#she only has necromancy spells and whatever she can kind of do in the books | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ythmir-writes · 4 years

Text

Fictober 2020, Day 01

Prompt: “No, come back!” Fandom: Obey Me! feat: Solomon Audience: Teen and up; mentions of wounds and blood

I know Solomon first as a regular customer in one of my supply shops. I can still remember the first time I had met him. You cannot miss that sort of power coming into a room. It’s a kind of tickling on your skin, a sense of foreboding that something larger than you can ever fathom has arrived, and you would best hurry along.

Most do. Even if you had not yet heard of how he survived a year in Hell unscathed, there was no mistaking the tattoo on the back of his left hand: a demon seal. Etched on skin and bone and soul. Very few survive the process of making a pact with a demon, and anyone who tells you otherwise is either lying or a demon in disguise tempting you to try.

If only that kind of daredevil behavior translated properly into how Solomon presented himself. He had an affable smile and an air of politeness around him that almost made you forget about the rumors. In the times I had spoken with him, he replied only in gentle tones. He also always paid up-front, and whenever he needed bulk orders for whatever concoction a sorcerer of his calibre needed, he afforded the shop enough time to prepare them.

Surely a fellow practitioner to whom the Council had nothing but praise for, must be a good person – is what his entire demeanor said. Surely someone who looks the way he do, who is pleasant the way he is, who never misses payment, is not a man to be feared.

Most dismiss his smile as veneer; nothing more than a ploy. For what reasons, the stories are endless. There is always some poor sap or other who had seemingly witnessed the atrocities Solomon had done, who had seen the shadows yield to him, who had seen him with blood on his hands and mouth. A human simply cannot survive living with demons without some evil in him.

And he was a sorcerer. Everyone knew their magic was different for a reason. That this reason has been lost to time and has long been laid rest in numerous debates in academic circles was often ignored by those who disliked him.

It did not help that Solomon did nothing to dissuade whatever was untrue.

✧ ✧

It also did not help that often Solomon had peculiar requests, some of which were too strange and dangerous to the point that if he had any special orders, it would be best that I handled them directly. Being discrete was important in our line of work.

The strangest request being a bottle that could hold a soul, in exchange for knowledge.

To be fair, it was a simple trade. Basically, a commission. If not that, then a barter.

Solomon wanted my expertise. He was the rising star of sorcerers, a human with such uncanny ability and talent he had his own personal grimoire. And while I may not carry the same infamy as him, I was one of the few apprentices of Isabel, the Witch of the Sierra Madre. And that was fame by and in itself. For all that the world has always lived with magic, there still remains some practices most find distasteful.

Or at least he knew that Isabel, had an apprentice who was just as good but less susceptible to dark moods.

“Your words, not mine.” I had said, the moment the words left him. “Best not to speak ill of her, even if she is not in the same room.”

“Or country.” Solomon had agreed, but shrugged nonetheless, as if suffering Isabel’s wrath was all in a day’s work.

“Why not go to Isabel herself?” I had asked the obvious question.

“I am currently pressed for time,” He had admitted, looking sheepish at that. “I simply cannot afford to fulfil her many side requests before she considers if she would commit.”

“I should charge extra for convenience.”

“So you will do it?”

To set the record straight, it had taken me more than five minutes before I made a counter-offer. “Two pages from your grimoire, and you let me meet the Demon you made a pact with.”

“How long will it take?”

“Give me a week.”

“But if I give you the ingredients?”

“I don’t trust your ingredients.” I had answered honestly.

Solomon had laughed at that. “Only a true arbularyo would say that.”

“Only a true arbularyo could do it in a week’s time.” I had explained. “You want a real soul bottle, you have to make time. Anything rushed and it could break.”

Solomon had nodded, as if he knew that undesirable result only too well. Then, he had offered his hand to me. The hand with the demon seal. “It’s a deal.”

And what else could I have done but take it? We shook hands, professionals and in a way, peers. “I know it’s not my business, but in theory, having a general description of the soul you plan to keep would make it easier to hold them indefinitely.”

“Then I suppose, if you’re free, you could meet Asmodeous now and he could give you a thorough description of her.”

But of course Solomon made a pact with a Lord of Hell.

✧ ✧

I know Solomon second as a friend. You interact with someone on a consistent and regular basis, and you begin to know some things about them. Small glimpses shared in the moments when goods and payment exchange hands.

I know he preferred his mushrooms whole, no matter the kind. He knows I prefer to be paid in coins, rather than bills. I know he keeps a list of true names with him, always. He knows I have a latent talent for necromancy I am too afraid to explore. I know he likes to make quips about everything. He knows I find them insufferable. I know he is an absolutely terrible cook. He himself does not know this.

I know he has more than one demon seal on his body. He knows I keep a small collection of peculiar skulls in the back room of the shop.

I know Solomon did more than just survive in Hell. He knows I can be persuaded to look the other way for the right book.

Small glimpses but nothing harmless. Enough that favors could be exchanged when the need arises. I know that often he would go away on some grand adventure. He knows I have a spare room in my apartment he could use while he smelled of brimstone and death without judgment, for a story. He knows I hate the trinkets he keeps giving me as souvenirs. I know he hates my singing. I know that he has a stash of questionable encyclopaedias in his private safe and he knows exactly where he can keep the key safe in my library.

Rapport is important. Second only to your word of honor. There were already few of us who understood that magic is life. Magic is blood. And that as practitioners, we should never discriminate based solely on origin.

But I digress.

I am often asked this question: if I had known that associating in any way with Solomon would end with the way it did, would I still want to associate with him at all?

Obviously, yes. I would have.

Power and knowledge rarely come knocking voluntarily on your door. Most have fought for it, or bled, or sacrificed, or have done numerous ghastly things for a sliver. A few have even died for it.

Solomon had walked up to me, offered his hand, and offered a trade.

Only a fool would have turned him down.

✧ ✧

And only a fool would not help a friend in need.

I trust Solomon and his abilities. No ordinary human can simply manage to tattoo most of their body with demon seals without skill and strength. Most people forget that a demon has to like you before it would even consider making a pact – and that was already a feat in itself. You had to be strong enough to survive the seal. Stronger still, to carry demon magic as part of your own.

It was not to say I had never been tempted to try. However, Asmodeous had taken one good look at me and told me I would not survive. I took no offense and believed him. My magic was simply not made for the living.

So, I have never pressed Solomon into telling me what his business was in Hell. For his sake, and mine. Demons know when you speak their name. Solomon might fearlessly recount the stories he feels are safe to share, pronouncing ancient names others would go mad from just by hearing, but that is for him to do. I can only listen and sometimes, tell him he had made an absolutely lame joke. Whatever detail I do ask him are of the other players, the angels, the mortal transferees, the lucky (or unlucky) souls invited to glimpse the other planes.

However, when he suddenly appeared one night, wounded, terribly disoriented, and still clutching the very first soul bottle I had made for him in his hands, I knew something had gone very very wrong.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Solomon had whispered, his eyes barely focusing on me. “I didn’t meant to go back here, I’m sorry –!” Solomon’s body had begun to glow. He had been about to use a teleportation spell despite his obvious confusion.

I pulled at his arm. “Solomon! No, come back!”

At this point, it is obvious that I have much respect for Solomon as a sorcerer. I want to make it of record that the same cannot be said when it comes to his impromptu decisions like these. Even a child knew better than to teleport while confused.

“Solomon, don’t be an idiot.” I pulled him back, pushing away the remnants of his magic. “You are here because you thought you would be safe here. You are. Don’t make me have to clean the rest of my apartment of your blood.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t talk, don’t use sorcery.” I had sternly said. “I will grab bandages and you will stay.”

“Chasing me…”

“Stay, Solomon.” I pulled him towards me, pressed his forehead to mine. “Stay.”

If Solomon had made further protests, I was tempted to smack him into unconsciousness just to get him to lie still. As it happens, there had been no need for any of that. His wounds had been far deeper, his coat soaking up most of the blood.

I have seen enough in my life to be able differentiate between the kind of unexpected you could learn from and the kind you cannot escape. This is not an exaggeration of my abilities. You do not survive through and finish kulam apprenticeship without developing a sort of sense for these things.

And this, whatever Solomon had tangled himself in, was definitely the latter.

(part 2)

#fictober20 #obey me!#obey me! solomon #ythmir fanfics #i'll come up with a title.... eventually #obey me #obey me solomon

32 notes · View notes

nyadversary · 3 years

Note

asking since your harry potter post was really interesting and made me wonder - are there any magic systems you really like or think are well-constructed and consistent? what are the traits of a good magic system?

oh i definitely don’t feel qualified to make any broad statements about what makes a magic system Good, it depends so heavily on what kind of story you’re trying to tell. i do want to say more about why i think the magic system in HP is ultimately bad though, and i have at least one example of a system i like to compare it with. under cut

very very early on in the HP series — i’m talking about the first few chapters of book 1 — we get the impression that magical ability does symbolize something? like think about how the series opens. the first chapter of the first book follows vernon dursley, a man who lives an extremely mundane life, likes it that way, and is highly perturbed by anything unusual happening or by anyone who seems out of the ordinary. he’s, what, CEO of a drill company or something? some comically boring but well-paying job. petunia is a housewife who passes the time spying on the neighbors. their infant son is already being spoiled and treated more like a prized possession than a human being. and these people hate anything they think is weird, which of course includes anything to do with magic. the dursleys know for a fact magic is real and it pisses them off and they hate it.

when harry is left at their doorstep, mcgonagall protests and says the dursleys could not possibly have less in common with magical people like them. either she or hagrid says something to the effect that the dursleys are the biggest muggles around, which stuck with me because it implies that magical ability lies on a spectrum and the dursleys, who are outright opposed to anything the slightest bit unusual, are the furthest from magical anybody can be. this implies all sorts of things about what magic could represent for the series going forward — creativity, rejection of social norms, etc. — and, since these people are harry’s only living blood relatives but he winds up finding community for the first time once meeting other witches and wizards, it appears to be setting up a found family theme. which all sounds perfectly good, and people will still cite this as being a theme of the books. the main problem with that is it isn’t the intended theme going forward at all.

JKR’s weird obsession with blood lineage honestly needs to be unpacked in a whole other post and i don’t think i’m the guy to do it but... obviously as the series goes on, the importance of blood family gets underlined again and again. it turns out harry is being protected by some sort of sacred maternal blood magic (which is never explained) and this is why he has to live with the dursleys, people he hates and has nothing in common with. the fact that they’re his blood relatives trumps anything else. magical ability generally is passed down within families, and in the later books much time is spent going over various magical lineages (voldemort’s family, dumbledore’s family, sirius’ family, the malfoy family, the hogwarts founders and their descendants, etc...). any notions of magic symbolizing creativity is undermined by the lack of actual creativity in how the magic is presented going forward (like i said in the other post, it winds up serving mainly utilitarian functions in the story) and as for rejecting the status quo, the series embraces the status quo. the happy ending the characters work 7 books to achieve just has everything “returning to normal” — voldemort is killed and the remaining death eaters dealt with, the ministry gets a new PM, hogwarts gets a new headmaster, and things continue on as they were before. issues of systemic injustice are left unaddressed, the subplots about magical beings fighting for full personhood status (centaurs, merpeople, house elves, etc) are left unresolved, slytherin house is allowed to continue on as an institution and presumably many wizards are still just as bigoted towards muggle-borns as they always were, and — oh yeah — the idea that muggles are innately inferior somehow? never explained or addressed. the takeway is just that if you can’t do magic, you suck. it’s so disappointing. all the pieces are there for a way better story (hey guys i think there might be some systemic problems with your magic school and your magic government do you wanna try fixing that maybe?) but JKR was never gonna write that story because it’s one she doesn’t believe in.

to summarize how magic works in harry potter just so i can really make it clear how boring it is:

magic ability is innate and the vast majority of people lack it. with relatively few exceptions, the ability runs in families — it’s rare for someone without magical ancestry to have the ability and it’s also rare for someone with magical ancestry to not have the ability

with only a few exceptions, all wizards are able to learn all spells. some wizards are stated to be unusually powerful but how much of this is due to raw magical potential and how much comes down to other factors like education, general intelligence and ability/willingness to learn, desire to cause harm in the case of the unforgivables, etc is unclear. some magical abilities, like being able to speak parseltongue or being a metamorphmagus (or whatever the fuck shapeshifters are called in this series) or being a seer, are innate and can’t be learned by most wizards. like magic itself, whether or not you have any extra ability seems to be genetic (these are all traits we know run in families)

in order to perform magic, devices like wands, cauldrons, etc are used as instruments or vessels to direct the user’s innate powers. there is no summoning, channeling, or ritual use involved and spells typically only go wrong if the wizard in question is inexperienced or something is wrong with their wand. with very few exceptions (the main one i can think of is divination, which is handled very ambiguously and most of what trelawney teaches is implied to be complete crap), magic works in very predictable and straightforward ways

so it all boils down to “you’re either a wizard or you aren’t, and you almost certainly aren’t unless you come from a magic family, but if you are — good news! you have basically the same abilities as any other wizard. don’t worry there’s nothing even vaguely pagan involved.”

which, like. how utterly dull. there are so many other ways one can approach these issues and nearly all of them that i can think of / have seen done are more interesting than this:

you could have a magic system where magical ability is much more specialized. instead of all magic users being all capable of more or less the same stuff, let’s say person A, B, and C are all magic users but each has a unique magical ability (say A can fly, B can talk to animals, C can become invisible) and, while they might be able to develop their individual talents and become stronger, they can’t learn each other’s skills. charlie bone, which is a crap series overall but which i do think has a more interesting magic system, falls into this category, as does a lot of superhero stuff although it’s generally not called “magic” in those stories.

another, similar, approach would be to have more specialized branches of magic that characters train under — say pyromancy, necromancy, etc. — and so, while it might be possible for a water mage to learn a fire spell or two, characters have much more individualized skillsets. RPG magic tends to be this, obviously. harry potter kind of vaguely gestures in the direction of this trope in that the professors obviously specialize in their particular subjects, but it’s not as if snape doesn’t know charms or whatever — it doesn’t amount to much of anything in practice as all the adult characters are capable of performing a diverse range of spells.

how does one wind up with the ability to do magic in the first place? is it innate, and, if so, is it random or does it run in families? is it associated with any other traits? are there drawbacks to being a magic user? can non-magical people acquire the ability to do magic through some other means, and, if so, does this represent an irreversible change? are magic users really “human” or are they something more? are non-magic users lesser? is there any loss of humanity associated with magical ability? do magic users channel their own innate power or are they channeling something else — if so, is it a godlike entity, demonic, or does it defy moral classification? is there “good” magic and “bad” magic, and, if so, is the delineation clear? if these are different branches of magic, are they wholly distinct in how they work or is there overlap? etc, etc, etc.

ultimately i don’t think anyone should be worried about finding the most unique combination of these tropes, because they’ve literally all been done 10 billion times — if i started off listing popular examples of how these tropes are handled in other media pandemic will have ended before i’m done. what’s important is how writers choose to handle these questions when telling their story. like, what does magic mean to the characters? what does their use of magic say about them? what does magic symbolize? etc... these are opportunities for the story to have Themes and Meaning and impart something to its audience! tbh i think it really says something that the magic in harry potter is so ultimately unimportant to the story that people didn’t bother asking the usual questions about what magic itself / the magic system might symbolize... if you look at what rowling might actually be trying to say with any of that, well, it’s not good.

i guess to end off with an example i like. in the bartimaeus trilogy, which is an extremely good YA series and i highly recommend, magic ability isn’t innate at all. magic in this universe is all done via summoning “demons” (energy beings from another plane of existence basically) and binding them to one’s will, which as you might expect is very dangerous if you fuck it up and summoning is on such extreme levels of academic bullshit that you basically have to study your entire life to do it safely (learning dead languages, being able to draw elaborate pentacles with perfect accuracy, etc etc). in practice, this means magic is something only the ruling class does / can afford to do. anyone in any significant position of power is a wizard, while everyone else — the “commoners” — is a second-class citizen under the thumb of what are essentially superpowered politicians. while the fact that magic exists isn’t a secret, the majority of commoners have no idea how it actually works, that it’s really just summoning and anyone can learn it. they’re being encouraged to think of wizards as innately superior/gifted and to defer to them as their betters. yknow, Or Else. there’s much more i could say about this but it’d wind up being its own post and i’d probably have to just break down the entire plot of the trilogy, but i think from what i’ve said you get a sense of the themes / commentary here.

this has run long but point being, magic systems Can be used to say something about the story and the characters and to make some sort of thematic point or provide social commentary perhaps, and i think it’s cool when they do. harry potter tries its best to avoid having the magic mean anything and when you do try and analyze what it means, you just get a story about how some people are just way better and cooler than others because of. uh. their blood. so rather than further unpacking that suitcase i say you could just throw it away and, as they say, read another book

#LONG poast under cut. sorry except i'm not #anon #inbox #many thoughts on the subject as it turns out i do apologize that it's messy #i have english major disease

9 notes · View notes

goattypegirl · 3 years

Text

Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11

Con: It’s been a while

Pro: We finished part 1!

