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Mei-Xing has spent weeks building her home, aided by the various spirits she summoned each day. It was a fairly large one, admittedly, made up of three small structures in a u-shape, with a gate in front of it. It is obviously not finished yet, a testament both to her imprisonment and her need to get everything right. As it is, only the rear building looks even close to being completed. However, the gate, a wall some three meters tall with smoothed slices of stone set into the surface, is complete. Well, except for the door itself.

Mei-Xing calls it a work in progress to anyone who asks. In private, she spends a lot of time hurling insults at it. She's taken many classes for architecture, and can design the hell out of a building, but actually building it. Well. That's a horse of a different color.

Still, at least one of the rooms is in enough shape to act as a spell laboratory. And it's there that she makes her careless mistake. It should be an illusionary spell, something powerful enough to warp even the images a machine could bring, and the results are just like that.

The sky above her house is suddenly filled with an image of Mei-Xing, frowning at something that isn't there. "Well," she booms, loud enough to be heard across the city, "That fucked up." Suddenly, she looks to the side, as if having her attention called to something, and the image moves to the side. It leans forward and looks up. "Aw, drek. I must have placed a sigil in the wrong spot."

The image thrusts a hand out towards the rest of the city, the air behind it filling with a brilliant, kaleidoscoping light. "IGNORE ME!" And with a flash of purple, it vanishes.

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That final command simply hadn't worked. Within moments, a blue streak arcing through the sky resolves into a flying elf, which drops lightly to the ground before the building.

Not entirely certain what the polite way to announce his presence was, Aibghalien settled for a polite knock on the door of the building which houses the magical energy still crackling in his enchanted sight.

The 'building' isn't much. There's a simple roof, some poles for support, and a clay wall with a door in it.

"I don't want any," is her instant response to his knocking. "I'm taking a shower! Go away!"

She can clearly be seen, thanks to the lack of proper walls, not showering. Instead, she's making arcane sigils on a piece of wood with her finger, the symbols glowing for a moment before she erases them with her hand and starts on a completely different set. This one is distinctly mathematical.

"You don't want a present?" the elf returned loud enough for her to hear, amused and certainly still cheerful. "I brought you something by way of apologizing for not making time to visit you sooner..."

"Give me the present or your life is forfeit." She doesn't even look up, just holding a hand out, opening and closing it in a 'gimme' fashion. Her other hand continues to etch out the spell formula, until she taps a finger and looks up.

"You are a cruel man, making a girl wait like that." She pouts a little, as if deeply hurt. "What if I had suffered a fatal accident waiting, huh?"

...She was very obviously not waiting on him.

"Then I would start investigating who really had the accident and what had happened to you, because it didn't take me more than a few words to be certain you weren't the sort prone to fatal accidents."

He reached into his backpack, and from it drew an immense roll of fabric that really shouldn't have fit in there. This he holds out, two-handed, with a smile hat wavered between sheepish and amused. "Given how many of these I haven't seen around here, this is probably completely out of style and fashion for you, but it's something I used to keep in my lab, so I hoped it would find some use here in your lodge."

"Aw, that's sweet." He'd probably have to get in line, though.

Her eyebrows both disappear into her hairline as she takes a gander at the roll of fabric. "That is... A big roll." She takes it, supporting the weight with a levitation spell as she runs her hands across it. What could she do with it?

Well, it might work for curtains or screens. Maybe fuel for transformative spells, she'd never have to worry about running out of clothes again. Just a quick fashion spell and... Maybe she could write spell formulae on it? No, she had that dragon crystal.

"We just don't have a lot of fabric around, that's all. Most of it goes to Reinforce Zwei, she runs a tailor shop or something a few miles thataway." She gestures vaguely, then lets the spell rotate the roll around her, stepping aside so that Aibghalien could enter. "Avalion, right? I'm not too good with names, sorry."

