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Merlin et Nimue (Story x Cyrano)

Back in the smaller room with the door shut, Ever practically slid right down to the floor in her exhaustion instead of putting forth the last remnants of strength into readying herself for bed. She managed to push away from the door and peeled the tiny white lacy garment from her body, freezing as it pulled on its way over her chest and shoulders, before finally being discarded on the ground. Naked in the still quiet of the room, Ever closed her eyes and stretched before dragging the much larger shirt up and over herself.

Finally, she could breathe.

Still without any underwear on, the shirt at least covered her more thoroughly than the dress had. By now, she was also mostly dry, though her hair was still damp and curling around her shoulders. Groaning, she crawled into the bed, kicking up the sheets and comforter, then cocooning herself inside of it.

Despite the fact that her head was still a whirl with questions and her eyes were wide open, staring at the painting that seemed to dominate the small room -- it was the last thing on her mind before sleep rolled over her like a steamroller, dragging her down into its depths. Ever slept deeply, dreamless, and even snored.

And, boy, did she snore well into the morning until it was encroaching on the afternoon before she stirred from her burrito of blankets and sheets. Her head felt like mush and her body ache, and the edges of her deep sleep still clung to her as she fought to open her eyes and stir further. If she was being honest, she probably could have slept for another day or two with how she felt, but somehow managed to slither to the edge of the bed and drop her feet to the floor.

Bare toes curled over bare. Ever sat up, rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes, then groaned as her muscles screamed at her when she got to her feet. Barely dragging her fingers through the mane of hair that had fluffed up and turned wild in her sleep, Ever stumbled out of the room to face the music of her current situation.

Which at least woke her more fully as anxiety curled in her belly and her memories became more than just a fuzzy series of events into a nightmare. What was worse was the fact that her throat felt swollen and her nose was sniffling. Getting sick hadn’t been on her list of things to do today, nor was it on her list of things that she had to fight through. Though at least she could still smell the breakfast that wafted through the entire cabin, causing her stomach to grumble its malcontent at her not having fed it since yesterday morning.

“Hey…” The sheepish greeting was followed up with a tentative once over of her surroundings, seen now with new eyes, and during the day, and without the panic that had been eating at her from yesterday. “So… you didn’t kill me in my sleep,” she joked hoarsely, then cleared her throat. “Uh, so thanks for that, but … well, it’s been weird so… should we talk about it?”
 
Jacob kept his back to her as she entered into the space where the living room and the kitchenette met with the hallway. It was against his natural instincts, heaving learned long ago never to turn his back on someone that he did not fully trust, but it was a necessary negligence in order to establish that trust later. If he was always acting like a man who did not trust, a man who was ready for enemies to appear from the very shadows within his own home, then he was a man who had lost what was worth fighting for.

his hand gripped the handle of the frying pan dexterously and flipped a pancake the size of a plate into the air, watched it turn end over end twice and then caught it back on the frying pan. Judging the pancake on the pan for the moment he decided it was done and scraped it off onto a pile of other pancakes. With a sideways gesture of the flat palm of his hand Jacob sent all that they needed for breakfast floating towards the table. Bacon, scrambled eggs, cheese, pancakes, butter, syrup, forks, knives, mugs for coffee, coffee pot, buttermilk, cream, sugar and additional plates all floated to the table being set down on knit cushions that prevented the hot plats from burning the wooden table.

He made no reaction to her comment about killing her in her sleep, the joke was kind of lame. "Have a seat." He said gesturing to the seat at the end of the table closest to the front of the house as he walked past her and took his seat at the opposite end of the table. he started to pile onto his plate, taking three pancakes, six slices of bacon and a large helping of eggs, adding in a mug of coffee and a cup of rich buttermilk. He gave a gesture to her as if to say 'go ahead and eat' and then began cutting into his pancakes.

"You mentioned having questions last night. I'm not opposed to a good bit of conversation over breakfast. By the time that we're done eating the rain will have stopped. Then you'll be able to make a very important, if informed, decision. But first, the food and conversation." Jacob said lifting the pot of coffee up, " Coffee?" He asked offering to pour her a cup.
 
It was all so domestic, Ever thought. The smell wafting through the entire cabin like something from a home. Her stomach that had been doing backflips now rumbled hungrily instead as the mixture of scents found her nose. Only she didn’t move until he said the words, and on wooden feet, she made her way to the table he had indicated. Sinking down into a chair, Ever placed her hands in her lap and sat up straight, just as conscientious about wearing nothing but his shirt as she had with the tiny dress from the night before.

At least the shirt was voluminous and covered her down to the knees almost and was comfortable besides.

And she had to commend herself for only jerking a little when the contents of what he had been preparing for their breakfast floated across the room and settled on the table. Ever stared at his offerings with a bug eyed stare for a moment, then jerked her attention back to him.

“You should consider opening a bed and breakfast,” she tried to joke again in an attempt to lighten the mood. Obviously, her poor humor from earlier had no effect on the man.

