Emi's face was an open book, clear and innocent, free of even the slightest hint of guile. Her posture was open and receptive and she eagerly leaned towards the professor every time he spoke. Never in a million years would she have guessed at the absentminded professor persona as being anything less than his true nature.

The naive young student smiled wistfully as he listed off each of his siblings in turn. His carefully crafted smile made her feel as if she'd melt. She laughed softly, running slender fingers through her silky black locks, but her smile quickly faded when he sighed.

Emmeline bit her lower lip, torn between the urge to comfort and her understanding of proper teacher-student social norms. Her empathetic nature won out almost instantly though, and before she had a chance to give the impulse a second thought she leaned over and wrapped her slender arms around the black-clad professor, hugging him tightly, her petite body soft and warm against his lanky form.

Where a heart would have been, a sick ink-purple churn of Void merely pulsed in glee.

Playing upon her empathy was simple, even without the subtle waves of inducement that his mortal shell fairly radiated with. The idea that he could miss the Nal of his Circle, whose names he'd turned for her benefit, was worthy of titters, at the very least.

But her lush young body was very close, her milky white skin ripe for touching, young firm and large breasts jiggling in their lacy cage...

For once, Magadon allowed the haemonculi its presumption. But in order to get to the heart of matter, the Savant would have to play it serious.

As serious as the worn yellow scrolls that suddenly appeared right before her beautiful blue eyes. "Where does my brain go, really?" He beamed that quietly radiant (yet completely false) smile.

With a practically palpable reluctance, Emi relinquished her hold on the professor and took a step back. She smiled, somewhat crookedly, and clasped her hands behind her back. She swayed back and forth slightly where she stood, suddenly unable to meet Montclair's amber gaze. The delicate blush that had risen on her cheeks seemed to hint that her thoughts had strayed from the strictly altruistic soon after she had embraced the object of her rather innocent affections.

The sudden appearance of the scrolls snatched her attention away. She blinked, bewildered, briefly looking all wide-eyed and confused. It made her look an awful lot like a started doe. Odd, she wasn't sure how she'd missed them. Must have been...distracted.

"Oh, haha, there they are! I um...must not be a very good searcher." She said, her blush deepening as she was assaulted with that incredible smile.

"And I'm a very forgetful sod with his nose in a book and his arse nailed to an easy chair."

Magadon said this with the perfect inflection a London-bred Englishman, trying to put his young vibrant student at ease. "No need to blame yourself."

Her ears were filled the soft, longing vocal tones of her homeland, an easy feat with the limitless knowledge of his race. A pale hand lay the plastic-wrapped scroll onto her own palms.

His smile was brighter. Whether she was aware of it or not, a long arm sheathed in liquid black wrapped around her waist. "Now, isn't this more preferable to dreary old figures?"

Emmeline's bell-like laughter filled the little office, a bright pink blush crossing her cheeks as she giggled, rocking back onto her heels and. The movement of her chest sent her pert young breasts bouncing and jiggling once more beneath the thin white cotton top she wore.

"T-that was very good!" she said, her shoulders still bouncing with restrained giggles as she delicately accepted the scroll, holding it as if it might dissolve into dust if it wasn't handled with the utmost delicacy. Of course as far as she knew it very well might. She'd looked over plenty of reproductions of ancient scrolls, but as far as the real things went she'd never come closer that peering through the thick glass of a museum showcase.

"Much better," she said, taking a small step closer to the professor as she slipped the aged yellow scroll from it's encasement and unrolled it as slowly and carefully as her delicate fingers could manage.

"Worry not about it turning into dust," came his languid voice. "Those Akkadians not only knew how to make war but to make papyrus as well. Almost like bond paper, I swear. I even made some of my own..."

He trailed off, watching her unfurl the ancient dagger-script upon the scrolls flare up briefly, like the blink of an eye. Where that signaled an enchantment that would have weakened his hold on this Plain, if not completely banishing him, the power of those old sorcerers was dispelled thanks to the mortal eyes of the London heiress.

His golden eyes widened in anticipation as he could read the knowledge freely. But now came the tricky part...

Prof. Montclair, the night close to uncloaking his true self, gulped hard, licking his lips slowly. "C-can you understand Akkadian?'

