[Ah, so it is voice then. He'll get the hang of this thing one day.]
I was. Burns can be a profound injury, and my connection to the Fade is... still recovering. [It's weak, he means. He is weak] A night of good sleep has done much good, and Lavellan is dosing me with unpleasant teas to ensure my recovery.
[He doesn't want to be drugged into having a good sleep schedule, not really, but then he fell in love with a professional poisoner and now the pharmacy no longer requests he take his medicine, it insists. And follows him from room to room about it, batting her eyelashes, if he defers.]
But I am awake enough to check in on the worst that came under my hands. I may be no professional healer, but I would not wish to do poor work. There is no scarring, or stiffness?
[Barcus still isn't entirely sure what is meant by the Fade, but it sounds like a question that can be addressed later.] If you like mushroom soup, I can always offer that to offset the unpleasant teas.
[He's been resting too, mostly. But a gnome has to eat.] This is very conscientious of you, you know. I'm fine, and if I weren't I'm sure I could find someone to complain to while you recover.
There's no stiffness. You can sort of see the line where the older skin ends and your work begins, but I wouldn't call that scarring, and anyway it will probably normalize once I'm able to get back to work.
[Listen, after the conversations he's had of late with Gadriel, he's fully prepared to hear about all sorts of weird cultural tenets. Maybe soup is only for baby elves where Solas is from, he doesn't know!
But he is secretly entertained by the brief fluster he seems to have earned here. He likes Solas but some peoples' dignity is so pristine it needs to be tested, like the surface of a blank white page.]
I'll put some in a jar and have it sent to you. [Is he grinning? Nevermind that.]
The Weave is the common understanding of how magic may be made accessible, in my world. The energies themselves are wild, elements, but the Weave is the method by which their patterns can be understood. As if magic were pure sound, and the Weave is the scale by which a composer can filter noise into music.
It's understood as both the creation of the goddess Mystra and an aspect of the goddess Herself. I am...not a follower, not do I wish to be. [Not after what she did to Gale.] But sometimes one has to pay credit where it's due, where the divine is concerned.
It's not the only way to interact with magic in Faerun, but it's one of the most common, and trusted.
Edited (Hit enter too soon ) Date: 2025-01-17 01:52 pm (UTC)
[Oh that's the game is it? And yet somehow, it's more charming than offensive. Well played, Barcus Wroot, that was a fair point won in your favor.]
But the energies of magic are not— not moderated, by this process? It is merely a method, and not the rule? [How like and unlike his own world. And yet, it has an appeal. Maybe, once the veil is gone, a similar system can be— ah, but he is getting ahead of himself.] That is... fascinating.
[You cannot escape his platonic affection, Solas. There are few who can, and they're all really bad people. Soup and gentle harassment are par for the course here.]
I'm not sure what you mean by 'moderated'. Raw magic exists on my world, nearly everywhere, but it's almost impossible for a mortal to use it, and when people try, the results are sometimes unpredictable and even lethal.
There are places on Faerun where the Weave is inaccessible due to damage. Dead-magic zones. It's my understanding that even in those places the raw energy still exists, it's just untouchable. I'm more of a practical user than a theorist or historian, I'm afraid. A good wizard could tell you more.
Well...Anthem, the tiefling, is a wizard, and she's from Faerûn. I'm sure she has a far better grasp on theory than I do. You could try Halsin, too, I suppose. He's a druid, not a wizard, but he'd have a good general knowledge, I think.
[How long do they live is an odd question, and Barcus can't read much emotion in Solas' voice.] A little longer than gnomes. Something like seven hundred or eight hundred years, on average.
That's a strange question, Solas. What brought that on?
[He is quiet, thinking. Seven or eight hundred years? Why that long and no longer? Or is it merely causality that does it, the inevitable statistics of surviving in a world with many dangers?
Even so, it is so much more time. The words stick in his throat, unable to be expressed. It is so much more.]
