The scholar takes note of the predatory gaze with amusement; it is not often he is the one being sized up as if he were the meal rather than the hunter. A very interesting specimen, this Crow. Perhaps this visit would not be as routine has he expected.
"You are looking at me as if you are a thirsty man in a desert who has just seen an oasis," the vampire observes, eyes glittering with a mixture of threat and mirth before they begin to walk through the gate. "It is not often someone is so bold in my presence."
The city's bustle does, however, take his attention for the moment. It feels like home. It makes him long for the Grand Bazaar of Constantinople. For days he cannot return to. Even the scale of it takes him back to those times and he finds himself reminiscing in silence during their lengthy walk until he is woken from his reverie by the question posed to him about what exactly it is that he does.
"Thaumaturgy." The answer is given with no elaboration, as doing so would likely cause Phyre to have to wipe Crow's memory; House Tremere was very secretive about their dealings and even mentioning their clan discipline was taboo. However, considering the diplomatic mission and importance of this particular errand, he was sure he could at least mention this. Much less mortal knowledge being what it is, it was likely assumed to be something else entirely.
"I am a Magister by trade." What he really means is, he deals in blood magic and curses. Rituals and unseen shadow. These words go unspoken and hang heavy behind the weighted terms, lingering just beyond the acceptable rhetoric he is allowed to speak. Gazing at his escort out of the corners of his eyes with that sanguine stare, he raises a brow.
"You ask out of familiarity with the art? Or mere curiosity?"
no subject
"You are looking at me as if you are a thirsty man in a desert who has just seen an oasis," the vampire observes, eyes glittering with a mixture of threat and mirth before they begin to walk through the gate. "It is not often someone is so bold in my presence."
The city's bustle does, however, take his attention for the moment. It feels like home. It makes him long for the Grand Bazaar of Constantinople. For days he cannot return to. Even the scale of it takes him back to those times and he finds himself reminiscing in silence during their lengthy walk until he is woken from his reverie by the question posed to him about what exactly it is that he does.
"Thaumaturgy." The answer is given with no elaboration, as doing so would likely cause Phyre to have to wipe Crow's memory; House Tremere was very secretive about their dealings and even mentioning their clan discipline was taboo. However, considering the diplomatic mission and importance of this particular errand, he was sure he could at least mention this. Much less mortal knowledge being what it is, it was likely assumed to be something else entirely.
"I am a Magister by trade." What he really means is, he deals in blood magic and curses. Rituals and unseen shadow. These words go unspoken and hang heavy behind the weighted terms, lingering just beyond the acceptable rhetoric he is allowed to speak. Gazing at his escort out of the corners of his eyes with that sanguine stare, he raises a brow.
"You ask out of familiarity with the art? Or mere curiosity?"