The burden of the trip down into the Cwyldheart had been onerous, full of pain, and not as easily washed away as a magic seed's growth and Elidibus' outer facade had made it out to be in the end. But ordeals were borne either similar or worse over the eons by Ascians. Several long, hot baths had helped too.
Nightmares were a sharp retelling of the maddening whispers and hallucinations the flesh-bound Ascian had suffered in the pulsing mass, under the sway of infection. Four months of stable memory and an assured personal identity relive the struggle of a rudderless vessel in the storm which echoed millennia of loss and reshaped drive. A conscious will may have preserved him in waking hours but sleep was another matter entirely. But it had to be done for he had little to none within the week's eternal journey through the rot of the Cwyldheart. So time and again the Bond may have given some hint to the details of the restless nights. Faces met in Aefenglom (and before) fading to obscurity. Struggling to voice a name he knows but seems unable to put into words. Being stripped of a body and remade into a shell of black and white with nothing within but air and darkness.
A fleeting query, who am I, without this office?
The Emissary made an effort not to go to sleep alone. At least not for a bit after his return and he seemed content to relax in the shared building the two Unsundered called home. It would not completely eradicate the terrible dreams but they would have been lessened in proximity to his draconic Bondmate. He would have remarked on finding a mortal to use for a temporary Bond potion with for the journey in the depths. Someone who was not the Warrior of Light or Emet-Selch's mechanical fiance but had some basic idea that 'Ardbert' was something much more than he appeared. A chance encounter which had provided a convenient tool for a journey Lahabrea could not be risked for.
But it had not been the same. It had served, but the Ascian now knew it was keenly different from what he shared with Lahabrea. Whether time or the fact that he considered his fellow Unsundered equal, current circumstances aside, or because of some lingering sense of family deep within his subconsciousness, Elidibus could not personally say. But when the distance between himself and the Speaker had closed and the erratic behavior of Bonds had ceased, there had been a moment in which the Bond with Zack and the one with Lahabrea could be compared. It was clear which was superior. The Emissary had even expressed relief when the last vestiges of the potion had worn off.
Then odd restlessness began to build several days into the new month. There are small clues at first. While Elidibus has managed to consciously impart the various idioms of a mortal 'at rest', he still had a habit of being unnaturally still when not keeping up appearances or being completely focused. Contrary to this was idle tapping of a foot, the shift of weight when seated for long periods and even taking breaks from his research on his own volition. The fidgeting was frowned at and stilled when he became aware of it. Irritation for the most part was expressed but he went on with the routine of the day.
The only time he seemed comfortable was in the pursuit of spellwork. There, the tension and restlessness eased considerably as studies and lessons were turned into practical efforts. Elidibus, often conservative in his use of Aefenglom's magic when it came to his reserves, seemed to be hunting for reasons to engage in some sort of spellwork. Cleaning, mending, imbument. Without other distractions, small scraps of Lahabrea's crafting leftovers not consigned to the hoard- particularly any stone or gem chips- will have been discovered in small piles, usually with the same enchantment cast over and over upon it. A small pile of glittering tiny light 'chips', wood shavings in a small heap and burning with a blue fire that does not spread but generates a small warmth. Larger chunks of polished river rock lined up in a row. Touching any of them would cause a gentle chime to ring out, each a different note in a scale. Anything distinctly Lahbrea's was left alone. Anything else? Pretty fair game.
By the evening of the new moon, the crackle of energy both magic and abstract is palpable in the Emissary's presence. Anything approaching 'calm' and 'still' was a notable struggle for him and he was completely aware of his inability to control himself. As for control of the magic...
There is a small explosion from the rooms upstairs Elidibus calls his own- a deep 'whump' as if the air were displaced dramatically. Whether Lahabrea is there or not is entirely up to the dragon's inclination and prerogative but suffice to say it wasn't a completely worrying level of explosion and much less anything to indicate the Emissary had blown himself up. Smoke, shrapnel, and something akin to burnt ozone would linger in the air and the brown-haired man is prone on the ground some feet from the workstation he'd stood at. Despite the suggestion of 'fire', there is no sign of soot or ember. An amethyst- one of his purchases- and the fittings of silver that might have suggested a pendant lie in a pile of shards and twisted metal on the surface. Surprisingly not scattered like shrapnel about the room. Nearest guess? A loss of control had created something like matching polarities between the Witch's latent pool and whatever energy had once been present in the destroyed pendant.
It had served, some temporary fragile bond with a mortal, and Lahabrea had not made mention of it by deliberate choice. Much could be said of course, some bitter, some not, but necessity was a force all its own, wasn't it? And he would not risk the cwyld. Not when he knew how fast it could take a dragon, and how difficult it would be to bring one down should it go mad. Much could be endured when necessary, and Elidibus was a man grown even by their terms, long since - and more than capable of handling himself when times called for it.
This knowledge did not keep agitation at bay, or lingering deep-set concern that he would have inevitably denied regardless if asked about it. It had not been a pleasant month. The waiting ate at him like little else could, the surity that this place could not truly mark their souls but certainly could inconvenience them only a little consolation against knowing (through the enterprising communication of another deep underground) exactly how high risk it truly was.
