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[incaenstrix]

WHO: Character(s)
WHAT: Various open prompts for MAKING FRIENDS
WHEN: Eh, nowish
WHERE: Around the Gallows
NOTES: Potential references to slavery, anxiety, and injury.

i. The Courtyard, night
There have been times in the past when Tertia has had a bed to sleep in. But when she was servus publicus, she slept on a thin pad on the hard floor, and when she was fighting with the People she slept in a bedroll out in the field. She had a bed with the Magister, though. Soft and stuffed with goose-down. Gentle cotton sheets.

So sleeping in a bed has proven to be nearly an impossibility. And so at night, she's been taking a blanket and a thin pillow out to the courtyard, and she's been laying them down on the ground beneath the stars - or the clouds - to sleep.

The downside to this, though: she's likely a near-invisible figure in the dark. Someone taking a late-night stroll might well trip over a small sleeping girl, or might be startled to find that something out of the corner of their eye when they're having a smoke is stirring, elf-eyes glinting in the dark.


ii. The Library, daytime
There are signs when someone isn't a particularly adept reader. Tertia bears those signs: her lips move as she reads, forming the sounds unconsciously, and her finger traces along the lines as she goes along. But she also doesn't waver. She sits for actual hours, focused intensely on the work, determination in the set of her jaw and the furrow of her brow.


iii. The Training Grounds, daytime; action brackets preferred
Excuse me.

[ A young elf woman might approach you while you're training. Her staff makes it clear that she's a mage. Her manner is softspoken and mild, and she asks - ]

Would you tell me a bit more about your fighting style? Where did you learn it?


iv. Wildcard
[ do WHATEVER ]

Comments

[incaenstrix]

Yes, Enchanter.

[ The careful, hesitant deference with which she'd first used his title has given way swiftly to something more familiar and comfortable. It's genuinely respectful, now. And there a real eager admiration as she watches him casting those glyphs.

She draws back her staff. Her casting is slow, much slower than it would be on the battlefield, because she's endeavoring to master the form. Being careful so she can do it right. So, then, after a few long seconds, a tongue of lightning lances out to strike against him - nearly full power, as she trusts he can defend himself.

(No squeamishness about using magic against a person. She's done it before, plenty of times.) ]

[luaithre]

[ The careful movements of her staff are an easy telegraph both for the timing of her attack and its nature, but the lesson isn't concerned with that. Marcus holds his staff in a defensive line across his body, and then, that lash of light—

He steps back under the force of it, an impact that hits but doesn't injure, none of the expected convulsing or burning. Lightning splits, crackles across his staff, over a shoulder, dies.

(There there is no uncertainty, hesitation, no 'really?' at his request, all actionable information too. And nothing in need of correction.) ]

That burned up most of it, you see? [ He lifts a hand, and it's difficult to make out visually, the subtle shift of faint light made even fainter, but if she focuses, she might be able to sense how much energy is still being channelled to defend him, which is: not much. ]

If we were fighting, what would you do next?

[incaenstrix]

[ She brings her staff back to a neutral position, eyebrows lifted at just how effective that was. But a moment later, she's packing away her admiration of just how cool Marcus is, cocking her head to the side to thing. ]

It seems like - I'm probably using more energy attacking than you are defending. [ A hesitation, and then with a shy sort of smile - ] I'm guessing have someone else come up behind you with a blade isn't the answer you're looking for.

[luaithre]

Not today, [ he'll allow. Not an invalid tactic, in life, especially in a mixed company like Riftwatch, but for the time being— ]

There's no single answer. There's cost and benefit in each decision, where to spend your concentration and how. You could focus your power into bringing down my defenses fast, but once you have, I'll likely be better positioned than you to engage. If you're patient, use lesser magics to wear them down, save a proper attack for the right moment—

[ A gesture. ]

You might hurt me before I can recast my defenses, leaving me open, or I may be quicker off the mark and bring them back up, and you'll have to start again. It's a matter of timing, developing a sense of it.

But this is where we are, now. What would you do next? Without any blades at my back.

[incaenstrix]

I think -

[ She bites her lip a moment. ]

I'd probably rely on being faster than you. Maybe see if I could cast things that cause you pain. [ - is maybe a little incongruous, given her sweetness of face and manner, but she doesn't flinch when she suggests it. ] If I can break your concentration, then you'd be open for a bigger spell.

[luaithre]

[ Marcus watches her, considers that, nods,

and dismisses the rest of his Barrier with a flourish of his staff, which seems to catch fire at the edges of its blade and burn off without direction. He recasts that same splay of glyphs, that shock of moonlight-glow under the morning sun. ]

Try it, [ he invites. ] As you've described.

[ He doesn't inform her as to whether he can dodge or dispel that mentioned bigger spell—she does not seem to require the assurance, but he does seem more readied, this time, in anticipation of her success. ]

[incaenstrix]

[ Here she does hesitate. ]

Exactly as I've described?

[ Inflicting pain? ]

[luaithre]

[ Marcus nods.

Pain is tolerable, and testing theories and reflexes are important. He waits, prepared to brace himself through the diminishment of his Barrier, prepared to act when it goes down. ]

[incaenstrix]

All right.

[ She takes a deep breath. And then she pauses for a moment, because - ]

Should I try to keep proper form while doing it?

[ Because there's a difference between how fast she can move when she's being careful, and how fast she can move when she's relying on instinct. ]

[luaithre]

[ There's a second spent where Marcus thinks about it, where the instinct to say yes is weighed against how much of his prowess was formed outside of a Circle, alongside apostates, matched with Templars, and later, Venatori. That there aren't any tried and true forms for the kinds of magic he favours.