An elf from Thedas would consider themselves very fortunate indeed to survive to see eighty years— most do not achieve even fifty. In a population of thousands there will be not more than one or two who can wield magic, of any kind. [If he sounds sad, it's because he is. But it is a hollow, removed sort of sadness. As if he cannot quite permit himself to speak of it with passion, lest he become incapable of speaking at all.] They are trapped, walled away from the magical world by a barrier. A veil. Only those fortunate enough to be born capable of piercing it can access the energies of the Fade.
[There is a slight pause— Solas shakes his head, and his chuckle is small, dry, and bitter.]
The Dalish tell tales of an ancient empire of elves, when once our people lived long lives, and had great power. But that is myth and legend.
[Oh. Oh. Even with the calm resignation in Solas' voice, Barcus is struck by the sorrow inherent in his wording alone. And maybe if he were a human, or a tiefling, one of the races from his world who live a century or so and find it to be quite enough, he wouldn't be so quick to feel horror and compassion. A lifespan is, after all, not really a guarantee. The universe is a violent place.
Still. He's looking ahead at more than four hundred years of life for himself, unless he dies violently, and in comparison, eighty years seems like so little.]
What exactly is the Fade? [Not the same as the Weave, clearly. Solas makes it sound as if all magical energies are sealed away, as opposed to running wild as they do in Faerun, and for all that he's struck by empathy, Barcus can't help but find the contrast fascinating.]
In exploring and manipulating the Fade is where the majority of my own magical capability lies. It is the realm of magic, of spirits, and of dreams. It is a mutable place of raw power, and emotion. When something happens in the physical world, it is often mirrored there, and remembered, particularly if it was an event of significant emotion. When a mind sleeps, it goes into the Fade, and what the mind remembers, or imagines, shapes the Fade to match. That is what dreams are, fundamentally.
All minds touch the Fade in some capacity, unless they have been severed from it. And those that have been so severed... [He hesitates, mastering himself.] ...to be made Tranquil is a fate worse than death. In a way it is a living death.
I have always felt certain that the Veil is reason for the short lives of elves. So, you may imagine my horror to arrive here, and find myself cut off from the Fade almost entirely.
[It sounds a little like the feywild, which follows, really, based on what Barcus knows of the origins of elfkind in his own universe.]
Elves don't require sleep in Faerun. [He says, as if this might be another piece of a puzzle. Parallels between two worlds that almost, but don't quite, match up.] They go into a meditative state instead, usually for only a few hours a night. Unless they're very ill or injured.
[Gods. The way Solas says that, it sounds terrifying. Like having part of your own mind walled off and inaccessible.]
I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must feel like.
That makes it even more remarkable what you were able to do. I know I'm not the only one you were able to heal.
I was... in some distress, that day. Without Lavellan there to steady me, I am not sure what I would have done.
[Probably nothing different, but maybe something very, very stupid, with Rook's right hook as added motivation towards foolishness. But then, that had never come to pass: he had Beleth to thank, for that.]
The masters of this place have made it clear; they will strip away the parts of myself that they deem fit to do so, and return them only in exchange for favors rendered. We did not hesitate to put ourselves to work.
Though, in your case, I would merely have preferred to see your body repaired. As I said: you have been a friend to me, in this place, when I had done little to deserve it. I am grateful to have met you first.
[Barcus is attentive to the emotions of the people he speaks with, the people he's closest to. It never fails to astonish him how widely the attitude towards their situation varies. From Night Sky's easy acceptance based on her own tumultuous history, Ashton's casual determination to take the good in this situation and savor it for all its worth, to Bel's quiet skepticism, to Gadriel's readiness to more or less punch god given the opportunity to get close enough. Solas seems closer to the Sergeant's end of the spectrum--his bitterness is understandable.
Barcus isn't sure where he stands, himself, some days. But today, his heart aches for this man, to a degree that's probably unwise. There are few words as devastating and persuasive to him as friend; said in the right tone at the right moment, it unlocks a willingness to do insane things for people.
This is one of those moments, but luckily there's not much he can do, insane or otherwise, that he hasn't already offered. Soup. Empathy. Information.]
I didn't do much, you know. Just offered what I could. [A glimmer of warm humor in his voice:] Maybe your bar is set too low, my friend.
