If Markus had a fatal fault, it would be his inability to ask for aid or accept help. It had taken him far too long to take up the Inquisitor's suggestion. At first, he had been unsure about connecting himself too closely with an organization that aided the Exchange. But he had come to realize that his view had been skewed by his working with Mac, who admittedly had less-than-noble intentions and dealings.
When Markus first approached the Sewing Circle earlier in the week, it was just out of curiosity. He was told about the organization, informed about how they were connected to and helped the Exchange, and then let go to study. If he understood correctly, they held regular events where he could meet other members and offer their resources, so long as he provided some aid in return. He was told that, for now, any more complex rituals would require him to work with a senior member. But, they seemed content to let him learn.
On his second visit, the redhead found himself in an extensive upper level of the brownstone building that housed the Exchange. The space was surprisingly roomy, with plenty of tables and a dedicated section for ritual supplies that Markus almost drooled over. However, the most crucial feature of this place was the collection of books. Although not a massive archive, it was a treasure trove for the new Arcanist, given the difficulty he had with local libraries and online forums.
So far, Markus has avoided more public meetings, preferring to study in silence. He spent much of his time reading the Exchange resources to learn their rituals and crafting methods. Markus had not yet met Rizzo, but his notes were quite valuable, even if the redhead had yet to attempt to create one of his ointments.
After a couple of hours of looking through the workings of alchemy, the redhead decided it was time to study something else. Pulling out his own notes, he would set down a few pages before going to find a book that might help him recreate the ritual he had stumbled into the night with the Wraith.
Returning with a handful of books, Markus would sit down, pulling out a fresh journal. In front of him was a crude image he had drawn of a cage, a shadow's fuzzy image within the bars. Every inch of spare space around the image was covered in scrawling notes. Markus tried to remember everything he could from that faithful night. To his side, he opened one of the books. He started to read, occasionally writing notes, oblivious to the goings around him.
When Markus first approached the Sewing Circle earlier in the week, it was just out of curiosity. He was told about the organization, informed about how they were connected to and helped the Exchange, and then let go to study. If he understood correctly, they held regular events where he could meet other members and offer their resources, so long as he provided some aid in return. He was told that, for now, any more complex rituals would require him to work with a senior member. But, they seemed content to let him learn.
On his second visit, the redhead found himself in an extensive upper level of the brownstone building that housed the Exchange. The space was surprisingly roomy, with plenty of tables and a dedicated section for ritual supplies that Markus almost drooled over. However, the most crucial feature of this place was the collection of books. Although not a massive archive, it was a treasure trove for the new Arcanist, given the difficulty he had with local libraries and online forums.
So far, Markus has avoided more public meetings, preferring to study in silence. He spent much of his time reading the Exchange resources to learn their rituals and crafting methods. Markus had not yet met Rizzo, but his notes were quite valuable, even if the redhead had yet to attempt to create one of his ointments.
After a couple of hours of looking through the workings of alchemy, the redhead decided it was time to study something else. Pulling out his own notes, he would set down a few pages before going to find a book that might help him recreate the ritual he had stumbled into the night with the Wraith.
Returning with a handful of books, Markus would sit down, pulling out a fresh journal. In front of him was a crude image he had drawn of a cage, a shadow's fuzzy image within the bars. Every inch of spare space around the image was covered in scrawling notes. Markus tried to remember everything he could from that faithful night. To his side, he opened one of the books. He started to read, occasionally writing notes, oblivious to the goings around him.