Taylor
Salen stared at his plate. Not meeting Varis' gaze as he spoke. Gods he was tired, so damn tired. He listened to the Dunmer, his jaw tensing up as Varis finished speaking. He hardly glanced at the other elf as he plucked and ate the grape. Salen simply sat there in a sort of daze. He would process all the emotions at a later and more private place. Finally he looked over at Varis. Listening as the wizard offered to let him watch the enchantment. 

He spoke, words hesitantly. "I will follow, I do not enjoy the idea of you finding out where I sleep." 

Salen placed his utensil on the plate before him, his dinner was half finished, his appetite now all but gone. Once he had done that he stood up, brushed down his blouse and trousers and waited for Varis to move. If there was at least one thing, he didn't have to pay for the food. His exhaustion showed on his face, framed by dark locks of hair.
Mitchell
The Mage looked up at Salen as the man agreed, and left his meal half finished. When it was clear that Salen was not going to finish the plate, the Conjurer whisked his hand, dismissing the plate's contents completely. Likely to a dungeon, where some poor souls were begging for scraps. 

Whatever the case, Varis slid himself out of the corner booth and stood, looking up at Salen. "Hm. A fair precaution."

From there, the wizard walked out of the bubble of muffling, sound returning to their ears as the tavern's merriment resumed in their ears. 

Varis meandered through the crowds, his eyes landing on the Nord in the corner, and the man immediately noticed the Dunmer's gaze. The Nord nodded and rose from his table, following. Varis glanced back toward Salen, "Don't worry. I just don't want to come back downstairs to retrieve this oaf once our business is complete."

Up the stairs they went, the Nord far enough behind, until they made it to the locked door. 

With a wave of the mage's hand, the door's *Exceptional* Security enchantment lattice was revealed, and subsequently dispelled. Salen, being somewhat practiced in Destruction, would easily notice the systems involved with Destruction Runes. However, these were not elemental at all, but instead far more eclectic, far more complex. Likely more dangerous. 

Varis opened the door and made his way in, allowing Salen to view an arcanist's dream home. Enchantment tables, alchemical laboratories, shelves upon shelves, a lounge area in the center, a summoning circle between that lounge and the bed, and all manner of terrariums possessing fungal life.

The Wizard made his way inside and toward the enchanting table.

If Salen entered, it would not be long before the Nord had made his way up the stairs. 

Varis glanced at the man, and he stopped in his tracks. The door opened in the Nord's face, allowing some privacy, and someone to greet Salen out the door. 

"This will not take long." He reached into a cabinet *Filled* With Soul Gems, glowing and dormant, and brought it over to one of the tables. He began to collect some other ingredients, allowing Salen a moment to make himself comfortable.
Taylor
As he followed Varis Salen kept glancing back at the Nord who was trailing them. 

"Who is he? And why is he following you like a dog?" 

Salen watched as the mage worked on unlocking his wards, seeing the layers of magic shift and peel. The energies from the runes warping the air around them, like heatwaves over sand. He would admit to being impressed. As a mage himself there was a certain admiration for the Telvanni's skills that transcended the institutionalized hate of the Dominion. Perhaps in another life, under different circumstances, he would have taken up Varis' offer for tutelage. What the Telvanni had set up practically rivaled some of the displays that the most advanced Sapiarchs could conjure. There was some curiosity, he wondered where Varis would stand in comparison to the separatists from Artaeum. 

As the pair entered the room Salen gave the space a long look over. The organized chaos made the room feel comfortable. Lived in, not like the spartan barracks he had spent so many decades in. It reminded him of home, his sisters study. When he was a small child, and she was staying at their estate he would follow her around. She was a beloved sorceress, her study was strewn about with specimens and all sorts of magical aids. 

