Let's Talk Magick (Azraeth)

[Calen (DELETED 5969)]

"Hey, Phair!"

I glance up from the papers crowding my desk at the sound of my name, only to find myself staring at Alicia. I vaguely recall that her office is down the hall, back in the English department, and I have to pride myself for even knowing that. I was smart enough, by anyone's standards, but names and faces had and always would be a problem I faced. Unless this woman did something remarkable in the near future, chances are I would forget her name, too, soon enough. "What's up?" I asked, canting my head at her. As the new scholar in town, my office wasn't yet a common stop for my colleagues.

Alicia smiled a slow smile at him, and I did my best to refrain from quirking my eyebrow. There was always one...always one woman that was drawn to me like a moth to a flame. It was really too bad that none of them ever perked the same interest for me. "I was just stopping in to wish you good night. See you tomorrow, bright and early?"

She looked so genuine in her well wishes, so I force my lips into a smile and nod in her direction. I didn't have to wish her the same as she disappeared from view, her steps echoing off the hallway walls, until finally, they disappeared, too. And with the renewed silence that filled the building, I returned my focus to the papers laid out before me on the desk.

Lesson plans, multiple books, and my own notes stared back at me. They demanded my attention, and within a moment's time, I settled on finishing the lesson plans for the semester. Classes would start in another week, and the plan for the semester needed to be submitted to the Dean by tomorrow night. Starting so late hadn't helped ease my workload, and the administrators were far from allowing me an extended deadline. I couldn't blame them, not really. They had a university to run, and I was a mere single piece of the puzzle. I was expendable.

I take in a deep breath, letting it slowly through my lips. Fully acknowledging the long night ahead, I took a moment to examine my space, hoping to clear my head of all over thoughts. The wall to my right was filled my personal collection of books. They ranged in titles and subjects, from Occult to Fiction. I had practically demanded an office with shelves that would house the collection, and luckily enough for me, they had consented. The opposite wall housed shelving units, all of which contained artifacts or certain herbs and plants. The vials could be taken into question, quite honestly, but none had been raised. So far.

Despite the fact I didn't turn to look, I knew that the wall behind me housed my degrees, and various posters describing different aspects of the Occult. It was hardly my only area of interest, but if I was to teach it, then my office would be a place of knowledge. My students would learn quickly enough, that I had no interest in petty games and excuses. In truth, I wouldn't call myself a hard ***...but, if the shoes fits.

My head shook as I quietly laughed to myself. Between teaching three different classes during the day, two Occult 101 and a class specifically geared toward Satanism, I was pretty swamped with students. I had scoffed when they first presented me with Satanism, as it was often more of a joke or subject of fear to those outside the realm of occult studies. It wouldn't be taken seriously. I would have much preferred something like Thelema or Alchemy. But they had valid arguments as to its inclusion. When one heard the word "occult," Satanism was often the first they jumped to, and never in the best light. It would provide a deeper understanding to the students. In the end, I couldn't deny their logic.

And with that thought in mind, I settled in. The steaming cup of coffee tempted me, and as a reward system of sorts, I began. For each successful week planned, I got a 5 minute coffee break. Fair enough?

Fair enough.

[Azraeth]

Professor McRae had been replaced.

Azreath recalled the man’s class from his time spent in school. He and Azariel had transferred from Vancouver, because the university in Harper Rock was the only one that would offer both of them a scholarship to attend. While it was not exactly the most prestigious of schools, it had sufficed their needs, which had, at that time, entailed getting as far away from their parents together. A lifetime ago, really. Az’s studies had been geared towards an anthropology degree (which was painfully useless, as he had found out after graduation), but he had spent a lot of time with McRae, because the elderly man had fostered the same fascination for the fantastical which had essentially defined Raeth from a young age.