Con: this post is hella long now.

Chapter 6

Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink.

OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT.

So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.

Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.

“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?

Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?

The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.

Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?

OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.

...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??

Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???

“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier!

OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!

Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.

So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.

OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet.

Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...

Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???

Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.

Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.

Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.

OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???

...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...

So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization?

That makes no sense.

Something to keep in mind.

Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”

OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.

...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?

okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.

I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.

There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.” and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.”

...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.

So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)

ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.

“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;

Chapter 7

Sixth House icon.

There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?

JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.

Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!

Not a lot to say here besides

fuck.

A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already.

Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.

Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON.

Chapter 8

No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;

So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.

Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid.

AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.

Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House??

I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia.

Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened.

TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.

Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.

Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that.

So, had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.

So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”

So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.

Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...

Chapter 9

Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.

Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone.

Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?

Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.

Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.

Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.

Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-

First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?

bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.

Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.

ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate.

ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.

FUCK.

(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)

Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.

Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.

And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.

Chapter 10

Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time.

I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice.

Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.

Hehehehe dick jokes.

Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...

HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...

Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.

Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.

HEEEEY

WHAT THE FUUUUCK

WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING

PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.

Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...

Chapter 11

Seventh House skull.

Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.

...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...

#harrow the ninth #harrow the ninth liveread #harrow the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb

9 notes · View notes

katiethxrne · 3 years

Photo

I: Magic! Of Potions, Alchemy & Ordeals of Being a Sellout

Katherine Thorne was never supposed to be a witch, she was probably destined to be working in a fashion boutique, working in a media conglomerate, or maybe if she felt particularly academic be a chemist. Her parents worked with media and fashion, her father was on the track to be a high-end lawyer, her mother though a paralegal had come out of the early 90′s high on the fashion industry and wanting to make her own line. No one had any idea Katie had magic when she was little, minor accidents brushed off as their imagination. Only her father had an inkling that maybe Katie was different, he had heard family stories about his grandfather, and buried somewhere in a trunk were magic books and wands. But it was only when her parents died, and Katie survived a night alive in a snowdrift, half-dead and dazed, that her magic came known.

Katie belongs to the kind of wizard known as bang ‘n’ flash magic, bright, flashing, bombastic and bright. She excels in charmwork and flashy spells that require more force than finesse. Her mind whirls with different applications for spells, for how she can twist them to suit her needs. Katie Thorne is a good witch, an excellent one.

However, Katherine Thorne isn’t good at potions, nor at alchemy. She is something of a genius.

School was hard before Hogwarts, hard to focus on, hard to care about. She wasn’t a great student of anything except detention. Hogwarts was a new start, and the first day of class, first period, she stood with a loose gold & red tie sporting a black eye in front of a cauldron and for once things made sense. Put everything together to make something new. Every knife slash had a reason, every crushed eye a magical property, every timed heating element and every stir had a purpose. Katie hadn’t ever felt like she had a purpose, and suddenly potions was there. It became rote, familiar, and she rose to top of the class in Potions before the Fall session was over.

Over the years Potions got more and more interesting, she had a Restricted Area Pass from her Professor, studied strange potions and recreated them. She had found half-detailed potions in these books and helped rebuild them under the tutelage of her professor. Katie was enrolled in the Alchemy course in her 5th year, despite it normally being a N.E.W.T. level course, with her Potions Professor showing off her new potions, her work, and that Katie and Alchemy would be a match made in heaven. McGonagall had her reservations, but allowed it. Katie submitted three separate potions patents to the Ministry for her O.W.L. and all three were accepted. Katie zoomed in on these subjects, whatever time she spent not being a total hellion was spent in front of a cauldron, painted runes and creating mock-plans for alchemy. Her study went so far as practicing necromancy, her first attempt at the end of her fifth year saw her bring a snake back to life for a few moments before it turned to ash. She spent her summer between her 5th and 6th year was spent studying every doubled restricted section book, every book she bought in Knockturn Alley. It all came to an attempt. An attempt alchemist had been trying to do for years-- bringing a human back to life.

Didn’t work.

Katie has filed away these notes every since, no-one needs to know how close she possibly was and Katie honestly doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to be caught in her mad spiral. The Ministry has them on file as well with the Unspeakables, who had chewed her out, but had also been reasonably impressed that this work was done by a 17 year old. It’s a well-accepted fact that Katie is a potions genius, an alchemist whiz with a working idea of necromancy and life magic. However it’s not her only field of study, Katie’s magic has always been instinctually, her magic comes in the form of Potions and Alchemy, it comes in this form but Katie has always been good at wandless magic. It became her focus during her 7th year, she has gotten highly proficient, able to throw up shields, cast curses and hexes, do some excellent charm-work. She really enjoys the trick of summoning fireballs and throwing them, uses wandless Accio charms, getting to see people’s shocked faces in the Dueling Halls when she throws up a shield after being disarmed. But Katie doesn’t really have an inkling of how people are spooked by how easily she can do this. Sometimes she uses it without thinking, casting wandless magic forgetting her hand isn’t in hand, it can be startling to folk who see her doing magic so easily. But her magic rises to meet her and the need for a conduit when not doing large scale complicated magic is growing less and less as she gets older.

Now as an adult, she has an impressive little resume, she has several more potions patents, has done alchemist workings for Hogwarts and aided in some level of curse-breaking with objects for her job. As an Auror Katie gets to see the effects of dark magic up close, and feels a certain amount of fear and guilt for getting so close to that kind of madness. Picking apart bodies, working with blood, seeing the outcome of nefarious experiments functions in re-enforcing that Katie could have been that. She doesn’t like the Ministry, she doesn’t like the restrictions around magic, she doesn’t particularly enjoy the regulation she has to enforce and sticks to what she knows. Running missions and stopping dark magic, stopping people who harm others, and stopping people she might’ve been.

Katie struggles with this, struggles with staring at dead bodies, working with taking them apart to see what alchemy attempted on them, stripping whole sites of dark magic to see what lurks beneath. Katie when on a mission has to switch modes, she cannot be Katie Thorne, the Little Lioness, the Hellion Brat-- she has to be Auror Thorne, Captain Thorne, Alchemist Thorne. She has to be stone, and put away her horror and the trauma before her. She worries if anyone knew this they would name her weak, cowardly. Katie has always dealt with nightmares, but it was easier when she was younger, when the potions she took weren’t needed, she wasn’t dependent on them. Now deals with the nightmares of missions gone wrong, watching partners die, watching what happens when you don’t solve the puzzle right, or skipped a piece. It feels like being in front of the cauldron again, putting things in order to make things right. But Katie’s mind never feels right, she takes potions to take the nightmares away, going high and higher in dosage, she numbs herself while at the lab, chugging potions to stop her from feeling the onslaught of emotions and get the job done. It’s gotten to the point where some potions just straight up don’t work on her any longer. She lies awake at night, thinking of everything she’s seen, and everything she’s done. Katie struggles with what she does on missions, the dark wix she’s killed, the people caught in the crossfire, and the people she couldn’t save. She thinks on it, meditates, and apologizes for her failures then she gets up, and mixes a potion, returning to what used to be so simple, untainted and natural.

#on Katie #Katie Thorne #of potions & alchemy & the ordeals of being a sellout #tw: necromancy #tw: substance reliance #tw: things that come with being an auror #tw: katie being Not Well

3 notes · View notes

notsoharsh · 4 years

Text

The Scholarly Adventures of Brain Girl and Blood Dude || Morgan & Harsh

TIMING: Mid July LOCATION: The Scribe HQ PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @notsoharsh SUMMARY: Morgan and Harsh take a little field trip to read a lot of dusty old books.

Thanks to her super-strength, Morgan was able to pull more books for Harsh’s soul problem than she ever could have on her own. She lead him down the dusty shelves with the glee of a suburbanite at the fancy grocery store, plucking everything that seemed remotely tied to the subject at hand. “This place is pretty amazing, right? I mean just look at everything you can accomplish with some collective organization and, well, deep pockets, probably,” she said, smiling. “We’re casting a wide net, but, obviously, indexes are going to be our friend, so if you can’t find any of our keywords inside, just move it into a nope pile. I went ahead and put it on a flashcard.” She turned and passed him one. “I hope you don’t mind my getting a little excited. I get it, why you might not be, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the gravity of the situation. I think I just really miss having a reason to come back here.” And something concrete, even tangible, to hope for.

So this was the Scribe HQ. Harsh hadn’t really thought about the place before, but somehow he had expected it to be harder to get into. Not like he was about to complain about that. He trailed after Morgan, eyes scanning the shelves. “It’s really… something.” He should probably be impressed, but with each title, he had to fight to keep his eyes from glazing over. There was so much. How were they ever going to find anything in here? He took the flashcard with a little nod. “It’s fine. Honestly, I was kinda surprised you were so up for this. And I get that. There’s… a lot in here. Did you come here a lot for witchy stuff?” He grabbed one of the books Morgan had selected, blowing the dust from the ancient cover before opening it and squinting at the writing. “This one looks like it’s just philosophy, ‘what does it mean to be ensouled’. I’m guessing there’s not really a section here with a bunch of how-to guides?”

Morgan continued to look, climbing onto stacks of books on the ground to reach higher ones. “Nope, just my curse. It went back over a hundred years deep so I had to trace back all these obnoxious second and third hand accounts to all the terrible things that happened to my ancestors trying to get down to the source. My mom had a lot of faults, but enforcing a well rounded magic education wasn’t one of them.” She balanced on the tips of her toes to get another book, On the Metaphysical Material of Human Essence, and jumped back down, grimacing only a little when she landed off and had to knock her ankle back into place. “Magic is complicated, Harsh,” she said. “In a good way! Say your magical heart’s desire is the number 20. You can get there by ten times two, or five times four, or fifteen plus five, or nineteen plus one. Lots of roads can get you to twenty. Also, witches are, historically, protective of their grimoires. And some spells are too sacred or too dangerous to really want to pass down, you know? Ooh, seriously, check the index of that philosophical one, though. There might be some reference to some, I don’t know, random Romanian death cult that was known to help vampires restore their souls. That would give us a lead to follow up on.” She moved on to the next shelf before popping her head around the corner again. “I’m kidding about the death cult, by the way. I don’t know if that’s a real thing. But it would be pretty cool if it was, right?”

“Shit. Y’know, as long as I’ve been dealing with this stuff, the whole ‘ancient curse’ thing is still kinda wild. I guess I need to expand my horizons a little more,” Harsh said, watching her scramble about. He should probably offer to help, but… she seemed pretty content. Even he could understand needing a project. That was a lot of numbers, but it sort of made sense. Kind of. “I’ve picked up on the protective thing. That coven weren’t the first ones I tried to go to. A bunch of them would’ve rather staked me than let me see any of their dusty old books. Yeah, got it.” He flicked through the book, finding the index number before scanning the pages again. “I’m not seeing Romanian death cults, but there’s some Latin stuff in here. Well, I think it’s Latin, but all I know is audio, video, disco, so we’re gonna need some translating if that’s actually gonna help much.” He chuckled as he set the book down and grabbed another. “Hey, trust me, death cults are very real. They throw some banging parties, but you never wanna stay too late. There was this one I ran into in Spain, and--well, that’s kind of a long story, but they would’ve been very into you. They were all about the brain eating stuff.” Trailing after her, he scanned the top rows of the shelves. “How about that one,” he said, pointing at an especially thick, black covered book. “Looks like it’s got little skulls on it, that’s gotta be good.”

“Well a hundred years and change isn’t ancient-ancient,” Morgan admitted, still pleased to have impressed a vampire as old as Harsh. “But brain eating death cults? That’s kinda hot. Scary, but I’m okay with side hustling as a cult maiden. But the not staying too late, is that because after midnight is when they start to get actually all murder-y?” She laughed goodnaturedly at his suggestion about the skulls on the book. “You know, I have started coming around to the idea of skull iconography being a good omen, but this could just as well be about fun curses or potions.” She tried to climb up for it, but her short arms weren’t quite up to the task. She gave Harsh a sheepish look. “Maybe you could, uh--? And then we can start unpacking what we’ve bothered before we start looking again? I think thirty books makes for a solid beginning.”

“The ones I ran into always treated their zombies pretty well. One of them even made this cool throne for them, it was pretty badass. But yeah, usually they start the murdering right after Cinderella turns into a pumpkin. You get extra drinks if you bring someone to add to the murder pile.” Harsh decided to leave out just how many extra drinks he had managed to earn. Morgan was strangely cool with the soulless thing, but adding a couple dozen murders to that might push things a little too far. He snorted. “You don’t want to spider monkey your way up there? Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said. It was a little out of reach, even for him, but getting a leg up on one of the lower shelves was enough to grab it. The book was weirdly heavy. Maybe that meant it was extra full of magic or something. Hopping down from the shelf, he brushed the dust from the cover. “Yeah, seems like a good place to start. Which ones look the most ritual-y?”

Morgan pouted as she reached for another, closer book. “I want a throne.Can it be made of bones? My girlfriend has a huge thing for bones. We’d look pretty together on a bone throne.” And for ceremonial purposes, maybe with the right amount of discretion and care with, well, offering selection, it might even be a halfway decent time. She smirked at the thought, wondering what kind of coronets death cults might make for their zombies. She laughed at Harsh’s joke and carried their haul to the nearest desk. The books tumbled from her stack and spread themselves over the surface. “Well, here’s the thing: a ritual with full instructions and ingredients is an endgame, a big ol’ golden goose. But, you know, this might start off with something a little more broad, a little more sketchy. We don’t want to turn our nose away from death cults or norwegian summoning stones or...whatever. Because some weird reference might lead us to the golden egg. And the actual golden egg might be buried in some other archive. And then, because we followed the breadcrumbs, we’ll find it in that other archive faster, and...sorry, I’m mixing way too many metaphors, huh? Anyways, I can start on the books on this end of the table, and you can start on the ones on that end? You read fast, yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure making it out of bones is required actually,” Harsh said, with a thoughtful nod. Honestly, it was a little surprising that White Crest didn’t have any death cults, at least as far as he knew. They didn’t tend to be very public. Attention moving to the books, he grabbed a few and pulled them close, scanning the titles. There were some promising ones in there at least. “Right, it would be boring if it was that easy anyway. This kinda thing seems like it needs a lot of bits and pieces before it goes together. The coven said something about ‘proving myself’ so if you see anything like that, just, I don’t know, highlight it or something. I read pretty quick, yeah.” He flicked through the pages of the first book, an older one laden with dust. The cover might have been green at one point. “Don’t think there’s any eggs in this one. It does have a spell for cooking them though. I think this one’s more basic rituals than the big one we’re after. It does have a little thing about summoning, but mostly just bats and rats and stuff. Any luck over there?”

