Post by Nomz on Nov 21, 2024 2:15:35 GMT
His head tips slowly as he watches the ash disappear. He can see- feel- understand that the Oblivion is eating it up to reuse, but he can't track for what. Why would this place need so much of anything it can get? Anwir wonders if she would take his magic or if she already has. Could she ever become too full of magic?
Constantine's bark of laughter brings him back to the center of Anwir's attention and the young man smiles just a little, deciding that he likes the sound. "You feel like the type of man who would do whichever is least expected or, at least, the one that would get you the result you need," he replies, turning his attention back to his task.
Without thought to protest, Anwir stands to his feet, taking Constantine's glass with him. The movement flows well and is clearly practiced even as that expression of concentration never quite leaves the mage's face. Anwir's lips open as he gets to the point of ducking behind the bar for the bottle John had grabbed, "Pardon me, Livvie."
It feels correct, proper to speak to her as something more than just four walls and nice flooring. The Oblivion is so very alive, more alive than some of the people Anwir has come across and that alone deserves a type of respect from him. "He says to be patient like you are. How does one look at something so beautiful while also being patient," he asks under his breath as he refills Constantine's glass, pausing before adding another shot's worth to it. Better to be over-prepared and earn himself another few minutes to look around. Anwir looks out at the Oblivion from behind her bar, wondering if the mage who powers her often stands here and if this is what he sees. He'll have to come back to meet him and see what kind of person he is.
Anwir's eyes glance to Constantine, to see if he's watching. If he thinks he can get away with it, he takes a sip of his drink before returning to the table and pushing the glass in front of the man. Just a sip. A light touch as he sits and traces the bones of the Oblivion, studying her like an archaeologist.
Constantine's bark of laughter brings him back to the center of Anwir's attention and the young man smiles just a little, deciding that he likes the sound. "You feel like the type of man who would do whichever is least expected or, at least, the one that would get you the result you need," he replies, turning his attention back to his task.
Without thought to protest, Anwir stands to his feet, taking Constantine's glass with him. The movement flows well and is clearly practiced even as that expression of concentration never quite leaves the mage's face. Anwir's lips open as he gets to the point of ducking behind the bar for the bottle John had grabbed, "Pardon me, Livvie."
It feels correct, proper to speak to her as something more than just four walls and nice flooring. The Oblivion is so very alive, more alive than some of the people Anwir has come across and that alone deserves a type of respect from him. "He says to be patient like you are. How does one look at something so beautiful while also being patient," he asks under his breath as he refills Constantine's glass, pausing before adding another shot's worth to it. Better to be over-prepared and earn himself another few minutes to look around. Anwir looks out at the Oblivion from behind her bar, wondering if the mage who powers her often stands here and if this is what he sees. He'll have to come back to meet him and see what kind of person he is.
Anwir's eyes glance to Constantine, to see if he's watching. If he thinks he can get away with it, he takes a sip of his drink before returning to the table and pushing the glass in front of the man. Just a sip. A light touch as he sits and traces the bones of the Oblivion, studying her like an archaeologist.