And then of course, something like recovery. As biting and acerbic as Lahabrea tended to be, it has been deliberately muted, contending with surges and shocks of foreign emotion and dream as surely and steadily as anything else. Often enough he'd had to rely on the Emissary to maintain even remotely an even keel.. what terrible harm is there in returning the favor? He was not the most comforting, but he could at least be a warm and familiar presence.
These are dreams. Reality, bitter and unwelcome though it is, awaited.
With explosions, apparently.
Not being given to wander about without reason, Lahabrea had for a good part of the day turned his attention to trying, mostly successfully, to work a truly inordinate number of chips of garlic butter and honey beneath the skin of a fat goose, and then arrange it amongst even more chips of butter and honey and cloves of garlic and other spices; he's not near enough to be a distraction but still 'there' nonetheless, if needed, if this strange restlessness broke into something more terrible. Not cwyld, the dragon knew that smell and it had not lingered. But this world had ways of twisting things besides the wyld, and he - far from the ebb and pull of the full moons, as calm and focused as he ever got - glances up at the muffled sound of something exploding, butter-speckled talons pausing their work. He listens, he waits.
There's no surge of agony, no desperate clawing fear or rage. Not yet, not that he can tell. Lahabrea remains where he is for a long few moments, ears perked, until he's certain that isn't about to suddenly change.
Potatos and vegetables are added, then the entire mess slid into the open-hearth oven.
It's only a few minutes, really, before the dragon picks his way delicately to where he knew Elidibus had been working, still drying his hands off on a small towel. He'd learned better, over the course of the last couple of months, how to measure his weight against the floor boards and not leave a constant path of creaking and groaning, but his approach nonetheless is neither completely silent nor even trying to be stealthy.
"Struggling with focus still?"
It's not scorn. The cause of it - the approach of the dark moon - is unknown to him, of course, he's not a witch of this world. But the past events are certainly enough to drive anyone to distraction. "It tastes like resonance, a touch. Are you well?"
By the time Lahabrea enters the room, the witch in question has regained his footing. The dragon arrives just in time to see the dignified Emissary in the middle of a quick hop or two, some squats, and a crane of his neck from side to side. A temporary potion or not, the mess last month's events had made of Bonds had imprinted a few habits upon the witch that he had yet to completely shake. This less... pragmatic way of checking to see if the body is still functioning properly after a knockback being one of them. The Ascian stills out of habit when Lahabrea speaks up. It's not as if he didn't hear the approach and know it for what it was. Who else would be walking upstairs? Certainly not Emet-Selch who could teleport if indeed he was visiting at all.
That would have been... more awkward given what he'd just been doing. The Emissary sighs at the way his thoughts shift as restlessly as his body. He sighs.
'I am fine' is a protest on the tip of Elidibus's tongue. But it's left unspoken since there's little reason to voice a lie and much more to at least give Lahabrea the courtesy of an honest answer. "This body brims with the aether of this star. It seems endless. I reach to weave it into form and function and find there is little rhyme or reason to the flow."
But that is not the issue. Fine control over a power that fluctuates is a problem mortals have. Not ones such as they. And the Bond itself should be making it even easier to control that power; particularly in the matter of enchantment which seems to have been Elidibus's primary focus if one were to consider all the piles of imbued leftovers around the house these days.
Focus is the issue. Which shouldn't be as much of an issue as it obviously is. The borrowed features of the Emissary darken as his thoughts inevitably turn to this. It is... uncomfortable to admit. He begins to approach the desk again. A glance in Lahabrea's direction speaks of an invitation to remain and come closer if desired. Then he waves a hand at the remains of the amulet. "These materials were not strong enough to bear my efforts. When I sought to disperse the unleashed aether, my mind turned instead to thoughts of preservation of my work thus far."
Elidibus definitely sounds very uncomfortable. One might say embarrassed if you could claim the Emissary gets embarrassed.
"...It seems the outcome was to align the enchantment's polarity with what I had gathered to finish the transference. With predictable results." Being knocked back flat on his ass.
And the enchantment.... well, launched off. Somewhere.
Bodies did require some level of maintenance. If Elidibus' were a bit stranger than Lahabrea's preference, well. It's not his form, not his concern. Whatever it took to keep the flesh working in proper order, that was just fine. Some of those moves had a bit of a look of exercise to them, after all!
"Mayhap it would do to vent the excess." He could feel his bondmate's magic levels, fed on them quite literally fairly often, but what it meant from an internal perspective he could only associate with what he knew of the past. Such power was denied him now, of course, but once.. "A suitable pyrotechnics display would likely be enough. Call it an errant celebration for the neighbors to enjoy." All it would do, of course, is waste energy.. but if that was the point? Then all's well, and fine work could be resumed!
He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame that barely allowed him passage these days, a faint jingle of some hidden bit of jewelry following the motion. "I have found amethyst to be a poor focus for certain more restrictive forms of aether, from whence we come. Are you attempting fire, or light? I may have a ruby that would suit the touch of flame a little better, and mayhap a metal more conductive than silver. It would not be as appealing to look at, but mayhap in this case form must follow function."
It's ... none of it particularly judgy, as if not only was this a common ordinary occurrence but outright expected. Maybe it is - this is a foreign world after all, but treating it as if it's normal might well ease that skittering of embarrassment he knows isn't his.
