RP:Witch Is Which?

From HollowWiki

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc


Summary: Muzo and Talyara make sour first impressions when a certain mischievous spellbook reveals an offensive depiction of the aforementioned Taly, a witch. The uncouth slip provokes a debate about the morality of witches and the unbiased understanding of other races or creeds. Unable to see eye to eye, the two part on unpleasant terms.


Red Ogre Inn

Muzo sits at a table by himself looking careworn. His trusty spellbook lays open beside him, idly flipping its own pages. Silently, the naga stirs his glass of tomato juice with a celery stick. Unlike most of his race, the scientist makes no attempt to conceal his ophidian nature. He is an anthropomorph, and occasionally his forked tongue flicks out from his boa snout. Great black eyes stare unblinkingly downward, looking straight through the table. His tail, all 23 feet of it, sprawls out about, weaving haphazardly between tables. For clothing, he wears only a set of scholarly robes adorned with the crest of Alithrya's royal academy, the knotted ouroborous of its college of alchemy. The wait staff shoot him concerned glances from the far corner near the kitchens and mutter, pointing.


Talyara had been scouring the area for ingredients for her salves and tinctures. So involved had she been she hadn't realized she meandered into Larket, and much to her dismay, it had begun to rain. With an elven curse slipped from her lips and she made a run for the nearest establishment she could think of which was the inn. Through the door she bursts, her clothes damp and sticking to her skin. Her wavy hair was dark and heavy, framing her face. The witch leaves a puddle where she stands much to the dismay of the workers; so with an apologetic smile she quickly weaves her way to a vacant table adjacent to where Muzo sits.


Muzo could easily have never noticed Talyara's arrival, but as fate would have it, he is startled when a few chilly drops of water wall on his tail. It involuntarily jerks, noisily knocking over the chair next to her. "Eeep!" Muzo gasps in genuine, mortified shock. "Ah-oh-mah-mah-my," he stammers and slithers up to "stand" aright, "t-terribly sorry, ma'am." Glass still in hand (he's forgotten to set it down) Muzo glides over to stoop and lift the chair back into place. Behind him, the spellbook flutters up like an overlarge buttefly to follow, floating curiously along. "Do excuse the," the naga indicates the excessive tail, "inordinate occupation. Seems I've claimed half the floor for myself, ah-he-ha-ha-ha," a tittering laugh burbles, quivering out of him. Quietly, he clears his throat, "yes, ahm." Here, Muzo mentally hiccups. What does etiquette dictate here, again? He's rather trapped, not sure what's supposed to happen next or how, pray tell, his embarassing mistake can resolve itself without undue offense.


Talyara had thrown herself rather harshly down in the chair so she momentarily thinks her less than graceful approach knocked down the chair and she is likewise leaning down to intercept the chair when Muzo goes to do the same and she nearly crashes into him. Emerald green eyes widen in surprise--she had never seen naga before--and she it likewise finds herself embarrassed and scrambling back to her seat. "Oh! I'm so sorry, sir! Was that me?" She asks with a slight wrinkle to her nose and she quickly clears her throat. Her eyes then shift to the fluttering book and she cants her head to the side curiously.


Muzo freezes, jaw agape, needle fangs glimmering in the lobby's ambient light. "Ah, oh, you, uhm, had to have been me?" Though, truly, the snake feels certain he knocked over the chair, how can he so rude as to insist. "Best, ah," he looks up and, sure enough, catches the eye of a nosy waiter. The two exchange looks, and Muzo urges the server into action with an expectant nod. Muzo takes the fateful chair for himself and "sits" beside her. Formulae, as is the book's name embossed both on its cover and spine, flutters down to orbit Talyara once, twice, thrice before landing before her with a quiet thump. "Formulae!" Muzo quietly reprimands the book for its brazen entry, and he covers up the urgent tone with a saccharine, apologetic laugh. "Uncharacteristically eager behavior for the tome. Must find you especially intriguing. What is it you do, madam, ah..." Had she introduced herself? Had HE introduced HIMSELF? Oh Muzo, you're stumbling over yourself at every turn. Thank goodness, here's the waiter to smooth things over.


