed my gifts very thoroughly," he said, a small smile encroaching on his lips. He wouldn't make any demonstrations, but... he was a masterful Rupturer, among the best of them. With no Revealed Rupturers known to this world, he supposed he carried the mantle of the magic's successor, though he fell short of the magic's true magnum opus, Reyard Seymour.

"The Elements," he started again, "seem very chatty. Do they often speak to you? And how do they know so much? Seems rather suffocating, almost - having so many chattering whispers surrounding you, even living within the air. How do you ever find total peace?" Alistair asked. Though externally he was extroverted, proud and filled with ideas, internally... he appreciated the quiet breaks of contemplation that solitude could offer him. Being a Defier seemed strangling - and, a bit, overwhelming.

[Trevor]

In the light of news on the Lotharro Horde that the man spoke of, Trevor couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Lysoria and Ironridge would be the first to notice a massive army of muscled heathens? That certainly provided a little bit of discomfort, while Ironridge certainly held no place for love in his heart; Trevor honestly didn't wish no ill will on his own home either. Lysoria was a good place for people who were talented with magic, even though the politics were just as shrewd as the rest of the territories. To discover that one Trial a movement that enormous could come marching south, well it certainly didn't create an appealing image in the fire mage's mind. "Suffice it to say Ironridge probably deserves such a fate... although Lysoria could certainly stand for better allies." As dangerous as it was to present sympathy for his own home, Trevor honestly felt by now that he could share that much with Alistair.

The man certainly seemed to be a cautionary tale all on his own, but their kinship with magic led Trevor to believe that Alistair was understanding at least. Whether or not he would be keen to pin the fact Trevor was from Lysoria? Well that certainly depended on how much of a gambling man he truly was. "Some would pity it I'd think, but coming from you that almost sounds... comforting." He admitted with a heavy crease in his brow, a little surprised to actually come out and say that so easily. Did this man already gain his trust so quickly? Or perhaps Trevor felt so isolated up until now, that he couldn't help but reveal some shred of honesty in his life. It didn't seem to really matter though, since he made it pretty obvious he rather enjoyed Alistair's company.

"Truthfully I'm not sorry. I stood up for what I believe in and accept the consequences, still will if it ultimately leads me to saving my people. I guess that's where you and I are more alike than we let on, we both have something we care passionately about." In a sense there resided truth within that statement, as Trevor could tell Alistair cared very much about people like them. Mages always needed someone to look out for them at least, since they could never really do a proper job of taking care of themselves eventually. The Defier did of course note that Alistair appeared to be more watchful, and wondered if it was because he himself came off as a dazzling specimen perhaps. But of course that was all Trevor's own ego, inflating itself whenever the opportunity presented itself the most.

The subject of their magic however felt a much more interesting topic, Trevor's lips tucked upward into a grin as he listened to what the fellow Rupturer had to share. "Fascinating. I haven't really practiced much myself, not a lot of time spent studying the magic I'm afraid. The Spark however intrigues me, I've often felt antsy to just get out and explore Ne'haer at times." He mused with a little bit of mirth just before Alistair asked him about the Elements, and the Defier's eyes brightened with enthusiasm when he answered the Rupturer. "Quite surprisingly they are very chatty. But not in the way you would think." With that implication he raised a finger and then nodded towards the spring.

"Elements tend to communicate through intent rather than actual words, it's almost like a Defier 'feels' the impulse of the message instead. At least... that's how I've learned to describe it. Truth be told I've done more studying than practice and even then, nothing compares to the real experience thus far! Learning to listen to the Elements was certainly the first task I had to manage, which is probably why they're my closest friends above all else. In fact it's almost exactly as cordial as friendship, just with sentient entities rather than actual people." He stated a with enthusiasm and perhaps a bit of confidence as well, for someone who had only studied more than anything; he certainly felt pride in being able to share what he knew.

"Thus far they are my peace. While there are some Trials where I'd prefer to be alone, the Elements usually can understand well enough to not bother. Yet even so they're always there, ready to speak the moment you're ready to listen." Trevor raised an eyebrow with a considerable look shot at Alistair. "Perhaps one Trial we should venture out together? I'm no means an expert on survival and hunting, but I'm sure the Elements could be of some help in your endeavor." He wondered if he'd regret that idea later, since that'd involve leaving the safety of Ne'haer's walls. But it was better than looking for work within them as a sorcerer, and certainly provided an opportunity to hone his craft also.

[Alistair]

Comforting? The mage quirked a brow as Trevor made his assertion. Coming from him, he said, and Alistair repeated the words in his head. Immediately, his instant assumption was that the other man was keen to him, likely in a physical sense. Though, as a Sesser, such assumptions were made quite liberally in these trials. Equally due to his blessing, his assumptions seemed accurate most of the time, though in this case it was not wholly one-sided. Trevor was eccentric, but... attractive, and the sagely way in which he spoke was not a deterrent to Alistair's image of him, but in fact an amplifier to his value.

The mage grew tired of all the... mad mages; the tempests that they liked to be. To see a Defier with wisdom was... a pleasant thing.

Truthfully I'm not sorry. I stood up for what I believe in and accept the consequences, still will if it ultimately leads me to saving my people. Hearing those words, Alistair's heart fastened in pace... because it sounded just like him. The exact same way that he believed - and felt - in regards to Rynmere, and the things he had suffered as a result of his magic. The things he would continue to suffer, if it meant saving all mages on Idalos.

"We are alike," he admitted. Alistair... was beginning to warm up to him, and it showed in his demeanor. He seemed more relaxed, and a smile appeared glued to his features. Trevor had managed to convince him that he was not, in fact, an emotional liability. He was... actually pleasant to talk to. "In our passions, in our idealism," he whispered. In truth, Trevor was right - he was a dazzling specimen. Unique, incapable of being fully replicated.

"It really is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Defier. You are... a curious thing. And the way you commune with the elements, is..." he paused, eyes raising as his expression glimmered with curiosity, "...fascinating. If lonely. Instead of relying solely upon the elements for your semblances of friendship and communication, why not rely on me? I can be rather... fun, I've been told," Alistair laughed lightly, shedding off much of the shell he'd deployed around himself upon their meeting.

That, and he'd managed to rub off all the agitation from the sodding children.

"I'd be happy to venture with you, some trial," he stated with a firm nod. Looking around, and absorbing the attractive set-up Trevor had established - almost like his own... grove - Alistair dribbled through an assortment of thoughts.

"Mind if I pitch a tent, here? I could be the occasional visitor, for when we both... need real interaction," Alistair stated, somewhat embarrassingly. "I'd like to learn of you, and what you did to push yourself into exile. Could be... rather enlightening. And you - well. You could ask me anything, I suppose. Can't guarantee I'm the most entertaining guest; not since I lost all of my pomposity, I'm afraid."