Judge a Book by its Cover (Mythics)

[A®heim]

It was quiet in the practically 4th dimensional maze of the Tower's massive library. To any who had never visited it before, it could be very easy to get lost within; it's towering shelves interlaced with various walkways through doors that seemingly lead nowhere they should could overwhelm the unfocused mind. The library was a vast font of all the Stellar Mythics existed for, the pursuit and collection of knowledge. It was a symbol of the Mythos intellect and remained about as incoherent to all who wandered amongst its weathered peals.

Except the librarian.

Magnus Sententia, as he had been named, shuffled amiably along a narrow corridor between shelves that stretched up and away from any grabbing hands. This may seem somewhat counter-intuitive for a library, but the aged Rishii like it this way. This way, the only means by which one could attain a certain book was to either get it themselves through not so standard means (thus ensuring they had the capability to handle the knowledge they sought), or to find and ask him (thus ensuring he knew about it). This was the way it worked, this was the way he had spent several years arranging it as such, and this was the way that far surpassed the Dewey-decimal system in terms of comprehensibility.

He carried with him a thick, leather-bound volume bearing the title "Exogorths and Why You Shouldn't Feed Them" which he had just spent the last few hours reading from cover to cover-- a feat he could never have hoped to accomplish in his days before the Mythics. However, he had been trained in the last few decades to learn all, learn fast, and never forget.

And now he needed a new book.

Magnus paused at the shelf where he had fetched his book almost without the need to even look up. He knew this library like the tip of his tail and the addition of an extra axis of travel his species provided him made this familiarity stretch up as well as across. Shrugging off his loose robe (custom-tailored almost more like a poncho), he released his staff--which remained perfectly upright despite complete lack of balance--and hung the robe upon its end. Free of the restrictive garment, he secured the book in his beak by the leather binding and hopped into the air. The flight was difficult with the considerable weight of the tome, but it was short and he quickly found himself perched on the shelf alongside a small gap in the imposing facade of knowledge.

The volume was inserted and the barrier was restored. At least it was for the next couple seconds. Magnus nonchalantly reached out a clawed hand, plucked the proceeding volume from the shelf, and fluttered back down to where his staff and robe awaited. Donning the latter and taking up the former, he began the journey back to his desk with the new read beneath his wing.

The Rishii's desk was no small testament to his nature. With a little background knowledge and slightly more deductive reasoning, the old owl's entire life could be discerned from the trinkets atop it. Various jars stood atop dusty volumes; ancient medicines and old favorites. Mahogany drawers would reveal endless nic-nacks from lives far past; there was a terrorbeast incisor from that incident in the Evus forest, and nestled behind it was a package of dried herbs known for reversing the effects of zyphter venom. The chronicle continued back to his first journey to neighboring systems, a souvenir here, a material battle scar there.

He settled himself on the polished surface of his desk and looked about the library fondly. It was quiet indeed, no more than the occasional understudy seemed to wander its bowels. Perhaps he would finally have a peaceful afternoon to sit back and read. The volume he had just retrieved lay before him, yet another turn of the labyrinth of knowledge itching to be explored. A familiar warmth emanated from the small rock sitting atop an ornate pedestal to his left. An exonium stone. That and the simple letter opener resting beside it were yet more remnants of a life so far gone it had begun to feel like a dream.

Perhaps life is but a dream.

[Kella]

Deep within the library, within the twisting corridors of books, in such a tangled place that no sane soul would ever set foot, Iri walked.

She walked and she sang, a humming little tune that went up and down, soft and dusty like a butterfly. Suddenly she stopped spying the tome of her delight.

"Orpheus!" she cried, "There it is!"

The large bird swept over and perched on an ancient globe, all his sweeping feathers disturbing not a single fleck of dust. He shimmered iridescent shades of red and gold and violet and blue, with a slim, elegant head, and onyx eyes and beak.

"Up there!" Iri said, and pointed at the object of her heart's desire, so high that the angle of her arm dropped her cloak's wide sleeve back to the shoulder.

Orpheus sighed. He was a beautiful bird, but a lazy one. Even so, he spread his wings and pushed them downwards, lifting himself up, up, up to the highest shelf. His long, oh-so-long feathers trailed behind, and Iri smiled with delight. She loved Orpheus and his feathers, his colorful feathers.

Carefully he extracted the book from the shelf, and then banked his wings, twirling down again in a languid spiral. He swooped in front of Iri, and dropped the book in her hands, and she sighed with happiness and began to walk.

Her fingers smoothed over the cover, once-tough leather worn soft and supple by years and years and hands and hands. It was the royal purple of an Iris, or maybe a plum, or, or an eggplant, or some equally delightful thing... She flipped her fingers across the pages, noting the rough parchment, the yellowed glue and the tattered edges...

She noted that the title was stamped in silver leaf, the pages printed in a faded, elegant type... she hadn't noted the words yet, so wrapped up in the letters -- blind to the forest, for the trees. She examined the book in this way, the stains, and the satin ribbon, and the impression of a vase, and all sorts of other things -- for quite some time, and followed half-attentively as Orpheus led her out of the maze again. He was a smart bird.

As she emerged from narrow rows into the slightly open centre of the library, Iri breathed in deep the scent and flavor of the book. Oh the stories it told! And she hadn't even looked at its words yet!