Talyara settles back into her seat and offers a kind smile as Muzu takes the seat beside her. She busies herself with her hair, running her fingers through her hair to undo the tangles. The witch lets out a little gasp of surprise when the book begins to flutter around her before landing atop the table before her. The hot chocolate comes as another welcome surprise and she eagerly wraps her hands around it and brings it to her face to inhale the sweet scent. "Thank you, uh..." she didn't know his name. "I'm Taly," she offers to him, extending her hand towards him. "And what do I do? Hmm. I don't know what I do really. I guess I heal, maybe?"


Muzo accepts the offered hand with slender, scaly digits. ".Muzo, no surname. Delighted, Taly." He takes his own hot chocolate and blows carefully. "A healer?" Muzo's tongue flicks in interest. "Find myself inching closer and closer to the very same role." Formulae flops open to a woodcut of Muzo in surgical gear, tools in hand, as he works through an opening in a sheet, the shapes beneath indistinct. The opposite page is similar, showing Muzo holding a beaker up to the light, looking scholarly and sanctimonious. "Yes, thank you," the naga shoots his spellbook a tense grin, his endlessly black eyes narrowing in gentle warning. Formulae reluctantly shuts again, only once its sure Taly's gotten a look. Muzo sips the hot chocolate. "Keeps me wretchedly busy. Have scarcely spoken to a soul in ages." Ah, and the careworn creases knit his scaly brow once more. "Now realize I'm being forward. Talkative. Hope you don't mind. Would guess you're expecting someone, wouldn't want to keep you." His tail curls uneasily around, but he doesn't budge from his seat and simply stares over the mug's edge in hopeful silence.


Talyara ’s eyes brighten at the mention of Muzo being a healer and those emerald hued irises flick down to look at the pages that the magical book open to. A small smile curves itself on her lips and she nods in appreciation. “Ah, you seem to be doing a more scientific approach. I use a different, more natural style.” Talyara pulls a shoulder bag from around her body and plops it on the table being careful to avoid her own mug of hot chocolate. Once open, the witch sticks her arm, yes her entire arm, into the vessel up to her shoulder (despite the bag being only about the length of her forearm). “Here we go,” she says pulling out various glass jars of salves and tinctures alike as well as several pouches of herbs, and finally her own bound book. “I use herb and crystals and well my own power to heal.” To his mention of meeting someone she chuckles softly and shakes her head. “No, not me. I don’t have many friends. I was out collecting items and was simply seeking some relief from the rain. Am I interrupting you?"


Muzo double blinks as Taly's arm disappears, and he nearly spills his chocolate when she procures a plethora of potions and poultices. "Zounds," he exclaims, impressed. Somewhere, far and faint, nagging voice tells Muzo he's seen this kind of healer's kit before, but he is much too busy making cordial conversation. "Very few friends, myself," the researcher commiserates or, perhaps rather, relates at least, "so no, no interruption at all." Unable quite to resist, he picks up one of the tinctures and tilts it this way and that before, true to Formulae's observational sketch, holding it up to the light. "Hemlock? No, no," the naga's tongue flicks once, twice, "wild carrot? Useless without my kits, ha-ha-ha," he sets down his chocolate to hold the jar in both hands, examining it with determination.


Talyara :: A grin tugs at Talyara’s lips as she notes the similarities between the naga next to her person and the sketch she witnessed in the book. She attempts to hide her amusement by taking a sip from her mug before leaning over to tap the first tincture. “It’s skullcap. It helps with anxiety, muscle tension, and restlessness. Which admittedly, I struggle with,” she adds in an offhand sort of way complete with a small shrug.


Muzo looks over at Talyara with a huff. He was just about to guess that, I swear. The snake holds the vial so he can look through it at her. "You suffer? From all three?" His eye dramatically magnifies through the glass. When he offer's back the scullcap, Muzo's staring at her forehead, as though he might be able to see right into her brain, too. "Wouldn't have gathered from the first impression. Ah, of course," he laughs at himself with a wide grin, "the tincture. Must be working quite well." Muzo eyes narrow again, this time in amusement.


