• Closed • [Library] Quiet, not Silent

[Carver]

12th Break, 11 Cylus, Arc 720
The Library, University of Scalvoris

You can't study the darkness by flooding it with light.

The shelves were heavy and oaken and wiped clean of dust. They were of the finest make, with no creaks or bowed curvatures. Cared for and loved, the many rows of bookshelves had no perceivable flaws. From the floor to just above a tall Ithecal’s head, they lined up like soldiers about to march to war. Between each row of the wide shelves, long tables with many basic chairs were placed for studying. At one end, centered by the corridor created by the bookshelves, a brilliant display of a high glass window would have let magnificent arrays of sunlight in, if it had been any other season but Cylus. As it was, only dark perpetual night remained outside. Sconces lit up the place, though, with more than enough illumination to read by.

Below this grand window was the librarian’s desk where a blond woman sat with her chin against her palm and a dreamy look fixed at an empty spot in the timber-supported ceiling. The ceiling itself was adorned with ornate embellishments of design that looked to display pages of script writing in floral frames. Along the sides were smaller enclosed rooms, assumedly for meetings or something like that; as well as smaller study nooks for those who might need a bit more privacy in their studies. The Scalvoris Public Library, which also served as the University of Scalvoris’s main library, proved busy at midtrial’s time. Academy students settled at the tables, books stacked around them, journals and parchments strewn out in variations of order and chaos.

Quiet, but not silent: the faint sounds of coughs, cleared throats, sneezes, murmured whispers, the turn of dry pages, the scribble of quill tips against rough parchment, the clinking of ink wells, the sound of gentle and heavy footsteps alike, an occasional stern shush from a librarian after someone laughed a bit too loudly. The air was unpleasantly dry, kept as such for the books and not for the occupants of the place. Drinks and food were not allowed inside, though an occasional sneak of flasks could be caught by a keen eye who might care. Likely water as none of the students seemed drunk, but one couldn’t tell from sight. Not only dry, but cold as well. Not cold enough to make it so a student couldn’t study for breaks, but enough that those who did required sweaters or scarves.

Carver wore a sweater of thick navy-blue wool, with a small portion of the left forearm’s sleeve sewn over with a beige cotton patch. He had dark trousers belted slightly under the bony jut of his hips and a simple pair of cracked leather boots with iron clasps along the sides rather than laces. A scarf hung loosely around his neck, rather than wrapped around, in striped orange and green knit with fringed ends. His hands were bare though, as he’d set his gloves on the table where he’d left his coat – which was a few rows behind him now. While it made him slightly nervous to leave the articles of clothing unattended, so far, he hadn’t noticed any thievery occurring in the library. He hadn’t visited long, but long enough to get a read on how much he could trust the place. Besides, it wasn’t like he had a great deal of valuables in his coat and if he lost his gloves, he’d merely have to acquire a new pair. In fact, he’d seen an interesting looking pair that far surpassed his own, just across the aisle.

As it was, though, he wasn’t here to pilfer and steal. Carver browsed through the books, still in slight awe at how many there were. He’d always dreamed and fantasized about what a university’s library might look like. While this wasn’t quite as grand as his imaginary beliefs, it still surpassed his expectations somehow. He’d never seen so many books collected in one place, nor books that contained actual information. More information than he even knew what to do with. He could barely speak, since he’d first stepped into the library, and he had started to collect far too many books than he would ever read onto the table where his coat and gloves rested.

That didn’t stop him from wanting more books to add to his growing temporary collection, though. Carver had found his way to an intersection of medicine and magic. He wasn’t aimless in his browsing, despite how it might’ve looked to any observer who noticed that he already had nine books precariously balanced in his arms. Carver searched for any mention of Grafter that he could find. Ever since Quint had called him one, then hadn’t fully explained what it meant other than a type of mage… which didn’t make sense to Carver. In his previous life before he’d died and arrived in the body he now inhabited (about 11 trials ago), and in the world he came from, mages weren’t distinguished like that. A mage was a mage by the grace of prayer, and while different routes could be explored, all types of spells were possible to learn – if one had access to libraries such as these. Not everyone did. He hadn’t. All he had was his hodgepodge of magical words scribbled in his journal, collected over time, with no rhyme or reason or direction to them. Though many of his memories from his past life were slipping away, he still recalled that fact. Magic didn’t work the same, he found. He couldn’t incant, but instead had to feel his way through the magical forces that traveled from inside of him. It felt both natural and bizarre, and he still had trouble making sense of it. He hoped the many library books would help him understand but so far, all that he’d read brought more confusion and even further questions to his mind.

On the top shelf, he caught sight of an interesting scrawl of words along a thick binding: Energizing Enervations: The Wonderous Miracle of Medical Graft Vol I.

Now, he recognized those words from one of the other books he’d skimmed. Carver decided he didn’t just want that book… he needed it. So, he reached up and up – and went on his tiptoes to reach further - but found it to be just out of his easy reach. A frustrated huff escaped him, the exhale fluffed his wavy blond bangs up and to the side. His dark eyes fixed their gaze on the book. He set the books he had in his arms aside, on a mid-shelf, then rolled up his sleeves. Carver jumped this time, and his fingers dully scratched at the binding. The book moved about an inch, then he fell back to the ground empty-handed. He glanced around, but saw no steps to help, and the chairs looked a bit too rickety to dare use for such a thing. Carver decided, then, what made the most sense was that he’d simply use the shelves as steps.

