It was almost like acquiescence was, in itself, an event. After the crystal gave it's approval, a peal of thunder rattled through the room, throwing sound off of the walls, ceiling, and floor. The crystal supposed that it would be disorienting for an organic creature unprepared for it, but this was still more evidence that he wasn't like them.

The staff Oriandus was holding before him crumbled into dust, falling through his fingers. Even the brilliant violet orb at the top fizzled out and collapsed into grit. As the dust fell a wave of something washed over the crystal's perception, akin to the light he'd seen/sensed from the circle and bubble. This occurrence was added onto the list of strange phenomena he'd seen since beginning this existence. Topping the list was himself.

Magus Hajdu struck his hands together, knocking errant particles into the air to slowly drift downwards.

“That takes care of that, then,” he said, reverting back to the natural tone he'd had at the beginning of their (discussion?) talk. “I'll release this binding and we can get to work.” Oriandus knelt at the circle and reached into his sleeve. After a moment he pulled the hand back, revealing a long, slender length of metal wrapped in some kind of wire.

The gem considered the statement. This did not seem like the course of action that the Magus would, or frankly should, have engaged in simply on the word of a potentially ne'er-do-well rock.

“I do not understand,” he said in the flat tone of voice he was quickly becoming accustomed to, “Do you intend to free me simply on my word that I will obey? That would seem to be an unwise decision.”

Oriandus looked up at him, the slight smile from before on his face. The gemstone decided that it made him look sly (showing in an insinuating way that one has some secret knowledge that may be harmful or embarrassing).

“Did you feel anything when that staff crumbled?”

The crystal's first reaction was to nod, which was unfortunate due to his lack of the proper appendages needed to perform the action. A great deal of communication was non-verbal. It would be frustrating in the future to need to verbalize simple interactions like this.

“I did. The sensation was unfamiliar to me.” He decided that telling the Magus his ideas on a connection between it and the light from the bubble would be improper. He was here to be instructed, after all.

The gem was rewarded with a nod from Oriandus. “That was pure Resonance. The staff was a Rune Focus for Scrivener magic.” The Magus continued, oblivious to the mounting confusion of his 'student'. “A custom Focus I developed combining the abilities of three different schools. Basically, it allowed me to make the terms of a magical contract, which you accepted verbally.”

“Break your word,” his gaze turned hard, “And the backlash will shatter you.”

A visceral rush of fear ran down through the gem's consciousness. Even without the needed glands, self-preservation was a powerful instinct. Being so casually threatened with nonexistence would shake even a stone's will. Luckily, he thought, my 'face' is unreadable and my voice without inflection. I get the feeling that, once practiced, I would become accomplished at the art of telling untruths.

“I have no intention of breaking our accord (an official agreement or treaty),” the gem replied. The degree to the protection this man had places around himself, with the multiple-layered defenses and the magical contract forcing compliance, spoke volumes to the crystal. It did seem more and more like magical crystals were simply not trusted at all. If this was a cultural thing or simply due to novelty was unknown, and needed investigating. There was something else, though, that was pricking the gem's awareness. Something that needed taking care of immediately.

“Pardon me, but what is my name?” Names were important. The gem felt like it was lacking a certain sense of self for not having one. Besides, continually coming up with terms to refer to himself as like rock, crystal, and gem was beginning to make him sound pedantic.

Oriandus stopped his examination and looked up. His face went entirely blank for a moment, as presumably he was pondering the question. The gem didn't like that look after such a simple question. It implied someone who focused on the big picture by completely ignoring the details. If he really was all of the things he claimed to be, then Magus Hajdu had entirely too much power to miss the trees for the forest (idiom).

Said Magus snorted dismissively, “Of course you have a name. Can't very well go around calling you rock, can I?” With that he leveled a finger, pointing at the center of the floating gem. “Your name is,” a distressing pause, “Orja. It's an ancient name with a long lineage.”

Now he had a name. Orja. He didn't have any particular feelings about it one way or the other, but he supposed Oriandus knew what he was speaking about. It was good to have a name, even if his creator's pause made it seem like he picked the name at random.