She walked by a particular table, where she'd left her staff a few hours ago, before she'd dove into the depths of the library, in search of the Holy Grail she now held. Evoco was just where she'd left him, sitting still with his slender shaft, wrapped in all sorts of textures, a cloudy fist-sized sphere suspended in iron half-ring at the end. As she picked it up, the many odds-and-ends which hung around the end clicked together and made their music. Her touch seemed to light a fire within the sphere, and it began to leap and glow with every imaginable color, a currently subtle, but still dazzling swirl.

Just as she was about to actually read the book's title, she spied a familiar feathered face, and that mission was put on hold.

"C'mon Orpheus," she said, and the bird reluctantly stirred himself from his perch on a velvet-cushioned chair. Joy in Iri's step, she approached the bird-fellow and his desk.

"Hallo, Maggie!" she cried, smiling brightly to him. She didn't really know him all that well, but she'd been in and out of the library enough to know his name, and that he was the librarian, and that he was a rather nice fellow -- at least, in Irrisorie's opinion. Then again, she tended to think a great many people were nice.

Orpheus perched on the corner of the Riishi's desk, eying his fellow avian, while Irrisorie put both hands upon the grip of her staff, and leaned forward on it, looking lovingly down at Maggie and his book, and waiting for the librarian to return her greeting.

[A®heim]

"Son of a Gundark" spread its wisened arms to bellow forth its contents. This work was significantly newer than the last the Rishii had read through and the pure white of pages untarnished by age seemed to glow in the gentle light of the exonium stone. This piece was a novel, but this did nothing to disuade Magnus. Fictional works held a different sort of knowledge, a whimsical sort far from the overt instruction found in most of their collection but no less potent. Contrary to what one may infer about an Infomancer's tastes, Magnus actually preffered these novels over other forms of literature. If anyone knew the wonders of the conjured mind, it was a Mythic. Particularly certain kinds.

Particularly that one.

The peace shattered by what felt like a wampa doing the polka. Of course, this was a gross exageration, but Magnus never reacted well to having his readings inturupted, or his nickname used. He looked up slowly from his book, the figure of the mental master herself loomed over him. Not that "mental master" was quite the right description. Mental, yes (in all meanings of the word), but from what he had observed of this girl, she was far from in complete control of her abilities. The bird perched next to him on his desk was testament to that.

Good afternoon, Iri. He nodded reverently to the bird. Orpheus. He spoke in his quiet tenor, a slight accent hopefully shading his slight irritation. In truth, these feelings were based soley on the dashing of a simple pleasure and not at all directed at his present company--just the fact they were company. On the contary, he admitted himself fascinated by Irrisorie and her...condition.

To any naive, untouched onlooker, the sight would seem a normal (other than the slight oddities in apparel and appearance) conversation. Of course, they wouldn't see the bird and Iri's staff would just look like it had a rock suspended atop it. Magnus' mind's eye, on the other hand, made a single sweep of the room and that fog became nearly tangible. Perhaps fog was the wrong word as well; "fog" entails an unpleasant wall that obscures the vision. This....mist did quite the opposite. Iri's mind had a well of slipping past a Mythic's barrier. Once entangled in the wit of another, they saw what her intricate and unorthadox psyche conjured up.

Yes, he had studied it intently. That's what he did to every subject that fascinated him as many other Mythics before, after, and during him had, will, and are done/doing. ((OOC: Wow...say that out loud.))

From what he had deduced, the effect it had differed slightly amongst individuals. While it was always Iri's thoughts one was witnessing, everyone interprets ideas differently and this had a direct effect on their perception. Magnus saw the mist (or myst as it appeared in his notes on the subject) as something akin to the auroras of colder regions. It shimmered and undulated at the edge of his subconcious changing, not when his gaze drifted, but when his thoughts drifted--like how mother of pearl changes its sheen when tilted in the sunlight. Iri's familiars appeared in that same semi-coherent manner, as if his mind all at once wanted something to be there but knew better. This myst he sat surrounded in now, watching the silken colors drift by.

His gaze at last came to rest on the dusty text in her arms. He recognized it immediately, something that slightly perturbed him; he had catagorized that particular work in the IXCâɸ section, out of reach and out of mind in the deepest bowels of his library. How had she managed to find it, let alone reach it? He eyed the bird again. Right, Orpheus. He seemed to be a sort of guide for Iri, likely guiding her through the maze-like archives with little to no difficulty. As for reaching the book, he had to keep in mind that her familiars were merely extensions of her own will and talent with telekinesis.

What a strange, strange girl.

He nodded to the book. I read that the day before Lightbringer Keris was ambushed by the Unum. Horrible mess, it was also the first time I had been called in as a medical consultant since my reincarnation to me latest life. He adjusted his spectacles--he could see a rat blink from 300 meters, but the nearsight required to read was beyond him unassisted--and gave Iri and even stare through wide, amber eyes. Is there anything I can do for you?

[Rugs]

Ah, it's good to be back.

That singular phrase, simple though it might have been, had been running through Kvothe's mind more times than he cared to count recently. He'd been sent away, out into the Galaxy on a leave of sorts by his superiors within the Swords, who feared that Kvothe's single-minded pursuit of his work was starting to have adverse affects on who he was as a person. The Mythos only knew he'd changed after all the things he'd been through in his life; he didn't need stresses created by himself to push him further. Of course Kvothe argued with them at first, but in the end he gave in, and went on his journey.

