First Morning Session

[mightymorbid]

Who: Mozenrath, Severus Snape
Where: The Gym
When: About 7 am, the day after assignments.
What: Snape wants to meet for an hour every day, to train Moze's magic up without using the gauntlet. Mozenrath doesn't know this.

He'd never gone to a first meeting with a Warden with such optimism, really. But then -- a little magic went a long way, and a lot

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[emptyyourself]

Severus arrive at precisely 7 am, a scowl on his face. After the evening he'd had, he was in no particular mood to deal with anyone. However, he had made this plan himself, and if he ever wanted to escape this ship he would have to ensure his inmate graduated. The first step in his plan was to wean him off the glove; it would take time, much as it took time to teach any young wizard to use their natural abilities properly, but he's had plenty of experience.

He was under no illusions that Mozenrath would behave now that his abilities were restored. In fact, Snape was rather hoping he would get all of his revenge out of his system so they could move on and do something productive.

As he entered the gym, his gaze fell on the floating...eel, apparently. He had forgotten about Mozenrath's familiar, and now gave it a scowl of distaste. This wasn't an owl, cat, or rat. It was creepy, and it talked.

Without comment about Xerxes, however, or greeting, he plunged right ahead with, "I've made an arrangement with the Admiral to restore your full abilities during our daily sessions."

[mightymorbid]

This Warden? Just full of surprises. Mozenrath tried not to smile, but it was too late. "Really. So these are sessions, now, and not just meetings." He stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning against to size the man up. "So just what are these for? Why are you trusting me with the full range of my powers?"

[emptyyourself]

He eyed his inmate for a moment, noting the smile as well as his response. Yes, he would most certainly have to be careful in dealing with Mozenrath. Cautious and watchful, above all else.

"My intention is to train you to wield your abilities," he motioned to the glove, "without the use of that."

[mightymorbid]

"Now there's a lovely thought," Mozenrath mused, though a shared glance between him and his familiar showed he wasn't taking this wholly seriously. "And why would I wish to do a thing like that?" he asked. "Furthermore, what is it you think you can teach me?"

[emptyyourself]

"Perhaps nothing. It isn't a matter of education." He slowly drew his wand as he replied, handling it almost carelessly. Whereas Mozenrath wasn't taking this seriously, Snape's eyes never left the younger man's face. "As for whether you would wish to do as I ask: if you refuse, I will take it as a sign that you are not willing to do what it takes - whatever it takes - to possess your magic."

He paused to let that sink in before continuing, "If, indeed, that is how I perceive the circumstances, I will have a moral and ethical obligation to relieve you of such an enormous responsibility as magic. You will do this every day for one hour or you will do no magic at all."

[mightymorbid]

"All right, all right old timer. Easy." Mozenrath held up his hands as though warding him off. "You don't have to challenge my willingness to have it back; I do. I just don't believe much can be done without this --"

He indicated the glove on his right hand, then. And this was partially true. On one hand, without the gauntlet Mozenrath had never been able to properly center himself and maintain a decent level of power AND control an army of Mamluks at the same time. You either had to have a mind capable of being in two places at once or magic that could do that for you. It was a severe drain on his internal resources. On the other hand, he also had the worry of his actual hand to worry about, or what was left of it, and its tendency to stop working altogether after too long. He felt certain that if he left it longer than he had in the past, then the bones would eventually start falling off. The Gauntlet had its own magic as well as boosting his own to its peak, and part of that was the bizarre spell that it cast on the absent flesh of his hand. It was a spell he simply did not know how to replicate.

Despite all bravado and attitude, it was clear he was concerned, at least.

[emptyyourself]

"Your file says you're capable without it. With time, we'll see how capable you can be. Isn't it enticing to think that you may wield the same power without the pitfall of having your glove stolen - thus rendering you impotent?"

He paused, waiting to see if it would be enough for his inmate, then decided to continue. "You might also consider that, within the confines of this room and without your glove, without fear of punishment or recrimination, you may cast any spell you wish"

He smirked. "If you can."

[mightymorbid]

He glowered at the jibe about impotency -- not necessarily for its sexual connotations but because despite having had four Wardens already he's really the first to really point out how stupidly easy it could be for a clever person to get the better of him. Not even because he was helpless without the gauntlet but because he was so frantically determined not to lose it, whatever the cost.

But Snape made a good point. He could do what he liked in here, and it had been so very long since he had the opportunity.

And of course that challenge. A glance. "Do I have to take it off?"

[emptyyourself]

Snape watched his inmate mull it over, trying to read him without letting on that he was doing so; he had already made that particular mistake with Martha. Then again, Martha had a distinct advantage over Mozenrath in that she had read his books and knew what it felt like to be probed in that way.

When Mozenrath asked if he had to take his glove off, however, he snorted. "You have to take it off. I'm sure you'll understand when I refuse to trust you not to cheat."

