Let's Talk About Salons

The Alexandrian Library sees its fair share of traffic. The books here offer studious types a wealth of knowledge, for those that know how to find the reputable sources, look past the exaggerations and assumptions, and string the pieces of half-truths together. Some of the patrons even become familiar faces.

Malik is one of those people. While the library may not exactly have public spellbooks, they do have quite the collection of books on magical theory, at least. Malik has several of these open in front of him, comparing the notes within and making a few of his own on a stack of paper. Sigils and runes line up at appropriate geometric angles, but notes around the margins suggest a certain level of incredulity toward the materials contained within. It doesn't take a trained eye to see words like 'overly complicated' and 'missing the point' scribbled along some of the more involved passages.

Seldan's become another one of those familiar faces, of late. The doors swing wide to admit him, hair still rather damp from earlier ablutions and now slicked back from his face. It promises not to stay that way, though, a string already escaping to frame his face. He inclines his head to the librarian on duty and heads back into the stacks, seeming to know -exactly- where he is going and what he wants.

He emerges perhaps ten minutes later with a small stack of books referencing the history of the kingdoms of Myrddion, and takes these over to a table, eyes scanning for a place to settle.

It's quiet in the library. Usually at least. Peaceful. Safe. Even if you do bump into somebody, it's usually some bookish nerd who's terrified at the idea of making eye contact, let alone actually engaging in conversation. So in short, it's a great place to take a nap. -IF- you can find somewhere secluded enough to remain undisturbed. Darn nerds seek out even the most unused and forgotten books like you wouldn't believe. But, up on -top- of the shelves... judging by the dust, nobody looks up there. Or didn't. Stretching like a cat, the little Lutch Selia peers dwon from her perch, seeing what sort of things have been happening while she was dreaming. Magical notes are often worth a look, and so soon enough the dancer is creeping down the shelf ladder to get a closer gander at Malik's scribbles.

Malik seems fairly deep in concentration. That is, until Seldan moves over to the stacks. Malik looks up, noticing the freshly washed man with an easy smile, sliding some of his books over to the side to make room for the newcomer. "Light's pretty decent over here," he tells Seldan. "For at least another hour or so." He makes sure to keep his voice low enough to avoid the attention of the librarians. Glancing at the titles, he asks, curiously, "Planning a vacation? Or maybe a war?"

As the dancer moves closer, though, she might notice that Malik's notes have been slightly altered in mild ways, if she has any arcane experience. Sigils simplified or added to, geometric shapes altered at precise angles. Deviations from the orthodoxy.

Seldan returns the easy smile with one of his own, settling where the light is decent, with only half a glance at the eavesdropper on the magical notes. "Were I to choose where to go, it would not be my homeland." The smile fades. "I would learn more of my ancestors, and of the history of the Kingdom of the Lion." That fits with the thick Myrrish accent with which he speaks. He sets down the stack and pulls one off the top, leaning back in his chair.

Selia is fairly unorthodox herself, and not exactly classically trained... depending on your classics... but she is curious, hopping up onto a chair to peer over the tabletop at the notes. "Wot ya workin on? Da bits in familiar, but dan't reckon I seen dat configuartion 'fore." Her accent is slathered opon the words, mostly Low Charn, with a thick layer of Undercommon, a bit of Chant, and a slight bit of somethign really exotic. Fingertips flutter as she talks, not quite full Handspeech, but an added layer of emphasis.

Malik can't help but chuckle a little bit at Seldan's explanation. "That's -- a tall order," he tells the stranger. "I mean, anything with a name like 'Kingdom of the Lion'? Probably as much mythology as history. Everyone's got a take on it, and if they're invested in telling the story, they're either invested in telling it well, where the land is full of shining heroes, or the exact opposite. And it looks like -plenty- of people have plenty to say," he notes, nodding to the stacks. "Sounds like you're in for quite the ride."

As Selia steps up next to him, though, he blinks a bit, parsing the accent. His own is noticable -- Tsuran, but his grammar is decent. Probably educated, though clearly foreign. "Zenzibar's Configuration," he tells her, sliding the notes over. "Pretty much a staple of most transmutations. Elegant, stable. And just as likely to get you killed while you try to tie all the pieces together as it is to be of any help whatsoever. It's -too- safe. It's like making sure the baby is secure by wrapping it in chains and using ten padlocks." Which is probably an exaggeration, but he seems convinced enough.

"To be sure," Seldan agrees, looking up from where he'd settled the book in his lap and was about to open it. "I have been researching for some weeks. Not all of it is helpful, but I have found a few things." Then Malik starts talking about Zenzibar's Configuration. "Transmutation is a school I have not yet explored. This came first."

