Luella
The Wizard observed Astal as she spoke on his knowledge. A grin formed as she mused about his blood, and nodded subtly. As she continued, his features became more stoic, as he watched her cautiously. She was providing philosophy regarding these mongrel Gods. Varis observed, eyes narrowing as she spoke of begging and sacrifice to them. In his time, he had always spat on them and their shrines. 

*Both Altars*. He mauled over the idea, and immediately dismissed it. 

*The teachings they offer.*

Varis observed her, and grinned. 

"My father is of the Urshilaku. I attempt to stay in touch with my roots."

"As for the House of Troubles... Slavery and rape. Mania and dementia. Revolution through chaos. Excrement and Hypocrisy."

Varis summarized the House of Troubles in a matter of words, smiling passively. "Yes, I believe there is much to learn from these spheres of influence. However, it seems you put an emphasis on what they can provide, rather than what examples they make to shun and refuse to fall into. I may be Telvanni, but I am a reformist - abolitionist. I see the folly of the trade, and how it placates directly into the hands of one of the Corners. Upheld and spared of consequence by the Old Tribunal."

"As for our Three Good Lords, I pray not for their protection, but their guidance. In these prayers, I am reminded of their teachings. The contradictions of which hold deepest truths. Tell me, of the spheres I equated to the Corners, what are their contradictions? According to the Codes of Mephala, there is no difference between the theorist and the terrorist. The spheres of our Good Lords are the columns that hold up Civilization, and give order to chaos."
James
Astal nodded approvingly, when Varis told of his lineage. As a mainlander, she knew a limited amount of the tribes on Vvardenfell. The general respect between Ashlander tribes was strong. When there wasn't conflict, of course. The water separating the two chunks of Morrowind meant that, Astal's tribe had no ancient grudge with Varis'. Astal watched as the other Mer spoke. It had been long she had conversed over such matters. Certainly not while being in Skyrim. As he finished she sat still for a moment, Contemplating his words. 

"It is, familiarity. Familiarity is what splits our good daedra, from the bad. In our culture, it is our closeness that allows us to dive into these associations. It is what allows us to reason if they are good or not. Take Boethiah, to all but us Dunmer, she is a betrayer, a master of torture and slaughter. But to us, she is our champion lord. Her betrayal allowed us to drift from the Aldmer, and we became who we are." Astal moved a hand to her chest, finger tapping on the central talisman."

"Sheogorath, the prince of madness. He drives those who spurn, and worship him to madness. But with him I see a lesson in predictability. To outsmart an opponent, one must learn the other's behaviors. But to keep oneself from being outsmarted, it helps to make them keep guessing."

Astal stared at varis from behind her goggles. Expression hidden from view. She folder her fingers together, and leaned forward. 

"Dear Serjo, I do have to ask. Are you here for a service? If not, I would prefer we move this conversation to somewhere less bright. Where we can properly speak, face to face."
Luella
The Dunmer listened closely to Astal's words. These issues were something of great debate back on Port Telvannis. Typically, it ended with some agnostic daring to challenge Varis in combat. The conjuring of a Clannfear ended all such feeble minds. Though, here, in Skyrim, he had to regulate himself. He could not lash out, and smiled to himself, as he knew she would not either. They could have an open discussion without the threat of violence. 

Until, of course, someone said something so outrageous it demanded reprimanding. 

As she spoke, his eyes narrowed, as she referred to the other races of Tamriel. Their lack of perspective was what made their inferior. Of course, she had to know this. And, when she brought up Sheogorath, and his alternative means of success over an opponent, a slight grin formed. Before he could retort, she asked about a darker local. 

"Ah, yes, I am forgetful." He held out his hand, for her to read his palm. "We decided on a fortune, earlier, and I got lost in the discourse. Afterward, if you are interested, I would gladly go somewhere more suitable."

As for Varis' palms, he exposed his left hand, it was a mismatched network of lines, as most people's were, but his were covered in lines and zig-zags. Such lines pointed toward hypertension, anxiety, and unwanted thoughts. And yet, as Varis held his hand out, it was as still as a surgeon's. 

Though, some truth were in the palm, only in his eyes. They were darting and observant, as if danger were from all sides and within. His tattoos, scars, and exterior all served as a good defense from fools and the ignorant, but those who would appreciate his death? Especially for someone who seemed so brazen and confident in his conviction? It was a magnet for danger, and if anyone would be anxious and have high blood pressure, it would be a Telvanni. 

