Defonius seems rather shrouded in the concealment of shadows when he lifts his warm starry skied gaze to peer through wire framed glasses. A splendid smile curls against his face, the age old wrinkles falling into place and showing him off to be a cute old man. A thick stubble of grey hair falls against his cheeks, the rosy hue giving him that "Santa Claus" look.

His face lights up when he speaks, each word pronounced carefully, as if speaking to a child. Be it that he may just be enthusiastic about magic, or just a child within his own heart. His voice falls a bit raspy as he speaks, his speech slower than usual, as is, old age having taken its toll on the Mage. His starry skied gaze widens at certain words, emphasizing like a good storyteller would as he gazes on you, the room seeming to grow a little more magical with each word.

"The Mage's art is an arduous one: there are thousands of seals, each with its own magical affinity, and a Mage must also know what form and materials best suit a given spell effect. Items of power often require rare or expensive materials, and demand the finest workmanship. For those who have the skill and the patience, the rewards are great. While some purists still scoff at its diversity, dismissing it as a Lesser Art, few can deny its potential, or the effect it has had upon the universe."

Quietly his wrinkled old hand raises, pointing towards items on the shelf and small scrolls as he whispers, 'Take it. Live it. It can be yours my child. After all...It's only magic..."