Apprentice (ze_kraken x Peregrine)



"Won't the beasts find us?" She asked as she followed the stranger, a note of trepidation and fear dripping through her tone. "Might not they track our scent? Or can you make that disappear, too?"

The sun had set rapidly, and Eswild had not even noticed it - the forest was dark and uninviting now, especially so now that she knew what lurked and stalked behind them. She trudged along, boots sloshing in the damp earth as she fought to put one foot in front of the other. She walked with her shoulders slumped, feeling the weight of her situation crash over her. Her single-minded determination to find and kill the stranger had dissipated with the realization that this was the stranger, and she was in no position to do anything to him.

Besides, she reminded herself, she was his apprentice now, after a fashion. He was going to teach her magic - not that she had the fondest idea what that entailed. The mages that had passed through town never explained to her what it was like, and her own Knack had felt often as easy as using her fingers to tie a knot or twist a doorknob.

With thoughts of apprenticing, her mind drifted back to Gilan. Gilan. She swallowed back a lump in her throat and she felt tears tugging at the corners of her eyes. She blinked, feeling one or two slide down her cheeks in spite of herself. Swiftly she rubbed them aside, casting a glance towards the stranger to check if he had seen. Fortunately he had not yet, not that she trusted he was not capable of seeing past his eyes as well.

"Where are we going?" She finally asked.

 
"They aren't that clever," the stranger replied to Eswild's question, seeming far more interested in observing the forest, or something else that surrounded them, than he was in her words. "Maybe once they might have been, but no longer. Now, they're maddened. All they know how to do is run in the direction they're pointed, and obliterate anything that has the misfortune of getting in their way."

The little light that bobbed along obediently behind the stranger was far brighter than any torch or lamp. If it wasn't for the size and lack of any sort of heat, it might have seemed even brighter than the sun. That, and it was oddly gentle for such a bright light, not stinging the eyes at all even if one stared right at it, nor did it leave behind any dark spots upon looking away. It's brightness, however, made walking in the forest at night hardly any different from walking during the day, if it wasn't for the deep shadows that loomed off in the distance behind every tree.

The stranger, for his part, seemed to be walking with absolute confidence. Whether that was because he was actually familiar with the area, simply knew where he was going, or was simply too unconcerned about where they ended up to care was hard to tell. However, he paused slightly, glancing over his shoulder at Eswild as she spoke again.

"We are going to a mana vein," he replied, gesturing vaguely ahead of them. "It's an earth vein, so it won't be all that helpful to you, but the raw density of mana will make your introduction a bit easier. That, and earth is by far the most suitable to help me build us a residence, so there's no reason not to take advantage of it."
 


Questions bubbled inside Eswild as they walked. Mana vein? Building a residence? How? With what? Would they be living in a mud hovel while she learned... while she learned magic. Magic, she told herself. The kinds they tell stories of, only I've never heard of a blacksmith's apprentice making it into the songs.

As they walked, Eswild studied the stranger in the soft glow of his floating bulb of light. He looked like the sorts of wizards and warlocks she had heard tales of as a child - clouded in mystery, walking with an unseen purpose, and clad in robes that seemed at times to flap dramatically in the wind and else wise stand still with an impossible rigidity depending upon the stranger's brisk pace.

What he did not look like was any other mage Eswild had seen, not that she was an expert on the matter, she supposed. The farmer's guild in her village had tried to enlist the help of earth mages every harvest season as far back as she could remember. Some years a number of them had come to help till the fields and harvest the crops, and all of them had dressed plainly enough - if not for their ability to manipulate earth with their minds, she would have thought them just another traveler.

"You don't look like any mage I've seen," she finally said after mulling it over. "Are you from one of the big families? Did you teach them?"

 
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Since Eswild fell silent after the stranger finished his explanation of where they were going, the man himself seemed to have no interest in continuing to speak any further either. If he could feel Eswild's eyes persistently roaming across his back, he completely ignored it.

