lostcarnival | [open] december will be magic again

Entry tags:

[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

"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?"

Ah, there it is. Syrlya blinks slowly, and then his smile widens just a little almost in disbelief. "A leader of a paramilitary organization tasked to defeat the dragons threatening our world."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Although I too have left the position, and am... working with some friends to protect the world instead. In a guild." A guild of two people, currently, one of which is a teenager. His tone is more neutral when he says it, because there's so many reasons it was a bad and a good decision--but it's one he has to stand by, now, and there's no point being conflicted about it.

"What did a tear in the Veil do?" He can guess based on what he's been told, but not being from Thedas he should probably confirm it.

For a moment Lavellan's expression is disbelieving, but then she grins. Not sharp and biting as has been the case recently, but one that is almost relieved. Someone who might understand. "Dragons? I've only ever needed to fight a few, and certainly not in enough numbers to qualify as threatening my world. How does that work?"

Or did. As he's also managed to leave. Another point in his favor, Lavellan thinks. "A fairly large change." As was her's, but for the moment she keeps quiet of what she's doing currently. "Nothing good. It would have widened across Thedas, and let in untold amounts of demons. Chaos, in short."

Of the sort no one seemed to be able to handle on their own.

Syrlya nods with an absent hum. That lines up about with Solas's description of the risks of the Fade--dangerous spirits, and letting too many of them through would surely be an overwhelming force. "Your duty was very important, then."

"They are larger than cities, for one." He holds his hands out wide in emphasis. "Great primordial beings that consume magic, and destroy everything in their path to do so. However..." His hands drop, a little deflated. Not as much as before, though. For once, he has more hope in a while that something can be done.

"Their existence regulates the magic in Tyria, preventing it from reaching a level that would also proceed to destroy everything. We need a way to replace that aspect of the dragons with something more benign, and then we can rid ourselves of their threat entirely."

A lofty goal, but there's potential in it now. He'll bring back so much information for Taimi and anyone else willing to listen to their new path.

"I like to think it was," Lavellan admits, with a small shrug. There are a lot of things she'd like to think about her time as Inquisitor, but few that need be thought now, so far away from Thedas as she is. At his descriptions of the dragons of his world, however, her eyes climb upwards. High dragons were annoying, yes, but once you'd killed three one managed to get the feel of it. Barrier, spells, blade, fade cloak. Rinse, repeat.

She has a sneaking suspicion it is not as easy in his world, if he needs an entire military force to bring one down.

It's a careful balance, what he's describing, and she nods. "Have you made progress towards such a thing? I can't imagine something that can replace them perfectly would be easy to find." And it seemed silly to use his measure of progress as a mark towards her own -- if he can find some impossible goal, perhaps she can too.

"Ah, not much... but we only realized the risk in killing them as things are very recently. I am sure with our awareness and whatever information I can take back from my stay here, we will find an alternative safer for Tyria and everyone living in it."

At least, even if he doesn't have a solution yet, he's not defeated. Perhaps it's just the change of air that gives him a new perspective, but he's starting to feel less defeated about the truth lately. A little more confident than he can turn their actions around and actually protect the world like was expected of him.

"I am used to things not being easy, but that does not make them impossible."

The defiance with which he seems to address the situation makes her smile -- that she remembers, too. Now, though, now it's simply resigned. Not that she would be doing anything else, for Solas is her responsibility and she the only one with the ability to change his mind. "I hope so, for the sake of the world and you."

For she knows that sometimes it helps to be reminded that you are distinct from the role you play, what is demanded of you. Even though it feels as if there isn't any separation, after a while.

"Even if they were, would that stop us from trying?" She knows the answer for her is 'no'.

It's a good sentiment, one Syrlya doesn't quite pick up on because it's not one he often thinks of. Still, he appreciates the support in return. It does help, at least, knowing you're not really alone with something.

"I don't believe so," he shakes his head with a smile. "Or else we wouldn't be the ones doing it."

"True enough." And a small, thin smile -- but more true than some of the others she's worn recently. She gives him a short bow, however, seeing someone else she'd meant to catch up with out of the corner of her eye. "It was a pleasure meeting you, and I'm certain I'll see you around."

Excuses made, she darts off, slipping into the gathered crowd with ease.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] december will be magic again

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

pretend this icon has face tattoos, whoops

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject