My guests seem to be having difficulty responding. Did I ask too many questions at once? I’ve never been the kind of person that could easily get along with strangers, especially ones so different from myself. That’s part of why I chose to self-isolate in the first place. As it turns out, being a once-in-a-generation genius makes it hard to understand the thought processes of the common folk who would rather settle down and raise a family than chase the root of all magic. Now, I get the distinct feeling that the four sitting across from me are more like the former than the latter. A deep pang echoes where my heart should be (keeping your heart in your chest cavity is for suckers). I had forgotten so many things about being in the company of other people, I had also forgotten what it was like to feel alone in a crowd until now. Just what did I do wrong this time?
I sigh to myself, pick up the kettle and head to the kitchen. The tea was cold. How could I let the tea get cold? It’s just one faux pas or misconnection after another, eventually stacking up to an insurmountable cliff. Then they leave. Again. Sure, they give their own reasons and sometimes they make sense, but this always happens first.
I kindly ask Rosetta to light the stove for me on my way and get a reassuring rumble in return. At least I know she’ll always have my back. I created her that way. Not smart enough to have a stimulating conversation with—plenty of people fail that mark, so I can’t really fault her—but company, nonetheless.
I sit the kettle over the fire and wait for it to boil. I wonder if I should go to get other teas sometime. What if they don’t like Chamomile and are too polite to say anything? No, they stabbed me and came here specifically to irradicate me. I think they wouldn’t care too much about politeness. Still, I used to really like tea. I don’t even know when I last drank it. I vaguely remember running out of my favorite blend and just not ever deciding to get more. I stopped going out entirely at some point too, throwing myself solely into my research to forget the pain of losing everyone I love over and over again.
Even if they have been terrible guests, I am somewhat glad they came by to break me out of my funk. Days and nights have been blending together more and more, centuries slipping through my fingers like so many grains of sand. I haven’t made meaningful progress in uncovering the root of all magic in far too long. Maybe a break is just what I need.
Oh, and I should probably do something about my babies. I never meant to hurt people like that. I can’t really bring myself to feel too bad about it, but that has more to do with lethargy than a lack of empathy. Sometime soon, when I’m feeling more energetic, I’ll probably feel bad.
The kettle seems to have started boiling while I was gathering wool. I pick it up and head back to the living room. How long was it boiling while I spaced out? Did my guests decompose already? Maybe I could design a fungus to decompose things rapidly so that I wouldn’t have to put up with the stench that so often accompanies it? Or a flying jellyfish that could wrap around the corpses and shuttle them downwind? Actually, I think I’ve already done that one. I sigh. The spark of joy at creating new life has long gone cold, there simply aren’t any interesting puzzles left to solve. I had an idea the other day to recreate the magic-absorbing scales I used with Asphodel but as insect chitin instead. I’ve also been toying with a distributed nervous system, so one hit to the brain doesn’t make my babies go kaput. I don’t know what I would use it for exactly, but I don’t know what else to do either. Eternity is a much longer time than I thought going in. Most of my motivation anymore is hoping to find something that can bring my passion back. I never used to have thoughts like ‘what will this be used for’. Research and development was a joy in and of itself and knowledge its own reward.
I pause outside the door to compose myself. People like cheerful people, I remind myself. I smile. I don’t think it’s a particularly good one.
I open the door to find the generic-looking crewcut one in a whisper argument with the lanky archer. The light mage with pleasantly chocolate skin and bright white robes has a taciturn frown, the one she’s been sporting since around the time she woke up. The fire mage who has trouble meeting my eyes for one reason or another is trying to shrink into his robes and disappear completely. They are nice robes, I notice. A sparkly emerald, and I can appreciate a high-quality pointy hat when I see one.
“Hello!” Oh, was that too loud? Can they tell that I’m a mess of nerves inside? They’re all staring at me; quick, say something. “I brought the tea! I can go though, if you all need more time to discuss things amongst yourselves… But perhaps I should show you the guest quarters first? Or does anyone need to use the washroom? I’m pretty sure I still have one somewhere. How were the cookies?”
