Connections

[Onira]

Onira sat in the empty grounds, resting his head on a bench as he kept his body rested. He was staring at the stars, the many bright orbs reflecting in his bright violet eyes. He had missed the view. The cold nights when he and his master would sit in a large oak with a blanket, staring up at the heavenly sky. Those- to Onira- were what gave life a point. A meaning. The little moments of beauty. Sometimes even the most energetic had to relax and just take a look at nature's beauty.

"I've missed this."

A cold breeze brushed against Onira's cheek. It was comforting in a way. Made him feel at home. Made him feel like he was where he was needed. Or at least where he was supposed to be. A tear came to the blond-haired male's eye. He wanted the feeling to go on. He wanted to be something again. Somebody. More than flesh and bone to everyone. He wanted to be cared for. He wanted to draw endless amounts of solomn seals. He wanted to constantly eat to regain his strength. He wanted to be teased for being too short. He wanted his routine and his master back. He wanted a real home.

"I'm sorry."

The apprentice let his head fall, more tears running down his cheeks and landing in his lap.

"Where did you go? Why can't I see you?"

Drops continued to fall, until Onira heard someone coming. He quickly flicked away his tears and looked to the silhouette.

"Who is it?"

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm was restless. Walking through the corridors and pathways of the school, he felt almost like he was searching for something, but he had no Idea what it could be. "I suppose I'll just find someplace to test the new batch of beetles," he murmurs to himself, and he begins to walk towards the training grounds.

Entering the grounds, he breathes the fresh night air for a moment. The stars, unencumbered by clouds or the lower atmosphere, shone brilliantly down upon the seemingly deserted grounds. Thoughtfully gazing at them, he walked off into the silence in search of a good spot to begin testing at a lesiurely pace.

Suddenly, a voice in the semi-darkness cries out. A figure sits alone on a bench about 10 paces away. How had he not spotted it there? Maybe I am tired, after all... "No worries. I'm a friend, or as friendly as they come at this time of night." Torm steps closer in order to get a better look. It was a boy in his mid-to-late teens with strange blond hair, and he had apparently been upset about somethin just before Torm had interrupted in his solitude.

Deciding to try and cheer the fellow up, Torm chuckles and says, "Sorry I stalked on up to you like that, I didn't see you there." He looks the boy over again, smiling. "Well no wonder, shorty, I'd have trouble spotting you standing!" he jokes amiably. "Have you got a name, fella?"

[Onira]

Onira looked at the newcomer. Torm's attire reminded him of Priest. Eck! That was a bad day. And a very tiring one. Onira put on one of his childish, very toothy grins.

"Well, welcome to the grounds."

Onira gave a thumbs up. He knew what it really stood for, but in the day an age, it also meant something much less sex-ed. However, almost comically, the thumb drooped. Onira put on, not so much a mad face, but a somewhat annoyed and unimpressed one.

"I'm not short. I'm just lengthly challenged. At least that's what my master..."

Onira stopped at the last word, the sound of it ringing in his mind. His master. No. He had to push the thoughts out of his mind. Otherwise he'd never stop crying. He had to learn to take the pain.

"Anyways. Like I said. What brings you to the training grounds? It is a little late for practice don't you think?"

Onira let a gentle smile find it's way to his face. He'd let the blanket up again. the one to cover his true pain. The hurt he always felt.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm liked this kid immediately. He had some moxie in him, that was for sure. And yet, when he started talking about his master, he clammed shut. He also avoided the name question... Torm looks the boy over again. As he had spoken, his face had gone from anxious to an aggressive cheerfullness to pained reflection in the span of just a few moments. He's dealing with something of some sort, but he'll open up about it if he wants to; It's not my place to intrude. Still... The boy was clearly younger than him, and his size accentuated that, but he wasn't that much younger, and Torm made a mental note to be sure to treat him with the respect due to a fellow man and student.

