lostcarnival | [open] december will be magic again

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[open] december will be magic again

Who: everyone!
When: the evening of D15
Where: A small meeting hall on the moon, close to the portal to the carnival
What: a whole bunch of show-offs meet up to show off their magic, people interested in magic come to learn about said magic, and other people show up to see if something inevitably gets set on fire. (aka mage club)
Warnings: none so far, will edit if needed.

The meeting hall is a large open space, with hardwood floors and a rustic decor. A few chairs and tables are scattered around, though there aren't enough for the amount of people who'll hopefully show up. Some food has been set out: mostly finger foods (tiny sandwiches, fruit, veggies & dip) though there are some savory options and plenty of home-baked cookies, courtesy of Rin. Drink wise, there's water, hot chocolate, hot tea, and a few bottles of wine because tipsy magic sounds like an awesome idea and this is what happens when the alcoholic makes the dinner menu. Aside from the food table and the few tables, there's not much of anything in the room: plenty of open space for showing off or getting out of the way of someone who wants to show off.

One of the doors of the meeting hall leads to the outside. There's a wider, 'backyard' sort of area with plenty of room for people to cast magic as large and impressive as they want. A fire pit stands outside also for warming your hands and other fire-based magic. Please don't set the building on fire.

This is all very informal. If pressed for details, Strange would have told anyone to just come whenever, stay as long as you like, and so on and so forth. The emphasis is on learning about each other's magic, displaying one's skills and talents, and helping anyone who wished to learn magic decide on a path for them to take.

Showing off is just a given.

( ooc: This is an open mingle log! Feel free to make your own top-levels & tag around! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"A valuable talent," she says, still smiling slightly. "And not one, I suppose, that anyone can just learn how to do." For she might be interested. After all, that was the point of this, wasn't it? To exchange knowledge and learn. If magic isn't bound by birth in most worlds, who's to say she couldn't learn it herself?

"Lavellan," she replies, with a small bow of her head. Just enough to show respect, and just enough to unconsciously imply that she's used to others bowing deeper to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Syrlya."

"Well met." It's a gesture familiar enough to him, an acknowledgement of respect, but the implication that one's status makes the almost offhandedness of it appropriate. He doesn't end up dwelling on it, however, because the availability of his magic is something he's genuinely never considered.

He pauses, thoughtful. "I... suppose not, only in that it requires years of dedication and training. But, technically, anyone in Tyria could choose to be a Mesmer. And I understand my abilities align very closely with the Fae, which seems to be very accessible here."

Yes, when he considers it, it is very possible anyone else here could become at least something very close to a Mesmer. Whether they'd bother is another question entirely.

"I haven't explored the idea of learning the magic of the Fae. Not yet, at any rate." She was too busy juggling the people that were here, and getting used to this place, for her to give serous thought about pursuing a magical education in things unique to it. But the idea is appealing, and it shines in her eyes.

And she has never been one to pass up the chance to learn something. "I would be interested in learning it, if you're willing."

"In learning--?" Oh. He blinks rapidly, momentarily surprised. But he orients himself quickly. "Of course, I would do what I can to help. I admit, I have not begun to actually practice fae magic, so everything I know is aligned to the magic of my home, but... I am willing to explain it."

Even if it turns out no one else can learn the exact spells, they can probably be replicated with other forms of magic.

"Explaining would be enough. I'm not sure how my own magic will work here, beyond that it clearly does -- it will take some time to make it work regardless, I think." For there's no Fade, no Veil. Her magic shouldn't work at all, if she was going to be truthful, and yet it hadn't been a problem yet.

So she nods her thanks, her delight at his agreement clear on her face as well.

Syrlya had similar concerns when he first arrived, given his magic is so tied to Tyria specifically. It really just be something about the Ringmaster's power that still allows them to access their magic even here, or perhaps it all simply has more in common with itself than it seems. He's yet to properly test it, after all.

"Your magic is... from Thedas?" He tests the word as he speaks it, still a little unfamiliar. It's just a guess, given the physical similarities between Solas and Lavellan (the ears, it's the ears), but he did have an insightful conversation about the way that magic works, and he's curious if he already knows a little about the ways hers forms after all.

At the name, Lavellan brightens. So he is familiar, which means he's run into either Solas or Cole. Now to determine which it was, for both would have talked to Syrlya about magic differently. Well, perhaps not differently, but she's used to the idea that she might be required to translate for the spirit. "So you've met Solas or Cole. Or perhaps both."

Which is sort of a confirmation, but she nods, continuing. "But I am from Thedas, yes."

Syrlya nods in return. "Both of them, yes." He blinks, realization suddenly showing on his face. "Oh, but I did not know Cole came from Thedas as well..."

And Cole said he was a spirit, so he was something to the nature that Solas described. Curious about the world, but something not twisted into something dangerous. It makes a little more sense, him describing the parts 'not like a spirit'. Perhaps being outside the Fade means he's getting too close.

"Solas and I were comparing the state of magic between Thedas and Tyria, but his expertise is different from yours, isn't it? Still, since you both are new, it seemed as though you were of the same people."

