slightlytaller

I've seen you cry, that bridge has been crossed. Just making sure you knew.

A lot of people have seen me cry. It's not that special.

I had not even a single delusion that it was. That's the point. Maybe you had a harder reputation at home, but here you have too much heart to pull it off.

I'm not criticizing, for the record.

Thanks for your honesty.

In the circles I work in back in London, nearly everyone knows me by history, reputation, or name. I have few secrets, and no one's information is safe from being used against them. I actually took special efforts to seem more-- well, severe. Dignified. Lordly-- than I actually am.

It's for appearances and respect in public.

It's still not always enough, because even the way I speak paints me as an outsider. It never hurts to try, though.

Edited 2022-05-03 03:03 (UTC)

I don't know, we're all outsiders now.

Honestly, I can't even pretend to understand I know what you've been through. My people's M.O. was always minding one's own business for the sake of getting more important things done. Kind of the opposite, I suppose.

Still. I hear where you're coming from. It's a shame your circles didn't treat each other better.

It is what it is, and it's the life I foolishly chose.

The internal rivalries are so tense that one misstep can make the difference between life and death. We... don't keep pets, for a variety of reasons. They often end up slaughtered as part of a blood sacrifice for a larger scale of magic, or they can be used against us by our enemies if they're spotted.

I bring this up because my Omen resembles a stray cat that my apprentice, Gray, took in for an evening. The next day we found it run over in the street-- because someone was trying to make an attempt on my life.

Obviously, I lived. But, that sort of happening is not uncommon if you anger the right people.

Unfortunately, I represent something that angers quite a few people.

They killed her cat?

If you ask another necromancer, they'll tell you the obvious solution is to kill the other guy's cat first. I'm not pro-cat killing, metaphorical or otherwise. Still.

[There's something to be said for the "get the jump on them" strategy? He supposes.]

For what it's worth, I'm not sure the omens can be killed.

I know. That's exactly why we don't keep pets.

Which, this cat wasn't. Gray took pity on a stray, whom she brought inside to give a meal and who then tore into a pair of expensive shoes.

[They were more than just expensive shoes-- they were the first pair of leather shoes Waver had bought with his first paycheck in his professional career. There as a sentimentality to them, as well as practicality. Leather could be repaired and refinished if properly maintained, after all.]

It's the fact that my enemies spotted the cat in our vicinity and made assumptions that caused the problems.

The fact that they assumed correctly didn't help matters either.

[Despite his initial frustrations and misgivings, Waver had taken it upon himself to care for the cat in it's final hours-- and even personally buried it in the courtyard outside of his apartment.

A glance towards the cat he had now dubbed Gray left him feeling haunted. The cat, noticing his rapidly spirally mood, ambled over to his workspace and plopped herself right in the center of it all. Her bright eyes peered up at him, demanding attention.

Succumbing to her wishes was far too easy.]

I know you're right, Palamedes. I still find myself cursing my inability to be a better healer whenever I think too hard on this matter. That's all.

[Flopping down on the floor entirely, Waver rolled onto his back and ran his fingers through Gray's soft fur. Although there were still far more questions that he was comfortable with...

This was okay.]

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