Morgan was running her finger down the index of the volume in front of her, picking out anything that looked remotely undead or soul related and flipping to the corresponding pages. There were a few technical magic terms that stuck out that she wanted to look at as well before she wrote off the reference as a dead end for this volume. She reached for another and started the process all over again. “Not yet, although, you know, lots of fun stuff about necromancy. And vampire cults, although I guess you already know whatever you want to about that stuff.” She balanced the next one precariously on her lap and started flipping back and forth, one section after the other. “This one looks like it has lots of serious lore, though. We’re talking old myths, druidic shit, some stuff I...can’t actually read. Do you know this language?” She passed the book over to Harsh, finger hovering over the photograph of some runes.

“I guess necromancy is sort of near what we’re looking for,” Harsh said a little dubiously. Honestly, he didn’t know nearly enough about magic to be sure. It seemed to make sense though. They both had to do with souls and restoring them. Or something. “Vampire cults can be kind of cool, but most of them are pretty anti-soul, so I don’t know if they would be super helpful.” He reached for the book, brow furrowing as he scanned the runes. “Sort of. It looks like Sanskrit, just a little off. I wonder if it’s like some ancient dead version.” His fingers trailed over the letters as he muttered to himself, working to muddle through the meaning. “I think it’s talking about a ritual. It’s a lot of sorta spiritual stuff, but… I think some of it sounds pretty legit. Some of the words are kind of weird, but I think it��s saying there are three, uh, three pieces you need to retrieve a soul. And then there’s some words I don’t know, this one just means really, really old. What about the other bits, the druidic stuff?” he asked, passing the book back as he moved closer to read over Morgan’s shoulder.

“You never know. Maybe understanding more about how you get rid of them could help us understand how to get one to come back.” Morgan said. Harsh couldn’t afford to turn down any possibility, and neither could she, if she wanted to be good for more than just cheerleading. But as Harsh looked over the text and translated, Morgan started to wonder if the search would be so hard after all. “That...that might just be what we’re looking for! Look, this sigil here, means spirit, but it’s sort of a vague all encompassing sort of an idea, it could me soul, intuition, intention, but when you look at these wrapped around it, you get a soul’s last regret. And when you look at its placement in the circle, it's on a material vector, an ingredient. But it’s also in the center, where you do the conjuring for what you want to accomplish. And in that place it’s also joined by this little squiggly? It signifies a joining, of two planes or two pieces, you see it sometimes in certain kinds of alchemy circles and binding magic.” Her face cracked wide into a smile. Harsh, it’s a spell to bind a soul to a body! It’s real!” Morgan shot up from her chair, almost toppling the book to the floor. “Harsh, your cure is real! I mean, I’m going to need to do more work to figure out the other ingredients, and we need to follow up on that Sanskrit, because that might be important, and who even knows how we’re going to even get some of these things once we know what they are, but still!” She jumped on her toes to give him as strong a hug as her arms could manage. “It’s possible. And that’s what matters most right now, right?”

“That’s a good point, actually. I sort of always thought of them as being two really different things, but… I’m not really an expert on any of this. I should’ve done way more research ages ago.” Harsh had thought as much before, several times… and then done basically nothing. He’d had two hundred years to learn this and he had thrown all that time away. Oh well, he was doing it now. That had to count for something. He nodded vaguely as Morgan went on, doing his best to follow along. It was a little beyond him, but the pieces he could parse were encouraging enough to make a grin slowly spread across his face. “Holy shit--Morgan, you’re amazing!” Meeting her halfway, he locked his arms around her with enough force to lift her off the ground, spinning the both of them in a circle. “You figure out what we need and I’ll get it,” he said as he set her down, still grinning widely. “Whatever we need, just leave it to me.”

#wickedschatzy #writing #chatzy #morbeckmoreproblems #c: morgan

6 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 5 years

Photo

1110: Wizards of the Lost Kingdom

I only saw this episode once, while I was on my two-day binge back when season eleven first debuted – and by then I was kind of running out of binge-watching oomph, because I don’t think I paid much attention to it. If I had, I wouldn’t have been so blindsided by shit like the mermaid and her rainbow bridge or the flying lion-centaur whatchamafuckit. Wizards of the Lost Kingdom is depressingly cheap and desperately amateurish, but it's also unbelievably fucking weird.

There’s a great evil abroad in the land or something. The Castle(TM) is Attacked and the resident Bearded Wizard(TM) gives his son the Callow Youth(TM) a Magical Ring(TM) to keep safe – but of course the stupid kid drops it on the way out. After gathering a few allies, slaying a few monsters, and dabbling in casual necromancy, the boy sneaks back into the castle to retrieve the ring and do wizardly battle with the bad guy. The day is saved, the princess is rescued, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. The music attempts to convince us that this is epic and exciting, rather than corny and embarrassing.

I have rarely felt as bad for a group of actors as I did watching Wizards of the Lost Kingdom. I kept wanting to hide behind the couch so I wouldn’t have to look at the expressions on their faces as they humiliate themselves by being in this movie. Even Crabby the Crab Hat doesn’t want to be here. The whole thing looks like a third grade class put on a play starring everybody’s parents. The only person who gets out with any shred of dignity is whatever poor bastard was hiding under the Gulfax suit… oh, no, wait, no he didn’t, because according to IMDB the same actor also played Dad the Wizard.

Let’s look at our characters. There’s our hero Simon, who is about thirteen and seems to be familiar with the concept of a quest but would probably much rather be reading a book somewhere. His buddy is Gulfax, a dude who paid way too much for his alpaca fursuit. Kor the Conquerer is supposed to be a troubled alcoholic mercenary, but he really does look like Gordon Ramsay except not as badass. The wicked queen dresses like she’s trying to look sexy for the Swamp Thing. Princess Aura acts like your nine-year-old sister parading around in one of those Disney Princess gowns. The bad guy is less impressive than his own fashion accessories and can disintegrate people except when it would be inconvenient for the plot. Simon can disintegrate people, too, but saves it for non-humans despite the fact that they’re shown to be sentient.

Then there’s what all these people actually do. Despite a much more kid-friendly tone, Wizards of the Lost Kingdom is a lot like Ator: the Fighting Eagle. Both movies present us with characters who are supposedly on a heroic quest, but all we see is them wandering around the woods while random things happen. When I tried to describe this film to a co-worker, I realized I could talk about the various incidents in whatever order I liked, because none of them really contribute to the plot or even connect to each other.

Take, for example, the bit where Kor is captured by the cyclops who wants him to marry his sister (the cyclops’ sister, that is. Wizards of the Lost Kingdom isn’t that much like Ator). It comes and it goes, and that’s it. Kor had earlier said he didn’t know who this mysterious bucket-helmeted figure was, and Simon pouts a bit because that was a lie. It really, really doesn’t feel like the major betrayal the script wants us to think it was. It comes across as the cyclops’ sister being an embarrassing ex-girlfriend Kor just didn’t want to talk about, and he and Simon argue for thirty seconds and then hug and make up, completely negating whatever small emotional impact the whole thing might have had.

Or how about the part where Simon straight-up raises the dead? In most fantasy settings that would be considered a turn down a dark path, with far-reaching consequences for both the plot and the character development. In Wizards of the Lost Kingdom the corpses get up and basically tell Simon to get fucked because they want to rest, and then crawl back into their graves. This is a world where black magic exists and can claim your soul, but apparently necromancy isn’t in that category. All that happens is Kor tells Simon to respect the dead more.

What about the bit where Simon realizes the bad guy and his Crab Hat are spying on them through a magical birdbath? The kid casts a spell that makes the water explode in the evil dude’s face so he can’t see them anymore, but this has no plot consequences because a scene or two later the bad guy has simply re-filled the birdbath and is watching them again. Why did we even need to see that? Why did we need the bit with the little gnome dude who enables Kor’s alcoholism? The drinking is never a plot point because this is a kids’ movie (unless marrying the cyclops’ sister was something Kor promised to do while drunk), and the gnome promises to re-join them for the climax but when he does he just watches.

How about the part where Kor tries to save a drowning topless blonde woman in the weirdly orange river (this is the only place where I can definitely identify a shot MST3K cut, since we got one very brief look at her tits)? She vanishes only to reappear on a rock with one of those mermaid tail blankets over her legs, telling them she was testing their manhood to see if they were worthy of her help! They were, so she creates a rainbow for them and tells them to follow their hearts across the river!

Uh. Okay. So I can see how Kor was worthy, since he jumped in and all, but Simon stood on the shore yelling at him to stop because it’s too dangerous. Shouldn’t his unmanly ass get left behind?

Unquestionably, however, the weirdest thing in the movie is the fucked-up trippy vision Simon has while bug-woman plies him with drink and flower petals. This scene fascinates me. So there’s a bunch of Satanists sacrificing women on a spray-foam altar, while a voice tries to tempt Simon to the dark side. In response, he summons up the ‘forces of good’ to deal with the situation, and they appear in the form of this stop-motion… chimera… thing. Imagine a lion centaur, only both the horse part and the human part are lions, so it’s like a six-legged, two-torsoed leonine centipede abomination, but instead of arms on the upper set of shoulders it has weird veiny bat wings. It hovers there snarling while the Satanists complete their sacrifice, which summons a giant floating semi-transparent head in some scaly makeup. The head makes faces and breathes green fire, until the lion thing glares cartoon lightning at it and it explodes.

What the actual unmotivated fuck. What even was that? I want to say it’s demonstrating that Simon is pure of heart and can’t be tempted to evil but like ten minutes later he’s raising the fucking dead. What the hell is with the lion monster? Is it a metaphor for something? Is it saying that the forces of good can be just as terrifying as those of evil, like how if you read descriptions of angels they actually look like beasts from your nightmares? Was it actually supposed to be pretty and the model-makers just weren’t up to the task? What am I looking at?

Did anybody actually realize how weird this all was? One does get the impression that the writers were just scribbling down whatever bullshit came into their heads without regard for continuity or anything. Can we have a mermaid in our movie? Sure, why the hell not. Zombies? Awesome, everybody loves zombies, throw ‘em in there. A garden gnome? A goat-man playing the pan flute? A jilted cyclops with a spiral perm? Absolutely, the more, the merrier! Concepts!

And yet for all that, the single worst failure of writing in Wizards of the Lost Kingdom is the anticlimax of the ending. Through the whole movie everybody’s been looking for the Ring of Magic, which makes the wearer all-powerful. One of the wicked queen’s dwarves (played by actual little people who should all have been paid double for being in the same movie where the queen says we’re running out of dwarves) finds it, but Simon snatches it back a moment later and goes out and saves the day. Of course he does – he’s all-powerful. It’s a foregone conclusion. The only tension comes from wondering how many of those kids who were freed from prison are gonna get swords in the gut while Simon worries about making pretty special effects in his wizard’s duel.

One last bit of illogical crap. After the battle, Kor wanders off to go back to his ‘itinerant boozehound’ gig, and tells Simon to be a good king. Uh… Simon’s not gonna be king. The rightful heir is Princess Aura, who’s literally right there. Simon can marry her and be royal consort if she still likes him once they’ve both been through puberty. Is there a law in this kingdom that if you save the day you get to be in charge? That does seem to be where the last guy got his throne… and yet I have a faint suspicion that the writers just assumed Simon would rule instead of Aura because he’s got a penis and she doesn’t.

All that may have given the impression that I hate this movie but I really don’t. Wizards of the Lost Kingdom just isn’t worth the effort. Instead I just pity this movie and everybody in it. Every last one of them did a terrible job, and yet they still all deserved better. On every possible level, Wizards of the Lost Kingdom is truly less than the sum of its parts.

#mst3k #reviews #wizards of the lost kingdom #tw: incest #80s #just fuckin weird #everybody do the zombie stomp

30 notes · View notes

wootensmith · 5 years

Text

Mortalitasi

He’d seen it the night she’d found her way back to him. The cloth-bound book lying at the bottom of the slight stack of documents Abelas had pulled from her pack. He’d ignored it then, assuming it was just an idle interest, something Dorian had given her to pass the time or because she had asked a question. He’d put it back with her things and forgotten. Seeing it again, carefully placed beside the sprawling map she was creating in the Vir dirthara made him wonder. The bone-white paint of the letters almost glowed in the light of the veilfire lamp, though there was no enchantment in the thing. Rites of the Mortalitasi. Solas reached to pick it up and she half-jumped, suddenly realizing he was there at her shoulder.

“Apologies,” he said, abandoning the book. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I meant to check the anchor. I feared it might be wearing on your ward again.” She laughed, low and loose. “You really do think I’m one of Vivienne’s plants. Hamin, emma lath. I am not so fragile.” She placed her quill carefully down and extended her ink spattered hand toward him. “I shouldn’t tell you so. If it means I see you more, you can check the anchor as often as you please.” He slid onto the bench beside her, rubbing gently at the lacy edges of the ink on her fingers. “I, too, wish that we had more time together.” “Shh,” she told him, leaning toward him. “Don’t fret. What we have is more than I had expected.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a quick smile, though he wasn’t certain whether he were not still grieved at all they had missed. Would miss. “But let me steal as much as I am able to.” He pushed the fabric of her shirt gently down her shoulder and closed his palm over the tangle of light that threaded through her skin. His imagination had made the mark more intense than it actually was, but not by much. Her eyes still slipped closed in relief as he siphoned the power from it. The anchor’s light diminished to a dull glow and he released her. Pressed her shirt back into place. She opened her eyes as he loosened his fingers from hers.

“Stay,” she asked, “just another moment.” “For as many as I am able.” He ran his thumb over one of the winding lines on the vellum map. “You have found far more of the Deep Roads than I realized,” he admitted. She frowned slightly and he regretted choosing the topic. “I didn’t travel all of them. Some I have found here, in the books and memories. Any of them could be the road to the center of the mass. How will we find the right one?” “I dreamed, during the last Blight. And after, when Wisdom began to awaken me. I couldn’t tell you which road, but I know we will not mistake it for another. It should lie just beneath us. Somewhere far, far below. In the dream, the darkspawn were like a roaring, seething ocean. Perhaps the infected heart of the titan draws them. Or perhaps it spawns them. Either way— all the roads will lead us there.” “But will they lead us there in time?” she asked, rubbing at the strand of emerald light that crossed the bridge of her nose. He wondered if it pained her. “Perhaps I should go ahead. Now. So that I don’t—” “No. Not alone. All of your focus is on containing the mark. You have no power left to defend yourself.” “I don’t need magic to defend myself.” He wanted to argue with her. To point out the utter futility of one person against a horde of darkspawn. To show her all the memories of Gray Wardens who had tried the same and failed. But to tell her that was to show her how hopeless her entire plan was, Wardens and the Legion and a dragon notwithstanding. Besides, it wouldn’t have been what he truly meant. So he chose the truth instead. “I could not bear it, my love. Stay. For me, if you will listen to no other reason. I will not let it overtake you until we reach the Deep Roads. Trust in me.” It was a foolish thing to ask of her, after all that had happened. “I do. It isn’t you I doubt, but my own strength.” She pressed her fingers into her marked shoulder and he was very certain that it did pain her, even now, even when he’d just shrunk its pulse as much as he was able.