He doesn't expect any interest from her in the slightest. That won't stop him from his good-natured friendliness and mild flirtations. Those things don't know a line anyway.

"Aibghalien, yes," he said with a smile as he stepped in to look curiously around. Given her half-elven nature, he never suspected how she was spelling it in her head, especially since her pronunciation had only erred in a minor vowel difference in the last syllable (it was a harder "e").

"This is actually a tapestry specifically designed for a magical laboratory. One of the first items I enchanted, actually, when I took up the practice beyond wands and potions. It gathers residual magical energies that might otherwise linger and contaminate the lab... then, if you have a spell or effect which needs to be terminated immediately, you can speak the phrase 'Crom denied', and it will emit an area dispel."

He really hoped she found this interesting or at least worthwhile.

There are few, read as none, who have made an open interest in how she looks, but there are more than a few who rely on her for one thing or another.

She would have laughed in his face at the idea of being called a half-elf. Either you were an elf or you weren't, biology didn't make things like half elves. What would be next? Half-orcs? Troll/dwarf mixes?

"Huh." She closes her eyes, peering through the astral realm at the aura of magic around the tapestry. How had she missed it the first time around? "Does it have a limit? The last thing I need is some of the barriers I'm putting into place to be banished because a spell of mine went out of control." Not that they ever would, the very way she controlled her magic would keep such a thing from happening.

No, she's already thinking up ways to weaponize it. Especially if she can pick apart the enchantments and warp it to work for her own magics.

Belatedly, she jerks her head up, remembering her manners. Those tend to take the back burner whenever she has something interesting to think about. "Ah! Of course, this is an interesting gift. I'm honored to receive it, but is it really okay to give up something so valuable?"

It's simple enough to explain why she missed it initially: their magic words in entirely different ways. Though, by odd coincidence, they both draw off the a very similar power -- mana, mebghail, either way you term it, it's magical energy created by life and nature -- hers deals with the manipulation of it in the astral plane and grounding it into the physical, whereas his functions at all levels on the physical plane itself. Aibghalien actually has a darn difficult time detecting her purely mana-based workings in return.

"It targets the strongest non-barrier effect in the room," he responded. He'd had to work hard (at the time) to build in that exclusion. "If you create an effect that's too strong, it'll have a harder time dispelling it... the general theory being that if you can create an effect that strong you probably have better ways of dealing with it than this. At the time I made it, it could handle most things I could do.

He certainly wouldn't hold a momentary lapse of manners against her. To the contrary, he's downright grinning; that moment of distraction was more gratifying to him than any compliments or thanks. "I could make another one, but I've reached the point in my studies where it's much more educational to let a disaster go through with itself than stop it. My lab is pretty much immune to damage -- well, at least on the structural level. Besides, I like to flatter myself that it also LOOKS nice. Which made me think of you," he added with another grin.

"Hm." She finally lets go of it, and sends it to rest on a table. She'd have to study it in detail later, as much as she could without damaging it. Now that she knew it was a tapestry, damaging it to weaponize it would be noticable, and likely lose her face.

"I try to avoid disasters when it comes to magic. It tends to hurt me more than other people." Too much mana flow, after all, could be dangerous. That, and most of her magic worked on a personal level. The idea of creating a tornado or a firespout... Well, spirits could work just as well for that. "Usually, I catch things when I'm still working on the formula for the spell. It makes it much safer for me, let me tell you."

At his compliment, she waves a hand and laughs. "Careful, you'll make me think you stopped by for more than just a little discussion about magic."

"Well," he said, a little playfully, "I'd be lying if I said I'd failed to notice you have certain pleasant qualities other than magic. But if I've given you any indication that you can't distract me by mentioning an interesting magical fact or theory, I apologize. Because you can. If you want to, in any case.

"Speaking of which..." Yes, she'd already managed to say one thing in passing that intrigued him. "Why would an error in magic be substantially more dangerous to you?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "Please. You're an elf, and another mage. You wanna go for a quick roll, just say so." Inwardly, she cackles. That one would probably throw him for a loop.

