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Allumin is a bit worried when instead of receiving a reply via Sending he is waved over, but it is at least confirmation so he heads over towards him with light, moderately paced strides. He tries (futilely) to tell himself that it's fine, just be confident, no reason to be insecure or embarrassed because practice makes perfect after all.

He's still nervous. Especially after forgetting to count his words.

Don't bring it up, just move on, don't bring it up, just move o--

"Was there something wrong with the spell?" It's out of his mouth before he can stop himself, coming to a halt in front of the older mage. His hand shoots up to cover his mouth again as his face turns red. "Sorry - you don't have to answer that. Hello - good morning?"

Marcus' expression

doesn't really do anything, stoic by force of habit and difficult to read, and he is silent through the disjointed switch between query and greeting and question. Studying the rifter, undoubtedly. There's a jag of scarring down one side of his face that doesn't make him any friendlier.

But when he speaks, it's fairly patient as he says, "I don't know that spell, so I can't say if there was anything wrong with it. What I will say is you'll want to anticipate an averse response to it, in people of this land. Even other mages.

"Did you feel it fit to use magic on me, because I'm a mage? Or would you have done, even if I wasn't?"

Oh, he has made a mistake and that is very clear.

Not with the spell at least, he can guess that it worked. No, this is a social mistake, a poor judgement call for which he has no reasonable excuse in the eyes of this land and its relationship with magic. It's hard to completely overcome how casually he has used magic before overnight - over many nights, actually.

"I thought..." Part of being better is owning the mistake instead of just running away, he tells himself, just say your piece and accept whatever happens.

"I thought that it would not be an issue, and I simply wanted to know if it would work here because it can be useful." He takes in a breath. "I can see now that I was mistaken."

"Aye," Marcus agrees, and then allows, "Well, it might be useful, if it works as you expect. When used with care, among those friendly to you."

Which, he thinks, could be a select group indeed, and he's not even sure he'd count himself among them. His own revulsion from even replying had been immediate and real, but that's not for this man to worry about so much as Marcus to consider it later. Some knot of tension is working its way to release from between his shoulder blades.

He turns the staff in his hands to hold in both, a neutral and relaxed crossways grasp. "There's a practice called blood magic, in this world," he says. "It's heretic, by any decent standard." And this word, 'heretic', falls neutral off Marcus' tongue, like it's more a fact of life than a moral sentiment. "And I'm not accusing you of doing it now, but when it comes to any magic that grasps at the minds and physical bodies of men, it would be easy to mistake it thus.

"But I would caution against the levelling of any kind of magic on people without their say so, no matter who they are. Does that all make sense, serah?"

There are things that he could say in justification, but rather than do so he simply bites his tongue and nods. He shamefully glances away at the magic that Marcus describes. Unfortunately a good number of his combat spells are such, which only make him worry more about the developing narrative that seems to be 'you can be a mage, just not that kind.' He does his best to push away some invasive thoughts following this train of thought and looks back to Marcus again. Allumin is not sure if this man's composure throughout this exchange makes his nervousness better or worse.

It also does not help that the term blood magic has him thinking of a similar sounding practice back home. Then, by association, the perfectly reasonable people he met who practiced them (by his standards at least). He's already gotten enough suspicion with how he's mentioned demons casually before without thinking, he needs to not go down this road as well in defense of something. Better to simply stay focused on this moment here and why he even came than get distracted - more than he already has.

"It does. I apologize." Despite all the words he's holding back, it's said sincerely. "I will refrain from using such magic in the future without a clear agreement first."

It's his instinct that there's some words being left out, maybe whole sentiments attached, but it's good enough that what Allumin chooses to say doesn't sound like a lie.

"Alright," Marcus says. "You wanted to learn spellcasting with a staff."

He moves backwards, a gesture that sort of opens up the field a little and invites the rifter onto it.

He nods, stepping out onto the field to follow. His grip fidgets upon the basic wooden staff he's been given as he does so, nervous mostly because he's unaccustomed with wielding one in any capacity. He's afraid of what it will take to relearn casting magic in this way - how different will somatics be? Will it require absolute precision or be more flexible in its successes than what he's used to? How many times is he going to drop his staff in the process and - if ever caught in a fight - will he end up unarmed and defenseless at an inopportune moment because of this?

He tenses with each nervous thought that manifests. What if his failures make him look like a fool, as well?