As for fortunes and divination from the palm, Varis held his head up, intrigued to see what Astal might find.
James
Astal nodded. As he offered out his hand. She gently took it in her own and held it closer to her face. As she gently grasped his wrist her free hand moved towards her face. She slid the bone goggles up, exposing the pale white skin beneath. Her pink eyes twitched back and forth, white lashes crinkling as her vision adjusted to the light. She spoke as she did this. 

"Many thanks, Serjo. I prefer to debate somewhere where I can look my fellow in the eye. Much more personal, makes the argument that much sweeter. Out here I am simply looking for business." She muttered out softly. Astal turned his hand over, taking a look at both the front and back of it. She ran her thumb and forefinger over his digits, checking the nails before flipping the palm upwards. Her long nails trailed over the lines, her eyes scanning them like a scholar reads a scroll. She clicks her tongue slightly.

"Firstly, you may want to consider eating more fatty fish." She taps a line with a circular shape beneath his ring finger. "Eye problems in your future, you may want to read with more light as well." She traces more of his palm, noting the breaks in the central crease of the palm. Mental issues. She glanced up towards his face. The serene but ever watchful look of it. He likely knew, or had overcome them. Nothing worth bringing up. Astal return her sight to his palm, taking a deep breath and letting her magicka well up.

Varis, a trained mage, would be able to recognize the tang of mysticism. Her's was old, like many of the wise women of the ashlands. Astal stared at his palm, iris's shaking, light from her eyes gone. A deep chuckle resounded from her and she blinked, tension releasing from her body. 

"Well now. In your future I see, an apotheosis. Great mage you are and great mage you shall be. But I see an abandonment of all you hold dear. True to your roots, you shall wander. There is a fog about your future. Flickers of all types of potentialities. Towers and spires, cold dark wastelands. An abandonment of sensibilities. Great power, but I warn you. Keep close to your morals, cling to your culture like a vine." She spoke with a sure tone. "Generally, I get a clearer picture. But with you, I think your potential and ambition make the path shudder. I get sparks of one reality, only for them to fizzle out. Replaced with the flashes of another." 

Astal gently releases his palm.
Luella
The Telvanni's eyebrows rose as her face matched her pale-white hands. *A Vampire?* No, there was not that hunger typical to such a kin. Her eyes were a pale red, not the volcanic ash-waste tone of his father. She was an Albino. *Fascinating*. He had never seen one up close, at least, not one with such an obvious condition. He had half the mind to dissect her and see what else was different on the inside, but elected not to, as he listened to her *Predictions*.

*Fatty fish? A bright light while reading?* He looked at her with mild disinterest, unamused by these readings thus far. While he did enjoy seafood, he had always preferred a vegetable and fungi based diet. Meat was delightful, but there was no need to pay exorbitant fees for the kinds he actually enjoyed. 

Then, *Magic*. His eyes focused, like a feline focusing, and he could *Feel* The pull of arcana throughout the air around them. His eyes narrowed a tad, focusing on what could be divined from her expression of power. An eclectic, old form of mysticism. He recognized it, had managed to study it before, and found it just as strange now as he had long before. 

The prediction commenced, and at first, Varis grinned. *Apotheosis*. An astute assessment. Though, as she continued, his grin became more downward, as his eyebrows pushed themselves together and watched her cautiously. *Potentialities. Abandonment. Cling to my culture?* The prediction was troubling, to say the least, because he could feel the power she was using. It was a truthful divination, or so, she was seeing something truthful. To some degree.

Thus, when she completed and pulled away, Varis slowly brought his hand back toward his bubble of privacy, eyeing her with a narrowed gaze. "Hm. A wandering mage. Not exactly the norm for Telvanni, but..." Varis nodded. "Noted." He mauled over her prediction, wondering if there was any degree of truth to what she had uttered, compared to what she might have seen. 

Whatever the case, there was a source of pride in knowing that his future was unstable. When she spoke of Sheogorath's potential for unpredictability and its advantage over an opponent, he wondered how he might cripple those that would act against him in some similar way. 

Varis nodded to himself, and flicked his hand, a coin purse appearing between his fingers. He undid the string tying it together, and reached inside, looking up at her saying, "How much?"