The stranger maintained a fast pace as they continued forward. For all he said about there being no risks that the beasts would follow them, it seemed that he was still in something of a hurry to reach their destination. However, his pace was still calm and confident, which made his fast pace seem far more purposeful than panicked. Perhaps he simply wanted to reach their destination a bit sooner.

However, he slowed quite abruptly when Eswild spoke once more, before finally turning around to face her. It seemed her question had finally caught his full attention, although whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. He stared at her for a second, before sighing slightly and shaking his head. "Those fools?" he finally replied. "No. I am not from one of the 'families', and nor have I ever, or will I ever, teach them anything."

It was hard to tell whether or not he was disdainful of the 'big families' that Eswild had mentioned. More than anything, he just seemed disappointed. Shaking his head, he turned forward again. "Enough questions for now. Focus on keeping up."

True to his word, the stranger sped up at that point, although he didn't seem to be walking any faster. Instead, it was like one of those moments in a dream, where every step seemed to carry him further away instead of closer. However, he never truly left Eswild behind, nor cast her so far back that she was blocked from the radiance of the little light.

And then, quite abruptly, they passed through the gap between two massive trees and then came to a halt, entering a small clearing that was centered around an absolutely massive tree. "We're here," the stranger said calmly.

At first glance, other than the mighty tree that flourished before them, it didn't seem that much different from the rest of the forest. However, despite that, there was still definitely something mildly different about the space. Maybe it was a crisp sweetness in the air, or the way the grass and moss that surrounded the tree seemed to grow with a particularly vibrant green luster. The stranger nodded in satisfaction, stepping forward across the clearing to rest a hand against the tree.

There was a rustling in the tree's limbs, at first sound like nothing more than the brush of the wind. But the trembling rapidly began to grow greater, before the trunk of the tree seemed to fold open in front of the stranger. What stood immediately in front of him then, was a door. He opened it casually, before gesturing for Eswild to enter.

Through the door, it was possible to see a round room. Empty bookshelves lined the walls, and a flight of stairs curved up to a second floor off to the right. Everything within the house was made of solid wood, except for little lights that hung from what looked like a chandelier. A carpet of soft, dry moss grew in the center of the room like a carpet, and on the far side of the room a small fire lit up in what appeared to be a hearth.

"After you," the stranger said softly.
 


Eswild hurried along, following the stranger at a brisk pace as he began to stride faster through the woods. Only, his gait had not changed, and Eswild felt a rush of dizziness as their surroundings seemed to flash past. Time crawled along at the same pace, however, and Eswild swiftly found herself dwelling on her village once again. Shadows lurked and jumped at her from beyond the trees, and if not for the stranger's oddly comforting presence she might have collapsed and sobbed until the dawn came. She had more questions - more than leaves on the trees around them - but she kept her tongue, wishing not to agitate the stranger further.

After some time had passed, Eswild's limbs just starting to protest with weariness at their forced march but before the glimpses of dawn could be seen peering out from above the canopy of leaves circling their heads, the pair arrived at what Eswild assumed was this "mana vein" the stranger had described. The air felt fresher in her lungs than it had been, but perhaps that was due to the tree itself - it was larger than any Eswild had seen, and she wondered why the townsfolk had not yet spoke of it. She was not one to venture off on her own, but she had to believe others might have. Her eyes drifted to the stranger.

Might be we're leagues away from home now, she thought. Or perhaps we wandered in a circle and just doubled back.

She could not be sure with the stranger. Eswild watched with interest as the stranger laid a hand upon the tree, jolting back in shock as the tree... moved. Its bark crackled as the trunk folded, and before Eswild could entirely grasp what had happened she stood before a plain doorway that had looked as if it had simply been carved from the tree by a carpenter's hands. As if that had not been enough, when the stranger reached over and casually flung open the door, there was... there was a room.

"How did you..." Eswild started, mouth agape.

The man can make himself immaterial, and carving a room from a tree seems a stretch? She reprimanded herself. Foolish girl.