Mei-Xing waggles her hand a bit. "I channel mana directly through my body to work magic. It's the life force of the planet focused through me and my will. At best, the strain makes me a little tired." At worst, she pulls in too much power and fries herself.

Ha! Aibghalien had dealt in high-level political negotiations and life-or-death crises for years now. An overt sexual reference, even for the high-fantasy version of a computer geek, wouldn't faze him. "I AM an elf, and a mage, which means I certainly don't do anything worth doing quickly," he returned with a grin, "and you certainly wouldn't be what I chose to hurry even if I did."

He looked her over, which would be shamefully checking her out if he weren't pondering her words with that juggernaut of an intellect. "Life force of the planet," he repeated, thoughtfully. "On my world, we would call that mebghail... and it is only usable for the most powerful of spells. And it also requires the blood of a god in one's veins, as well as at least a month of attunement to the land and its magical source. I can understand how it could be dangerous to channel directly... but the fact that you can do that is, well..." He thought a moment, then decided that nothing less than mild profanity could properly convey just how he felt. "Damn impressive."

Now she laughs out loud. "Well played."

Ah. He understands the basic explanation. "The most widely accepted term in our world is 'mana'. Certain traditions call it different things, but what it's called doesn't matter. It all works the same." She gestures, drawing forth a pair of chairs that she'd raided from the city. She settles into one of them, gesturing for him to do the same. "I'm far from the most powerful user out there, but I'm well initiated. Plant life creates mana, and all living things interact with it. Only certain animals and metahumans, the Awakened, can use it. We don't know why, not yet, but we're pretty sure it's something in our genes."

She rolls her shoulders in a shrug. "Doesn't matter. Whether you're a shaman, a mage, or an adept, you still manipulate mana in accordance to your totem, tradition, or path."

He merely bowed, with a smile, in acknowledgment of her compliment, then takes the seat she indicated. "I'm assuming by 'genes' you mean something in your basic makeup?" It sounded similar enough to the concept of immortal blood that he felt that to be a reasonable guess.

"There is only one type of magic on your world, then, no matter that nature of the practitioner?" He thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "That makes sense, if the only source of magic is 'mana'. The gods and related cosmic forces provide a type of magic we call 'divine'. Some similarities, some differences. Only divine magic can heal, for example, while arcane magic such as I use is generally superior for evocations and illusions... to make two oversimplified comparisons."

She waggles her hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "Close enough. Honestly, I don't feel like getting too deep into a biology discussion right now."

She nods. "Right. The way you harness it is all different, but the basics are the same. Take, for example, physical adepts, mages, and shamans. Physical adepts can only use magic to enhance their bodies, become stronger and faster. We don't know why that is, but it's just so. Shamans follow a kind of spirit, a totem, and their abilities and skills are as varied as the members of this crew. An Owl shaman might have enhanced senses at night and be more skilled with stealth magics, while a Bear is concerned with health and combat magics. Compared to mages, we harness it in whatever way it works for us. Some people use religious prayers, others use complex thaumaturgic equations... I've seen one mage base his power on the childhood stories he heard."

Aibghalien nodded as she spoke, absorbing all the information she gave him in its entirety. "So then," he said, asking the inevitable question with a smile, "how precisely do you go about it, then? I wouldn't say no to a demonstration, if you were willing to give it... I certainly wouldn't hesitate in returning the favor either."

She shrugs. "Well, I've been doing minor levitation spells here." She opens her palm as she talks, letting a little mana flow through her. "Me, I'm a chaos mage. I believe in a theory that no form of manipulating mana is the 'true' version, unlike the 'psychics' who claim we manipulate molecules with their minds or the voduns..." As she talks, dust particles in the room start to swirl above her hand, forming a miniature hurricane. It could be an illusion, save that there's an actual breeze. "I just take whatever works best and adapt it to how I work things."