"I was actually going to test out a few things I made earlier today, but I just realized it's a little dark; I won't be able to see them. Do you mind if I join you for a few moments?" Torm smiles amiaby. "The name's Torm, by the way. You don't have to tell me yours if you don't want to, but it might be nice to chat for a few regardless, if it's not a problem."

[Onira]

As soon as Onira heard the stranger say it was too dark, he got the idea. Onira, as a few already knew, would sometimes take alchemy to a bit of an almost obsessive level. The science was so intriguing, that every chance he got, he used it. Infact, he was soon starting a secret renovation project for the students. Make their rooms a little more... personal.

"You know..."

Onira leaped up off the bench and walked to the circular wall that surrounded the grounds. Probably to keep any nether bolts from killing bob the corner store owner.

"Alrighty!"

Onira let the tattoos on his palms light up as he placed them against the wall. He then focused as a bright light flooded the wall. The glow soon discipated to reveal fourteen lamps. They all had flame in them. Onira used the small amount of wood in the wall to be used as a medium for the fire. Then he just created a spark with the stone a bam! A torch.

"Whadda ya think?"

It was then that Onira heard the question for the name. He didn't feel a reason to protect his identity. However, he had been a little slow on the draw.

"The name's Onira."

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Torm watches amusedly as the guy whips out some alchemy on the very walls of the training ground, creating a series of torches that add a degree of light to the area. So he goes by the name Onira, does he? Stubbornly cheerful again. He has some real skill, it seems. "Very impressive, very impressive! In my limited experience, I've come to understand that alchemy of that complexity requires a great deal of training to perform alone. You must have a fine instructor and talent to match."

He thinks for a moment, and speaks up again. "I'll try something similar in result." Closing his eyes, he begins to weave. In his mind, threads of elements: water, light, and earth, criscross and dive over and under eachother, forming a crosshatch pattern of elements that pulses in a complex rhythm. As he stretches his arms out and splays his fingers wide, the weave in his mind splits into thirteen copies in Torm's mind. Opening his eyes and concentrating on thirteen stones in the wall spaced evenly between the torches, he gently settles the invisible mental weaves over them and ties them off. The stones begin to emit a bright light, and strangely enough, water cascades out of them as if they were holes in a dam. The light travels inside the flowing water, and the stones appear to be spouting liquid light.

Between the stars, torches, and the light-falls, the arena is now extremely well-lit. Torm, relaxing his arms, smiles at Onira. "A pretty trick, eh? Hardly practical, but the plants are getting watered." He leans thoughtfully on his ladder. "It seems that the main difference between our styles is that you mold creation, and I merely embellish on it..."

[Onira]

Onira watched in awe at the actions. Being a man of science, the actions were magnificent. It was the appearance more than the actual act. It looked like the light had solidified and was spurting out of the stone walls in droplets. Only one word really came to mind.

"Beautiful."

Onira stood for almost a full minute just looking at the bright liquid. He was almost entranced in it. However, he eventually regained himself enough to speak.

"I guess that would make us supporters of each other then."

Onira didn't even turn when he was talking. He just kept looking at the lights. They reminded him of tears. The tears of angels as one might say. Onira turned around and let his body rest to his knees as he stared to the ground.

"I guess science has it's limits."

Onira lifted himself back up just with his leg strength. Quite a feat for some. For him, it was simple. Science as usual. Onira looked to Torm.

"That's quite a talent you've got. Very... pretty."

The word was foreign to him, and it showed to his very formal pronunciation.

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

More than a little flattered, Torm smiles again and gazes around at both of their creations. "There are pros and cons to scientific magic like yours and abstract magic like mine; it is not merely science that is limited in its own way." Gesturing at the cascating water, he says, "My light-falls are beautiful, true, but eventually the imbuement will weaken and they will fade from existence. Your creations, the torches, shall persist, as they are solid creations, made from the molecules of real objects." Torm nods at the torches, which continue to burn brightly around the area. "Perhaps that is fitting, that beauty fades while realism remains, or no one would practice one branch of magic or the other. I can affect reality in the short term in magnificent fashion, but things you create in your lifetime may outlast time itself, while my own legacy..." Torm looks down, chuckling softly, his fedora's wide brim now hiding his face in shadow. "Even tales of great deeds fade from memory as time progresses, and no enchantment lasts forever without maintenence..." He pauses for a while, seemingly lost in thought.