With the right leverage, a single man could overturn the gods. At our first meeting, it was mentioned that others will tend to underestimate the small.
[One night. One night, and one nightmare, as mortal minds experience them, had been enough to crack Solas nearly in half. The information about the rebreathers, the flares he gifted to Lavellan... Small deeds, for Barcus, but the difference between night and day, for himself.
Not a proud moment, that day. But also not one he can forget.]
Though you may be right. Perhaps we shall endeavor to raise it. I will ask—
I suppose that's true. I just don't think I'm the man to overturn the gods, small or otherwise. [Politely tell them off to their faces, though? That he'd do.
Maybe small kindnesses can be worth more than he knows. Barcus does them because that's just who he prefers to be, and the idea that they could mean so much is humbling and flattering all at once. Slightly flustered, he's happy to change the subject.]
Tieflings are humanoid beings, usually about the same size as humans or half-elves, but they also have horns, and tails, and their skin comes in colors like deep red or ochre or shades of violet. A lot of the time they have glowing eyes, as well. They're distantly descended from the archdevils of the Nine Hells, and so they're often feared and mistreated in Faerun.
I used to find them unsettling, myself, although I've always tried to be polite. It's not as if anyone can help who their ancestors were. The more you talk to them, the more you see they're just people. Anthem and her...husband? I think? His name is Zevlor. Are the only two I know of here. I don't know him well, but I've quested with her.
A little bit cavalier with a fireball, but otherwise I like her.
I've noticed that. Close enough to reference one another, but with vastly different problems to face.
The same is true of Exandria, where Ashton comes from. I've wondered if the faction leaders are bringing people from worlds that bear similarities to this one. A lot of the plant life, fauna, monsters, are similar to creatures I could have run across back home. Maybe there's something else similar, on a magical or spiritual level, that I can't see.
I don't know Anthem well but I think if you approach her on an intellectual level, she'll be willing to talk with you.
[Varterral are awful. Of all the hideous crimes against nature and good sense that Ghilan'nain ever made, they are his least favorite.]
An interesting theory. As my connection to the Fade continues to reestablish itself, I may become more capable of observing such differences. Shall I take notes?
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timeasmymeasure
@DreadWolf | Much later, after the event
Date: 2025-01-16 05:22 am (UTC)voice, @brilliantretort
Date: 2025-01-16 02:49 pm (UTC)I'm fine. Knee is slightly stiff still, but the pain is gone, and my hands are as good as new. You do remarkable work.
How are you holding up? You looked like you were wearing yourself thin back there.
voice
Date: 2025-01-16 06:27 pm (UTC)I was. Burns can be a profound injury, and my connection to the Fade is... still recovering. [It's weak, he means. He is weak] A night of good sleep has done much good, and Lavellan is dosing me with unpleasant teas to ensure my recovery.
[He doesn't want to be drugged into having a good sleep schedule, not really, but then he fell in love with a professional poisoner and now the pharmacy no longer requests he take his medicine, it insists. And follows him from room to room about it, batting her eyelashes, if he defers.]
But I am awake enough to check in on the worst that came under my hands. I may be no professional healer, but I would not wish to do poor work. There is no scarring, or stiffness?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-16 11:18 pm (UTC)[He's been resting too, mostly. But a gnome has to eat.] This is very conscientious of you, you know. I'm fine, and if I weren't I'm sure I could find someone to complain to while you recover.
There's no stiffness. You can sort of see the line where the older skin ends and your work begins, but I wouldn't call that scarring, and anyway it will probably normalize once I'm able to get back to work.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-16 11:24 pm (UTC)[He presumes Rook to be at fault for that— but that may be beginning to be unfair.]
Rather than conscientiousness, it may be more accurate to call it pride. Regardless, I am glad to hear your recovery is going apace, my friend.
Another question, if you have time?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-17 01:31 am (UTC)I have nothing but time today, as I'm still pacing myself, at various friends' request. What's on your mind?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-17 01:37 am (UTC)Not the—
[There is a significant pause in which Solas is forced to swallow a portion of his embarrassment and pride. It takes a bit longer than is dignified.]