Like burning alive from the inside out, Abelas said. He tried a healing spell, knowing it would do little good, sliding it over all the visible, crackling of green in her skin that he could see. “Ar nuven’in…” “What?” she asked leaning into the soothing spell that slipped over her. “What do you wish?” “Many things. That I could carry it for you, above all else. Not to— never to undo what you’ve done. Or to take the good you’ve accomplished with it. Only to ease this. Only to free you from this hurt.” “It is not so sharp, just now. Let’s talk of something else. If we have only a little while before the world calls you away, we should use it for something better than this.” She waved vaguely at the space where her other hand had once been.

He abandoned the map for the strange tome he’d noted earlier. It could at least serve as a distraction to wipe the worry and exhaustion from her face, erase his misstep. He picked up the book, turning the pages idly. “You have an— eclectic collection of reading material.” He closed the book, held it up to show her. “Was Dorian trying to train you?” It shocked him to see her expression immediately darken further. “No,” she said, “Nothing like that. That one is— nothing of import.” The way she said it struck him as false. It was definitely something of import. But what it meant was nothing she wanted to tell him. Leave it, he warned himself, she’s earned her secrets. But he could not bear the trouble in her face. And she did not reach for the book. It wasn’t something she was actively trying to hide. “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I didn’t intend to—” “It was only to— comfort me. That’s all. That’s why Dorian gave it to me,” she blurted out. He looked down at the cover again. Necromancy? How is this meant to comfort her? “It was another plan. In case things went awry. Bull said we ought to have one.” She laughed but it was a sad, dry thing and he was startled to see she was close to weeping. “He’s good at contingencies. I don’t think what we came up with is what he wanted though.” She touched his knee. “They weren’t sure you’d help us. And I wasn’t certain how long it would take to wake them, if you agreed. We didn’t know how much time remained.”

“I don’t understand what the Mortalitasi have to do with the Blight,” he told her, wondering if he should let it lie instead. She sighed, drew back. “When I was— before I met you in the Crossroads, Dorian and I traveled to Tevinter. We met a spirit on the way. Locked on a ghost ship. She told me—” “I have the letter,” he admitted. She nodded. “Then you know what I did to her.” “Yes. You let it return to the Fade.” It tipped her over the edge into a sudden burst of tears. “Ir abelas,” she sobbed. “I tried to fix it, I searched for her, weeks and weeks, I tried to undo it—” He dropped the book onto the table and pulled her closer to him. “Don’t grieve,” he said, pressing a kiss to her brow. “It would not have given you what it offered. Not in the way you expected. Whatever it was before the ship, it was something different when you met it. Returning it to the Fade was a kindness—” “I didn’t do it to be kind,” she said into his shoulder. “I know. I know why you sent it back. But the decision saved you, however you came to it, and for that, I cannot help but be grateful.” He waited until she calmed. Thought about letting the whole thing go. It is a book. What difference could it make now, what it was meant to do? It clearly disturbed her peace. And he desperately wished for these last days to be untroubled. “What did that spirit have to do with the Mortalitasi, Vhenan?” he asked at last, hoping it wasn’t the wrong thing to ask.

She was silent another moment, smoothing his sleeve again and again with her fingertips. “Do you remember the trip back from Emprise du Lion— when Cole met us? I asked you then what the plan was if you fell. Who was meant to take your place. Do you recall?” “I do.” “I needed a plan for me. For what happens after I fall. I had to help the others. If there were any way to save them, I wanted to find it. The anchor is— a tool. It wasn’t meant for me to pick up, but I did. And was able to use it, to help. I— wasn’t certain I’d last until we got to the center of the darkspawn horde. I’m still… Especially if you had refused to aid us. But we intended to try to get there anyway. If I didn’t— don’t make it there, maybe something else could. Pick up the anchor and carry it for me. For them. All of them. The Mortalitasi help spirits find bodies that aren’t being used. Why not mine?” “This was your plan?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the horror from his voice. “Bind a spirit to your corpse—” “Not bind. Never that,” she tipped her face up to check his reaction. He struggled to slip back into calm, into polite interest that was nothing close to what he felt at the idea. “I know better,” she insisted, thinking the distress he could not mask was for the idea of a spirit alone and not for her. “Varric has a friend.” “Varric? Has a— spirit friend?” “Of a sort. It has shared a body with a mage for some time now, and before that, it took a corpse. We knew it would know how. It agreed to help, should the need arise. It— lost its way in Kirkwall. Drifted from what it once was. I thought— we thought, if it could finish a just cause, maybe it would remember itself better.” “You couldn’t have been certain it would follow through with your plan once it found itself in possession of such power. Even Cole struggled with his impulses for a time. This spirit could just as easily take your— take the anchor and use it for its own intentions.” “Would it have been any worse than doing nothing?”

He hesitated, slid his thumb over the winding path of the anchor in her skin, as if it were a road on her map. “I cannot fault the logic but— yes. It could jeopardize this spirit, pervert it from its purpose—” “It is already losing itself. Once it was a spirit of Justice but now— we talked a long time. Before Cole left, I asked him. We all agreed, this might bring it back to its original self. I was careful, Solas.” “It isn’t just the spirit— it’s the idea of you being gone. Of someone else trying to replace you. I know there is little difference between this plan and what we intend to do with the dragon but— the idea of something using what was once yours unsettles me. I admit, it is an irrational discomfort, yet I can’t pretend this plan would be in any way pleasant.” “In truth, I am unsettled by it as well. But my discomfort would not stop me from allowing it anyway. Not that I would have much say in what happens to this body after I’m dead. Dorian wanted to— they wanted my blessing. That is why he gave me the book. So that I would know what was going to happen. So I could make peace with it.” “And— have you?” The words felt too thick, jagged and catching in his throat. The muscle in her jaw pulsed under his thumb. “I was selfish, Vhenan,” she told him, her voice a toneless husk, a half-rasp of pain. “We should have done it a month ago. They were ready, Dorian and Anders. Bull too, and the Wardens were already gathering for a push into the Deep Roads. I was there. And the anchor was already pressing so hard against the ward. But I wanted— I asked for one chance to find you. To ask for your help. So that this wouldn’t be just… a last stand. So it could maybe be more. Mean more. A chance. And— to see you one more time. Varric was convinced you wouldn’t bend. He wanted to come with me. I’m not certain if he wanted to be sure I returned— or make sure that I didn’t. He was not happy about this.” “But Dorian and Iron Bull were?” cried Solas. “So early? You had time yet. They were willing to slay you?” “It would not have been slaying, Solas. My fate was sealed a long time ago. Only— opening the dam a few days early. That’s all.” He shook his head, too grieved to do more. Dorian had been right. He might have accepted her death, but to give up the time between—

“Shh,” she told him, loosening the tense grip he’d kept on her shoulder. “The plan has changed. For now. You don’t need to think of it. If you can find him, perhaps Cole will do it in Justice’s stead. If it is more comfortable for you.” “It is not.” He grasped the book. With a thought it was ash that spun away in a soft breeze that floated through the Vir dirthara. “The book was not an instruction manual, emma lath,” she reminded him. “And burning it does not solve the problem of the anchor. I am failing. I must find someone to finish this. If it is not Justice or Cole, who would you have it be?” “Only you. There can be no other. Not because of my affection— not solely because of that. The anchor will not leave your body behind, Vhenan. If— when you fall, nothing can contain it. Your will, alone, is what holds it in check. When you are gone the anchor will consume everything. For leagues. That is the goal, is it not? The Mortalitasi cannot help us. Justice cannot help us. Nor Cole. Not in this way. Ir abelas. I cannot claim to regret that.” He stroked her cheek. “And those fools would have done it early.” “It was only a month, Solas,” she said. “What is a month to you? Hardly a breath, lost among so many others.” “Not this month. Not these breaths.” His chest was too tight, his throat closing with a kind of delayed panic. Her fingers on his cheek seemed his only tether. “Shh,” she said again and kissed him. “It’s behind us now. I’m here,for as many moments as I’m able.” “Ar nuvan nedan. I understand Alexius now, Vhenan. I have the power to erase the Veil and still not enough to save you. Ar elvyrlinor. Tel’vara, fanor. Tel’vara.”

#solas #lavellan #dragon age inquisition #solas x lavellan #mortality

19 notes · View notes

askdragonagecompanions · 5 years

Note

Can you please do one when the companions meet a blind mage inquisitor?

[personal headcanon im going to be using so I hope you don’t mind: but the mage inquisitor doesn’t wear shoes, just the foot wrappings we see the dalish, solas, and fenris use because they learned how to adapt a minor spell so that when they tap their staff to the ground the can kind of identify the layout of where they are and how many people are there. Kinda like Toph from Atla]

Dorian: At first he didn’t even realize that the Inquisitor was blind. Granted they met in the heat of battle. Even then he didn’t even know until the fight was over and he went to properly introduce himself. The Inquisitor was quite adept and never hit a friend, or him thank the maker. When he realized the Inquisitor was blind it was because their eyes were quite pale and out of focus. He felt a little foolish for not having realized it sooner, he wouldn’t have held out his hand to greet them. Honestly he’s fascinated by it. They’ve managed to adapt a simple spell one learns at an early age to work similarly to a bats echolocation. They can’t see but the vibrations and feedback alerts them to structures and people as well as enemies. It’s exciting and he can’t help but ask his questions on how they learned to do it and how it works. His mind has a million questions, and he’s quite grateful that the Inquisitor doesn’t seem to mind too much. Dorian knows sometimes his constant questions can be a bit much. As their friendship grows Dorian works with the Inquisitor to try and maximize the spell. Their battles keep getting bigger and more intense and he worries for his friend, not that they’re not capable, he just wants to make the feedback process faster so that they can have more time to react. He isn’t bothered by the fact that they’re blind. At first it’s more of a fascination on how they’ve adapted and it turns into respect and a want to help improve on that method.

Solas: Like Dorian he’s quite impressed with the Inquisitor’s ability to adapt a spell to work for their advantage. He wonders how draining it must be to their mana. Solas holds his questions at first. He watches the Inquisitor in battle and stays near to them just in case. After all they are in this situation because of him and they need to survive to close the breach. It’s amazing to watch them in battle. They wait until they have the precise location of their enemy and let off a barrage of spells and then wait again. He knows its because they need to make sure that the target has not moved too far, but he’s also seen that this technique alerts them to enemies he didn’t even know were lurking. Assassins hiding themselves. They rarely are able to get the jump on the Inquisitor. It isn’t really until Skyhold that he asks the Inquisitor how they learned to adapt the spell, he notes how the way they bed the fade to their advantage is quite unique. They get into many conversations on how since the Inquisitor can’t really see they rely more on their senses, hearing, touch, sometimes smell. They had to learn how to cast a little different from others, they can feel the magic and focus on that feeling and willing it into a certain shape or when they use their one spell as they tap their staff against the ground (a motion barely noticeable unless you were watching for it) they imagine it as sending out ripples and get a sort of image in their mind. It’s hard to describe. Nonetheless Solas is quite impressed.

Vivienne: Vivienne does quite a bit of research before inviting the Inquisitor over. The “Herald of Andraste” is quite a big title and she wants to see how they live up to it. The only thing that surprises Vivienne is their style of footwear but then it clicks. If one is going to use the vibrations to map out where everything is you can’t really have thick soles blocking out the vibrations. Ah well they’ll just have to compensate on the rest of the outfit to make sure no one glances down. Clearly the Inquisitor is quite capable on their own. The way she helps the Inquisitor is on their outfits to wear around Skyhold. She learns that they like soft fabrics and materials, ones that aren’t scratchy or heavy to wear when not on the battlefield. She makes sure that not only is the Inquisitor comfortable with what they wear but that they look stunning as well. With their permission she helps them decorate Skyhold as well. Sometimes Dorian joins in and while he can be pompous he does have a great fashion sense. She also works with the Inquisitor trying to learn how they do it so that it can be used for other mages who are blind which the Inquisitor seems thrilled about. The Inquisitor is an inspiration to many, not just mages, or those fighting against Corypheus’s madness, but to the disabled people of Thedas as well. It is no secret that the Inquisitor is blind. Vivienne just makes sure they look amazing when they’re in public. She also makes sure to help coach them on how to approach the nobility and not let them get under the Inquisitor’s skin.

Varric: He’s one of the few that had the pleasure of meeting them on the battlefield. If it were a novel it was a great plot twist to learn that the mage who just jumped down and started blasting demons left and right was actually blind. He makes a mental note of that on the off chance he actually does survive and writes a book about this whole thing. He saw them in battle and know they can take care of themself pretty fucking well. What he decides to help them with is make sure they’re not trying to put on a brave face and internally freaking out. They need someone to talk to, someone to let them know its okay to freak out. This shit’s crazy. As they get closer Varric sends word to his publishers that they should start selling some print in braille. Sure Josie does a good job of getting as many spell tomes written in braille as she can, but it has got to be so boring just reading about that all the time. As soon as he gets one of his back, The Tale of the Champion no less, he slides it over to the Inquisitor. He also works on getting a deck of Wicked Grace cards made with braille.

Sera: Okay so she’s the first to admit her first reaction with the Inquisitor wasn’t the coolest or whatever but she was excited. They fought so good, and yeah they were a mage which was a little scary, but they were only going for the shitheads so that was nice. It wasn’t until the bad guys were gone that she realized the Inquisitor was blind. She couldn’t help but ask how the Inquisitor knew how to hit all those people and be so good at it. She probably should have worded the question better or something… but the Inquisitor didn’t take it badly so that was good. The Inquisitor does try to explain it and she gets the gist of it. They use a spell it sends out vibrations like when you stomp your foot real hard, and then uses those to get like a map. Its a little confusing and she doesn’t really understand the magic part of it but she’s also really excited. It’s so bad ass especially when the shits they fight realize they just got their ass handed to them by someone who’s blind (someone who’s amazingly talented and cool and blind) but still usually their enemies don’t care to learn how cool the Inquisitor is. Sera waits until they’re closer to ask just how much their magic map thingy lets them see, but then rectifies that by asking if they can still do pranks. It makes the Inquisitor laugh and Sera takes it as a good sign. Sera makes sure to describe everyone’s faces when they get pranked to the Inquisitor so they can enjoy it just as much as she does. So the Inquisitor might be a mage, but they’re the coolest mage Sera knows. Definitely less creepy than Dorian bringing undead into battle eugh. (unless the Inquisitor picks the necromancy specialization then Sera groans because “And I thought you were the cool one. You’re still cool I guess just creepy now.” )

Cole: It does not bother him that they cannot see. What he does to help comfort them is different, he focuses mainly on scents and sounds that bring them peace of happiness. The Inquisitor does much for others and sometimes forgets about themself. He notices there are days where the Inquisitor wonders if they are a burden to those around them, and on those days he brings him to his favorite spot. It’s a small glen, most call it quiet but they’re not listening. The wind makes the leaves rustle. The bees flying around fill the air with a soft hum. It smells of lavender, and on a very good day the sun shines through and warms it all up. Sometimes he can even coax a few nugs to cuddle with them. He waits until the Inquisitor’s mind is less clouded before telling them, “You are not a burden Inquisitor. You inspire, you fight, and you protect. You are a hero to the people and amazing to your friends. Do not doubt yourself. You are loved.” They have a bright soul, only made brighter by the anchor. Their magic is different than the other mages in Skyhold. It isn’t sharp or electric like Solas or Vivienne’s, and it doesn’t tear at spirits like Dorian’s. Their magic is fluid, easily shaped and easily sent out like waves only to rush back with information for the Inquisitor’s mind on where everything is.