Talyara tilts her head to the side and gives a bit of a smile, although there is some sadness there. “It’s been a rough few months for me,” she says gently before taking up her hot chocolate once more and opting to busy herself with it for a few moments. “I usually just use lavender oil for my anxiety, plus it helps me sleep.” Talyara nudges a jar towards Muzo, this one seems to be a greenish paste of some sort. “Can you guess what this is?” She asks with an arched brow.


Muzo mirrors Taly the moment she reaches for her cocoa, holding it for as long as she does and waiting, quietly, for her to resume. The jar then scoots his way, and, of course, he takes it, bobbing his neck peer at the paste from different angles. "Oh dear, I told you, really just terribly useless," Muzo's tongue flicks as he tries to guess, and a good-humored look of defeat comes over him. "Dear, oh," he slides it back and hazards a joke (in poor taste) for his guess, "eye of newt?"


Talyara cannot hide her amusement and she quickly covers her mouth to giggle, a shy habit of hers before giving her head a small shake. “No I save that for my most intense rituals,” she teases back with a wink. “No this is a simple balm for sore muscles made from wintergreen, a type of mint. It has a cooling sensation so it’s really relieving. I’ve been going through a ton of it lately since I’ve been refurbishing the barn."


Muzo grins along as she continues the joke, forcing down a bubble of suspicion as it surfaces. The hot cocoa provides a welcome prop. "Wintergreen, of course." A tongue flick confirms this in hindsight. "You sound like quite the apothecary, Taly." Formulae flips open to show Talyara standing over a fizzing cauldron with a manic expression and a laughably exaggerated nose. Muzo flicks the book shut and snatches it over to his side of the table. "Expect! You've had ample time to hone your craft. Seem quite able and knowing."


Talyara manages to snag a look at the drawing in Formulae before Muzo manages to snap it shut and pull it on his side of the table. The smile on her lips easily fades into a small frown and her hands comes up to cover her nose. “I don’t think my nose is -that- big,” she mumbles softly and averts her gaze to look at the other patrons for a few moments. “Yes, well, I’ve been studying for as long as I can remember,” she answers quietly, fingers tracing the rim of the mug.


Muzo stuffs Formulae out of sight in his robes. "Couldn'tpossiblyknowwhatyoumean," he blurts in muttered hurry, hastily straightening the collar of his robe and attempting to act as though nothing had happened. He is not very good at it. "Marvelous. Indeed. You, ah, yes, certainly show your skill." A sip of cocoa. "Expect I could learn a great deal. From your ah, tincturing. And balming. Not like enbalming, ahaehehe, just, making balm. Ordinary balm, for medicine."


Talyara adopts a rather cool expression, her arms slowly crossing over her chest as she fixes Muzo was an unblinking stare. Unfortunately for him, she is an empath which means she is quite adept at sensing when someone is lying and interpreting their feelings. She has honed her abilities enough to set up a wall but in this instance she lowers them down. “I don’t feel as though you are being entirely truthful with me,” she says in a quiet, almost disappointed tone. Slowly, the witch begins to gather her tinctures and balms, dropping them into her bag where an abundance of clattering can be heard, as if there were several more bottles out of sight.


Muzo feels his "incognito" facade crumble into a tense grin. "Forgive Formulae's forward nature. It has a habit, sometimes, of saying whatever pops into its mind." This much is true. The spellbook, though useful by-and-large, had a rare habit of making itself quite inconvenient. Like right now, for instance. Muzo's attention flickers between the vanishing potions and what Muzo would wager is a look of disapproval, if he were a wagering snake.


Talyara doesn’t say anything for some time, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she considers the apology and where to go from this moment. “What was it saying?” She eventually say,” leaning her elbows on the table and flicking her gaze to Muzo’s face. “With the big nose, the cauldron, the grotesquely delighted face?"