Elidibus might have done a bit more modest stretches normally. But either method is effective. And it sometimes seems to help with the restlessness, these extravagant exertions.
It is with a touch of self-consciousness that the Emissary stills himself and takes a calming breath. Once settled- at least externally- he turns his attention to Lahabrea's insight. While it might chafe him still to be so frivolous and wasteful with his energy in a way that is not, strictly speaking, 'practice, the influence of the two moons is providing its own, stronger impetus. In truth it is a relief- one slightly felt as skittering as embarrassment was before- to have someone else suggest the solution he'd been reluctant to voice. A unified consensus if you will.
"Yes, perhaps that would be best." A brief glance is given to the window. While the sky is darkening it may still be considered early for a fireworks display to be truly effective. A sense of impatience follows the relief. Elidibus absently drums his fingers against the workbench's surface. "...Yes, pyrotechnics. I could enchant colored lights to hand out to any children who attend the display while waiting for night to fall. And it would not be remiss to practice healing if there are those in need. I should send a message to Samuel and Riona. Mayhap they would carry word of the impromptu event."
Reaching down, the witch rights the stool which normally is used to sit at the bench. It had naturally toppled to one side when he had been blown back earlier. Reaching for ink, pen, and paper, he settles down intending to write immediately. Eagerness has a moment to shine in the Bond's spotlight though Elidibus is given pause to shift his attention to the remains of the focus which had been meant to receive the enchantment.
"Ah. No, I was not attempting to imbue the element of Fire. And I have yet to discover a means to invoke Light as we know it." The Emissary seems to consider what to say next. "It is... was an experiment in transmutation. It is possible that rather than not strong enough, mayhap the amethyst and silver itself or the shape I gave it was too rigid a structure for the intended purpose." Certainly, there would be no surprise here; Elidibus's gifts lay in other places than increasing an object's potential through artistry. The written message seems to have been forgotten for a moment while his too easily- relatively speaking- distracted mind is brought to focus on the original spellwork and its inadequate vessel. The Ascian shifts his gaze to Lahabrea and shows some further interest. "Though your offer intrigues me. I can make use of such materials. With appropriate compensation of course. I believe there is merit to using our star's paradigm in certain aspects of spellwork here. If for nothing more than the similarity that our will and mental image give this world's energy form."
...And just as abruptly he seems to change track again, growing suddenly thoughtful. "I shall have to track it down and be certain it does not cause any unfortunate inconvenience." The spell, that is. Generally, it would not matter if it inconvenienced someone beyond his peers and fellow Ascians. But there is an image to maintain. And perhaps a sense of ingrained responsibility.
"If it is too early for fire, there are other things to weave. Illusion does as well." It's.. certainly unusual, there's no doubt about that, how Elidibus is behaving.
Lahabrea doesn't intend to address it until he knows the actual cause. This world? The recent trip underground and its horrors and problems? Was it something that even needed addressing? "...Though I do not think invitations need to go out when the plan is 'in a few minutes'. Or notifications. I am going to kill any visitors who suddenly turn up."
Is he, really?
It's Lahabrea, and a dragon besides, it might not be any idle threat at all. He did value his privacy, and visitors were utterly forbidden.
More importantly, this utter lack of focus. It could be stress related. It could be the overflow of foreign aether, which even as a monster he can't siphon off quite fast enough to do anything about. It could be any combination of things. "Spells gone awry tend to not roam about looking for trouble to get into, Elidibus." This time his tone is a touch, just a touch impatient. "Do you hear screaming and panic? Shouts of anger?"
He pauses as if to listen, himself, ears perked. "Nay. Your spell does not need to be 'tracked down'."
Illusions, yes. Illusions patterned on barriers. Mayhap a barrier which can project the night sky...
With a bit of a struggle, Elidibus reins in his thoughts and focuses on Lahabrea's warning. Truly meant or not it was wise to consider it had some grain of truth. "Of course I had considered suggesting the venue be elsewhere. I do not wish to compromise the privacy we are afforded." Invitations though. That word causes the Emissary to look down at the nearly forgotten paper with a few words gracefully scribed out in the local language. Pen and ink are returned to their place and the paper itself is tucked into a pile of 'used' sheets, likely to be used as scrap for quick notations another time.
Standing up- because really was it to be expected that he remain still for very long in his condition?- the Ascian focuses on the dragon with a slight frown marring borrowed features. "I am aware the spell has no intelligence of its own. But as it was a transmutation spell..."
Well, it's true. There aren't any screams. And he could track it down later to see if there's someone he needs to return to their natural form. Rather than the tedium of hunting one spell down, it was much more appealing to get rid of the excess energy. A spark of impatience that doesn't come from him catches his attention.
Wait, when did he need to compare impatience he has with what another has? There's something... off about that thought isn't there? Elidibus frowns to himself. His expression shifts accordingly and suggests he's becoming a little more aware of his condition. Perhaps.
"I should begin to excise this energy. A pity it cannot be easily stored. I suppose I should look into developing something of that nature with this star's magitech. I plan to teleport to the yard. Do you wish to join me?" He's already beginning to lay the groundwork for the spell. Of late Elidibus has had to use less chanting, though soon enough there will be some phrases involved if only to make certain he and a potential passenger do not end up somewhere awkward.
