[Alistair] A Baptism of Insects

[Vivian]

Ah good. He was whittling down that arrogance a bit, shred by shred. Either this man was convinced he was related to the Emprise and a secretary was doing a very good job at keeping a maniac at bay, or he was a bastard. Both were equally possible, and equally worthless in the eyes of the empire. "I'm sure you laid quite a bit of wood at the Veir's estate." he joked. Business and pleasure were interrelated, hm? This man liked to wear the clothes of a noble but really, all he had told Vivian was that he had just done hard labor for a Veir for money. He was about on the same level as Vivian; selling his body. He just rejected the label, while Vivian embraced it.

Malformity had helped him be less ashamed of sex and his desires. Animals weren't, and men were barely above animals. Why fight what was in one's nature? That was the least natural thing of all. He shook his head a bit at Alistair's evaluation of him.

"I hate the Entente. I hate the nobility. But they're useful monsters no? I'd sooner take a cage of rabid dogs than one of their dinner parties, believe me. They're no one I'm trying to emulate. But staying with a Veir gives me a place to stay and access to books. Kind of like how cutting down some trees and laying brick got you a bed for a fortnight. We're just the same, you and I. Just trying to survive like everyone else. No, if I become one of the Entente I'm not becoming cruel like they are. I saw what it did to my Veir." He shook his head a bit. "No, I'm a prostitute, born and bred. My beauty is natural. My mother was quite pretty." Vivian smiled.

"I'm curious about your magic. And come on, you started it." Vivian said playfully. "You know what I am but I haven't seen such a talent with water since I started charging more for men pissing on me."

[Alistair]

He ignored Vivian's mockery. If he were in a lighter mood, the mage might have laughed along, but instead he merely stared for a moment, only to lower his gaze in dismissal. Silence settled between them for a moment, until Vivian made his assessment of not just the Entente -- but all nobility -- clear. Alistair frowned, shaking his head as his brow crunched, his features stern. "The nobility have a purpose in my lands. Here, they are leeches, nothing more. They are not taught in noblesse oblige, but in vanity and ego and self-worship. That is the consequence of being told, all your life, that you have been chosen by the supreme will of the one God, and that the uninitiated exist to service your every vulgarity."

He sighed. "We are not the same," Alistair contested, looking back up towards Vivian. "I was raised for that purpose, given to me through blood. I do not need to do much in order to survive in this place -- I choose to live as I do to receive the lifestyle I am familiar with. Watching roaches skitter along the edges of a tavern shanty is not my idea of living, only survival in its most dilapidated state. Even animals live among beauty -- forests, hills, meadows and lakes, while the peasantry here dwell within broken-down huts, starved and surrounded by the scent of feces. I would be losing myself to allow my life those conditions."

He allowed for a moment of quiet so that Vivian could finish speaking, and produced a simple rumble of understanding as the other declared himself a prostitute. That made sense... sort of, though he didn't know what sort of prostitute would try to integrate the appearance of a worm. Daravinic men were simple beasts -- they liked handsome faces, beautiful faces, knightly strength or porcelain fragility, and pleasant holes. Not... all of that. Piss-water. He winced again.

"Can you stop being putrid for just a moment?" he questioned, tossing the barista a nod as he handed the mage his tea. Alistair immediately began to sip, though now he was just imagining the scent of piss.

"It's called Baptism -- I'm sure you've heard of it. I am a Risen, a wielder of that magic. I am also an Engraver." A practitioner of Grave. "Because I am skilled in both, I am allowed to mingle within elite circles. None of them believe the Empress is my cousin, either, so you don't need to pretend to humor me any longer. Perhaps my claim merely amuses them. That is fine."

It clearly wasn't.

"You helped me learn a new ability -- I was hopeful that I would refine it in case I needed to cut through your throat, and it seems I will in fact be able to do that, if the need arises. Fortunately, it appears that -- like all serfs -- you have learned to bow. Did you learn that from the innumerable men you allow inside of you?"

[Vivian]

"Ah yes you certainly don't sound like you were raised in arrogance and supremacy." Vivian chuckled. "You sound like every other noble. Serf filth me god. Please. Without the farmers you shit on, you'd starve to death in a week.. Noblesse oblige, give me a gods be damned break." He shook his head. Alistair sounded just like all the rest of them. Superior. So full of themselves with their heads up their own asses it was a wonder they didn't write tomes on their own colonic health. "If you can't even talk to me like a normal man, man to man, what right do you have to pass judgement on the Entente? You'd be sucked into their games by your own arrogance, led around by the nose with the first man who triggered your temper."

He leaned in across the table. "The peasantry here live that way because they are forced to. Don't ever forget that. You speak as though they have a choice. They don't. Gods forbid you muck out a latrine and let some nice farmer's wife make you dinner; your soul would crack in half the minute you touched something gross."

