Just a Bite? A Little Bite? Who: Harlan and Paziter When: Anesus 2, 12:30am Where: Main Hall
While Elanna's presence had been fortifying earlier in the night, Paziter had apologetically unhooked himself from her and set himself to wandering alone, intent on the only kind of hunt that he knew how to negotiate. His stomach was all but rumbling; it had been getting towards three days since last he'd fed and he really wanted to set some kind of connections up before he had to resort to something completely ingratiating, like begging. Or worse (and he prayed to Rapemi to leave him be) succumbing to blood-lust over an accident in the kitchen. That had only happened to him once before, as a child, and he had been on chicken's blood for a month. It had been a foul month.
Now Paziter, ears practically perked at the sounds of hearts beating away, had decided that he needed to make himself visible, despite the chance of a certain Zalaron (or any other trouble-makers, for that matter) happening upon him. He'd returned to his room, sussed out a decorative smock, preened nervously before his mirror again, and finding himself nearly unable to return up the stairs, settled on bringing some work up with him. Desdemona had relayed to him that some humans were willing to exchange chores for a meal, right? Well, hopefully he could draw the right kind of attention by putting his skills on display.
He'd returned to the main hall a bit after midnight, dressed as flawlessly as he could make himself, a leather kit tucked under his arm and a magnifying device, something like an eye patch, slung about his neck in wait.
He sat himself down and, despite the smell of flesh and blood and the cacophony of tempting hearts, laid his work out on a patch of clear table, facing the merrily blazing fire place. Opening his kit with a meticulous, familiar gesture and apparently counting all of the tools and items within (at least, his wagging, twitching fingers attested to such a chore) Paziter removed a small coil of leather and unrolled it, revealing gems that had been worked in to the black-dyed skin. He shook a little glass container delicately, next to his ear, smiled as he seemed to temporarily forget his surroundings, and got to work.
It would be much easier if he wasn't so hungry. But then again... he was one scion of a large family. He had known from the start that he was going to have to work for his living.
When nothing obviously changed at half past midnight-- nothing appeared or disappeared, nobody screamed from somewhere else in the castle, nothing exploded-- except the foot-by-foot piece of paper that unrolled itself out of midair and attached itself to the wall directly under the clock, Harlan... didn't really feel all that relieved. He still didn't know what the test was going to be. It was nerve-wracking not knowing.
After reading what the paper said-- after several others who were better at jostling their way to the front of the little crowd at the clock, and after leaning in and squinting at the text through his spectacles-- he felt marginally better. It looked like the "challenge" for the day was just giving the new folks their orientation. He could live with that.
That left him ready to head to bed, or it would have if he hadn't spotted the fellow with tools spread out across a table and obviously working on something mechanical, metal, or at least interesting. Bed could wait; Harlan was much more interested in tinkering. He altered course without really thinking about it, aiming right for that patch of table by the fire. "You look pretty busy over here," he said by way of introduction, or at least to let whoever it was know he was there. "What're you working on?"
"Ah..." Paziter looked up, blinking owlishly at the human. 'Thudthud, Thudthud,' Harlan's heart-beat was weaker than most, but still audible enough to get the Vrykola to lose focus. When the human spoke up, it sealed his fate. So to speak. "It's a belt, actually," the blonde looked down at the strip of leather. It wasn't near finished, but it was coming along alright. All of the basic work had been done, and now the imprinting and the addition of the gems -- mostly polished quartz, as he hadn't been allowed to bring precious gems with him -- was underway. Glittering eyes of intertwined, bird-like creatures stared up blankly where they were finished, waiting for the rest of the chain to be crafted. "I, uh, I thought that if I were to... to show off my work, maybe I could attract some attention."
'Attention like you, and it worked like a charm,' he thought in the furthest recesses of his mind.
"I had heard through the people that I met that it was possible to trade... work. Chores? For blood? I don't know if it's true," he stammered on, "I was just hoping..."