So, he stepped onto the lowest shelf, hands clutched the edges and then he climbed up to the second shelf, then the third while he got in range of the book. The bookshelves were grounded enough that there was no threat of the structure falling over. He grabbed hold of the book, though precariously balanced, and when he victoriously dragged it out from the spot… a cloud of tucked away dust hit him in the face. He coughed. The book proved far heavier than anticipated. It bent his wrist slightly, slipped out of his grip, and tumbled toward the floor with its pages fluttering from the fall. Carver squinted, momentarily blinded by all the dust spores that’d gotten in his eyes, and he slipped away from the shelves – in the hope that he’d land on his feet and not stumble.

[Lars]

12th Break, Cylus 11, Arc 720

The Library, University of Scalvoris

I float too much to wander, like you, in the real world.

Laures had already decided, before they arrived, that he did not like this place. Libraries - or any sort of establishment that could be counted as an educational facility, in truth - were not his first choice when it came to somewhere he might ever want to spend time in. He could not recall a time in which he might have ever enjoyed such things; too many things he cared not to remember, none that he did, and so on… but it would not kill him. He had reminded himself of this fact far too many times since arriving, but after the first few bits had passed and nothing had appeared from the shadows to strike him down, he felt himself start to believe it. It was a foolish fear anyway, he knew, but the knowing did not erase the baseless anxieties that followed the man everywhere he went.

(Besides, he did not want to spoil the fun with his dour attitude towards the place. Knowing what he did about Carver, about how much the younger blond had always wanted to visit such libraries and gather all of the information he possibly could, he could not let himself voice his negative opinions. It would have been insensitive and cruel, to take Carver’s stunned silence as a chance to speak of his own feelings. So, while Carver had quickly taken to scouring the library for every book he could possibly want, Laures had left him alone. He was not sure that his absence was noticed regardless, with how enraptured the other man had seemed with the books.)

Although he had reacquired the ability to read quite recently, he did not find himself jumping at the chance to improve his skills. A well-stocked library such as this would have been the perfect place for it, but after taking an initial walk through the aisles and along the walls to get an idea of the place, he was not drawn in by any section of collected literature in particular. As curious of a person he was, Laures had little interest in whatever there was to be learned in books (not that he knew all that much about what types of books there were anyway). Rather, his curiosities were centered in other people… and there were plenty of those around. Scattered throughout the library at tables and in nooks and looking through the aisles, the Academy’s students provided him, at the very least, with some form of entertainment. Once his quick walkthrough of the library was finished, and the books themselves were deemed an unfit way to spend his time, he decided to learn in other ways.

Observing (and subsequently imitating) behaviors was a far more familiar method to him than reading about them in any book. While he was somewhat curious about what might be learned about the magic of this odd world, he found it difficult to devote much of his attention to it, thinking that he could not use any of it himself. He was incapable of magic of course, as he was incapable of nearly everything - but at least this, this quiet and unobtrusive observation of social behaviors, he could do.

Well… mostly unobtrusive.

First Laures had grabbed a book (not that he’d even glanced at the title), and then he had seated himself at an empty table. His coat was shrugged off, and then came his gloves, and both were set upon the surface beside his opened book. He seated himself and began to read… or at least, he did his best to look like he was reading, while he instead watched the table nearby and the students that occupied it. About four of them, there were, looking through their books and quietly discussing something or other - he did not care to listen. He only watched their faces: the curve of lips as they smiled and frowned, the crinkle of a nose, the angled indications of brows, the tilt of a chin, the way fingers danced over old pages or reached out in friendly touch. And he copied them; subtle though he tried to be, he covered his mouth with his hand as he imitated a peculiar smile, glanced down at his book as he quietly pretended to laugh. The redheaded student over there, she had a light little laugh like the bubbling of creekwater and he wanted it for himself. His old laugh had been so rickety and wrong; he repeated the laugh until the students took notice, and then stood up with a start, shutting his book and leaving the table in silence.

Dressed in a pale green sweater that was far too thin to keep him warm (and that clung a bit more than it should’ve to his slender waist), he’d tucked the light fabric into his highwaisted dark trousers out of habit. His pointed black shoes were only as nice as they were because of the abundance of time he’d spent cleaning them, earlier that trial, but such was just another habit that he was yet to fall out of. In lieu of a scarf, he’d tied a dark kerchief around his neck, and he wore three golden hoops in each ear. This world had not yet provided him with clothing more suited to his particular tastes, but Laures considered himself rather lucky to have woken up in it at all, so the clothes could wait for now.

After his observations at the table were cut short, Laures decided to leave the bigger groups alone. Too many eyes looking back at him, too many ears listening in. Individuals had always been easier to watch, and so he stepped through the aisles of the public library in search of someone alone, someone lost in a book, someone that might not notice him staring and taking note of their every reaction. (Gods, he never did any of this when he was with Carver. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed by himself for being curious about normal behavior, and wanting to improve his own? Maybe he was afraid that if Carver knew how hard he worked to feel real, he would see how fake he really was.)

