Pride

[Alistair]

104th of Vhalar, Arc 716

"Ali, my dear," the woman called his name. She was here, in the flesh - she'd come to the Coven base in Rharne to visit him, though it was a small ramshackle presence. The man turned to look at her, and of course, smiled and waved. They hadn't seen one another in quite a while, and as such Alistair wasn't quite at the point in their cycle where he was dreading and avoiding her. Instead, he was relatively pleased that she was here. This woman, of course, being Ellasin. Mother dearest.

"Mother," he even called her, despite their utter lack of biological affiliation. The man approached her and offered her cold body a hug, the woman replying with a series of petite pats on the back.

She looked up to his eyes and grinned. "You smell like sex," the woman said. "I could smell it a mile away. Sweat... another man's body odor... ragged breaths, hell, even alcohol," she said, amused.

"Yes, well..." he stayed quiet, face flushed.

"You've finally lost your innocence. Wonderful. Who's the man? Or woman, if you've suddenly found the concept of procreation appealing," she laughed.

Alistair didn't really know if it was a good idea to share too much about him with her. The lady was unpredictable; she could shower him with gifts and praise, or she could stalk and kill him in the night, then present his face to Alistair later as her 'new Lich body'. As a prank, of course, as she'd never abandon her raven locks and broken grin.

"His name is Patrick, mother. Patrick Barnell," he informed her. The chance of her slaughtering him was probably not even quite one percent, so Alistair didn't hesitate to inform her. That would only increase the chances of her games.

"Mister Barnell? Why, what a lovely name. I can imagine it already; Alistair Barnell. It has barn in it to signify your fall from the station of a nobleman to a filthy sheep-fucker living out in some rural farm," she chuckled. He almost laughed, too, though not at the joke; rather at how potty-mouthed Ellasin was. Especially considering she was almost a hundred and sixty arcs, though you'd never be able to tell. He felt like he'd already started to look older than her, which was depressing. Bloody Liches.

"What happened to Duncan?" she asked. Alistair cleared his throat.

"I have no idea. I saw him, sort of recently, but that was it." He'd been meeting with a noble family - the House of Solange - to discuss the marriage of their daughter, Reimen Solange, to a man named Nielsen. Duncan had been the mercenary they'd hired to protect their daughter on the journey to his estate, as odd as the coincidence was. "I could tell he was off, but I also think he still..."

"Still loves you?" she interrupted. He nodded immediately after.

"And you him," she said. ...He had to nod again. "But yet you whored yourself out to another? Naughty, naughty, Alistair. I shall have Damien punish you with his cryptic, religious poems," she laughed.

"Well, mother, it's quite the opposite; he whored himself out to me, after all," the man said with a cheeky grin. Ellasin's mouth dropped, and she began to enthusiastically slap at his arms, jumping up and down.

"Alistair went whoring! Alistair went whoring!" she exclaimed. He could already see people on the streets staring at him as he stood in front of Patrick's home. The Hound himself had been asleep on the bed they'd shared together, though certainly he'd be woken from the commotion as well.

"Silence, mother, you're being far too enthusiastic," he scolded her. The woman pouted.

"Yes. Well, I'm excited to meet this lusty scoundrel you've somehow ended up staying with. I've been saying for years that a good pummeling in the rear was all you needed to straighten yourself out. You already seem far less broody than usual," she remarked. Again, his face flushed out, incapable of thinking straight as she so relentlessly teased him.

[Patrick]

Their nights together had been spent more often at his own apartment, rather than back at the Hound where Alistair first stayed. Patrick of course didn't really seem to mind, in fact he got quite a thrill out of having a partner home every night. Although it did make him sometimes yearn for someone else... preferably somebody of the female body. He hadn't really spent a night alone with a woman in a while, so naturally the drive he'd kept pent up had only recently been released, with Alistair being at the receiving end as the two shared passion. Yes much passion.

Ever since their 'spiritual journey' through the skies of course, Patrick has felt doubly pleased with the man because of their connection. Often when he'd felt in the mood as it were Alistair seemed to reciprocate it, and in turn their nights spent with each other became almost otherworldly. When he stirred in bed to rest an arm where his love should've rested though, only the mattress seemed to exist as nothing else solid caught it midair. Alistair had gotten up it seems. Yet it was so early... too early for anything. Patrick almost didn't want to go to work period, because he'd been in such a state of ease so often. Even his coworkers both at the Boar and the Hound had mentioned that he seemed better, happier than before when the season had started.