McRae had been failing in health for a long time, which was not surprised given how little he seemed to care about it. He was rotund in that jolly way that would have made him excellent as a dress up Santa, with round cheeks. He was often clean shaven and wore bifocals. His hearing had been going for as long as Az had known him, but after leaving the university, Raeth had not put much thought into him. Not until he’d seen the man’s obituary in the newspaper, and checked the school’s site to see that they were going to be hiring someone new to take his position.

Nostalgia was probably what made him decide to stop in.

Or maybe it was the sense that there was still some aspect of humanity that had an effect on him.

Either way, he gathered up one of his relics, an Ancient’s Pendant, so that he could carefully place it into a box designed for jewelry, soft silk sheets and cushion to make sure that the delicate pieces had something to rest against. Once placed in the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he was on his way. He did not even have a fully formed plan in his mind as to what he wanted to do. He just knew that he needed to meet the man that had replaced someone he considered to be a friend. He had even done a little bit of research, and found a few scholarly essays by Mr. Phair. He had, of course, read them and determined that, at the very least, the man knew what he was talking about.

He traveled by way of night and shadow, hidden from the sight of onlookers, because he honestly did not want to have to account for why he was there in the early evening, when the sun was just going down. He was dressed more as one might have expected a professor, but his physical age was clearly more that of a student. His very appearance created this cognitive dissonance that he did not want to see in the eyes of some on duty patrol guard, so it seemed more advantageous to just avoid it altogether.

The halls were exactly as he remembered. The offices. Nothing had really changed in three years, nothing but him.

He appeared just outside of Phair’s door so that when he stepped through, with a knock on the frame, he was fully in focus. “Good evening.” He said by way of introduction. Normally when he went into public, he was very careful to mask his eyes, those slitted pupils and pools of starburst blue. They were a deep ocean, and they were not at all human. He figured the other man would just dismiss them as some kind of contact though. “I’m here for a consultation, do you have a little bit of time?” He asked, getting straight to the point, hesitant smile tugging at his features.

[Calen (DELETED 5969)]

The sun shone in through my window, casting an annoyance of a glare on my computer screen. The syllabus I had been creating for the first day was nearly finished, only the final exam and oral presentations left to be added. Except, the glare made it impossible for me to focus and I scowled at the screen, as if it was fault for the sun. Accepting this, I whipped around in my chair. Obviously, I had no curtains or blinds, leaving me to add it to a mental list. With long nights promised throughout the year, they would be a necessity.

Deciding to let the sun sink lower in the sky before continuing, I stood from the chair to stretch my legs. I had been sitting for quite some time and my body cracked in every which direction I turned. I let out a satisfied sigh, tilting my head to each side. Content with being properly loosened, I reached for my cup of coffee. It was cold, but I could hardly bring myself to care. If I had the inclination, I could walk down to the lounge to warm it, but I didn't. Laziness, at it's finest. It was gift.

I carried myself in a circle around the room twice before I admitted defeat and returned to my desk. Without sitting, I set the mug down, scanning over hand-written outline of topics to cover for Satanism, as I still had yet to create the syllabus for it. My gaze narrowed, weighing options. 4 Exams, including a final, or Essays without a final? If college students hadn't changed since my own time, they would go nuts over having no final. Question was, did I really want to be that nice?

The sudden voice startled me from my thoughts, my focus zeroing in on the male standing in my doorway. I ran my hand through my hair as I attempted to settle my racing heart, taking a moment to fully process his request. "I am quite busy, to be honest with you, but...I suppose a break never hurt, yes? Come on in," I finally replied, stepping out from behind my desk, hands stuffed in my pockets. I nodded in the male's direction, leaning back against the front face of the desk, "I don't suppose you are a student?"

No student ever possessed such a professional attire unless they were required for some ungodly reason. Hospitality, maybe. But, if there were the case, no way in hell would a student of Hospitality be standing in my office. Not only that, but rarely did students come for a "consultation" of any sort, and I suspected the majority of them had no reason to have one with me, of all professors at the institution. If they did, I would have reason to wonder how the hell they came across anything I could aid them with.