Pushing a hand back through his hair, his cold fingers dragged through the blond strands, attempting to clear them from his face - but the obstinate locks only fell forward again in a mess of fluffy hair. Laures slipped his hands into his pockets then, and the heels of his shoes clicked in quiet taps against the floor as he walked. A little shiver ran through him - how cold and dry did they need to keep it in here? Sure, he could go back and fetch his coat and his gloves, and then the cold-natured blond might not find himself shivering every few bits, but he was feeling about as obstinate as his hair when it came to approaching those students again. No, he’d just suffer through until they left, and he’d find someone else to watch in the meantime.

He came to a slow stop as he glanced down an occupied aisle. Plush lips curved into a slanted smile, and he watched in silent amusement as Carver reached for a book. What was he doing all the way up there? He’d climbed up the first few shelves as if he’d considered them stairs, and Laures wasn’t sure if that was… the safest way of getting what he wanted. He did not call out to stop him though, seeing as the young blond was already up there and grabbing the desired book, and surely the noise would only startle him - but he did keep an eye on him. The book was retrieved, then dropped to the floor, and Laures’ dark brows raised in surprise as Carver went to follow it. Forcing himself to move again, he slipped into the aisle as quickly as he could, and reached out with both arms in an attempt to catch his fall.

“Maybe don’t do that,” suggested Laures with an amused little smile, “unless the book's worth breaking something over.”

A quick glance to the book that’d fallen in a dusty heap, and he asked, “what is it?”

[Devin]

Snow had begun to fall over the past couple of trials and continued to fall so that the entire island of Scalvoris was covered with a thick white blanket, and the windows of Devin’s house were decorated with fern frost. Under normal circumstances, the young Mortalborn (who wasn’t aware of his divine heritage yet) would have curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace in the living room once he was done with the speech that he was working on (he had recently joined the Council), preferably with some alcohol and his roommate by his side and refused to even set a foot in front of the door. He didn’t like the cold at all – the pleasant weather in Desnind where he had spent the past cycle had spoiled him – but as it was, he couldn’t imagine anything better than going for a walk in freezing temperatures. He needed to know more. In fact, he had never been so excited about anything before!

When he had finally written the last line, he practically rushed up the stairs, into his bedroom, and changed into clothes that were a little more appropriate for the weather than what he was currently wearing, a warm black sweater, a black and golden jacket in a vaguely military style, black pants and boots. A moment later, he found a set of matching jewelry (Grave Gold, as anything less rare and expensive just wouldn’t do), grabbed his coat, a scarf that was made of the finest wool that was available on the island and gloves because he had very little interest in his fingers freezing off, especially after what he had gone through to get them to look like that. Finally, he stuffed his cigar case into the left pocket of his coat, a bottle that was labelled “stomach medicine”, but really contained whiskey into the right pocket, hid a couple of chocolate candies in his pencil case, grabbed his bag and went outside.

Another moment later, he stepped into a pile of snow that was right in front of the door and that was almost as high as his boots and let out a little yelp, followed by an exceedingly vile curse. He pulled his foot out of the pile of snow again, cursed some more, and proceeded to make his way down the path, towards the gate, slowly and carefully, pulling his scarf up to cover the lower half of his face as it was even colder than he had anticipated, and his breath had already begun to form little clouds of mist.

Fortunately, the street that was outside his property had already been cleared of snow earlier that morning, so that the rest of the walk was less bothersome. Approximately fifteen bits in the dark and cold later, he stood in front of the library, smiling all over his face as he did so.

The cycle before, he had met the Grafter Rakvald in Desnind. The man who had more or less been a Lotharro (with a few interesting additions) had replaced his conventional and somewhat useless human nails with very attractive black claws. Since then, he was quite curious about that particular magic – as well as all other magics – to the point that he had actually signed up for a Letter in History and Theory of Magic. There had been a time when he had hated books, but now he just couldn’t get enough of them!

And of course, he couldn’t wait to finally get a bit of magic of his own!

So without further ado, he stomped his feet as he didn’t want to drag the snow inside and finally walked through the door – and straight towards the section where his favourite books were, only stopping briefly in front of the desk of Rose, the head librarian, in order to give her a brilliant smile - as if he didn’t secretly plan on finding a secluded spot once he had collected his reading material in order to drink alcohol and possibly even smoke a bit (both of which were activities that were definitely not allowed in the library) while he went about his research.

“Academic”, the woman greeted him politely and briefly looked up from the piece of paper in front of her that she had just been writing something on before she continued her work.

Once had dumped his coat, his scarf and his gloves that were a little wet now on an empty table, Devin went looking for what he wanted to read that trial. He knew that the books in the library were organized in some fashion (there were numbers and letters and such on the covers). The system confused him a little though, so it took him a while until he had found it – a shelf with books that dealt with magic and medicine (he wanted to improve his nails, but he also wanted to find out more about how he would be able to use Graft in his work).

He had started out as a conventional conman, but he had pretended to be a doctor for so long, that he actually was a real one now and quite passionate about the medical field!