Perhaps it had been wise to get away, all things considered. He'd been a wide stretch of worlds--Ruusan, Nar Shadaa, Coruscant, and even Nal Hutta, to name a few. He'd met both a Sith and a former member of the Jedi Council, with a Mandalorian and an untrained Force sensitive boy in between. And on Cerea, he'd met Talau, the Jedi woman who shared the same blood as he, being a Rilan. He'd collected focus crystals in a cave, felt love, battled against the Exchange... Needless to say, Kvothe had been quite the busy bee. But, as memorable as his adventure was, it was good to be back on Aiaru. It was good to be back within the depths of the Tower. It was good to be home.

Of course, that return meant he'd have to return to doing his duties in hunting down members of the Unum, and with that the stresses would return. Kvothe was sure that he could handle that, though. Under all of that though, loomed the returned threat of another encounter with Vorian, and the thought of that frightened Kvothe a bit. Well, given his track record with Vorian, it was understandable. Those worries were for another day, though. Kvothe was quite happy to spend this day being happy to be home again.

The young Rilan found himself in the Tower's extraordinarily expansive library. He was traveling lightly today, as his armor was resting on a rack in his quarters, along with his sword. No, Kvothe wore only his robes, with his leather boots and some gloves that cut off at the finger, along with the ever-present green sash about his waist and the red and gold metal armband that was always resting on his left arm, just above his elbow. Of course, he could always be seen with his Pietas, his staff, and today was no different, though that thing was enough of a weapon by itself, bladed the way it was. Still, though, considering the way he sometimes went about, Kvothe was quite unburdened. And with good reason; they'd be in terrible, terrible trouble if he needed his armor within the very walls of the Tower. Though, with the Unum spies lurking about...

Pleasant thoughts, he reminded himself with a shake of his head. I haven't even been home for two days yet. That can wait.

Fas, his nearly ever-present familiar, was in tow, lights on his tails making it easier to see in the dim library. Though, to Kvothe's Etherium-enhanced eyes, it wasn't all hard to see. Fas stopped near one shelf of books, looking at them with a sudden interest that Kvothe recognized. "No, Fas," he said, crouching down near the flickercat and pulling his head gently away from the books. "Last time you got to one of these books I thought Magnus was going to run me through with that letter opener of his. Don't do it now. Not on my first visit back." Fas looked at Kvothe with his amber eyes for a few moments before seemingly shrugging the notion away. Kvothe laughed and scratched Fas behind his ears before continuing on.

Kvothe's purpose for coming to the library was two-fold. On one hand, he was actually in search of a certain book--a volume in a series on telekinetic practices, one that he was particularly fond of, given his talents. On the other, he was, recently returned as he was, merely looking about to see who he could find; it had been a long while since he had the chance to interact with any other in the Order, after all.

He rounded a shelf of books and was pleasantly surprised to see Magnus--or Maggie, as he was lovingly called by many--behind his desk, with a book in hand. Well, maybe 'surprised' wasn't the right word, considering who Magnus was... His eyes, which were, as they had been for most of his time back, a deep forest green, also looked to see another standing near the old Rishii; Iri, if the faint blue haze that gently shifted about like the morning fog that often hovered over one of Aiaru's many rivers was anything to go by. She was an interesting girl, to say the least. Despite the fact that he knew she was a friend, a small wave of unease passed through Kvothe as he began to make his way over toward her and Magnus. Iri was telepath-- a powerful one, though some of her talents were raw and unrefined. Telepaths made Kvothe uneasy. It was a lingering fear from his captivity, and it affected every telepath, friend or foe. He wasn't so blinded by his fear to make him make a fool of himself, though. As long as they stayed away from touching his mind, anyway.

That was an odd thing about Iri's power, though. Technically, she was, in a way, always touching his mind, with that strange power of hers. But it was so non-invasive, so benign... Kvothe didn't really understand it (to say the least) but he didn't mind it, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

"Hey Maggie, Iri. Orpheus," said Kvothe with a nod to each of them in turn; even the hallucinatory bird. Kvothe came to stand near one of the corners of Magnus' desk, leaning some of his weight on Pietas. Fas, went over to inspect Iri, as he seemed to be interested in her; it was hardly surprising, considering who she was. He smiled warmly at them. "It's been a while."

[Kella]

Iri's eyes sparkled with interest as she listened to the old bird speak. Iri thought it was very special that he could remember the particular day he had read the book. She saw more than the words of a book, entranced by its texture and character... but he saw even more than that within the binding. It made her smile.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

Iri let her head fall to the side, thinking. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Somehow, that helped her ponder. Well, she'd come to say hi. And she'd already done that. Was there something else? ... she couldn't remember, and so she looked expectantly at Orpheus. Maybe he remembered.

In shifting her eyes, a new something caught them. Another person, coming!

Oh, oh, oh! she thought to herself. I know this one!

"Hey Maggie, Iri, Orpheus," he said.

"Kvothe, right?" she asked, biting her lip for only a moment more before giggling coyly, because she knew she was right. As Fas approached, however, the name-game was forgotten.

"Hello kitty," she crooned, smoothing a gentle hand over the crest of his head, and then scritching him under the chin. He had such a wonderful texture, the short, fine hair soft and rough at the same time, complicated -- made of two different types of hair. The undercoat and the guard hairs, a delectable mixture of flavors, like taste for your fingers. She gasped with delight at the glowing blue of his tails, watching them lick back and forth for a moment. It reminded her of something, and still scritching Fas, she looked up at Kvothe again.

"Somebody said you went to Ruusan! Did you see any Bouncers? Did they talk to you?"

