[CLOSED] 🎶 Say that we'll be nemeses 🎶

[ragweed]

WHO: Kit + Sarkan 
WHAT: Kit reluctantly seeks out his best frenemy for some assistance of the magical variety. No, he can't believe he's doing this either. ugh.
WHEN: Towards the end of Solace.
WHERE: The Gallows library
NOTES: General warning for excess levels of snark and grudge-holding.

This was a bad idea, but apparently not bad enough of an idea to keep him from going through with it.

Towards the end of Solace, Kit's leg has made enough of a recovery (it had always looked worse than it was) that, though he carries the crutch around with him, he doesn't always need to lean against it for support. That doesn't mean any part of him enjoys the long hike up the staircase to the Gallows' library; he's embarrassed by how winded he is by the time he finally reaches it. The doors, already open, welcome him in, which is a much better reception than he anticipates getting from Sarkan's table.

He makes his way through the library with considerably less racket this time until he finds the veritable dais of luxury that Sarkan has enthroned himself upon, and just stares at him in disdainful silence for a few seconds, like bracing himself for entering an outhouse or something equally unpleasant. ugh. Give him Bownammar again any day.

He clears his throat. "Hey."

Off to a great start.
 

Comments

[fireandsmoke]

Sarkan stations himself in the library nearly every day. Only now, he keeps in mind a handful of specific goals: learning the dominant local magic techniques in earnest (challenging without minor tutelage), searching eagerly for any details about the Tevinter and their magic, and... any hint, any inkling of blood magic to add to his repertoire. Of course, thus far he has had no such luck. From his conversation with a mentally unhinged dwarf a week or so ago, he gathered that such magic is not only forbidden, but expressly advanced and highly dangerous.

It is exactly the sort of thing to pique Sarkan's interest. Not to continue on the path of destruction, but to learn where it could have loopholes, where it can be fought, and how to hammer back or reverse its ill effects.

The Dragon is known to suffer the occasional interruption in his studies. There was one witch-girl, a fine high-born woman named Petra, who poked her nose into one of his many experiments involving his native magic techniques. There was also an intelligent academic called Cosima who, as fortune would have it, introduced him to the notion of contributing to the Research Division within the Inquisition. He had not the time to develop much of an opinion on Petra, but she is a handsome and well-kept woman, noteworthy for her skills. Cosima is someone who, thus far, has given him a favorable impression with her quick wit and intellectual inclinations.

This hobbling dwarf, though, who insisted on making that awful racket when it was least welcome... this is someone he had no real desire to see ever again. Yet here he is, calling for his precious attention with an inelegant and uninspired Hey. Splendid.

"Well, you didn't grate on my nerves with a clumsy approach. It's an improvement," Sarkan remarks snidely. He looks up and regards Kit like he is a fly floating in his wine-goblet. No, he has not forgotten that Kit holds no favorable opinion of himself, either. "I don't believe for a moment you've come for a friendly chat."

[ragweed]

The face Kit pulls probably belongs on the face of someone walking past a particularly fragrant compost heap. The experience for him is about as unpleasant.

He walks up to Sarkan's table fairly slowly, looking as though his pace is more for the comfort of his own leg than because he's trying to make a dramatic entrance, and again tugs out a chair for himself to sit in. (This time, at least, he doesn't make a big performance of dragging it across the stone floor.) He eases himself down into it, grimacing, and fixes a grim look on Sarkan.

Time to swallow his pride.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," he begins, sound very much like he believes every word he's saying, "but I think I need to ask you a favor."

[fireandsmoke]

"Clearly, or you wouldn't be here."

Sarkan is very much unsurprised. Of course this dwarf wants something. That is always how it worked where he came from, too: the peasantry were smart enough to leave him to his own devices... until they wanted something. When they needed something, help or aid against a corrupting evil, that was a different matter per their longstanding agreement and his general guardianship over his provincial valley, but if it was just a foolhardy want that they begged of him, he was not so keen on delivering.

He closes his book, latches it, turns the brass lock and tosses it on a reading-table to his right. He meets Kit's grim look with a cold, bored gaze of his own.

"A favor. Let's get this out of the way: I already know you want magic. People like you always want magic, even when you fear and hate it. But I haven't a clue what sort of magic you want from me, especially since you must have someone chummier you could have asked instead. I'll give you one chance to explain yourself and convince me why I shouldn't tell you No and send you packing."

[ragweed]

At the first opportunity, Kit draws a breath and then says flatly, without fanfare, "I'm deaf in my left ear."

That's it, really. He could leave it at that, let Sarkan piece together the rest of why Kit has chosen him, out of all the far friendlier mages in this complex, to approach with his very specific request. He doesn't though; he's not sure Sarkan will be able to see beyond his own inconvenience to grasp the significance of the statement.

He picks up his crutch and gives it a meaningful shake at the moody mage, pointedly raising his eyebrows. "You made this quieter. I'm assuming that means you can make other things louder, too. So." He sets the crutch down, rests his elbow on it, and levels a look back at Sarkan.

"Can you?"

[fireandsmoke]

For all intents and purposes, Sarkan looks like he is about to outright refuse.