Salen watched Varis move about his space, eyebrow raising at the gem filled cabinet.
Mitchell
The Wizard would answer Salen's question once he was behind closed doors, "He's a ship master I met down by the docks earlier today. I invited him to the Winking Skeever, after giving him a wink, or two." The Sorcerer was still setting up his enchanting table as his eyes slid over to look at the Altmer. "One thing must be afforded to the races of men; they are excellent in bed. I suspect short lifespans equate to a deeper desire to enjoy every moment."

Varis chuckled a little, wondering how his words would affect the Altmer as he looked back toward his station. "All the Mer I've been with are so militantly sterile in their thrusts. Utterly disappointing."

The Telvanni's grin was downright wicked as he whisked his hand, baubles and items fluttering about the room as levitation enchantments mixed with telekinesis sent the room into a whirlwind of small items of magical importance. He selected them from the air, before sending the floating chaos back to its neatly set chaos. 

With a few more adjustments, the Enchanting Table was complete for the purposes of Salen's enchantment. Varis whisked his hand, and the fungal-obsidian-ebony contraption yawned to life as the floating receptacles resonated with arcane energies, especially when Varis inserted the soul gems he required into their respective slots. 

The Wizard turned from the enchanting *Workshop* The size of three grown men, and looked toward Salen. "Now, what would you like the medium of the charm, or curse, to be? Something ingestible? Something he has to wear around his neck? What is something he would take unto his being for as long as you need him to be charmed or cursed?"
Taylor
Of all the things Varis had spoken to Salen about. His preference for human men was the least horrifying. There was a moment of awkwardness, perhaps what Varis had desired to see. Salen shifted uncomfortably as the other Mer went into detail, brow knitted ever so slightly. A tinge of disgust at the back of his throat. But Salen knew he had to right to judge the other man. It would be in character to make a quip, to call Varis filthy for willingly laying with a human. But the fact of his own existence held his tongue, that and he frequently visited the brothels of Solitude. Which were staffed more or less entirely by Nords. 

He shook his head and refocused on the task at hand. Watching as the strange device of the table moved. It was interesting. The dunmer obsession with mushrooms, and the Telvanni obsession with twisting the fungi into all manor of strange shapes and devices. Salen thought for a moment as Varis asked him the question about the charm.

"Mavaera is obsessed with wine, orders fine vintages from the outskirts of Skywatch all the time. Keeps them on his shelves in the pantries. But he never drinks them, they sit and collect dust. What he does drink, is the stuff from Cyrodiilic vineyards. His reasoning is that 'The good stuff is for good times.' I saw him drink a bottle once, and that was when the little Nord rebellion was crushed. Twenty years ago. Occasionally one of the greener agents, fresh from Alinor will steal a bottle. Maevela never notices. But every week he goes down into the cellar, looks over his collection, runs his fingers over the corks. His little ritual, he does that until he reaches the dust free Gold Coast Red, and downs the entire bottle in his study. The best medium would be a dusty bottle of Russafeld Merlot."
Mitchell
The Wizard pondered it for a moment, as Salen spoke on what weaknesses could be exploited regarding this Mavaera. "Hm. Then," He waved his hand, summing two vials. One with a wine-colored liquid, and a transparent clear liquid. "Wine, or water? Does he appreciate a watered down substance, or a taste that will be sort of fruity and off-taste from his usual? We could wait until I can get a copy of whatever he drinks, or just hope he'll down a whole bottle of the stuff, regardless of the taste difference. Better yet, no hint of poison."
Taylor
"He doesn't drink the stuff, but preferably the one that looks like wine." Salen pointed to the vial with the dark red liquid. "He keeps them around, but doesn't drink them. I think he assumes that they are a symbol of his wealth. A reminder from home. He has been stuck in Skyrim as long as I have. Was there when I first stepped out of the teleportation portal."