They were right of course. Pat's eyes opened as he looked to see his sense of touch didn't lie, Alistair wasn't in bed at all but instead outside somewhere. From the sound of it somebody else had come to visit, somebody he must have known, since it was him out in front of the door. It had been left barely even open just a crack, enough to allow some of the commotion going on outside in. Was that a woman? Somebody teasing Alistair about their personal relationship? Did he just call her mother? Maybe there was a joke about his mother, or hers maybe, thrown in somewhere Patrick missed. He felt his stomach grumble and with a soft groan, rose out of his bed to walk over to the cupboard where some fruits and vegetables were stored.

When he opened the cupboard he'd found it unsurprisingly bare in terms of food, a few potatoes and carrots here and there, along with other foods that didn't require freezing to prevent spoiling. He found himself an apple that had seriously ripened, as the skin became almost soft under his fingertips. The breakfast of champions it seems. With a second hand sent to collect a cutting knife from the drawer of his counter space, Patrick easily made his way over to the table and pulled back a chair to sit in. With his legs propped up on the corner of his table and the knife in hand, Patrick started to cut off slivers of the able to eat, his sense of hearing honed in on the conversation between the two outside as well.

She wanted to meet him? Fascinating! Patrick always loved making first impressions with new people, and from the sound of it he'd already done well without even being there. With the door now pushed to swing open Patrick's eyes shot from the apple to the two that walked in, as Alistair and this 'mother' of his would find a very much naked Patrick relaxed at the table. His legs being propped on the edge didn't really reveal anything, other than the part of his ass that didn't rest on chair, and of course when he got to see the woman who entered he beheld a wide smirk.

"There you are, who's this then?" He inquired casually as if he hadn't been listening in to the conversation, an eyebrow rose as he noticed how unusual she came across to him. This lady that entered... while she looked rather plain honestly she had an odd quirk about her, as though the quality of air around her staled in her presence.

[Alistair]

As the two of them entered Patrick's home together, Alistair couldn't help but feel nervous. He didn't really understand why Ellasin had asked to meet this man, and he wouldn't accept the reasoning of 'a mother needs to meet her child's love interests,' considering she wasn't actually his mother and she also never seemed to care. He knew that Patrick likely wouldn't present himself in a way that she liked, anyhow; she only liked the magically empowered, ambitious types. It was a relatively tiny archetype. All of the other sentient beings across Idalos - human or animal - were merely sheep for her to lead astray. It was how she'd always operated, forever ignoring the humanity of others who lacked in power.

As they entered through the door, they were both met with a surprise. Alistair was surprised mostly because he'd expected the man to still be in bed, while Ellasin was surprised because she could see his naked body. Her first reaction was almost to get within proper viewing range just to see how endowed the man was - for future jokes at Alistair's expense - but she held back and instead feigned a look of shock.

"My, my!" she exclaimed. Her jaw merely went unhinged - and terrifyingly enough it probably literaly could have - though Alistair could tell at first breath that she was being disingenuous. "Alistair - apparently your man lacks ears," she grinned. "That, or class."

"Mother," the mage rolled his eyes. He scanned Patrick's body - as much as he could visibly see, anyway - and bit his lower lip. The man immediately rushed to grab a blanket, one that he threw over his lover's shoulders with a pinch on the neck accompanying it. He knew the man must've heard them speaking outside. If this was to be considered practice for his real family, back at home, the Hound had epically failed. Although, Alistair didn't really mind all that much outside of his natural, kneejerk reaction upon seeing the man nude in front of his 'mother'. He sort of found it funny, thinking about it; the Duchess, Grandmother Ebony coming into Alistair's room in the tower and instead finding Patrick sprawled out naked on the bed. It was a humoring scenario.

