find the eyes

Isanti

A snowstorm blew inside a wolf's eyes
And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides

It's a nice little out-of-the-way café he found some time back. Clean, sitting in a strip of noon sunlight (when the dark Drenak clouds are not blocking it, of course) and high up enough to avoid most of the floods. Reasonably priced, too. But most importantly, it is cheetah-friendly. Considering Morrocaw spends most of her time just laying on the floor the staff are fine with him sitting out of the way in a corner.

Laying on the floor .. and chewing on her legs.

It started quite recently - whatever is going around came around to them, too. Isanti's eyes are a little puffy, his hands dry and raw and red. Behind the scarf wrapped around his face his lips are chapped and cracked, and he's got an ugly, itchy splotch forming on his chin.

Morrocaw, though... Her face seems fine, but her skin everywhere is dry and flaking, and nothing he has tried has been able to soothe her. Initially he worried it was all the baths trying to get the dust and silt out of her after the storm, but even with days passing without baths and lotion rubbed into her skin it just keeps getting worse. She's taken to chewing on the fur on her legs, scraping her already sore and sensitive skin. He tried slathering on nasty stuff, didn't stop her. Tried to wrap her legs, didn't stop her, just distracted her until she unwrapped herself.

She's laying under the table now, gnawing on a front limb, making the bald spot larger and larger. Isanti feels like shit about it, but what else can he do, but wait and see if it goes away once Isanti's own affliction has peaked? It should be soon, anyway, though it still keeps getting slowly worse for both of them. Initially he felt guilty about going out like this, until he saw everyone else looking the same, telltale rashes on their hands and faces.

Sighing into his scarf he reaches out to wrap a hand around his precious mug of hot chocolate, bending again over his "homework". The savant does give out homework, but not to Isanti anymore - but he still does some, voluntarily. At the moment he's comparing notes he scribbled down during a workshop he attended as an aide, diving deeper into the concepts and history behind them, fleshing out his notes with the help of a few books he's got open and spread out on the table.

But then the time got by and the wolf died
And someday that wolf would be I

CIAN

He had somehow managed to find a room before Drenak came around. It wasn't a dry room, but it was still drying than if he had been stuck to the streets. While he had been warned about the season. Been told stories about how it could be, actually experiencing it for himself is different. Waking up after the first storm had not been pleasant and he had felt even more like an outsider when most people around him had just gone about it as if it was just another regular day in life.

Then came whatever it was. First he thought it had been something he caught from the damp room he rents, but he quickly realized he's not alone with it. The red marks along his chin and on his hand are of some concern, but the ever pressing headache bothered him more. Made it difficult to do anything at all, even if he tried.

Today he just feels extra worn out. After having spent some time helping out with the water around where he is currently residing, he got the chance to slip away to check out the rest of the Drench. Not that he wants to check out too much because of all the water. It all made him feel icky and he just didn't want to touch anything. He only finds the little café because he wanders by it on accident and the clean look of it makes it stand out from everything else at the moment, and he chooses to head in just to get away from the wet streets.

He buys himself a mug of strong tea in hopes it will clear up his head of whatever it is stuffed with and is just about to pick a table when he spots the cheetah. It doesn't take him many seconds to confidently guess it is the same he met up top and looking up at Isanti, he recognized him as well. So he decides to drift over towards their table.

"Hey. You're the one I talked to at the masquerade, right? About magic and books?" He asks as he comes up closer, keeping the table between himself and Morrocaw. The cheetah had seemed friendly before, but he still doesn't want to just walk up too close to it. The way she chews on her leg makes him frown a bit, however.

Isanti

A snowstorm blew inside a wolf's eyes
And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides

What he's reading about is technically below his level - it is, really, quite basic stuff. The workshop was one of those "Aristocrats are bored and have too much money" workshops, covering the basics of magic theory, but..

Okay, it's like this. Isanti's tutors back in Desclef? There had been absolutely nothing wrong with them. They were a mixed bunch, but most had a really solid grasp on what they were doing, and a couple had been very talented. They're just .. not the savant. The studies Isanti initially started with him were at a higher level, but getting his basics too feels like a blessing. It patches up some of the holes in his foundation; he explains some things in a slightly different way, and, most of all, since it wasn't a very serious magic workshop, he spent a lot of time talking about history, artefacts, and for the shock factor- all the creative ways mages, especially unbound ones, have accidentally discovered to hurt themselves.