Aha, Vrykola. Nobody else would be talking about blood. And a remarkably timid sort of one, too-- probably terribly off-balance, poor fellow; hungry and uncertain in a big place like this. At least he wasn't walking around demanding of people, or attacking people out of darkened corridors. That had happened before.
Timid, maybe, but also talented; the belt was lovely and Harlan eyed it with a little actual jealousy. He sorely wished he could produce something like that, but his eyesight might work well enough for large clockwork parts and whittling or braiding, but that kind of work would require much better lenses.
Harlan offered the boy-- surely new; he'd know him, otherwise, and probably have latched onto him with questions about technology by now-- a warm smile. "Not all of us make your people work for food," he said. "May I join you?" He motioned to the empty opposite bench.
"Uh... yes!" Wow, Paziter couldn't believe that his little 'underhanded' scheme had worked so well! "What do you mean? And, oh, I'm Paziter Ingret. I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself to start off with." He had been holding a pair of tweezers in one hand, now he set them down next to a pair of fine pliers, extended his hand in the way that he knew humans were comfortable with.
Harlan shook the hand warmly-- in more ways than one, though his hands weren't nearly as "warm" was most humans; bad circulation, and all-- before sitting himself down for a better look at the belt. "This is lovely. I wish I could put together something like this... most of my skill is in tools and what little clockwork I've managed to pick up, not works of functional art. As for what do I mean-- what do you mean, what do I mean?" He looked up again with a smile, pushing his spectacles back up his nose. They always slid when he looked down, but bending the earpieces to curl all the way around his ears made them uncomfortable. Comfort over utility; he had to make the sacrifice somewhere.
"I meant exactly what I said," he continued. "Not everyone will make you swap chores or trinkets for letting you have a bite. You need to eat as much as anyone, and as long as you're careful and polite...." He hitched a shoulder in a shrug. He'd had a lot of practice acting non-chalaunt about such things, for all he really had a bit of fascination for the blood-feeders; if he was too eager, they got suspicious of him. Apparently his heartbeat never gave him away-- damn thing didn't work right in a number of senses. "I have been known to try and wheedle trade secrets out of people I donate to, though," he added, mostly teasing. Mostly.
Paziter stared at Harlan for a moment, wondering if this human was too good to be true. "Really?" he consciously had to lower his voice to avoid squeaking in delight. "Really. Ah. Well, you wouldn't have happened to have donated recently, would you?" With his luck, the newcomer would be all tapped out. The first order of business, his 'nannies' had told his siblings and him, was to ensure that servants were able, as being willing was not contested. He wasn't so focused on work right now -- trade secrets were certainly not the first thing on his mind! "What was your name again?" Had the human told him and he'd forgotten? No, Paziter was certain that he'd have remembered, even in his current state of anticipation.
"Aah, sorry... Harlan. Harlan Porscoli. And no, I haven't in a few days, though I will warn you, you can't take much from me." It was apologetic, and unfortunate, but true. He got faint far too easily, and had, in fact, passed out a couple times when Vrykola didn't pay attention. "I'm not the most healthy person in the compound," he explained. "Something that's safe for me will only last you a couple days, at most." There was his catch, what kept him from being perfect for a Vrykola. A couple of them actually avoided him just for that reason, though one did out of disgust and the other out of pity.
Harlan smiled again, even if it was still a bit apologetic. "I take it you're hungry?" Why else ask if he'd donated recently, after all?
"A little," Paziter admitted, head lowering, refusing to make eye contact. He felt a rush of relief -- even if he had not found a font of ever-replenishing humanity right here, it was definitely a good start. And simply because Harlan was a human, he would know more of his kind. Humans seemed to run in groups... so hopefully, hopefully this was the foot in the door that Paziter needed.