Salen rested his hands behind his back, watching as the wizard worked. "Again he's Elenwen's lackey, so long as she is here, he is here. But unlike the rest of us, she gets to return to the Isle every few months. He tags along. Brings back another bottle to add to his collection. But all things considered, it's quite cheap wine by Alinor standards. I know the man's Salary, if he really cared he could get some of the stuff from Artaeum. Old vintages that cost a fortune."
Mitchell
The Wizard listened, and smiled. "My, I do enjoy your perceptiveness. Ugh, what a shame you have such little greed. We could do so much with what you know already."

A jest, evident by the Telvanni's mischievously upturned lips, before nodding and dismissing the vial of water. He turned to his table, placed the vial of wine in the center of a field of levitating fungal spheres, receptacles, and idols of enchanting power, causing the vial to become stuck in the central gravitational pull, levitating there. 

With a flick of Varis' hands, the power locked within the soul gems began to seep outward, and flow toward the vial. Though, thankfully, Varis was good enough that he could enchant the liquid through the vial, rather than making a novice mistake of enchanting the vial itself. The Wizard nodded to himself as he worked, checking over notes and documents that were strewn about him in an orbit of words and parchment. 

Throughout the process, the vial uncorked, and Varis placed some of Salen's pitch black hair into the wine, having it dissolve into it with a snap of his fingers.

The process did not take very long, as Varis continued to pour power into the enchantment, until, it became a fully fledged lattice-work of hexes, charms, and twisted illusory, alteration, and mystic effect.

When all was said and done, the receptacles and spheres began to slide back into positions, becoming still and dormant, while the vial continued to float. Varis snatched it from the air, inspected it, and nodded, holding it out for Salen. 

"This vial, pour it into his next substance. It will cloud his mind, and make him particularly favorable of you. In encounters where people will seek to disparage your name, he will speak up, and declare your efficiency, and worthiness. He will look over your half-breed status, and see you as a better Mer than any of the other ingrates beneath his thumb. He might even share a bottle with you at some point. Do *Not* Ingest whatever you've laced with this enchanted concoction. It will... Cause a particularly introspective experience. Profane narcissism, or exceptional self-doubt..." He shrugged. "Either or could happen, depends on the person."

"If you wish to utilize this charm repeatedly, *Do not*. Whoever ingests it will have the charm transfer to them. You can have multiple people charmed, but it will dilute the concentration. Thus, ensure only he drinks from the bottle with this stuff in it. Catch him on a lonely night in his study, or whatever your embassy has, and leave him to his woes. The next morning, or the next time he sees you... He will be like a puppy. Except, an old Altmer man with the same sour disposition, but he'll like you very much. Possibly, like a son."

Varis smirked, "Does that sound appealing enough to work?"
Taylor
"I doubt i'll be sharing a bottle with the man. He's like a jealous lover when it comes to his wine, doesn't even like the thought of sharing. " Salen ignored Varis' quip about his lack of greed. Salen was many things, but greedy wasn't exactly it. Not in a monetary sense, which is what he assumed the Dunmer spoke of. 

As Salen watched the Wizard enchant the wine he couldn't help but lean forward. The enchanting table fascinated him, a curious piece of craftsmanship. He wondered if Varis' had grown it himself, or perhaps it was the work of a master fungal carpenter. He nodded along as Varis spoke, but his eyes focused intently as the magical glyphs began to appear and shift. The colors, the symbols, it was unlike the enchanting tables he was used to seeing. Something more technically, or at least something that let it's workings be bare to the visible eye. The work itself was a bit lost on him, Salen knew a bare minimum amount of Enchanting. His specialization was destruction magic, something he was proud of. 

Salen was pleased as Varis' explained the charm, exactly what he needed. 

"That will work, So long as he can overlook my mixed blood. Then I can work on Calla. If the stars align, and Auri-el be willing, I will be approved to return to the Isle. Free." Salen felt that faint shimmer of hope begin to fizzle up again, maybe it will all work out. How he longed to see the crystal blue waters on the coasts. The smell of salt and flowers on the wind. The great halls of his home. The faces of his family. He felt like he could reach out and touch the threads of his future.