Sounding almost empassioned, as if it was a subject he had pondered long and hard on before, he raises his head slowly and continues. "Besides, what would beauty be without science? Would any man appreciate the wonders of the world if he had not first been driven to seek understanding by his inquisitive nature; if he had not first turned from the path of the beast and sought out knowledge, sought out science?"

[Onira]

Onira listened. Even he could recognize the words as wise beyond Torm's years. Then, a poem came to him. He had only heard it once, but the light falls reminded him of it (you've probably heard this before. One of my personal favourites).

"Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay."

In a way, that one poem said what Torm was speaking of, just in a more lyrical way. Of course, the poem was spoken in almost every school in North America atleast once. But it always stuck.

"I guess in a way you're right. Magic slowly dissipates, only to be reborn. Science however never withers. Science can create beauty, but magic is all that mystifies. Honestly, magic boggles my mind. In the end it breaks all of sciences rules. 'Matter cannot be created' being one of the most prominent."

Onira gave a sigh.

"But it's not important."

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

Onira's final remark catches Torm off guard, and he finds himself chuckling slightly once again. "Yes, I guess you're right. The only rules that make a difference in a world where magic defies logic are what a person can do and what a person can't do."

Moving to lean against the back of the nearby bench, he hesitates a moment, then speaks up. "I've got a slightly personal question to ask you...you don't have to answer, but I've wanted to ask someone this all day..." He pauses again and idly kicks a pebble resting near his feet. "...What is the reason for the work you do here? Well, what I really mean is why do you, personally, train and fight? What makes you want to become strong? That's, of course, assuming that you are here at the academy for the purpose of developing your abilities."

[Onira]

Onira was thrown off for a second. He knew why he was there. But, it was still hard to work out into words. Although some would find it easy, his grammar wasn't always up to date.

"Well, I guess I'm here because this is my life. Since I was little..."

Onira started off slowly. His past always pained him, tonight especially.

"Since I was little the only person I've known is my master. My family was murdered when I was young, so my master took the role of my father. He found may and took me to Babylos. We lived just off of the campus, and I was taught all about alchemy since I was four I think."

Onira stopped, remembering all of the morning solomn seal drawing drills.

"When my master died, I lived alone for two years. It's only recently that I've decided here is where I belong. It's where everyone goes to learn more about their skills. However, I've been dissapointed by the lack of alchemic knowledge around the campus. Makes me feel... alone."

Onira stopped for a second, the word 'alone' looming in the air for a second.

"So, may I ask what brings you to the academy?"

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

And so it comes into the light... Torm thinks. No parents, dead master, no one else alchemically inclined around...there's got to be a serious gap there.

Taking a deep breath, he begins. "Why I'm here? Well, It's hard to explain. My father was a powerful enchanter, and an archmage during some huge magical war...he never really told me much about it... Anyways, after the war, he had had enough of fighting and destruction , so he took the off-campus test and moved to the surface to start a family. That part he did explain to me."

Torm shifts his stance a bit and thinks back to the day he had first talked with Dad about the academy. "He said to me, 'son, the reason I gave up the fight is that I lost the desire to do it. I was protecting the world, but no one I knew...I was detatched. I wanted to start a family and find some people who were important to me; people truly worth protecting. That's you, your sister, and your mother.'"

He glances over at Onira and then looks back at the ground at his feet. "We're kind of opposite in a sense, he and I. I already have important people to protect, but not the strength to do it. I'm going to succeed here and fight chaos in the world for them." Another pause.

