"Arcturus" is his other name—
I'd rather call him "Star."
It's very mean of Science
To go and interfere! ~Emily Dickinson
Anark the Minecraftian would dream...
He would not dream of his square world, nor was it quite round, it was something strange and in between, its edges hard and soft, familiar and alien.
“You can build it, you know.” A strangers voice touched his ears, there was a man with him in the strange dream space. His head was on fire. “It’s not that they are lying... they just don’t know how to do it.” No, it was not his head that was on fire, it was a white stick in his mouth, he was breathing in the smoke, it became part of him. He dropped the stick, and snuffed out the fire with his coal black boot.
Twain crossed his arms and faced the Elemental, smiling in amusement. “You’ll have to tell me more about your world sometime, sounds cool. Coffee? Got it!” He crossed to a machine branded with the now familiar Siva-Cup emblem. Twain pushed the emblem, a light began to glow and the machinery softly hummed, within seconds a dark steaming stream of coffee spilled into a thick mug.
Rozalind answered the questions of geography: “Russia is the largest country on our planet. She paused, she found herself unsure how to describe a nation to one who had no point of reference. Yet, somehow he spoke English. "Do you read, Sentrant?" Is that how they referred to themselves? "Give him your tablet." It was really Zesiro's tablet, but Twain always seemed to have it on hand, he considered anything (especially to good stuff) owned by his brother to be mutual 'family property'.
Twain placed the coffee and tablet before the elemental. He demonstrated the basics of the touch-screen technology by googling 'Russia' and opening it's Wikepidia page. Twain smirked, watching the reaction. Did they have something similar to the internet on his home-world? It seemed unlikely, from what Deuce had said thusfar, Twain guessed it was a more primal magical place than Earth.
"As for me... I practice something called a Necromancer, yup, magic and death working hand in hand. You'll find stuff on there about it, but nothing that's true, I wouldn't bother." He sipped his own cup of black coffee trying to sound lofty. "I can't talk too much about it. It's kinda a secret."
Rozalind rolled her eyes. “Don’t confuse him with all that.” She turned to the elemental. “We are going to a very sparsely populated part of this country, a monastery far away from any of the large cities. A monastery is primarily a place of God, do you have religion on Sentence? The consultant we seek is an unusual case, he is also an authority on magic, like the magic used in the ritual. Unlike what you have seen so far in Trident and amongst your companions, Magic is not common knowledge here on Earth.”