milliways_bar | (no subject)

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When Autor steps through the door today, his clothes remain the same: white pants, oversized gray sweater, and glasses. What changes are the ears. Not his, necessarily--those still remain human--but he sprouts fuzzy, gray, and pointed kitten ears on top of his head with a soft, "Oh!" The tail is also new, and telegraphs his body language as the tip curves upward in agitation.

"Really?" he calls up to the ceiling. "Come on!"

Experimentally, he brushes his fingers against one of his fuzzy new appendages--and tears his hand away, blushing. They point in different directions, moving independently of one another to show his ambivalence with the costume.

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"What sort of magic can you perform?" Autor says, his ears perking forward and slightly to the side again. "Magical societies without magic--how droll!"

"I know a spell to show where magic is coming from - though of course of limited use here. One to appear as a shadow, and one to put out a flame, newly learned."

"Interesting," Autor says, inclining his head. His ears rest in a relaxed state, as does his tail. "How do you learn new spells if magic has mostly died out?"

"I learned that one here. But there are still many written down, to which I have access... if they can be made to work."

"Oh, I see," Autor says, blinking at him. His ears swivel about. "Did you learn that one from a book or did someone teach you?"

"Someone taught me", Childermass tells him. "A man named Abe no Seimei."

"I haven't met him," Autor says, inclining his head. His ears point straight up, as does his tail. "Congratulations on learning a new spell. I hope you learn many more around here. Do you think you'll always have to cast them in secret?"

"That depends. If there is ever great need to cast them where I may be seen, I will do so."

"Even at the risk of your job?" Autor says, blinking at him. His ears lay flat. "What sort of need would supplant that?"

"That, I cannot tell. A threat to my life or my master's, perhaps."

"Fair enough," Autor says, inclining his head. His tail points upward, though the tip curves down. "Are you often in danger?"

Childermass laughs a little. "Not in his service, unless it be from angry would-be book buyers who were beaten to it. Mr Norrell has set himself to have all the books of magic."

"Really? Why's that?" Autor says, tilting his head. His ears flick the air one after the other, and his tail swishes back and forth. "I can't imagine he'll be able to collect them all."

"There are none published any more, nor have been for a hundred years or more, so it is not so difficult as you might think. As for why, he feels they are only safe in his hands."

"I see," Autor says, his ears flicking the air. "I don't blame him for wanting to hoard knowledge. I wonder if it's easier to do so because magic isn't respectable anymore?"

"It may be so. There are many books about magic, but they are little more than histories, with no spells to speak of."

"And still no one knows why magic just died out," Autor says, shaking his head. His tail wraps around his legs again. "Is Mr. Norrell wealthy?"

"We have some idea. It began when the Raven King went away, and I believe he is the one who stopped up the source as he left. But why he would do such a thing... Yes, he is very wealthy. He inherited all his uncle had to leave, an estate and a good deal of money."

"The Raven King?" Autor says, tilting his head. His ears perk up again, resting in a forward state. "Mr. Norrell sounds fortunate, then. How long have you been his servant?"

"The Raven King would take some explaining." He moves to the second question. "Sixteen years. I was his valet, to begin, but I was a very poor valet. Now I see to his business for him, and keep the household in order."

"The Raven King sounds interesting already," Autor says, flashing a quick smile. His ears perk up, as does his tail.

Childermass laughs quietly. "Well, then. He was born mortal, but raised in Faerie. Returned at the age of fifteen or so and claimed a kingdom in the North."

"He must have an interesting set of morals if he was raised by Faerie," Autor says, blinking at him. His ears flick the air, as if testing it. "Why would his leaving stop up the well of magic?"

"It may be that all our magic comes in from there. If he closed the door behind him, as it were..."

"That makes sense, I suppose," Autor says, inclining his head. His tail wraps around his hips. "So you think you were just borrowing magic from the land of Fae?"