[hr][hr][color=39b54a][h1][center]Karlus Marsh[/center][/h1][/color][hr][hr]
Karlus watched as these two virtual strangers argued in front of him, secrets spilling from their lips as they did so. He still had one arm clutched to his body, cradling it, as if it had somehow been wounded. This new stranger, Sacha, had reached out to touch him as he had spoken before. Karlus had flinched away, but for a moment, he had been sure that his fingers had made contact with wrist. Where they had brushed him he felt it burn against his skin. Or was he just imagining things? Remembering other hands, other fingers that had once burned. 

He pushed those thoughts away. He was not there anymore.

Slowly, Karlus released the tension in his body. His shoulders shrugged back down, he released the grip on his own arm and let it fall back to his side. In the intense conversation between Sacha and Aemma, he seemed to be forgotten. Or at least, Sacha seemed to have forgotten that he was there. Aemma was facing the both of them, he could see the pleading for discretion in her eyes, annoyance bordering on anger. But she humoured him it seemed. Why though, Karlus could not understand. 

Karlus knew a thing or two about secrets. He had kept plenty of his own at the college. It seemed he would have to keep more here to survive in the Order. He was resigned to that, this world was one which was hostile to his kind, secrecy was the price that must be paid for greater freedom, greater power. Secrecy was shield that guarded him and those like him, those like Aemma. 

And here Sacha was, spilling secrets in front of him. He made a note not to let him into his confidence, as much as he let anyone in. He might might act kind, but what did that matter when a careless word could get someone strung up by a rope - or worse. 

Almost as if he knew Karlus was thinking about him, Sacha glanced over at that moment. Karlus did not return his gaze. He would just keep his head down, none of this involved him as far as he was concerned. It was then that Aemma asked him if he had any objections. He looked up, eyes darting between the two of them. Did they think he was somehow part of this now?

[b][color=39b54a]"Me? Objections?"[/color][/b] He weakly repeated the end of Aemma's statement back to her. [b][color=39b54a]"I'm in no position to object to anything. It doesn't involve me... although..."[/color][/b]

Although he was interested in the sickness, he realised. He had seen its horrors first hand, he understood why the Order was here to combat it. But there were other things he had heard too, back in College. Most Astorians cared little for what happened over the border in their fog blighted neighbour, but there had been some scholars who had devoted time to its study, in particular the creatures it created. As a healer he had read a few of those books that spoke of the curious effects of the fog. It could kill, destroy, drive mad, corrupt... but it could also give power. 

There were witches, he knew, that somehow derived their power from the fog. Beings who were gifted with agility, strength, and endurance in exchange for being forbidden from the light of sun and consuming the blood of others. If one understand the fog and its sickness, perhaps one could understand the powers it also bestowed. 

Now that... that was interesting to Karlus.

He stood up slightly straighter, and looked the old dark elf directly in her eyes for once. 

[b][color=39b54a]"...perhaps it could. If you wanted."[/color][/b]