"Ali..."
The Lich looked to her apprentice, then back at Patrick. "You've initiated him?" the woman asked Alistair. The man immediately froze, his chest tightening immensely. The hands that had come to rest on Patrick's shoulders, massaging him as Ellasin looked around the shabby home, went stiff. "I feel it very clearly... the man has a spark. And it resembles yours. And mine." She moved closer to investigate, though Alistair gestured for her to wait. In a way, he was trying urgently to portray the fact that he hadn't really explained it to Patrick yet. It was something he said he'd get to, internally, but the more he'd thought about it, the more divisive it became in his thoughts. Much of Alistair was content to allow Patrick to never know. If he never knew, then it would never mean anything. They'd merely have their celestial bond, and the man who was now a mage - unbeknownst to him - would never have to acknowledge the changes he'd gone through alongside Alistair's little ritual. Transcendence.

But of course, Ellasin was not expected for a visit. And her spark was the origin of Alistair's rupturing, and therefore by result, Patrick's. It worked generationally. She could feel her own manifestation of energy in him, though heavily diluted with time. Alistair's presence was far more clear and paramount to the man's spark. In fact, it had essentially consumed the man's spark, being that he was the only person to have given the Hound any form of magic. Ellasin's lips curved into a smirk. She would not conceal the truth merely at Alistair's behest, and she also knew very well that the man would - retrospectively - thank her for being clear, when he couldn't be.

"Patrick, how does it feel to be a mage?" she asked. "To be capable of dividing, beating and conquering human boundaries, one by one?"

[Patrick]

In truth the practice of Patrick merely sitting naked in his home didn't strike him as wrong, or improper either seeing as how it was just that; his home. Of course it would've been much more considerate of him to dress a little, but the sudden nudist found it quite liberating to feel the entirety of his skin able to breathe. The woman he brought in seemed to react in surprise to him and Patrick's eyebrows rose, a quiet chuckle made as he merely carved off another sliver and slipped it between his teeth. Ears was a debatable matter as he did tend to have selective hearing, but class had to be something he couldn't give two bogs over when she snickered at that.

Alistair worked quick to grab the blanket off from the bed and bring it to veil Pat's body, the soft wispy existence of a breeze now dead as the cloth loosely embraced skin. Patrick gave a look up behind himself to see Alistair's face above, a rather obvious wink made that only demonstrated how much of an ego the entertainer had. First he merely watched as the crass lady that was his mother glanced between them, another sliver chomped on as sweet ripened juices covered his tongue. He would probably want to go out and get a larger meal to eat afterwards, once they were free of their guest and left to do whatever whim dictated anyways. Then she pointed out something that Patrick didn't expect, something that only he and Alistair should've known about actually. That he'd been initiated with Transcendence, a personal thing that permanently formed a stronger bond between the two.

How did she know about it though? Only Alistair and Patrick knew of it as it was just the two of them, so how in Idalos did this lady know the two used such magic... unless she was- Oh shit... By the Immortals she was a mage! Another damned mage had come into his life, his own home no less and knew about what the two had done! But how?! His chewing ceased as he watched her with anxiety, tension felt in his own chest as Alistair came to freeze in place. Did Alistair actually feel nervous? Just what in Ilaren's name was this about now? What was this about a spark? It resembled hers?? He'd never met this woman before, and somehow he had a... a spark or some shyte that was hers? Of her? Like part of her? Originally hers?

"Okay. Now you're startin' t' freak me out." He admitted with a gulp of the chewed apple he had in his mouth, his eyes shot up to Alistair once more with a lost expression. "What's she goin' on about?" He whispered to his lover hopeful he'd answer. There seemed to be no need however, she already clarified just what exactly the whole thing meant. She asked him, rather ominously in fact, how it felt to be one of them. To be a mage of all things. Patrick's eyebrows folded low for a moment as he looked to her once more, the corner of his lips cracked wide as he couldn't help but burst out loud in front of the two. "This is a joke right? She's jokin' isn't she Alistair." He mused while the laughter finally died down, however the other two didn't seem to think it funny. In fact neither one of them... fessed up that it was in fact a joke. This... mother of Patrick's was actually serious!

"What?!" He rose to his feet with the apple placed on the table, while the knife had been tightly gripped in his hand. "I'm not a mage! No! I can't be! The only thing we did was that weird Transcendence spell that..." His denial quickly faded as shock hit him hard, the revelation clear in his expression as he turned around and moved to back away from Alistair. The Transcendence, the whole putting energy inside his body, even the journey as an astral spirit was all part of... an initiation? Or was that actually the initiation?! Was he actually a mage?! A Gods be damned magic-slinger, a freak who just now joined the circus show?! Panic quickly developed in his mind and he'd forgotten the bond between him and Alistair, a sense of blind betrayal now prevalent in his eyes. His heart wanted to stop but instead it grew heavy with harsh pounds, and he felt himself ready to drop at any given moment from the shock of the entire ordeal.