Really, you do not want a bunch of bored and dumb nobles running around blowing themselves up, so of course it had been very focused on unbound bad, bound good.

He's currently poring over a book about different types of foci, going down some rabbit hole, when movement makes him look up. Someone, holding a steaming cup, is wandering over in his direction- slow, but deliberate. Isanti racks his perpetually sleep-deprived brain, and as the man reaches his table it clicks. That tousled hair, the warm, friendly eyes... "Ah, yes!" It comes out maybe too eager, because he's still not quite returned to the present, and sanity. "Please," he goes on, motioning towards the empty seat across, leaning forward to clear a few books off to one side to make room.

Morrocaw, meanwhile, does not care. She just lays where she is, licking and gnawing on her fur.

But then the time got by and the wolf died
And someday that wolf would be I

CIAN

Isanti is the one Cian had guessed and it saves him from making it all awkward with walking up with the wrong person. He looks the younger man over, spotting some familiar signs of what he is having himself. After throwing another glance at Morrocaw, frowning at her behaviour, he decides it is safe to sit without getting a cheetah on him.

"The dampness got you too?" He asks as he sits down and continues to hug the almost too hot mug between his hands. Cian has just decided to assume that whatever was floating around was a mixture of a reaction from the damp air, damp bedding, damp and wet everything and a common cold.

His eyes drift over the books briefly at first in a very uninterested manner, but then passing a second time he seems to actually be paying more attention on what they actually are about and when he finally notices, there is more of a spark in his eyes. "Oh, you found books. Lots of them." His eyes continue to jump from one book to the other, reading a headline here and there.

When it came to study through books, Cian had always been a difficult student. Too impatient, he had in is younger years often tried out what the text was talking about before even finishing reading a whole paragraph. Often ending up missing some important details or other useful information. And when it had come to practical things, he had often lost his patience there as well when he couldn't make anything work on the second or third try. It was a long time ago now he had actually tried to do some proper training or study. Even before leaving home, he had been too busy with all the other things to have time to get back into it.

Isanti

A snowstorm blew inside a wolf's eyes
And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides

Morrocaw doesn't care - she might grumble a little if anyone were to scoot her around with their feet, but, generally, she's not inclined to aggression. Not even now, when she's moodier than usual due to being in discomfort.

"I.. guess?" Isanti says with a somewhat surprised blink, pulling his wandering thoughts together to take a better look at Cian's face and hands. His rooms are not particularly damp, there are certainly those who are worse off, but he did bathe Morrocaw a fair bit to get the sand and silt out of her fur.. so if it was some reaction with dampness..? He leans back in his chair, twirling his pen idly in one of those long-fingered, reddened hands. "But.. Hmm... It's just, it's everywhere on the Plates too, and the houses there are very well-regulated, they're not moist in the same way..." He taps the back of the pen against the cover of a notebook, then sighs. Whatever. It does seem worse in the Drench, so maybe the dampness is just exacerbating whatever symptoms they get.

Books, though. Books are better. Safer. Less contagious. Isanti closes the one he had been perusing, turning it over so that Cian can see the title. It's something along the lines of 'the complete beginner's guide and history of magical foci', but in fancyese. "Yeah. The savant I came here to study for - well, I sort of.. do odd jobs for him now, too, and I can loan unrestricted books from him, though I have to take care in this weather to not get them too damp. And he's given me some old copies and stuff too. These are all really basic, but I think they're very interesting." Of course - it's magical history! Isanti's nerdness shines again, because who else would be excited about reading about how different whip types are preferred by different mages for different properties? "I was helping out at a workshop he hosted two days ago, so I've spent some time since delving into some of the things he mentioned."

But then the time got by and the wolf died
And someday that wolf would be I

CIAN

A frown grows on Cian's face when Isanti tells him that whatever ailment it is floating around is up on the Plates as well. It also makes him feel more concerned about it, because it might mean that his guess could be wrong and then he is back to not knowing at all what it could be. Could be something much worse than just some skin irritation and cold.

His mind snaps away from those thoughts before he can make another comment about it when Isanti turns the book around for him to read the title. Beginner's guide sounded right around his level, sadly. He might have been more advanced in the way of magic at this point if he had been able to put more focus and time into it, but so it goes.

