The Nth Degree

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David Callahan was a curious person. She was always trying to learn as much as she could, mostly just to impress Twitch with her vast knowledge (because she refused to ask him questions that she could probably find out on her own – where was the fun in it?). It was because of this curiosity that she had taken such a keen interest in the Jinn. Twitch was one of the oldest still living – well, that’s what she had gathered, anyway, and he was the first Marid.

And she knew a good deal about the Marid. They were more in tune with water, and Twitch had been created in it. Were his ancestors salamanders? Magic salamanders? She never asked, because she thought it’d be quite rude, but she did wonder. Their opposites were the Ifrits. There were also a few different types of Jinn besides just those two, but she would think in depth more about those later. For now, she was trying to figure out all she could about the Ifrits.

So she was sitting on top of a pipe meant for skateboarders, but it provided a comfortable little perch for her regardless. And anyway, it was simple enough to move her legs for anyone that did happen to skate by her. There was a book in her hands entitled something dramatic and there was a fiery dramatic demonic looking thing that was meant to be an Ifrit. So far everything seemed to be terribly inaccurate, but she figured there had to be some reason why there were legends. All legends had a bit of truth in them, right?

“…Ugh.”

[ ooc| @nyx ]

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Had David ever stopped to ask, Twitch would have told her to avoid the Ifrits. Even the most well meaning and kindest of them all would still be dangerous. But it is what it is and Twitch was not there. What was there was a very young, inexperienced hot headed and curious fledgling still trying to figure everything out.

Initially, the girl with the lionesque blond hair and book didn't even cause him to arch a brow. He was going to walk right past her. And he'd very nearly succeeded had he not caught the smell that lingered on her. The smell was old, like the faint smell you detect when walking into a very old library.

He stopped in mid step and spun around to face her and noticed the book in her hands. He leaned down to observe the bizarre image on the front and pulled it from her hands. He was rather gentle about it's removal and looked down at the image and then down at himself.

“Is... this what I am meant to look like?” he looked up from the book to the girl. He held the book to his chest as he leaned in and inhaled a deep breath, trying to figure out why she smelled the way she did. She was human... as far as he could he could tell.

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“Hey! Watch it!”

David was immediately on the defensive as the book was removed and she hopped up, bristling. She wasn’t one for violence at all, but she at least looked the part. Still, despite the fact that he was taller than her, he seemed… like a kid. Her eyebrows furrowed curiously as he studied the image. Why was he so fascinated by the depiction of the ‘Ifrit’? It wasn’t right, as far as she could figure. Why would the Marids be able to change shape into beautiful people but not the Ifrits?

His words caught her off-guard, however, and she tilted her head. “What you’re meant to look like?” she asked. Was he trying to say he was an Ifrit? Or was he a lunatic? (Now that she thought about it, actually, that seemed like a running theme in her life). But even if he was a lunatic, he seemed friendly enough. David reached forward to clasp the book, trying to pry it away from the boy.

That, however, stopped as he leaned in and sniffed her. “Uh… yeah, don’t do that,” she said, flicking his nose softly, the way one might a puppy. “Can I have the book back now?”