Iron Bull: Bull never planned for his first meeting with the Inquisitor to happen in the middle of a fight, but apparently the assholes that attacked the Chargers and him didn’t get the fucking memo. What he does notice right away is that even for a mage they fight differently. They’re like a spider weaving their web. As soon as someone even starts to approach them the set off a barrage of spells and take em down, then they way again, waiting for the next person to get close to them or even one of their allies. They don’t seem to dodge the arrows flying straight towards them even if they were someone obvious to see. He has his suspicions and they only get confirmed when they properly meet. He’s up front with them, he’s Ben Hasrath and will be sending reports back to the Qun, but he and the Chargers are also good in a fight and more than willing to help. He waits until they’re closer to ask his big question, do they think someone without magic could adapt something similar to that trick of theirs. He waits until they’re closer because one he wants to make sure its okay to ask about it, and two he wants to make sure he can trust them. The reason Bull asks is because he wants to have a fall back plan if he ever ends up losin his other eye. He’s not the type to just stop fighting, and if the Inquisitor can keep fighting so can he. The Inquisitor thinks for a while but then gets really excited and tries to think of a way to adapt the spell into a physical action or item that could be used by those who do not possess magic. Bull’s more than happy to act as their guinea pig cause there’s no real magic at play and he’s the one who asked about it in the first place. They don’t get it nailed down perfectly, but they’ve started. It’s gonna take a while to learn, but Bull’s determined and stubborn as hell so he’ll get the hang of it one day. It also helps him get a better understanding of the Inquisitor and honestly he’s really impressed with them. It’s easy to just sit back and accept what people tell you, that you’ll never be able to fight being blind, and yes there’s a lot more challenges but damn. The Inquisitor didn’t give up and they’re great in battle, just not so much against weapons that aren’t connected to someone like an arrow. Bull always tries to take the archers down first so that the Inquisitor doesn’t become a pin cushion.

Blackwall: Blackwall has worked with plenty of soldier’s in his time, seen many go blind, lose limbs, so he knows better than to ask the Inquisitor about their sight. He figures they’re a mage, they’re great in battle that’s all he needs to know about the subject right now. The more he fights with them the more he notice they seem pretty vulnerable to archers, so he brings the subject up to them, being polite and apologizing if he’s crossed the line. The Inquisitor doesn’t seem to mind and explains how their “sight” for lack of a better term only works for those touching the ground. It makes more sense now. Blackwall thinks about it and suggests having a code word or sound when archers are present so that the Inquisitor can throw up a barrier spell to act as a shield so they don’t get turned into a pin cushion as often, which grants a chuckle from the Inquisitor.

Cassandra: Okay so her fist meeting with the Inquisitor was not under the best circumstances. It didn’t matter if they were blind. They were still very much a suspect and her anger may have blinded her in realizing that they were blind. It wasn’t until she brought them out of the dungeons to see the breach that she realized it. Most who saw the breach the first time had a look of horror, the Inquisitor had just looked uncomfortable before mentioning that they couldn’t see. Didn’t mean they couldn’t feel it though. They described it as if the fade itself was bleeding into their world, which was an… odd way to put it if they couldn’t see (granted looking back it made total sense with the Inquisitor being a mage). She was prepared to protect her prisoner and that they wouldn’t be able to fight, much to her surprise she was wrong. She told them to put down the staff before realizing if they could fight it would be better for them to have it. There were going to be many demons before they got back to the forward camp. She made a mental note not to underestimate the Inquisitor again. They were strong. As they grew closer she apologized for her behavior. She thought they had killed the Divine and there seemed to be no other suspect. As they get closer she actually trains with the Inquisitor especially since they are fighting against red templars. If any of them keep the ability to dispel magic the Inquisitor will need to be prepared for such things. Cassandra doesn’t go easy on them in training either. The Inquisitor is quite capable in battle. Through their practices the Inquisitor learns how to sense in a way the sudden dark spot that’s growing as someone dispels the magic and avoid it. Cassandra’s impressed to say the least.

223 notes · View notes

laurelindebear · 5 years

Text

Arcana: Muriel Book XIII

Wow, Muriel’s route is brutal. (Under cut for spoilers)

So, first things first, WE GOT A LAUGHING SPRITE FOR MURIEL! We did it y’all! High fives all round. I especially love that ‘I can’t wait to take a nap’ is 100% in character for my apprentice, who would probably nap 90% of the day if allowed.

I love that Muriel is getting more comfortable with himself, with standing up for himself, with the apprentice, and with affection and touch. All great.

Really torn on which choice to go for in the second (sparring) paid scene. I’ve been trying not to push him too far out of his comfort zone and not to initiate a lot of physical contact without his agreement, because of his PTSD. In that sense, going for the tackle works better, because he did agree to spar. Buuuuut, going for the peck on the cheek means he actually initiates a kiss, which is, you know, heart eyes all over the place.

It’s interesting to see how details of the plot differ in different routes. In this version, the ritual only involved Lucio, Nadia, Julian, Muriel, and Asra, by the sounds of it, not the courtiers or anyone else. It kind of bums me out how dark Asra apparently gets when the MC dies. Blood magic, dragging his remaining friends into dangerous pacts, giving up his heart to perform necromancy...it’s a lot.

What I still don’t understand is why Muriel retained his memories when no one else did. Asra I can kind of get, since it was him performing the spell. But why didn’t Muriel get the same amnesia as Julian and Nadia? Did they give up their memories in trade for healing ability and ...whatever Nadia got? And if he ‘traded away’ his fear, why has she shown so much fear since the first time we meet him?

It seems I may also get an answer to my wondering whether a familiar dies when their magician does or not, because oof, Morga. :/ Muriel’s forgiveness is going to have to come post-mortem, and now we’re really in it, because Lucio has all the hearts he needs. Things are going to get uglier.

Really going to have to buckle down and hash out a ficlet for more depth on the ‘you were dead’ reveal, because I don’t think my apprentice (this one, anyway), would be chill and sanguine about it. What even is she now? A monster? So many people died in the plague...why does she get a second chance when no one else does? How can she deserve it? And it took long enough, and was evidently public enough, that the whole town knew this whole time? That’s a lot to take in, even before the possibility that the apprentice still has family or friends from back home who may or may not know about anything that’s happened. How exactly do you start that conversation? ‘Hi Mom and Dad, sorry I haven’t written in 4 years, I was dead but I got better’?!

The point of the story, especially Muriel’s, may be that it’s about the present and the future, not who you were in the past, but for someone who tends to look backwards, past experiences, relationships, and the lessons learned from them are still important in shaping who we become in the future.

#the arcana game #thearcanagame #arcana #muriel route spoilers #muriel chapter xiii spoilers #muriel chapter xiii #muriel spoilers #he laughed #our sweet man laughed #and we got to snuggle #yay

9 notes · View notes

ofrosesandash · 5 years

Photo

100+!

Holy crap, I've broken a hundred followers. And this reboot of Margaery has been kind of fantastic for me, so thank you to everyone following me, and everyone who has talked to or written with me. In honor of this milestone, I am giving a nod and a shout out to some great blogs and their writers. Due to my ass being terrible with noticing these details, I'm using the pronouns "They" because I'm not positive who is a she or a he or in between.

To begin with, my first shout-out to those I feel are constantly under appreciated: MultiMuse Blogs. I mean, there can be rare and wonderful Muses in their rosters. Running one of these Bad Boys is a HUGE commitment to multiple characters you believe you'll use frequently. These peeps are the lifeblood of RP Communities.

@astormofagirl

Cori is amazing and we go way back to when I first started writing Margaery, I wanna say in 2015. We've both bounced between in different URLs and Blogs. While I've only written with their Sansa at this time, they have a lovely selection of ladies they write quite well!

@openxstrings

They've got a selection of top notice rare muses, and at least one nifty OC. It's been a bit since I checked out the roster. The ones I've written with are Edward Covenant from "The Order", Herc Hansen from "Pacific Rim", their Pacific Rim original, and Riddick-aka the badass Scifi Anti-Hero portrayed by Vin Diesal. Not only are all of these characters available, they write them damn well. Talking with them has been a true delight; and though there is a time zone difference, it's worth waiting for them to respond. Not to mention, they're honestly just great to talk to about antics planned or occurred.

@fallesto

This lovely person reblogs a roster of their active muses. They've got some of the tougher ones in the fandom-Cleganes, Joffrey, Qyburn, Selmy, and others. The roster also currently includes all of Margaery's husband. You should, honestly, already be following them.

@asoiafundone

A multi Muse by Lady Grey. A fantastic Mun and a dynamite writer. We haven't written quite as much as I'd like yet-but we have spoken a bit. Lovely person, brilliant writer.

@orionknytechildofzeus‌

Don't let the URL fool you, they’ve got more then one muse. They've got a cool selection of OC's and Canon characters, and they're a lot of fun to write with!

@sarcasmasadefense

I haven't written with them yet (my bad), but they seem very nice, and on their roster includes the lost Tyrell brothers, Willas and Garlan!

@mcssagcinabottlc

A lovely person I spoke to and wrote with a little; their roster contains Margaery's sister in law, Leonette Fossoway.

The Squad

These are two who've had the most OOC and partial crack interactions which. These discussions have been pretty much perfect, so, I identify them as Margaery's squad.

@bastardslayer

I mean, look at that URL. There are many talented Sansa's on this site, but that URL definitely stands out to me. We've been plotting and talking out of character almost fairly regularly, and they've got a great grasp of their muse.

@chevalier-de-la-fleurs

Similarly there are a number of great Loras's out there. That said, this particular Loras writer has always been the easiest for me to talk to. I don't know them well, but they're friendly, and a great writer, and I've really enjoyed writing with them.

Precious Ones

These are people I love writing with. Maybe they aren't in Margaery's squad (at least yet), but she definitely enjoys her time with them, and is prepared to fight for them.

@outlawerofbeets

NORA IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SUNSHINE SPOT IN THE FANDOM. We mostly scream head canons about Margaery and her smol King Husband back and forth at each other, but we have threaded. It's always a treat, and it usually tugs at my heart strings. For instance, once upon a time, Margaery found herself romantic with a Tywin. And she started to apologize to Tommen and explain she didn't think it was wise if they married, because she'd fallen in love with another. When she revealed who, Nora's Tommen's response was the most precious, purest things ever. "But he's old!" Also they've got an older Tommen/Arya ship that's to die for.

@agirlofwinterfell

This is the first time Margaery has really connected to an Arya. And, like most of the older people Arya meets, she would kill for this murder inclined child. We've already got one AU for my Olen verse, where both Arya and Margaery are at the wall pretending to be boys.

@a-maimed-man-and-bitter

So far we've got one thread; but ya know, it's been great watching Margaery and Jaime interact. This is furthered by the fact that their grasp of Jaime hurts my heart.

@mombeavty

Margaery is so happy to finally connect to her twice sister by law. And honestly, I've never quite grokked full book or show canon, as I personally favor blended-so I really like what the mun has done with their muse.

The Greatest Ladies GRRM Inspired

I have a mad love for original characters. While writing a pre-established character takes talent, original characters express one's love and passion for a fandom. That fandom has inspired a whole character. Side note, I honestly love original character relations to canon characters. (If you couldn't tell). I don't see role play as needing to follow canon, as long as everyone acts in character. So, the more the merrier.

@thelittlestrcse

Margaery didn't know how much she wanted a real sister until Trysta appeared. I'm a bit slow to respond to my threads with them, but this isn't commentary on my appreciation for mun or muse.

@lilliyxn

A newer lovely muse, one can never have enough Blackwaters. Where GRRM stopped with Bronn, they decided he needed a sister.

@meryllfrey

Honestly this is an original character that's managed to stick around, and that's saying something. Writing an OC can be extremely discouraging, with minimal interaction, almost no chance at shipping. But Lady Grey's Meryll Frey is a testament of creativity and determination.

Shout Outs

These are people I've talked to but for whatever reason haven't written with yet. For some of them, this is strictly on the standard of Margaery wouldn't interact with them, or I haven't cooked up anything yet.

@truetargaryen

This is a super sweet muse running a book based Danaerys Targaryean. While I favor blended canon myself, book canon is nuanced, so pulling it off is an impressive ability. And pull it off, they do.

@exilekniight

I first ran into them on one of my OC blogs, and honestly, I love them. Other then a previous absence of Jorah Mormonts in the fandom, well, let me quote them "Jorah Mormont FUCKS". This highlights their delightful attitude.

@longmayshereignxcersei

For obvious reasons, Margaery and Cersei will never be best buddies. That said, this is still my personal favorite Cersei-and not just because they put up with my originals. They're lovely as a person, and a very talented writer with some brilliant insight about their muse.

@foreignaccent

This is another monument of the fandom. I've been dabbling between different muses since Season 3, and I can usually find that URL around. A fandom treasure, and a nice person

@potterstillstinks

In talks with them, I fleshed out Margaery's wizarding world verse. They also put up with me because we were in the middle of discussion when I found myself in the ER due to a negative medication reaction. Even checked in. So, if you've got an HP verse, I strongly suggest following this Draco Malfoy.

Shameless Self Promo For Other Blogs of Mine You Should Check Out:

Did you know the Hightower's - Margaery's Mother's Family - are actually really interesting? They have a Valyrian blade called Vigilance. Their house is one of the oldest, they man a Lighthouse, and their words are "We Light the Way". OH and more notably, they're rumored to dabble in alchemy, necromancy, and other magic. So Margaery has two side Blogs: One for her mother, and one for one of her Aunts.

@vigilantalerie

Alerie Hightower is probably the mother of your favorite Tyrell. Olenna was born a Redwyne, she doesn't count. That's right-this is Mace Tyrell's wife, mother of Willas, Garlan, Loras, Margaery-and Trysta too!

@madmaidmalora

First of all, consider that that's not just a clever url. That's literally what she's called-the Mad Maid, rumored to dabble in spells, last seen locked away with her father looking for a method to stop the Greyjoy Incursion.

Next up I have a pair of OC Families. The Wildcrows, completely Original Content, and House Ferren-mostly original content.

@thewildcrows

Technically Alyssa and Baelor Wildcrow had different names when I first conceptualized them. But those original concepts were AU's for characters whose face claims already existed in Game of Thrones-and characters I'm actually plugging in original works. As I result, I created these two. Lys and Bael Wildcrow are Sellswords born of a Night's watch Deserter and a Wildling. Their father may have been a Blackfyre, but they have no idea what that means-nor would either of them care. If I'm not bothering with giving them a claim, why bother making them Blackfyres? One: I wanted to give them purple eyes. Two: Fire invulnerability neither of them realizes they have, as they grew up isolated. I find this could make for excellent hijinks.

@ladyferren

See, I love ferrets. Probably my favorite animal. So when a canon house was revealed called Ferren with two silver ferrets on its banner, I was desperate to know more. Except there wasn't much. They existed. Banner House of House Lannister. So I got a little carried away creating a history of a House and occupants to inhabit it. While the primary character is Seiran-the sudden Lady of her house after her father's sudden death-I also have the whole damn house hold available for interactions.