Lahabrea continues to observe, stretching out the senses afforded him through virtue of being a monster; he could detect magic easier than a witch could, he knew that, but doing anything with it was ... harder. "There has been talk of the newcomers on that ship having methods of handling this world's magic beyond Aefenglom's understanding. Mayhap it would be worth investigating." It might have those selfsame methods of storing power!
But he didn't know of any other means to. Even familiars simply recycled the power, as monsters did. He didn't know how to increase his draw on Elidibus' magic either, was that something any monster could do deliberately?
"..No. I'll take the window." He's not risking a teleportation spell while Elidibus is so obviously unable to focus on anything for longer than a minute or two. But apparently he really does mean to jump out the window by the way he leaves the doorway, heading across the room with a languid flick of long, feathered tail. His form contracts, reshaping itself into the quadrupedal form he'd had briefly in the dream, save well under that size. But for length, larger dog breeds could outsize him, but he actually has his wings and can still fit out a window; hands are clever enough to undo the latch and open the thing without any issues.
The change of shape isn't required, but he knows that not being in the humanoid 'default' did increase the pull of magic a little. Any bit would help, surely, and his whiskers were more sensitive to the changes in aether than anything he enjoyed in bipedal form. "Pray bring bandages in case something else explodes."
Only the magic which Elidibus is gathering seems to be present, as well as the familiar sense of various enchantments, either purchased or personally wrought by the Ascian turned witch. No new transformation enchantment lingering in the vicinity; it has either dispersed without a target or gone to trouble someone else.
As unable to keep focused on one topic overlong in conversation as the Emissary appears to be, the very act of pulling together the spell and allowing the brimming power flow into the pattern woven is well executed. Even focused. "Hmm. I hear such tales. And yes," a glance is flicked toward the window briefly and then Lahabrea. "I plan to look into the matter. I will see you below."
Already some lucidity settles just in the act of discharging power. So long as nothing untoward happens like a sudden surge, he should keep a clean control on the spell for such a short distance to a familiar yard. And though Lahabrea's suggestion to bring bandages does not fall on deaf ears, Elidibus has learned his lesson of trying to abort or shift the willful flow of this Star's aether today thank you very much. Also, why stop and reach for bandages when he has power for days and can just conjure some up?
Sure they might be temporary but it'll last an application. In any case...
*pop*
.
.
.
*pop* Enjoy hearing it both times. Elidibus still hasn't fixed that sound. It's possible he still isn't aware of it.
The effect of the teleportation is not as abrupt, bearing with it the trademarks of familiar tendrils of black and purple though only in appearance. Only a small stumble indicates the landing isn't perfect; a glance out the window in following the dragon's transformation and movement had put a hint of altitude which results in the same sensation of missing that final step before a landing.
Let's pretend that didn't happen.
The Emissary will arrive about the same time or a little after Lahabrea lands, but it was a time-saver in comparison to taking a more mundane route through the house to get to this point. His gaze pans around the yard, already seeking to assess what... to... do.
Here, Elidibus falters. Fireworks, yes. Night will be soon. Until then a barrier to display... something, certainly. But what? Certainly not a fiery rain in the sky. Nor buildings of Amaurot- under a sky of blue as that sketch he has framed in his room. How long has it been since he's used magic to cause a display for pure enjoyment? It seemed too easy to think of options earlier but now where to start? Through the Bond, this hesitancy can be detected, though by outward appearances Elidibus has once again begun a spell's construct. Framework to turn into a barrier which would act as a safety net for any wayward spells. It would hardly do to let out-of-control magic under the new moon burn down half the neighborhood or worse, after all.
There is a bit of a delay as a message is tapped out with a claw on his communicator, and a response gotten, before he hears the pops of teleportation (which draws a surge of what feels suspiciously like amusement down the tether of their bond; it's a sound he's not going to get tired of) and chooses to get on with it. His landing is a fair bit neater, he's been practicing ever since the first disastrous attempt left him with his horns buried in the ground and unable to easily right himself thusly pinned.
Happily the neighbors hadn't seen such humiliations.
Not a word is said about any stumbles or mishaps, though his whiskers are forward, testing the air for stray unstable magic.
"Why not begin with simple geometries? It'll draw attention, and mayhap offer you a little focus. Getting a square of fire can be a bit of a challenge." For first year students, but that's where Elidibus' concentration is right now, and Lahabrea himself is clear minded to work on gentle encouragement instead of blatantly pushing or harassing.
It's a choice, and a deliberate one. How often had Elidibus gone out of his way to soothe volatile dragonish instincts? Risked lightning and fang and claw to settle frayed nerves and fragile temper? He can do nothing else but offer reciprocation, and what Elidibus seemed to need was stability and a little bit of guidance. He can do that, for a member of his flight..
There is a little bit of excess energy in the air that might interact poorly with spells cast too soon. Fortunately the barrier building does not appear to be one of them, perhaps because of its intended nature.
Fireworks might be another matter entirely. Perhaps the slight hesitance is in their favor after all.
