[Closed] I've got the magic in me

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Five billion mages.
WHAT: The mages Anders has invited mingle
WHEN: The tenth of Wintermarch
WHERE: A warehouse in the docks
NOTES: None atm.

The warehouse is set up pretty sparsely. Part of the warehouse is taken up by a table of food next to a table of drinks next to a table of plates and cups that don't match, near a lot of scattered chairs. A short space away is a deliberate oval of chairs because he, at least, is amused in making sure no circle shapes occur here. Finally, there's a table with a stack of scraps of parchment.

When everyone's gathered and is starting to mingle, Anders stands up and clears his throat.

"Thank you for coming." It takes work to look calm and confident. This feels so important to him and he doesn't want to make a mess of it. "Obviously the food and drink is self-explanatory," he says with a faint smile before gesturing at the oval, "As far as the rest, I figured we could have a small area set up for serious discussion, any heavy matters that people want to talk about, easily joined and left or ignored completely."

He jerks a thumb in the direction of the last table. "Finally, the parchment is for writing down anything you particularly want to teach or learn. Put your name on it, and people can page through them and be in contact. And I think that's enough from me."

Comments

[meds4sale]

This was all very well and good with impassioned speeches about never going back and spilling blood for the cause. The Medicine Seller observed from a distance, still munching on the graciously prepared snacks.

He was quiet (aside from the occasional crunch and munch) for a time, listening closely to the assembled disgruntled mages trying to figure out their future.

"One of the bigger hurdles," the Medicine Seller said slowly, "is the penchant of mages to become possessed."

He didn't use the term 'Abomination'. He had no desire to call someone who suffered from a possession an abomination any more than he desired calling someone who suffered the flu such a thing. Sickness was sickness whether it afflicted the mind, body or spirit.

"I can, perhaps, help in that regard."

[misdirection_hex]

Vandelin has heretofore been hovering more in that vicinity himself, meandering gradually in the direction of the chairs without involving himself visibly. It's generally best, he thinks, to listen and get the measure of a room before one opens one's mouth to do anything but put salmon into it.

He had been about to do just that nonetheless, to inquire politely as to who exactly Gareth thinks has forgotten the war and its still-evident aftershocks, but the Medicine Seller halts that question in its tracks.

That is, indeed, a more pressing question to resolve. That is the elephant none of them, himself included, are ever quite willing to acknowledge of their own volition in the corner of the room. The prospect of a solution, whatever that solution might be, is worth an audience. He knows the Medicine Seller just well enough to believe his instincts worth following when offered.

"How do you propose to do that?" he asks.

[meds4sale]

"My techniques..."

And he trailed off, staring up at the ceiling, then out a window, and then a corner. There was a good 45 seconds of pausing before he resumed as if his mind just hadn't taken a stroll elsewhere.

"...can possibly be adapted to your magic. The principles are not dissimilar."

He looked down at his hand, and from his sleeve, folded paper rolled out down the expanse of his long fingers and unfurled, the creases rippling out into perfect smoothness.

"Ofuda bare a resemblance to glyphs, for starters."

[justice_is_blond]

The stretch of silence is long, but the possibility that there's a way to prevent possession is worth sitting there wondering if the man's falling asleep. Anders leans forward to see the paper better.

"And Ofuda protect against demons?" Or spirits, but they don't need to go into discussion of that right now.

[wheretheferngrows]

Fern feels so totally out of her element in this discussion that whatever ideas she might have seem small and insignificant compared to what the other, more experiences mages have on offer. She'd be mulling that over herself if she weren't too busy staring at Colin with very wide, shocked eyes.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Bethany is sitting down, hands folded in her lap as she looks from one to another. Listening carefully, before she glanced over to The Medicine Seller. A faint nod of her chin, before she looks back at the others.

"If the Medicine Seller can do that - then that gives the Chantry less of a hold on us. That is the one thing they use against us against the common folk that we cannot deny - we are vulnerable to possession. Once that is gone ... they cannot make people afraid of us."

She paused, then her mouth quirked wryly. "Well, of that aspect of us, at least."

[meds4sale]

"They protect against many things," he said in that plodding tone, as though he were just emerging from a daydream.

"Including demons."


There was another pause as he considered.

"It is not so easy as just that. Some mental discipline is required. It may not necessarily help - but nothing I will demonstrate will harm."

[keenly]

"That's as winning a pitch as I've heard," Colin says helpfully, although trying to find an answer to a centuries-old question within the space of a single meeting sounds iffy to him. But this man is different. This man is as different, anyway, as anyone might be who could offer any answers. And if it won't harm, it's absolutely worth a try.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

"Will you require a volunteer, Medicine Seller?" Bethany asked, her tone respectful. This man is, after all, offering up a solution to an age old thorn in their side. If he needed someone to see if it would work, the least she could do was volunteer to be the rabbit.

[justice_is_blond]

"Or any particular items to start working on it and teaching it?" While there's no guarantee a Rifter's magic will work as expected here - Hermione had been a clear example of that - but this is absolutely worth trying out.

[foundmyselfagain]

"One," Gareth holds up a single finger, "How are we going to get a volunteer? I mean, I guess we can ask Kostos if his brilliant search method turned up anything. Or anyone." You know, with the whole asking if anyone was possessed. Tactful. "Though it is Kirkwall, we can probably just take a field trip to Darktown and throw a stone, good chance we'll run into someone there."

"Secondly," And now two fingers, "While having someone who can potentially fix abominations is handy, he is only one person. And a rifter, at that." As in, a person who is liable to up and disappear at a moment's notice. "If any of us can reproduce it, that's one thing. But we're going to need more than one guy with weird magic."

[meds4sale]

"Materials will not be a problem. They are minimal."

Ink. Paper. Not exactly easy to come by in most spheres, but within the confines of the Inquisition, it was available in excess.

"Volunteers would be agreeable. Particularly any with intimate understanding of glyphs. Time... and a patient disposition would be..."

He paused, his gaze wandering to the ceiling again.

"...agreeable."

[justice_is_blond]

Anders snorts at the comment about Kostos' search method, listening to both mages.

"We're absolutely going to need to see if it's reproducible. That will be key. If it isn't, we can appreciate this for now but there can be no counting on it." Rifters vanish all of the time. Medicine Seller might stay for a great deal of time, like Araceli, or be here and gone like Emma Swan. There's no telling.

"As soon as possible, Medicine Seller, we should set this up. Not to rush, care needs to be taken for the volunteer's sake," which sounds like it might be Bethany, "but it will help to know if this is a viable plan or not."