Finally, just a pair of fandomless girls I think you might just like:

@trixboomblast

Beatrix is a favorite creation of mine. She's a fandomless original character with explosive tendencies, behaviors, and habits.

@wikipediawoman

This is a side blog of Beatrix. Deia was inspired by Deadpool-what with the ability to poke the Fourth Wall and know way more then she should about pre-established character. I'm winging her as well somewhere between a Time Agent from Doctor Who and a member of the Temps Commision from Netflix's Umbrella Academy Adapttion.

#Falling Petals || PSA #((HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS))#((THANK YOU!!!))

10 notes · View notes

wolfricivarrwitchythings · 6 years

Text

Grey Magick: A Complete Explanation

The concept of “Black” or supposedly “evil” magick has existed Hollywood for as long as we can remember, bathing cliche horror witches in a bad light and really setting the tone for all of thee Western World.

But, where did this idea of “black”, “white”, and “gray” magick come from, and is it really necessary?

Back when the Burning Times were in full-swing, the term “black magic” was used by the church to be synonymous with “consorting with the devil”. The idea was that it’s practitioners brought on illness, cursed crops and livestock, practiced necromancy, necrophilia, “laid with the devil”, and other generally fround upon actions according to the church at the time. Of course, very few (if any) of the accused witches were actually doing any of these things, as they were nothing more than local Pagans, worshiping nature and honouring the old gods. It is doubtful that they even had an understanding or distiguished a difference between “white” and “black” magick.

But, the term lived on in our modern world, and while it has lost much of it’s potency, people still consider “black” magick to be on the more sinister side of the spectrum.

What actually is Black Magick?

There are many different translations of what Black Magick is or isn’t. Most modern witches work with the understanding the Black Magick is magick performed to a molevolent (harmful) end toward the target. Cursing, hexes, mind-control, or any spell where the victim’s (target’s) will is taken from them is commonly considered black magick.

Donald Michael Kraig, in his book Modern Magick describes Black Magick as “...the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity withhh will, using means not currently understood by traditional Western science, for the puroise if causing either physical or non-physical harm to yourself or others, and is done either consciously or un-consciously.”

I personally perscribe to that particular definition.

So... what is White Magick?

Modern practitioners hold that White magick is primarily benevolent magick, meant for the good of other people. Healing, prosperity spells, fertility magick, etc. have all been claimed as “white” or good magick. Magick that ensures the complete free-will of a person and has a benevolent end is generally considered White Magick.

Feel-good spells exist the world over. Performing these spells is generally harmless, but, in my experience, also doesn’t generally call out the big dogs. In a world full of give and take, is it possible to constantly give and get what we want in return?

Some would say yes. Having a giving attitude and practicing magick that helps others gives you good karma, which you can cash in to the universe to get what you want.

For consistency, Donald Michael Kraig describes White Magick as “...the science and art of causing change to occur in confirmity with will, using means not currently understood by traditional western science, for the purpose of obtaining the Knowledge and Conversation of your Holy Guardian Angel.”

For simplicity’s sake, White Magick is meant to connect you with the Divine. It can be rewarding and beautiful, but not entirely functional...for yourself.

So then... there is a third option?

Yes! And this third option is known as Grey Magick!

Grey Magick is basically the middle ground. It is the area of magick that most of us dwell in (at least, according to my understanding and Kraig’s definitions). Grey Magick gives us the freedom to use magick to our own end. When used properly, Grey Magick will allow the performance of spells meant to heal you or others, give you or others prosperity, fertility, knowledge, power, etc.

Grey Magick works with the idea that “those who cannot curse also cannot heal”, and encourages enbrassing your Shadow self. But, it does not necessarily state that you have to actually curse.

If you are not careful, Grey Magick can very easily turn in to Black Magick.

Kraig’s definition of Grey Magick: “...using means (Magick)... for the purpose of causing either physical or non-physical good to yourself or others...”

Do Grey Witches actually curse, then?

Some do, yes. However, Grey Witches generally only curse when they see no other option before them. Their curses are general in their own defense or in the defense of others and, when curses do go down, they usually lean heavily on the offensive.

Offensive spells are still considered curses because their purpose is still to cause harm toward the target. Although done in what Grey Witches would consider a moral way, offensive “curses”, as opposed to defensive spells, “wound” the target(s) so the stop them from doing whatever it is that is harming you.

A classic Grey Witch “curse” has what I consider a contingency: If *target* does *thing* then *this* will happen to him/her.

Example: If Stacy tries to steal my money again then she will be sick to her stomach until it is returned to me.

-OR-

If anyone enters my home and wishes me or mine ill in the here and now or in the future then they will become paranoid, agitated, and anxious, and have a burning desire to leave.

Setting up curse with a contingency is one of the best ways to avoid negative reprocussions. In this way, if the target does the thing and activates the curse, then it’s them that stuck their hand in the fire, and thus it is their own fault. Sure, you may have lit the fire to begin with, but the boundaries were clearly set up beforehand.

There are some Grey Witches who still use full-blown curses. While this is not necessarily bad, it may have some of those aforementioned negative reprocussions, and is still considered Black Magick.

Whatever label we choose to give it, it is important to note that Magick itself is not innately “good” or “evil”. It is nuetral. What differentiates “good” and “evil” magick then is way it is used. A hammer can build or detroy, but it depends on the weilder.

As always, be good and be kind Mi Maripositas!

Also, be sure to check out Patreon. You can become a Patron today for only $5/month! It would help to support me in what I love doing: Talking about and teaching witchcraft!

Other ways to support me: Visit my shop and buy some merch!

Or, consider making a donation via PayPal

#witchblr #witchcraft #magick #witchcraft basics #witchy tip #witchy things #spells #pagan #wiccan #wiccablr #grey magick #black magick #white magick

101 notes · View notes

rallis-fatalis · 5 years

Text

The Forms of Magic

Powerful, incredible, dangerous, extraordinary. Magic comes in many descriptions and forms, as do the mages themselves. There are as many different spells as there are practitioners. Vastly different spells don't generally work well together, and just like their magic, vastly different mages also struggle to get along. When Rallis meets a fellow mage with ideals quite different from her own, sparks threaten to quite literally fly as they attempt to work together. Hopefully they have more sense than their spells and can come to a conclusion that doesn't involve setting fire to a library.

It was rare Rallis visited Arceuus anymore. After an incident she'd rather not dwell on, she didn't feel safe in the city on her own. That being said, she loved the library and would brave a trip into the district for reading and research. Today was one of those days, and she hadn't gone alone either. Both Peg and Adam joined her and it made her feel much more comfortable, even if one of them was just there to goof around. Adam was used to Rallis dragging him along by now, she had begged him to accompany her so many times. At first, he thought perhaps she was still not well enough to be on her own from her most recent attack, but now he was starting to grow suspicious that it may be something more.

Rallis wanted to go to the library in hopes of finding information on something. Adam also had something on his mind lately he wanted to research, so at least tagging along with his friend wasn't completely unproductive. Peg just tagged along because she wanted to hang with them, but once she realized they were headed to a library of all places she knew she would grow bored quickly. While Rallis and Adam did whatever boring nonsense they were going to do, Peg found her entertainment in watching a young man talking to himself by a table against the far wall of the room as he fiddled with things in vials. He had a few books open and runes scattered over the table. As Peg continued to watch, the man jumped back with a shout and ducked under the table. A whirlwind of violet fire and sparks raced through the room shot down the connected corridor, threatening to set the books on fire.

The man whimpered under the table as he covered his head, whining about what to do over and over. Peg took action. "HEY! RALLIS! ADAM!" she hollered down the halls as she took her cloak off and pat out some of the smaller flames before they could run rampant.

Rallis came running first, quick to put the the main fire out with a blast of ice. That seemed to amaze the cowering mage, admiring the odd magic dragon from his spot on the floor. Adam came next and swore at the remaining sparks reaching for the books. "Peg, go get one of the librarians!" He pat out the rest of the sprouting flames with Rallis while Peg ran off and soon the explosive magic was no more.

Rallis held out a hand to the cowardly mage. "You can come out now. The fires are gone."

His eyes nearly popped out of his head at Rallis speaking. He forgot to even say thank you, and instead of taking her help to stand, he took her hand and looked it over. He jumped up, startling the dragon, and continued to look her over in wonder. It was making Rallis uncomfortable.

"Is something wrong?" she said with drooped tail and ears.

The mage nodded and muttered to himself before coming to a conclusion. "Yes, I've got it. You are simply... a marvel. You're made of some crazy magic, aren't you? What an odd reptile. Why do your scales look like woad leaves? Hmm, maybe they are! And your ability to speak and use magic! I'd love to examine you..." He spoke rather quickly and without censor.

Rallis paled and slithered behind Adam who had now joined them. She grabbed his hand and whispered to him. "He makes me nervous."

He rubbed her arm as if to say everything was fine and stepped forward. "Are you alright, sir?" Adam asked. "That was a rather sudden explosion."

The mage waved his hand. "Pssh, I've done worse. It was just some magic gone wrong. I'm fine."

"I seem to remember the librarians having a strict rule against practicing magic in here for just this kind of reason," Adam scolded. "You could have burned everything."

"But I didn't," he said snarkily. "Thanks to you and your... incredible friend." Rallis hissed under her breath. She didn't like how he spoke of her. It wasn't just admiration, it was more like evaluation. "Besides, as long as the librarians don't find out, everything's fine! You didn't tell them, right?"

Before either of them could reply, Peg came sprinting into the room, followed by the most furious and shrill scream they had ever heard.

"LLLAAANNNCCCIIISSS!!!"

In stormed a furious Biblia, screeching harsh enough to give a wyvern a run for its money. Seeing the normally quiet and collected specter seething pure anger was startling to say the least.

"Oh boy, you did," the mage winced. "Hi Bib--"

She grabbed him by the ear and yanked him hard, like a furious mother. "LANCIS I INFORMED YOU OF WHAT WOULD HAPPEN THE NEXT TIME YOU DISOBEYED OUR RULES!" She continued to pull his ear as she shouted, forcing a tear out of his eye and quickly having him beg for mercy. "POTENTIAL TO HARM OUR GUESTS, POTENTIAL TO HARM OUR STAFF, POTENTIAL TO BURN THE BOOKS, POTENTIAL TO BURN THE BUILDING, AND MORE! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!" She gave him one last harsh tug and let him go. The mage whimpered as he rubbed his ear. Biblia calmed herself and returned to her normal indoor voice. "From this point onward, you will be searched every trip you make into the library. Any runes, vials, concoctions, or otherwise possibly dangerous contents will be left with a capable mage until you leave the premises. If you have any objections, I'm sure Logosia would love to speak with you. Am I understood?"

He opened his mouth to argue but the tension in the air quickly made himself realize that would be a foolish decision. He gave the librarian a pouty 'fine.' Biblia held her hands out, waiting for him to hand everything over. The specter floated away with stacks of runes and rather unsafe looking chemical compounds.

Rallis worriedly eyed the bubbling vials the librarian was taking away. "Just what kind of mage are you?"

Adam thought he had an idea who. "She said your name was Lancis, right? You wouldn't happen to be Lancis the Wild Formula, would you?" The description he had certainly matched the mage in front of him. Long dirty blonde hair with a beard of a similar color, simple glasses to help him see, stood around 5'8, blue and white wizard robes the mystic mages of Yanille usually sported, and a demeanor as wild as the story behind his title.

Peg and Rallis looked at him questioning who that was, and the mage tilted his head back with a groan. "Yes, that's me. Could you please not call me by my name? I hate my name. Form is much better. You know, 'form' from 'formula?'" He laughed at his attempt at a witty name, but no one played along. He groaned again. "Please just call me literally anything other than my name."

"He seems like a kook," Peg said. Adam tossed her a withered look and Rallis nodded in agreement.

"He's a Legend," Adam explained. "He's a mage and alchemist who saved an entire city from being wiped off the map."

Form interrupted him. "Yeah, I stopped a plague, cured the sick, did some cool magic, you know how it goes. What a ride that was!"

Rallis grumbled under her breath. "The last Legend mage we met tried to kill us. This one makes me just as nervous."

"He's no Miles," Adam assured her. "He's just... well, 'wild' is in his title for a reason." He turned his attention back to Form. "What brings someone like you across the ocean?"

"What else? Magic of course. The magic on the continent over is stale. There's a whole new kind to be discovered here! I've been trying to test the limits of Arceuus magic, but everything I try has been blowing up in my face lately. Just like my most recent trial, as you saw..."

"Arceuus magic is used for reanimation," Rallis said. "What were you doing to get it to explode?!"

"Trying to turn the magic into a potion." He said that like it was obvious and that she was stupid for even asking. "Reanimation magic is such a pain to learn and practice and it's harder to do the farther away you are from the Dark Altar. So I'm trying to make it portable and usable by all, regardless of skill. Pretty cool, right?"

The three of them were intrigued. Such a feat didn't sound possible, but the idea was certainly an interesting one.

"So with your potion I could, what, dump the thing on a dead person and they'd come back as a zombie or something?" Peg piped up. "Even if I can't do magic?"

Form shrugged. "If it worked, then yeah, pretty much. Except this way they'd hopefully come back as their normal selves and not mindless cannibals."

"That seems rather reckless and dangerous," Adam warned. "The dead stay dead. Whenever they're forced back to life, there are always complications. Also I'm pretty sure that's considered necromancy which isn't entirely legal."

"Well I'm obviously not going to test this on people immediately. Maybe I'll try it on some flowers or a dead tree or something, see what happens. I can deal with complications when they happen." He completely ignored the legality statement. "And if for some reason it just never pans out, the idea could be pretty useful for making a healing potion. If the power that lies here is strong enough to heal the dead, I don't see why it couldn't heal the living as well."

Rallis had to admit, that seemed extremely useful. She could use healing magic herself, but it wasn't a common practice and in reality it only transferred the pain from one person to another, not actually heal a wound completely. An actual healing spell at her fingertips that anyone could use seemed incredible.

"Why can't you get the spell to work as a potion then?" she asked.

Form smiled, eager to explain his process. "I've already made enough progress to know what needs to be combined in order for this thing to work. Trust me, that took an experiment or five. Why do you think the librarians here hate me?" He scooped up his now partially burnt and stained notes from the table behind him and showed off his notes and drawings as he spoke. "The biggest issue for me is getting the most important part physically into the vial. If my theory is correct, this potion will only work if it contains magic from the Dark Altar. Not much, but some. The way to get that is through these."

He fished out a small shard of purple crystal, a sliver from the giant ones that grew all around the Altar like weeds. It was hardly bigger than a fingernail.

"These need to be ground into powder and mixed with the rest of the ingredients. Only problem is when you shatter or grind one of these crystals, they explode. That fire you saw earlier? That was from something this tiny."

Rallis frowned. "Are you sure? They're not exactly easy to break, granted, but I've broken a few with no repercussions." She snatched the shard from his hand and bit it in half. Form squealed in fear and ducked for cover, but nothing happened. He stared at the dragon in shock and awe.

"Why didn't it explode?! How did you do that?!"

"Simple. The magic grows unstable if you break one of these. So you just move the magic then put it back when you've broken it." She snapped the weakened small shard between two claws and showed them to the mage. The claws she cracked it open with glowed the faintest bit of purple. "Remove the magic, break the crystal, and..." She touched the bits again and they sucked the glow out of her nails. "Put it right back."