Her eyes were bright and her smile expectant, as if a single word on the Ruusanian creatures could have made her day. And actually, that single word could have. Such was just Iri's way.

[A®heim]

It had been a relatively simple question, but Iri seemed to have trouble. Then again, was it really surprising that she of all people would be unsure of whether or not she needed help with something? So she did what any logical being would do: consulted an imaginary bird. Except…was it not merely an extension of her own mind? Would it not know just as much as her? He too fixed the semi-coherent feathered creature with a perplexed look.

He sensed Kvothe’s presence the moment he entered the library. There could be no mistaking it; bold, stalwart, and purposeful. At his approach, Magnus pretended not to notice. This lasted until he addressed the wise, old infomancer.

With that accursed nickname again.

A wispy sigh heralded the change of gaze towards the newcomer. Kvothe was relatively well known in the Tower. His exploits against the Unum and combat prowess had garnered him no small amount of respect among the Mythics. Magnus inclined his head slightly. Young master Algaterra, it is a great relief to have you returned to us safely. Word of your journeys has passed through many whispered word in the archives. He gestured to a pair of lounge chairs a short distance from his desk-- cozy antiques with leather softened by decades of tired bodies. Please. Enlighten us.

He had watched this lad closely for many years now, and with good reason; whenever that Sword was involved, Magnus the medic had a bit more company in the infirmary. For better or for worse. Of course, the old riddle goes that the number of wounded soldiers increased when issued better helmets. Wounded, more. Dead , significantly less so. Kvothe stirred up the zyphter hive now and then, but the Mythics were more than grateful to have him as their helmet.

That, and where he went he often brought back such marvels of the outside world. Wondrous places
With equally curious individuals, and now he had returned from Ruusan. A wondrous world if there ever was one. Magnus had read a little about the Bouncers Iri mentioned in one of the millions of archive files floating about in the library’s cyberspace. The entry was scarce. There was still much to learn about these creatures, perhaps the young Sword had dug up more.

I have the usual throw cushion over by the chairs as well. For your Flickercat. He looked to Fas as he said this, well aware of its significant intelligence even for one of its species. That seemed to happen to the familiars many Mythics took. The mental link established between the two organisms no doubt influences both participants. Perhaps a little of the Mythic intellect seeps into the beast… Nonetheless, Kvothe was lucky to have managed to bond with such an elegant creature. Befriending a Flicker isn’t common practice, but it’s a potent one—he knew Fas would go to its fullest to protect his partner. Magnus himself had often thought of forming a bond with a familiar, maybe something tall enough to reshelf some of the books for him, but he had never cared much for critters. Always chewing on his books. And now he was being sidetracked again. Shame on him.

He blinked off the absent gaze and continued merrily. Yes yes, do tell. I have much desire to listen.

[Rugs]

"Really now? Word has spread of my journeys?" Kvothe barked a laugh at that. "As if I didn't fight tooth and nail to avoid being sent away. But I guess it was good in the end." The air shifted at the behest of his outstretched hand, and with it came a chair, one that Kvothe turned around and sat in backwards, with his arms resting crossed on the top of the chair's back. The chair was followed by a cushion for Fas, though his familiar seemed content to stay next to Iri, and that was where he sat. It wasn't anything personal, his gaze seemed to say, but she was scratching him, where Kvothe was running his mouth.

His gaze shifted to Iri and he smiled sadly. As much as he'd hate to let the high-spirited girl know that he hadn't seen any Bouncers, he didn't want to lie about it. Such things were beyond his control, anyway. Besides, he'd never seen Iri upset over anything, though he heard she could be quite the handful when she went into an Etherium withdrawal.

"Unfortunately, I wasn't able to run into any Bouncers, but I did find something else. Something I wasn't expecting to find..." His hand went into a pocket on his robes--which, it must be pointed out could hold a rather respectable amount of stuff; never let it be said that Mythics did not care about their pockets--to retrieve a memento of his time on Ruusan. One of several mementos. "Magnus, Iri, you're familiar with the Kell Dragons? Smaller cousins of the Krayt Dragons, native to Ruusan. Well," he withdrew his hand from the pocket and deposited a small item onto Magnus' desk, "I found one of those. Fought it. Killed it. With the aid of... a friend."

A scale was revealed by his retreating hand. It was fairly large, with a grey sheen to it that glittered darkly in the low light of the library. "It was in a crystal cave. I don't know what we did to it, but it was pissed off. You'd think someone threw a zyphter hive at i- well, no, then it would be dead." Auburn eyebrows knitted in thought as the Sword scratched his chin, working to come up with a suitable example of the Kell Dragon's rage. "Well, you know what I mean. It was mad. but I brought that scale back for you, Magnus. I thought you might appreciate it.

"And speaking of the crystal cave..." Again, Kvothe dug around in his pocket, until he felt what he was searching for. "It was amazing, to say the least. There were crystals all over the walls and ceilings, and I could feel the Mythos so strongly there..." A smile touched his face and he sighed wistfully. "I sometimes wish I could go back to it. But, Iri, I brought this back for you." His hand went up, this time holding a small, cubic crystal. It was the green of the magnificent trees of the Evus forest in spring, with a smooth, polished-looking exterior, even though Kvothe had not once polished it. The green in his eyes deepened when he smiled at Iri. "I thought you might like it." There was another crystal that he had from that cave, one that was a deep, burnished gold in color. That one was going to be Kvothe's own, for a number of reasons, the least of which being that he'd been hit by a vision the first time he touched it. It also seemed to him that the crystal, being from an area of such high concentration of the Mythos as it were, made it a bit easier to meditate, much like Etherium. But the way they did it was different, almost as if echoes of Kvothe's own self were reflected within it more he used them in his meditation. Or perhaps the Etherium was getting to him and making him crazy.

