Training: Dance Monkey [Eitan, Florian, Brenner]

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Searing 85, 121

Stefan Dornkirk arrived at the training building used for the darker arts with a good deal of trepidation. He wasn't afraid. Well, he was afraid, but it was distaste and a feeling of being tainted, made dirty by his proximity to those who chose to use their souls as a filter for the sludge of magic to pass through.

He respected the men and women who made the sacrifice for the State, truly, he did. He respected the men who worked to keep the sewers running too, it didn't mean he wanted to have tea and conversation with them.

Taking a deep breath and glancing a final time over at his brother, he stepped forward and pushed open the large doors. They were ominously large and thick, banded with steel, as though made to keep something out, or (he suppressed a shiver down his spine) lock something in. Once through the portal, the building was surprisingly like the ones he'd spent time in sparing and training as a boy and then in the Academy. Rooms laid out in an orderly manner, labeled and numbered, with a clerk's desk near the front.

Stepping up to this he inquired with the young man sitting behind it, he was blond and looked so clean and starched that it made Stefan's skin want to itch.

"I am looking for training room F." It was a statement that expected an answer. The young man raised his eyebrows at the pair before him but dutifully ran his finger down his ledger before saying,

"Ah." When nothing more was immediately forthcoming Stefan frowned, which caused the bland smile the man had been wearing to wither and more words to pop out of him. "Ah, uhm, yes. You must be Lord Dornkirk and..." He glanced back down at the ledger, "Oh, Commander Dornkirk. Any relation?" He said it with a little chuckle, so very pleased with himself for his timely jest.

Stefan did not hit him. The clerk choked at the look that must have accompanied this act of supreme indulgence and managed to point down one side of the labeled doors,

"Right down that way, it's labeled F... Uhm, of course, yes. I believe Commander Angevin is already waiting with his... that is...a Private."

Stefan had walked away before the stumble over the Lysanrin had tripped up the clerk's brain, the sharp clip of Brenner's boots against the tiled floor just behind him put a satisfying end to the conversation.

The door, when they arrived, looked ordinary enough, and it helped that he could indeed hear familiar voices on the other side. It wasn't locked, though it felt as it it should be. When he entered he found... nothing. Well, four walls, a floor, and a high ceiling but the room was empty except for the two men already inside. Giving the walls a once over he saw what looked to be intentional marks, perhaps to measure distance or... aim. To add to this idea there were several places where scorch marks had been diligently scrubbed at but not quite gotten off. Swallowing to ensure his thoughts did not affect his voice he turned to face Eitan and Florian,

"Angevin, Albretch, good to see you both. I hope we did not keep you waiting long?" They were, in fact, exactly on time. Stefan tended to arrive early but there had been Brenner, lost in one of the admittedly excellent tombs he'd pulled out of nowhere, who had to be found and reminded of the appointment. "Well, shall we get started?"

Nothing in any of the many types of training and study he'd gone through had informed him of what, exactly, runebearers did in these training rooms. That was why he was there, one of the reasons, anyway. Opening the small case he'd carried in under his arm he pulled out a pair of large spectacles, handing another pair to Brenner and offering a third to Eitan, unsure if he had his own already or not.

"If you could just show me what you usually do I can form questions and requests from there, if that's alright?" The last was decidedly directed to Eitan.

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin had made sure that he and his underling arrived precisely fifteen minutes prior to their engagement with the Brothers Dornkirk. It had always been necessary to hold himself to the strictest of disciplines; how else could he make up for the failure of his blood? And how else could he please his father than to be even harder on himself than the old man was? But all of that was largely sublimated; he was excelling in all things as an Angevin ought to. If he feared his Dratori berserker heritage, he at least had ways to defuse an impending explosion if he caught the signs early enough. He couldn't remember the last time he had blown up. It must have been back at the battle academia. By the time he was inducted into the Air Defense Corps, the stakes were too high for such childishness.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

Then again, he and Albrecht were waiting for his childhood friend and that friend's elder brother, who was fast becoming an adult friend. Some things, at least, one could bring forward from childhood into adulthood, maturing as did those people involved.