Sophia. Stop rambling, you’re scaring them again. What am I supposed to do differently though? I’ve followed etiquette closely as far as I can tell. I apologized for my oversight with regards to my babies. I was maybe a little too aggressive in asking research-related questions, but surely, they can forgive my enthusiasm? I really miss collaborating with like-minded individuals to plumb the depths of magic. It was a small indiscretion at most. I shift from one foot to another. The floor really is so cold without my hooves. My body is rather uncomfortable and impractical like this, and I miss my horns, even if they were purely cosmetic.
Thankfully, the archer, who seems to be their spokesperson, saves me from this silence.
“I don’t know that we will be staying that long. Thanks for the hospitality though. If we could just have a few more minutes to come to a consensus that would be appreciated.”
Oh. Are they leaving already? Good going, Soph, that has to be a new record.
“Maybe I could come with, then? I miss being around people and I don’t feel like waiting another two millennia for someone to visit.”
“Ah, we wouldn’t want you to interrupt your work on our account. We just don’t seem to have much reason to stay here is all. There are still plenty of demons loose that need slaying, so we’ll probably go do that…
“Incidentally, could we count on you to stop making those?”
“Oh, it would be no imposition. I think I’ve found myself in a bit of a rut with regards to research, so I want to stretch my legs a little and see if maybe I can find some inspiration.
“And I can handle my babies, I know well enough to clean up my own messes. I already have a plan as to how to do that. I just need to know roughly how far they’re roaming, and then cast a spell across that area. It’s a bit of a bummer that I won’t have a convenient template wandering around if I want to copy anything from my previous works, but I can deal.”
“That would be… nice of you. Perhaps after we leave? I for one have no desire to get caught in your spell.”
“Unnecessary. There will be no danger as long as you’re inside Rosetta. She’s resistant to most magics, and I won’t be targeting this area anyway.”
“Why don’t you let us discuss this then, and come back in say an hour?”
“Absolutely. If you want to talk sooner or have any other questions just let Rosetta know. Be sure to enunciate clearly, I haven’t touched up her hearing in a while. Oh, and say please and thank you, she’s very sensitive to polite speech. There was this one time when she kept rearranging my bookshelves until I apologized for leaving them out.”
I set the kettle on the tea tray, and head outside to get this spell over with. I stop to sit on a bench to shift my feet back into hooves. I may as well make myself comfortable. I don’t recall the way to the roof, so I ask for directions every once in a while. It takes roughly ten minutes to step outside. Not ideal. The spell will probably take most of an hour, and I don’t want to keep them waiting. Still, this needs to be done eventually and perhaps this gesture of goodwill can make my guests less afraid of me.
I search my senses, connect to the mana well under Rosetta and begin the chant. A dense, black fog gathers in my hand. Carefully, I cast it in a continuous stream off the parapet and walk the perimeter of the roof. Next is the longest part. I figure to start I’ll target everything in a five-mile radius, which means I need to wait for the mist to spread while continuously supplying it and maintaining my chant. I throw a few melodic flairs into the chant here and there. They won’t affect anything, and the important part is to not lose concentration, it’s a bit easier if you give yourself a little room for creativity and keep things fresh. A ritualism purist would probably beg to differ, but they also aren’t here right now. I just finish a verse set to the tune of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ when I feel the fog bud up against the border of my claimed territory. I finish the last line of the chant and then add in the few stanzas I need to bend the flesh in the mist to my will. With a totally unnecessary (but very cool) flourish of my hand, I end the spell. Every fleshy being within my domain should now be contorting themselves into pretty flowers for my enjoyment.
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The fog thins, and then clears entirely. Glancing below, I see some of my most recent creations trembling, probably trying to resist me with their meager wills. Soon however, my magic overcomes them, and one by one their skins and carapaces tear into artful strips and begin rearranging themselves. Flesh coats the inside of the flowers, bearing the sweet nectar of blood. The petals themselves rise into the air, as if in celebration of my accomplishment. In the middle, for the vertebrates, their skeletons are pushed up for viewing, supported by a loose webbing of tendons as a faux stamen. As I survey the area, I notice a former owl-bear (it had the superior night-vision and visual range of an owl, and all the strength of well, a bear) looking a little lopsided. The petal that houses its former tail looks stunted in comparison to the others and puts off the wonderful symmetry. Reaching out with a lash of mist, I wrest control of the flower and correct this. It’s going to be bothering me to think that there are probably other lopsided flowers out there. I really ought to spend a month or so sometime to shape them all to their most beautiful possible selves, but regrettably that will not be happening soon. I have guests to tend to, and if my gauge on the level of the sun is correct, I am overdue.