Form's jaw hit the floor at the realization while Peg and Adam just watched in lost confusion. Neither of them entirely understood how magic worked. Rallis handed back the fragments and snapped a spark out of her fingers. "That's amazing!" Form sputtered. "You're amazing! I can't believe... I can't do that! Please, you have to teach me how to do that!"

"Umm..." She turned to Adam. "That's up to you. If it's late, we can go back to Hosidius. And I don't... I can't be here... alone."

"I know." He pat her head. "I'm quite lost but it seems interesting. A potion that could heal any wound on the go is certainly something I'd like to learn about. Could have used that this past year, that's for sure."

Put that way, Peg was interested as well. And if she got bored during their experimentation, she was sure she could find some poor soul to entertain her, whether voluntarily or not.

"As long as I'm home to feed Tanner in time, I don't mind," Adam told her. "It's your decision."

Rallis chirped a thanks to her friends. She was still wary of mages in general, but this one seemed to have good intentions, even if he was a bit eccentric showing them. She decided she'd help. "Alright I can try to teach you how to transfer magic." Form's eyes sparkled. "But you'll need to practice on your own for a long time. You can't learn this in a day."

Form seemed to ignore her statement. "Fine, sure, now let's get started!"

The four sat down at the now burnt table and listened to Rallis with varying degrees of interest. "In order to transfer magic from one thing to another, you need to know where the magic is going to be momentarily stored. When I broke the crystal, the magic was stored in myself, more specifically my teeth and claws. I can do that because of what I am. I can store magic anywhere at all. It's different for you since you're a human. Tell me, where do you think you would have to house the crystal's magic?"

Form may have been a master of magic, but even he had no idea the answer to that. "In a piece of essence?"

Rallis shook her head. "You can't get the magic back out if you do that. You'll just end up making dense essence and then all you can do from there is make some runes."

The mage grew huffy. "Then where does it go?"

"How well do you know the four locations of magic?"

Peg hopped out of her seat at that. That sounded like the beginning of a boring lecture she wanted no part of. She ran off to bother the nearby librarian for something more interesting to read. Maybe there was some tale of romance somewhere.

"What kind of half-baked mage do you take me for?" Form scoffed. "Of course I know them! In humans, they are the eyes, the mind, and the hands, and in more powerful beings, they gain the fourth of the heart." He smirked, proud to show off his knowledge.

"Exactly," Rallis praised. "So for you, which of the three would make sense to store excess magic in?"

"The mind is always the safest bet."

"Normally, yes. But this magic isn't normal. You'll go mad if you let it persist in your thoughts. It's safer to hold in your hands. That way if something goes wrong you'll just cause another explosion and not kill yourself or go mad."

Form nodded at the valid reasoning. Adam tried to keep up with the conversation. "I had no idea magic was this complicated. No wonder I could never do it."

"You probably couldn't because you have to master magic sight first and your eyes are always too busy staring at women," Rallis snorted. Adam playfully swat her with a scowl and she giggled.

"So all I have to do is will the magic out of the crystal and into my hand and that's it? That's not hard! That's the same as pulling magic out of a rune!"

"When you pull it out of a rune, you use the spell immediately. This isn't a spell and so there's nothing to 'use.' It's not the same. It's going to be hard to just take out and hold onto, not to mention you have to put the magic back after. Go ahead and try it like you would a spell. See what happens."

Cocky, Form concentrated and tried to will the magic out of the crystal. The shard grew a flicker brighter but otherwise nothing happened. He frowned and tried again. Nothing. He grit his teeth in frustration and tried once more, trying to picture the purple glow leaving the crystal and resting at his fingertips as clear as he could. The crystal almost seemed to sigh in disappointment as it ceased glowing. Form slammed his hands on the table. "What gives?!"

An angry shush echoed down the halls at his scream.

"Told you, it's not the same," Rallis said. "It's hard to train yourself to hold onto magic instead of just immediately using it, so when it comes to something like this, it's either you pull it out and hold it or nothing happens at all."

"Magic is all about thinking! I'm thinking I want to hold it and it's not working! There's obviously a secret to this so what is it?!"

"There is no secret," Rallis stated matter-of-factly. "It's just hard and takes practice. Humans can't do it easily so it's going to be a lot harder for you than it is for me. You just need to keep trying to feel the magic in the crystal and help it move from one point to the next. You can't force it, just take it slow, think, and feel."

Form grumbled and tried again. Time sped by as the mage tried and failed to make the dark magic bend to his wishes. Rallis gave him tips and examples here and there, giving the mage every trick she could think of to make this work. Adam and Peg came and went as they pleased, checking in on the dragon from time to time. Peg found the closest thing to a romance novel she could find and sat down at their table to read it. Adam was shocked the girl was actually reading a book, but when he asked what it was about, she would hide her face and cover the page with her cloak. If she was going to act strange, he wasn't about to bother her. He continued hunting for any book on something specific he was interested in, but he had little luck. The only book he could find with the librarians' help was an old childish book of fables, which he sat down with and absentmindedly flipped through.

Hours had passed and Form had no progress to show. He was growing angry and Rallis grew frustrated at his anger. "This is impossible!" he shouted, startling Peg out of a particularly heated scene of the book. "I'm no magical talking beast, I can't do this!"

Rallis frowned. "I told you this isn't something you can do in a day. It's going to take a while."

"Well since you seem to be such a master, why don't you make my potion for me?"

"Because it's your work, not mine. And if I made one, would you have me make another? Or all of them? I would end up doing all your work for you. You're a mage, you should want to practice something new like this."

"No! I'm supposed to get everything quickly! When I wanted to learn magic, I understood it immediately! When I wanted to learn alchemy, I mastered every combination in weeks! When I had to find and create a cure for a plague that gave me my name, I did so quickly, efficiently, and masterfully!" He growled at the unassuming crystal shard on the table. "So why can't I do this?!"

"That which is worth learning does not come easily," Adam interrupted like some poetic sage. It was obviously not what Form wanted to hear.

"That's what the unskilled tell each other when they're not good enough to get it the first time. I am a prodigy!" He did a double take at what Adam was slowly flipping through and snatched the book away from him. The man gave a whiny 'hey' at the action. Form hurriedly flipped through the book and slammed his hand down on one of the pages. "This! This is what I need! If I had this, I could do any feat of magic without issue, even something like this!"

Rallis tried to peek at the page, but Form's hand covered too much. "That's a book of myths," Adam said. "I was looking through it for information on an old tale. Nothing in there is real."

Form waggled a condescending finger at him. "You're wrong to think that. I've done research on this exact book and all the tales of magic inside and I know everything there is to know. This is probably the only thing in this book that's real." He moved his hand off the page. "The imbued heart."

Rallis turned a ghostly shade of white, Adam curiously waited for more information as that was what he was investigating, and Peg's attention was finally captured.

"'Ancient beasts that walked the land, humans with their heart in hand, the fires of war grew and fanned, with magic imbued turned life to sand.' I could recite the whole tale by heart, no pun intended." He laughed at his own remark and continued. "The imbued heart lets anyone use nearly any kind of magic, whether they're a mage themselves or not. I could perform a party trick like this without issue if I had one of those! Hell, I probably wouldn't even need to resort to making a potion if I had one! I could just heal and reanimate as I desire!"

"You should never wish to own such a thing," Rallis hissed. She scowled at the meticulously painted colorful picture next to the tale Form spoke of. It held a gruesome stylized drawing of a human tearing out the heart of a monster and using it to become a mage-king no one could disobey. "You would have to murder the innocent for one. Disgusting."

"Innocent?" Form snorted. "It's a monster. You think I'd care? Monsters aren't innocent, they kill people. Another dead beast doesn't matter if it means we can--"

He didn't get to finish. Rallis was out of her seat in such a fury, the poor chair went sliding across the floor. Her claws and fangs were out as she snarled at the mage. Peg instinctively turned into a raccoon and hid under the table, and Adam was out of his chair just as quickly, ready to restrain his friend if she went mad. The mage cowered in his chair, as if just remembering who, or rather what, he was talking to.

"So it doesn't matter if the beast you kill doesn't look human! As long as it's not your kind, you're free to do whatever you want with it! Since you can't understand it, it must be an evil killing machine! People like you are the reason they're all dead!" Her fangs were growing dangerously close to the mage's face as she snarled. Form was shaking in his seat as she inched closer. "You are the murderer, not us! People like you...! Like you... are the reason I...! The reason I nearly di--!"

Suddenly, Rallis began to cough and waver. She nearly fell to her knees, holding steady against the table for support, claws digging deep into the wood. Peg squeaked worriedly from under the table and Adam reached to help her but she pushed him back.

"People like you... are sick..." she rasped between coughs. "You don't deserve magic."

Without another word, she turned tail and stomped away. Peg turned back into a human and motioned as if Adam should follow her. Form hadn't even noticed the girl's own transformative magic he was too shaken from the dragon's rage, nor had he noticed the grooves Rallis carved into the table faintly glowing blue for a moment before fading away. Adam ran after his friend, leaving Peg to handle the shaken mage.

Rallis had ran off into a dark quiet corner of the library, hidden from anything and anyone, even proper lighting. She was leaning against one of the shelves and panting like she had run laps around Kourend. She faced a wall of shelves and didn't see her friend appear behind her.

"Hey, Rallis, you okay?"

Adam worriedly reached for her shoulder. She spun out of his reach with a gasp, slamming her back against the shelves and knocking books to the floor. She looked terrified as she wished the books would swallow her whole and let her escape from her friend's sight. Her claws glowed bright blue, one hand gouging similarly glowing marks into the shelf she held onto, the other gripping her chest in pain. The same blue glow flickered in her eyes and chest, barely visible through the dragonhide top. He reached for her again, this time much more worried. "Rallis, what is going on?"

"Nothing! Just...! Go away! Give me a minute... Please..."

"Alright." He backed away. "You'll be alright?"

Rallis nodded her head and turned away, sinking to the floor to sit with the fallen books.

"I'll be right here." He turned the corner, out of her sight. She breathed a sigh of relief and focused on calming down, thankful to be alone in her quiet dark corner. Adam worriedly poked his head in every now and then, wanting to make sure she was okay. After a while, she calmed down and the glow vanished. She quietly put the fallen books back into their spots and shuffled out of the corner. She grew embarrassed upon seeing her friend again, wishing he hadn't seen her little fit. He, however, was just happy she seemed to be walking around just fine despite whatever episode that was. "Are you alright?”

She sullenly nodded her head.

"And how about your snarling at Form? That was quite the explosion, even for you. You mind telling me what that was about?"

Rallis hissed and he could see her claws dig into the carpet they stood on. "I just can't stand it!" she shouted. "He just wants magic handed to him on a silver platter, and he doesn't care where that platter comes from! Thinking it's okay to kill what he thinks is a monster just so he doesn't have to work as hard!"

Adam could see her claws start to flicker blue again until she shook her head with a groan.

"He's just like the rest of these damn Arceuus mages! Too lazy to find a real solution to their ineptitude so they resort to cutting open another living being! They don't care where their magic comes from so long as they get it!" Her screaming quieted into an angry whisper as a tear trailed down her face. Her claws dug into her chest again. "They don't care..."

Adam realized what was going on, why she blew up and was acting so strange. He already had his suspicions. "You have one, don't you? What he's looking for, an imbued heart." He could hear her breath hitch and see her grow completely still. He was right. "That's why you got so mad."

Rallis whined, wanting to keep that information hidden, but if she couldn't trust her friend, she couldn't trust anyone. "Yes, I do... And you can't tell anyone. I've had enough experiences with the mages here trying to rip me open to get it, I don't need anyone else knowing what I have. Especially not someone like him."

'The mages here?' he thought. He had figured that was the case, but to have her confirm it. "So it did happen here. I started to assume so. You've grown scared of this place even in passing conversation ever since I found you bleeding behind the bar. How come you never told me who did it?"

"I don't know... Maybe I thought if I didn't speak of it, if I stopped thinking about those four awful demons, it would all fade like a bad dream and I'd stop being scared," she admitted. "But that wasn't the case. Now it's become part of my nightmares like Galvek and everything else." She let out an angry bark of a laugh. "It seems even an entire continent over, nothing has changed. I saved Arceuus by helping them with their ice elemental problem, and how do they thank me? By trying to cut my heart out, that's how! I save the world from Galvek and I'm treated like a monster here to end mankind in his place. Galvek, Wintertodt, whatever comes next, it will always be the same. Humans really are no different no matter where you go..."

"That's not true and you know it. Don't let the faults of the few make you lose your faith in the many. There are plenty of people here and the continent over who are grateful for what you've done. I know I am, and I'm glad you're still here." He grabbed her hand and her pout bloomed into a smile. She nuzzled his arm with a purr as a thanks. "Now come on," he tugged her hand. "I'm sure they're worried about your storming off." Rallis nodded and they began their walk back. She already seemed better. Adam was glad she bounced back quickly.

A thought popped into his head as they walked. "So is this how you were able to pull that crazy stunt against Galvek?" he asked. "You froze the damn ocean and more during that fight. I've never seen anything like it!"

Rallis nodded. "Yeah. It lets me do magic as strong as I want without runes." She winced as the ghost of the painful aftermath made itself present at her remembrance. "It hurts so much though."

"Considering what you're using instead of runes, I can imagine it's a little more painful than some heartburn, and likely infinitely more dangerous. I wouldn't use that power if I were you." Even still, he couldn't help but admire at how incredible it must be to have such power. He found himself wanting to use it, but sharply reminded himself such power always had dire consequences.

"I try not to. And please, tell no one. Don't even tell Peg."

"Don't even tell Peg what?" a different voice broke into their conversation. Peg popped her head out from behind a corner as Rallis and Adam neared the table they had spent most their day at. Rallis jumped out of her skin at how stealthily Peg had snuck up on them. "So what aren't we telling me?" she pried again.

"That I'm making nothing but vegetables for your dinner," Adam joked.

Peg stuck out her tongue and pretended to puke. "Disgusting! How dare you even suggest such a thing!"

Form awkwardly walked over to the three, much more quiet and shy than before. Rallis didn't want to continue talking to the mage. She just wanted to go home where it was nice and safe. But she supposed she had to finish what she started.

"So, listen," the mage began. "I'm not good with the whole apology thing because I just don't do anything wrong, or even when I do I personally don't think it's worth apologizing over, and even then--!"

Rallis scowled at his tangential nonsense.

"Off track, I know. What I mean is... I'm sorry. Really sorry. I've been rude. I'm just not used to... not getting things perfect immediately."

"Hard work is the only way to get things done," Rallis scolded. "Instant perfection isn't a thing. Nor are shortcuts."

"I know, I get it. I'll keep practicing. Hopefully I can make this project work, and soon!"

"And with your own power. Don't go relying on a murderous myth."

Form was appalled remembering his outburst. "Ugh, god, yeah, I'm sorry about that. I guess that's like if you told me killing people would be fine if it meant you could do some fancy magic. I did not think that through and I'm sure it was insulting."

"Very."

"I'll be more careful in the future," he vowed. "I suppose I'll have to get out of your hair now. Or, horns? Either way, I'll leave you be. Thank you for the insight and help. If this ever works, you'll be the first to know!"

"I hope it does work. It sounds exciting and useful."

"Just don't use it for illegal reanimation," Adam warned. "Prison isn't fun."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Oh but I do have one last request!" Form excitedly bounced up to Rallis. "Could I possibly have some of your scales?"

"What?!"