He kept an eye on Albrecht, knowing he would push back a bit at the idea of being on display, but he had frequently reminded him that his pride would get in the way of his assimilation. For now, at least, the Lysanrin was keeping his cool. And he knew Brenner would keep things on track; Stefan might not have quite the military precision to his life, but his younger brother would mind him. For matters of import and the theater, his grandmother had always said, if you were on time, you were already late. This begged the question of why she was always fashionably late to social events. In any case, the Dornkirks were on time and Angevin smiled and greeted them warmly.

"Boys," he said, then fished a monocle out of his pocket and held it out to Stefan. "I'm afraid I only have the one aura glass, so you'll have to share." Neither of them likely had the context to know what they would see through the thing, but he could answer questions about what they saw and it would still help them form a fuller understanding of what magic actually was.

Once they were settled in to watch, he would put Albrecht through his paces. He would put himself through his own paces, as well, as they needed to see what he was capable of, though there was a strage jangle of nerves about that. He was certain they would never be quite so free and easy around him again. It was one thing to be aware of the dark mark on his soul; it was quite another one to fully understand its import.

[Florian]

Florian could not find a way to rest his hands. He flexed his fingers, he cracked his knuckles, he ran a hand through his hair and scratched around the base of his good horn. It wasn't anxiety, per se. Brenner and Stefan had both acknowledged him at the debut, and so it seemed that Eitan's task of selling his presence had paid off, somewhat. Maybe it was suspicion. Stefan had mentioned the two fo them being interested in rare biological specimens, but he hadn't made the connection that such a category might include him. It wasn't very common that a Lysanrin dared their life and livelihood to utilize their magic, and here he was, one that was vetted by both Order and Corps and leashed to a Watcher of Purity on top of it all. It had been one thing to show his own mother what he did and what he could do, but it was another entirely to be shown off at the request of Zaichaeri elite.

He bristled at the fact, and to avoid the inevitability of his moods being shared, he welcomed the silver in his eyes. As Eitan was growing more knowledgable about the colors he flashed, he was in turn finding more solace in the unreadability that his use of his aether sight awarded. Not that he didn't think it important for Eitan to know what he was feeling, but he wished privacy, too. He would have to use this for the — for whatever Stefan had planned to see in this little experiment, anyway.

With his shift in eye color, the room was awash in the vibrancy of aether. The walls were warded and glowed with the magic, and the smell of a veritable bouquet of flowers filled the room. Florian was smart enough to realize that was specific to him, however. The brothers arrived very shortly after, and Florian was still not sure how to address them properly. Considering how they were here to observe him like a trained animal, he hoped they wouldn't take offense to his silent nod in their direction. Little emotion could be seen in his eyes, though, as both iris and pupil had been replaced with the reflective silver.

They then began to take out their odd glasses, and Florian could take a good guess as to their purpose. He found it funny, and maybe a bit ironic, that the humans in this city thought themselves superior and still needed outside assistance to do something so basic that any Lysanrin could learn with a small bit of practice. Yet here he was, able to see the aether unaided, while men who supposed themselves better than him fiddled with lenses that would give them a fraction of the sensations he was able to experience to understand the magic of the world around him. Now he just had to wait for Eitan to create a ward — or wards — for him to siphon. Aware that it was in some ways a show, he even rolled up his sleeves. His skinny forearms were scarred, nothing special, but he knew that once he had begun to manipulate the foreign aether, his veins would become just as reflective as his eyes. What effect that had on his body he didn't actually know, but he thought it both funny and grotesque enough to necessitate sharing.

"Shall we begin, then?" The question was directed at everyone as he tugged at his rolled-up sleeve. Now he was nervous.

[Brenner Dornkirk]

Brenner regarded the blonde receptionist with a blank stare in answer to his intended jape. After a few blinks of his slightly narrowed eyes, the fellow directed them toward their destination and the Air Commander nodded. For this occasion, Brenner saw fit to wear a ZADC service uniform. If he was going to be put in the presence of mages, he felt it meet to broadcast his position as an officer of the State and a keeper of its laws.