I gesture to one of the chair, allowing the male an option to sit if he chose to. I remain silent instead of inquiring as to his visit, letting him control the conversation and tell me without a cue. If he stared at me like a deer in headlights, perhaps I will be more straightforward. However, I was rather tired, and I didn't feel like being a professor, at the moment.

[Azraeth]

The other man seemed young to be a professor of something so esoteric as the occult, but then Azraeth was hardly in a position to judge what may or may not have been odd. As such, the brief surprise at the sight of the other man did not even register on his features. He had perfected that skill years before when learning about vampirism, about the culture that surrounded it. To be any good at being one of the unliving, one needed to have a good poker face it seemed. He watched as fingers ran through hair and he wondered if that was some sort of nervous tick. Had Azraeth startled the other man out of his studies? He could almost hear it in the beating of his heart, that moving vessel of life that set the two of them immediately apart.

All casual observations, facts that he had no intention of doing anything with, nor putting into any sort of pattern.

“Thank you.” He said as he slid into the room, his fingertips brushing over the wood grain of the door so that he could nudge it shut behind him. It had not been requested, but Raeth preferred to have his privacy, especially when he was handling something that might have been construed as supernatural. The last thing he needed to deal with were secrecy violations against him. He had only recently returned from that place of shadows, the cruel mockery of a the waking world, and it was difficult enough with the gaps in his memory without trying to earn himself a trip right back. He dropped to sit across from the professor, one leg crossing over the other so that his fingers could weave together and rest over the cap of one knee.

“No, no I’m not, at least not anymore. You can call me Azraeth.” It was a unique name, and it occurred to him that the university probably had his face on file at least on official documentation. Identification and all. He had never been a terribly social creature in those days. Hadn’t been part of a fraternity. Hadn’t bothered with club or anything of that nature. He very much doubted there were candid shots of him lying about, but he made a note to himself to get in contact with Nikolae, who was as he understood it, a master hacker. If anyone could remove or corrupt those files so as to cover up the body swap, it was him.

“I was a student a few years ago, a friend of Dr. McRae. Unfortunately, I think I was one of the very few who took his class seriously, and not because I thought it would make for an easy ‘A’." A lot of college students did that. They added filler electives to their schedule to bump up their overall GPA and complete their degrees with less effort. “Anyway, those of us with legitimate interest in your field of teaching and study are few and far between, so I thought it would be appropriate to meet with you, perhaps ask your advice on a piece I recently picked up.” Which was somewhat true. He also wanted to, in the city of vampires, gauge just how much the man might know about his kind.

[Calen (DELETED 5969)]

The closed door hardly bothered me. To my thinking, no one would really want their business openly available to eavesdrop on when it came to things supernatural. It would be cause for judgment or alarm, neither of which I felt up to dealing with, either. I received enough of that in my life to last me a lifetime, quite frankly. So, I let the male get comfortable and speak as he wished. Though he had come to me for help, it did not mean I had to act like a superior pig. Much like my own superiors seemed to do.

I had to maintain a face of vague disinterest as he told me his name, though it was far from the realm of common. Still, I suppose I liked the uniqueness of it, positive it was one that I would remember. For once. "Though I am sure you know this, I'm Calen. Pleasure, I'm sure," I replied, bowing my head in a sort of acknowledgement. The fact he was not a student meant that I did not have to treat him as once, and a weight instantly lifted my shoulders. I did not have to remain some potential role model, and could instead speak nothing but truth and logic. My lips twitched into the smallest of grins.

McRae was the professor I replaced, his passing having rocking a small part of HRU's community. When I came into the position, a few of his closer colleagues offered me luck in fulfilling his shoes. Not the most reassuring of greetings, but a challenge I was willing to accept. "I am sorry for your loss, then. I have heard he was good man," I offer in way of condolences, knowing little of him other than what I had been told in the passing weeks.

