"Isn't it obvious, dahling?" Asked Ember, almost shocked.

"SURELY you don't think people half the world away somehow mysteriously comply with the same dreary conventions we endure over HERE dahling?"

He folded his hand demurely in his lap as he sat down gracefully in the free chair in the room.

"Dahling, every culture has magic to one extent or another-- assuming they have sensitives that is-- over time, practice of the art gets colored by the culture's unique views and beliefs, and the magic in turn colors the culture. Its like 'the chicken and the egg' dahling. Very OLD cultures tend to think thier magic is superior, by virtue of being older-- but magic itself is older than any of us dahling. Nobody has a monopoly on understanding it, not even me."

That same coy smile graced his face once more.

"HILARIOUSLY dahling, that desire to prove that 'their' way is 'the correct' way is precisely why they hold the symposia dear. At fairly regular intervals, the university hosts guest speakers and demonstrators from the more prominent groups and regions, and they have dreary, dreadful arguments about it. Of course, I drew my own conclusions-- what was consistently the same dahling? What was universal about magic as an artform? 'INTENT' is always present dahling."