The dwelling looked like it had emerged from the fairy tales Gilan's wife had told Eswild as a child. Eswild half-expected to hear the chattering of a nymph, or catch the glittering wings of a fairy shuffle about the dwelling. She took an uneasy step inside, feeling as though the floor might give way under her or else the illusion would shatter by her interference. Still, the wood floor thunked solidly underfoot, and when she brushed her fingertips along the bookshelves she felt real bindings, ones that even left a touch of grit and sawdust along her fingertips.

"What is this place?" She finally asked, continuing to wander the dwelling, eyes filled with wonder. "How did you learn to do this?"

 
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The stranger stepped into the new residence behind Eswild, closing the door behind him as he moved. It remained behind on the wall, looking for all the word like any other door, and not something that had just folded out from within a tree. However, it also seemed that the door had no intention of disappearing as quickly and easily as it had appeared. For his part, the stranger's face was a mask of calmness. Clearly he didn't consider what he'd just done as particularly exceptional. Perhaps it was simply a minor matter for him, or maybe he'd grown used to such sights.

However, he still laughed slightly at the sight of Eswild's awestruck reaction. "This will be our residence for the next while," he replied, moving forward to sit down on one of the chairs that surrounded the rectangular table that stood at the center of the room. He sprawled out slightly on the chair, leaning heavily against the backrest with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. "As for how I learned to do this, I learned it the same way everyone learns everything. Through a mixture of instruction, practice, and experimentation.

"We can begin now, if you wish, although I figure you might prefer to get some rest first." He gestured towards the stairway that led upstairs around the curved edge of the room. "Your room is the first door upstairs. Or, have a seat, and we'll begin your first lesson."
 


It was not until the stranger offered the prospect of rest did Eswild begin to feel the exhaustion tugging behind her eyes, eroding away her curiosity almost instantaneously and ushering her to what she hoped was a warm and welcoming bed upstairs. She let out a soft yawn, lifting one hand to cover her mouth while another rested atop the back of one of the chairs around the table. Eswild had still half expected to feel her hand slip through the chair and throw her off balance, but she was greeted with the soft touch of shorn and treated wood. It was cool to the touch, and its grain felt better than anything than any other carpenter's work she had witnessed first-hand as she brushed her fingertips delicately over the arch of the chair's back.

Instruction, practice, and experimentation, she thought as her fingers lingered at the crest of the arch. Which one of those taught him to do this as well?

"I should rest," Eswild finally spoke up. "I've no clue what time it is, but time's lost meaning for a while and I've grown weary."

She bid the stranger good night and proceeded up the stairs, gingerly pushing open the door to her room. It was less made of planks held together by iron hinges than it was simply a single, fused piece of wood - it was as if it had been sculpted from a block of lumber rather than cut and shaped. Inside, Eswild was met with a room larger than any she had known as a child. Though Gilan had been gracious and given her a room to call her own, that had only sufficed until she had grown older.

I still remember thinking that room the largest in the world, before my feet hung over the bed's edge, Eswild reflected as she sat at the edge of the bed flush with the right-hand wall.

Thinking it best not to question where the stranger had produced comfortable down sheets, Eswild rubbed the fingertips between her fingers, feeling the fabric almost melt between them. Gilan's own sheets had not been half so luxurious, but Eswild found herself missing the rough scratch of their rough-spun wool texture. She could feel the gentle tug become fiercer as she leaned back, feeling the mattress below her give way and envelop her in the softness of the sheets. She did not remember slipping off her boots, or pulling herself on to the bed and wrapping herself in the sheets, or even her head enveloping itself in the welcoming folds of her pillow but there Eswild found herself.

Slowly, the darkness overcame here, and rest finally pulled her deep into its warm embrace.

 
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There would be nothing to disturb Eswild's sleep for many hours. Perhaps it was because they were inside the depths of a giant tree, but the interior of their new residence was almost completely silent, undisturbed by the noises that would typically fill a natural space, such as the sound of the wind, insects, or even birdsong. The room also only brightened slightly as the sun rose, the little lights on the wall dimming to be replaced with a diffuse amber glow that percolated through the outer wall of Eswild's room.