I stretch the stiffness from my muscles and head inside. The way back is much quicker now that I know where I’m going. I take a moment outside the door to shift my hooves into feet once more. I may not understand their aversion, but I can cater to their tastes. Then, I debate whether or not to knock. It’s my own house, yet somehow, I feel that my sudden appearance might startle them. Deciding that I’ll probably be startling them no matter what, I go ahead and open the door.
Inside, I notice them all gathered around the windows, their backs to me. I don’t think they’ve noticed my arrival yet, too transfixed by the view outside. I feel a fluff of pride. It is rather impressive when you see it for the first time, I recall.
“It is quite beautiful, don’t you think? I cleared up the demon problem in the process, too. At least locally.”
Lightning fast, Crewcut throws his dagger at my left thigh. Rather close to my heart now that I think about it. I could deflect or dodge it but, sensing an opportunity for a joke, I let it pierce me.
“We really ought to stop meeting like this,” I deadpan. All I get in return are blank stares. “Tough crowd.”
I go ahead and manipulate my flesh so that the dagger slips out, and I seal the wound, taking my blood back inside as well. Waste not, want not. I take a few moments to consider what to say, since it seems nobody else will be picking up that slack. I find I’m not great at handling things with social tact, and a direct approach suits me better. It’s meaningless for me to overthink these things. “So, can you let me know the result of your discussion?” I quickly hop back onto a sofa and rub my feet to put some warmth in them. Even that little bit of walking chilled them off.
“Yes…” says a strangely hesitant archer. A little firmer, he continues, “Yes, we decided to head out immediately. The international council will want to hear news of this development as soon as possible. You’re welcome to accompany us if you like, in fact many of the heads of state will definitely want to talk to you. I imagine there will be plenty of questions.”
I’m a little put out that they stay standing, but I quickly push that from my mind. “Hmm, I suppose there’s no way to avoid bureaucracy once you step foot into civilization. I can give it a try, but if it’s boring, I’ll probably leave. I trust I can find something to do in the city by myself.”
The light mage speaks up, “Whatever, bitch. We’re letting you come along so the least you can do is show up. Did they not teach gratitude wherever you’re from?”
“They did, I was a poor student.” I smirk, remembering my mother’s exasperation when she found out I’d mooned a high priest as he passed through town. We were supposed to be grateful to him for bringing rain, but anyone with eyes could see he was a dimwit. Frankly, even if he did cause the rain, I wouldn’t have respected him. I shake my head, knocking loose those nostalgic thoughts. That was one of my few surviving memories from before I was discovered as a prodigy and spirited away, but I can daydream about the past another time. “Besides, gratitude only goes so far. You couldn’t pay me enough to willingly stick myself in a room for hours with a bunch of stuffy old men trying to sound important. I may be an immortal, but there are some things even immortals don’t have time for.”
“Please tell me you’re the only immortal. Or if not that the other ones aren’t this insufferable.”
“I’ve taught the secrets of immortality to a number of talented mages through the years, and I can confidently say that we’re all insufferable.” I smirk, then frown. “The first thing they tend to do after unlocking immortality is run off and get themselves killed. They think that just because they can’t die naturally that they can claim some town or city as their own and live forever as God-King. People tend not to take kindly to that kind of thing. Although there was this one woman who convinced a farming village that she was a dryad and would ensure bountiful harvests each year if they gave her offerings. She delivered on her promise and developed a long-lasting relationship with the villagers. I used to check on her every once in a while, and as far as I know she’s still there. That was oh, sixty-five hundred years ago or so.”
Crewcut looks at me intensely, “Can you tell us more about how these immortals died?”
The archer shoots him an “are you serious” look. Which yes, asking someone for more information on how you can kill them is typically a faux pas, but immortality is an interesting subject and I’m always willing to answer questions about my work. Could he be considering seeking it himself?