"But I don't want this to just be about me and my stories from my travels," Kvothe went on to say, though he certainly had plenty of stories to tell. His weight shifted as he stretched, pushing on his back until there was a satisfying crack!. "How have you two been? How have things been here while I was away? I am quite out of the loop now, y'know."

[Kella]

Irrisorie listened to Maggie's request for more information, and she nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Pausing a moment to give a sweet smile to Fas, she switched to giving him a scritch between the ears, before looking back at Kvothe, as he began to speak.

She hardly had a moment to process the lack of information on bouncers, and so she happily shrugged it off, easily distracted by his next words. He'd found something else? Some thing unexpected? Excitement tingled in her fingers, coursing through her, from her scalp to her toes. New bits of information, new things, they thrilled her...

"Magnus, Iri, you're familiar with the Kell Dragons? Smaller cousins of the Krayt Dragons, native to Ruusan," he said, and Iri nodded again. Big, scary scaly guys. She loved to look at their pictures in the tomes, with their long, gleaming teeth, and all those scales!

"I found one of those. Fought it. Killed it. With the aid of... a friend," he continued. Now, something about that pause of hesitation, those words, piqued a little bit of interest in Iri's mind. She may not have seen the world like everyone else seemed to, but she wasn't oblivious, either. If someone was a usual sort of friend, the sort of friend where you just knew that they were your friend, then you didn't have to pause for a bit. And, if someone was just an acquaintance, then you said 'acquaintance', or you said 'friend' without really thinking about it. So not just a friend. So maybe an almost-enemy, or more then a friend. Kvothe definitely had more stories to tell, Iri knew that for sure.

But then Kvothe proffered a scale, a real Kell Dragon scale! and Iri quickly tucked her thoughts away, silently tasking Orpheus to remember them. She eyed the magnificent bit of gray in Kvothe's hand, and a small sigh of longing eased from her chest as she watched the marvelous trinket pass into Maggie's hands... She loved such things, shiny and small, with their own texture, and sheen, and all the different little facets of detail to discover, and--

Iri heard her nickname, and her eyes focused intently on Kvothe. In her musings, she'd missed a bit of the conversation. An expectant glance at Orpheus, and the bird muttered lowly. She understood him to mean something about crystal caves, and her eyes widened even further as she looked back at Kvothe.

There, in his hand, a piece of Emerald moonshine... Oh, it was so beautiful! Like a spring bud in the forest, or, or... oh, it was more brilliant than anything she could compare it to! And he was holding it out to her.

She took it in her palm, cradling the crystal gently. Excitement coursed down her spine. It wasn't only a crystal, it was a crystal from another world! Perfectly cubic, and so, so smooth as she ran her thumb across it... gleaming with a sheen like stars! The crystal was translucent, and it cast a few ghostly glimmers of green light on her hand...

Iri gasped with delight. She ran her thumb quickly over her fingers, snapper her wrist so that an orb of bright light appeared in her palm -- a simple skill with the Mythos. Gently, she placed the crystal in the center of the orb, and suddenly the light echoed its brilliant green shade. Phantoms of green danced on Iri's flushed face, trickled down to swirl on the ground, and splashed upon Kvothe and Maggie as well. Iri giggled with joy.

She waited for Kvothe to finish speaking, then, gently, she let the light in her palm extinguish. Taking great care, she tucked the gem into one of the pouches of her belt. Later, in her room, with everything dark as pitch, and her light and the crystal, OH! The spectacle she'd make!

Iri practically dove for Kvothe, throwing her arms around his neck in a bone-crushing hug. "Oh thank you so much!" she said, voice breathy with awe. After a moment, she released the poor Sword, stepping back so she was within Fas's petting range again. Even the mythos seemed to echo her utter joy.

Orpheus gave her a meaningful look, and she remembered Kvothe's question. "Things were quite splendid here," she said, nodding emphatically. "But they always are," Iri added with a smile.

[A®heim]

The feathered tip of Magnus' tail drifted lazily back and forth as he took in every drop of nectar. For that's what information was to the Infomancer-- a sweet, sweet sustenance that enthralled the mind and inspired the body. Amber eyes nearly aglow watched Kvothe, blinking at slow, regular intervals, taking in every detail; logging it for a day yet to come. Kvothe was still young, but circumstance had seemed to have a vengeance on him. He was wise beyond his years and with just a little more experience, he could learn to utilize knowledge, the greatest weapon of the mind, and become even more.

Those same eyes never wavered at the mention of the Sword's "friend." Magnus had more than enough talent in the unspoken to give a clear message: This would be discussed further. There was quite a bit more to this story than the heavy-handed slaying of a vicious dragon by the brave-hearted knight. The knight isn't always unaided, but some aid is better left out of a fairy tale.

His tail stopped its movement and the fan of feathers on the end snapped together as Kvothe produced the scale from his seemingly bottomless pockets. The amber gaze, too, followed the object all the way onto his desk where his claws grasped it tenderly for inspection. It was near flawless, a dull green at first glance, but the color held a depth to it as if one might fall in if they leaned to close. Of course, you may do just that if this were still attached to the kell. He mused to himself, feeling the gentle tug of Iri's myst. Gentle, but ever present.

