TIMESTAMP: Solace 5th, 4622 / 20:07
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► Show Spoiler
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"And why is that?" A simple question, though as Degare asks this, he makes an effort to maintain eye contact with his companion, wanting to make the most out of his fledgling Corvo skills. However…holding said eye contact with the other mage is somewhat difficult for him to do confidently. The bright, golden eyes Cirroc possesses have an uncanny resemblance to a ghost from his past. Despite almost all other features being rather different, any reminder of this aspect of his past causes fairly notable discomfort. Degare's familiarity with controlling his emotions and expressions were useful for hiding this, though. Cirroc crosses his arms somewhat defensively as he replies, "From what I have heard about you I simply think that there are others better suited for you to socialize with. In other words, I do not think we will get along." The other elf tries to deliver these words as coldly as he did before. Degare simply laughs, appearing almost chuffed that the man would dismiss him so quickly, "But we've never even had a proper conversation! …and you're so willing to simply dismiss me?" The question was asked with him feigning offense, though he is clearly amused at the other's poor reception of him. It's easy for him to accept rejection when he knows that in the end, the other man won't have a choice should his mind fail to change.
Cirroc sighs, "Fine. Since this is your house and you clearly do not intend to go away, I will indulge this conversation if only to prove my point." His words were delivered sharply, though it did appear he was trying to forcefully quell desire rising within him. How funny, given how quick many were to abandon their supposed morals and indulge themselves. 'If this man is truly as pious as he looks, then…well, that'll be tragic for him,' Degare muses to himself. Still evidently finding the other's responses to be funny, "Or perhaps I will sow the seeds of friendship between us? What is it, exactly, that you find so off putting about me?" These questions are asked with a friendly tone.
The other man huffs, "Well for one, ever since that human pet of yours died, you have not really managed to accomplish much of anything other than a macabre display of wanton violence that others find entertaining for some bizarre reason." Degare's eyes narrow, but he manages to quickly stifle the anger that briefly flared within him at the comment regarding Averre. "Oh? I've kept my house running and successful, and though you may not like my, ah…performances, to deny their success and the magical prowess required to pull them off is just…dishonest, really." His speech is as cheerful as it was before as he speaks, neglecting to comment at all on the death of his partner. "Maintaining success is akin to stagnation and your shows are an insult to art," Cirroc replies matter-of-factly. Degare rolls his eyes, "Is that truly what you think? You wound me," his words are dripping in sarcasm alongside equally sarcastic and theatrical gesticulation. "Regardless of your personal taste, many others flock here specifically for my work. I'm rather coveted– are you really so arrogant that you think your opinion overrides that of so many of your peers?" He floats the question to the other man with the purpose of seeing how boldly he'd flaunt his ego. Cirroc scoffs, "Yes."That is all he says. Question answered. In response Degare snorts, finding the audacity of that answer to be utterly hilarious. "Is that so?" A question asked as he laughs. "You're a funny one, I think." The other mage replies, "That wasn't a joke." His serious demeanor on top of his profound arrogance would probably be obnoxious to some, but Degare found it endlessly entertaining.
"Hmm…given that art is a matter of taste, you at least can't deny the skill it takes me to pull off such tricks, no?" Again, this question is asked to test the depths of his arrogance. "What use is skill if it is applied in such a garish and useless manner?" Cirroc once again provided a clear answer. His words were pointed like knives. Degare sighs and shakes his head, though it's clear he's not taken offense. Rather, he is reflecting on the sheer level of difficulty it will likely be to convince this man to even like him, much less marry him. "In a way, that answer does admit what I do takes skill…just that you don't approve. That acknowledgement is all I wanted," the elf finally responds, laughing lightly. He grants the other man a fairly sweet smile as a way of thanks for such an admittance, though this is more or less meant to annoy him. "I…" Cirroc begins, looking irritated, "...I meant no compliments to you." His words are almost venomous– clearly displeased Degare had interpreted his statement as a positive.
The Ferrier crosses his arms as if to think for a moment, then raises one hand to his chin, leaving the elbow of that arm in the other hand. "It's clear you're no fan of mine. Why don't we talk about something you actually like, then…? How about…" he trails off, intentionally adding this pause for dramatic effect. "Oh, I know. You! You must like talking about yourself, yes?" Degare gazes at the other man with bright, ruby-flecked amber eyes. There is clear interest and enthusiasm on his face in spite of how rude Cirroc has been. "Tell me…other than preening, how do you spend your time?" The other elf sighs, but really, he does so love talking about himself…such an offer would prove hard for him to resist. He can't even deny the comment about 'preening' given how obvious his vanity is. "If you must know, I have been dedicating my time mostly to necromancy. It is objectively my most useful skill, much as I may covet my other magics," the other mage pauses, though it's clear he isn't yet done speaking. "I work primarily for people of import. I have even done work for my aunt, Montese Lorraine." This statement was a rather unsubtle brag. "Ah, a Lorraine!" Degare exclaims this with convincing, yet feigned, surprise. "...and you've enough skill to have caught her eye? How remarkable you must be," he says this wearing an almost doe-eyed look of admiration. He is trying to be obnoxious at this point. Cirroc shifts, again in discomfort at the attention he's being lavished in by somebody he so clearly does not care for.