What would eventually come to disturb the young woman from her rest was no noise, but instead a gentle awakening from the percolation of the rich smell of meat, cheese, and soft bread that rose upwards from the room downstairs.

Downstairs, it was as though the stranger hadn't moved at all. He was still seated at the table, lounging in one of the wooden chairs. A fire still crackled in the hearth. The only changes to the room were two. First, the chandalier overhead had gone dark, to be replaced with the same mild glow that had come to fill Eswild's room, only notably more vibrant. Second, a plate of food was now resting on the center of the round table.

The stranger glanced up the stairs as Eswild came down into the lower room, before gesturing towards a plate of food that rested in the center of the table. Soft, flaky bread had been curled into the shape of a spiral, with thin slices of a dark pink meat curled in the gaps of the swirl. Dark orange cheese had been melted over the top of each pastry, before the entire thing appeared to have been baked to a golden brown perfection, with only the very edges of the meat singed into a brown bordering on black.

"Food," the stranger said, appearing rather indifferent to the meal laid out before him. "Eat as much as you want."
 


When Eswild woke, it was to silence - eerily so, almost. What Eswild had guessed to be sunlight filtered through the walls, falling upon her face most undesired as she raised a hand up to her face to cast them aside. Only, when her eyes found the strength to stay open for more than a brief second or two, she noticed it was not the light of the sun but the lights from the night before. She was still in the tree, still encircled in the same comfortable sheets from the night before.

Is this what it is like to awake to sunlight? She thought as she roused herself from bed. Gilan would have me whipped if I let the dawn wake me, save perhaps on Bryhrsday.

She scratched at her nearly-bald head, feeling the strands of hair longer than she would have liked - she had not taken to shaving them in some time, and supposed now was no time to fuss over it. She was not likely to step into a forge for quite some time, and Gilan's wife had always fussed that such a "pretty girl" be left to have her hair shorn and her curves burned away by the forge's fire. If she had been honest with herself, Eswild had always seen the other girls around her village and wondered what it would be like to have soft, flowing hair that brushed aside in the breeze when they walked. Eswild thought of their curls, and felt the prickly stubble atop her own head.

Once roused from bed, Eswild took a moment to explore her room. The lights cast an accurate depiction of daylight throughout the room, flooding it in a pleasant whitish glow that reminded of Eswild of spring days as she inhaled the scent of the tree and basked in the, fake or otherwise, sunlight. Left of her bed sat a plain night stand that jutted out of floor as if it were fused.

Opposite the bed was a small indentation in the wall, which Eswild stumbled to just as she smelt the traces of food from downstairs. Her stomach growled and ached with hunger as she slid open the door before the indentation. Inside was a fresh tunic and trousers, both of which felt as fine as the sheets had. The tunic was a rich sapphire blue, the trousers an unadorned cream color with the slightest tinge of a sandy yellow. Eswild rubbed the fabric between her fingers before changing out of her travel-worn, muddy, and otherwise pitiful attire and into the new clothes.

Is this what being a lady feels like? She reflected as she straightened out the tunic, delighting in how it felt cool and smooth across her skin. Only she knew no lady that wore trousers, or had muscles bigger than a boy's. Not quite a lady, but one they might yet tell stories of.

Eswild wandered, barefoot, down to the main hall. The wooden underfoot felt soft, unlike any wooded surface she had walked along before. There were no splinters, no rough patches of wear, no jutting nails. The moss carpeting in the center of the main chamber felt equally pleasant, squishing between her toes as she was greeted by a breakfast unlike any other meal she had seen in her days. Not even the town's inn had food such as what was presented to Eswild as she seated herself, eagerly digging in. After her first few bites, a bit of grease dripping down her chin, Eswild nodded to the stranger finally.

"Good morning," she said, feeling a bit embarrassed she had chosen the food over acknowledging him first.

 
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"Good morning," the stranger replied, seeming entirely unconcerned, or even unaware, of Eswild's apparent lack of manners. Instead, he waited for her to finish breakfast with a rather casual air, his form still sprawled out across the wooden chair. The stranger didn't speak again until Eswild had finished eating as many of the meaty pastry rolls as she wanted.