"Certainly I can do something of the sort," he snaps, as if all of this is of great inconvenience to him. It's not quite an agreement, not yet. But it's not an obstinate No, either.

"However, unless you're an idiot, you know I'm a rifter, ergo my magic isn't without risk," both in terms of trusting a foreigner and in terms of using a different universe's magic in their current realm. "I'm sure there are half-competent local healers out there that could get you a more permanent fix." Even he could think of a number of methods to try, but none were guaranteed to work in Thedas as predictably and reliably as they did in Polnya.

"Why do you want amplification from me instead?"

[ragweed]

"I don't want magical healing from you, I want--something like a device. Something I can put in my ear, then take out again." Even thinking about magic being used to permanently impact his hearing makes Kit's stomach turn; he hopes the dread he feels at that prospect doesn't show clearly on his face.

The words are going to make Sarkan's already palpable ego burst at its seams, but Kit can think of no other way to voice the thought. He rubs the bridge of his nose in preparation for a headache. "Because," he begins, "I've never seen anyone else use magic like that before."

Maybe this is the wrong approach. He reconsiders, then starts to push himself up to his feet. "If you don't think you can do it, fine."

[fireandsmoke]

"Of course you haven't seen it before," he says petulantly. "Many of my minor cantrips don't fall very neatly into any of your schools."

At that last line and Kit's show of gathering himself up, Sarkan's lip curls. Did Kit think him an idiot? The dwarf could not be any more transparent with that stunt. Certainly, the Dragon does have his fair share of arrogance, but it is not unfounded, and it is not without merit to back it up. That does not mean he is compelled to show up and put out with every stupid challenge if he personally feels it is a waste of his time and energy.

If. But, actually, once he puts some thought into it... this is an experiment that could certainly work in his favor. After his conversation with Cosima about the possible illness and debilitation that may arise from rifter's palm-shards, thoughts about perfecting and strengthening his magic and marrying his own techniques with Thedas's have all but consumed his research. The only suitable subject he had for his possible endeavors was himself. Until now.

The dwarf could be a useful and convenient excuse for him to try testing the limits of his designs, and finding ways to extend his magical 'reach.' Far from a waste of time and energy, especially since the proposal involves a relatively harmless charmed device. No damage done, little potential for blown-off lobes or melting flesh. The worst that could happen is brief periods of ineffectiveness and a need to infuse the earpiece a second, third, fourth time, depending on how much it is used and how frequently it is drained of power.

The curled lip morphs into a full-on, icy frown. It leaves a foul taste in the Dragon's mouth to concede to Kit's attempt at manipulation, but he cannot deny that there is benefit to him if he agrees.

"Oh, sit back down!" he huffs irritably. "You're suggesting an asinine and roundabout solution for deafness, but not impossible. Let's lay out the terms. But first: What's your name, dwarf?"

[ragweed]

Not an idiot. Just predictable.

Satisfied that he was correct, Kit gives Sarkan a tight-lipped smile and eases himself back down into the chair, getting comfortable again now that it's clear he's going to get at least a good attempt at getting what he wants. Then, of course, Sarkan has to speak again.

"What's your name, dwarf?"

"Do you need to know it to do this?" Kit retorts sourly, then scowls; okay, that was childish. He shakes his head, then concedes, "Kit Gandir. And what do I call you?" Aside from 'prick.'

[fireandsmoke]

"I would be perfectly satisfied calling you dwarf. But that won't be efficient were it necessary to track you down later about this."

Kit Gandir. He won't forget that.

"I'm called the Dragon." He is perfectly aware that 'Sarkan' is a more comfortable and palatable name for most Thedosians. But he does not care about the comfort of his current companion; Sarkan is his name in the spell-tongue, and it carries more power than he would care to disburse to this man. "Or Lord Dragon if you're feeling respectful," there's some dry laughter and a grim smile behind that quip, "but since my lordship is meaningless in this realm, don't bother."

Not that he needs to tell Kit that. 'Lord Prick' is more likely to spout from his mouth.

"Now, I'm only going to go over this once, so listen carefully. I will make you an earpiece. I won't guarantee permanent effects. Soaking it in a tincture and imbuing a spell-working will improve its longevity, but brewing, soaking, incantations take time. If you're looking for something to quicken the senses in, say, combat, then use it only when you need it. I won't be blamed for any failures or drop-offs at a critical moment."

He does not yet mention that the earpiece's effects may strengthen in his presence, when he is available to top off its waning magical properties. He also does not mention that he could very well make the earpiece capable of superhuman amplification (and that it even may be an unpredictable side-effect), making Kit an invaluable asset as a spy or an eavesdropper. Besides, Sarkan is very interested in observing how long a magical object of his construction would function and last without his presence.

"When it runs empty, you must bring it back to me for a refresher."

[ragweed]

Lord Dragon? Sod that--this guy has to be fucking with him now. "Are you serious--" he starts, but then the Dragon continues on his imperious, but nevertheless crucial explanation of how he intends to create this device, as well as its capabilities and shortcomings. Kit stows his irritation with this guy for a later date; right now, he's getting what he needs, and that's more than he expected to walk out of here with when he first showed up.

