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Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then you've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium

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Yeah, weaklings! The people here don't have any strength, and no real potential either... It's pathetic, you know?

[He sighs in disappointment and shrugs his shoulders. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, Kariya might feel the sensation of Judal looking over his life-force and prana. Because what's a little invasion of privacy between mages, right?]

I knew you couldn't be one of them! I can see it, you've got some kind of power, don't you?

[Kariya decides not to give his opinion about the state of the locals; there's no truthful answer he could give and moreover... he's wary of the meanings of 'potential'.

This boy, whoever he is, is looking for something.

(Literally; Kariya can feel it, and the Crest Worms as well. He feels them stir and grits his teeth -- he's been trying not to stimulate them. A familiar convulsive shudder travels down his back; a familiar taste in the back of his throat.)

This trick he likes much less.

He's already against the wall; he has nowhere to go.]

Stop that. Stop that! You didn't need to ask, did you?

Edited 2013-02-09 05:44 (UTC)

[Those worms are interesting. Judal can feel them, so much like the dungeon monsters he'd supplied the army with, and he enjoys stirring them up for a moment before he pulls his power away.]

I'm done already, so calm down! But you've done a lot to become stronger, huh...? I like that.

[With a clap of his hands, Judal moves from under his shelter towards Kariya, not at all bothered by the rain that drenches him.]

I like you, old man! What's your name?

[Kariya's shrunk back on himself and he instinctively tries to flinch back more at Judal's approach, but there's only so far he can try to climb into a solid wall. Even when the worms aren't feeding the sensation of them is hateful -- he can't stand feeling them under his skin, squirming between his bones, digging their way deeper and deeper and...

He closes his eyes for a moment and wills away the sensations as the worms calm back down now that they're no longer being disturbed. He has to keep it together. He has to keep this under control.]

I've done what I had to.

[Even if he weren't distracted, the boy's words would make little sense. As it is, there's just a dull sense of bemusement -- strength? He'd wanted his strength to be acknowledged, hadn't he? Tokiomi would have to get off his high horse and--

He has the distinct feeling that maybe they're separate things.]

--It's Kariya. You -- you're a magus?

Right, and that's what I like about you! People who go after what they want with their own hands are the most interesting kind.

[He leans forward from bis spot a few feet away from Kariya, hands behind his back and grinning.]

A "magus", huh?

[That sounds close enough to "Magi" for Judal, honestly. Maybe it's a new title for it. It wouldn't be the first time somebody made up something new to call them by.]

Something like that, I guess! Most people call me an oracle.

[Frankly, Kariya's not sure he wants to be 'interesting' to whatever this boy is. The pressure of the magic behind the careless arrogance puts him on edge -- what would he want with a patchwork magus? -- and he has a distinct feeling he's being toyed with.

He's gotten very good at identifying that feeling.]

An oracle. [He can't say he's all that familiar with magi specialized in divination, but...] What would you call yourself?

[Judal's grin widens and he stands up straight in pride. Oh, this guy isn't stupid, despite the creatures eating at his brain, is he? The rukh around him--magic in its most raw form, really-- swirls in pleasure, too.]

Magi.

[It's said with relish, like it's something amazing and special, even to a magus. It clearly has different connotations to Judal than it does to Kariya, at any rate.]

You can call me Judal, though, since I like you so much.

[Kariya, on the other hand, isn't sure how to take the reaction or the sudden change in magical energy; it was unexpected, but doesn't seem threatening. He's more confused than anything.

(Magic, and being a magus, isn't something to be proud of. It's something that sleeps in your blood, like a latent poison, or Zouken's voice in your ear. It's a weapon to point away from yourself, and to understand the deadliness of, like a handgun. He would be laughed out of the Tower for that analogy.

He knows better than to show the visceral reaction in the face of that enthusiasm.)]

Judal. [The name is foreign. He didn't expect to be able to place it.] What are magi to you?

You don't know?

[Judal's smile slips a bit, along with his shoulders. Seriously? He'd gotten his hopes up that someone would finally recognize him for what he is, but that was probably hoping for too much, considering the different worlds here. Also, people are too stupid the realize it! Yeah, that's it.]

When the rukh was sent out to change the world, it started creating magi! The most powerful magic users, the choosers of kings, the most amazing people alive! How can use magic and not know that?

[Ah, so that's what it was. It's Judal's disappointment rather than his joy that Kariya understands, though he can't entirely sympathize. Familiarity is simply a double-edged blade for him.]

Where I come from, magi is simply the term for all users of magic. Great or small. [He shakes his head.] I'm sorry, but you must come from far away.

[Or another world altogether. That explains, though, at least in part, the unsettling magic energy around the boy. As one of the most powerful mages of his world (apparently)... he'd mistaken Kariya for something of the same.

Now that was a worthy trick.]

You call normal magicians "magi"?

[His voice is filled with disbelief and confusion. How can a world be that messed up that it doesn't even call magi by their proper title, but will offer it to any two-bit hack who can form a borg shield?]

What do you call someone like me, then? You must have some kind of title for the highest level of magic users, right?

... I wouldn't know. The Clock Tower has their own ways of classifying things.

[Magi is just an overall classification, he knows that much -- there's scores of different disciplines and specializations, and the Archmagi of the past, but Kariya doesn't know much about the top of the food chain in the present age.

It's only natural: he's an outcast, and not particularly interested in their opinion of themselves.]

Edited 2013-02-17 22:22 (UTC)

"Clock Tower"? What the hell's that?

[Judal snorts derisively and crosses his arms. He's not sulking, no, not him! ~~Except he totally is.~~]

Your world doesn't make any sense, Kariya. Good thing you left something that dumb behind for a while! You can learn how to use magic without the stupid parts from there.

The Clock Tower administers the use of magic worldwide.

[It's also, from what he knows, home to the worst hotbeds of political intrigue and academic brawls within the Mage's Association. Kariya had always avoided setting foot near the place.

The conclusion Judal seems to have drawn from his words, though, gets a blank look.]

No, it doesn't make very good sense, but -- magic is passed down.

[It's a reflexive protest, without much thought -- there are few things Kariya's internalized from the mage side of the family, but the basis of magecraft in blood is fundamental. Like the sun rising in the east.

The Matou are the abnormality in that regard.]

Passed--? What, you mean in the blood?

[Well, that's a foreign concept. Judal tilts his head to the side in confusion and frowns.]

Stupid, that's not how it works at all! The strongest magicians could have a kid, and that kid could be born without even being able to see rukh! Magic users are chosen by the rukh, obviously.

Yes, that's--

[He stops; they're probably equally as confused right now. Kariya is possibly the worst person to argue the basis of magecraft with. Actually, to argue anything magic with. It's like asking a bat to describe the sky.]

I don't know what rukh is.

You don't know? They didn't teach you anything, did they?

[He growls to himself. How annoying. better fix this before the guy keeps going on with his dumb ideas of how magic is supposed to work.

Without any outward prompting, white and black glowing pieces of magic with tiny wings flutter around Judal at his call, and swirl around Kariya, too, at his command. While it might not take this form or usually be visible this way to a magus like Kariya, it's obviously raw mana.]

This is rukh! The basis of magic!

... No. Not much.

[He trails off with a start at the sudden appearance of those strange little things, shies away briefly before he realizes they're just hovering there. They're small, but concentrated, and it's easy even for Kariya to realize what they are.

The worms sense them too, begin to stir as their appetites are whetted, making him wince. Their appetites and fight-or-flight drives are the same: they're made of survival instinct in its very basest form.

Despite the distraction, he can't help reaching out and trying to touch the nearest one, almost subconsciously.]

It's mana. But you talk about it as though it's alive.

"Mana", "rukh", whatever, of course it's alive. Where do you think it comes from? It's made from everything and everyone that used to be alive. It's pure power from the world, and the world isn't dead yet, is it?

[The one Kariya grabs for settles onto his hand. Though there's no physical weight to it, it feels warm and gentle.]

And it chose me, so I know it's smart, too.

... Your rukh must be smarter than ours.

[He doesn't quite manage to keep all the bitterness from it. Anything that can 'choose' something like Matou Zouken is never going to get his vote of confidence. Sketchy as Judal is, it takes actual talent to rival the Matou family patriarch.

Kariya resists the completely illogical urge to try stuffing the mana in his mouth -- no need to spoil the worms. They'll never not be hungry.

Instead, he just holds it delicately, even though it's unlikely he could do anything like dropping it.]

I knew it was life force, just not that it had a will.

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