Her attention turned back down to the food and upon shifting her hands out from under the table, she picked up the plate that was waiting for her and tentatively added a couple of strips of bacon, only to pause and stare at him from across the table, “This isn’t going to get up and try and fly away once I’ve eaten it, right?”

The question didn’t stop her from spooning some of the eggs and a pancake onto her own plate, which was significantly less than what he had applied to his own. Ever focused her attention on eating, trying her best not to just shovel it down and to at least act somewhat ladylike with her tableside mannerisms. While she could control how fast she ate, she couldn’t control the fact that her eyes kept rolling up and over to the man, watching him with the scrutiny of a cat. He obviously didn’t go around people very much; he had a preciseness that reminded her of an old timey school teacher.

And with that thought, she giggled under her breath, hiding it in the mug of her coffee once she had thrust out the mug and let him fill it, taken black. Guiltily, she dropped her eyes back down, pretending to be interested in the food on her plate.

“So I’m not dead,” she commented slowly, lowering the mug and peering at him. “And I’m not in a coma, and magic is real.” Conversation, not questions. She still spoke slowly, as if she were still trying to grasp the concept. “And I’m not having a really fucked up fever dream. Oh, and the picture of that woman in your spare bedroom is creepy,” she pointed out last.
 
His face twitched slightly in a way that might be taken as a sign of humor at her comment about opening a bed and breakfast and her question about food flying away earned her a raised eyebrow. He was a man who could enjoy humor, within certain settings perhaps too much, but he did not show his emotions on his face as easily as he once had. He was a man who had friends, though he rarely went to visit them, and had chosen the hermit's life partially for his own good and partially for the good of the world.

The use of magic requires a large amount of energy, both the mystical energy that existed within and around them, and the caloric energy that powered all mortal bodies. It took much effort to keep a magic user well fed and happy and Jacob had prepared enough food for both of them to replenish any energy they had expelled yesterday and to stock up for future expenditures. There was a reason that only the wealthiest and most powerful of nobles kept a wizard or alchemist on retainer during the days where such things were done openly, though even today one could find a member of the Council of Mages in the shadows around people of power, if one were to look closely enough. Never someone with a great amount of potential for the Art, but someone with the interpersonal skills needed for such a position and trusted enough by the Senior Council to act as a liaison of sorts between the two worlds.

Jacob took his own coffee with plenty of cream and sugar, he had picked up the habit of drinking his coffee with plenty of garnishes around the time that the habit of adding sugar and cream to coffee became something more than rich man's luxury. He had many a trail-side cup of black coffee in his day, and like an old man who now had access to a remote and refused to get up and change the channels, he did not give up his little luxuries easily. he nodded slightly from each of her comments, no questions rising to the conversation as yet, though he looked up when she described his painting of Nimue and Merlin as 'creepy.'

"Creepy?" He asked with a hint of mirth in his voice as he took a bite of juicy bacon. " My painting has been called a lot of things over the years but that's a new one, what makes you say that?" He asked, the humor of him being the one to ask the first question at their breakfast table conversation not lost on him.
 
Ever knew nothing of the ways of magic. She was still somewhat convinced that this was some sort of delusion, even though that feeling was slowly being shaken away now that her night’s rest had done away with the adrenaline from last night. She had even forgotten, at least for the moment, that she was supposed to get back to her car and find her way …

Well, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Ever had been running away, but she hadn’t had a destination. She just knew that she’d had to leave.

Shoulders trembling, she turned her focus back to the breakfast that he had prepared, then with a sheepish glance up from beneath her lashes, tried to be as casual as possible about going for seconds. As someone who had struggled through life by refusing help and insisting on her independence, relying on someone for even food and shelter made her uncomfortable.

“Can I at least pay you for my stay here?” She blurted out suddenly. Surely her cash had dried out by now. “Or… I don’t know, give you a favor that you can cash in for whatever? I mean.. You’ve done a lot already when you really didn’t have to, and I’ve been accusing you of all kinds of things. I don’t think you’re a serial killer anymore, unless this is a Ted Bundy type situation where you pretend to be a kind hermit in the woods and your apprentices are all buried in the back of your cabin somewhere,” she blurted out anymore, tongue too loose for its own good, then tittered nervously and dropped her attention back down to her food.

“...And it’s just a creepy painting. The woman’s eyes seem to be watching you. You know like old portraits seem like they do.”

She cleared her throat once she had finished off her second helping of eggs and bacon, with another pancake to boot and pushed the plate off to the side so that she could clench her hands together on the table in front of her. Her lower lip she dragged between her teeth and chewed nervously as she considered him.

“But OK. I’ll get right to it. What … happened last night? What is all … this?”
 
"My floors could be cleaner." Jacob said almost under his breath whens he asked if there was anything to do to pay for her stay. He didn't say it in any kind of passive-aggressive way, just an observation like one might make about the weather . Though in this case it was the weather mixed with her feet that had made the mess. Though he wasn't mad. If she stuck around and came on as his apprentice she would be doing plenty of chores around the Valley and the cabin to keep herself busy and earn her keep.