When he was finally close to his prize, he noticed that someone was already there though – and climbing the shelves in order to reach a certain book? His violet eyes widened in surprise and confusion as he took another look at Carver. A moment later, he leaned against a nearby column, crossed his arms over his chest and watched the other man with an amused expression on his face as this promised to be quite entertaining. He wanted to see how high the blonde man would be able to climb – and if he’d fall!

He was just about to wonder if he should help him regardless of the fact that an accident would be much more exciting than no accident, when another man arrived at the scene, blonde, just like the man on the shelf, but a bit older. Before long, Carver jumped, Laures moved towards him in order to catch him, and the book that Carver had tried to grab landed on the floor. Devin looked from one man to the other man before he made a step towards them and leaned forward in order to inspect the cover of the book that Carver had been so interested in. His eyes lit up, and then he quickly took it.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” the Mortalborn gushed, smiling brilliantly and proceeded to leaf through the book. It was even more exciting than he had thought. “This is exactly what I was looking for! Graft is so fascinating, don’t you think? You can even give people new body parts with it! Unless …?” he continued and looked at the two men who seemed to be rather well acquainted, judging by how they acted, his eyes twinkling merrily – before he abruptly held the book out towards them as if he might be willing to part with it, after all.

[Carver]

The book fell and crashed to the floor. Carver fell and landed against the arms of a familiar man. It wasn’t a complete fall but if it hadn’t been for Laures’ swift catch, he likely would have stumbled on the heels of his new boots and landed flat on his back. Maybe even hit his head on the nearest chair. He grabbed onto his companion’s arm, with no thought about it and clung to the limb for the extra stability. He returned the older’s amused smile with one of his own. His smile wasn’t as small, though, a happy display of his near-perfect teeth.

“Maybe it is,” – worth breaking something over – “I haven’t looked at it yet. I think it’s about magic, the uh- Graft and-”

His expressive eyes widened when another man picked up the book from the floor. Where had he come from? Carver regained independent balance. He quickly moved away from Laures. Fixing his sweater, he smoothed his palms over the wool and pressed it against his slim waist. He stared, baffled, when the dark-haired man exuberantly thanked him. What was he thanking him for? Wait… he wasn’t taking the book, was he? The stranger’s questions distracted him, though.

“Unless…?” he returned with confusion blatant on his youthful and softly pampered features. He reached out, with an open palm, in gesture for the heavy book to be handed over – at the exact same time that the taller human offered the book as if willing to part with it. Carver grabbed onto the binding, and he tugged to forcibly take the tome while he asked, “What do you mean, new body parts?”

Carver had little trouble asking the question and whether he had gotten the book, he collected the other books that he’d left on the shelf. He stacked them against the crook of his arm and aimed to set the newest addition on the top of the other nine. It was a trick to balance them all as the different types of covers slid over each other. As much as he appreciated having books to scour for knowledge, Carver had lived a life where he mostly had to talk with people to gain information.

So, while he turned as if to make away with his books, he paused with an uncertain glance at Laures. Carver turned back to face Devin and stepped forward. He awkwardly moved the books to the one arm, while he held out his free hand in offer to shake the stranger’s hand. Carver inclined his head in a flip of his messy blond hair to get a better glance at the other man. He liked the dark outfit, a lot, and noticed the fancy jewelry too. His gaze lingered on the accessory. Books precariously balanced, he kept his hand out in patient offer for the shake. He introduced himself in his raspy voice, “I’m uh- My name’s Carver.”

“If you wanted the book… I guess I have enough for now because the books come back here, right? They don’t disappear or anything. You’ll return it, yeah?” He still worked to understand the concept of borrowing books rather than just taking them. Gnawing at the corner of his bottom lip with his canine tooth, he surveyed Devin closer. A sweep of his gaze from black hair to black boots and up again to stare at the violet eyes; they were so vibrantly bright, violet with blues trapped in the irises. Carver’s own eyes were dark, not because of the brown irises but because his pupils were dilated as if he were currently intoxicated on a stimulant drug of some sort. The blond glanced at Laures. He thought to introduce the other man but wasn’t sure what name that his husband wanted to go by. Instead, he returned his attention to Devin when he asked with a curious tone of voice, “Are you a Grafter too?”

[Lars]

It wasn’t like Carver to be so clumsy, but it was exactly like him to be so reckless in his hungry pursuits for knowledge. It was for that reason that Laures had stayed to watch him, rather than continue on in his own journey to find a more distracted student to study, and why he had known to step into the aisle and help as soon as Carver dropped the book. The air was full of dust, unleashed by the removal of the tome from the shelves and kicked up by its descent, and Laures stifled a cough as the other man fell against his arms. The sudden weight against him knocked him back ever so slightly, but he retained his balance well enough, and kept a steady hold on Carver until the man could do it himself.

“Graft and…?” he prompted, but before he could get an answer to his question, someone else appeared.