"Seems like a rather useful thing to be able to just borrow books like that. Kind of him too to let you." He holds his mug with one hand and reaches out with the other to open the book about foci, carefully turning some pages and briefly scanning the pages with his eyes.

"Almost makes me wish I could go back to study again, even if just sitting and reading books from cover to cover never was my strongest thing. Doing workshops sounds kinda interesting, though. What sort of things did you do?" He throws Isanti a curious glance while leaning away from the book as he takes a sip of his tea, just to make sure there was no risk of him spilling anything on the precious pages.

Isanti

A snowstorm blew inside a wolf's eyes
And the frozen tears covered all the mountainsides

The savant has no obligations towards Isanti - and yet, does more for him than his actual blood family does. They don't ever talk about it. They don't talk about any of the details. "Yeah..." he says, trying to keep some of the heaviness out of his voice but not quite managing. "I just came here to study for a short while, I thought it was for me but I think it was just posturing from my family's side. A convenient way to try to show their status and 'wealth'. Got stuck here with the lockdown, and suddenly he's looking out more for me than my own family does." He forces himself to stop, to not say more, but the bitterness and hurt in his voice has already betrayed him.

It doesn't feel great when your parents care more about how 'this (= Isanti moving into the Drench) might affect their status and reputation' than how you'll put food on the table and keep a roof over your head.

Dumb, really. He wonders if they'll ever come around. He used to fake sounding bright and cheerful on the phone with them, but now he doesn't pussyfoot around anymore. Why won't he call more often? He's busy, he's dog tired. Why can't he just come home? Because it's a fucking lockdown and he doesn't want to get shot!!

"Reading isn't for everyone," he says, and somehow makes it sound kind. "I find it's good for, well... deep-diving into something? Theoretical knowledge. History. Funny anecdotes and cautionary tales. But doesn't teach me how to do anything. I'd never dare to try a spell just from a book, unless I really know what I'm doing." He smiles gently, leans back in his chair. He wants to tip it up on the back legs but having had a large cat under his tables for over a decade has taught him the dangers of doing that - not only might the cat decide to come onto your lap and you both tumble backwards, but the cat might stretch and then you put the chair down on it and it becomes VERY unhappy.

"It was one of those 'develop your skills during lockdown!' workshops for aristocrats." He doesn't even notice his own slight eye roll when mentioning the noble caste. Truly, you're a child of the deep now. "So a lot of extravagant displays from the savant, some pumped up stories of unbound mages blowing themselves up, and funny stories about bizarre foci. Top it off with a practical in trying to channel null energies to topple some objects on a table, proceed to watch someone accidentally upend the entire table." He chuckles slightly, if a bit bleakly, tired and worn as he is.

But then the time got by and the wolf died
And someday that wolf would be I

CIAN

He can't help but feel a bit sad for Isanti when hearing about his situation with his family, and Cian bites his tongue to not mention how his own family is the opposite. That they care a lot about him. It would feel like just rubbing it in Isanti's face if he said anything about it, so he settles with just noddng along slowly with what he is being told while giving Isanti a sympathetic look.

Quietly pushing back the mental voice scolding him for his life decisions and how they are just trampling on that said care.

The conversation moves on to the books, probably for the best, and Cian turns a few more pages while listening. Leaning back every now and then to take small sips of his tea. "My mind often just drifted off to a hundred other things or just got too impatience to make it through the whole text." He mumbles more or less in passing, refraining from mentioning that he has indeed tried to do things only from reading (parts) about them in the past. Learning by trial and great error that it isn't the best idea.

Hearing about the workshop has him laughing quietly, however, and he shakes his head with a sigh. "Saints, sounds like something I'd do. Something I have done." He continues to look amused over the sudden memory. "Was once when I was younger. My teacher had put two candles in front of me on a table and wanted me to try and make the flame jump from the lit one to the other one."

"Of course, I could not figure it out and was sitting there, staring at the stupid candles and slowly getting more and more frustrated with myself and the whole thing. Eventually I just wanted to grab the table and throw it aside and I must have combined that wish with my intense focus staring at those candles, because the moment I did get this anger impulse to actually grab the table, it flipped over violently."

Another laugh drifts from his throat and he shakes his head again with a smile. "And since I was leaned in over it to stare at the candles, the edge of it knocked me square in the jaw. My teacher called it a "good lesson"."