Vivian snorted. "I'll stop being putrid if you stop passing judgement on humble folk. You sound like a Veir, for a man who claims nobles have a purpose in his country." He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, you'll fit in well here regardless of your magic. I'm a Master of my craft. I don't feel the need to use it to subjugate people or threaten to slit their throats. I don't bow to you. Won't ever, in fact, and I doubt you could force the matter. Let's just leave it at that."

Vivian met his eyes. He wasn't afraid of Alistair. He was secure enough in his magic. He didn't want to fight the man, but of course his hackles rose when Alistair insisted on being a jackass. Perhaps he'd poison that next cup of tea. Just enough to get him to vomit his guts out in an alley somewhere. "Why enter my country at all if you hate it so badly?"

[Alistair]

Vivian's sudden emotional rise triggered a very noticeable change in the man: he sat straighter, quieter, his eyes scanning the other as he stared, silenced save for the occasional click of his fingernail against the wood. The Gilded wore a simple, small, but genuine smile. He was glad to bring the other alight the way he did -- it was amusing to him, even pleasing. It changed everything: made his disgust wane, made his interest rise.

"There we are," he began, leaning forward and standing taller so that he loomed over the other, casting a shadow onto him. "No more of your false composure. Now we talk man-to-man. You teased, jested, and mocked; I broke you out of that. You are angry, now. That is preferable to me."

He sat back down, nearly falling onto the seat; his weight applied considerable pressure, but the hefty wood withstood him. Alistair slid his feet forward, slouching, relaxing. His demeanor appeared to shift on a hair, the mage's muscular arms folding, crossed, over his pectorals.

"I do not view peasants as lesser. I view them as the occupants of a different role -- this world is forged by hierarchies, and there must be those who rise to the zenith of those hierarchies. In animals, the leaders of hierarchies look out for those in their care, their charge. They ensure they are supplied, they tend after the sick and mend the spirits of the broken. Mortals are not like this, but we can strive to be. The serfs here -- I never said they belonged where they are, you assumed I felt that way. They are where they are because Daravain society was constructed to keep them there. In Grisic, the people roll in wealth, education and ambition. We Gilded have done our jobs correctly." The man looked up for a moment, quickly adding, "...I was just trying to piss you off. It worked."

He took another sip of his tea, before leaning forward to set it back onto the table. Alistair grew silent, for a moment.

"I was exiled," he answered, eventually. "For being a mage. Normally, in the Commonwealth, you are killed for practicing magic. A Mark of Control is a death sentence. I was spared because I am Gilded -- because the Emperor was afraid that my family would retaliate against him. They are hopeful that I will renounce my arcane arts and return to Praetoria, being absolved of my banishment. I was the Heir of House Reid, a title now belonging to my brother. That slack-jawed fool doesn't have what I have: wit, temerity, strength. I was raised to be Reid's future -- he was raised to be married off to Elizabeth Vernon."

Alistair shook his head, bitterly. "I rarely share all of this, but there's no harm. You are a hemisphere away from the ivory towers of Morghent, and I am a nothing, crawling through the Bleeding-rotted savannah of a backwards theocracy." The man let out a quick, dry laugh. "Most of this Empire doesn't even have running water. In Grisic, we have home heating and cooling systems. Before I left, we created carriages on wheels that could carry families across the countryside in hours. Of course I do not enjoy this country, but I do not have a choice. Lorien is an immiserated warzone, with most of my home's comforts but a frigid wind that chills to the bone. Vendigad doesn't tolerate humans, Radenor is trapped in the Second Age, and Tyrclaid's system is a mess forged of a thousand, arbitrarily formed principalities. Atharen itself is in shambles. Daravin may as well be considered the option I have. At least I can learn more magic, here."

And that was ultimately what it came down to, for him: he could've gone to Tyrclaid to live a stale, meaningless life, but he chose Daravin to gain more power. It was the honing stone for men like him, a place to evolve and become more. Alistair wanted to return to the Empire, but not to beg for forgiveness: he wanted to butcher and cleave his way back onto Praetoria's throne. Grisic had done wrong to him, and he did not wish to let that rest. Even if it meant living in squalor, compared to the majesty of his old, halcyon life.

[Vivian]

"Slack-jawed idiots seem to run in the family." Vivian sneered at him. "So you came here because your own country and family didn't want you. Now what, you're taking the most predictable path imaginable...teaching yourself magic so you can go back, butcher your entire family, and take it by force. Subjugate those who are useful, kill those who aren't, maybe rape a woman and sire yourself an heir." He shook his head. "You might as well be Entente, you sure you don't want to join up? They have a use for bloodthirsty creatures like you."