It's not as if Elidibus did not feel the amusement. So Lahabrea might be greeted with a somewhat pointed regard when he finally lands. From his perspective it could have been the stumble. Certainly he does not 'pop'!
Well at least the Emissary is easily distractable. Namely when presented with a challenge. There's definitely a mix of emotion with what is presented. A little exasperation- An elementary exercise? Introspection- It could be useful with this new system of magic he is forced to master. Excitement- How could he make it a BETTER display with all this power at his disposal?
The last part will be particularly troubling if it happens to contact or draw those lingering traces of energy in the air.
"Very well," Elidibus professes with an outward calm that is not at all in keeping with the brimming energy and interest underneath. The barrier is complete - and surprisingly efficient as the Ascian had enough of a sense of responsibility to be sure it was a solid construct; permeable for people to walk through but not for stray energies.
The first step in any process is to form the fabric which will be worked with. And thus he begins to conjure the element of fire. Once again as the energies flow out of him and into the spell involved there is an easing of the restlessness in a sense, though out in the growing night and under the direct influence of the rising new moons, there is plenty and more to replace it.
Combustion is creature and fire burns before him without fuel. Warm, flickering and restless as all fire naturally is though at this time it is floating a half a foot away. It is not yet shaped or moved, for he's soon to start conjuring another.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-05-16 12:44 am (UTC)Nightmares were a sharp retelling of the maddening whispers and hallucinations the flesh-bound Ascian had suffered in the pulsing mass, under the sway of infection. Four months of stable memory and an assured personal identity relive the struggle of a rudderless vessel in the storm which echoed millennia of loss and reshaped drive. A conscious will may have preserved him in waking hours but sleep was another matter entirely. But it had to be done for he had little to none within the week's eternal journey through the rot of the Cwyldheart. So time and again the Bond may have given some hint to the details of the restless nights. Faces met in Aefenglom (and before) fading to obscurity. Struggling to voice a name he knows but seems unable to put into words. Being stripped of a body and remade into a shell of black and white with nothing within but air and darkness.
A fleeting query, who am I, without this office?
The Emissary made an effort not to go to sleep alone. At least not for a bit after his return and he seemed content to relax in the shared building the two Unsundered called home. It would not completely eradicate the terrible dreams but they would have been lessened in proximity to his draconic Bondmate. He would have remarked on finding a mortal to use for a temporary Bond potion with for the journey in the depths. Someone who was not the Warrior of Light or Emet-Selch's mechanical fiance but had some basic idea that 'Ardbert' was something much more than he appeared. A chance encounter which had provided a convenient tool for a journey Lahabrea could not be risked for.
But it had not been the same. It had served, but the Ascian now knew it was keenly different from what he shared with Lahabrea. Whether time or the fact that he considered his fellow Unsundered equal, current circumstances aside, or because of some lingering sense of family deep within his subconsciousness, Elidibus could not personally say. But when the distance between himself and the Speaker had closed and the erratic behavior of Bonds had ceased, there had been a moment in which the Bond with Zack and the one with Lahabrea could be compared. It was clear which was superior. The Emissary had even expressed relief when the last vestiges of the potion had worn off.
Then odd restlessness began to build several days into the new month. There are small clues at first. While Elidibus has managed to consciously impart the various idioms of a mortal 'at rest', he still had a habit of being unnaturally still when not keeping up appearances or being completely focused. Contrary to this was idle tapping of a foot, the shift of weight when seated for long periods and even taking breaks from his research on his own volition. The fidgeting was frowned at and stilled when he became aware of it. Irritation for the most part was expressed but he went on with the routine of the day.
The only time he seemed comfortable was in the pursuit of spellwork. There, the tension and restlessness eased considerably as studies and lessons were turned into practical efforts. Elidibus, often conservative in his use of Aefenglom's magic when it came to his reserves, seemed to be hunting for reasons to engage in some sort of spellwork. Cleaning, mending, imbument. Without other distractions, small scraps of Lahabrea's crafting leftovers not consigned to the hoard- particularly any stone or gem chips- will have been discovered in small piles, usually with the same enchantment cast over and over upon it. A small pile of glittering tiny light 'chips', wood shavings in a small heap and burning with a blue fire that does not spread but generates a small warmth. Larger chunks of polished river rock lined up in a row. Touching any of them would cause a gentle chime to ring out, each a different note in a scale. Anything distinctly Lahbrea's was left alone. Anything else? Pretty fair game.
By the evening of the new moon, the crackle of energy both magic and abstract is palpable in the Emissary's presence. Anything approaching 'calm' and 'still' was a notable struggle for him and he was completely aware of his inability to control himself. As for control of the magic...
There is a small explosion from the rooms upstairs Elidibus calls his own- a deep 'whump' as if the air were displaced dramatically. Whether Lahabrea is there or not is entirely up to the dragon's inclination and prerogative but suffice to say it wasn't a completely worrying level of explosion and much less anything to indicate the Emissary had blown himself up. Smoke, shrapnel, and something akin to burnt ozone would linger in the air and the brown-haired man is prone on the ground some feet from the workstation he'd stood at. Despite the suggestion of 'fire', there is no sign of soot or ember. An amethyst- one of his purchases- and the fittings of silver that might have suggested a pendant lie in a pile of shards and twisted metal on the surface. Surprisingly not scattered like shrapnel about the room. Nearest guess? A loss of control had created something like matching polarities between the Witch's latent pool and whatever energy had once been present in the destroyed pendant.