He thought about her comment for a moment, he had never been able to get the eyes right early into his painting career and that was one of the paintings he'd always thought he'd done the worst on. he'd never noticed the eyes following him, but then again she had been very tired. That's how he rationalized not realizing that there was something off about his painting.

Jacob had eaten his way through his portion of food in the time it had taken her to finish her seconds, he took another slice of bacon from the dish and chewed into it as she cleared her throat. Her question, questions actually could be answered either in a very simple way or in a very complicated way. One would answer the question properly and one would prompt more questions. But that was what you got when you asked vague questions. Especially when about something as complicated as magicv.

"Magic is real, we've established that, and if we can just include that in your list of accepted adn unquestioned truths about reality this will go a lot quicker. Magical energy sometimes builds up in certain humans who have an affinity for magical ability. Because of magic's inherent qualities modern technology does not work around magic. Which is why your car broke down. While you were searching for help, your body tapped into that magical energy and performed a spell that is called Need, bringing you to what you needed most at that point in time. In this case, shelter. Your spell brought you twenty-five miles and through some very powerful wards that are meant to keep people and things away from me and my cabin. That tells me that you have a lot of potential for magical ability and I would like you to stay here and become my apprentice so that you can use your talents to their full potential. Now I'm sure that doesn't even begin to answer all of your questions, so feel free to ask away." Jacob said gesturigng with his hands to suggest he was an open book while taking a sip of coffee.
 
His stating that his floors could be cleaner stopped her cold from whatever she might have said or done next. Whether he had meant it or not, she had heard him. White hot guilt spiraled and slapped across her cheeks in an embarrassed blush as green eyes darted away from his face to the floor. He was right, regardless of intent; she had made a mess of his hardwood, which made her a shitty guest already.

“I’ll clean it up before I leave,” she said hastily, and less under her breath than his own words. “I didn’t mean to,” she added, then regretted her choice in words. There was a tinge of fear, mingled with guilt; a projection from whatever she had left behind and landed her at his doorstep in the first place.

Her eyes darted from the tracked mud that had hardened and made a mess on his floor to the dishes on the table, making a mental note to clean up this as well. And to leave him some cash once she got her stuff together for the inconvenience of everything.

All thoughts of which were pushed aside when he started speaking of magic. And how she had gotten there in the first place. And that how audacious it all sounded, there was a niggling in her mind that whispered the truth of his words whether she liked it or not. She had done things through her years of life that was questionable, things that she had been unable to explain how they had happened.

“...What do you mean stay here and be your apprentice? Does this include teaching me how to disappear forever from my shitty ex?” She meant the question as a self-deprecating joke. But as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth, she clapped a hand over her mouth and clicked her jaw so hard it hurt. Stress lines strained the corners of her eyes and her nerves jumped at having admitted to her lie. Pretending to yawn behind the hand covering her mouth, she lowered it slowly and laughed nervously. “...My husband and I have been together for I don’t even remember how long and he still stalks me.”

But even that sounded deflated and lame to her own ears. Enough that her eyes shifted away and she shifted the remnants of breakfast on her plate absently. So she asked another question, “Assuming I’m buying into this, what kind of magic do you mean? Is it Harry Potter or, like, ...American Horror Story? If you had to scale it. Or is it in the middle like a CW teen drama show?"
 
Jacob raised an eyebrow when she slipped up on her own story about what exactly she was running from and what her home life was like. He did not call her out on the lie though he allowed a slight non-verbal cue to indicate that he had caught her lie but was not going to push it further. So long as it did not interfere with his life or the instruction he was offering her then he was not planning on prying into her past and her life. As she talked he took further sips from his coffee cup, attempting to convey a sense that, despite his passive aggressive comment about the floors, that this was a casual conversation for him.

A look of bemusement crossed his face when she started listing pop culture features that were nearly entirely alien to him, but presumably involved magic in some way. Of course, he had heard about all of them through some of his apprentices who were better able to keep up on pop culture, even when they could not particularly watch it due to the way that magic interacted with modern technology. He had encountered the Harry Potter series, but he had no idea what American Horror Story was, or what exactly a CW teen drama show entailed. Setting his coffee cup down he gave her a slight smile.

"I would like you to consider for a moment, that I have lived in this cabin for a long time, and that I don't own a television. And that, while I have heard good reviews of the Harry Potter series, I'm not exactly in the target demographic. Though, I believe I can answer the crux of your question." He paused for a moment to allow her to consider his words before he continued.

"Magic is a force that exists in the world around us, as you are well aware now, magic interacts with different creatures in different wars. Some creatures are almost entirely of magic and others are almost entirely mundane. Humans are liminal beings, straddling the line between the mundane and the transmundane. Many have the natural talent to access the Arcanum and transfer the potential energy into actual results in the world. There are eight schools of magic that these actual results fall into: abjuraction, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy and transmutation. Every mage has a 'knack' or 'speciality' where one of these eight categories icomes naturally to them in a way that is different than how thye learn and engage witht he other schools."
 
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