His head nodded slightly in respect to Kvothe, who he directly addressed. No words in any language, no matter how ancient, can echo my thanks. This will make a marvelous addition to my collection. He placed it on a smooth placard on the far right of his desk, next to an ornate brass microscope and a portable holoscanner. It would be studied extensively in his free time to see what extraordinary properties could be deciphered.

The crystal Kvothe then presented to Iri also caught Magnus' eye. His analytical gaze reported flawless curves, a pure depth unmarred by any mineral radiation of any sort--unless the entire thing gave off its own. He watched in awe as it burst into brilliant emerald light at Iri's touch. Oh how he so longed to study it, but the scale was enough for now and there was no denying it was the perfect gift for the young Mythic. A light chuckle escaped his beak when the Sword was tackled.

Kvothe's next question, however, brought a less pleasant emotion to bear. He began to answer but Iri stepped in first.

"Things were quite splendid here, but they always are."

This was true in a sense. Little ill had befallen the Tower itself in Kvothe's absence, but if only that were but the extent. However, the Tower at least remained a sanctuary. A sanctuary where Irisorrie's innocence may be permitted to remain intact. There would be no point in ruining this now. Magnus settled with setting Kvothe another meaningful stare and nearly projected a thought to him before the eager, almost hungry presence of the myst reminded him how unwise that would be. He intended to speak with Kvothe afterwords. Alone.

Yes, yes. We remain well. The hours blend into days and the days into months. I am pleased to have you returned if only for the opportunity to liven up the place a bit.

[Rugs]

It was good to see the others appreciated his gifts. Of course, Kvothe'd thought from the time he got the scale and the crystal that these two Mythics in particular would appreciate them. "Of course, Magnus. I'm sure I owe you something after all this time." After all, Magnus had taughta few classes Kvothe had been in during his youth, and, whether the old Rishii knew it or not, he'd become a sort of mentor and role model in Kvothe's mind after his father's assassination. Magnus was always there to talk if needed, and Kvothe appreciated him for that a great deal. It was only fitting he give something back.

As for Iri? Well, the girl was so charming, with her childlike innocence (though Kvothe was not even close to being stupid enough to think Iri stupid--her exterior might have been unassuming, but her mind, strange thought it might be, was sharp) that Kvothe couldn't help but give her something. She was such a delightful person to be around. Her response was more... emphatic than Magnus' though, to say the least. She lunged at him, and before the Rilan knew what was happening, she was on him, in a choke-hug that had him gasping for breath. "Iri... you're! Ah! Welcome! I can't... can't..." She released Kvothe, and he sucked in deep gulps of air to make up for what he'd lost to her hold. "Breathe..." Iri might not look it, but she was strong. It was a wiry sort of strength. One that was apparently very good for strangling Swords of Diligence.

Kvothe smiled warmly when Iri answered his question; a smile that was echoed in his forest green eyes when he looked at her. "That's wonderful, Iri. I'm glad that everything has been well." A bit surprised with the way activity from the Unum had been on the uptick in the months before he left, but pleased none the less. However, when his eyes flicked to Magnus, Kvothe found a different story. Magnus' look, brief though it was, was not at all lost on Kvothe. His rust-red eyebrows furrowed slightly. I see. Whatever Magnus was thinking was kept private though, at least for the time being. Perhaps he'd tell Kvothe later. But it seemed that now was not the time for whatever the Infomancer was thinking.

"Well hopefully things won't get too lively, eh? I usually end up half-dead when they do..." Kvothe shifted to settle back into his chair once again after Iri's tackle-hug. He glanced around them, through the myst and past Iri's familiars to see the area that surrounded them. The shelves of books reached out in all directions, seemingly without end. Kvothe had been on the verge of continuing on with a bit more of his travels when he was reminded of one of the reasons he came here in the first place. "Oh, Magnus, I'm going to surprise you. I'm looking for a book." He couldn't help but grin wryly; some liked to joke--often--Swords didn't read, though Kvothe read quite regularly. Still, he'd long ago learned to be easy with poking a bit of fun at himself or his reputation (as long as none of it had to do with Vorian); he had to be, with the way everyone and their mothers was always so amused by the feather-like blade that went on his head with his suit of armor. "You wouldn't happen to have Telekinetic Practices, Volume 9 in, would you? I'm looking for something in particular, and I believe it's in that book..."

[Kella]

Iri, though always well-intentioned, sometimes got in the way of giving help, rather than providing it. As it was when she offered an answer to Kvothe, her zeal cutting off the answer of the expert.

"What sort of something particular?" she said. "Is it because of something you learned while you were away? I can have Orpheus run and fetch the book, I thought I saw it earlier. It was--" her eyes skimmed the library. Her excitement flickered to confusion. "Wait, where was it?"

She looked expectantly at Orpheus. He turned a baleful gaze upon her, and simple ruffled his feathers, settling down a bit more. He squawked in such a way that sounded almost like a mutter.

"You just don't want to tell me because you're too lazy to go get it, you silly bird."

Irrisorie sighed, but her scolding was hardly serious. It really couldn't be. But somewhere within her, it existed, and it was from this realm that the mist flowed, and another voice appeared.

"Shouldn't you really let Magnus handle it, Iri?" Gnare said. He had appeared at her side, looking up at her keenly. It wasn't the sort of appearing that could be observed. He appeared within a mental blink, the sort of thing that's either there or isn't, and you never see it come or go...