...If you are willing to share, it would be my pleasure. Your offer of food is. Kind. Thank you. I am sure Lavellan would agree.
[He doesn't want to be gracious he wants to be right. Unfortunately, he isn't either of those things.]
I wanted to ask about something else you mentioned. Can you explain the "Weave"?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-17 01:50 pm (UTC)But he is secretly entertained by the brief fluster he seems to have earned here. He likes Solas but some peoples' dignity is so pristine it needs to be tested, like the surface of a blank white page.]
I'll put some in a jar and have it sent to you. [Is he grinning? Nevermind that.]
The Weave is the common understanding of how magic may be made accessible, in my world. The energies themselves are wild, elements, but the Weave is the method by which their patterns can be understood. As if magic were pure sound, and the Weave is the scale by which a composer can filter noise into music.
It's understood as both the creation of the goddess Mystra and an aspect of the goddess Herself. I am...not a follower, not do I wish to be. [Not after what she did to Gale.] But sometimes one has to pay credit where it's due, where the divine is concerned.
It's not the only way to interact with magic in Faerun, but it's one of the most common, and trusted.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-18 09:25 pm (UTC)But the energies of magic are not— not moderated, by this process? It is merely a method, and not the rule? [How like and unlike his own world. And yet, it has an appeal. Maybe, once the veil is gone, a similar system can be— ah, but he is getting ahead of himself.] That is... fascinating.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 05:03 am (UTC)I'm not sure what you mean by 'moderated'. Raw magic exists on my world, nearly everywhere, but it's almost impossible for a mortal to use it, and when people try, the results are sometimes unpredictable and even lethal.
There are places on Faerun where the Weave is inaccessible due to damage. Dead-magic zones. It's my understanding that even in those places the raw energy still exists, it's just untouchable. I'm more of a practical user than a theorist or historian, I'm afraid. A good wizard could tell you more.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 05:15 am (UTC)[He wonders if it is a step too far to ask, but suddenly, he must know. Has to know.]
You have elves in Faerun as well as others, I presume. How long do they live?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 05:30 am (UTC)[How long do they live is an odd question, and Barcus can't read much emotion in Solas' voice.] A little longer than gnomes. Something like seven hundred or eight hundred years, on average.
That's a strange question, Solas. What brought that on?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 05:48 am (UTC)Even so, it is so much more time. The words stick in his throat, unable to be expressed. It is so much more.]
An elf from Thedas would consider themselves very fortunate indeed to survive to see eighty years— most do not achieve even fifty. In a population of thousands there will be not more than one or two who can wield magic, of any kind. [If he sounds sad, it's because he is. But it is a hollow, removed sort of sadness. As if he cannot quite permit himself to speak of it with passion, lest he become incapable of speaking at all.] They are trapped, walled away from the magical world by a barrier. A veil. Only those fortunate enough to be born capable of piercing it can access the energies of the Fade.
[There is a slight pause— Solas shakes his head, and his chuckle is small, dry, and bitter.]
The Dalish tell tales of an ancient empire of elves, when once our people lived long lives, and had great power. But that is myth and legend.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 06:12 am (UTC)Still. He's looking ahead at more than four hundred years of life for himself, unless he dies violently, and in comparison, eighty years seems like so little.]
What exactly is the Fade? [Not the same as the Weave, clearly. Solas makes it sound as if all magical energies are sealed away, as opposed to running wild as they do in Faerun, and for all that he's struck by empathy, Barcus can't help but find the contrast fascinating.]
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 06:22 am (UTC)All minds touch the Fade in some capacity, unless they have been severed from it. And those that have been so severed... [He hesitates, mastering himself.] ...to be made Tranquil is a fate worse than death. In a way it is a living death.
I have always felt certain that the Veil is reason for the short lives of elves. So, you may imagine my horror to arrive here, and find myself cut off from the Fade almost entirely.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 07:06 am (UTC)Elves don't require sleep in Faerun. [He says, as if this might be another piece of a puzzle. Parallels between two worlds that almost, but don't quite, match up.] They go into a meditative state instead, usually for only a few hours a night. Unless they're very ill or injured.