“I’m glad you asked! It’s surprisingly easy. The version of immortality that I use and have taught is deceptively simple once you have the necessary knowledge and finesse. Normally as you age your tissues degrade and wear with age, and certain things like heavy metals build up. Eventually the cells they’re made of start having trouble dividing for a variety of reasons. All you have to do is rejuvenate your tissues and remove the heavy metals every once in a while. Of course, if you mess up the process it’s really easy to apply too much force and implode your heart or something. If you do, then you’re in trouble. For instance, without a heart you only have about ten seconds to create a new one or you black out and die. That’s why I always oversee a pupil when they attempt this the first time; I’ve saved a few lives because I could see when a problem arose and offer a correcting hand. The thing that takes longest is getting a good enough understanding of the body so that you don’t accidentally give yourself a fatal deformity in any of your organs, those could take years to reveal themselves and then one day you just don’t wake up…
“What was the question again? Right, how to kill an immortal. Well, the same way that you kill a mortal of course. Use sword or spell to destroy something vital to living, and make sure they don’t regenerate it. Most immortals aren’t savvy enough to regenerate a vital organ on the spot, it can take up to two weeks for some of my former pupils to make sure they do everything correctly, but it’d be best to keep an eye on them until they stop having a pulse at the very least. Of course, that’s only for my particular method of achieving immortality and there are likely others just waiting to be discovered! I think I got reasonably close to finding a way to achieve immortality using light magic while collaborating with Seram and Judith, but they left before we could crack it. I have a disaffinity for light magic, so I haven’t made any progress on it on my own, but I’m fairly sure it’s possible! I can only speculate on the method to kill such an immortal, but I would be very interested to find out!”
I glance to the light mage, remembering she was here. “If you want, I can copy my notes on the subject for you or we could collaborate. I’m sure we could discover so many amazing things together!”
Crewcut coughs loudly. Coming back to myself, I realize that Miss Light Mage is looking uncomfortable. I don’t know when I stood up, so I demurely sit down again. “Haha, sorry about getting worked up like that. The offer still stands though.”
The archer speaks up, “That was very informative, thank you.” I preen. “I’m glad my companion didn’t offend you. But I think he was probably more curious about how you were able to shrug off so many of our attacks when we mistakenly opened fire earlier. It was a very impressive feat, and if we could recreate something like that it would obviously be extremely helpful.”
I wave my hand dismissively, “No offense taken. As for how I withstood so much damage, well you don’t live as long as I have without picking up a few tips and tricks. I could share them but by the time I finished you all would be old and wrinkly. I’ve done plenty of tutoring though and I am or have been proficient in any number of weapons and musical instruments over the years so if one of you needs a little help with something I can probably give advice. The same goes for knowledge of magic, though for the more obscure topics I would probably have to search my notes. There’s simply too much information about magic to fit in one brain. I would know, I’ve tried. You start to run into trouble distributing enough oxygen into the tissue past a certain size.”
“I see, that’s very kind of you. If I have any questions, I suppose I’ll let you know.”
Nobody seems to have anything to add to that, so I ask, “When exactly are we heading out? I could dig around in my cupboards and see if there’s anything to eat around here first.”
“That won’t be necessary. We ate shortly before we arrived, and we’d like to get on the way as soon as possible.”
My heart sinks. I can’t help but that was merely an excuse not to eat my cooking again. Was it really that bad? Why didn’t they say anything? To be fair I haven’t done trials to see the effect on taste those preservation enchantments might have after two thousand odd years. I haven’t even had a digestive system for most of that time, but it should have been something I thought of before now. It’s little things like this that make it so hard to keep friends.
I put on a faint smile. “Well, let’s get going then. I’ll show you to the coat room where I stashed all of your equipment, then I’ll go grab something a little more substantial to change into myself.” I thumb my simple house-robe. “I’m told there’s a few things in the attic, so it’ll just take me a minute to scavenge.” I get up and lead them to the coat room. The journey passes in silence. I should try to brainstorm some conversation topics for the road, though I guess I don’t need to be in any particular hurry. I wonder if I still have that one dress from the flower festival in Antioch. These are the kinds of idle thoughts that pass through my mind as I head up to dig my clothes out of storage.