Iri immediately recognized the sense that Gnare had made, and nodded quickly, turning her eyes to Maggie. In the strange predicament of Iri's mind, she couldn't have counted her interruption as wrong, but Gnare could, and it was his gentle nudge that prompted her to say, with all sincerity, "Sorry Maggie." Her eyes prompted him for his expert answer, like a child waited eagerly for a magicians trick.

Gnare looked on satisfied, but only for a moment. He noticed Fas, and Iri's eager petting. Now, Gnare most often personified the voice of reason. And, as any reasonable person knows, Canines are far superior to felines, and that is a simple matter of life. The devotion, loyalty, and spirit of a canine cannot be matched, not even by the best of felines, though some of them might be... respectable.

So, when Gnare knew Iri wasn't looking, he bared his fangs at Fas, making sure the cat knew full well who was in charge here, and to whom Iri's loyalties really belonged.

[A®heim]

Nearly every Stellar Mythic has at least one thing in common: the pursuit of knowledge; the mana of the mind and soul. From knowledge came strength, from strength one gained wisdom, and the wise man finds knowledge in the most obscure of places. The Great Library held every fruit of this circle, every drop of ambrosia its creators have scavenged for hundreds of years. However, it was well known there were some sects of the Order that didn’t read. As much. Which is to say that they only read a little more a week than most sentient beings do in a decade. Many of the more militaristic groups, the Battle Mythics, the Swords , often invested in more condensed readings from a light, portable source. Luckily for them, while most of the information in the archive was transcribed from a memory imprint, much of it consisted of electronic files Magnus was more than content with cataloguing alongside their bound brothers.

"Oh, Magnus, I'm going to surprise you. I'm looking for a book."

As much of a joke it had meant to be, it was indeed unusual for an active Sword of Diligence to ask for such a bulky volume. Magnus chuckled softly. Is that so? Blasphemy. All amusement aside, Magnus did indeed know where the series of volumes they had collected on the subject of telekinesis, but that was the problem-- he knew exactly where they were. Unfortunately,Telekinetic Practices, Volume 9 is-

Magnus was cut off as Iri burst out her affirmation that she too knew where to find them. Unsurprising. If any Mythic, besides the librarian himself, could navigate successfully navigate the library AND figure out how its contents were organized, it was Iri and her ethereal menagerie. Speaking of which, Gnare’s apparition did not go unnoticed. Magnus gave a small, intentioned bow to the wise voice of reason. Their first meeting had been somewhat…awkward, but the Rishii held no small amount of respect for the canine; his words were stiff, but sincere. If you cannot trust a voice of reason, you cannot trust yourself.

He remained silent as Gnare made his suggestion. To most anyone else, the situation may have felt somewhat embarrassing. Magnus, on the other hand (wing? talon?), found the entire thing fascinating. The subconscious awareness Iri’s remarkable telepathy granted her was astounding. Magnus caught himself wishing he could study it in more controlled conditions, but quickly admonished his curiosities for such an impersonal thought. When Iri inquired to him, Magnus answered steadily. The book you are seeking is located in sector M, row 79, green nacelle, section 2, between Terabytes and Tesseracts, behind a malfunctioning anti-personnel ray shield. I had hoped to see if that Squib could have a look at it, they say he’s good with his hands.

He barely managed to keep his expression cold and emotionless as he watched them for any reaction. Whether it came or not wouldn’t have likely mattered as his beak then slowly broke into a smile. Between soft, but hearty laughs, he tapped a spot on the rich wooden surface of desk prompting a holoscreen to leap up from an unseen projector. I of course have it so inaccessible for its contents. We can’t have Understudies wandering in and trying to weave the Mythos in methods far beyond their level of training and mental discipline. Deft claws moved across the screen in practiced motions. Magnus was trying not to remember the incident where just that had happened, and the price of the knowledge he gained that day.

He let out a deep sigh and dismissed the memory. It had been many years ago and would only serve now to distract him. Thankfully for you, however, I have since catalogued those pieces into the digital archive. He dragged several translucent squares together into one before tapping the spot on his desk again. The entire hologram save the ghostly blue box vanished, this he dragged through the air with a wave of his hand while his other pulled a blank datadisk from one of the desk drawers. Bringing the two together, cyberspace melded into realspace and the completed datadisk was then proffered to Kvothe. Use it well, young one.

[Rugs]

It was with a warm laugh and amused eyes that Kvothe looked to Iri when the girl tried to offer help in finding the book that Kvothe was looking for. Of course, she didn't know where it was--or rather, Orpheus refused to share his knowledge--and so it got him nowhere, but that was alright. Oftentimes, it was the thought that counted, right? And Iri had good intentions in spades. Kvothe didn't think it was possible to get mad at her.

Magnus knew where the volume was, of course. It was hidden away in the depths of the library... behind a shield. A malfunctioning shield. Kvothe felt his mouth slowly working as it struggled to form words for a response but none came to him. He wasn't sure if the old librarian was telling the truth or not.