"If you're willing, I know how to be careful and... trade secrets? I don't know if my sire would want that but... I would be very grateful." He cast Harlan a brief smile, careful to hide the hints of fangs that he was simply unable to keep dulled. "I would be happy to show you what I know." And it was true: Paziter enjoyed nothing more than going on about what he made or was planning on making or was in the process of making. If he had one weakness, it was his craft. "Is there, uh, any popular procedure?" he asked. His stomach wouldn't mind a bit if he leapt on Harlan in the middle of the hall, but that was the last thing that Paziter was planning on doing!
Maybe it was sad, but Harlan couldn't help looking for the fangs, and being vaguely disappointed when he couldn't find them. Not all the humans around were terribly pleased to helpfully donate-- but most of them who were did it out of a sense of duty, or a sense of friendship, not because they thought Vrykolas were fascinating. Even shy, earnest ones like Paziter, here, had that spark of something interesting to them.
"Depends on how intimate you want to be," he chuckled, and started rolling back a sleeve. Or, well, a couple sleeves, since he was in layers. "Since I'm not a pretty lady, I'm guessing the wrist is probably what we'd both prefer. As friendly as you are, necks are rather close." Then he paused before rolling down his second sleeve, remembering that they were in a public place. That still had people in it, a few of which would probably call the poor Vrykola to task for feeding off someone so "frail" as Harlan. "We could go someplace else, too, if you'd prefer," he suggested delicately.
The whole mention of intimacy made Paziter feel all the more awkward. He knew that some Vrykolas charged on without thought to who they were taking from, but it was very easy to turn the situation around, especially for someone as uncertain as himself; it could be very easy to drop a pint of blood now and then to make a Vrykola sit and dance or beg and roll over. A scion, at least. The only thing that kept him from flushing was his own lack of sustaining blood.
He covered his mouth as his fangs descended fully, the sight of Harlan rolling up his sleeves quite enough. "Um, perhaps into the hall," he sound apologetic, though his voice was muffled behind fingers and awkward dentures. He had really wanted to make a good first impression, but he had a feeling that he was blowing it.
Forgetting his tool kit and his half-finished project, he stepped away from the table and bowed to Harlan. "Thank you, again," he had balled his hand into a fist in front of his face, as if about to avert a cough. These little permissions would get easier over time, he knew. He hoped. He had never had to initiate permission before... the stock he'd drawn from had already known the way things worked long before he was turned.
"You're welcome," Harlan said, standing, as well, though not bowing back-- he really wasn't so good at all the formal things. He was trying hard not to look as amused as he felt. The poor boy seemed so awkward already, and his attempt at a little tease had only seemed to make it worse. He'd have to be careful not to tease worse... at least he wasn't prone to teasing too badly, to begin with.
He did smile a bit, in a more reassuring than amused fashion, as he added, "And you're not going to make me uncomfortable or nervous, I promise. You can relax. And, you know, get your things... if you leave such lovely work sitting around, it's bound to wind up stolen." Maybe he'd suggest his own room, actually... just in case he needed a bed nearby to collapse onto afterwards. He might, after all. Probably would, in fact.
"Ah, yeth," Paziter did cough a bit, forcibly calming himself, bringing himself back to present. He was used to leaving his things laying around back home, as his work chamber had been his own, and everybody who enjoyed tinkering had had a tool set of their own.
Now he hurriedly rolled the belt back up, folded the larger leather flap over the snug tools and project both, and wrapped the twine that had curled up languidly beside the temporary work-station. Propping the case under his arm, he looked to Harlan for direction, a thankful, somewhat sheepish smile cricking the corners of his mouth.
The young man did his best not to stare at the fangs for the brief glimpses he got of them. The last thing he wanted to do was make anyone more uncomfortable. But he was still looking. "Upstairs?" He suggested, heading across the hall and in the direction of the stairs. "Getting up and down stairs after donating can be a bit trying, for me...." Winds, it was trying getting up them, to begin with.