Violet-eyed and dressed in shadows, another man appeared beside them, reaching down to retrieve the book in question. Carver pulled away from him, and Laures’ arms were dropped to his sides, his attention fixed on the newcomer for a moment. Thanking Carver as if he’d just presented him the world on a silver platter, the dark-haired stranger (a student, perhaps?) flipped through the heavy book’s dusty pages, his enthusiasm shining as brightly as his pretty jewelry. Laures’ eyes were caught on this, curious and blue, and he had to force himself to look away from the jewelry as he heard his husband’s raspy voice.

Fascinating? New body parts? Laures’ eyes darted between the two men to watch the odd exchange. Was this taller man (he would’ve towered inches over his old body, he noted) a grafter too, as Quint had called it? He stepped a little to the side then, wary. He still didn’t know much about the mages of this world, and certainly didn’t know enough to trust them. Laures remained silent as he watched Carver tend to his books, weighing down his arms with about nine of them, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from flicking over every few trills to look at the stranger’s jewelry. He couldn’t help it, really. It was so much nicer than the golden earrings he’d been so delighted to acquire himself.

Carver introduced himself and held out a hand to the dark-haired man. Laures’ hands were kept safely at his sides, restless and tapping away at his thighs. He’d never gotten used to shaking hands, himself, and he didn’t care to do so now. Instead, he dipped his head in a polite bow. He wasn’t sure why Carver had given out his name like that, so easily… but he supposed that it didn’t matter, if these people knew their names. Laures could even give his own. For once, he wasn’t running away from anything, so why not offer the truth while he could?

Still, he didn’t say anything. Too nervous about it, he supposed, and too out of practice when it came to talking with strangers. Laures crossed his arms loosely over his chest, to force his restless hands to remain still, and did his best not to stare at the grave gold adornments while he observed. Carver asked the question he’d been wondering himself, and he did let his gaze shift then, settling on Devin’s face with a curious look.

[Devin]

“Unless you want it?“ Devin finished the sentence and raised a dark eyebrow as he thought about what he should in regard to the book do some more. He had just decided that he might keep his prize after all even though the other man had seen it first because he just loved Graft so much and was definitely not an upstanding member of society when Carver abruptly tugged at the book which surprised him so much that he let go of it more or less automatically. He wasn’t irritated about that though. He just smiled because the blonde had just asked him about one of his favourite topics. New body parts!

“You know, extra arms and legs and eyes - not that I’d ever want those, I don’t want to look like a freak, after all – or even a new heart. You can also put monster parts or animal parts on people!” he proclaimed in a thoroughly enthusiastic tone of voice before his gaze flittered towards Laures who had barely said anything so far for some reason for a moment. “I’m not sure about the exact mechanics and where those new body parts get their blood supply from, but they work – most of the time, at least!” he added as if the thought of non-functional grafted additions didn’t bother him in the least.

It didn’t. His nails hadn’t fallen off so far, and he didn’t really care about the rest. Besides, he’d be able to treat the victims of Graft gone wrong in his former second bedroom modern, perfectly equipped and utterly safe clinic and make some money, so it all worked out!

“Devin. Devin Thorn, doctor, priest and politician”, he introduced himself and shook Carver’s hand without hesitation (which would allow Carver to take a closer look at his hands if he wanted to) before he turned to Laures and bowed to him, as if the blonde were some sort of noble lord. “They are nice, aren’t they?” he remarked a moment later, having noticed the way that the other man looked at the fancy golden accessories. “Grave Gold changes color when it is exposed to blood. I usually don’t wear my jewelry when I operate on people though as it can get in the way. And no, the books don’t disappear!” he assured Carver. “You can borrow them, but if you don’t return them within a few trials, you are in trouble!”

“I’ll put it back here once I’m done!” he promised. He didn’t think about Carver’s dilated pupils or even notice them as such details were rather minor, everything considered, and he was focused on other things – such as Carver’s companion who still hadn’t said much. Not that he minded, of course. He was used to dealing with people that didn't talk much - or at all. He had even investigated a murder with a man that had been completely mute and that had been called Mute, strangely enough, once. Besides, Laures did have interesting looking golden earrings!

“No, I’m not a Grafter”, he continued in a light-hearted tone, smiling at Laures before he turned to face Carver once more. “I considered becoming one, but I’m not at all sure about the initiation. It’s kind of brutal, from what I’ve managed to research so far. I’m more interested in getting things grafted and studying Graft on a theoretical level, although I do have something that's kind of like magic and plan on getting more!” he added before he abruptly did a double take. “Wait! Did you just ask me if I’m a Grafter as well? Does that mean that you are a Grafter? Is your companion a Grafter as well? What was the initiation like?” he wanted to know. The questions nearly poured forth from his mouth for a few moments before he stopped himself and tried to speak more slowly again as he realized that they might have trouble understanding him otherwise.

“Was it as unpleasant as it sounds? Did you get heartburn?” he asked, blushing, and lowered his voice slightly as Rose might complain if he talked too loudly in her precious library (or even ban him from the library in spite of his new and prestigious position). “And do you have to swallow it as is or can you make it … well … a little more tolerable before you eat it?”

[Carver]

While Laures stayed mostly quiet, the stranger filled the otherwise silence between them with more information than Carver could have even hoped for. His dark eyes widened when he heard the explanation of extra limbs. What? What even… Monster parts or animal parts on people. Wait, had he said a new heart? As in two hearts or could the original heart be removed?