Degare continues, "...but you mentioned other magics? Do share. I can see a bit of interest in Malformity, at least. The avian elements are a nice touch, I think." The Ferrier himself is quite fond of all magic. Though there are some types he might be biased towards, he does have a fondness for it in any form. "...Yes. Malformity is my most recently acquired mark, but I am quite a fan of it, personally. The others I have are Squall and Resonance." Degare beams a rather impish grin to the other man as he finishes speaking, obviously rather fascinated with his answers. The three marks the necromancer possesses are all marks which he does not. To him, this only opens a world of possibilities for the two to empower one another with in the future.
As much as the Ferrier was beginning to find himself rather interested in his new companion, a valran of his House taps approaches, standing politely nearby but making sure to be within the man's gaze. Degare smiles politely at Cirroc, "Ah, hold on. It seems somebody needs my attention," as he speaks, he directs his gaze to the valran. "Yes…? Do tell me what you need," he requests with a smooth cadence. "Sorry, Master Socorro– it's just that your presence is requested by another of your family. I wasn't told exactly why…just that it's important." The man speaks quickly, trying to be concise. Degare looks back at Cirroc wearing an apologetic expression, "Ah, such a shame to cut our conversation short…but duty calls, I suppose. I can't wait to meet again," words stated with a mischievous wink and a bright smile as the man of shifting shadows now stands. Cirroc appears to be a combination of relieved, confused, and annoyed. Clearly he doesn't understand why the Ferrier thinks they're inherently fated to meet again. How unfortunate for him.
As Degare and the valran depart, his relief is only more obvious. It was as if the man had been holding his breath the entire time with how deep an exhale he released. Much as he genuinely did not like the head of House Socorro, there was something undeniably alluring about him, though he couldn't place it. Was it his unique, rather ghostly type of ethereal beauty? Was it the intoxicating scent of the man that seemed to awaken long dormant desires within Cirroc? Or was it something else entirely? The necromancer couldn't make sense of the attraction he felt and he absolutely loathed it.
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"And why is that?" A simple question, though as Degare asks this, he makes an effort to maintain eye contact with his companion, wanting to make the most out of his fledgling Corvo skills. However…holding said eye contact with the other mage is somewhat difficult for him to do confidently. The bright, golden eyes Cirroc possesses have an uncanny resemblance to a ghost from his past. Despite almost all other features being rather different, any reminder of this aspect of his past causes fairly notable discomfort. Degare's familiarity with controlling his emotions and expressions were useful for hiding this, though. Cirroc crosses his arms somewhat defensively as he replies, "From what I have heard about you I simply think that there are others better suited for you to socialize with. In other words, I do not think we will get along." The other elf tries to deliver these words as coldly as he did before. Degare simply laughs, appearing almost chuffed that the man would dismiss him so quickly, "But we've never even had a proper conversation! …and you're so willing to simply dismiss me?" The question was asked with him feigning offense, though he is clearly amused at the other's poor reception of him. It's easy for him to accept rejection when he knows that in the end, the other man won't have a choice should his mind fail to change.
Cirroc sighs, "Fine. Since this is your house and you clearly do not intend to go away, I will indulge this conversation if only to prove my point." His words were delivered sharply, though it did appear he was trying to forcefully quell desire rising within him. How funny, given how quick many were to abandon their supposed morals and indulge themselves. 'If this man is truly as pious as he looks, then…well, that'll be tragic for him,' Degare muses to himself. Still evidently finding the other's responses to be funny, "Or perhaps I will sow the seeds of friendship between us? What is it, exactly, that you find so off putting about me?" These questions are asked with a friendly tone.
The other man huffs, "Well for one, ever since that human pet of yours died, you have not really managed to accomplish much of anything other than a macabre display of wanton violence that others find entertaining for some bizarre reason." Degare's eyes narrow, but he manages to quickly stifle the anger that briefly flared within him at the comment regarding Averre. "Oh? I've kept my house running and successful, and though you may not like my, ah…performances, to deny their success and the magical prowess required to pull them off is just…dishonest, really." His speech is as cheerful as it was before as he speaks, neglecting to comment at all on the death of his partner. "Maintaining success is akin to stagnation and your shows are an insult to art," Cirroc replies matter-of-factly. Degare rolls his eyes, "Is that truly what you think? You wound me," his words are dripping in sarcasm alongside equally sarcastic and theatrical gesticulation. "Regardless of your personal taste, many others flock here specifically for my work. I'm rather coveted– are you really so arrogant that you think your opinion overrides that of so many of your peers?" He floats the question to the other man with the purpose of seeing how boldly he'd flaunt his ego. Cirroc scoffs, "Yes."That is all he says. Question answered. In response Degare snorts, finding the audacity of that answer to be utterly hilarious. "Is that so?" A question asked as he laughs. "You're a funny one, I think." The other mage replies, "That wasn't a joke." His serious demeanor on top of his profound arrogance would probably be obnoxious to some, but Degare found it endlessly entertaining.