Muzo hesitates, ophidian jaw parted, as he searches for the correct answer to Talyara's very direct question. "That," his voice is rather small, "it's had a moment of intuition, and it believes," Muzo has to clear his throat,"excuse me, that you are a practitioner." He adds more quietly still. "Of witchcraft." Dark eyes hastily scan the faces of the staff, making sure his answer was a private one.


Talyara studies Muzo for an uncomfortable amount of time while remaining silent. She had heard whispers of witches being persecuted as of late. She could easily lie herself, or at least deny what intuition the magical book seemed to possess. But after a long, deliberate swallow of her hot chocolate which drained the entire thing she gives a curt nod. “Well, it would be correct in its assumption."


Muzo looks down into the empty mug of cocoa, and a difficult silence settles over the pair of acquaintances that had, such a very short time ago, stumbled upon one another in what had at first seemed like serendipity. Muzo finishes his cocoa in more measured gulps that stretch the painful void in conversation. "That's good, and a very interesting coincidence," a deep breath brings back the snake's center, "as it happens to be a temporary interest of mine. Formulae's digested quite a bit of material on the topic, you see," a single, silent laugh shakes his diagram, "and it must have been eager to show off."


Talyara :: “Show off, hm?” Talyara says slowly with a cant of her head once more, leaning back in her chair so that the from legs lift from the ground. “So according to you and your book, witches spend copious amounts of time cackling over a cauldron with their big noses?” She asks, unconsciously touching her nose once more. “What an injustice to witches everywhere. It seems your book has been reading too many fairy tales."


Muzo takes this to mean that witches, in fact, do NOT do these things in any significant measure. Or so says a witch. Hmm. Well it's proving a culturally enriching encounter either way. "Truly meant no offense," by the incredibly offensive illustration. "Understand some controversy surrounds the subject. Might explain quite a bit if I admitted," Muzo points at his own chest, "this is my first time meeting a," live, "witch in person. Could perhaps take the opportunity to, ah, well, amend any, ah, ill conclusions." Subconsciously, his hand mimics her gesture, brushing his own nose.


Talyara continues to balance precariously on the back legs of her chair as she considers Muzo’s explanation with a thoughtful hmm. “So why are you so interested in witches anyway? We are just, you know, regular people,” she says looking down at her person to ensure that she is speaking the truth. She should probably shut up, truly, but living in hiding for several months has its drawbacks. That, and this little witch has a tendency to put a lot more trust in people than she should.


Muzo clears his throat when Taly refers to witches at "regular people" in a way to suggest that he knows otherwise. "There are some who doubt that notion. Normal or exceptional, the truth about witches cannot lay hidden in the shadows forever." He smiles and adds a laugh for cordial effect, but his eyes betray the attempted mirth. Talyara is being evaluated. "After all," naga leans in, his tongue flicking, "there would be no use calling a witch a witch if they didn't have," he hesitates, considering his words carefully, "distinguishing characteristics. A matter of plain language, no?"


Talyara lets her chair fall back to the ground with a soft thud and narrows her eyes ever so slightly at the naga sitting across from her. “If they choose to keep their ‘truth’ hidden, that is entirely up to them.” Despite the laughter, something wasn’t sitting completely well with Talyara, something about the energy seemed suddenly off. Still, besides the slight shift in her eyes, nothing in her demeanor has changed. “Witch is also an extremely broad term. No two are the same…just as no two elves are the same as I’m sure no two nagas are."


Muzo nods along as Talyara speaks. "Of course, of course, though," his nose turns up, and he raises a finger in tandem with a counterpoint, "expect you would still, naturally, call an elf an elf and a naga a naga. There cannot imaginably be any kind of," the grin broadens, this time in genuine amusement at the notion, "any kind of hidden malice in attempting to identify a thing," the smile fades, "or a being for precisely what it is. There is no helping that, for better or worse, we are separated by certain qualia."


Talyara feels her lips twitch in the smaller of frowns before leaning forward a bit. “I cannot help the fact that I am a witch just as much as I cannot help that I am a half elf. It is who I am. I runs through my veins. It -is- who I am.” For something to do, Talyara takes up her mug once more and sips from the luke warm hot chocolate. “Witches aren’t inherently evil or bad simply because they identify as a witch.” Talk’s frown deepens slightly. “I dislike malicious witches just as much as anyone else. I am no stranger to what they are capable of."


