Auryn follows her, studying the mosaics, the architecture, with interest; there's splendor and history and darkness there and he'd like to have some time to look at them more in depth. It's the feel of the smaller kitchen, though, that really catches him.
His mother wasn't a witch like he is one, but she was devoted to a kind of magic nonetheless, and though his memories of his childhood with his parents seem dreamlike, there are things he remembers. Books everywhere; herbs always hanging in the kitchen and by the doors, mason jars high on a shelf he couldn't reach. There's something of that to this, albeit more castle-like kitchen.
Some tin bright with holiday colors catches his eye, but when he looks back for it it's gone, as though it was never there, and he eyes the place he thought it was with some suspicion and slight amusement, glancing at Nerium and watching her settle in. She's at home here, and her cold demeanor has lessened, just a little, and he finds himself relaxing a little.
He nods at her words, frowning. "That's what I was afraid of." That's exactly the feeling he'd gotten from this place. From every place he's been, but here he'd expected something different. And perhaps once upon a time it would have been something different, if it's true that her great-great aunt had as much effect as she says.
Auryn doesn't have a chance to decline tea or make an effort at it; she's already pouring some from a teapot. It smells wonderful and he says as much, nodding in thanks.
"If anything, you'll find I'm usually too honest," he tells her with a small smile. "My magic is -- mostly self-discovered," he decides. He looks into the tea for a moment. "I was taken from my parents when I was young," he admits. It's slightly more than he'd admit to most strangers this early, but it's important in knowing why he feels as strongly as he does, and he thinks Nerium is on his side, here. "It was called -- I was told -- that they weren't proper caregivers. I wasn't a stupid child. Our community was conservative and afraid and they needed a way to punish transgression." His voice goes hard, and he pulls himself back into control, taking a sip of tea. "Anything formal I know, I know from them. I learned the rest when it came to me, from practicing on my own, trying new things in darkness and hidden away where no one could stop me. I'm just about done with hiding."
He holds open his hand. "As near as I can tell, what I can do is affect structure. Fire's easy. Creating heat, persuading molecules to move faster and carbon to burn." He finds the dust motes in the air, pulls them together, lights them up in a small flicker that bursts from his palm. "But I've gotten good at persuasion." He asks the fire to freeze, and it stops and hardens before he disintegrates it. "And at sensing the forces I'm reaching for. It's something that I'm part of, and I want to learn how to channel that."
He realizes he's rambling -- it's been so long since he had someone who understood these things, who agreed with his standpoint. "You'll regret asking me to talk about it," he jokes, and takes another sip of tea.
no subject
His mother wasn't a witch like he is one, but she was devoted to a kind of magic nonetheless, and though his memories of his childhood with his parents seem dreamlike, there are things he remembers. Books everywhere; herbs always hanging in the kitchen and by the doors, mason jars high on a shelf he couldn't reach. There's something of that to this, albeit more castle-like kitchen.
Some tin bright with holiday colors catches his eye, but when he looks back for it it's gone, as though it was never there, and he eyes the place he thought it was with some suspicion and slight amusement, glancing at Nerium and watching her settle in. She's at home here, and her cold demeanor has lessened, just a little, and he finds himself relaxing a little.
He nods at her words, frowning. "That's what I was afraid of." That's exactly the feeling he'd gotten from this place. From every place he's been, but here he'd expected something different. And perhaps once upon a time it would have been something different, if it's true that her great-great aunt had as much effect as she says.
Auryn doesn't have a chance to decline tea or make an effort at it; she's already pouring some from a teapot. It smells wonderful and he says as much, nodding in thanks.
"If anything, you'll find I'm usually too honest," he tells her with a small smile. "My magic is -- mostly self-discovered," he decides. He looks into the tea for a moment. "I was taken from my parents when I was young," he admits. It's slightly more than he'd admit to most strangers this early, but it's important in knowing why he feels as strongly as he does, and he thinks Nerium is on his side, here. "It was called -- I was told -- that they weren't proper caregivers. I wasn't a stupid child. Our community was conservative and afraid and they needed a way to punish transgression." His voice goes hard, and he pulls himself back into control, taking a sip of tea. "Anything formal I know, I know from them. I learned the rest when it came to me, from practicing on my own, trying new things in darkness and hidden away where no one could stop me. I'm just about done with hiding."
He holds open his hand. "As near as I can tell, what I can do is affect structure. Fire's easy. Creating heat, persuading molecules to move faster and carbon to burn." He finds the dust motes in the air, pulls them together, lights them up in a small flicker that bursts from his palm. "But I've gotten good at persuasion." He asks the fire to freeze, and it stops and hardens before he disintegrates it. "And at sensing the forces I'm reaching for. It's something that I'm part of, and I want to learn how to channel that."
He realizes he's rambling -- it's been so long since he had someone who understood these things, who agreed with his standpoint. "You'll regret asking me to talk about it," he jokes, and takes another sip of tea.