He ignored Alistair's looming, and waited patiently for him to collapse back into the protesting chair. He eyed him, disgust marring his pretty features. He'd been attracted to Alistair, but Alistair had nothing of Degare's dangerous charm. He was about as charming as a rabid polecat posing as a palace lion. Degare had pulled him in, had never wavered, had been as beautiful and dangerous as many of the creatures Vivian so admired. Yet...he'd also been unworthy of Malformity, just as this man was. Malformity was based on empathy. Humbling oneself before nature and admiring it's strangest gifts. Vivian shook his head.

"So you hate this place, you view yourself as better than we are because you....what, don't walk and have more carriages? Gods, remind me never to go to your country. We may be a 'backwards theocracy', but at least we don't slaughter mages. Your country sounds just as brutal and stupid as this one. Both of them can burn as far as I'm concerned, and take your precious throne and the Entente with it." Vivian ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine. You don't want friends in this country? That's your business. But men don't survive alone here very often, or for very long, and revenge plots like the one you want to undergo take friends. One-man battalions only exist in story books."

[Alistair]

As amusing as it had been to draw Vivian into a state of ire, the man now found himself having difficulty in pulling him back out of it. He had pulled too many levers, and the machine was beginning to unravel. That was not preferable to him -- people had been staring for a while, but now they were leaving, or urging the barista to have them removed, while the young man stared in terror as he watched two powerful mages clash.

"This is a Godless world," he whispered, quietly. "We slander ourselves with our moral claims. You castigate me on the one hand, but on the other encourage the death of many. You were right, in what you said earlier: we are the same. You merely want a taste of the same supremacy I have already consumed to the point of languor. It is addicting, climbing the moral high-ground: it is more addicting to be on top of it. As your magic elevates you through this society, you will understand."

He laughed to himself; it appeared Vivian probably actually believed him, now: that he was the cousin to the Empress, the Heir to House Reid. His fury had allowed him to see Alistair for what he was, a truth made evident by the perfect way in which he wielded noble disdain.

"I do not hate this place. It is beautiful -- the countryside is stunning, unlike anything I have ever seen. I understand, now, why the Elves fret so much over their ancestral home: why they still fight for it, even now." The mage turned to face the window, the glass still held open, wind flowing through and lifting the curtains with a slow, gentle breeze. "I misled you by claiming I do not enjoy it, here. In fact, I enjoy it very much. My weary heart tells me to go home, but in this place I am stoked towards adventure, and achievement. It guides me somewhere, and so I will stay, until the moment I am no longer certain of my footing. And then -- I will return home, with or without an army, with or without a reason. Grisic becomes more sophisticated by the hour, and I become more of a distant memory. Of course I long to be remembered."

He sighed, narrowing his stare, lowering it. "I never said I don't want friends here. I have friends aplenty. Your malformation struck a nerve, and you did not respond favorably towards my request to reduce your overtness. This is not my usual state -- it is a state you have drawn from me, just as my words have drawn this from you. I will ask, once, that we express ourselves civilly and start again. If you decline this request, then I will simply leave you to your rage."

[Vivian]

Vivian glared at him, and regarded him coldly. "I want enough magic to be free. That is all. Enough magic, enough money, to be free." He said icily. "I don't need to lead a family, or claim a throne." He set his jaw and folded his arms across his chest. Alistair wouldn't understand what Vivian wanted. How could he? How could he possibly understand that Vivian, at his core, only wanted enough to stop worrying. To stop worrying where his next meal came from, to stop worrying about what people thought of him, or where he stood. He lifted his chin, looking down on Alistair as Alistair had looked down on him.

Really? He truly expected him to believe he liked this place after he had gone on about how their peasants lived in filth, how they were backwards? He had done nothing but talk slander about the common man. Oh they had their place, their uses, but they were beneath dear royal Alistair. He'd use people and throw them away as a royal, the same as any of them, if indeed he was related to her. Gods willing, he was just a madman with a bastard's claim no one would take seriously.

He tightened his jaw. It wouldn't do any good to say anything when he was this angry. He glanced at the nervous barista, who looked about ready to start chewing the ceiling tiles out of anxiety. "I won't do anything to harm you." Vivian said, tempering his tone for the other man. "Him I can't say, he threatened to slit my throat within five minutes of meeting me."

The mage looked down at the table. He missed Arkash. Deeply. Gentle and kind people weren't only a rarity in Daravin...he was beginning to think they were downright mythic. He messed with the tablecloth for a moment. Gods, why did he just want to go back to his hotel room and destroy the entire room, then cry in it? "Sometimes I think he might be right in that instinct." he mumbled, sighing deeply. "Fine, I'm disgusting. You win."