Despite the fact that the plate clearly had a finite number of rolls on it, there always seemed to be a few more left. However, rather than them simply popping into existence, their appearance was more like losing count. A moment's distraction or inattention was all it would take for their remaining number to somehow blur back into a larger quantity.

Perhaps it was mere coincidence, but in the same strange manner the rolls appeared, by the time Eswild had eaten her fill, the plate was empty. The stranger seemed to take note of this, as he turned to study her, casually reaching out to tap the table. As though in response, the wooden plate sunk back into the table.

"We can begin now, if you wish," the stranger said again, as though they were momentarily back to last night. "Unless there are other things you first require?"
 


"I don't think so," Eswild said, still perplexed that as she had reached absentmindedly for another roll they had vanished as seemingly rapidly as they had first appeared.

Their taste lingered on her lips - warm and filling, salty and hearty. Her stomach felt full for what felt to be the first time in months. Gilan was a gracious man, and there was never a day that Eswild went without at least one meal, but times were lean and she had often gone to bed hungrier than she would have liked. Every now and then she could afford a meal at the inn, but even that had felt like recouping losses and left her just as hungry the next day. It was a strange feeling, she thought, as she jostled in her chair. She felt lethargic, almost, as the weight of her full belly left her blissfully at ease in the comfortable embrace of her fine clothes.

But the stranger did not bring you this way to eat rolls, sleep, and grow fat, Eswild reminded herself.

"I'm ready to begin," she said, reaching to push the plate aside but finding none.

 
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The stranger studied Eswild quietly for a second, before a small smile flickered across his lips. "Good," he said, before finally sitting up properly. He folded his legs under him and leaned forward over the table, elbows supporting his upper body. It was clear, for all his usually laid-back attitude, he took the matter of Eswild's first lesson quite seriously.

"I hope it shall come as no surprise to you that the study of magic is a deep and complicated effort. Some have even gone so far as to call its effects and applications endless, although I believe that remains to be seen. Either way, what is for certain is that even the most powerful mages among the so-called 'Great Families' have only scraped the surface of what is possible with magic."

As the stranger began his lecture, his tone shifted slightly. If he could have been called amenable before, not even blinking at Eswild's attacks or insults, now it was clear he would tolerate no frivolity.

"Before I begin your instruction, I'm going to have to make sure you are starting with the correct foundation, which means rectifying whatever mistaken assumptions some of the nonsense those mages have spread around the world has given you. For that reason, I need you to tell me anything you know, or think you know, about magic."

As though to waylay whatever objections she might raise to his request, the stranger lifted a hand. "I know you consider yourself no mage, but, whether it's through rumors, gossip, speculation, or even the tales of traveling merchants, everyone's heard something of magic. Those very rumors become a part of your knowledge base, which has been proven from your inability to distinguish between magic and a blacksmith's trick."

His raised palm folded at that point, rolling over to become an outstretched hand, palm up in invitation. "Please. Begin."
 


Eswild was taken aback by the sudden shift in the stranger's demeanor. Whereas before he had been unfazeable - perhaps even wistful, after a fashion - now it was all steely glances and matter-of-fact statements. That second point was perhaps less of a change, Eswild supposed after a brief moment to consider it. The stranger had a manner of speaking matter-of-factly, as if all knowledge might be plucked as casually from his mind as a book from a bookshelf. Still, the stranger that had tended to her needs, been patient while she had thrown rocks through him, and made her breakfast had disappeared.

"I don't know much," Eswild admitted, words slow and purposeful at first. "The farmer's guild in town had a couple of earth mages skilled in tending to the earth come in about every other season or so when they could afford it. I never got to talk to them much."

She paused, recalling the last time she had interacted with one of the mages the farmers had brought into town. He had been tall with a gaunt face and a salt-and-pepper beard that had been more salt than pepper. He wore the robes of some family's colors from some city Eswild had never heard of, and sewn into them had been the sigil of an eagle clutching a pair of thunderbolts. Not that she had learned much about magic from him - he had no time for little boys, he had snapped at her. When she had corrected him and told him she was a girl, he laughed and waved her aside.