Of course, after so long, she'd managed to make her own style work mostly perfectly for herself.

"So your style is... no style but the practical?" After a moment of incredulity, he began to laugh -- simply because he couldn't imagine any sentiment that so resembled to sorcerer's mindset, so opposed to his own, and so exactly what he hated about sorcery in the first place.

But it certainly wasn't anything more than amusement. He knew full well his own choices were his own alone, and suited to his own personality alone, so he could hardly fault Mei-Xing for not being him. Ha!

Besides, she did nice work. He watched the display with an eye for the movement of magic behind it, nodding as he did. "I think the most impressive thing there is your subtlety," he said. "The vast majority of spells I know require a verbal or somatic component, and to eliminate the need for that requires a great deal more effort on the part of the caster."

She shrugs. "I started off with mostly wuxing and Buddhist traditions, but as I talked to Dragonslayer, I realized that the trappings didn't matter so much as the power underneath the symbols that everyone uses. So I mix and match."

She glances down at her hand, then closes her fist over the hurricane. "Most of us don't need to bother with speaking or moving while spellcasting. It's just that we can do it to help us focus. If I wanted to simplify matters, or add a bit of oomph, I'd dance or something and incorporate that into my casting." She looks up. "A lot of the Christian mages I know, most of the guys following religious traditions actually, incorporate prayer into their casting. It helps them focus and shape the power in their minds, and makes it easier for them to drown out distractions."

She waves her hand, as if dismissing all of that. "I can do it, too. But I prefer to save that kind of drek for the more difficult rituals. Damned if I'm gonna let someone know I'm about to fry their hoop."

"That's entirely reasonable," he said as something of a cover for the fact that she'd hit him with four or five terms he had no hope of guessing at beyond the most vague. "I'm used to ranged combat -- you'd be amazed at how much it helps when you can fly. But generally the battles I've been in have required less subtlety and more direct application of overwhelming force. So it mattered less if the enemy knew they were about to get roasted, and more that they didn't manage to stop you before you did it.

"Kind of miss those days, here on the ship, actually..."

She figures she was clear enough. "I tend to mix it up a bit. You already know my problem, so I tend to be a bit stealthier about things." Or she mixes it in with physical combat. "Still, can't deny that seeing a bunch of gangers scatter after someone lobs a hefty powerball into their midst isn't satisfying."

"You get used to it. Just means you've got to be less obvious about your magic." For example, no one had even noticed the layers of protection laid around her home yet... Nothing magical was crossing her threshold without her knowing of it, and that's assuming they were powerful enough to get in without her permission.

"Well... you've given me the honor of a demonstration, so shall I return the favor?" He rose, flexing his fingers and wrists in preparation. "I do take requests!"

She shrugs, gesturing to the courtyard outside of the house. "Go wild. Just don't damage anything of mine." Her mana barriers should soak up the damage, but she doesn't want to risk him somehow overwhelming them with a spell.

All right then... let's go a little flashy.

Aibghalien rose, turned to face the courtyard, then spoke a swift word of power and made a few gestures. No mana channeled through his body, if she happened to want to assense him; merely a direct and focused manipulation of magical energy. Abruptly the air coalesced into a massive wall of iron (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/wallOfIron.htm), ten feet by ten feet. (He'd held way back on the size, for the sake of the next part of the trick.)

The wall quivered, then shuddered, then slowly tilted, leaning perilously towards them and picking up speed with every inch it leaned. Almost lazily, the elf pointed at it. "Disintegrate (http://www.d20srd.org/srd/spells/disintegrate.htm)," he told it, as a green line leaped from his finger to the wall -- which promptly vanished in a swirl of dust.

"I hope that was a little impressive," he said with a smile and a slight bow. "I'd hate to have shown off so flagrantly for nothing."

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Sorry for the wait, chat is evil and keeps distracting me.

And then I went to my weekly RP game!

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