[Alistair]

The man sighed out, his features as defeated as he was internally. He wanted to correct Vivian and inform him that he had not, in fact, threatened him, and that his words were meant to break down his false ensemble. He decided there was little he could say to defuse the peak they had escalated onto -- if it was not impossible, it was very nearly that. Still, he would try, because Alistair did not favor making enemies, and Vivian was actually alluding that he might attempt to bring him harm.

"I felt threatened by you," he said. His tone was low, flattened by exhaustion; his features were almost empty, if not somewhat solemn. There was very clearly no malice, any more, or any attempt to provoke Vivian's ire. Alistair was bargaining for an end to the tense portion of their exchange. "I have met mages who... came off the way you did, and shortly after attempted to take my life. You are unconventional. Not 'disgusting' as a fact of who you are, but some people can be disgusted by simple, predictable things, and that instinct is deeply connected to others that fire on fight-or-flight. I am not asking you to rebuke yourself. I was harsh, and I ask for your forgiveness, for that. You have seen a side of me that is not real -- it is a barbed facade, meant to push you away. I can see that all I really did, though, was gash you. That was not my intent."

He felt ridiculous, speaking the way he was, but his lips moved on their own. It was rare that he acted out of compassion, but he wasn't really certain it was that. It could've also been to save public face, or simply to end the exchange. He did not really know.

"My name is Alistair Reid. Let's start again. As I said before, I enjoy this land, and want to see more of it. I feel sorrow for the peasantry, the conditions they live in. I wish to help make those conditions improve. If you wish for the same thing, then I can only ask that we communicate without all of the spite."

[Vivian]

Travelling had clearly been a mistake. He'd been in good spirits when he'd sat down and tried to joke Alistair out of his stiff, arrogant attitude. He wasn't sure now if Alistair was trying to prevent making an enemy of him because he was a decently powerful mage, or because he genuinely felt bad. No. Nobles didn't feel bad for anyone, much less peasants. Like Degare, they were soulless monsters who wanted things that would benefit them, coveting power. He was trying to save face and reputation, and Vivian would let him. Or maybe...he looked at Alistair. Maybe there was a way to find out which version of Alistair was the real one.

"Vivian Kreine. And if you really want to help the peasantry....come follow me." He said simply, and rose from the table. "You might have to see something disgusting, but I hope you can stomach it. You truly want to help these people? Then come and help the people I grew up around. Come with me." Vivian's tone was slightly challenging. He certainly didn't believe Alistair, but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and let him prove himself. Actions spoke louder than words. They could talk about how to improve the lives for people all they wanted. It was action that would generate change.

Vivian didn't fear slums. Not even here, in Bardona. Searing meant that access to clean water would be dubious. People would be dusty, dirty and tired. Their children would be overheated, exhausted, and begging for fresh water. Their homes would be hot, dry, choked with stagnant air from weeks of suffering during the Searing. Baptism could cut through grime and help bring people water. It could help wash clothing, cool down the people, and water any crops they'd managed to plant. Vivian's extra appendages could help, and the Consumer could be used as a dray beast if needed. If Alistair truly stood behind his words...then they would see.

Vivian waited expectantly for the other mage, eyebrows raised in an invitation. He was serious now, no jesting or sexual jokes. He wanted to help.

[Salen]

Alistair

Lores
Baptism: Laceration
Baptism: Manipulating viscosity
Baptism: Laceration: Can be easier with higher fluid density
Baptism: Laceration: Forming sharpened sheets
10x Generic Lores

Vivian
Malformity: Integration: Using your imprinted animal to drink in unique ways
Malformity: Integration: Strict control of new parts can be pleasing to some...grotesque to others
Malformity: Integration: A rarity outside of Daravin, and shocking to Griscians
Malformity: Using the enhanced senses of your templates to determine information
Malformity: History is hidden through scent, a mule's nose picks up what a man's cant, and quietly
Malformity: Ethology: Having your temper affect your Integration
Malformity: Ethology: The hammerhead worm responds stronger to anger, the mule to information gathering
Malformity: Synchrony: The worm liked that you were aggressive and strong, this template has become stronger.
Malformity: Synchrony: Empathizing with the want to eat another person out of anger.
Malformity: Embodying: Releasing your integration quickly to return to normal
Seduction: Not everyone appreciates lewd jokes.
Seduction: Showing your tongue can be sexy
Seduction: Some people find tentacles arousing...others repulsive.
Seduction: Knowing when you're not someone's type
Seduction: Keeping your emotions in check for a desired outcome.

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A

Points:
8 Points for Baptism for Ali.
8 Normal Points for Vivian.

Comments: Vivian is the equivalent of Bad Janet; his memory palace will probably have the "Gummy Bear" remix played on loop and if you tried to turn it off, it would only get louder and more annoying. I enjoyed the chaos, feel free to ask any questions.