It was a joke, of course. Of sorts. Magnus smiled, and with that smile, the strange tension that Kvothe felt broke away and he let out a short laugh. "I swear Magnus..." he said, shaking his head. The sentence went unfinished. The Rishii's reasoning made sense, of course. There were techniques in the Mythos that were very dangerous to those who weren't prepared. In fact, there was a story that was told to all Understudies at one point or another in their training--usually sooner rather than later--of one over-enthusiastic student that had gotten their (as it was never mentioned if the student was a boy or a girl) hands on one of the volumes that contained information on the fabled time step. It was a very dangerous technique, even to the more powerful and experienced members of the order. An Understudy attempting it was suicide, more or less. Obviously, the student studied the book, and on some fateful day, decided to attempt it. The time step was a power you did not want to fail when you tried to use it. The student failed.

That was the part of the tale where some rather horrid descriptions of what happened to those that time stepped improperly were given. Kvothe didn't know if the story was true or not, since it was solidly within the realm of possibility, but it served its purpose: it gave the clear warning to young, brash students that were some things that should not be messed with until the time was right.

Not that it stopped them for long. When Kvothe had been young, youth had had a way of convincing him--as it did nearly everyone--that death and injury were things reserved for people who were 1) old, and 2) not Kvothe.

Of course he'd been wrong, and he smiled as the memories of some of those times he'd been wrong returned. "Now Magnus, are you saying that some of the younger students couldn't handle some of the things stored away in here?" Threads of silver played through the green of his eyes; an all-too-clear signal that he was kidding, for those that knew the patterns of his eye colors and what they represented. Y'know, if they were as sharp as a brick and couldn't pick it up from his tone.

"I never did anything stup-- Okay, well there was that one time in the cafeteria when Vorian convinced me I could make some kind of cure-all out of crushed up parts of various plants around the Tower grounds and milk... Turns out it was a laxative." Kvothe grimaced. "That was a long night. But other than tha- No, there was the time I nearly broke my leg when I tried using levitation. I wasn't nearly strong enough for that back then. Well, other- no, there was the time in the courtyard and once out in the fields out near Alethia's...

"Ok," he said, flashing a grin at the librarian, "your point's taken. But I thank you." He took the datadisk that Magnus offered. "I intend on becoming very well acquainted with this over the next few days and weeks."

There was one power in particular within that volume that he was looking for: repulse. It was a powerful technique, one that Kvothe was sure he could handle, given his obvious strength in the school of telekinesis. It would just take some practice. But that would come later.

Kvothe looked between them as the datadisk was stuffed into one of his nearly-bottomless pockets. "So how's everyone else doing? Haven't seen much of the usual band of troublemakers since I've been back, save you and Iri. Cruentus still his normal grouchy self?"

[Kella]

"You're very good at getting into trouble," Iri said, with no lack of smugness in her smile. She peered at Kvothe's new wealth of information. "It's a very good read. Took me a whole two days."

Nevermatter the incredible weight and thickness of the volume. The speed at which Iri could read was something of a marvel, and bore the same enigmatic mystery as the rest of her. When she put her mind to something, her powers of retention were incredible. But only when she put her mind to something.

"The stories are the best part. My favorite was the one illustrating the effect of a practitioner's psycholanalytical paradigm on the molecular manifestation of his or her telekinesis."

She nodded almost too enthusiastically at Kvothe's question about Cruentus.

"Wulf is also doing well as usual -- I was playing fetch with him earlier this morning. He's very quick."

Another look of sheer delight twinkled in her eyes at the memory. She still pet Fas absent-mindedly, and then, timing perfect and understood only to her, she looked at Maggie expectantly, waiting for him to finish answering Kvothe's question.

[A®heim]

You are a Rilan of few blunders, master Algaterra, but none of us are perfect. Thankfully for you, most of us geisers have already forgotten the courtyard incident. He smiled knowingly, reorganizing a few knicknacks on his desk for the seventh time that day. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he felt this almost instinctual urge to do this every time he sat down, as if there was no absolute correct alignment for the fossils, or his holo displays , or his incandescent gemstones, or his aluminum foil collection.

'Twas a mystery.

Magnus moved a feather quill and its ink well three centimeters to the left and raised an eyebrow at Iri. The quill was crafted from one of the Rishii's own feathers that had molted from the fan-like tuft at the end of his tail. It worked well enough--a little morbid? Maybe--and made for an interesting intersocial paradox within the feng shui of his now severely limited desk space. She twittered on innocently about how she read a 900+ page volume in two days and how psycholanalytical paradigms were akin to a fairy tale in her obscure perception.

But was her befuddling influence to end there? Nay! She had just been playing fetch with Wulf. Of course. What else would she do with a giant, sentient wolvdrachen? Still, the mental image that was conjured from this perception into Iri's...unique thought process was very much amusing indeed. Dare I ask what you were throwing? Tennis ball? Raw steak? Yourself? Magnus wouldn't put that past the realm of possibility.

From what I've heard of jolly St. Cruentus he's still lurking about in the lower levels, avoiding direct sunglight, terrorizing small children, figuring out how to carry six more staves, and just generally hating things. He's a perfect socialogical example of how every Mythic shouldn't act, so we still keep him around for demonstrations. He finished the statement with a final adjustment to a small pile of volumes containing 3,001 hypothetical remedies for lethal hangovers and hopped down to the intricate shadoweave spider silk rug that was spread across the floor--an acquisition from a journey to Kashyyyk many years back.

He paced idly along several archives, pausing at some to absently rifle through and reorganize, his tail draped over one shoulder and the fan kept closed so as to keep it out of the way (and out of oh so tempting sight of Fas). As for the others, I don't have much to report. So many are out and away so often I hardly have the time to inquire. Not many bother to visit me in the library these days.

He smiled almost smuggly. Not that I mind.