and you understand black implies white

[foundmyselfagain]

WHO: Gareth and a bunch of people, and also YOU??
WHAT: Meeting new people and making friends (with varying degrees of success)
WHEN: Now
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: If you'd like your own prompt, just let me know!

[Anders]

When Gareth enters the infirmary, he's visibly nervous. His eyes dart around, take in anyone lying around in the cots, and he relaxes by a hair when he's gotten a good inventory of who's here. The Templars aren't always in uniform, Kostos had said, but if they're in here, they're too busy being sick or injured to worry about him.

"Hello?" For a moment, he thinks about making a joke, Hello, yes, I cut my hand off after all, can I get a baggie for it?, but apparently no one here appreciates his cutting wit. And he doesn't want to piss off the healers, when he needs something from them. "I haven't cut off my hands, for the record."

Close enough.

[Myr + Fern]

Gareth isn't dumb enough to try experimental magic on the actual garden proper, not when so many people have put so much work into it. So he finds a patch of earth that hasn't anything but some grass and weeds, and asks Fern and Myr to meet him there. A few stomps on the ground confirms that it's hard and compacted, like most ground this time of year.

"So, what I was thinking--Stonefist is a spell that gathers a bunch of rocks and sort of...shoots them up through the ground at your target." He demonstrates with his hands as he speaks, expression contemplative. "Usually, you just kind of...shove the rocks back down when you're done with them. But I was thinking, I can probably alter the spell so the rocks just land on the topsoil. That should remove any rocks from the ground, and break up the earth enough for planting."

He glances at the two of them, looking excitedly eager. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to do this? Experiment with magic just for the sheer wonder of it, just to see if it could be done.

[Thranduil]

Ah, the fancy offices, for the fancy people. He remembers these. They're a little less daunting this time around, though he's still wary as he approaches Thranduil's office. The new boss is either a rifter or a Dalish, apparently, and either way, Gareth is as curious as he is cautious. Arriving at the door, he gives the door frame a quick knock, staying outside until invited in.

"Hello--Ah. I'm Gareth, Ser." He bobs his head polite. "I've just joined the research division, and I thought it'd be good to meet you, if you'd like." Look at him, all polite and accommodating. This isn't so hard.

[Open]

Plenty has changed since the last time Gareth was here, and he takes his time trying to get reacquainted with the Gallows. He wanders the library, examining the titles and thumbing through books that look interesting. In the practice yard, he doesn't actually participate, but sits off to the side and studies everyone practicing. He's careful never to stare too long at one person, and has a bag of dried fruit that he digs into whenever anyone bothers to look over at him.

And sometimes, he just hangs out in the courtyard with a book, enjoying the sunlight while it's here.

Comments

[faithlikeaseed]

With earthmoving the order of the day, Myr's dressed down in a heavy borrowed jacket and trousers--robes didn't seem like the best idea, however practical they otherwise are. He can't see the look shot his way, where he leans on his staff at the edge of Gareth's chosen patch of ground, but he's experienced enough by now to infer it.

"Seems reasonable to me," he replies, after a moment's thought about Gareth's proposal. "So long's you keep in mind that terminal bit of most spells--putting the rocks back, in this case--has a lot of mana tied up in it." Cast accordingly--but even despite the mild warning, he's got an eager smile on his face.

"Though I don't know much from farming--Fern, what d'you think of it?"

[wheretheferngrows]

Practical clothes are more or less all Fern's got to work with; she's in her worn leggings and tunic, no staff to be seen, and has braided her hair back from her face to keep the flyaway bits out of her face while they work.

She looks a little uncertain as she peers between the two other mages; they've both got all the trappings of fellows who know a fair bit more about spellcasting than she does. Fidgeting with the end of her braid, she suggests, "It--might be less tiring if I warm the soil up a bit first? Here, I'll show you," she says again, and goes to kneel on the patch of cold, hard dirt, pushing the sleeves of her tunic up past her elbows. Then she reaches out a hand and quickly sketches a glyph into the dirt, which seems to warm instantly, glowing a gentle yellow. It's a fairly rough-looking thing, created from years of practice in gardens rather than acquired through any formal book learning in a Circle.

[foundmyselfagain]

Gareth isn't wearing robes, either--he doesn't do that much, anymore. The clothes that he does wear are old and worn, perfect for their current task. He watches Fern sketch a rune onto the ground, and part of him thinks that his old teachers would've had a fit if they'd seen it. It functions, but if she just made a few adjustments--should he comment? Would it be rude? Does it really matter, if it works?