By the time Devin Thorn shook his hand, Carver had gotten entirely fascinated by what had first been said. He felt – were those claws?… wait, priest and politician as well as a doctor? What did that mean? Was he supposed to have titles that accompanied his name as well? What was Antoni? That didn’t matter. He didn’t want to be Antoni. He wasn’t Antoni. While he might have considered using Antoni’s already settled tuition to pay for his own schooling, Carver had little interest in changing his life to conform with a dead man’s. So far, it seemed fine as not many people knew of Antoni in Scalvoris Town, or if they did, they didn’t assume it was him and didn’t bother him about it like the people in Egilrun had.

Almost too distracted by his thoughts and what the other man had already said, he almost didn’t notice the bow to Laures. Was the doctor-priest-politician mocking his sweetheart? Carver’s brows furrowed. In a reluctant manner, he lifted the heavy book from the stack in his arms and then handed it back for Devin to take if he wanted it still.

Carver tried to keep track of what Devin said next. He prided himself in being able to make sense of words, and mangle his own words in lies, but he found himself at a loss with how to handle the topic of initiation. He still didn’t fully understand the concept. Most of the books he found that even touched on the subject, did so in ways that assumed one already understood it.

“Kind of like magic? What do you mean by kind of?” he inquired on that point, albeit his voice was soft and slightly weaker than before. He changed the hold on his books to his other arm. Was he supposed to be open about his relation to Grafting? He didn’t know anymore. “I uh… no, just me. I'm a Grafter.”

Now, Carver had no idea what Devin referenced when he talked about initiation for Graft. He had no idea why an initiation might cause heartburn, nor what he meant by swallowing it. The younger blond glanced at Laures once more, then back to the taller man who blushed (and the dusting of color looked so vibrant against Devin’s ivory skin). Was the initiation something to blush over? He cleared his throat and flipped his bangs to the side.

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a raise of his eyebrows. “It didn’t bother me.”

Hopefully, that kept it vague enough. It was true though; he didn’t know, and it didn’t bother him. Because he’d never experienced whatever this initiation was. His fingers scratched against the bindings of the books he kept. He glanced at the end of the aisle where one of the librarians walked past. Carver paused, then he looked back at the dark-haired man with wide eyes and an expression of realization.

“Wait. You said Devin Thorn? Are you related to… is it Professor Thorn?” he recalled the name mentioned while he’d been hunting potential teachers to interrogate inquire for various information that he felt lacking in the gradual investigation of the world him and his lover had found themselves in.

Carver bit on his lower lip, then licked at the spot. He turned to Laures. “Love, could you find our coats and such? Are you hungry? Thirsty, right?”

Regardless of how the older blond might answer, he turned his attention back to Doctor Thorn and asked Devin, “Would you like to talk where we don’t have to whisper? I heard there is a café nearby. Do you know? My treat… I’ll pay.”

[Lars]

Extra… arms and legs and eyes? Laures could easily admit that he was lost already. In truth, he didn’t know how things worked anyway - he didn’t really know what made one’s limbs and eyes and heart work, to know if it should’ve been impossible to add more. So while the implications surprised him, he could not say that they were more outlandish than anything else, to him. He caught the stranger’s violet gaze, and his own averted, as if he wasn’t sure if he was meant to look at him at all. Was he a student? Laures didn’t really… know how to act around students, anymore. Not in real conversation. He was far more used to being talked down to by them, or ignored completely, and he had not yet figured out which of the two paths this man would take.

Devin Thorn, he said, doctor, priest, and politician. He couldn’t tell if all the titles were a joke, but from the way they were said, he supposed the man was being serious. Carver’s hand was accepted, and Laures assumed that his own quiet greeting would pass without much notice… but Devin bowed, properly, and the older blond’s surprise was clear on his fine features. Was he joking, again, or was it one of those things that Laures just couldn’t tell? He hardly deserved the respect, himself, if Devin’s intentions were sincere, and he wasn’t sure how to react to it. He was not given much of a chance to, regardless, as the violet-eyed man addressed him soon after.

His inspections caught, Laures’ face colored, his cheeks dusted a rosy pink. Gods, he was so dreadfully bad at this, wasn’t he?

“Oh, uh - yes, they’re… beautiful,” admitted the quiet blond, his eyes having settled on the mentioned jewelry again, a little less shyly now that he’d been caught. Grave Gold? Laures had never heard of such a thing, and though he was clueless as to where one might acquire some, he wanted it. Wouldn’t it be lovely, to see it change hue? What color was it when exposed to blood? He wanted to see it, terribly. He couldn’t just reach out and take it though, even if the thought occurred to him. Devin and Carver had already moved on, but he wondered still, and stared curiously at the jewelry until he noticed the owner looking at him again.

Why did he keep looking at him? He hadn’t interrupted them. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid, though, as Devin smiled soon enough and Laures had almost built up enough courage to return it. Almost.

Devin mentioned something about initiation… something that Laures didn’t understand, but he tried to follow. He still didn’t know how magic worked in this world, but he’d never had the ability to learn how it’d worked in the last, so he assumed that the same was true for here. Nothing he needed to waste time on, if he couldn’t use it anyway. The word companion reminded him again of his lacking social grace, and he cursed himself for not having given a name before, to make it easier.