"Heh..." Emmeline chuckled, flashing the professor a lopsided grin as he assured her she wasn't going to destroy the artifact. The pale girl unfurled the ancient yellowed scroll, the papyrus crackling softly as she did so. Her touch was still deft and delicate, but no longer as nervous and shaky as it had been.

Her deep blue eyes skimmed over line after line of the strange text. For just an instant she could have sword the text had glowed, but she almost imperceptibly shook her head. It must have been a trick of the light, a reflection off of the ink or something.

"I...I can read a bit." the young woman said, briefly looking up at the professor and blushing softly, "My tutor back home always said my pronunciation was atrocious, but I can probably manage..."

Emmeline reached into a pocket and, after fumbling with a black case for a few moments, pulled out her reading glasses and donned them. She took a deep breath and straightened her posture as if she were standing on a stage steeling herself for a recital and began to slowly, with no small amount of difficulty, read the scroll aloud.

The sight of Emmeline slipping on her reading glasses caught Prof.Montclair's breath in a way he was just beginning to understand. Unconsciously, his long fingers loosened his collar. his red tie slipping down unseen from his neck down to the crowded floor.

He slid closer to the London heiress, drinking in her youthful scent, the enthusiasm at handling such wondrously ancient texts...

The innocently lustful thoughts she'd stowed in the darker corners of her mind.

He wrapped his power around the room, its walls and openings, the blinds that covered his window and the locking the door with but a mental twitch. The shadows began to curl and boil like seafoam in the evening tides.

"Let me help with that," he breathed close into her ear, his lips barely brushing the lobe as the Nal bound in flesh tapped into her mind, feeding her the secrets and knowledge to read the scroll correctly.

As well as wrapping an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to his dark-clothed form.

In her peripheral vision Emmeline saw the red tie slip from around the professor's neck and fall to the floor. Her deep blue eyes darted briefly up from the scroll as he moved closer to her, and she saw something strange in his eyes, something like a hunger. Excitement, fear, maybe both shot through her core and in a heartbeat her eyes were back on the scroll.

She was acutely aware of his movements as she continued to read, slowly and carefully. Her heart raced as he circled around behind her, though she wasn't quite sure why. Something seemed to be changing, something in the very air, but Emi was too caught up in her translation to really take stock of the situation.

When he spoke she could feel his warm breath on her ear, she was almost sure his lips had just brushed her skin. A shiver ran down her spine. Suddenly her careful translation began to flow more quickly from her soft, full lips. The scattered, half-remembered lessons from earlier years seemed to melt away, replaced by some innate comprehension.

She took a step back as his long arm slipped around her petite form, a silent, willing obedience. Her soft, yielding body pressed back against his lanky form as she flowed through the text, reading with ease and perfect accuracy, as if she were a native speaker.

His sub-psionic howl of triumph rocked the night sky, even to that lightless World-Beyond-The-World the Savant and his ilk called home.

Even if he wasn't reading the text, drinking in the triumph and sublime beauty ancient knowledge his race derived the sweetest pleasure from, Magadon greedily partook in the knowledge that now flooded Emmeline's mind.

And now, thanks to the knowledge the Akkadian priests thought was safe from his golden eyes with their primitive and myopic safewards, Magadon had not only added to his store of lore...

But paved the way for his siblings.

And the girl who helped him? Oh, the being within the mortal coil had plans for her. Gently, as she fell against his shoulder, his pale hands prised the scroll away, tucking it into his shirt as he lay Emmeline down on the desk. He left her lying their, scrounging among the detritus of his office for a cup, his hot plate and a special mix prepared just for the moment.

In the space of three heartbeats, an exotic and aromatic scent wafted into the plae Londoner's nostrils, tickling her in a familiar way, harkening to an old tradition hardwired into her blood and those of her countryman.

For was the Englishman (or woman) born who could not resist just a spot of tea?

After the last of the strange foreign words slipped from between her lips Emmeline gasped, unsure of when she'd last paused to take a breath. It had all happened strangely fast. She'd known the words, but her mind couldn't seem to grasp how or why, nor could she quite recall what it was she had read. She felt strange, drained somehow, and before she knew what was happening her legs had gone weak and her eyelids fluttered closed as she fell back against the professor.