Upstairs? Oh... Harlan's room must be up there. The Vrykola fought down the embarrassing notion that going upstairs had anything to do with the jab that was mentioned earlier, along with the thought that the human would be easy enough to carry if he needed it -- Paziter didn't need the first thought, and he was certain that Harlan didn't need the next.
Instead, he gestured with a semi-restrained hand, the one that was keeping his kit close. "After you," he suggested. He looked about the hall, hoping that the exchange hadn't seemed illicit. It was strange, he thought, that with the relief of a meal so near came the tension of possible mutiny, of possible harassment (he still remembered Raven's barbed little comments)... would he have to put up with these fears for the next six years? And if he survived it, would he have to start all over again once he got out? Paziters sire wasn't going to allow him to stay close to home forever...
All of these distracting thoughts aside, there was feeding to be had, so the Vrykola followed eagerly behind Harlan while attempting to maintain a polite distance. It was hard, especially on the stairs where he had to humor the humans poor body. By the time that they had gotten to the second floor landing, Paziter had to force himself not to shift from foot to foot. It took quite a force of will to stay still and to wait for Harlan to choose where to go next. He certainly didn't know which room to move towards!
The poor Vrykola had to wait even longer than that, as at the top of the stairs-- like always-- Harlan had to pause to catch his breath. "Sorry," he said, one hand on the wall and the other on his heart. It felt like it was beating too fast again, though not as badly as it could. Stupid heart, stupid body....
Sooner than he might have liked if he didn't have someone waiting on him, Harlan started moving again, heading down the hall towards his block and room. Alarie, if she was waiting up for him to let her know what the challenge was, was going to have to wait a bit. As much as he loved his little sister, he doubted she'd approve of this, and he wasn't about to give her more reason to worry. The thought of this being anything illicit didn't so much as cross his mind-- after all, men being with men really wasn't an issue... it simply didn't happen, as far as he knew.
Pulling the key out of his pocket, he unlocked his door and beckoned Paziter in after him. The room beyond was mostly neat, only a little cluttered, and stacked with handwritten, handmade books and mechanical odds and ends-- or what passed for mechanical, among humans. The bed was made, though, and Harlan motioned for Paziter to have a seat.
Paziter was tempted to give Harlan an arm to borrow, but refrained. It was obvious that the human was willing and determined to take care of himself, and Paziter wasn't even certain if it was appropriate, even if Harlan seemed deathly sick.
The Vrykola did not pay much heed to Harlan's room, now that the destination was discovered, nor to much of anything else save the human himself. That erratic heartbeat filled Paziter's ears and the pale man sat where he was indicated, shifting so that his scabbards didn't cause undue annoyances. He wondered... would Harlan prefer a knife? It would be much easier to heal if the cut were clean. Paziter's saliva contained, as with all Vrykolas, a healing property which would seal any wound... but as Harlan had joked earlier, the two had only just met, and biting could be seen as intimate.
Paziter fondled the clasp over Vigilant nervously, waiting for the humans next instructions. How to bring this up? How to ask?
Finally he unsnapped the hasp, gently removing the knife. He fiddled with it, spinning it slowly in his hands. "If you want to make the cut," he mumbled through extended fangs, "this has been cleaned and polished." If he'd had a heart beat, it would be racing now. As it was, Paziter felt a warm rush of expectation. He would be able to feed properly, no need to succumb to the haze of blood lust. Only a day or two's worth of blood... it didn't take much to remind him that Harlan wouldn't be able to afford any more than that.
Harlan turned back from shutting the door again, and locking it from the inside so he didn't get any curious or nosy visitors, to see a knife and he blinked, taking a moment to track with the slight change of subject and the appearance of a weapon. "Ah. All right." That was a new one. A blade, first. Every Vrykola he knew preferred to actually bite... but whatever made Paziter comfortable, really.
He came over, finally pretty recovered from the stairs up, and joined Paziter on the bed, holding a hand for the knife. "Do you want a cup, too?" he asked, "Or will the cut be enough for you?" He hoped not. He'd need a little of that Vrykola healing power, if Paziter had any, or it'd take forever to close up.
"Ah... just a cut is good." Good Gods, if he had to wait for the blood to spill into a cup, Paziter might turn himself inside out with unfulfilled blood lust! Admittedly, it would be easier to keep track of how much he was taking if it were measured. But he could be good.
And oh, the dancing around still wasn't quite through, yet. Gripping the knife by the very dull edge, he leaned the handle towards Harlan. "Do you... or do I...?" it was embarrassing to hear the slight whistle to his words through pointed fangs, but Paziter was beyond forcing them to easily managed dullness now.
Thank the Winds for that. Harlan rolled up the second sleeve before taking the handle. He wouldn't have minded if Paziter did it, honestly-- wouldn't have minded an actual bite-- but he had a feeling that if he left it up to the young Vrykola, nothing would get accomplished. He examined the knife briefly before, with a little bit of a wince, he set it to his skin-- not lengthwise, but across the tendons. He didn't want to bleed out for good, after all.
Expecting a little bit of a frenzy if he wasn't quick about it, he pulled the knife away and held up the now-sluggishly-bleeding forearm to Paziter. "Have at," he encouraged with a little grin.
Harlan had dealt with Vrykolas before, it was obvious enough. Paziter's reaction was like clock-work, too, despite attempts to be civil... just as Raven had predicted a day earlier. As soon as beads of red became visible, the blonde's awkward and servile demeanor fell away. He gave a noise between a groan and a growl, descending on Harlan's upthrust arm to take his fill -- 'but only enough for a day or two!'
Though the human's blood was tantalizing enough drain down to a husk, that thought, along with the ever present beating of Harlan's heart, fought through the haze of hunger in Paziter's mind. After a few blissful gulps, he reluctantly brought his focus to bear on sealing the cut, on allowing Harlan's hand to fall as he wiped his hand across his mouth, dug for a kerchief in his pocket, and then wiped his face and his hand down properly. He offered the cloth to the human when he was done, though he was barely paying attention. The satisfaction of having fed was enough to leave his eyes hooded as he concentrated inward. Warmth and comfort... having blood in his stomach cleared his mind completely. Paziter took a conscious breath inward, then sighed like a cat in a sunbeam. "Thank you," he finally acknowledged Harlan again, though he hadn't turned his head or made any other move yet.
Harlan, on the other hand, felt more than a bit light-headed now, and a touch drowsy. His heart never liked it when he gave blood, it wound up fluttering around like a frightened rabbit, for all the rest of him seemed to like it fine. The sensation of a Vrykola just taking like that was heady, in more ways than one; blood leaving the body was a sensation not quite pleasure, not quite pain, but certainly unique. The healing was even more odd-but-fascinating. His non-bleeding hand-- though it was closing up now, too, thank the Winds-- braced himself on the mattress, and he blinked a few times before he registered the offered cloth. First things first, he scooted back, a little shakily, so he could brace his back against the wall. Wouldn't do to fall over before he could clean up, now, would it?
His movements taking the handkerchief and wiping off his arm were slow and careful, and he nodded in response to the slightly-belated thanks. He was used to that, it taking a minute before a Vrykola got around to remembering his or her donor was a person, as well. It was a bit sad, but Harlan, for one, had no problem overlooking the tendency. "Quite welcome," he said, voice a bit faint and breathless. "Feeling better now?"
Paziter registered the words and the humans motions a little less dreamily now, coming back to Trivald as it were. "Uh, yes, much. Thank you," he absently repeated himself. Now he turned, noticed that Harlan was resting against the wall, sounding and looking rather pathetic. The Vrykola frowned, worried that he'd overstepped his boundaries. "Can I get you anything? Is there any food in the kitchen?" He knew that some people liked to eat, or to drink after they'd been fed from. Harlan looked like he could use something.
Paziter stood from the bed, aware that he was probably blocking Harlan from laying down and recovering. He was tempted to leave without even waiting for the other man to answer, but instead he retrieved his knife and wiped it down before housing it, then tucking the soiled napkin in his pocket. That would have to be washed, as the lingering smell of blood would become a nuisance if he left it laying around! He stood by the door, attentive and ready to leave if Harlan simply wanted him to go away.
"Hmm? Hmm." Harlan thought a moment. "Water might be a good idea." Replenish the liquids. If he'd thought further ahead, he would have brought some up, but this had been rather spur-of-the-moment to help the poor boy out, so he hadn't. "Maybe a roll, if there's any left over from dinner. If you don't mind too much...." There was no way he could get down there himself, and no way he'd ask his sister. Paziter looked better, though. Less panicky and awkward. With him standing all the way over by the door, Harlan could look over the top of his spectacles at him and see him clearly.
The human sounded more disoriented than Paziter had thought at first... it probably would have been better to simply go and grab what he thought was needed without waiting. As it was, he gave a nod and closed the door quietly behind him, simultaneously hurrying down the stairs and trying to avoid contact with anybody else... he didn't want to get held up by anyone just at the moment.
Making his way to the kitchen, the Vrykola rummaged for longer than he would have liked, eventually finding the pantry, discovering the various spelled juices by sheer accident (and a sticky sleeve to boot) and some bread, though nothing in roll-size. He scurried back and forth, grabbing a goblet for the juice, juggling some hunks of bread, realizing that he'd probably need a tray and returning to the working part of the kitchen for that, and then organizing everything to be properly carried. Though he'd eaten in the past, especially when he was younger and his sire was trying to keep him comfortable, Paziter had never really relayed a meal to anyone else before -- not this kind of meal, anyways.
He looked the contents of the tray over, decided to go find some water for good measure, and spent some additional time at the well, hauling a bucket up with a full load of water without breaking much of a sweat. It was easier to pretend that he wasn't there when he had something to do, so he was able to avoid any other late-rising humans or Lykos, or wandering, nocturnal Vrykolas. Luckily enough, by the time that he returned to the kitchen, nobody had stolen the small platter of replenishments that he'd left unattended. Who knew if that would be a common courtesy in the future...
In any case, it was a good few minutes before the Vrykolas was knocking on the door to Harlan's room, platter gripped between both hands with a hunk of bread and two cups flanking it. He was both hopeful and nervous. Hopeful because he wanted to foster a good first impression with Harlan, and nervous that he might somehow botch all of this. He absently sucked at his gums, tasting residual blood there and hoping to clear it all away before the human allowed him to enter.
Embarrassingly, Harlan had fallen asleep in the interim, head fallen back against the wall, glasses slightly askew, and fed-from arm curled protectively in his lap. It was late, after all, and the day had been spent showing Arie around, meeting up with new people, and generally being busy. Throw on the top of that the feeding, and he was down for the count. The knock startled him awake and he looked around at the dim room blearily. Oh, right, he'd sent that Vrykola boy for something for him. Or had he dreamed that?
Well, there was one way to find out. Straightening his glasses and brushing his staw-like hair into something a little more orderly, Harlan said, "Come in?"
Through the door, Paziter heard Harlan start and wondered if the human had passed out. He balanced the tray in one hand as he turned the knob and the door creaked open, then, standing in the open doorway for a second, looked Harlan over. He wasn't looking very good, even taking into consideration his previous state of weakness. Paziter frowned guiltily, then set the tray down on the bed, seeing as the stand was not near enough. "Please, eat something. I brought juice." Humans liked juice. He'd liked juice, anyways. "Thank you again," he repeated for the third time. Waiting a beat longer, he tried to decide if he should stay and make sure that Harlan recovered, or retreat and allow the human to have his privacy.
"Oh, you are wonderful," Harlan exclaimed at the sight of food, quite readily grabbing up the juice first for a generous swallow. He wasn't exactly thirsty, but he knew from experience it'd make him feel better. And here the boy had gotten rather more than he'd asked for. "And think nothing of it. I, ah, rather like Vykolas, honestly, and I know it can sometimes be hard for you."
He switched the juice for some bread and took a bite, chewing it down hungrily before adding, "Thank you. This is perfect." If Paziter had been within reach, he'd have patted something in gratitude-- a hand, a shoulder, whatever-- but the hovering didn't quite make that possible. "You can sit, if you like. Or head off downstairs, if an eating, drowsy human is going to bore you." He smiled. "I won't take offense."
The gratitude seemed quite enough to assuage Paziter's worries. He sat himself down, smoothing out his pants and his smock, fiddling with one of the cufflinks on his rolled up sleeve to keep his hands doing something. "I don't mind the company, honestly," Harlan was not a confusing Lykos or an awkward woman, meaning that he was far easier to deal with! "Just... let me know if you want me out, I don't mind going back to work."
Speaking of work... "you said you were interested in what Vrykolas do?" Paziter was curious. What would a human care about technological advances? They had their own brand of magic, didn't they?
"Mm, yesh." Harlan paused to swallow the bread he'd been chowing down on and tried again. "Yes, I am. Quite, actually. I like making things-- little clockwork things, like that--" He pointed to the pile of little things he'd made, on the stack of books against the wardrobe: a tiny collapsible knife set, a little toy that was supposed to walk, a clockwork tooth cleaner. Most of them were nonfunctional but with a general idea behind them that he was trying to refine.
"Most of them need magic to fuel them, at this point, and I don't really know enough to make them work, but I'm trying to figure it all out. Mostly on my own, and with a little help from taking apart things like actual clocks and a couple little machine-things my father bought us." He even managed to put them back together. Mostly.
The Vrykola looked to where Harlan had pointed, then scooched over for a closer examination. "May I?" he reached over to examine the tooth-cleaner first, not aware of what it was. Turning it this way and that, he set it down, gave a look-over of the toy, found the release mechanism and put eyeball to the unmoving gears and wheels inside. "How does the magic move it?" he asked quietly, almost as if to himself. In his experience, winding a spring was prerequisite to most pieces of this type, even if an object (like a clock) only had to be wound once in a very long while.
Motioning for Paziter to do as he wished, Harlan answered the not-quite-aimed-at-him question, "It's like... the same way magic fuels a spell. It just provides the power, it makes the little gears and things move when you tell it to start, and makes them stop when you take it away. It's really fairly simple to attach magic to an object." Or, it should have been, but Harlan wasn't much good at it yet. He understood the principle and the mechanistics behind it, but he just didn't have that delicate of control yet. The last of his attempts had actually blown up on him.
Paziter, the toy still in his hands, cast a look at Harlan as the man spoke. "Isn't it, ah... the women who would do that part?" At least, as far as he knew, all of the servants that worked for his sire had explained magic as such. When Paziter had discovered that he had no way to use magic himself, the thought of magic had quickly lost its glamor. Maybe that was why Harlan was having trouble getting his devices to start!
"Ah... well, yes. Normally." Harlan scratched his head a little, not bothering to wonder how a new Vrykola would know that. Some were more knowledgeable about human cultures than others, given humans were technically food, and it payed to know your food. And then there were Scions, like Elanna. "I'm not really terribly good at the whole 'power source' thing--" Which was only about half true, but it maded a decent explanation. "--so I've been trying to learn magery myself. My control isn't so good yet, though. I tend to lose a spell more often than actually make one work."
"Huh," Paziter was tinkering with the toy again. He didn't have much to offer in terms of magical advice, as he was certain that Harlan either would have asked for help from those who were more knowledgeable, or would be practicing by himself. The only thing that the Vrykola could offer was, "you've already tried to make it work conventionally, right?" It seemed like a fairly obvious beginning point to him!
