The Mistake of Acting Like a Lower Being

[Basil Gillingson] Basil waited. He had given the initiate a call, giving instructions to arrive at his home. Her training in Ars Manes would begin today. He did not mention the reason for the delays in teaching her or give an excuse. He merely expected her to be there. He sat in the living room...reading a book, eyes glancing now and then to the mantle at a clock, watching the second and minute hand...

----

The home itself is not anything special. Its moderate and urbane, just another building within Chicago itself. It could even be something akin to the house in the Cosby Family show, tucked between other buildings where the rooms were divided into floors to best fit the space. Built in red brick and a well-maintained hand rail going to the door, it wasn't quite one would picture for the arrogant Basil Gillingson.

[Morgan] Morgan is, it must be said, exactly punctual. She comes bearing a messenger bag in which she has a laptop, a bottle of water, and other, similar things (as well as the wand Ashley gave her before the trip to China) - for note-taking, for study, and so on. She's dressed neatly and simply in khaki shorts and a deep red polo cut to fit a girl rather than a boy; she's preppy-comfortable, in other words. The knock on Basil's door is confident bordering on arrogant, though she is ever properly respectful of her elders, her teachers.

[Basil Gillingson] Basil closes the book...he looks at the clock and arches a brow before he opens the door, beckoning her to come inside. The hallway leading to the living room is sparse with merely a coat rack and a slender table to set things on. Even a small bowl to lay keys in. He doesn't congratulate her or tell her a job well done on showing up at time, though likely he would have heaped scorn upon her if she had been late. He walks past the living room, pausing only to collect his tome before he moved out. The living room itself is more decorated. There is a fine Persian rug, a comfortable reading chair angled to see both the time as well as the couch for visitors. There is a glass table designed to resemble stained glass window akin to a monastery. The mantle also has a fine clock sitting on it, akin to the face of a grandfather clock but without the swinging pendulum beneath it.

He then begins to move up the stairs, hand resting against the banister before coming to a doorway that doesn't look like a normal part of the configuration. In fact, the way its transplanted into the wall seems like it couldn't even be possibly part of the architecture of the building. He opens it, stepping inside...and into another world as it seemed he was walking on air. Raging storm clouds of grey and red roll around underneath, though there is no wind blowing within..nor the sound of a storm with the exception of trembling thunder in the distance and yet seeming to sound so near to them. She could also hear something else...it was faint at first...but steadily louder...clock ticking. But not just one...but many. The more she paid attention to it, the more one could tell it was an infinite amount of clocks...all ticking in exact unison, like a chorus of voices telling the time.

She was in Basil's sanctum. His haven of magical thought and a small peak into the inner psyche of the Hermetic. He walked along, mindless of the flash of lightning in the horizon that almost could blind if one was staring directly at it. He approached a series of shelves, placing the tome along it before moving to another shelf...eying the contents of vials, jars, and other odds and ends.

[Morgan] "Hello to you too," she mutters, and collects the wand and bottle of water from her bag before following him in the same silence he leads - it's not pleasant or comfortable, but then, she doesn't really expect either from Basil. The details of his home are taken in curiously, though it strikes her more as a set than a home, on initial impression . . .

And then they're going through a door that shouldn't be, and walking on storm clouds. This is new, and a bit nerve wracking at first - disconcerting, certainly. She's in his sanctum and she touches absolutely nothing without permission, but she does study everything about it as she walks around. The bindings of books are studied first - these always fascinate her and always have - and then the shelf of esoteric things in various containers. It's terribly interesting, really, and so very different than Ashley's sanctum, or Solomon's, which seem just a part of the house (or apartment) made somehow more.

"What's in those?"

[Basil Gillingson] "Ritual components. Some of the materials degrade if they're not within a realm of magical flux. I assume it is some aspect of paradox or the like that causes the entropy to them...so I tend to keep them here. Some of the items are ordinary, others not so much."

The book bindings she noticed...one was the familiar tome bound in what looked like dried human skin...another has a scale hide...likely Basil would tell her it was from a dragon or drake. There were also curious papyrus scrolls laid out on the shelf as well as rolled up contracts with a wax seal bearing a large romanticized H within a family crest.

"You will be assisting me in preparation tonight. I have to make some new contracts for a coming skirmish I will be involved in so I have to beseech a few of the Umbrood for their assistance. It involves a lot of haggling and in some cases, intimidating them to let them know they are either equal or inferior to me."

He paused, taking a vial of of something and setting it aside. It had a pale ichor to it. Another vial looked to contained ground chalk...this one looked like blood...he then reached to the top shelf, dragging a thick tomed leather bound book with a keylock and Solomic seal engraved around the lock. He set it down, looking over the gathering.

"These are the components I generally use for these. The chalk is necessary for the circles to compel the spirit to come speak with me. These two vials are meant for the 'ink' of the contracts itself...and this..."

He pets the tome.

"This is more important than anything in this room."

[Morgan] "H?" That's asked as she runs a finger carefully over the seal, and then the rest gets careful listening and a nod to indicate she understands and has processed what he says.

The bit about the tome gets a grin, wide, that lights up her face. "Books usually are, yes. What's that one?"

She wants to know more, always - it helps make judgments, helps discern the proper path and decisions.

[Basil Gillingson] "Hellsmythe. Its the original name of my family."

The Hellsmythes were a traditional line of the Flambeau....if Hermetics were Harry Potter then the Hellsmythes would be akin to the Black Family or the Malfoys. It would explain a lot regarding Basil's temper...though it hardly explains why he goes by the last name Gillingson.

"Spirits are very fickle on names. If you give them an improper title...you will quickly be rebuked."

He glanced to the tome and eyed it before he went on.

"That is -my- grimoire. It holds at current over 76 true names to the Umbrood. And it still grows. You have already been taught the significance of true names? The same holds true with spirits...you have their true name...you have power over them....to some extent. You still need to negotiate, but a true name makes it much much easier. But...always treat them with a modicum of respect. You can intimidate them but always with proper tones until they make the mistake of acting like a lower being."