"When it runs empty, you must bring it back to me for a refresher."

"And when will that be?" he asks, and does his best not to sound as annoyed as he presently feels. "How long will one infusion last? I don't want to get caught out in the Kocari Wilds not being able to hear a damned thing."

[fireandsmoke]

"Yes, of course I'm reckless enough to loose you to the Wilds and allow you to get pinched in half by the giant swamp crabs with a floundering ear-piece of my crafting," the Dragon says caustically. "Leave it to me to forge and to test, and wait longer to hold it in your overeager hands. I'll give you specific instructions when it's finished."

There are too many factors to name that could change a magical artifact's longevity. The level of noise, the distance involved, how attuned the user is to its capabilities and limits, how long it remains active in the ear... Sarkan's goal will be roughly 24 to 48 hours of continuous use (perhaps a week of practical use), but he will not know for certain until he creates it and assesses the strength of imbued magic. More likely than not, it will take trial and error.

Don't worry, Kit. He'll conduct his own tests before handing it over to you whether you give him permission or not. The Dragon is somewhat of a perfectionist, and although he is aware that he doesn't have the months or years or proper ingredients available to him to create a limitless charge on, say, a magic staff or any other forged magical artifact, he will produce the best he can within Thedas's constricting grip.

"Then there's the most unpleasant bit: I'll need to teach you," that doesn't stop a frown from etching into his face, "how to use it properly in a laboratory space. Yes, I'm abundantly aware that dwarves are naturally resistant to anything of a magical nature, but you should be able to use an artifact like this with reasonable precision. If you've got enough brains to follow instruction."

[ragweed]

Well he's right about the most unpleasant bit: enduring tutelage from anyone pompous enough to call himself the Dragon without a trace of irony is definitely going to tax Kit's usually rather plentiful patience to its absolute limits. Though, to be fair, he was already close to running on empty with this chump to begin with.

"...you should be able to use an artifact like this with reasonable precision. If you've got enough brains to follow instruction."

"Well gosh, ser, you know it's sometimes a trial getting my shoes on the right foot in the morning, but I promise to do my very best."

He reaches for his crutch again to push himself up to his feet; if this is where their conversation is going to wind down to a conclusion, he wants to be prepared to gtfo as soon as possible. "How long will you need for the initial prototype?"

[fireandsmoke]

Though the Dragon's expression remains unmoved, there's a glimmer in his eyes that almost make them look youthful. Finally, a he has got a project -- so simple and meaningless, if he were in Polnya -- that has applications to other facets of his capabilities and workings! He is in his element, taking firm control with aplomb and running off with the reigns.

He takes a considering pause, then holds out an expectant hand.

"Tualidetal!"

From elsewhere around the library, two tomes fly off their shelf-homes and into his waiting hands. One is an alchemic tome, and another concerns herbology and various ingredients available in Thedas as well as their properties. He plops the alchemy book into his lap (half because he's eager to reference what he needs, and half because every blasted bit of magic he uses instigates a new sting in his anchor-palm) and thumbs through the pages for what he is looking for. He knows he will have to reference these in tandem with the massive books he lugged through the rift.

"A few days, a week, or if I manage to blow the labs sky-high with foreign ingredients, perhaps never." Good thing he has a base elixir in his trunk to start him off, or he would most likely have to compromise with a weaker enchantment and no tincture. "You will get what you asked for as fast as I can make it to my satisfaction. I'll summon you. You've got a crystal, don't you?"

[ragweed]

For a moment, Kit almost suspects that the Dragon is doing him a courtesy by extending out his hand--but then of course he isn't, because there come the books, hurdling through the air to his waiting hands like something out of a librarian's worst nightmare. Kit ducks to avoid having one smack the back of his head, shooting the Dragon a sour look as he does so, then pushes himself to his feet.

"I'll summon you. You've got a crystal, don't you?"

Oh, so he'll be summoned by His Lordship, now will he? In frank, wordless irritation, Kit holds up the crystal for the Dragon to see, then lets it drop back under the neckline of his shirt.

"A week." He turns to go.

[fireandsmoke]

"That's the goal," the Dragon hisses through his teeth, his full attention already bent fully into his alchemy tome. As far as he is concerned, Kit is dismissed and may show himself the door.

It may or may not strike the dwarf as strange that the Dragon did not stipulate recompense for this favor, but the truth of the matter is that he is getting plenty of benefit out of doing this without additional payment outright. Besides, he has little faith that Kit could offer him anything valuable enough to catch his attention, unless he kept a secret stash of blood magic instructional booklets in his back pocket for kicks and giggles. Either way, Kit may breathe a sigh of relief that the Dragon is not asking anything specific of him in return for creating a magical artifact, which, of course, takes plenty of time and skill to master even in Polnya.

Or he can choose to be suspicious about what the Dragon is up to. Either way, our dear Lord Dragon is keeping mum on the subject.

Feel free to utilize the library with little fear of running into the Dragon for the next week, because soon he will be shutting himself in to his rooms or to the alchemy labs until he is finished.