Despite the rain growing stronger, Jailin did not try to hurry the youth. Instead, he stood silently, waiting for the first impression to take hold, until Dagmor himself looked at him and asked his question.

"Quite!" the older elf answered cheerfully, wiping a rivulet of water from his forehead. "My home? I suppose that I do come back here no matter what. I don't actually live in the city, though. Anyway, we've two choices. We can walk straight to the Academy--jumping there is impossible without the rector's immediate permission, I'm afraid--or we can wait the weather out in a nearby tavern."

The rain's cool droplets were somehow not uncomfortable for either of the duo--an attentive and magically-attuned eye could notice a spell on the wizard's cloak whir into effect.

Jailin opened his mouth to speak—and then paused, as if he suddenly thought of something he forgot. When he finally spoke, his tone was light.

"Right. I've got a day or two set aside to get you settled, so no, unless an emergency happens, I'm not in a hurry. Food and some answers it is, then. Follow me."

And he set off at a fairly brisk pace.

The two of you had to hold on to the railings as you climbed a level of the treehouse city. By the time the two of you finally made it into a small wooden door, the streets were completely empty and the wind's rueful singing had turned into a roar. Jailin let Dagmor in first, then shut the door against the raging wind with some effort.

"Whew, I haven't seen a storm this fierce here in years!" he said by way of greeting the tavern's proprietor, an elven woman with long, flowing auburn locks, who was dressed in a simple robe and apron.

The woman smiled at him politely and replied, "The druids have been having a difficult time with the weather lately. Long time no see, Jailin. And I don't believe I know you, young man?"

"Hello, Mylis," he returned the smile, then took off his cloak to shake the water off. "Have a table for two wet travellers?"

"Certainly," she gestured to a small table in the corner, big enough for two or maybe three. "Settle in, and when you're ready, I'll tell you the day's menu. I take it you'd both like hot drinks? Mulled cider, perhaps?"

"Sounds good to me. Dagmor?"

There were already a few patrons at the tavern—most of them elves, but also one halfling. The two of you earned more than one curious look as you settled down.

"Great," Dagmor nodded to Jailin and followed him.

Having entered into the tavern before his companion, the young man stepped behind Jailin's back hastily. He didn’t interrupt the older elf during his dialogue with the tavern’s proprietor — only replied to her question with a curt "Dagmor, ma'am."

He scanned the tavern fleetingly but attentively, noting the visitors watching him.

"Mulled cider is fine, thanks," he answered to Jailin and, following suit, took off his own cloak and took a seat at the table by the wall.

Now a curious visitor could see that the youth had a rather unique appearance. His slight built, pale skin and black hair were typical for a high elf, but his frostily-blue eyes with vertical pupils, barely visible weave of scales on his face and a diadem of ice outgrowths running from his temples to his nape couldn’t be anything but the marks of dragonic origin. He also had such outgrowths on his hands, mostly hidden under the sleeves of the shirt. His fingers ended with long sharp claws, seemingly to be made of glass.

His clothing was rather ordinary, definitely intended to be comfortable rather than luxurious, but the inspective eye could notice that it was made of first-class textile and leather.
He had a medium-sized leather bag, now set down beside him, and a mythril long sword in a leather scabbard decorated with silver tracery.

Отредактировано Aldagmor (2015-05-23 02:26:41)

When the halfling heard about a fun student life, he smiled in anticipation, giving away to the curious eye that this was the life he himself was headed for.
However, the halfling didn't look like a magician--more like a traveler used to wandering in places with a lot of sun and heat, but an abscence of pleasant forest shade.

Отредактировано Tanda (2015-05-24 16:48:18)

"You have my word," Jailin replied in a serious tone, but his eyes were smiling. And then raised an eyebrow and chuckled as he watched the half-dragon drink. "Ah. I should have remembered hot drinks were lost on you. Hot food, too, probably... There's just raw meat if you want that; some have a taste for it."

"As for the admission procedure, it's really rather simple. It mostly consists of an interview with the rector. We don't exactly hold competitions here: mostly it's on a first come-first serve basis. You and she figure out what you want to study as well as the matter of payment. Considering your financial situation, you're probably going to be doing work for the Academy. It's not back-breaking work--two days a week, usually, so about sixteen to twenty hours. You will still have plenty of free time."

When Jailin began his explanation, most of the people in the tavern lost interest--apparently, these were very basic things indeed. Meanwhile, he continued:

"There are first-choice courses--things you want to take no matter what--and second-choice, which are things you can concede to others for this year if the teachers have too many potential students. If you concede, you get first choice for the following year. Then in a week or two the schedules will be settled, and you'll be told whether every professor you want can take the required number of students on.

Classes will depend on how many you want to take. Usually the advised number is no more than three courses per week, as you're expected to do a lot of your own research. My experience was somewhat different, but generally people say that strikes a good balance between having a life and having an education."

Having said that, Jailin sipped his drink and looked at Dagmor, as if asking whether he had any questions.

"Hmm?" Jailin's eyes flickered over to the next table for a moment. "She has office hours, before noon from Starday to Sunday. You simply come in and ask, it's no big deal."

"As much as it is within my power, rshrshzschshshr prkrrrschshr kprrzschshz *," the halfling said politely. His Draconic was surprisingly clear and free, as if he hadn't learned the language by poring over textbooks but had been speaking it for years.

* "esteemed descendant of the dragon's blood" (Draconic, a respectful appeal to the dragons and half-dragons)

Отредактировано Tanda (2015-05-30 19:56:53)

The older mage raised his eyebrows in some surprise.

"That is an interesting dialect. Za'Reyn, if I'm not mistaken?" he guessed. And then looked at Dagmor. "Dragons here often take an... Active part in ruling humanoid lands. Za'Reyn is one such land, ruled over by silver dragons. Still, there are no wyrms in our lands: the closest ones are the bronze dragons of the West. We have neither quarrels nor alliances with any dragons."

Then he turned his attention back to the halfling.

"And thus Dagmor is right, there is no need to be so formal. I'm Jailin. Well met."

Dagmor looked somewhat embarrassed. Not just anyone would notice, but Jailin definitely could.

He was used to people communicating either indifferently or aggressively. But the halfling answered him simply and politely and, to top it all, seemed to be really thankful. All in all, it put the half-dragon at a stand. 

"Erm, that’s okay… Aycherr. If you have more questions to Jailin and he doesn’t mind, you can ask them now. I’ll wait."

Отредактировано Aldagmor (2015-06-22 00:04:30)

"Likewise," the older elf answered simply, and would have turned his attention back to the half-dragon, were it not for Mylis bringing the two their food: a steaming-hot plate of rice and meat, and a steak fried only so far as to keep the juices in.

"Thanks," he smiled up at the woman. "The speed is appreciated."

"You two both look quite hungry," answered she with a laugh. "You can go on being scrawny all you want, but I'm sure you, Dagmor, would want to put some meat on those bones."

Mylis chuckled at that.

"Well, do enjoy, then! And do tell me if you'd like anything else," and she went over to the next table to take more orders.

The "one of the best meals in my life" comment went by largely unnoticed — save for Jailin, who turned briefly to glance at the halfling again. The look was thoughtful, as if filing something away for future reference.

After the beef stew and grilled vegetables Mylis brought dessert - baked apples with honey and cinnamon. These apples were a usual dish in many homes here. However, the halfling was eating dessert and relishing every little piece. Such a dreamy expression would befit someone listening to beautiful music.
When the halfling finished his dessert, he paid, politely thanked Mylis, and went out.

Отредактировано Tanda (2015-06-29 01:55:00)