[Gods. The way Solas says that, it sounds terrifying. Like having part of your own mind walled off and inaccessible.]
I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must feel like.
That makes it even more remarkable what you were able to do. I know I'm not the only one you were able to heal.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 07:15 am (UTC)[Probably nothing different, but maybe something very, very stupid, with Rook's right hook as added motivation towards foolishness. But then, that had never come to pass: he had Beleth to thank, for that.]
The masters of this place have made it clear; they will strip away the parts of myself that they deem fit to do so, and return them only in exchange for favors rendered. We did not hesitate to put ourselves to work.
Though, in your case, I would merely have preferred to see your body repaired. As I said: you have been a friend to me, in this place, when I had done little to deserve it. I am grateful to have met you first.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 08:11 am (UTC)Barcus isn't sure where he stands, himself, some days. But today, his heart aches for this man, to a degree that's probably unwise. There are few words as devastating and persuasive to him as friend; said in the right tone at the right moment, it unlocks a willingness to do insane things for people.
This is one of those moments, but luckily there's not much he can do, insane or otherwise, that he hasn't already offered. Soup. Empathy. Information.]
I didn't do much, you know. Just offered what I could. [A glimmer of warm humor in his voice:] Maybe your bar is set too low, my friend.
But I try, and I will continue to try.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 04:58 pm (UTC)[One night. One night, and one nightmare, as mortal minds experience them, had been enough to crack Solas nearly in half. The information about the rebreathers, the flares he gifted to Lavellan... Small deeds, for Barcus, but the difference between night and day, for himself.
Not a proud moment, that day. But also not one he can forget.]
Though you may be right. Perhaps we shall endeavor to raise it. I will ask—
[What had he said. Anthem? Tiefling?]
...What... is a Tiefling?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 05:42 pm (UTC)Maybe small kindnesses can be worth more than he knows. Barcus does them because that's just who he prefers to be, and the idea that they could mean so much is humbling and flattering all at once. Slightly flustered, he's happy to change the subject.]
Tieflings are humanoid beings, usually about the same size as humans or half-elves, but they also have horns, and tails, and their skin comes in colors like deep red or ochre or shades of violet. A lot of the time they have glowing eyes, as well. They're distantly descended from the archdevils of the Nine Hells, and so they're often feared and mistreated in Faerun.
I used to find them unsettling, myself, although I've always tried to be polite. It's not as if anyone can help who their ancestors were. The more you talk to them, the more you see they're just people. Anthem and her...husband? I think? His name is Zevlor. Are the only two I know of here. I don't know him well, but I've quested with her.
A little bit cavalier with a fireball, but otherwise I like her.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 06:19 pm (UTC)[And encouraging too, by turns. Solas is more grateful than ever to have forged a connection with Barcus.]
Thank you, once again. I will endeavor to introduce myself.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 07:49 pm (UTC)The same is true of Exandria, where Ashton comes from. I've wondered if the faction leaders are bringing people from worlds that bear similarities to this one. A lot of the plant life, fauna, monsters, are similar to creatures I could have run across back home. Maybe there's something else similar, on a magical or spiritual level, that I can't see.
I don't know Anthem well but I think if you approach her on an intellectual level, she'll be willing to talk with you.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-19 08:06 pm (UTC)[Varterral are awful. Of all the hideous crimes against nature and good sense that Ghilan'nain ever made, they are his least favorite.]
An interesting theory. As my connection to the Fade continues to reestablish itself, I may become more capable of observing such differences. Shall I take notes?
no subject
Date: 2025-01-21 12:59 am (UTC)They can't be Lolth-cursed, at least, but psychotic half-elf half-spider creatures are things that shouldn't exist no matter how you slice it.
You're asking a gnome if you should take observational notes? Yes, please, take notes and share! I'll do the same.
no subject
Date: 2025-01-21 01:52 am (UTC)That description is closer to a Varterral than is comfortable. Can a drider be killed?
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