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Date: 2021-05-16 01:10 am (UTC)This knowledge did not keep agitation at bay, or lingering deep-set concern that he would have inevitably denied regardless if asked about it. It had not been a pleasant month. The waiting ate at him like little else could, the surity that this place could not truly mark their souls but certainly could inconvenience them only a little consolation against knowing (through the enterprising communication of another deep underground) exactly how high risk it truly was.
And then of course, something like recovery. As biting and acerbic as Lahabrea tended to be, it has been deliberately muted, contending with surges and shocks of foreign emotion and dream as surely and steadily as anything else. Often enough he'd had to rely on the Emissary to maintain even remotely an even keel.. what terrible harm is there in returning the favor? He was not the most comforting, but he could at least be a warm and familiar presence.
These are dreams. Reality, bitter and unwelcome though it is, awaited.
With explosions, apparently.
Not being given to wander about without reason, Lahabrea had for a good part of the day turned his attention to trying, mostly successfully, to work a truly inordinate number of chips of garlic butter and honey beneath the skin of a fat goose, and then arrange it amongst even more chips of butter and honey and cloves of garlic and other spices; he's not near enough to be a distraction but still 'there' nonetheless, if needed, if this strange restlessness broke into something more terrible. Not cwyld, the dragon knew that smell and it had not lingered. But this world had ways of twisting things besides the wyld, and he - far from the ebb and pull of the full moons, as calm and focused as he ever got - glances up at the muffled sound of something exploding, butter-speckled talons pausing their work. He listens, he waits.
There's no surge of agony, no desperate clawing fear or rage. Not yet, not that he can tell. Lahabrea remains where he is for a long few moments, ears perked, until he's certain that isn't about to suddenly change.
Potatos and vegetables are added, then the entire mess slid into the open-hearth oven.
It's only a few minutes, really, before the dragon picks his way delicately to where he knew Elidibus had been working, still drying his hands off on a small towel. He'd learned better, over the course of the last couple of months, how to measure his weight against the floor boards and not leave a constant path of creaking and groaning, but his approach nonetheless is neither completely silent nor even trying to be stealthy.
"Struggling with focus still?"
It's not scorn. The cause of it - the approach of the dark moon - is unknown to him, of course, he's not a witch of this world. But the past events are certainly enough to drive anyone to distraction. "It tastes like resonance, a touch. Are you well?"
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Date: 2021-05-16 04:59 pm (UTC)That would have been... more awkward given what he'd just been doing. The Emissary sighs at the way his thoughts shift as restlessly as his body. He sighs.
'I am fine' is a protest on the tip of Elidibus's tongue. But it's left unspoken since there's little reason to voice a lie and much more to at least give Lahabrea the courtesy of an honest answer. "This body brims with the aether of this star. It seems endless. I reach to weave it into form and function and find there is little rhyme or reason to the flow."
But that is not the issue. Fine control over a power that fluctuates is a problem mortals have. Not ones such as they. And the Bond itself should be making it even easier to control that power; particularly in the matter of enchantment which seems to have been Elidibus's primary focus if one were to consider all the piles of imbued leftovers around the house these days.
Focus is the issue. Which shouldn't be as much of an issue as it obviously is. The borrowed features of the Emissary darken as his thoughts inevitably turn to this. It is... uncomfortable to admit. He begins to approach the desk again. A glance in Lahabrea's direction speaks of an invitation to remain and come closer if desired. Then he waves a hand at the remains of the amulet. "These materials were not strong enough to bear my efforts. When I sought to disperse the unleashed aether, my mind turned instead to thoughts of preservation of my work thus far."
Elidibus definitely sounds very uncomfortable. One might say embarrassed if you could claim the Emissary gets embarrassed.
"...It seems the outcome was to align the enchantment's polarity with what I had gathered to finish the transference. With predictable results." Being knocked back flat on his ass.
And the enchantment.... well, launched off. Somewhere.
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Date: 2021-05-16 07:04 pm (UTC)"Mayhap it would do to vent the excess." He could feel his bondmate's magic levels, fed on them quite literally fairly often, but what it meant from an internal perspective he could only associate with what he knew of the past. Such power was denied him now, of course, but once.. "A suitable pyrotechnics display would likely be enough. Call it an errant celebration for the neighbors to enjoy." All it would do, of course, is waste energy.. but if that was the point? Then all's well, and fine work could be resumed!
He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame that barely allowed him passage these days, a faint jingle of some hidden bit of jewelry following the motion. "I have found amethyst to be a poor focus for certain more restrictive forms of aether, from whence we come. Are you attempting fire, or light? I may have a ruby that would suit the touch of flame a little better, and mayhap a metal more conductive than silver. It would not be as appealing to look at, but mayhap in this case form must follow function."
It's ... none of it particularly judgy, as if not only was this a common ordinary occurrence but outright expected. Maybe it is - this is a foreign world after all, but treating it as if it's normal might well ease that skittering of embarrassment he knows isn't his.
