Maybe it starts as a frightened sort of fascination, but that's about to morph into flabbergasted excitement in all of three seconds flat.
Literally all it takes is one word: Ninth. And every ounce of lingering wariness and distrust melts off her features. Suddenly Clarke's transported back to driving in the desert with Palamedes and listening to him talk about his home world with only the vague distraction of the open road before them. She does that a lot, just sit and keep her ears primed around him; has picked up on the finer points of his particular brand of magic by now, as well as integrated a bit of his lexicon into hers. But has also just absorbed the parts of his story he'd been willing to share and taken them to heart, enough to belatedly recognize when coming face to face with another key player. The Sixth were librarians, steeped in knowledge. The Eight were zealots who thought themselves above reproach. The Fifth were spirit magicians, the sort they'd desperately needed throughout the month of October. The heirs of the Third dabbled in flesh magic, but he wouldn't trust them as far as he could throw them. And the Ninth, he'd told her, were bone adepts. Had spoken as fondly about Harrowhark Nonagesimus's failures as he did her successes, as much as he did her —
"Never seen one," Clarke confirms, and there's a whole new level of conviction filtering into her voice now. Her eyes dance, she practically beams. "But I've heard a lot about you, Gideon Nav."
no subject
Literally all it takes is one word: Ninth. And every ounce of lingering wariness and distrust melts off her features. Suddenly Clarke's transported back to driving in the desert with Palamedes and listening to him talk about his home world with only the vague distraction of the open road before them. She does that a lot, just sit and keep her ears primed around him; has picked up on the finer points of his particular brand of magic by now, as well as integrated a bit of his lexicon into hers. But has also just absorbed the parts of his story he'd been willing to share and taken them to heart, enough to belatedly recognize when coming face to face with another key player. The Sixth were librarians, steeped in knowledge. The Eight were zealots who thought themselves above reproach. The Fifth were spirit magicians, the sort they'd desperately needed throughout the month of October. The heirs of the Third dabbled in flesh magic, but he wouldn't trust them as far as he could throw them. And the Ninth, he'd told her, were bone adepts. Had spoken as fondly about Harrowhark Nonagesimus's failures as he did her successes, as much as he did her —
"Never seen one," Clarke confirms, and there's a whole new level of conviction filtering into her voice now. Her eyes dance, she practically beams. "But I've heard a lot about you, Gideon Nav."