“I’m Liv - Lar -” but that didn’t help either. “Laures. Sorry.”

What exactly he was apologizing for was unclear, but - most likely, everything. He had forgotten just how difficult it was to speak with anyone besides his husband, in casual settings. Perhaps if he was still obligated to do so, his skills might not have floundered now, but he wasn’t about to find work at the nearest brothel just to up his social skills again. He could struggle through, and he could just forget about it later.

He might have made himself ask a rather important question about the matter of initiation (that being, what the hell is it) had Carver not spoken to him then, and Laures’ eyes darted to his lover’s face. Was he… what? Was Carver embarrassed of him, was that why he wanted him to run along and fetch their coats? No, no. Laures would have understood, if that were the case, but he was still being paranoid. Besides, Carver was right. He might not be hungry, but the dry air of the library left him parched (even if he would likely not get the sort of drink he really needed). He gave a short nod, opting not to respond so that he might not make things any worse for himself. Another glance at Devin, almost inquisitive in nature, before Laures turned away to do as Carver had asked of him. His hand lightly brushed against his elbow, and then the older blond was gone, slipping out of the aisle with a silent grace that had apparently not worked on his mouth.

Laures moved quickly, calmer once he was on his own, and grabbed their coats and gloves from different tables. And if his husband and Devin had not left the aisles, then he would begin his quiet return, coats folded neatly over his arm.

[Devin]

“Oh, thank you so much!“ Devin replied when Carver handed the book back to him, flipped through it some more and grinned because there was so much interesting stuff in it before he closed it again and looked at the blonde man. He continued, in the same exuberant tone of voice as before, “I have a blessing! I can make things as light as a feather, I can talk through mirrors, and I can grow steel feathers on my arms – and sometimes I can see things before they happen. I’m not sure where that ability comes from though”, he admitted and furrowed his brow for a moment. It had been two seasons since he had predicted the future for the first time, and he was still none the wiser which irritated him since he was normally pretty good at figuring things out.

“It’s definitely not from Delroth because foresight is not one of his domains. Maybe my accident has something to do with it though?” he mused and shrugged his shoulders before he offered, “Anyway, I can give you a demonstration if you are interested. Just pick a random heavy object, and I’ll use my ability on it and lift it!”

Having said that, he turned to Laures once more. When Carver’s shy companion agreed that his Grave Gold accessories were beautiful, he practically beamed at him and looked extraordinarily happy (he was not particularly hard to please; a tiny compliment about him or his belongings was all that it usually took). “They are, aren’t they?” he remarked. “I’ve even started to make my own jewelry, but I’m not very good at it yet”, he added in a softer tone of voice as he was kind of embarrassed about his lack of skill.

Laures blushed, the Mortalborn noticed, but he didn’t mind that, just like he hadn’t minded the other man’s being so quiet. He seemed to be listening to him, and he seemed to be fairly friendly, and that was what really mattered.

Carver had just claimed that the initiation hadn’t bothered him though, so his gaze shot towards the more talkative half of the couple again, and his eyes widened until they looked as if they were ready to drop out of their sockets. Devin, Carver and Laures would notice, seemed to be absolutely and genuinely in awe all of a sudden. “Wow”, he made. He was at a loss for words for a moment which was something that almost never happened. Carver had just stated that he hadn’t minded eating someone’s regurgitated flesh though. That was pretty amazing!

It never occurred to him that Carver might not have been entirely truthful. Even though Devin was a conman and a councilor (which was more or less the same if you thought about it), he usually assumed that people were being honest with him. How could they not be?

When Carver asked him if he was related to Professor Thorn, Devin furrowed his brow again. A moment later, he proceeded to scratch his head in confusion. He tried to remember if he had ever met a Professor Thorn at the Academy (or heard of him – or her – before). He didn’t think so. The only Thorn that taught there was him, a Diploma student that taught clueless low-level students, mostly because he had to (if you wanted to get a Diploma, you needed to teach) and not because he enjoyed teaching so much (although having an audience that couldn’t just leave if they didn’t like the show had potential, if you thought about it).

Maybe Carver had meant him? There were people that called everybody that taught at the Academy professor, after all, regardless of their actual status. Yes, he decided a moment later (because he liked being called Professor Thorn much better than just being called Mister Thorn), he had definitely meant him. So, without further ado, he informed the blond, grinning, “That’s actually me, Carver. I’m Professor Thorn. You see, I teach at the Academy every now and then!”

When Laures introduced himself, the Mortalborn turned to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Laures”, he remarked. These were not just empty words. Devin really meant it. The man had complimented his Grave Gold accessories, so he was in his good books. Not everybody was!

When Carver asked him if he would like to talk where they didn’t have to whisper, Devin cast a glance the librarian that had just walked past him and glared at him and nodded. “That would be a good idea”, he decided and grabbed his coat, his gloves and his scarf from the table where he had deposited them which led to his golden cigar case nearly tumbling out of the pocket. He quickly stuffed it back in, hoping that nobody had noticed. A moment later, he was already ready to go.