"Hmm…given that art is a matter of taste, you at least can't deny the skill it takes me to pull off such tricks, no?" Again, this question is asked to test the depths of his arrogance. "What use is skill if it is applied in such a garish and useless manner?" Cirroc once again provided a clear answer. His words were pointed like knives. Degare sighs and shakes his head, though it's clear he's not taken offense. Rather, he is reflecting on the sheer level of difficulty it will likely be to convince this man to even like him, much less marry him. "In a way, that answer does admit what I do takes skill…just that you don't approve. That acknowledgement is all I wanted," the elf finally responds, laughing lightly. He grants the other man a fairly sweet smile as a way of thanks for such an admittance, though this is more or less meant to annoy him. "I…" Cirroc begins, looking irritated, "...I meant no compliments to you." His words are almost venomous– clearly displeased Degare had interpreted his statement as a positive.
The Ferrier crosses his arms as if to think for a moment, then raises one hand to his chin, leaving the elbow of that arm in the other hand. "It's clear you're no fan of mine. Why don't we talk about something you actually like, then…? How about…" he trails off, intentionally adding this pause for dramatic effect. "Oh, I know. You! You must like talking about yourself, yes?" Degare gazes at the other man with bright, ruby-flecked amber eyes. There is clear interest and enthusiasm on his face in spite of how rude Cirroc has been. "Tell me…other than preening, how do you spend your time?" The other elf sighs, but really, he does so love talking about himself…such an offer would prove hard for him to resist. He can't even deny the comment about 'preening' given how obvious his vanity is. "If you must know, I have been dedicating my time mostly to necromancy. It is objectively my most useful skill, much as I may covet my other magics," the other mage pauses, though it's clear he isn't yet done speaking. "I work primarily for people of import. I have even done work for my aunt, Montese Lorraine." This statement was a rather unsubtle brag. "Ah, a Lorraine!" Degare exclaims this with convincing, yet feigned, surprise. "...and you've enough skill to have caught her eye? How remarkable you must be," he says this wearing an almost doe-eyed look of admiration. He is trying to be obnoxious at this point. Cirroc shifts, again in discomfort at the attention he's being lavished in by somebody he so clearly does not care for.
Degare continues, "...but you mentioned other magics? Do share. I can see a bit of interest in Malformity, at least. The avian elements are a nice touch, I think." The Ferrier himself is quite fond of all magic. Though there are some types he might be biased towards, he does have a fondness for it in any form. "...Yes. Malformity is my most recently acquired mark, but I am quite a fan of it, personally. The others I have are Squall and Resonance." Degare beams a rather impish grin to the other man as he finishes speaking, obviously rather fascinated with his answers. The three marks the necromancer possesses are all marks which he does not. To him, this only opens a world of possibilities for the two to empower one another with in the future.
As much as the Ferrier was beginning to find himself rather interested in his new companion, a valran of his House taps approaches, standing politely nearby but making sure to be within the man's gaze. Degare smiles politely at Cirroc, "Ah, hold on. It seems somebody needs my attention," as he speaks, he directs his gaze to the valran. "Yes…? Do tell me what you need," he requests with a smooth cadence. "Sorry, Master Socorro– it's just that your presence is requested by another of your family. I wasn't told exactly why…just that it's important." The man speaks quickly, trying to be concise. Degare looks back at Cirroc wearing an apologetic expression, "Ah, such a shame to cut our conversation short…but duty calls, I suppose. I can't wait to meet again," words stated with a mischievous wink and a bright smile as the man of shifting shadows now stands. Cirroc appears to be a combination of relieved, confused, and annoyed. Clearly he doesn't understand why the Ferrier thinks they're inherently fated to meet again. How unfortunate for him.
As Degare and the valran depart, his relief is only more obvious. It was as if the man had been holding his breath the entire time with how deep an exhale he released. Much as he genuinely did not like the head of House Socorro, there was something undeniably alluring about him, though he couldn't place it. Was it his unique, rather ghostly type of ethereal beauty? Was it the intoxicating scent of the man that seemed to awaken long dormant desires within Cirroc? Or was it something else entirely? The necromancer couldn't make sense of the attraction he felt and he absolutely loathed it.
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'Thoughts'
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