Selia peers for a few moments, and murrs softly. "Safe is good. Ya dan't wanna 'vae sumthin go wrong when changing inta sumthin else. Tiny variation makes fer major changes. Offset cellwall placement by a few microns, ya go from calling up a beastie from da beyond to a nasty pile of squish."

Malik nods to Selia, offering an amused grin. "True," he agrees. "But you can't be -too- safe either. Won't much matter if you can't make the hand configuration here," he points out, tapping the pen on the paper. "Cell wall placement doesn't much matter if they've lit you on fire by the time the transformation is done. Then you're a -charred- pile of squish. The most useful magics don't happen when it's -safe-. They happen under fire. Sometimes literally."

Glancing back to Seldan, he explains. "Transmutations are something of a specialty of mine. We all have our hobbies, I guess." Though this particular wizard carries a nice bow with him, a decent sword at his side, and is dressed like someone who's seen his fair share of fighting. Comfortable, functional clothes that are -just- shy of armor, with supple leathers and too many pouches. "So why the interest in a homeland that you have no intention of returning to?" he asks, possibly a bit tactlessly.

Seldan's smile takes on a rueful cast. "Oh, I will return there, make no mistake. My parents would have me return for the winter holidays, though I have not yet entirely agreed. Say rather that I choose to take my ease in other places." He closes the book and lays it in his lap. "No, I would learn of my ancestry and whence comes the magic I wield. Though I have learned some of the theory, my magic ... does not work in that way."

Selia shakes her head, having a firmly different opinion on the matter. "Best magics is safe magics. Everything better safe. Ain't saying quick 'n dirty don't 'ave it's place. And dat place is gettin ya outta any situation where ya needs ta be quick 'n dirty." Blinking, she peers at Seldan a few moments. "Sorcerer sort?"

"Safe is good," Malik agrees. "When you've got the time to be safe. But it's also limiting. And sometimes? Just boring," he adds. "Quick and dirty gets the job done. And it can be a hell of a lot more fun." Malik seems to have his own opinions about the matter, but it seems he's enjoying the conversation as well. Turning back to Seldan, he asks, "Thinking more like a beach, somewhere? Sun, sand. Those little gnomish drinks in the bright colors, with the umbrellas?" He quirks an eyebrow. "Because we could always arrange that." Though at the revelation of a different sort of power, Malik's eyes brighten a bit. "You're one of the bloodline users, then?"

Seldan nods to both of them in the affirmative. "I cannot think that the Dreamer would have called me were my blood evil, and yet ... if it is, I would at least know the truth." He sighs, but the back and forth about "safe" magic distracts him. "Both have their place. Would you risk an error in a crowd of innocent people?" he asks Malik. "It matters to Her less how it is cast, than that it be used wisely and well."

The mention of a beach gets a snort. "Have you -seen- what happens to people who look like me on a beach? The last time I sought a beach for a day, I ended up in the Houses of Healing with sun sickness."

Selia snorts softly, but nods and smiles. "Dem fancy drinks is mostly illusion, ya na. Can't make dem colors wit anythin real." She considers a moment. "Still, mighty tastey."

"I've heard that there are illusions that can kill," Malik says with a chuckle. "If it's an illusion that makes me think a brightly colored drink is ice cold and tasty? I'm there for it. It might just be in my head, but it's the experience that matters," he agrees, pointing a finger at the 'mighty tasty' bit like they've finally found a point they can agree on.

Leaning back in his chair, he gives Seldan a curious glance. "That just means that you need to spend more time at beaches," he laughs. "We can find one of those 'clothing optional' ones. And you can opt for all the clothes," he teases. "But alright. Beaches are dangerous. Where would you prefer to be, then, if you could escape wintering in the Kingdom of the Lion with your parents?"

Seldan flushes at the mention of "clothing optional" beaches, his gaze dropping down to the book in his lap. "I do not know where I would go," he admits. "Already in my few moons here have I done more and visited more places than I could have imagined. Perhaps as I see more places, I will know where I wish to stay."

Selia blinks seriously at Malik. "ALL illusions can kill. Ya just gotta use 'em right." She considers a moment. "Or wrong, 'pendin on yer perspective." She turns focus to Seldan, peering a moment. "If beaches ain't yer thing, are a few 'clothing optional' salons around. Candels and hooka's and drink on silver trays, iffen dat's more yer speed."

Malik laces his fingers behind his head, considering the responses. "So what you're saying is -- all options are still on the table." He gets a pensive look at that one, seeming to weigh the possible choices. "Alright, then." But the blush only makes the grin wider, especially when Selia follows it up with another round. "Sounds like my wallet would hate me for going to any of those," he counters. "Where'd you say they were again, though?" Extending a hand, he introduces himself, finally. "Malik Gitanos."