"He would not agree," she says, with a small wave of her remaining hand. No, Solas had made his belief that she was not one of his people adamantly clear. Lavellan still considered that to be "But that's neither here nor there. He's a master of magic concerning rifts and the Veil, as well as a master of the Fade itself. As a Knight Enchanter, my focus is far different."

But not so removed from his in its origins, Lavellan thinks. After all, it's based in the history of the arcane warriors from Solas's time. And while he no doubt never practiced it, it was used in a time when the Fade could be accessed by all. "Is there a similar state of magic between the two?"

Syrlya raises a brow at that, but he doesn't ask further. Perhaps that's a touchy subject.

"He did say something like that, as well as his familiarity with healing magic." Although master of the Fade sounds a little more grandiose than he himself described it. Syrlya isn't sure if that's just because of his expertise being unique, or his humility.

"Actually, it sounded as though magic exists very differently between our worlds. My understanding is that yours comes from outside Thedas, from the Fade, and is tied heavily to spirits. Tyrian magic is part of the world itself, so it is more common and accessible... and there's no risk of possession."

He adds that on almost too quickly, suddenly remembering what seemed to be the big fear revolving around magic in Thedas: the spirits, demons, basically.

She nods, finding nothing untrue in what Solas had said; she wouldn't lie for him, if he tried to pretend he was not who he was. But nor would she out him so openly -- that much she gave her word on -- this place had no need nor cared about Solas's past, just as it cared little about her own. "We share some similarities in magic use -- the barriers that he creates as part of his use of healing magic are born from the same root as my own, but used differently." Her's protected, but they were also to give her an edge in close quarters combat.

It's his conversation about magic that captures her interest completely, however. "It was once all Thedas, back before the Veil was created. The Fade -- where we get our magic -- is as much a part of it as the air or the ocean. Just kept separate," as she understood it. But she huffs a small sound of resigned laughter at the mention of no risk of possession. "Magically easily accessible for all, and no possession? The longer I'm here the more I wonder why it's such a risk back home." Something to wonder about, at least.

"You said common and accessible -- is everyone a mage where you're from?"

"I suppose so?" He looks thoughtful at that. "At least, most people use magic in some sort or another, or it is ingrained in their existence. Or both. We don't use the term 'mage' often since it isn't very descriptive."

It's truthfully been something his mind largely tunes out when other people talk about their magic. Mage, magician, it's all general and meaningless terms that doesn't actually explain what they do.

"Solas spoke of the Veil, but it's created? Is it not natural?" That makes it sound, in function, almost like the bloodstones. But the Veil holds back and aspect of reality, whereas those stones regulated an element. "How long has the Veil been around?"

"I see. If there is anything that troubles your world, I'm glad that it isn't magic. Not when it's caused so much of it in my own," she says, her voice tinged with sadness. If only she could give magic to Thedas, free and unlimited. But it would suffer for it, and she couldn't live with herself if she brought destruction down upon it.

"No." Lavellan frowns for a moment, caught. She promised Solas she wouldn't lie, but nor is she interested in letting the entire Carnival in on something that should remain between the two of them, and Cole. This place need not get dragged into the politics of Thedas. "There is a historical figure the Dalish remember as Fen'harel -- the Dread Wolf. He created the Veil to lock away the mages that ruled, revered as gods by the elves of the time." And her time, but that particular crisis of faith is one she's intent to keep to herself for as long as she can.

"As for how long ago, I'm not certain. At least two thousand years, if not more." A pause, and she expands on it. "Up until recently, it was thought to be natural. Just something that had always managed to exist, with no explanation otherwise."

Well, magic is troubling his world--but the risk is very different, and one he'd rather cope with than the dangers that even the slightest magic seems to pose for Thedas.

He doesn't get the chance to correct her, however. Solas did mention a civilization where those with magic talent seemed to lord over others cruelly, but it's interesting that the current severance of the source of their magic comes from that sort of battle of power.

Two thousands is comparatively recent, though. At least, he's fairly certain it is--that's less time than the last rise of the dragons that swept up all Tyria's pre-history, and the one before that, and that... and yet, its creation wasn't recorded well enough that enough people thought it had always been there?

"I see. And the elves are...?" Some race of people, presumably. Tyria was filled with dozens of them, and yet that's a term he's never heard. He wonders if they're someone like the Seers or Forgotten, who were deeply invested in changing the course of Tyria's fate--and thus became very entwined with other races.

She blinks at the question. Out of everything she expected-- that was not it. "One of the oldest races of Thedas. I am an elf, as is Solas. I'm Dalish--" and the word doesn't seem to fit right in her mouth, and she frowns. "I am not like him, however, as he would be all too quick to point out."

The details of that is something that he'd have to ask her directly, or else she'd direct him to Solas. He seemed on friendly enough terms with the other man -- she'd have been sure to hear of it if he wasn't, no doubt. Most people couldn't help but complain about Solas once they'd met him.

