The Aspiring Archivist

"Do you feel safer when you're around people who care about you?"

The man with dark eyes from before entered. His staff was glowing, fiery lines tracing it. If it was magic, it wasn't a kind she'd seen before, even in her extensive experience.

He locked eyes with her for a moment too long, then began to walk. @Ookla the Prehistoric

"It's okay if you do." He smiled. "Anyway, I didn't ask if you should."

"Ah. Anything you want to talk about? Or would you just like company?"

Polton worked in his room, reading Traces. Every use of magic left them, threads and remains. They each contained information, of you knew how to look. Not many people did. That Decay spirit had been especially powerful, which was helpful. The Traces were stronger. It didn't make the process and calculations much faster, but it was easier on him, at least. A fiery thread appeared in the air to his eyes, trailing from his freshly glowing staff. Lovely.

"How are you doing?"

"Need anything?"

"I... think I'm fine. Let's just walk."

After a moment, it opened. "Hey."

"Hm." He again affixed her with an intense haze, then walked away.

He gave her six. "For your trouble."

"Oh, I wasn't planning on not paying. I just thought I would let you know, since there could be some minor conflict in making the arrest."

"I don't have a name. Just a potential location. I deal in Traces. I'll just need to wait here for a while to pinpoint this person."

"They would not be unsafe, I assure you." His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, and his gaze was piercing.

"I'm looking for a particular person of some importance. I had a hunch I might find them here."

He did so. He was nothing if not orderly.

A man walked in, trimly dressed and carrying a metal cane.

Polton tapped his cane against the wood of the palace's wall. It gave easily, splintering at a touch. How funny. It looks solid, but it has a rotten core. Control. That was how Polton lived. It was essential. To allow others to dictate themselves, to relinquish external control would be to plunge the world into disorder. Many disagreed about this, and it told a lot about them that their way of protesting was such destruction. He focused his mind briefly, and lines of fiery light burst fourth in lines on his cane, making an intricate pattern as they criss-crossed and weaved along the metal. He gritted his teeth. This fire, like any, could be controlled. It just required the right fuel, and right focus. He ignored the screams of agony that filled his mind.

He stood up, and winced slightly. @Ookla the Prehistoric

"Want to keep walking?"

"Okay." He smiled warmly at her.

"No need. I owe it to you. But also, I need something, or someone, to care about. I realized that I really didn't back there when I thought I was going to die."

"Then I'll do it with you." He said it with no hesitation.