"I know they helped a lot with the fields," Eswild added. "They could till it quicker than horses and I once met a traveling mage that performed fancy tricks with his strength and dexterity. But mostly I learned from stories Gilan's wife used to tell me when I was little."

Her favorite had been of Alaman the Spellbinder, who sealed a great dragon atop a high hill only to have it break the seal and rain fire down on the town below. That was how volcanoes had been made, Gilan had told her, though she suspected he had never seen a volcano in his life. Neither had she, to be fair, but she had doubted any dragon's involvement. Still, the story had knights and wizards and beautiful maidens, and the memory of sitting in Gilan's lap as he and his wife recalled the tale brought a smile to her face.

"I hadn't known of magical beasts or anything else," the girl continued, smile fading as she spoke. "And most of the sorts of magic I saw were mundane compared to the way everyone else talks about it. They said it was just something stuffy nobles did for fun."

 
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The stranger listened patiently to Eswild's explanation, before the faintest of sighs slipped from him. In truth, it was little more than a slightly heavy breath, all but unnoticeable. What was more obvious, however, was his shift in posture. His chin was lifted away from his folded hands, his elbows taken off the table, while his fingers crossed over one another, one thumb rubbing absentmindedly against the other.

"Excuse me, it appears I queried too broadly." It would be incorrect to call his words disappointed. Both his tone of voice and expression were far too mild to qualify for such a significant emotion. Yet it was equally true that there was no way his words could be construed as praising or satisfied. "Allow me to try again. What separates a mage from a normal person?"
 


Eswild hesitated - the answer felt obvious. She was seated in the very thing that exemplified the difference between mages and persons. She had eaten food she presumed had been conjured from nothingness, slept in a bed shaped from a tree, and been awoken by light that had emanated without a source. But rather than flail her arms around and say this was what separated those who were mages from those who were not, she considered the question.

What had it been the stranger had said this place was?

Mana well, she recalled.

She had been exhausted and barely sentient, such had been their forced march from the village, but those words echoed in her head. Mana. She had heard that word before, and not from the stranger. What had the old, grouchy mage she had talked to three autumns past said? The soil was as poor as the mana here, or something as close to it, Eswild did not care.

"They use mana?" It was more of a question than a statement, and she bit her lower lip and tried again. "They use mana to do the things they do, they can feel it and use it."

Had that been closer to what he was looking for? Eswild shrunk back in her seat, gauging his reaction: the stranger was difficult to read. It had not been disappointment at her first response, though she imagined it strayed closer to disappointment than it did understanding and patience.

"And my Knack was just part of that," she added. "Or, well, just the way I used it."

 
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"Better," the stranger agreed, seeming far more satisfied with Eswild's answer this time around. As though he'd received something he'd been looking for, or perhaps gained some piece of information, he quickly settled into lecture mode, words spilling quickly but smoothly from between his lips.

"There's an even simpler answer to my question, though. Mages are different from everyone else because they are able to cast spells. From the simple earth moving the mages your village would have hired, to what I've done here, they're all rooted in that same, basic concept of spellcasting. Mine's just a more complicated technique.

"Your answer, on the other hand, is the follow up to my first question. Mages are different because they are able to cast spells. How are they able to cast spells? They are able to cast spells because of mana."

The stranger's fingers lifted into the air, swirling in a circle as though trying to create a small whirlwind. In the wake of his motion, several tiny points of greenish-brown light flickered briefly through the air, swimming in small, darting circles before fading back out of existence.

"One last question," the stranger than continued, lowering his hand once more. "And we'll begin your first exercise. Do you know anything about why or how mages are able to interact with mana? I'm not asking about the technique to cast a specific spell, but the most basic reason behind it.
Like how people are able to walk because they have legs, and birds are able to fly because they have wings, why are mages able to use mana to cast spells?"
 