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Date: 2021-05-16 11:20 pm (UTC)It is with a touch of self-consciousness that the Emissary stills himself and takes a calming breath. Once settled- at least externally- he turns his attention to Lahabrea's insight. While it might chafe him still to be so frivolous and wasteful with his energy in a way that is not, strictly speaking, 'practice, the influence of the two moons is providing its own, stronger impetus. In truth it is a relief- one slightly felt as skittering as embarrassment was before- to have someone else suggest the solution he'd been reluctant to voice. A unified consensus if you will.
"Yes, perhaps that would be best." A brief glance is given to the window. While the sky is darkening it may still be considered early for a fireworks display to be truly effective. A sense of impatience follows the relief. Elidibus absently drums his fingers against the workbench's surface. "...Yes, pyrotechnics. I could enchant colored lights to hand out to any children who attend the display while waiting for night to fall. And it would not be remiss to practice healing if there are those in need. I should send a message to Samuel and Riona. Mayhap they would carry word of the impromptu event."
Reaching down, the witch rights the stool which normally is used to sit at the bench. It had naturally toppled to one side when he had been blown back earlier. Reaching for ink, pen, and paper, he settles down intending to write immediately. Eagerness has a moment to shine in the Bond's spotlight though Elidibus is given pause to shift his attention to the remains of the focus which had been meant to receive the enchantment.
"Ah. No, I was not attempting to imbue the element of Fire. And I have yet to discover a means to invoke Light as we know it." The Emissary seems to consider what to say next. "It is... was an experiment in transmutation. It is possible that rather than not strong enough, mayhap the amethyst and silver itself or the shape I gave it was too rigid a structure for the intended purpose." Certainly, there would be no surprise here; Elidibus's gifts lay in other places than increasing an object's potential through artistry. The written message seems to have been forgotten for a moment while his too easily- relatively speaking- distracted mind is brought to focus on the original spellwork and its inadequate vessel. The Ascian shifts his gaze to Lahabrea and shows some further interest. "Though your offer intrigues me. I can make use of such materials. With appropriate compensation of course. I believe there is merit to using our star's paradigm in certain aspects of spellwork here. If for nothing more than the similarity that our will and mental image give this world's energy form."
...And just as abruptly he seems to change track again, growing suddenly thoughtful. "I shall have to track it down and be certain it does not cause any unfortunate inconvenience." The spell, that is. Generally, it would not matter if it inconvenienced someone beyond his peers and fellow Ascians. But there is an image to maintain. And perhaps a sense of ingrained responsibility.
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Date: 2021-05-17 12:53 pm (UTC)Lahabrea doesn't intend to address it until he knows the actual cause. This world? The recent trip underground and its horrors and problems? Was it something that even needed addressing? "...Though I do not think invitations need to go out when the plan is 'in a few minutes'. Or notifications. I am going to kill any visitors who suddenly turn up."
Is he, really?
It's Lahabrea, and a dragon besides, it might not be any idle threat at all. He did value his privacy, and visitors were utterly forbidden.
More importantly, this utter lack of focus. It could be stress related. It could be the overflow of foreign aether, which even as a monster he can't siphon off quite fast enough to do anything about. It could be any combination of things. "Spells gone awry tend to not roam about looking for trouble to get into, Elidibus." This time his tone is a touch, just a touch impatient. "Do you hear screaming and panic? Shouts of anger?"
He pauses as if to listen, himself, ears perked. "Nay. Your spell does not need to be 'tracked down'."
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Date: 2021-05-18 01:18 am (UTC)With a bit of a struggle, Elidibus reins in his thoughts and focuses on Lahabrea's warning. Truly meant or not it was wise to consider it had some grain of truth. "Of course I had considered suggesting the venue be elsewhere. I do not wish to compromise the privacy we are afforded." Invitations though. That word causes the Emissary to look down at the nearly forgotten paper with a few words gracefully scribed out in the local language. Pen and ink are returned to their place and the paper itself is tucked into a pile of 'used' sheets, likely to be used as scrap for quick notations another time.
Standing up- because really was it to be expected that he remain still for very long in his condition?- the Ascian focuses on the dragon with a slight frown marring borrowed features. "I am aware the spell has no intelligence of its own. But as it was a transmutation spell..."
Well, it's true. There aren't any screams. And he could track it down later to see if there's someone he needs to return to their natural form. Rather than the tedium of hunting one spell down, it was much more appealing to get rid of the excess energy. A spark of impatience that doesn't come from him catches his attention.
Wait, when did he need to compare impatience he has with what another has? There's something... off about that thought isn't there? Elidibus frowns to himself. His expression shifts accordingly and suggests he's becoming a little more aware of his condition. Perhaps.
"I should begin to excise this energy. A pity it cannot be easily stored. I suppose I should look into developing something of that nature with this star's magitech. I plan to teleport to the yard. Do you wish to join me?" He's already beginning to lay the groundwork for the spell. Of late Elidibus has had to use less chanting, though soon enough there will be some phrases involved if only to make certain he and a potential passenger do not end up somewhere awkward.
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Date: 2021-05-21 07:36 pm (UTC)But he didn't know of any other means to. Even familiars simply recycled the power, as monsters did. He didn't know how to increase his draw on Elidibus' magic either, was that something any monster could do deliberately?