"The fuck?! I'm not a mage!" He barked desperately with the knife held before him defensively, right now he didn't know just who he could trust at the moment.

[Alistair]

...He didn't take too well to what she'd been saying, that was for certain. In fact, it took Patrick hardly more than a sliver of a moment to begin to realize what she meant. Alistair could see the drop in his expression and the surprise from the moment she began to discuss the initiation, and told the Hound about the 'spark'. He asked Alistair if the woman had been joking. The man, still frozen in place, took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

"No," he replied. "She's not joking." He could feel his heart drop. This was going to be . . . a very difficult situation for him. While he hadn't directly lied, he'd concealed the truth, and an important truth at that. He'd allowed Patrick to become a mage for the sake of 'helping' him - when they hadn't even discovered conclusive answers - and perhaps, subconsciously, so that he could rest assured that they'd stay together. Regardless of the fact that they would be spread apart through great distance, Alistair wanted to be able to find him again. And he felt . . . like Patrick would've wanted the same. But to make him a mage was a different thing entirely. And so he initiated him, but secretly, with the full details concealed. He called it the initiation, even, but the man didn't understand what it meant. 'Transcendence' - just a spell, in his eyes. Not a wholly significant thing.

Ellasin laughed. "The Transcendence is more than just a 'weird spell', young one. Ali and I have shared in it before as well, many years ago." She looked to her apprentice, cocking a grin. "What, did you perform the Transcendence because you thought it would resemble a good high, or something?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "No. It was more complicated than that. We didn't do it for the sake of enjoyment; it was to try and uncover something by using the freedom of form it has to offer. By projecting our conscious mind freely, we sought to find..." he was cut off, Patrick beginning to rave about it. He couldn't grasp the idea that he was a mage; this was actually worse than Alistair had imagined his reaction to be. Especially considering it seemed like he'd come to terms with Alistair's magic. But, maybe - he had to acknowledge - he was wrong.

"You aren't a mage," Alistair clarified to him, glaring at Ellasin for her obligatory need to fearmonger. "You just have a spark. It's different than being a mage. A mage actually has to use that spark. To truly awaken it. Everyone has a spark - I gave yours a bit of a kick. Some of mine flowed into yours, which is why we have this . . . special connection now. But you don't have to fully awaken it, Patrick. You don't have to ever cast a spell in your life. No one will even know you've been initiated. Not unless they're as powerful of a mage as Ellasin, and I can't think of any mage out there as strong as her." Certainly not in the Seekers, and clearly not in the Coven; they would have taken over by now.

He did acknowledge the danger that it posed Patrick if he decided he wished to use his spark without proper guidance, but that wouldn't have mattered either if he'd never been made aware. If no one had ever told Patrick that he'd been initiated, he would've lived life as a human. At least, that was what Alistair had deducted based on empirical evidence. But evidently, Ellasin wished to play her games, and she forced the entertainer into the fold.

"But you could be a mage," she informed him. "It's quite liberating. I'd be glad to teach you, love. And so would Alistair. You'd be surprised at all that you can do... the limitations of the body become an irrelevant thing. Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be capable of going anywhere you wanted, whenever you wanted? What it would like to be ageless, deathless, and on a totally different caliber to others? Feared even by the Immortals?" She grinned. "I know this feeling; there is a reason the ritual cast on you is known as the Transcendence. You really do... transcend past what you'd ever expected of yourself." Of course, like usual, she was using this situation to attempt to recruit the man to the Coven.

Alistair interjected.

"Or you could live life as normal," he told him. "You can just ignore it. Trust me. You don't have to be afraid. I wouldn't have done any of this to you if I'd felt it would put you into harms way."

[Patrick]

Patrick had been totally ignorant of the fact Alistair was a mage, all because he wanted to look past that and believe the man better than that. He humanized Alistair because of what he felt, and in turn trusted the man when the suggestion finally came to try Transcendence.