It took a lot to throw me, really. I was generally good about keeping my level of surprise to a minimal, but this situation seemed to halt my tracks. A former student was the last person I would expect to arrive here to scope me out, and then test my knowledge with a piece. I was confident the the man had no intentions of being callous, but it so happened that the very request seemed a challenge of his own. Regardless of his motive, I had to agree that very few did take an interest in my line of work, and should he be one those that did, I owed him that respect.

"I can offer whatever help or knowledge I know, if that is what you would like?" I asked, bringing my hands from my pockets to cross them over my chest. "It has been some time since I have gotten to truly inspect a piece with significant, I could use the challenge."

Truth be told, I hadn't gotten to do any serious research since my arrival to the city. My focus was purely academic as I moved to get things in order for the semester, leaving my time open for little other than sleeping and eating. Some days, I forgot to do even that. The mere offer Azraeth had made my blood pulse with excitement, and suspense. Oh, how I hoped this wasn't a fluke.

[Azraeth]

Azraeth actually had not been familiar with the other man’s given name, a quirk of the vampire. He assumed formality until given cues that insisted otherwise - in fact he only ever used his own first name out of habit. Calen, of Scottish origin, meaning ‘victory of the people’. It was unusual in this part of the world and he found himself searching for hints of an accent, as if to place the other man. Az had many interests, most chiefly anthropology, history, magic, and language. They all went hand in hand in their own way, because one could not understand the choices made by historical figures without really grasping their culture. Language and communication were inherent parts of those two things, necessary for social evolution. And magic. Well every people had some tradition of the supernatural or the unknown.

“Of course.” He replied, before leaning in his seat, his arm extended, hand offered for the other to take in greeting.

It was over before the subject turned to McRae. “He was. It is a rare man who can completely shift your perspective on the world.” He left it at that though. He had not been McRae’s family, and though he might have called the man a friend; he had hardly been a close one. To take the condolences would have been strange for Az, and out of place. So he brushed over them, hoping that it would be taken for his being prickly. That certainly wasn’t the case, and for him to have shown up at all likely spoke of some connection to Calen. He could not fault the man for making the assumption there was something to be sorry over.

But it was true. McRae had been a good man, or at least a patient one. His head had been in the clouds at times, but he was not one of those blustery professors that was difficult to follow. On the contrary, he had the power to drag people with him through history, and frame his lesson in such a way that it was very easy to understand the context the occult played at the time, and why it was relevant to a particular people.

“I know very little about it outside of it having belonged to some sort of order at one point or another.” He began as a hand reached into his jacket so that he could remove the box he’d stashed there and then lean once more to place it on a desk, using a lone digit to push it towards Calen. Unfortunately, there was not much to go on as far as evidence went when it came to the pendant. The thing as actually fairly plain; it just looked like an antique. But anyone with even the tiniest spark of metaphysical ability likely could have felt that there was something special, unique about it. Maybe that was the test. Az worked largely on instinct despite how well put together he seemed most of the time.

Most people rarely realized that he most often acted entirely based on his gut instincts. Omens. Second-sight. The magic that touched him was one that was chaotic. He offered a faint smile once more before relaxing into his seat, his eyes glued to Calen as if to scrutinize how he might handle the relic. "What do you think?"

[Calen (DELETED 5969)]

I took the man's hand in my own, offering my practiced firm shake. MY father had always insisted I develop a good handshake, as that would get me places that my mind never could. Whatever that happened to mean. As much as I tended to disagree, I had kept up with his word. Quite a few times I had heard the mention of what a nice, firm handshake I offered, but it held little meaning. I would much rather be complimented for my personality or intelligence, than an act of greeting.