In point of fact, Brenner had been in the presence of sorcery more in the past few months than he ever had in his entire life. Of course he'd seen it in fits and starts over the years and had even stood athwart its use on quite a few occasions, but it was starting to approach feeling commonplace lately. First, of course, was Glade the 8th, but since then he'd witnessed several instances of Talon and his cohorts abusing the arcane arts. He'd also been violated twice- Once presumably having been Mesmerised into standing down when the pidge prince's puppy was nabbed right out from under him, and more recently he'd been paralysed by the witchcraft of Venetia Childs herself. Since then he'd been afflicted with recurring nightmares wherein magic and its abuses were prevalent themes.

He wore a scowl as he marched into Training Room F behind Stefan, and nodded to Eitan first.

"Commander." Then to Albrecht. "Albrecht." He repeated the nod, to the Lysanrin and accepted the spectacles offered by Stefan, mouthing a 'thank you' as he put them on.

"Please." Brenner replied to Florian's question as he pulled up a chair and took a seat, crossing his legs. "Proceed." He folded his hands on his lap and sat back, curiously eyeing the mage and his pet.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan nodded politely as he was greeted but held a hand up when he was offered the aether glass, placing the spectacles, made specifically for him over his eyes.

They were one of the very first things he had requisitioned when the secret approval for their mission had come through. Practicing with them had been an activity for private moments in his laboratory at the manor, but he'd done so as often as possible. The small creatures of magical nature that he had also obtained to aid in his study had been necessary sacrifices to the cause and he held no guilt over them any more than he did over Eitan putting Private Albrecht through his paces liked an animal trained to entertain spectators.

His feelings about it were the same as they had been on the many occasions his father had demanded he show off his own aptitude in any number of skills through his childhood and adolescence. One proved one's usefulness in whatever way those above one demanded and hoped it was enough to prove one worthy.

Albrecht seemed to recognize that he was expected to perform and showed some nerves. Stefan felt a great deal of sympathy for the feeling, he'd never been comfortable when called to show off his abilities for the people his father wished to impress, but needs must, and, at the moment, need required that Stefan learn all he could of magic siphoning and that Albrecht give him the chance to do so.

Due to his studies, his mind had begun to form an understanding of what he saw through the glasses. It wasn't an exact science, or, of course, it was, but he hadn't gotten to the point of being able to analyze it to the exacting standards of his scientific studies as yet. Once they had set off he intended to spend time with the Private every day, as well as studying whatever relatively harmless magical creatures they encountered along the journey to better acclimate his mind to understanding what the glasses enabled him to see.

Once the Lysanrin had started the normally quiet and background man that Stefan prefered to be in public began to fall away in fractions. His head tilted at odd angles and he walked around, careful to keep out of the line of fire, so to speak, but eager to observe from as many vantages as possible. Eventually relaxing to the point that he would stop Albrecht and require him to repeat something, or explain in words what he'd done. He apologized to Eitan the first few times he did this, bowing to his rank and right to command the Private until he was given permission to proceed as he required.

His questions showed a working knowledge of the mechanics of the innate ability of the dread race but from an obviously studious point of view. That is to say, he had read a good deal and encounter not at all. Taking out a notebook from his coat pocket, he began scrawling quickly over the pages with a small pencil kept for the purpose, murmuring 'fascinating or similar exclamations under his breath.

At one point he looked up and said, to no one in particular,
"Does this not remind you of the paper Dr. Warner released on in transference of energy?" When he was responded to with only blank expressions he lowered his eyes to his paper briefly.

When the Private's solo demonstration had finished he made a final notation and then turned to Eitan.

"It would be extremely helpful if you could form shields and let him drain them, would that be acceptable?" The sentence had a sincerely apologetic tone to it, as though he were asking his friend to do something painful or decidedly unpleasant.