“So, you two are together?” he asked in a good-natured tone of voice, provided that Carver and Laures still wanted to go and hadn’t suddenly changed their mind. “Are you students?” he wanted to know. “Sorry, I know that it’s none of my business. I’m just wondering!” he explained. Of course, he didn’t really care that something was none of his business. On the contrary, he loved sticking his nose into other people’s business!

[Carver]

Carver’s thoughts swam about, while he tried to not drown under the deluge of astonishing information. It wasn’t that bizarre, as every trial he got a bit more used to the oddities of the world from lizardmen to color-changing eyes. In the books he’d skimmed so far, there was lots mentioned but so much seemed so… unreal. He couldn’t be sure what was exaggeration and what was sincere. The dark-haired man, who rambled so easily on with what he was capable of, seemed perfectly sincere though – and Carver should know, he was a decent liar. Though his skills had waned as of late. He had noticed it with Quint first, and now again, here. Wanting to live with Laures openly and confidently, had lessened some part of him that could lie as swift and sharply as he used to be able to. As if the desire was not compatible with that devious part of him that crafted masks to wear over himself.

Perhaps he should make one. Not a stolen identity, which was what Antoni would have been, but something else. He didn’t feel exposed by sharing his name with the other man, as he wanted to be known for who he was… to a point. No one would ever know him as much as Laures did. So, who could Carver be? Carver felt uncertain, and that uncertainty bled through his pale imitation of a potential persona. His masks were always built around understanding the world around him though, and knowing what people expected of him. He had no idea what people expected of him in this world with people like this Devin Thorn. Who could he be in this moment with this exuberant bright-eyed man who claimed to be blessed with abilities that were like magic, yet not magic? Carver still wasn’t sure what he’d meant by it. Making things light as a feather, and especially talking through mirrors sounded like magic to him.

Regardless, Carver tried to manage the conversation the best he could – and for now, he wouldn’t confuse matters with needless facades. At least, he didn’t think they were needed yet… but as Devin stared at him (why was he staring at him like that?), Carver started to feel uncertain. Had he said something wrong? Should the initiation have bothered him? He bit into his bottom lip again and gnawed at the chapped flesh until it turned ruddy from the anxious mistreatment. It was a habit he had gotten into, a habit that gave his mouth something to do instead of talk and get himself into further trouble. It kept his pearly teeth clean too, unlike smoking cigarettes. Carver didn’t want to discolor or weaken his teeth with the sepia stain of tobacco, so the blood-dappled bruises on his lower lip were preferable.

His dark eyes widened slightly when the clarification that the doctor was also the professor, and of course that made sense. It didn’t stop Carver, however, from blurting out, “But you look so young!” The shocked volume of his voice echoed, and he heard an angry hush from nearby. Were professors and doctors meant to be as young as the other man seemed to him? Devin hardly looked any older than himself. Yet he taught at the Academy? He was the man interested in… what had it been… medicine? Carver couldn’t remember now, so taken aback by everything from the simple run-in at the shelves, but he asked the other if he wanted to go elsewhere to talk further.

Carver waited, then, and set aside his books. He’d refind them later, during another visit. Of course, while he waited, the glint of gold had caught his attention when he saw the familiar shape of a cigar case nearly fall out of Devin’s pocket. He didn’t mention it though, nor tried to make it obvious that he’d seen it. Laures returned soon enough (thank the gods) and Carver quickly put his outer wear on. He fastened his coat and once his gloves were snug, he made sure that Laures had also bundled up. Carver didn’t think much of it, as he checked how tight the older blond’s coat was. He took his orange and green scarf off, then wrapped it over the dark kerchief around Laures’ neck. His sweetheart always was so much more susceptible to the cold, he wanted to be certain that Laures would not get uncomfortable on however long the walk would be. In a folded knot, he tightened the scarf up, then brushed a thumb across the other’s cheek with a small smile in the sort of moment that lasted only a couple trills but made obvious a romantic connection (as if it weren’t obvious already).

That done, he nodded and easily fell into step to leave the library. He paused when he heard Devin’s questions. Only momentarily, though, as he shrugged and answered, “Sure.”

Which the answer was meant for, or if it was meant for both, he didn’t elaborate. He did, however, grab onto Laures’ hand the very trill they stepped outside of the library and into the snowy cold. Fortunately, the path around the library was paved clear of snow – as was the path to the café he hoped to go to... maybe. Carver, however, looked at Devin and then admitted, “I- uh… we’re new to town, and I don’t know the way to the place. I was hoping maybe you know, Doctor… Professor…”

What was he supposed to call the other man? Was he supposed to be casual or? Carver didn’t know the appropriate etiquette, so he erred on the side of caution. “Doctor-Professor Thorn. Also… you said you could give a demonstration before? I wouldn’t mind seeing what you meant by talking through mirrors. If you could, sometime, doesn't have to be now. We can get something to drink first. Just lead the way?”

He glanced at Laures, the grip of his hand on the other's tightened as he moved to entwine their fingers. Carver leaned a little closer to the older blond, and his raspy voice hushed as he asked, “You're okay, right? You don't mind?”