[Open] Weary/Hungry/Hunched Over Labwork or Irritable and Lost, Take Your Pick

[fireandsmoke]

WHO: The Dragon (Sarkan) & You
WHAT: In which the Dragon is splitting his time amongst the Gallows library, the alchemy labs/herb gardens, and the Darktown Clinic (first time venturing out there!).
WHEN: Throughout August
WHERE: Various locations around the Gallows and Kirkwall
NOTES: Includes references back to his agreement with Kit. Also seeking out the Darktown Clinic to personally introduce himself to Anders.

THE GALLOWS, ALCHEMY LABS

The herb garden and alchemy labs have been seeing a lot of activity lately.

Astute observers and wanderers may have noticed for, oh, the past week or so, plentiful flickering flames and brightly flashing lights emanating from a cracked door into the most isolated vacant lab. Lyrium blue, orange, gold, pale blue, back to gold… for a full day the blue-gold tone swells and ebbs but never extinguishes completely, a sustained and steady light show in a relatively quiet section of the Gallows. Then comes the noises: high-volume chants, eerie, lyrical whispers, an hour-long song in an unrecognizable language that could give even the least magic-sensitive pinpricks to their necks.

And just as suddenly as the preternatural activity began, it quits and silences, reduced to the flicker of unadulterated lamplight deep into the night.

It is after a few hours of relative quiet when a voice snaps curtly to an invisible presence, “I need you to come to the alchemy labs.”

A peer into the lab's cracked door would reveal a tall, youthful man bent over a lab table, turning something about the size of a small coin over and over again absently in his palm, testing its weight and other invisible attributes with the pensiveness of a fine jeweler. It is a highly weary Sarkan, the one called the Dragon, hovering over a tangle of alembics, flasks, flames, and vials, finally finished with his self-imposed quarantine. While he considers and carefully encircles the small object, he shovels a half-consumed hunk of bread slathered in thick, luscious, fatty cheese with a shocking lack of grace for such a refined and well-dressed individual (and even he would be disgusted with himself, if he were not beyond caring at this point in his efforts). He does not appear terribly aware that he is being observed -- if he's being observed -- and actually looks very much like he could use a bigger feast than he's got, followed by a nice glug of fine wine and a soft bed...


HERB GARDENS AND HALLS AROUND THE LABS, OUT AND ABOUT EARLY IN THE MORNING AFTER THE SCENARIO ABOVE

Out and about the Gallows, the Dragon walks around with a palm cupped close to his left ear, a look of concentration etched into his cold face. He doesn't appear to notice or care if he passes anyone; the most they will get is a pause and a quick glance over the shoulder, his cupped left ear tilted in their general direction. It's a strange sight, to be sure, and one probably couldn't help but wonder if he were going a trite deaf in that ear, or if some sort of pesky fly had bitten him in the lobe...


DARKTOWN

Imperiousness has a habit of sticking out like a sore thumb when it’s the slums you’re walking. It does not matter how thickly the Dragon buries his rich clothes under a heavy, drab cloak, he still manages to stand out, whether it is the nature of his strong and aristocratic gait, or his disdainful glances to the puddles of filth muddying his boots, or the gentle clinking of elixir-bottles and magical artifacts in his hip pouch, or just a combination of the entire package. Even the air smells thicker with decay and destitution to his senses. It is something Sarkan did not miss about his youth in the capital city; he much preferred to tuck himself away from prying, fearful, squealing eyes and surround himself with handsome effects, things that weren’t painful to look at.

Darktown definitely isn’t his taste, to say the least. Beleth’s warning to him about a trek to the Clinic absolutely holds true, and he heeded it wisely, keeping an eye and an ear out for any ruffians that dare to obstruct his path. Anders, skilled mage that Sarkan hears he is, is a strange one, choosing the grittiest reaches of the city to set up a respectable magic school. Was the real estate cheaper?

Though the Dragon was very careful and thorough in requesting directions from the Inquisition and a few guards on his way out, he has not yet had a chance to master his sense of direction in this accursed realm. And now he finds himself referencing his parchment of hastily-scrawled instructions with a deep, irritated frown. He made it this far. Did he miss the last turn-off for the Clinic? What a profound waste of time…

"You over there!" Yes, that is an edge of superiority and disdain in his voice. Mostly impatience, sure, but there is a definite dash of ungraciousness in that tone. "I'm looking for the Clinic. The directions I've got are absurdly useless. Which way is it?"