But now? Now Patrick didn't know what to think, what to believe in regards to what he heard. Ellasin or whoever she was seemed to specify what it was, and indulged the fact she and Alistair also did it once. So that meant... she was Alistair's mentor? She taught him how to use- er initiated him into the damned magic? Rupturing. That's what Pat first learned to call it, that day Alistair revealed his secret to him personally. Yet now here he was on the verge of a mental breakdown, all because he now had the qualities that could've made him a freak.

Alistair attempted to console him with the explanation that he wasn't a mage, but some sort of 'host' for this now awakened spark within his body. Patrick honestly didn't understand it and right now, he really didn't want to hear any more of it either. All he wanted was to go back to bed and pretended none of this ever happened, to wake up and realize he'd fallen in a bad dream. Why did everything good he ever had to allow into his life, come back and end up biting him in the ass afterwards?! First his inner fixations for Wendell and Rei, then his actual feelings for the two, and now Alistair with all of this?! It was too much! All of it was too much for him!

The hag within the room seemed to extend an invitation to him of course, told him that he could be a mage with her and Alistair for teachers. Her! Of all the people on this godforsaken part of the world, she would've been the last person Patrick ever chose to side with. Alistair was trying hard apparently because he said otherwise, said to Patrick that it could easily be ignored and left buried a secret. Could that even be a possibility? Even now Patrick felt himself changed, different from who he was.

His face became a vivid flushed red as hot tears started to leak from his eyes, the knife pointed to the woman as he reacted to her first. "The only thing I want is for this bitch t' leave! Get out of my house! Get out!" He wasn't sure what he did nor how it happened, he'd felt such a rush of emotion that his pointed gesturing with the knife caused a reaction.

Right next to her the air seemed to spasm with a shudder, the space between her and the table popped and cracked, and with an overly loud hiss of static magic appeared in place. Was that a black hole? It kicked alive out of no where and though minuscule, still packed a punch powerful enough to knock the table and chairs over at a burst. The whole apartment had been hit with a shock wave, as the poorly constructed portal Patrick created died out just as quickly as he gave it birth.

"Fuck!" He screamed after a jump and drop of the knife and then backed against the wall, he then slowly slid down to his bum and leaned forward into a fetal position. Sobs came next as he kept to himself, hopeful that the two were done and left him to be alone.

[Alistair]

Before he knew it, the man was outraged and on the verge of an emotional outcry. He grabbed the knife he'd been using to... skin his apple, evidently, and pointed it at Ellasin. Alistair's eyes widened as he aimed the blade at her. The only thing I want is for this bitch to leave.

"I'm not a bitch, thank you," she responded with a grin, "despite what my political adversaries would call me."

She wasn't helping. At least she didn't flay the man or rip him in half with Sovereign. She could've done it in an instant, channeling the power of Aelothar; Alistair wouldn't even be able to react in time. That knife pointing in her face was a death wish, and so too were the words that accompanied it.

How did he not see that this would happen? That Ellasin could not possibly be allowed to meet his lover? That she'd blow things out of proportion, endanger them, and try to coerce him with the promise of power? Ultimately, Ellasin pleased only herself and fought for only herself. While a sliver of her might have cared for Alistair, the benefit of watching him flail about in shock was likely far more compelling to her than acting in his interests. Ultimately, his interests were irrelevant unless they directly related to his magical studies, and Patrick was a distraction.

Yes . . . a distraction. That made sense. It seemed whenever Alistair had a partner, she'd always swooped by and shortly after they were severed from one another. Even Grayson learning of Alistair's necromancy, so long ago, had been due to Ellasin's scheming. She was a woman who sought to keep her 'child' - or progeny - focused on only their studies. On expanding their mind. Love and other such things were a waste of Alistair's time. He couldn't be a proper weapon if accompanied by inhibiting priorities. A blade, or any other such weapon, was one useful due to its identity as a tool. It did not have needs, or emotions. It had only a sharp cut.

And ultimately, that was what Alistair was to her. He'd known it for quite a while; it was the fate she'd guaranteed for him. The future he'd gained by giving his soul to the devil. That was what joining the Coven was, and especially becoming the direct student of Ellasin - it was a pact with a demon. Those bound to a devil's hellish machinations were doomed to live a hellish life.

