Fait Accompli: An Unwilling Tutelage

[Seperallis]

"No, no, let us stay a spell. Come," Nevina said as she softly patted a mossy patch beside her on the tree. "We have walked since the sunrise, give your feet some rest." Invite sent, she took a long, deep breath before audibly releasing her fatigue in a sharp sigh, previously tense muscles finally finding relaxation as she accepted the mild euphoria of a simple sit-down. Still in the prime of her life by elven standards, centuries were still centuries, and the toll of time was starting to ever more insistently make itself known. Maybe Elke was too spry and youthful to notice the aches of the trail, a quality Nevina quietly wished she still possessed while she stretched her battered feet.

The solitary pillowy cloud above that aided Elke earlier puffed lazily along. Much like yesterday, the skies remeained clear save for that one blemish, and already the sun, a cruel overseer, pressed down from its perch.

"Divination is a notoriously, well, finicky art as you probably know," the elf spoke, eyes still transfixed upon the heavens as she fished beneath folds of robes for her waterskin. She continued, "Oh, you do get exactly what you put into it, but that is the problem; if you knew everything you needed for the perfect divination, then you wouldn't need the divination. It is a somewhat ironic paradox."

Something approaching a smile broached her lips as she looked down from the sky. In her hands, pulled from within the folds of her robes, she held a plain deerskin pouch, a hole on one end plugged with a simple corked stopper. "Artifacts are the worst method for it, though. Rituals have their own problems, of course, but rituals of one stripe or another tap into the flow of time and magic, the lifeblood, the lifestreams of the world...which is inherently perfect, of course. It is the flaws of man that introduce error into the divinations. Flawed ideas, presumptions, incomplete knowledge, biases, incorrect or inefficient methods, all the imperfections no matter how little add error, but some can at least be forgiven of us through the performance, you see; of artifacts, all these imperfections are literally etched in, well, stone or whatever else."

For emphasis, Nevina reached out a hand and placed a fingertip to the tiny pinprick scab on Elke's forehead, then let her hand return to her lap. "To speak nothing of the impurities in its materials, limitations of skill, the diminished integrity owing to the inherent transient nature of both men and their creations...mmm, I am rambling again."

Nevina took a pause, using the time to drink of the deerskin now in her lap. She hadn't meant this diversion to turn into either a rant or a lecture, but as she continued, she enjoyed sharing what she knew with someone, especially both a captive and apparently willing audience. Back in the abbey, she tended to keep with herself as others tended to distract her from her studies. However, if she was out here away from her studies anyway, what harm could there be in, say, an apprentice of sorts?

Maybe Forlag had been on to something; best to keep that opinon to onself, though.

"Thank you, regardless. For your demonstration." Nevina nodded, trying to not at all sound like she was completely ripping apart on the mere concept of artifact use as a legitimate form of magicking. "It was...informative. I would return the favor, but, well, when it comes to divination, it is a very fluid art. It is not like the hard sciences of alchemy and thaumaturgy - and even the many softer -mancy schools - where 'put X in and get Y out' is the norm. Divinations rely upon your personal relationship with the world, knowing who you are and where you fit with absolute certainty. Most can go their entire lives without grasping those secrets to divination; some go mad over the quest itself."

An edge of Nevina's lips curled slightly at the last mention. Her gaze drifted across the field.