"Ah, well...." That seemed to be something of a catch-phrase for Harlan, at least when he was taken aback or embarrassed. "Not really? Magic is the conventional way, for us. I haven't figured out anything else." All the "mechanical" goods he'd gotten before had that spark of magic to run them; Vrykola-made goods were just plain too expensive. And he was smart, but not that smart.
Paziter stared at the human for a moment, then fought down a grin and failed horribly. It was probably the first time that he'd actually smiled, but the leap of logic that Harlan had seemed to make was just... well, a little absurd. He turned the toy over in his hands and ducked his head as if to examine it more closely, hoping to hide his expression lest the human be offended. "Well, uh... we could start there. It's probably easier to figure out what the hand does to start the clockwork before substituting the hand to begin with... I think. I don't know."
Paziter looked up again and held the toy forward in his upturned palm. "I could try to help you figure it out. I'd like to find out, myself." He was really better at encrusting things in precious metals and gems; forging metal alloys and playing with smelted metal was a far cry from tinkering with clockwork gears and springs!
Given the state he was in, and the fact that Paziter seemed like a good kid, Harlan didn't mind the amused grin. Or the poorly-hid amused grin, for that matter. He grinned, back, but it turned into a delighted expression as Paziter suggested they work together. "Could you? I've been trying to get one of your people to tell me about non-magical clockworks ever since I got here, and no one seems to know anything! Or if they did, they haven't wanted to tell me. Even if you just want to work with me to figure it out, the two of us, that would be more than anyone else seems willing to do."
"Okay," Paziter was quick to agree. He smiled more openly, this time genuinely pleased. If he'd known that simply loitering around the main hall would have such excellent results, he'd have tried it much sooner! "I would... well, I'd like that." He hoped that Harlan was the nocturnal type... he certainly seemed interested enough in the Vrykolas' background to be a night-goer. That was Paziter's first impression, anyways.
"My other toolkit is downstairs. Um. With the screw drivers and spanners and all that. I could... I can probably mail my sire to have parts sent in if we need them, too!" He felt almost giddy. Fresh blood in his system and fresh friendship to keep his mind occupied, with fresh projects to usher in a new era at the compound! This was... exciting!
Smiling quite cheerfully, back, Harlan began to say something-- then got caught in a tremendous yawn, which he politely covered with a hand. "Oh. Pardon me." That seemed the signal, to him, that he really ought to be sleeping soon. "Would it be terribly rude of me to kick you out for the evening, Paziter?" he asked, giving the vrykola an apologetic look. "It has been a long day...."
"Ah..." Paziter realized the yawn for what it was, and remembered that 'after midnight' for Harlan meant something much different from what it meant for him. "Oh. Yes, not to worry. Just... knock on my door the next time you're available?" He thought that the meeting with the human was going well enough. He shouldn't have any reason to worry that perhaps Harlan would disappear into the day and never talk to him again, right? "I'm in the basement. Block... um." What block was he in again? It had only been two nights since he got here. He hadn't memorized everything yet! "Block twenty-two? No, twenty-three, I think. I'm in the back room on the left."
"That'd be room two," Harlan grinned a bit. "Sure, Paziter, I'd like that. I'll try to stop by some time tomorrow, but if not then, definitely the day after. All right?" He did think he'd wound up with a new friend. How he kept winding up with Vrykola friends, he didn't know, but he wasn't complaining.
Paziter smiled, rising from his seat and carefully setting the toy back with the other little items. "Okay," he affirmed. "Thank you again, for tonight," he added, taking up his own kit and sliding it under his arm again. He reached for the door, dipped a quick bow to Harlan, and then slipped out of the room to return to the stairs.
Harlan might simply not be complaining, but Paziter felt more like cheering. He wasn't the one doing everything wrong, maybe, after all!