[Eitan Angevin]

On the one hand, Angevin was glad that the Dornkirks had aura glass spectacles of their own; on the other hand, he was a little jealous. Vigilant Richter made it clear he had been afforded a monocle because it would blend in more with his blueblooded persona. He didn't think it was a persona so much as who he was, and while it had grown on him, it wasn't truly his style. But he would make do with what he had, and he was used to it by now. He also had his spyglass, which would be helpful from the air on their splendid stealth ship. It might also be more helpful in the vasty depths of the Warrens, as it would magnify as well as add another spectrum to the optical information.

Albrecht couldn't do much that they would be able to see on his own. But once Brenner and Stefan were situated and Albrecht did what he was going to do, he made eye contact with the private and nodded.

Of course, he didn't know any Dr. Warner; he hoped it wasn't a reference he should have remembered from the reading Stefan had assigned.

But before he began, he fumbled a bit, turning to his friends. "I'm... sorry you have to see this..."

Of course, they both knew he was marked by a rune, and that he was half-Dratori by birth. Most of the time, they treated him as a comrade, an equal, even like a third brother. But it killed him when their perfectly justified prejudices reared up to judge him. He judged himself quite enough already, and worked trebly hard to be as good as any pure-blooded, clean-souled human.

The moment passed quickly, and he shrugged it off with a smile.

"All right, a simple ward, then."

But it wasn't simple. Angevin's go-to wards for presentations were spherical. Three-dimensional wards were more complicated than two-dimensional wards and required more power. He tended to make them small, though, and not powerful. They were hardier than a soap bubble, but not by much. In any case, it was enough for the Dornkirk boys to get an idea of what he and Albrecht could do working in tandem.

[Florian]

Florian could not do much of any magic on his own without hurting himself. In exchange for the ability to take the aether of other magics, his own body rebelled against the prospect of using its own. He knew as well that he could not take any other Runes of magic for this fact, and from what he had learned before, it seemed a constant among Lysanrin. Only the magical aether of others could be safely used, but taking that aether was toxic in and of itself. He couldn't hold onto it forever, either, and for his own safety he tended towards using it all as quickly as possible.

It was when Eitan made his ward that he could actually do something. He had experience enough with Eitan's bubble-shaped wards, and he could see it clear as day. Unlike a bubble, however, it didn't pop when Florian touched it. The aether slipped from the ward and through his fingers, and as it flowed, his veins changed into their new silvery color. Even the small amount that this shield awarded him was enough to make him feel all the more powerful, but he didn't make a move to use it until Eitan began his task of creating a second ward. Where Eitan hated his magic, Florian loved it. Magic helped ease some of the helplessness he had grown used to as a child — even if he couldn't usually use it to protect himself around people, its use against abominations in the Warrens was evident enough.

For Stefan's sake, he turned to him with silvered eyes and hand to offer context. "With the aether taken from the ward, I can metabolize it, and stave off the need for food, water, and rest, or I can release it in a series of static shocks. Or," He looked back at Eitan. "More usually, I use the magic to siphon his temporary wards and recycle the aether into upkeeping the wards on the airship. If I use my own aether for any of this, I risk injuring myself."

[Brenner Dornkirk]

"Remarkable..." Brenner exasperated, at the sight before him. He lowered his spectacles to glance over their rims with his naked eye to see what he could glean, before drawing them back up and taking in the far more striking sight afforded by the aura glass.

"Truly." It was striking enough that Brenner's awe superseded his disgust. It was actually rather beautiful to behold, he thought, as he regarded the shifting energies. Albrecht appeared rather resplendent, having consumed the errant aether, and the Air Commander viewed the Lysanrin through an altogether novel lens- both literally and figuratively. When the young ensign spoke, Brenner lowered the glasses once more to regard the more mundane version of the speaker.

"'Static shocks,' you say?" Brenner cocked an eyebrow, "Can you elaborate a bit upon that? I'm assuming they represent something that can be weaponised, if need be?" Eitan had explained something of this process before they'd set up a time to observe it in action, but he hadn't wrapped his head altogether around it as yet.

