[OPEN] You were my direction and my roots.

[faithlikeaseed]

WHO: (open) Myr and everyone; (closed) Myr, Vandelin, and Kit
WHAT: Some days in the life of a busy blind mage as he settles in.
WHEN: First part of August
WHERE: All around the Gallows.
NOTES: no one here but us elves

i.

Myrobalan had hardly put his request in to Casoferrazza before the harried seneschal had given him his approval and chased him off again. The man's haste to get the mage out of his hair had been a little alarming, but Myr isn't about to question what small blessings the Maker dealt out to him.

He places the first of his glyphs on the door to his double room and builds outward, weaving a network of sound and magic he can follow like a spider does the strands of its web. One glyph by every room he needs to know, a matching pair at the end of every major hallway. They're only active when he's close, glowing green and chiming softly in an assortment of different tones; otherwise, they fade to near-transparency and fall silent.

Still, they're a fairly obvious indicator of where he's been and where he hasn't in the three days it takes him to map the length and breadth of the Gallows, measuring his steps and marking what he needs to find again.

[OOC: Myr will be everywhere but the inside of the templar quarters and the upper levels of the mage quarters; feel free to encounter him anywhere but the dungeon.]

ii.

It's been no more than two weeks since the Hasmal contingent arrived and Myr's already out of sync with the waking life of the Gallows.

It isn't something that troubles him much any longer. His gutted Circle had grown used to him being awake all hours of the night and asleep much of the day, or elsewise--he contributed as much as they all did to their survival, so what of it?--so there had been little reason try and repair his schedule.

Besides, it's afforded him certain opportunities for peace and quiet he couldn't have otherwise. He'd marked how some of the more dedicated templars (and at least one knight-enchanter) were up well before dawn to attend to their own conditioning in the courtyard; how it rang with blades or hurried activity at all other hours of the day and into the torchlit evening.

The second hour after midnight, however, sees it standing empty, and Myr slips out into the darkness as gladly as a man going to meet a lover. He takes a moment to stand without the door of the mage tower, muting the glyph there so he can enjoy the velvet silence of the night. Then he begins to pace the courtyard in a regular grid, marking obstructions as he finds them. It isn't so hard like that to locate the space others have cleared for their own practice and bound it in his mind.

Only once he's sure it will be large enough for his own needs does he strip to the waist, folding up his light robe and laying it aside outside one corner of the practice area. Then he retreats back across cleared space, staff in-hand, counting his steps to the center where he stops and crisply salutes an imaginary opponent. The ritual gesture flows easily into the first of the forms, the patterns of attack graven into his muscle-memory.

Out here, unwatched, in the predawn darkness, he becomes for a little while the creature he was meant to be.

iii. (closed)

While they're harder to notice when Myr's not nearby, the locator glyphs aren't invisible at rest. They won't be so hard to follow back to their source at his room in the mage tower, where the glyph on the door gleams faintly in mute indication of the mage's presence.

Comments

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin almost responds sarcastically, then remembers he doesn't know her well and could take it all at face value. Better to be direct now; there's always room for sarcasm later. "Well, I've a gift for lightning magic and battle magic in general. I'm a mercenary, so anything that helps me out on the battlefield is a boon. I even got Vivienne to teach me Knight-Enchanter magic, after making my own spirit blade. Best decision I ever made, honestly." If she sounds a little smug...well, she is. That was no easy feat, either the training or gaining Vivienne's permission as an apostate.

"I'll pass on word. And when I say she's more like a Circle mage, I mean she grew up in a school where she was taught how to use her magic. The magic itself can be pretty different from ours, but she can tell you more about that."

Korrin shrugs, placing the towel in a bin when she's done with it. "Those are just some of the reasons why I stay away. Even without all that, or those grotesque slave statues that used to be here, this place has a terrible history. There's no escaping that, anywhere you turn. That doesn't bother you?"

[faithlikeaseed]

A strange expression flits across Myr's face at the mention of knight-enchanter magic--a look both sick and longing that's there for a moment and gone just as quickly. Whatever it was, it doesn't color his tone: "I'll say. Not a lot out there that can stop a knight-enchanter once she's set her mind on something."

He makes a silent note of this information on Hermione--and the insinuation behind it. "I'll be glad of her perspective." Even--or especially--if the school she was raised in isn't much like the Circles.

Does the sordid history of the Gallows bother him? "Oh, I imagine it will, once I run out of things to exhaust myself with before sleep." His reply is soft and rueful, the usual humor bled out of his voice. "But I'm most familiar with a mage's quarters," familiarity is everything when you can't see to navigate, "and there's people here I can't afford to leave right now."

He straightens up from leaning on his staff, and adds, "Being so close to the baths is nice, too. Speaking of which--while it's been a pleasure meeting you, Serah Ataash, I'll have to beg your pardon and take my leave; I'd been meaning to get in here while they still have hot water left."

With a polite nod in her direction, he makes to depart.