"Well, they're just so different from standard blue dragon scales! You are a blue dragon, correct? Yours are so pale and oddly shaped, I swear they look like woad leaves! And with how interesting and magical you are, they must be too! Please, I must have some for tests!"

Rallis hissed. "No way!" She booked it down the nearest flight of stairs, fast as she could. "Bye, Form!"

The mage cursed but did not pursue. He had to clean his mess of a table up and more practicing to do before he went chasing after the dragon. Adam and Peg said goodbye as well and much more calmly scaled the stairs to the ground floor.

"They do look like woad," Peg mumbled. "What if she glues them on?"

"Rallis does not glue on woad leaves. That's ridiculous."

The two met back up with the dragon and readied to leave. Before they could exit, Adam took note of Peg trying to hide a book under her cloak. "You know, I'm glad you found something you actually enjoy reading. But are you really trying to steal from a library, Peg?" Adam chided.

Peg's face turned bright red. "N-no!"

"Then why are you hiding a book that's obviously not yours under your cloak?"

"I'm not!"

Too occupied with arguing with Adam, Peg had no time to react to Rallis swiftly yanking the book out. She ignored the girl's desperate pleas for its return and read the title. "'The Tale of Sir Richard and Princess Felidae.' Never heard of it."

"Give it here," Adam said, holding his hand out. "So this is what you were reading? The title seems adventurous." Peg had no hope of reaching it now. He flipped it open and skimmed through, not only curious about what kind of book could capture Peg's interest, but also have her trying to hide it. As he flipped through, something caught his eye and his green face began to turn red. Peg immediately knew what he just read. "Peg! I can't believe--! You shouldn't--! Peg!!!"

"Stoooooop!" she howled, embarrassed.

"What is it?" Rallis asked.

She reached for the book and both of them screamed 'no.' Adam cleared his throat and composed himself. "Why the library would have such a book on display for children to read..."

"I'm not a child! Besides, you have worse under your bed."

"PEG!"

Rallis finally understood. "Oh is it like the pictures of naked humans I found that you told me not to ask about?"

Adam's face grew brighter red and Peg smirked. "Yeah but this is even better. You have to picture it yourself since it's only words and it's so much more descriptive."

"Huh. So am I allowed to ask now why there's drawings and now books about naked humans that both of you seem to enjoy?"

"No, absolutely not!" Adam shouted. He stomped over to the nearest librarian and all but slammed the book in their hands to be put away. "We are never discussing this! Now let's go home!"

Peg followed after Adam with a cheeky grin and evil laughter, leaving a confused Rallis to trail behind.

#osrs #my writes #oc tag #runescape

1 note · View note

sunken-standard · 5 years

Note

Sherlolly necromancer/undead they raised and fell in love with AU for the ask thanks

From this ask meme thing.

Thanks anon :D

So Sherlock’s been frequenting Bart’s foryears. Mike Stamford lets him have access to the labs, sometimeseven body parts. One day he’s in the morgue and they wheel a bodyin; she was a pathologist, fresh out of school and set to start workthere within the week. Real puzzle; Scotland Yard was treating itlike a suicide, but even Mike thinks that doesn’t seem right (notfrom any of Sherlock’s deductions, but because he’d talked to her afew times, since he was to be working with her, and she didn’t seemthe type or like she’d been depressed at all). Ah well, thepostmortem would tell them everything, Mike reasoned.

Sherlock’s curious, though, and he’sjust come into possession of a grimiore from a very odd andunsettling case and it’s a whim more than anything when he conductsthe ritual. He doesn’t believe in the supernatural at large, there’sa rational explanation for everything, but… Truly, the only way todisprove something is to experiment. And he’s always been a bit of aromantic underneath it all, prone to whimsy and lured by thefantastic at times.

So he does the thing—not much to it,some candles and chanting and a little bit of his own blood(not a virgin, thankyouverymuch, it might have only been 45 secondsand just the tip freshman year but it counted) and nothinghappens. He feels a little silly, but whatever, it was anexperiment. He goes home. Hours later he springs out of bed becausehe hears a crash; he runs into the lounge to find the formerly deadwoman from the morgue confusedly trying to make tea (?!!) whilewearing nothing but a labcoat. (He’s not faring much better; he’sonly got a sheet wrapped around himself.) He consults the grimioreto see if he missed something and finds footnotes in an appendix thatgo into more detail.

More after the cut because yeah, long:

So it turns out the spell is to raise aminion/ personal servant and the newly returned is compelled to findthe person whose blood was used (their new master) and to do thingsfor them. It takes a bit for the undead person to come fully backonline, hence the nearly-naked tea making.

When Molly’s fully herself, she wantsto go back to her flat, but some things become apparent: she has nopulse and she’s cold to the touch. There’s no way she can explainthis to anyone and just play it off like it was Lazarus Syndrome,she’s definitely a corpse. So she’s kind of stuck with Sherlock, butshe’s actually okay with it (she’s the silver-lining, lemonade fromlife’s lemons type) because she’s not actually dead-dead andSherlock’s quite fit, quite posh, and quite clever (even if he’s amassive dork), so she could have done much worse, all things considered.

Even the master/ servant thing isn’tgross or terrible or even kind of skeevy like I Dream ofJeannie—it’s all just helping with experiments and cases, funthings she would jump at the chance to do if she were alive. Mrs.Hudson does the housekeeping and Sherlock lives off of tea andmoonbeams and Ginger Nuts, so she doesn’t have to cook; sometimes shedoes errands, but only because she likes being around people and kindof misses it. Only when it’s cold, since she starts to smell a bit if shegets too warm. She’s small so she sleeps in the fridge (well,doesn’t sleep so much as kind of zones out; it’s surprisinglyeasy to empty your mind when there’s no detectable electricalactivity in your brain).

Since Sherlock never met John in thisAU, he attaches to Molly and she becomes his best friend, whichquickly grows to more than a friend, which is very awkward for himsince women aren’t his area and also it’s technically necrophilia.

No time for lots of angst, though,because Moriarty is on the scene and things are going the same way asTRF. Operation Lazarus goes a bit differently this time, since Mollycan’t get him a body or help him set up the whole thing with theroof. It’s okay, though, because they have necromancy. Mollyremembers she had bloodwork done just a few days before she died(checking for low iron or something, whatever) and it’s probablystill in the lab; they break in and retrieve it. Even though theyaren’t sure it’s going to work, Sherlock jumps and dies and Mollyuses the spell to bring him back (also having Mycroft do the spell isa contingency, but no one wants that and thankfully they don’t evenhave to try it). So now Sherlock is Molly’s zombie slave and theylive happily ever after.

And somewhere in there they’d solveMolly’s murder (which I haven’t figured out the details of, butprobably poison and a shitty landlord), too.

Oh, and Jim was dead, but Eurus gotahold of the book and brought him back. A lot of his brain wasdestroyed, though, so he’s just her pet idiot/ court jester atSherrinford.

#anon #from an ask meme #sherlolly

28 notes · View notes

rhodesmystery · 5 years

Note

Omgg I have so many questions abt Natasha but to begin with - 7,8, 16. 27 because I was always curious about her magic. And 29 - about that breakup... Sorry if it's too much and take as much time as you need, tbh I'd like to send you the whole list haha 🌸

YOU ARE TOO KIND and I am VERY embarrassed but thank you SO MUCH!!!!!!

7. Socioeconomic background – and how it affects their behaviour.

So, her family is pretty well off. Both sides. Her father’s side has sketchy kind of results of money, as no one can confirm or deny if they’re tied up with illegal business but they’re also involved with like advertising and music so who honestly knows. Natasha doesn’t question it, obviously, also because like the more she spends away from her dad and that home, it’s just not really her problem? At least that’s how she sees it (unfortunately). Does make travel easier for her though.

As for her mother’s side, the Urquhart family does well on their own, even without connections to other pureblood/halfblood families through marriages. The Urquhart family raises and trains Sainglens - which are slightly smaller Abraxans, with solid black coats similar to Friesians (I made them up for something ages ago but am still fond of them so they stay even though the idea doesnt count anymore lol). Even with like generous gifts from her grandparents on holidays and birthdays, Natasha was very comfortable.

In saying all that, it’s really obvious it does skew her kind of. Understanding. Of everything. Natasha can catch herself a lot before saying anything but sometimes it gets out. She can buy gifts, and eats well, dresses nice, in both muggle and wizard society. Can casually buy Charlie a new wand. She’s not quite that level of “what does one banana cost? $10?” but there are times when yeah, she lets the ball drop, and there’s a bit of ire. Money doesn’t buy her happiness, though. Aquila, her uncle, at least encourages regular donations and activities here and there to keep her grounded.

8. Their family house – how does it look like? What’s the interior like, is there garden outside? Trinkets, furniture, books?

The Rhodes family home consists of an apartment in Manhattan, that’s honestly a little isolating and cold, plus the family manor that’s outside the city limits, that is older than most people, and makes Natasha feel out of sorts. Both of her rooms in those places are actually surprisingly sparse, with the bare minimum of clothes, maybe a few plants, blue sheets on her bed. The walls have clear discolouration from posters being taken down, and some chips in the paint because of blutack.

The Urquhart manor is pretty much her home. Her room is bright yellow and open windows with a squishy old armchair in the corner that belonged to her great great grandmother. There’s a few bookcases shoved up against the walls, the red wood clashing with the white vanity sitting next to it, that’s covered in beaded jewellery and stickers and photos that are laughing and dancing. There’s a footstool that Natasha is pretty sure walks on it’s on when she’s not looking, and she’s got her posters there now, papering one whole wall. Stuff is hanging and there’s paper cranes flying around her ceiling and there’s so many little things to find, from the crystal ball to the little dog figurine to several brooms and exactly twelve pairs of odd socks lying on the ground.

16. What’s their taste like re: interior design, art, gadgets? If they have (had) money - antiques or modern design? Ikea or whatever? Art collecting, fashion, wine? Pokemon cards in the 90s?

Natasha is honestly pretty messy havoc with making things work if only because they have to exist. Her mother’s insistence on having minimalism didn’t take, because surprisingly it was her father who encouraged her to pick up and collect things, so she’s very fond of picking up rocks and feathers. As far as collecting goes… clothes, definitely. And magazines. Lots and lots of magazines.

27. MC’s magic – white, black or some shades of grey? Are they mainstream or do they push the envelope with niche stuff? Are they showy or subtle, systems oriented or intuitive? What’s their strong and weak points? Can they go wandless or wordless? Do they do tarot, divination or alchemy? NECROMANCY???

For the most part, Natasha has the white magic, except when its something like red sparks, of course. Very controlled and tight, however, with not overly large brushstrokes (thanks, Lyra). It works well for her, at least, because she isn’t throwing heaps of energy into her work either, so it gives her a little more stamina to work with too. Maybe it has her looking like she isn’t trying, which can be a serious downside when Natasha is seriously trying to duel, but people take it as her being slack.

Natasha likes the mainstream stuff, don’t get her wrong, but she completely has looked into other magics available. Whilst she’s not the most creative, or at least, not the most dedicated to creating, there have been a few spells made by her. Mostly in the form of waypoint stuff, just to help friends when exploring. Niche stuff that’s kind of whispered about, and she has delved into fancy hexes and jinxes that are frowned upon, especially some that were made by people unknown and just passed down through the years. Those are the showier magics though, the flashy bangs and noises that she gets into when she lets herself go. Which is why they’re very rare for her to perform, not because she can’t, but Natasha just hears her mother’s voice and disapproval.

She’s a strong dueller, by a long shot, with nice footwork and a good centre of balance. But she fights too tightly to her core. It can lead to her being exposed, especially if there is someone to defend. Suddenly having to throw out her barriers isn’t a strong suit, as Natasha has a long line of learning to defend number one, first. Not anyone else.

There are some things she can do wordlessly, but they’re more lower level charms. As for being wandless, she can’t do it. At all. Natasha relies on her wand like crazy as that focal point. If anything, the only thing she could potentially do wandless is legilimency, but that’s a stretch. I’ve said before that if someone is open with strong emotions, she can skim them, especially with eye contact. But when it’s the spell and actually directed vocally, it’s a helluva lot stronger. And divination runs through her blood. She jokingly makes up stuff to freak out Trelawny, but sometimes she’s honestly not wrong. On certain days it’s a sneaking suspicion. On others, a heavy dream that plays out part by part. Natasha tells only her great great grandmother, and no one else.

Don’t ask her to do potions. She’s absolutely shite at it. Charms and transfigurations are her strongest points, with defence against the dark arts pulling up the rear.

29. MC’s close people dynamics – it can be anything from aromantic soulmates to romantic dynamics, the special people for your MC and how these relationships change over time?

Bill is her life long nonromantic partner. Nothing will ever break them up. Ever. At one point, they joked about if they weren’t married by 30, they’d marry each other for tax benefits. Natasha is largely influenced by Bill, and doesn’t know who she would be without him. Even when Natasha seems to have disappeared from the world for a time, Bill always receives letters, updates. They keep in constant, almost regular, contact, and their letters are pages long, so that neither of them miss out on anything.

Penny is a very solid point of origin for Natasha. It might’ve taken a while for them to get to that point, but Penny is a hallmark in the history of Natasha. Since first meeting, it’s just been a solid friendship, with lots of tears and late nights and like Natasha is open with very few people, and even deeper again with others… but Penny knows her. They may mess around and Natasha might be her guinea pig for potions, but if you need to find out something about Natasha, where she is, what she’s doing? Penny. Find Penny.

Tulip is another unlikely friend. For the most part, they seem the opposites. Tulip comes across as the perfect, ambitious, conniving Slytherin, and Natasha the studious, wise, careful Ravenclaw. Tulip’s parents are law abiding, hard on everything, please follow suit. Natasha’s parents flaunt the law where they can, only encourage strictness when it comes to protecting oneself, but let Natasha grow.They have joked more than once that maybe they were switched at birth. They fit each other’s jigsaw pieces. Their rough edges match, forming a softness only they understand. They don’t really talk much, but honestly they don’t need to.

Talbott kind of influenced a shift in Natasha though. With him, not only did she awaken her animagus form, but it helped her reconcile a lot of her internal struggles with being in Slytherin, and who she should be as a person to her parents (especially so, when her form was that of a great eagle, which honestly broke her heart a lot more than she let on). Whilst they didn’t really solidify a friendship until later in their education, Natasha treasures Talbott. There might’ve always been a sneaking suspicion, of her telling herself to leap, but she doesn’t. Not that it stops them from being friends. Natasha made sure to friend Talbott hard.

And as for Charlie… it took a lot for them to get to a point, where they finally understood each other, and there wasn’t anymore confusion and stalled conversations and awkwardness. It took them breaking up more than once, going months without speaking, then spending a whirlwind six months together, but they got there. Charlie is her best friend, confidante, lover. Natasha doesn’t bother working out the math, of how they got from point a to point b, because it would be difficult to map out, let alone make people understand. Both her and Charlie are open, just as much as they are closed. Private people, who also crave a certain sort of company. And having to go from close quarter living, to their own spaces, letting themselves breathe, really helped. Might’ve helped them get level headed about what was actually happening, and how their lives crossed over.

#eldritchscreech #*replies #hphm #hogwarts mystery #jacob's sibling #*natasha #THIS GOT LONG LMFAO #SRY I GOT WORDY AND I MISSED THINGS BUT #YKNOW #WHATEVER #I'm very thankful for the opportunity THANK YOU #also can i just raise my hand and say #talbott..... boy i die #I'm too stuck on natasha to make a new mc #just bc it would be copy paste with a different name #but BOY I DIE

4 notes · View notes