His words on McRae only added my arsenal of information about the man I was replacing, and left a little note of a challenge. Whether he meant for that to be the case or not didn't matter. I felt the need to prove myself as one that could handle this position, and share the same interests and stories with my students that could make them consider their beliefs, and imagine the possibilities when something seemingly made no sense. It was an ambitious goal, I wasn't so ignorant as to assume it would be easy to earn that respect. At the very least, I never went down without a fight.

The box Azraeth offered me was incredible plain, and I had to assume that whatever was inside did not come from it. In fact, the box alone would suggest something of value, but perhaps store bought. Like jewelry or collectors coins. Not to say that a coin could not hold some connections to the occult, it was just far more unlikely. With a steady hand, a pushed open the lid to reveal the artifact inside, canting my head in wonder. There was little about it to suggest anything supernatural, but if that were the case, he would not be bringing it to me. Something about it made this male feel it was much more.

I brought the artifact, still in the box, toward for my face for closer inspection, searching out any possible symbols or design patterns that could suggest a time or place of origins. "May I...?" I asked, peering around the box to Azraeth. It was his, and I would not put my paws all over it without his permission first. I suppose that is why I could never make it as a thief, or a graverobber. I happened to be very bad at it.

I took another look, twisting the box this way and that before placing it on the desk for a moment. "You mentioned it belonged to an...order, did you say? Would you happen to know a possible time frame for it? Many orders and factions have come and gone over the years. And this..." I gestured to the relic, "Appears to be quite old, indeed."

With a push away from the desk, I make my way toward the bookshelves, searching out titles that could be of some use to us as we discussed the pendant. "Might I ask how you came across it? Maybe that could provide a clue, in itself." More often than not, someone stumbled upon these sort of things by mistake, with no obvious clue on what they were in possession of. I had my fair share of artifacts pawned off of collectors, who merely felt the object was pretty and suited their expensive tastes...that had nothing to do with true appreciation for its creation and meaning.

I paused by my collection of dictionaries on mythological folklore and symbolism, pondering its relevance to the current discussion. If I could find a symbol, anyway...

[Azraeth]

“Of course.” He hadn’t brought the pendant with the intention of flashing it in the other man’s face without letting him properly inspect it. Something told Az that the thing was nearly indestructible anyway, much as it might not have seemed that way. And, of course, there was no way that Mr. Phair could have known that. He watched carefully though, as the other man’s eyes dropped to the object and he began to manipulate it; Raeth searched for some sort of familiarity, or a spark of interest. Was there more to the professor than met the eye? He had not batted a lash at unique nature of the vampire’s own pupils and cornea. Maybe he just wasn’t a judgmental creature.

He relaxed when he realized that his new companion had likely not seen something like it before. There was always that brief paranoia when dealing with humans, that worry that they were killers of his kind. He had, had too many run ins with scientists, paladins, and hunters not to be instinctively wary. If avoiding them entirely had been an option, he would gladly have taken it. Unfortunately, that was not how the world worked.

“No, sadly. I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that for me. I know very little about its origins other than that I have seen similar things in texts and thought it curious enough to take a look at.” That was perhaps a failing on his own part. He’d never been too inclined to learn more about the Order of St. James or really anything about paladins other than the best ways to make sure not to run into them, and their weak points. Curious for him, given his normally inquisitive nature. Maybe he just didn’t fancy the idea of learning more about people who made a habit out of shooting at him or his childer.

“I inherited it from a relative.” That was an outright lie, not that Calen would have known that. In truth, Az had pried the thing out of the dead and cooling fingers of an ancient sorcerer. The pair of them had matched magic to magic, and Raeth’s had been superior that day. It had been something of an endurance challenge. The mystic had been forced to cut his way through floor after floor of footsoldiers, elders and others. That object, the one that the professor was holding, had a history that was so tainted by blood that it was impossible to separate the two. There were spirits that still clung to it.