Seldan flushes even deeper at the mention of something like that, his ears positively burning. "What? No, I would never! Why --" Words fail him, and he is left floundering for a good minute or more before he finds his wits enough to have them point him to his manners. "Um, Seldan Padaryn, of the Silver Guard." He's still scarlet when he does finally respond.

Seldan flushes even deeper at the mention of something like that, his ears positively burning. "What? No, I would never! Why --" Words fail him, and he is left floundering for a good minute or more before he finds his wits enough to have them point him to his manners. "Um, Seldan Padaryn, of the Silver Guard." He's still scarlet when he does finally respond, and eventually even remembers to take the hand.

Selia laughs and nods, touching fingertips to fingertips rather than a 'proper' handshake. "Selia Shadowkin, Dancer." She winks to Malik, and shrugs. "Dey's around. Most is pretty invite only, but I na Mamma Rosie runs one now and again."

"You should never say never," Malik offers, though not exactly traditional 'words of wisdom'. "Who knows? Maybe you'll find some time when it's truly the best option." Though that deep scarlet isn't lost on him. The smile stays fixed right where it is. "I think I like you both already." Despite ideological differences, naturally. "So how about you, then?" he asks to Selia. "What's your particular passion? Seems that we've all got one, here."

Flustered, Seldan contemplates the book in his lap for a few minutes, then stands up, still very much discomfited. "If you will excuse me. A pleasure meeting you." With that, he disappears into the stacks, book in hand, seemingly in search of something else.

Selia grins after the retreating Seldan, then falls thoughtful a few moments before shruging to Malik. "Dancing. Shadows. Safety." She considers a a few moments more. "Slavery, slavers, an' endin both."

Malik watches as the paladin wanders off into the stacks, glancing over to Selia. "Think that we scared him," he chuckles. "That one's gonna be fun." Though he gets a bit more serious as he listens to her explanation, as concise as it is. "Can't say that I disagree with your mission statement, there," he offers. "One of the nicer things about magic. Hard to keep a wizard someplace he doesn't want to be."

Selia mmms. "Poison 'is family, withhold da treatment iffen don't do wot is told." ...that was an instant solution... this issue might have come up before. From the tone, Selia wasn't the one holding the antidote.

Malik considers that one, not seeming terribly put off by the ideology. "Effective," he says. "But a gamble. If you're using it on a slaver's family, you're assuming that his family means enough to him to want to save in the first place. Most of them don't exactly put a high premium on the value of life," he contends. "Then you just end up a murderer. Or you offer the antidote anyway, and you haven't really gained anything except exposing your hand. Risky. But the payoff is high, if you play your cards right."

Selia eyes Malik. "Don't poison families. Iffen yer gonna poison sumon, poison da target an be done wit it. Better ta slit der throat wit a poison knife."

Malik nods. "I'm more a fan of arrows, personally. Cheap, easy to produce, and don't require me to get close enough to slit their throat with a poison knife. Doesn't get nearly as much blood on your clothes, either. Poison is largely optional, though probably not a bad idea as a fallback. But still just as direct."

Selia nods. "Git da oil treated leather clothes. Blood wipes right off, don't soak in even iffen ya leave it for a time." Again, this sounds like experience speaking. "Arrows is good, but tough ta 'it -just- da right spot iffen ya ain't right in der to do it right."

"Don't those make it a little harder to move, though?" he asks. "Seems like it'd bunch a bit at the shoulders. Makes it pretty hard to get the movements just right. Though I guess if you train with it enough it wouldn't matter -that- much. Still," he muses, "hate to be in a situation where you screw up a spell because your shoulder pad got bunched up."

Selia nods, and shrugs. "Joints is tricky, but is ways ta make good flex. And 'stab' is a pretty easy spell."

"Point taken," Malik says, probably completely intending that pun there. "But then I guess that's why we have professionals like you out in the world, huh? So that some of us can shoot, and others can stab, and none of us have to be experts in all things." He closes his book, rubbing at his eyes. "Think that's enough theory for one day." Though he does notice that she isn't carrying any books. And is covered in dust. Which causes him to raise an eyebrow, though he blessedly doesn't question it out loud.

Selia is less covered than 'slightly'. Might be a homeless vagrant, but is still a -lady-... mostly. But either way she nods, and stretches a little. "Best be gittin meself. Ain't late, but will be iffen don't git movin. Was good talkin wit ya."

"Nice meeting you too," he tells her, gathering up his notes as he glances off into the stacks once more, seemingly satisfied that the paladin won't be returning soon. "I'm sure we'll see each other around."