"I always heard the mages that came through the village say they were born that way," Eswild said, cocking her head to the side as she considered the stranger's question.

She could tell by the way the stranger's face shifted back to that slate of indifference that she was only grasping for half of the answer. Eswild struggled to recall what else she could remember from the mages she had seen - they had all been well-to-do, well-dressed. Haughty came to mind, and she recalled with the ghost of a smile etched upon her face the choice swears Gilan had reserved for the most pompous of the lot.

"I was always told they were born into it, rather," she said, correcting her previous statement. "That it was like a bloodline of sorts - if you came from the right lineage, you had magic. But that... I just don't see how that would make me able to use magic, I'm no one important."

 
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The stranger seemed to consider something for a moment, before ultimately shrugging slightly, seemingly more to himself than to Eswild. "It's not incorrect to call it a bloodline, although it has nothing to do with blood. However, you are completely correct in saying that the ability to cast magic is either something you are are born with, or you are not.

"The reason for that is because mages are born with a particular... part of the mind, which allows thoughts to influence mana. Without the mana core to bridge the gap, it is impossible for thoughts and mana to ever interact. However, by channeling thoughts through the mana core in the right way, it creates a resonance with nearby mana, producing an effect."

"Each..." Just as the stranger was about to begin speaking again, he suddenly paused, lips momentarily tightening. A second later, and his head shook. "No, I doubt any more theory would be useful for you at this point. Come here."

The stranger spun on the chair, sitting sideways so that his left shoulder was now facing the middle of the table. One finger pointed to the floor a couple of feet away from him. "Stand here, with your back facing me. We're going to jump right to the exercise."
 


Part of the mind? Mana core? Questions buzzed within Eswild's mind - namely how the stranger knew it was a part of the mind. She'd heard tell of particularly occult persons defiling corpses to study the human body, but she personally doubted the efficacy of such endeavors. She did not have long to consider the implications of some part of her attached to her mind that had given Eswild her Knack, as the stranger moved ever-forwards.

The prospect of finally putting what little she had learned - if she could have really learned anything at all in their brief discussion - excited her and Eswild stood, stepping to where the stranger indicated. She reminded herself that she might, at some point today, want to find some new word for him other than "stranger" - though stranger he was still to her, and doubtless strange as well, it seemed that at least for the time being they were joined at the hip.

"Ok," Eswild said, back towards him. "And now what?"

 
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The stranger stood up casually, almost lazily, coming to rest about an arm's distance away from Eswild's back. "Extend your right hand, palm up. There's no need to do anything, just pay attention to the tips of your fingers."

Hidden from Eswild's view, the stranger's hand rose, reaching for the back of her head. However, when he was halfway there, the stranger suddenly paused. "I'm going to touch the back of your neck," he clarified politely, before continuing to move without really giving Eswild a chance to respond, let alone object.

A mere moment after his cool fingers came in contact with the back of her neck, conveniently touching bare skin underneath the jagged ends of her short hair, it was possible to feel a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. A gentle light began to gather behind Eswild, causing her shadow to suddenly extend forwards in front of her.

Were she to turn around, it would be possible to see reddish light running down through the stranger's body, flowing down towards his right hand from his head like magma was flowing through his veins. On the back of her neck, his fingers began to grow warm. Gradually, delicately, like water gently permeating through a barrier, the glowing red heat sunk through her skin, harmless and comfortable, before flowing towards the center of her head.

A second later, and a red glow began to flow down from Eswild's own head, racing along her arm before heading unerringly for the tips of her fingers. Unlike the brilliant glow that was coming from the stranger, her light was dull and diffuse, visible only for a moment before it faded away. However, under the prompting of the red glow, Eswild's fingers began to heat up. At first, they were only a mild red, like they'd been backlit by a strong source of light. However, gradually, they began to glow brighter, transitioning from a cherry red towards a more brilliant orange glow. Faint distortions began to fill the air as heat radiated from her hand.

And then the stranger's hand separated from the back of her neck, and the flow of heat to her head vanished as quickly as it had come.
 
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