WILDCARD

For any scenario outside the two described above. He is most likely to frequent the libraries. You may also run into him fielding some of his ‘rifter’ magic in quiet, secluded areas or gardens (like creating little mist-sentinels which he can theoretically send out to spy and listen in on other people, like certain Tevinter in the dungeons, but obviously his range will be much poorer than he’s used to). Any other ideas, you’re welcome to just surprise me or hit me up at kriskristofferson.

Comments

[youwonscience]

"I might look for her, then. I've got to imagine she's in some serious pain." Cosima chews her lower lip, absently. Then she adds, "Some of those flowers do have practical uses, you know."

He probably did. Still. For the record.

[fireandsmoke]

Sarkan shoots Cosima a Look, and bends beneath the table for a tome he set atop his travel-trunk. He tosses it on the table and slides it to her.

It's a herbology tome, of course: a catalog of Thedosian flora and fauna and their alchemic properties.

"Yes, I'm eminently aware of that."

The dryness vacates his tone for what he suggests next.

"I should like to know about it if you learn anything from that girl's case." As it is, all he can imagine doing with his constrained magic is watch how quickly the shard saps that girl's life away. Any attempt at purging her shard was more likely to result in a painful death -- or worse -- than not. "If you find her."

[youwonscience]

"Sure. I'll keep you in the loop. Fade research is my main job with the Inquisition anyway, but I've got a more personal stake in figuring out how the anchor shards work." For self-evident reasons.

"Are you making much progress? Figuring out how Thedosian magic works with yours. It's an area I don't even really know enough about to ask good questions, but I'm interested anyway."

[fireandsmoke]

"Thus far? It doesn't," the Dragon says bitterly. That merits another mouthful of wine. "Not how I wanted or anticipated it would. There's some promise with spells that work toward similar ends, but otherwise, attempting to combine spells is extremely volatile and unpredictable."

He flashes a wry twist of the corner of his mouth.

"I would rather not be the clumsy fool that blows himself and the herb gardens sky-high in a reckless, poorly-thought-out experiment."

Sarkan gives a small huff, and refers with a vague wave to the alembics, flasks, and flames around him.

"All that aside, I've obviously had much better luck applying alchemic principles to the local elements."

[youwonscience]

"I support experiments that don't blow up anything accidentally, yeah," Cosima says with a rueful grin. "It makes me curious, though. I've been assuming magic works on more or less the same physical principles I'm used to, just with different mechanisms. Actions cause equal and opposite reactions, energy has to come from somewhere, that sort of thing. But maybe that's not true."

She sounds thoughtful. It certainly puts her thoughts on spirit healing in a new context. "Or maybe it varies between types. Alchemy isn't so far off from my world's unmagical chemistry. Same with herbology and botany."

[fireandsmoke]

"Then it seems to me that your realm has a great deal more magic than you thought."

After all, Cosima's descriptions of science and flameless light sources are not so far off from a close study of magic or alchemy.

"Some magic is similar, but there is a striking difference in mechanisms here compared to what I know. Thedosian mages draw power from the Fade. Where I'm from, you are either born with magic, or you're not. Abilities are entirely innate, no reliance on some mysterious outside force necessary."

[youwonscience]

"Just a mysterious inside force, instead." She's teasing.

More seriously curious: "Does magic tend to run in families, in your world, as far as people know? It seems like that varies widely between worlds where magical talent is inborn." She supposes that it doesn't really matter, for what Sarkan is trying to achieve, but it's interesting all the same.

[fireandsmoke]

Sarkan shrugs listlessly, a scoff escaping his lips.

"Somewhat," he says. "No one else with my blood was plucked from the streets and shipped to the capital for apprenticeship, and none of the witches or wizards I knew had any children directly with the same gifts." He pauses thoughtful. "Magic does have an annoying tendency to pop up in later generations," such as Alosha's --The Sword's--grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren... "but not in all lines. There's never a certainty."

[youwonscience]

"Interesting. I had a talk with a Thedas native once about how it's sort of like... athletic or musical talent, maybe. Partly heritable, but with lots of variables in the mix. That makes sense, though. It's true for lots of things people refer to as talents, just in a smaller degree."