He suddenly jerks straight upright as if struck by some monumental idea. "As for alchemy, I don't know much about it per se, but I do know a few things about magic in general, and the different aspects of training that apply to most forms." Torm grins at Onira. "I have a great idea for some training for you. Interested? It's a little demanding in the patience department, but what good is rushed science?"

[Onira]

Onira was stunned, and his expression definately showed it. Three things really stood out the most. The first was the training. Onira wondered how someone without alchemic knowledge could train him. But then the second thing caught him. Patience. Not his strong point, but he figured he could deal with it. And lastly was the word 'science'. He was going to be trained in what sounded like both science and magic. Interesting. In essence, it was alchemy.

Onira ran the option through his head over and over again. Looking at the facts and weighing them. He ultimately came to one conclusion.

"Couldn't hurt."

Onira walked closer to Torm. He was very intrigued now in his idea. It sounded very... different. Not really impossible, but nothign Onira had thought of. That much was that obvious.

OOC: Short!

[Tormaigh MacRagallach]

"Don't get too excited, it's more of a long-term project-type thing, but I think it will be of benefit."

He rummages in his pockets for a moment with both hands, and comes up with two shiny, beetle-looking objects and a handful of what looks like scrap metals of different sorts. "You certainly have some serious strength and some focus and dexterity within your field. That much is clear from the torch demonstration. When I learned magic from me da, he taught me that there were threre aspects to magery that had to be mastered in order to gain real power: control, dexterity, and power, in that order. You've already got some of each down already, it seems. The following is my personal training program, but adapted for alchemy, or at least I hope it is." Torm looks about at the identical torches burning around the grounds.

These," he says, holding out the two beetles, "are Clockwork Beetles. They require a pulse of mana to activate, but are entirely mechanical; there's no magic in their inner workings, except the weave I place over them to make them behave alive and respond to stimuli. I made them myself, and they're incredibly complex; you can't even see a lot of the parts very well without magnifying lenses. These scraps," he explains, holding out the other hand, "are all the raw materials needed to make one."

Step one: Control. Take one apart and make the individual parts from the scraps. Most are extremely small, and a millimeter's deviation makes a difference in the final product. You can fashion amazing stuff on a normal scale already, but imagine what you could do if you refined your control on a tinier scale? "The big leagues" would be even more of a snap snap, and further complexity would be extremely possible.

Step two, Dexterity. Make more than one at once. Creating multiple objects of different properties and shapes would seem like it would be a bit harder, especially on an extremely miniscule, delicate scale. If I'm wrong about any of this, forgive my naivete, but that would make sense, logically. Once again, refining dexterity and multitasking on a tiny scale just might make the larger stuff even easier than it is now.

Step three: Power. This is the behemoth. You'll want to work on creating more than one part connected together as they're meant to be once the beetle is assembled. Creating more and more parts requires more actual strength, and aligning and interlocking the parts requires even more dexterity. Eventually, you may be able to create the whole assembled beetle in one go. If you can create something that complex and delicate from undeveloped scrap, you'll have outstripped any alchemist I've ever heard of. Then, the only limits are basically your own creativity and what's on hand. Are you following?"

[Onira]

Onira almost fell over at the site. He looked at the mechanical bug, then it's parts, then back to the bug. He pointed, slowly ossilating between the two items.

"So I make that, out of that, without even being able to see half the parts?"

It wasn't so much a question as it was Onira repeating the task to himself. He wasn't too sure if what he was told to do was possible. Especially doing it in one try. But then again, it was worth a try, so why not?

"Alright. Sounds simple enough. Now do i get one to figure out where everything goes, or do I play it by ear?"

Onira walked for it, ready for the task ahead of him. Sure he might fail miserably, but what was a win without failure. Then again, Onira more figured to himself that it was something along the lines of what was a win without forty failures? But no matter. Might kill some time. Okay, might kill a year. But whatever. Should be fun.

OOC: Short again!