Allumin tries to look prepared standing across from Marcus, silent and attentive, but he's also trying to blink back a physiological urge to cry.

Maybe Marcus can see it, that urge, with the measure of his study being hard and prying. It's oddly familiar, this—how many nervous apprentices has he had stand before him? Some of them likewise fighting back tears for any myriad of reasons. Of course, this one is older than those ones, and under a different set of pressures.

Still, it's Marcus' instinct to do as he would have done with those he considered his wards, which is, to simply get on with it. "The staff is a tool of focus," he says. "It's not necessary to a mage to pull back the Veil, but it does offer a measure of control. For mages of this world, control is everything. More powerful than power. Here," and Marcus moves, shifting his hold on his own staff so that the blunt end of it is set against the ground, and both his hands wrap around it.

"This is a casting action," lifting the staff up an inch, setting it back down against the ground, to demonstrate. "Once settled, focus. See if you can get a sense of your access to the Fade, your magic, and sense the way you can gather it in your hands while you hold onto the staff. It will feel different for every mage. Like fire, or like ice, or something else."

Edited 2021-09-12 10:50 (UTC)

'More powerful than power' is a funny thought to him, considering the way that magic worked in his home and the lengths that those without it would go to achieve it. But control is powerful, he knows this in more ways than just one.

One moment, he has both hands on his staff and ready to follow along, and the next he hesitates. He worries what the something else might be, and if 'something else' will be the case for him knowing what he knows about his own magic. He fears also accidentally manifesting anything that would betray magic that is not looked upon kindly here. Moreso than he already has, that is.

But he cannot hesitate forever, and so he tries to stay focused on the lesson, mind set on the intent as he follows through with the same action as shown. There's a bit of comfort in knowing that the feeling is not entirely the same as the magic he learned from the his time in the Black Void... but it's also not entirely dissimilar either, something cold and foreign creeping along his senses from another plane. He tries to swallow down his panic - he's read enough to know that the Fade is not the Black Void, no matter how similar they may be.

"Alright," he says with a nod, looking to Marcus to make it clear he's understood this step of the lesson.

Marcus watches him process the lesson, act on it, respond, all those internal workings that are the real labour, and that he has little dominion over. By the time Allumin is nodding to him, he's roamed around a little to give them further space from each other, coming to stop more sidelong.

He nods back. "I'll show you through some casting actions," Marcus says, hefting his own staff. "And I'll go slowly, so you can mimic me."

What follows are some patiently shown manoeuvres, paused with instruction ("keep your hands further apart" and "make certain you're balanced first" and "keep your eyes up") without any explanation as to how to make them summon magic. Even then, when some motions are executed well, there's that low hum of potential zithering through the enchanted staff.

These motions feel like they could be martial, or like a dance, or meditative, and like they could be more of one of those things than the other with practice. Marcus is more mechanical, but perhaps that's just for the sake of the lesson.

He follows the movements with as much grace as he can, trying to take all the little notes into account but struggling against his inclinations to do otherwise. It's unusual and different in the first place, all of this, and even more unusual with the cognitive dissonance that the somatics for casting spells might all be shared? Rather than unique to each spell? He can't be certain of that yet of course, but learning the movements separate of any context other than being designated as casting actions is just Odd.

The nature of how Marcus moves also makes adapting tricky, the nature of his own movements tending towards frenetic fluidity under usual circumstances. The slowed pace and almost rigid feeling of this makes him doubt his own work with the staff despite the vague resonance of energy here and there. Eventually, his mouth purses up for a moment before speaking.

"Do you always move like this? Not the pace - the actual style of somatics."

Marcus sets one end of the staff against the ground, leaning in place. The question strikes him as odd, but not in some unexpected way. He's had conversations with Petrana about the way her own magic operates, its differences, although he's never been moved to try to teach her something new. He would, of course, if she wanted.

But he tips his head as he says, "In using a staff, aye, mostly, there are common and basic spells with their set of movements. Somatics," he says, as if to try that word out. "The best way I've heard to described is not only thinning the Veil, but manipulating it to produce the kind of magic you're channelling into spellwork.

"And in my opinion, it makes better sense once you know the motions by heart, when you're no longer thinking about it. So I drill my apprentices in the motions only, until that part is learned."

He pauses, and adds, "I can show you what it's supposed to look like instead."

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