As Alistair was stuck within his own thoughts, he began to feel a ripple in the air. The space between Patrick and Ellasin was being torn, the man's anger taking form in magic. Somehow, he'd drawn ether almost as an instinct, a manifestation of his rage. Alistair's lips parted as he reactively pulled ether towards himself, then sent out his hand and attempted to cancel the spell before it completed. He already knew that an unstable rupturing portal was one of the most dangerous spells gone awry; though as his palm flung forward to cancel the portal using Abrogation, he found himself only able to cease the growth of the portal at the bitter end. The rupture grew unstable and ripped through the table, flinging Patrick backwards while Alistair held his ground by pushing against the force of the portal with the defensive propensities of Abrogation. Ellasin was entirely unmoved by it, Sovereign manifesting before her as a shield of kinetic force.

The Hound cursed, his back against the wall. The next thing Alistair knew, he'd curled into a ball and began to cry. The Necromantress scoffed at the sight of it.

"Wow," Ellasin shook her head. "Nevermind, Ali. You can have him. He's weak." The raven haired woman opened a portal - a blazing doorway, identical to Alistair's ruptures in appearance. And, likely, identical to Patrick's if he ever demonstrated a more clear and uniform tear in space. "I'll be at our little ramshackle base, in Rharne. Come by soon, please. We have much to discuss." She disappeared, leaving her apprentice to deal with the mess that they had both created. Alistair wouldn't blame her for the entirety of this situation, but her method of approaching volatile situations had always been... unsophisticated. This could have gone a lot better. He should've informed the man days ago - or maybe, before actually initiating him. But the lie was now his sin to bear.

"Hey..." Ali began, "are you okay?"

He looked to him, in his relatively pitiful state, unknowing of what to think. He didn't imagine he'd react so... 'enthusiastically', to put it into optimistic terms, to the idea of becoming a mage. Then again, Alistair had never seen anyone force-initiated before, except for by Coven Aberrants who wished to flay their victims afterwards. People generally knew what they were getting into.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt as if he'd done something quite bad. And now, he couldn't even tell Patrick that it was okay, and that he didn't ever have to utilize his magic. He'd just casted a spell, albeit a failed one. He'd opened himself up to magic, now, in its entirety.

"I'm sorry," the nobleman said, frowning. "I didn't think it would matter."

[Patrick]

Those words. Those damned fighting words she'd stated, no matter how true they were in the end, were what brought the worst inclinations out of Patrick. He'd never been one who liked to be called weak, and even though he knew good and well he was, he denied any and all claim to the word for sake of one thing. Pride. He'd always been the one out of him and Dominek, to resort to pride and pragmatism to get by. He'd always been proud of who he was, always proud to just do what he wanted without a care.

Yet even now that felt stripped of him. He felt he'd lost that aspect now that he knew, that he'd become a mage whose only truth was weakness. He hated it! Hated her! He nearly spat to her in disgust because of it, but with the conjuration of her own portal and departure, the two were left alone as Patrick continued to weep on the floor. "No!" He swore blatantly as he was still furious. "Do I look okay t' you?! Does anythin' about me look okay?!" His voice had started to rasp from so much shouting, his reddened swollen eyes fiercely locked on the form that was Alistair.

The noble apologized to him with the reasoning, a rather sorry one actually, that he believed it would matter. But... it did. This whole mess mattered because of what happened, because of the fact Patrick had been made into something. A freak! How in Idalos was he meant to be normal after this? How was he suppose to pretend none of this ever happened, that his being touched by magic never really existed and was just fantasy? "Why?" He finally croaked as he breathed deep and heavily. "Why didn't you say anythin'?! Why not tell me?!" He insisted to know as his hands balled into fists, by now his entire body felt cold as he shivered in his place.

He was so torn apart by all of this. Torn between wanting Alistair to comfort him, hold him and reassure him everything was going to be fine... and at the same time hit him as hard as he could because of the secrecy. Patrick felt so... blindsided. So betrayed. He wanted everything about today to be undone, but at the same time he didn't want Alistair to go. He needed Alistair! But that need felt complicated with fear, fear out of what this would make him become.

[Alistair]

He stood quietly as the man started to shout at him. Evidently, Patrick was not okay, nor did he look okay. He looked like someone who'd just lost their child, or something. But evidently Alistair asked not literally, and instead as a formality. The way the man bitterly responded to him was irritating at best; he could only choose to ignore it. Maybe it was because Alistair didn't understand anger - real anger - that his sympathy was half-hearted at best. That smooth, sociopathic gaze didn't last for long, though. Something was churning in him. As the man's emotions began to rise and solidify, the tether between them communicated the rawness of those emotions . . . into Alistair. And so, a part of him was starting to become angry. And dejected, too. A flurry of thoughts ran into his head at once; most of them were negative.