If one were particularly ‘sensitive’ they might have picked up on the echoing calls of the souls lost to it, the centuries of history wrapped up in something that looked so…simple. Az did not mind those, but that was because he was constantly steeped in the mystical. The Shadow Realm, largely regarded as a fearsome place, was one that Raeth went to regularly so that he could clear his mind in its pure darkness and give himself over to meditation. There was more that was otherworldly to the vampire than just his eyes.

[Calen (DELETED 5969)]

I paused in my searching of the shelves to peer over my shoulder at the male as he commented on his general lack of knowledge on the artifact. In a sense, I could have expected less, otherwise he would likely not be here. If one had the knowledge, what use would they have in coming to someone else? Though it was a bit disappointing to have so little to go on, the male did provide me with a tidbit of information, sending me down the rows of books. I stopped at a shelf of rather ancient looking texts, all the bindings fairly loose as they held the leather covers in place. One long finger skimmed over the bindings before coming to a stop on one in particular.

The book is thick and heavy as I bring it back to my desk, and I shuffle papers about to make room. With a thud, I lower it to the surface and begin to flip carefully through the pages. All of them were filled with words of the forgotten language, pictures popping up every once in a while, but they were fairly rare. As a picture is exactly what I was looking for, it was fairly easy to skip over any that did not hold my desired image. As soon as I found what I was looking for, I flipped the book around and slid it in the male's direction.

"Does that pendant look familiar to you? I asked, sliding a glove onto my hand before I reach to remove the pendant from the box. As I let him inspect the picture, I go about getting a closer look at the relic. Part of me was quite sure there had be something that marked it as a significant part of an order. Or, if I suspected right, there might be nothing more than an unnatural aura. I had yet to mention it to Azraeth, though I was quite sure that he would have felt it, too.

Pulling the relic away from my face, I glanced down at the male on the page, once more. "He was an Italian priest. He was found drained of all blood in front of the alter in his church. I believe...that is your pendant around his neck."[/v] I tap at the image, particularly at the pendant the priest was wearing. "It was taken off his body,"

With a small sigh, I place the pendant back in its box, letting my gaze rest on the male as he scanned over the page. The Latin explained the priest's life and the theories behind his death and what possible causes or people might have had a reason to kill him. There had never been a definite close to the case, but speculations involved the use of rituals and dark intent.

[Azraeth]

As he sat there, watching the other man carefully without making it explicitly clear that he was observing both body language and minute facial changes, it occurred to Az that his answer, on one level or another, had been answered. The new Occult professor was not a member of the Order of St. James, and very likely not a hunter or anything of that nature. It was dangerous in a city full of the damned not to be exceptionally careful. That being said, he had not actually expected for the man to come up with much of any information at all. A brow lifted in question when Calen returned with a book, and settled it in front of the vampire.

He read over the page quickly, absorbing the information as he tended to do when nearly any was presented to him. It was more than he’d known before, and yet it was a dangerous path he walked down. He was at something of a crossroads. He could either continue to research with Calen and chance the other man stumbling on information that might be dangerous to know, or he could walk away. He placed his hand on the page for a moment and inhaled. The scent of age and leather, old ink and long-lived pages made him smile irrationally before he was standing. “Thank you for that, Mr. Phair. I normally would love to stick around, but I am needed back at the Dragomir Temple. I think it might be best for me to continue my research on my own, but your knowledge on the topic has been invaluable.”

He then gathered up the box containing his relic, making sure that it was shut and stuffed carefully into his suit jacket before he turned towards the door. He was about to leave as abruptly has he had come when something nagged at him, pulling at his gut. He half turned to glance back to the professor. “As I understand it, the Temple is something of a hot spot for someone in your field, with the history, the supposed haunting. Maybe it’s a bit too fringe for you, but perhaps you’d like to come with me. My family owns it.” Which was technically true. It belonged to Nikolae, but the building itself was old, and had a long history in Harper Rock. It was built after the Gothic tradition, and was like Canada’s very own Notre Dame.

He waited there a moment to see if the man would stay or go, and then he slipped through the door.