"Interesting. So you are technically capable of manipulating your own aether, but to do so causes you harm?" On that note, Brenner reached down to untuck a small notepad and pen from his trousers. He leafed through to the first empty page, and began taking notes in a cipher he'd devised with Stefan. The root of the cipher was Kathalan, but the byzantine symbiology they utilised would never have let that on to the casual reader.

"And how would those 'injuries' present themselves were you to hazard such an endeavour?" Brenner wondered aloud, even as he scribbled his observations on the stunning visuals to which he'd been treated by the spectacles Stefan had commissioned. Although his questions had all been in response to Florian, the Air Commander seemed to half-directed them to Eitan rather than the siphoner himself.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Watching the circular shield form was remarkable, as Brenner exclaimed it to be. Stefan continued to move around, observing the shield from multiple angles, trying to remember where he'd seen a structure like it before. Shaking off the recognition he couldn't break his eyes away as the diminutive Lysanrin employed the terrifying talent of his race to pull the aether directly from the structure Eitan had wrought.

The slim hand reached out with an almost caressing touch to the human's eyes and the magic fled into the slim body directly. Lines of silver appeared across Albrecht's skin that at once made Stefan feel deeply nauseated and entirely fascinated. It was the idea of having raw magic flow into his body that sickened him, as awful as the feeling was it was quickly overwhelmed by his desire to know.

When silvery eyes turned on him he did not flinch from their gaze, only looking away to begin making notes in his little book again, marking down what was being said.

"You have no need to eat? For how long? Does the magic get..." He hesitated as his mind tried to come up with terms, "Used up? When you sustain yourself with it? What about breathing?"

The questions were not rapid-fire, he was too interested in the answers to cut them off, but they were spoken with an authority that expected to be answered. Not as one might command an animal, but more as a manager might expect his employees to answer him. He nodded along when Brenner asked a question of his own, adding,

"Static shocks like when you walk in stocking-feet across a rug in Frost, or more like lightning?" He grinned briefly when his brother pulled out a notepad of his own and began applying his own sharp mind to the task of information gathering. When the questions as to the destructive release of aether had been answered Stefan's eyes returned to the second shield Eitan had wrought he split his questions between the two Noble Gambit denizens.

"Can you show me the strengthening of wards?" Then to Eitan,

"Does he send the aether back into you and then you strengthen the wards, or does it happen more directly?"

He watched and listened to anything he was told or shown with alert attentiveness, trying not to interrupt.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan was marginally relieved that the brothers Dornkirk ignored his apology and seemed more interested in the show than in how his part in it made him lesser. Other Reconciliators revelled in their power; Eitan remained true to the spirit of the Brass City and saw it only as a necessary evil. As they both seemed interested in the static discharges, he made another decision to suffer for his city-state.

"Albrecht, come. Step away and release the discharge on me. Gentlemen, please stand back."

He knew Albrecht only had so much control over the discharges, though he hoped to hone his control as they grew more accustomed to working together. Albrecht's survival depended upon his ability to make his talents more useful to Zaichaer than dangerous. And he wanted Albrecht to survive. It was a strange partnership, but of the Lysanrin, Albrecht was one of the good ones, and his service ought to pave the way for other good Lysanrin to make themselves useful parts of the High City.

"Discharge first, and then I'll feed you a bit more to pour into another ward."

When they were at the far side of the room, he spread his stance a bit and gritted his teeth so he wouldn't accidentally bite off his tongue when he was struck by veritable lightning. He hoped the Lysanrin enjoyed his bit of suffering. It wouldn't be his first time taking a Lysanrin attack in the teeth, and when it was done, he would make two separate ward bubbles: one to consume; one to enhance. The brothers could make of it what they would. Most likely, Brenner would come to see some of the strategic advantages he himself had come to recognize, and Stefan might suss out the logic behind the Lysanrin curse that had raised them up but also laid them low.

"I'm ready, Albrecht."