"For... cultural reasons?" The way he says it sounds obviously foreign by his tone, but he does notice how she calls herself Dalish, and Solas did not. He could kind of understand it, although he would be reluctant to consider Courtiers as valid as, presumably, Lavellan and Solas's ways of living are. Maybe the Soundless are a better comparison.

"So if that story is true, what of the mages locked away? Are they still imprisoned?" He has no reason to doubt the validity of it, which is why he's curious. Powerful beings have a way of coming back around when they're left to rot instead of dealt with immediately.

"I suppose it is a good way of putting it as any," she gives him, with a half shrug. "To him, the Dalish are a personal insult. I don't doubt he would be happy to share his feelings on the matter if you brought it up to him." Just perhaps muddling his understanding of it all further. At the question, she frowns.

That, at least, she knows the answer to. "Yes. Behind mirrors, most likely deep in the Black City that is ever-present in the Fade. Should the Veil be torn down, however, they would no doubt find their way back into Thedas, and desire some sort of vengeance upon Fen'harel and the continent as a whole." Which she will not allow to happen, of course.

He could take a guess why Solas may have a problem with the Dalish (it's probably about mages), but it sounds like an issue more on his end than Lavellan's. But he doubts he'll ever ask, as he's not likely to completely grasp the context anyway. He's not from Thedas, he doesn't know enough about elves to invest himself in a cultural disagreement so long as nobody starts anything here because of it.

But should the Veil be torn down...? Syrlya hadn't realized that was even a possibility, and he raises a brows.

"Well, then I hope nothing happens that allows them to become free." Been there, in the middle of doing that--violent, vengeful powerful beings are best off as far away from those they can hurt as possible. Or dead, dead works.

The way he says that makes her huff a small laugh -- he sounds like a man with experience in such matters, and it's something Lavellan is glad for; even if their situations are not all that similar. She doesn't know -- she should ask. In a moment, however.

"As do I," more than anything. She will sacrifice herself to keep that from happening -- one more thing given up for Thedas. "What is it that you do in your world? I think I've occupied enough of your time talking about mine." And she's as eager to learn as he is, Lavellan thinks.

Syrlya is interested, especially in the things so unlike Tyria--which is not often given its vibrancy. Being a young race doesn't come without curiosity, and there's a sort of wonder to the carnival he's almost lost.

But it still throws him off slightly when she asks in turn. "Me? Oh, I--" He pauses, genuinely unsure what to say at first. He's certainly no commander now, no military leader. But he also... does not feel fit to call himself a 'hero', either.

"I do what I can to protect it, I suppose," he answers with a small shrug. "There are many dangers in Tyria besides, malevolent beings and those who would do harm to others. I'd like to protect them."

Whether he's succeeding is another question.

Something in the way he stumbles strikes Lavellan as familiar, although she can't understand why. She'd have the same trouble if anyone asked her what she does currently, rather than what she did. But it's his answer that makes her nod, a small grin forming over her face.

"I know the feeling. Sometimes it doesn't ever feel like you're done, does it?" Protecting it, she means. There's always one thing after another, one pretending god after the next. How many has that been? Two, three if one counted Solas. She's not sure if she should, considering she never fought him and he never made any claim to godhood. Still. "Have you? Been protecting them, I mean."

"Well, I've been trying," he says it with a faint smile, something deceptively light for how little it actually answers. On a small scale he knows he's done good, but it isn't enough for him to claim it with confidence when there's still so much more to make up for. So much to fix.

"It certainly keeps one busy, but you sound familiar with that burden?"

Edited 2018-01-16 22:27 (UTC)

"Just so. I--" her lips purse, as if she's having the same trouble trying to put it words. "Back in my world I found myself in the position of being the only one to help, purely by accident. It was a full time job, and nothing ever seemed to stay fixed, at the end of it, along with no one being even remotely grateful about it."

Lavellan shrugs, long resigned to this fact. "It's a job I've recently left, officially." And how he takes that officially is up in the air -- either that she had attempted to before, and wasn't as successful. Or that she simply continued on, no longer encumbered by the politics of being Inquisitor.

Syrlya's expression turns wry as he offers her a tilted smile. "I'm sorry they were less understanding of what a responsibility it is."

It's genuine, at least, because he knows what a burden the world can be. At least, he can understand the place she's coming from. "Sometimes it feels as if the world and the people in it are incapable of staying out of trouble... or starting it. But someone still has to help. May I ask what it was?"

"It's over and done now," she says, with a wave of her remaining hand. "But-- thank you." It's the first time someone has expressed some understanding. Well, beyond Solas -- but his came more of understanding the burden of a title that takes the place of a name. It wasn't quite the same, if Lavellan was honest.

At his question, she smiles slightly. "My job? I was the leader of a paramilitary organization tasked to repair a tear in the fabric of the Veil, as well as find out who was responsible for it." It is the most forthcoming about it she's been since her arrival, Lavellan realizes. "What about you? What kept you so busy?"

[open] december will be magic again

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pretend this icon has face tattoos, whoops

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