( Thancred's explanation about the Horizon pushes all thoughts of Archon Loaf to the side, and the space it creates is immediately filled with the idea of a plane of existence within his own mind. The concept alone is thrilling enough: the process sounds similar to the creation magicks wielded by the Ancients (with some notable differences, of course), and Urianger's expression takes on that glazed, faraway look he gets when he's retreated into some far recess of his mind.

The only limitation is his imagination? What if he were to imagine books he's yet to read? Would the pages be blank? Would the Horizon fill them in with knowledge? If he were to practice his magicks in there, would the skills transfer to reality? )

Thy revelation raises many questions — and 'tis my suspicion that each answer will raise as many more. Allow me this evening, I prithee, to think upon thy words, that I might present to thee my most important queries upon the next sun.

( If it's taking a lot of effort to hold himself back, it doesn't show — but then Urianger is a seasoned scholar who has had many an explosive revalation in his time. He's learned to be measured about his enthusiasm even when it leaves him tingling all over (as the Horizonvery much does), because rushing in and overwhelming himself and his companions is what leads to mistakes.

Urianger doesn't want to make any mistakes about this, and so Thancred will probably find himself being hand-delivered a near-illegible list of his most pressing questions tomorrow evening. Look forward to that, friend. )

'Tis not mine intent to overwhelm thee during thy ablutions, after all.

( At which point he reaches for the loaf, a little soggy with steam, and takes a dainty bite. )