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[color=7e5e7f]“Music is its own magic I think.”[/color] A part of her initially bristled at the question— the suggestion that it might not be her own skill— but she understood and let no trace color her words. To witness such a performance was to question every other, to wonder what precisely was the unknown element, that secret variable, that elevated it so highly. To think of the supernatural was a compliment, an admission that her performance seemed to deny reality itself. The cadet— Amalee she said— knew the steps to Rivka's tremendous relief. She might not much [i]enjoy[/i] the waltz but she would certainly do it justice and Amalee's own skill would be a significant help. The lazy smile that crossed her face spoke of a pleasant surprise. [color=7e5e7f]“But no it doesn't involve my magic.”

“I learned a long time before I came here. My parents taught me some, my [i]babushka[/i] more. It was our preeminent occupation before the Void.”[/color] The Ars Magi shrugged, a motion that sent ripples through her long purple hair that she had studiously ignored (had any occurred, she hadn't heard them now had she?) any hints that perhaps her usual style was not proper for her uniform. She kept track of the timing without seeming to pay any true attention, matching any changes to the tempo within a beat or two and leaving her mind free to pay attention to the finer points of her conversation. [color=7e5e7f]“We still practice it all but it isn't our means of income anymore. Not really. A little money on the side but the true purpose is artistry itself. Art is the most human thing of all, Amalee Kraus, for nothing save life itself encompasses the breadth of human experience so vividly. Words can be twisted, speakers can fail to convey with true fidelity the feelings of their heart. Art can never fail to make you feel [i]exactly[/i] what it is meant to if you are willing to learn to express it.”

“Magic is its own art that way. There has never been, nor can there ever be, an Ars Magi the same as myself. Even with the same Elementum they will never have my Armagus, my Gladius, my Parma, none of the vital essence that makes me my own self. An imitator could, perhaps, come close. Could learn to echo the things that I have learned to do. But never be [i]precisely[/i] the same.”[/color] As if to illustrate her point a small, blue-hot will o' wisp of flame appeared stark against one red eye and moved to the other between blinks before disappearing entirely when Rivka winked. [color=7e5e7f]“Not that they could hope to match me, anyway.”

“What brings you to Palmyra, Amalee Kraus? The [i]devushka[/i]— Miss Rosemarie, over there— is from Hasta too. Why become a cadet?”[/color]