But she's young, and the Circles are gone. Who else will teach her, if not the mages around her? So he kneels next to her, and in as gentle of a voice as he can, "That's pretty good, and it works, but it'll be more effective if you straighten up the lines here..." He makes a few adjustments with his finger, "...And make this bend a little deeper--there." That finished, he inspects it, then nods, and shoots Fern an encouraging smile. "You're doing good, though. And I mean, this is dirt, and all."

At that, he jumps up, rolling up his sleeves. "Speaking of which, let's get this dirt moving. Everyone, step back."

Once he's sure they've all backed up enough, he puts his hands out, concentrating...and then there's a slight tremor, and the ground under the rune erupts in a cascade of dirt, as a collection of small rocks burst out of the ground, forming a pillar. Gareth frowns, and with another motion, the pillar dissolves, the rocks falling to the ground.

"...Well." He starts, looking at the dirt that has been violently thrown around them, and then slowly beginning to brush some of it off of himself. "We've proved that it's theoretically possible. That's the first step!"

[faithlikeaseed]

"I'd still like you to walk me through one of your glyphs some day," Myr remarks, not moving--yet--from his spot as Gareth steps in to offer instruction. "They don't feel like the cut-down fire glyphs I'm used to using to the same ends; I'd love to know how you came up with them." ...Likewise, it sounds as if he'll need to pick Gareth's brain over the finer bits of glyphcraft, but that can wait for later.

He's quick to get out of the way at the warning, backing off by several feet and starting to sketch a barrier out of the Fade-- But too late.

Definitely a good thing he wasn't in robes. "Augh," he says, eloquently, scrubs at his mouth with the back of one gloved hand. "Next time I'll be quicker with the barrier." It's in his clothes, it's--he drags his hand down his face and sighs--behind his blindfold, but that'll have to be dealt with later in private. Uuugh.

But he's not one to let a minor discomfort ruin his mood. He rakes his fingers through his hair and shakes his head to dislodge yet more dirt, then feels his way over to Gareth's pile of stones with his staff (and a good thing he does, too--spares him from turning an ankle when the softened dirt's a little looser than he was expecting). "Right, and the next one's not getting the topsoil everywhere," he picks up, cheerily. "How much--many--" What're plurals, "of the rocks did you end up getting, also? Is that all of them or just the biggish ones that'd be good for hitting people with?"

Primal's not his school, he doesn't know about all this yanking rocks out of the ground.

[wheretheferngrows]

Like any slightly moody teenager, she doesn't look especially pleased to have her handiwork tampered with... but the glyph does seem to function better, after a bit of altering, so whatever complaints she had prepared more or less fall apart.

"I didn't come up with them," she answers Myr distractedly, "my aunt taught them to me back on the farm. You just--use what works." A little shrug; possibly she's self-conscious over having two, learned Circle mages around her, and expects criticism.

When the rocks come lurching upward out of the ground, she jumps backwards with a little yelp and widened eyes--but yes, it definitely works, doesn't it? "Well we can't use that around the perennials," is her helpful contribution, but she does lean in a bit to admire Gareth's handiwork.

[foundmyselfagain]

"You're an apostate--? Well. Were one, I guess. We're all apostates, now." Gareth doesn't seem to mind, his eyebrows raised, and his usual smile still fixed. More than anything, he seems curious. "I couldn't even tell, though. Good on you, bucking the system like that. I'd be interested to hear what kind of magic you do on farms, sometime."

He meanders over to where Myr is, and starts to haphazardly nudge the rocks into a pile with his foot. "Myr, you'd be interested too, right? That sounds right up your alley. As for the rest of the stones..." He walks over to the violently turned dirt, and peers down at it. "It's not like I have some sort of stone reading ability. I mean." Now he's thinking again, rubbing his chin as he contemplates.

"It'd be tricky, but if I could try it again, and try to control it with fine enough precision that they don't actually bust out of the ground, I could...try feeling it?" He rubs the back of his head thoughtfully--managing to brush dirt off of it at the same time. "But, I mean, how many big rocks can there be in one section of dirt? I can't say much for the smaller ones, the spell only grabs ones bigger than a fist. Those should be easy to remove, though." At this, he glances at Fern, who is now the apparent expert at rocks and their numbers within gardens.