“Acknowledged, I am Orja,” Orja didn't know why he said that. Something inside of him had pressed him to. There were so many aspects of how he worked internally that he lacked any sort of proper understanding of. At least others could blame their behavior on learned patterns and chemicals. The most he could say now is that he was created by a man who claimed a great deal of personal power.

Now that the name business was settled, Orja focused more on what his apparent master was doing. In normal vision it looked like Oriandus was simply muttering and crouching over the circle of symbols, touching them in random places with the small rod he was holding. Not satisfied, the gem began shifting through his options for vision until he came to the setting which allowed him to 'see' the light/energy.

This presented a much more complete picture. Within the areas that Oriandus had already touched with the rod the symbols had gone dark. As he watched, the Magus touched another symbol with the rod. In each place he tapped the light/energy bled out of it, dissipating into the air. It was absorbing to watch, and Orja found himself staring.

As the last symbol went dark, so did the bubble surrounding Orja disappear. Everything became clearer, more complete. Orja knew without seeing that the glow in his crystal, his body was restored. If anything, it was probably brighter than it had been when he woke up. He felt raw power enter his veins. He felt invincible, as if his imprisonment was because he was the most dangerous thing in the world, and he'd just been let out.

Looking at Oriandus, Orja felt a rush of an emotion, deeper and more powerful than any that came before. His nonphysical nerves were on their edge, every motion and breath of the Magus amplified. This new sensation threatened to overwhelm the control he had on his own mind. Orja metaphorically held on for his life as this new sensation flooded his consciousness.

It was hate. It had to be hate. He hated this Magus, Oriandus Hajdu. No, that wasn't entirely correct. He hated something about him. What was it? This emotion was irrational, far more than any of the others had been. His gemstone body began to vibrate stronger than before.

Oriandus noticed. Quietly he reached into the voluminous (when referring to clothing, loose and ample) robes and withdrew another length of metal, this one golden in color and covered in runes, slightly shorter than his forearm. He held it in front of him, defensively. Orja could see an impressive amount of light/energy crackling through it, held in check by the arcane symbols.

“Hey, there, what's up with you?” Oriandus said in an (analysis complete) apprehensive voice, “Something wrong?”

“I do not know.” Orja's tone was unchanged, “I feel a depth of hatred towards you that I do not understand.” He was started to become concerned. Now that he'd been continually experiencing the emotion, it did not seem to threaten his control as much as it had, but it was unceasing and seemingly beyond his ability to extinguish.

Against all rationality, the Magus laughed. He lowered and replaced the wand to it's hidden place in his robes, and straightened.

“Oh, that. That's just the Core Hate.” Oriandus turned away from the now free gemstone and began to walk to the door. “Naturally created Cores have, universally, a burning hatred for the intelligent races. Normally they express it by trying to possess enough materials to make themselves into a golem, become a Dungeon Core and kill idiots trying to plumb the depths for treasure, or just wait until enough beings are within it's vicinity and explode. Some say that they're a creation of Roan, God of Vengeance, but no one knows why so many would be given life just to hate.”

The bearded man looked back at Orja while he opened the door, it's metal body swinging soundlessly. “You are my creation, and I expect you to control any strong feelings while you serve me. I took some precautions in the process of your creation, so you should possess the tools to resist it's deleterious effects.”

“Remember,” he said as he stepped through the doorway. His voice echoed slightly, “If you act on that hate you will surely be destroyed.”

The reminder of his potential destruction did wonders for Orja's control, the Core firmly suppressing the emotion and shoving it underneath his present consciousness with a strength he was surprised to know he had. It was still there, of course, he couldn't get rid of it as easily as he had the other emotions, but it was now firmly subdued.

The entrapment now made sense. His creator hadn't been sure that his own creation was going to turn on him as soon as it was able. That also explained the Magus' confusion at Orja's non-hostile comments at their meeting. What it didn't explain, however, was why his creator would do so far as to create one such as him in the first place.

Orja pushed himself through the air after his Master. Outside of the bubble it was far easier and there was almost none of the draining feeling there had been. More things to add to the seeming infinite list to ask the Magus. Today was proving to be remarkably informative, and the future would undoubtedly be as well as long as he could keep himself under control.