"Why the fuck do you care?" he asked him. His eyebrows lowered as his eyes narrowed. His face seemed very clearly annoyed, if not outright upset. The stoicism transformed into a strong, albeit controlled, wroth. "Is it really that bad of a thing, Patrick? To have a connection with me? To be capable of attaining higher understanding? Are you really so prejudiced against my kind - against mages?" His anger was in full swing, now. He could feel it encircling around his chest; his insides grew hot, his breathing began to rise with his heartbeat. But Alistair's anger was rarely ever so filled with shouting and demonstrable wrath. It was controlled, always. It was articulate. And it cut deep.

"What makes it so disgusting to you, Patrick? Is it disgusting because you're uneducated? You've been taught all your life that we murder children, sacrifice pregnant women and turn men into toads? None of those things are true, at least not for the vast majority of us. You should not indulge the need to feel such primitive anger at the concept of becoming someone different. Better." He shook his head, glaring down at the man, who trembled on the floor.

"Mages are superior to others. Ellasin called you weak, and she was right; everyone mortal without magic or favor of the Immortals is weak. Unbelievably weak. We have the potential to outdo them all. She could slay an army of a thousand to her lonesome - and eventually, I will be able to as well. What can you do, as you are now? What can anyone do? They can run at us with shields and swords, trusting only in their own stamina. And all they'll find is that they've been blasted onto the floor, molten overrunning their flesh. You are weak," he said, his voice low, "but you don't have to be. You can be strong. You can embrace the magic that I've given you, and surpass your limits. Or you can illogically fear it and continue to tremble like a weeping bitch. It's all up to you."

He did not console him. Instead, he left, opening a portal in the place that Ellasin had, seeking to follow her call and meet her in the Crypts. He could still feel the anger, even now. And the sadness. And he didn't know why. His emotions had gone awry since the Transcendence; everything had begun to change.

[Patrick]

As he laid there he watched almost glaringly at Alistair, as the man seemed to snap back at him for asking the question. Why did he care? It was his own life, his own humanity he had at stake. And now? What was left of him that could hardly be described as human? Was there any part of him that wouldn't be forever changed by this... curse? This abnormality?

Alistair himself seemed to have fallen into a fit of rage, much like Patrick had done just moments ago with... whoever that hag was. Now of course the entertainer had become wounded, emotionally wounded by the words that cut deep. Deeper than any blade could hope to pierce, deeper than the flesh that made Patrick who he was. Magic had been one of the few abominations he'd learned to fear, to practically hate because of the reputation it carried with it. To be a part of that now, he'd basically became the very thing he hated and feared most. As if he wasn't already bad enough of a person, now he had another aspect to contend with.

Even so Alistair's bout hit him hard, the words left a sickening clench in his gut afterwards. Superiority to others, weakness by default, and of course the option to embrace fear itself. What good was Patrick if he couldn't come to terms with who he was, what purpose did it serve to feel the way he felt when it only backfired at the worst time possible? Alistair left much like is 'mother' had done, and in doing so Patrick finally got the wish that he had wanted. He was left alone. All alone with his thoughts and his emotions, and no real productive countermeasure to follow with either.

Betrayal. Anger. Fear. These just scratched the surface at what Patrick felt, as he now had a name of who was all to blame for this. Ellasin. Whoever or whatever she was, she was the reason Alistair had this cursed magic, and therefore the reason Patrick now had it as well. Hate, scorn, and spite. These were more initial emotions tied in to the thinking, as he came to realize just where his place was among these lot. They were the wolves, the mages, and he had been the sheep. After today though? He would be a sheep no more, he would not be considered 'weak' among those bastards. Wrapped tightly in his blanket still situated against the wall, Patrick made a solemn vow to do one thing now that he'd awakened this power.

He would in turn transcend what he was, and use that power to strike down the one who'd ruined his life. He would evolve and become a lion among the sheep, no longer weakened by these so called 'limitations' that held him back.

He would kill Ellasin be it with or without magic.