He glanced at the gloved hand, then returned his gaze to Mozenrath's face. If there was some concern about his reaction to the man's hand... "I've seen worse, I assure you."

[mightymorbid]

Mozenrath rolled his eyes and removed the gauntlet. "Fine." He didn't even bother to offer the glove to him, though. Instead, he tucked it into his belt. The man could get it off of his hand but he wasn't about to part with it fully. He didn't much see the point in calling something cheating, though, if he was allowed to cast anything he wanted.

"It's been over a year," he said, with false self-consciousness at that point, hoping to indicate that he might hold back. Belying this tone, however, he snapped his fingers. There was the barely audible sound of the doors to the gymnasium locking. Not meant to be threatening, but no one but his Warden was going to see him use his magic, for now. "So I'll stick with what's simple."

He held up his left hand to summon fire, intending it to manifest in the same place the man's wand was.

[emptyyourself]

He'd be lying if he refused to admit that he didn't have a moment of jealousy at the sound of the doors locking; without his wand, he could barely manage one lock. Then he reminded himself that, as magical aids went, at least his wand wasn't doing him harm.

Except for the fact that it was getting hot and burning a bluish color. With some concentration, he was able to wave off the strange fire.

He inspected his wand and found it undamaged. Still... "Impressive."

[mightymorbid]

Not as big as he'd hoped. Mozenrath bit back his own disappointment; his face-offs with other sorcerers were few, as he was the sort that seemed completely untrusting of a level playing field. It wasn't enough, but he thought quickly -- a duel with his old Master had once meant having seconds to properly defend himself, and whether an attack was coming or not, he fully expected one.

His skeletal hand moved. A weight set close to him lifted from the ground. He swung his arm hard, the movement hurling it toward his opponent -- with considerably less momentum than he would have liked, and he made a sound of clear exertion in doing so. His arm twisted when he overplayed the gesture, and he winced in pain.

Still not enough. He was already getting tired.

[emptyyourself]

Snape watched the weight set with narrowed brows as it rose from the ground, duly impressed with his inmate's tenacity. Then again, he couldn't help but wonder if he should be concerned that Mozenrath now appeared to be trying to kill him.

It took very little effort to wave to weights away; they clattered against a wall, leaving a small dent. "Less than fifteen minutes and you're able to fling things at me. Imagine a month."

He could tell Mozenrath was tired; perhaps an hour was too much for the first day. Still, showing him leniency would only allow him to grow lazy and complacent. "Again."

[mightymorbid]

Identifying a new man with a teacher he'd ultimately murdered and turned into an undead slave was probably not the healthiest response Mozenrath could have, but it was odd how certain things just immediately came natural. Being drilled as he did his best to act quickly and effectively created ripples and echoes he hadn't felt in a long time.

He knew he might be able to take him by surprise if he got behind him and managed a full blast, but he was still uncertain just how much he had left in him. He'd never been able to translocate without his gauntlet back in his own world -- largely because it took so much power to do that, and on top of that he had his hold on the army to maintain, or to summon from wherever he had been before. Without the gauntlet, he had to actually concentrate on it, and it could have ended with him embedded in a wall, or underground, or somewhere worse.

But here, there were no Mamluks. He could try.

Mozenrath pulled his cape around himself with a flourish and vanished in a burst of blue-black flame.

He reappeared behind his Warden, flinging his arm out to toss another shot of fire toward him, but it burnt out before even reaching him.

His stance shook visibly when a dizzy spell caught him.

[emptyyourself]

Snape spun on his heel as Mozenrath vanished; not because of some instinct or sixth sense which told him the man was behind him, but because generally, when teleporting (or Apparating) during a duel, it was a good bet to catch someone unawares if you went directly behind them rather than three feet to the left.

He was just in time to see the blue-black fire burn out and Mozenrath's stance shake; not particularly promising signs. He had strong natural abilities, but tired too quickly - like a runner who had been sitting on the couch for years. He waited a moment, his arms folded across his chest, watching his inmate to see how bad off he was, then conceded. "I've seen enough. We're done."

No more than twenty minutes had gone by. Tomorrow, he thought cynically to himself, they would try for thirty minutes.

[mightymorbid]

Mozenrath reacted before he was even certain of what Snape was saying, as though rather than an end to this exercise, again, he expected attack, even despite the fact that none had come yet. He rose to his full height and retreated a step, but then the words struck home, and he realized nothing else would be coming. He didn't wish to admit that he probably could not have gone on from there; what would have followed in the old days would have been a good deal less pleasant.

Xerxes, who had been maintaining an odd perimeter around the two of them, swam to the younger magician's side, despite really not able to offer much in the way of aid.

"Master all right?"

"Away," Mozenrath uttered, waving him off.