"..No. I'll take the window." He's not risking a teleportation spell while Elidibus is so obviously unable to focus on anything for longer than a minute or two. But apparently he really does mean to jump out the window by the way he leaves the doorway, heading across the room with a languid flick of long, feathered tail. His form contracts, reshaping itself into the quadrupedal form he'd had briefly in the dream, save well under that size. But for length, larger dog breeds could outsize him, but he actually has his wings and can still fit out a window; hands are clever enough to undo the latch and open the thing without any issues.
The change of shape isn't required, but he knows that not being in the humanoid 'default' did increase the pull of magic a little. Any bit would help, surely, and his whiskers were more sensitive to the changes in aether than anything he enjoyed in bipedal form. "Pray bring bandages in case something else explodes."
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Date: 2021-05-27 06:12 pm (UTC)As unable to keep focused on one topic overlong in conversation as the Emissary appears to be, the very act of pulling together the spell and allowing the brimming power flow into the pattern woven is well executed. Even focused. "Hmm. I hear such tales. And yes," a glance is flicked toward the window briefly and then Lahabrea. "I plan to look into the matter. I will see you below."
Already some lucidity settles just in the act of discharging power. So long as nothing untoward happens like a sudden surge, he should keep a clean control on the spell for such a short distance to a familiar yard. And though Lahabrea's suggestion to bring bandages does not fall on deaf ears, Elidibus has learned his lesson of trying to abort or shift the willful flow of this Star's aether today thank you very much. Also, why stop and reach for bandages when he has power for days and can just conjure some up?
Sure they might be temporary but it'll last an application. In any case...
*pop*
.
.
.
*pop* Enjoy hearing it both times. Elidibus still hasn't fixed that sound. It's possible he still isn't aware of it.
The effect of the teleportation is not as abrupt, bearing with it the trademarks of familiar tendrils of black and purple though only in appearance. Only a small stumble indicates the landing isn't perfect; a glance out the window in following the dragon's transformation and movement had put a hint of altitude which results in the same sensation of missing that final step before a landing.
Let's pretend that didn't happen.
The Emissary will arrive about the same time or a little after Lahabrea lands, but it was a time-saver in comparison to taking a more mundane route through the house to get to this point. His gaze pans around the yard, already seeking to assess what... to... do.
Here, Elidibus falters. Fireworks, yes. Night will be soon. Until then a barrier to display... something, certainly. But what? Certainly not a fiery rain in the sky. Nor buildings of Amaurot- under a sky of blue as that sketch he has framed in his room. How long has it been since he's used magic to cause a display for pure enjoyment? It seemed too easy to think of options earlier but now where to start? Through the Bond, this hesitancy can be detected, though by outward appearances Elidibus has once again begun a spell's construct. Framework to turn into a barrier which would act as a safety net for any wayward spells. It would hardly do to let out-of-control magic under the new moon burn down half the neighborhood or worse, after all.
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Date: 2021-05-27 09:54 pm (UTC)Happily the neighbors hadn't seen such humiliations.
Not a word is said about any stumbles or mishaps, though his whiskers are forward, testing the air for stray unstable magic.
"Why not begin with simple geometries? It'll draw attention, and mayhap offer you a little focus. Getting a square of fire can be a bit of a challenge." For first year students, but that's where Elidibus' concentration is right now, and Lahabrea himself is clear minded to work on gentle encouragement instead of blatantly pushing or harassing.
It's a choice, and a deliberate one. How often had Elidibus gone out of his way to soothe volatile dragonish instincts? Risked lightning and fang and claw to settle frayed nerves and fragile temper? He can do nothing else but offer reciprocation, and what Elidibus seemed to need was stability and a little bit of guidance. He can do that, for a member of his flight..
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Date: 2021-06-04 09:37 pm (UTC)Fireworks might be another matter entirely. Perhaps the slight hesitance is in their favor after all.
It's not as if Elidibus did not feel the amusement. So Lahabrea might be greeted with a somewhat pointed regard when he finally lands. From his perspective it could have been the stumble. Certainly he does not 'pop'!
Well at least the Emissary is easily distractable. Namely when presented with a challenge. There's definitely a mix of emotion with what is presented. A little exasperation- An elementary exercise? Introspection- It could be useful with this new system of magic he is forced to master. Excitement- How could he make it a BETTER display with all this power at his disposal?
The last part will be particularly troubling if it happens to contact or draw those lingering traces of energy in the air.
"Very well," Elidibus professes with an outward calm that is not at all in keeping with the brimming energy and interest underneath. The barrier is complete - and surprisingly efficient as the Ascian had enough of a sense of responsibility to be sure it was a solid construct; permeable for people to walk through but not for stray energies.
The first step in any process is to form the fabric which will be worked with. And thus he begins to conjure the element of fire. Once again as the energies flow out of him and into the spell involved there is an easing of the restlessness in a sense, though out in the growing night and under the direct influence of the rising new moons, there is plenty and more to replace it.
Combustion is creature and fire burns before him without fuel. Warm, flickering and restless as all fire naturally is though at this time it is floating a half a foot away. It is not yet shaped or moved, for he's soon to start conjuring another.