When she returned to wakefulness several minutes later she blinked in confusion, momentarily unsure where she was. The dim, cluttered little room that met her gaze looked nothing like her neat, organized dorm room, and the surface she lay upon was uncomfortably hard and much higher than her bed. The familiar scent of tea flooded her senses, though it didn't seem to be a brew she was familiar with, and her wandering eyes finally fell upon Professor Montclair. Everything came flooding back in a rush as the student sat up with a gasp.

"Oh my gosh..." she whimpered, blushing brightly and trying to hide her mortified expression behind her hands. "Did...did I faint?"

If Emmeline was paying attention, if her focus was just a bit sharper, she would have noticed Prof. Montclair's skin had this slick sheen as his eyes glowed brighter. Or the fact that his body seemed more... defined. As if he had been inked by some invisible artist.

He hooked a finger on his black collar and pulled at it, hoping the now-somewhat sticky air cool him. The gesture somewhat bared the professor's lean chest to the young Englishwoman.

"Ah, no. It's just you looked rather flushed. I do hope you forgive my poor manners for not offering you."

A pale hand slipped her a porcelain cup that was partly the source of the familiarly exotic scent. "Drink up, do. Ask me anything you wish, when you're up to it."

Then, as if the earlier smiles were just a warm-up, Magadon slowly bloomed his thin lips into their most charming for the night.

But Emmeline wasn't paying attention. She slid off of the desk and grinned sheepishly, blushing, but her eyes were cast down, unable or unwilling to meet the professor's. The flustered student sank back into the chair in front of Montclair's chair and racked her brain to come up with some sort of excuse for her embarrassing behavior. Her relative inexperience when it came to social situations was certainly working against her. Normal people didn't just faint, did they? She'd been excited, certainly, but she still felt rather ashamed of the whole incident. And yet her amicable teacher seemed to think nothing of it. For a brief moment her vivid imagination went off on a familiar tangent, imagining several other scenarios where she might be waking up in the handsome professor's office, each much more delectable than a fainting spell.

A familiar hand came into view, a delicate little cup held between it's long, slender fingers. Snapped out of her fantasy, Emmeline blushed and accepted the drink. There was no way he could know what she was thinking, but still she felt a little thrill as she looked up at the object of her schoolgirl crush. The grateful smile on her pretty face fell ever so slightly when her gaze fell upon the tantalizing bit of exposed chest. When he smiled at her the faint pink blush bloomed to a bright red and she blatantly stared, enraptured for a moment as scenario after scenario ran through her hormone-fueled imagination.

It only lasted for a moment before she realized that she was staring at him and her pretty little head practically snapped down so she gazed at the steaming cup of tea in her hands. Had he noticed? Was there any way he hadn't?? Emmeline did her best to compose herself, blowing gently on her drink before taking a long, slow sip. She smiled, forgetting her embarrassment for a moment. She hadn't had a decent cup of tea since she'd arrived on the island and she felt more at home at that moment than she had in months.

"Mmmmm....Um, t-the scroll." she said, suddenly remember how this had all started. "If you don't mind my asking how did you acquire them? And..." she glanced back up at him, the blush still bright on her cheeks and a shy smile making her lovely face all the more endearing, "Why share it with me? There must be countless renowned scholars who'd give their right arm for access. I'm just a student..."

A slim finger reached, tapping his nose once, before tapping Emmeline's dead center playfully. Had Prof. Montclair been more rational, he would not even be close enough to smell the light sweat that drizzled her skin as hr would be behind his desk, eying her coolly, undressing her with his mind, leaving her skin bare to his imagination.

Her soft, creamy skin... So smooth to touch...

With visible effort, the slim professor held back the urge to lick his lips before setting his smile lips into a gentle twist. "Because I believe in the fresh enthusiasm of young students, of course."

Prof. Montclair raised his own cup to his lips, sipping his tea. Though the smile was still etched on his face, the light emphasized his young pale features. "But compliments aside, I do not honestly do not trust my colleagues. It's a cutthroat world, the world of archeology. And many of us are content to keep it that way."

He set his teacup down and stretched idly, his legs almost perpendicular to the floor as his shoulders quivered with the effort before turning back to his guest, his expression bitter, self-mocking. "I stole those scrolls from others even more undeserving then myself. I am not proud of that fact, but I would hate myself even more if I stood idle."