Muzo cannot completely hide the impatience in his expression as Talyara objects. "Please, as you yourself pointed out," the naga raises his hand, palm toward her in a halting gesture, "no two are the same. That you, individually, are not evil, is a very, very minute testimony." Muzo isn't the only one watching her now, and some of the inn staff have taken notice of their conversation, even though they dare not approach or even, if she challenges them, meet Taly's gaze. "No reason," Muzo goes on, "to take a defensive stance. You haven't been accused of anything." Yet.


Talyara ’s eyebrows shoot up in an impressive arch. She can sense the tension in the room—would have been able to even if she hadn’t be possessed with empathic abilities by the way side glances were given to the pair or the hushed mutterings that have followed. “Excuse me, -Sir-,” she says, a hint of anger flooding her tone. “You are questioning the essence of who I am, who my sister was, who my family was, simply because we are witches. It seems to me you are blinded by fear of the unknown and instead of researching with an unbiased perspective, your mind has been made up by assumptions.” Talyara huffs slightly, bouncing her leg anxiously. "Please, enlighten me if I’m incorrect in my hypothesis,” she invites Muzo with a flourish of her hand.


Muzo sighs in disappointment and looks down into his empty mug of cocoa. "That you should take such offense at unbiased inquiry is," he stands, pushing in his chair with the side of his tail, "concerning. Much more concerning that your self-proclaimed witchdom," a waiter has already arrived to take their cups away and change the tablecloth, "has already come to stand in the way of reasonable discourse. Evil or good, whichever you may be, your self-centered objections will do nothing to halt the march of progress. The truth emerges in time, and," he adds primly, "I eagerly welcome the unknown with a mind devoid of prejudice. It seems only one of us, here, is afraid of what might be uncovered in the course of... reasonable inquiry." He snaps, and Formulae jumps into his waiting hand, snapping shut with a thud. "Have yet, myself, to draw my final conclusions. Will admit, however, it will be difficult to prevent this present anecdotal encounter from unpleasantly clouding my bias."


Talyara :: “If you cannot understand my defensiveness, then it seems you lack empathy, Sir, something I, unfortunately, have an excess of. I have been open and honest with you, a complete stranger, who carries around a seemingly magical book which drew me as ugly and menacing. I have explained how I am healer and seek to help people, especially the ailing.” Talyara sighs herself and it sends an errant lock floating across her face. “I am not afraid of you uncovering anything about me,” she says a bit quieter, making sure to meet Muzo’s eye should he allow her to. "I have nothing to hide and I am unashamed of being witch. Bad people exist in every species, in every walk of life. Witchcraft, is no different.” Talyara stands herself, smoothing out her blouse as she does. “If you have magical problems, I feel bad for you, Hun. I have ninety nine problems, but being a witch isn’t one."


Muzo meets Talyara's eyes. "Then you are a good witch." Exasperated, for rhetorical reasons and a lack of argumentative stamina, Muzo concedes this particular presupposition and goes on. "Urge you to consider the broader question at hand. Are you the exception or the rule?" Muzo is already looking to the stairs leading up to the rooms, and he is apparently eager to retire (or escape) to his quarters. "Don't require you to answer. Would take anything you offer now as a purely emotional reaction without enough rational weight to warrant consideration."


Talyara scoffs and rolls her eyes, back already to Muzo as she plans her escape through the crowded room where no one is pretending to not listen at this point. “Good job at being dismissive,” she compliments the naga sarcastically. And because she actually -is- emotional at having her identity questioned by a man she just met, she purposefully flicks her hand towards the door where a sudden gust of wind slams it open with a bang. The witch weaves her way through the patrons and out the door in a rather (unnecessary) dramatic exit.


Muzo watches the exit with a subdued manner then, as his conscience demands, the naga only waits long enough to be sure Talyara is well on her way before exiting, not to his room, but to the fort, where Talyara's name may be added to a growing list.