He's also curious.

So instead, ]

No. Do as you will.

[incaenstrix]

[ A little nod. Then she relaxes a bit, and takes a breath -

And her form, when she attacks, is a mess. It's easy to see right away that there's very little real advantage to the way she casts, aside from unpredictability and speed: there's wasted magic all over the place, a lack of accuracy and precision. But what's maybe most striking is where it seems to come from; when Tertia casts, the tightness of her jaw and the aggression of her motions show plenty clearly that this is magic powered by real rage. When she casts, she's furious.

Lightning lashes out - it's not powerful, but again, it's very quick. It lashes at Marcus' hands, face, the patches of exposed skin where blows sting the most. ]

[luaithre]

[ He would see it even if he wasn't looking for it; it's all extremely familiar, the anger and its excess as Fade energy is torn wild through the Veil and flung with speed towards him. Marcus keeps his focus, anyway, bracing himself as that snake of Storm magic forks towards him—

No damage, the Barrier soaking the injury, but lightning snaps and bites all the same. If she is concentrating, she might sense his lowered defences—less depleted than her earlier strike, but perhaps enough.

Either way, Marcus goes to recast it (telegraphing it some, ensuring she sees his action, not as urgently fast as though his life were really at risk), protective glyphs once again searing across the training yard dirt in preparation to raise his defenses.

It's really up to her, if she can act a second time before he can finish. ]

[incaenstrix]

[ And she does. She's been victorious in a number of battles by now, and it's not because of raw power; it's because she is fast, and strategic, and observant. When she sees that opening, she does fling herself at it, another bolt of lightning (and a second one on its heels) coming straight at the break in his defenses. ]

[luaithre]

[ Lightning sneaks through, both spending the remaining edges of his summoned barrier and interrupting the one he'd been casting behind it as it dances across his hands and has him turning his face away to shield it, raising his staff. The protective glyphs he'd started now flickering and dying rather than burning and brightening.

Another crackle of Storm magic summoned and flung, and Marcus launches himself aside on instinct, magical lightning scorching the earth, and stumbling slightly when a fork of it still catches his ankle.

He puts up an empty hand, a signal for her to stop. ]

[incaenstrix]

[ Control isn't quite her strong suit. So it goes a moment longer than it should; a tongue of electricity zaps at the place where he'd been. But she does pull out of it, and brings her staff back to center, mingling anxiety and eagerness - uncertain if she's about to get praise for her speed or a reprimand for her wildness. ]

Are you all right?

[luaithre]

[ One last slight hop before he is stable again on his feet, no limp detected in the next step down, and he nods to her. He's alright. Also: does not use his staff for balance, because it's not a walking stick, a thing he's sternly informed apprentices too many times to do himself. The air smells singed, stormy, but free of burning flesh and hair, which is not always how mage training might go.

A gesture, inviting her forwards and out of the duelling distance they'd been maintaining. ]

Good, [ once nearer. ] You were fast but precise. As you've noted, you can pain or stagger a mage behind his defenses even if you're not dealing injury, and stop him from casting, but doing it while conserving your own energy is a trick of timing. You did well.

Your technique [ a tip of his head ] needs practice. Do you sense why?

[incaenstrix]

[ That makes her all but glow as she comes forward, pleased as anything with those words of praise. ]

I think -

[ She's still smiling, even as she tries to look solemnly thoughtful. ]

I'm not very accurate. And I probably use too much energy.

[luaithre]

Mm.

[ —a middling kind of sound. She isn't wrong, but it's not everything, and he is obviously considering his way around it. The problem in itself can largely be corrected with practice and drills, anyway. ]

When you cast that way, [ instead ] without concern for form, what do you reach for instead?

[incaenstrix]

[ She furrows her brow. ]

What do you mean?

[luaithre]

You move with anger.

[ It doesn't sound like criticism, nor compliment. Neutral observation, prompting. ]

[incaenstrix]

[ She hesitates a moment - then touches her jaw, a pensive gesture. ]

Usually when I've been casting, I've been looking at people I - [ Hated. ] Who've done evil sorts of things. And I think I cast stronger when that's the case. So I think that - maybe I do think about them a bit.

[luaithre]

There's strength, [ he'll grant her. ] But it compromises your control.

[ Which is dangerous. He doesn't say this. It isn't necessary, in this moment. ]

Sometimes anger can feel like fear, and the other way around. Do you find that?

[incaenstrix]

[ A hesitation - a long one - as she thinks. These are things that she's never had to examine before. ]

I...think so. But fear is more - heavy, perhaps? Anger feels lighter. [ Another hesitation, and then she asks - ] Do you ever lose yourself to it, Enchanter? Fear. Or anger, [ is an amendment, because Marcus doesn't seem like fear is the things he's prone to. ]

[luaithre]

Sometimes.

[ But he doesn't leave it there, silent as he quests around for a better answer, before opting to speak more frankly. ]

In the Southern Circles, most of them, mages are taught strict governance over their emotions. Our emotions interact with our magic, and to pull wildly and without control from the Veil, to let our own guard down, is to open ourselves to demonic possession, and so. Expressions of feeling, of reliance on feeling, is trained out of us.

There's wisdom to it, but I don't think it's everything. Anger [ to confirm ] is something I must draw from, at times. It's kept me alive. But it requires practice, and control. Understanding my limitations, but also my abilities, and their fullest manifestations.

I wouldn't wish to encourage it out of you, but you should treat it as you would a wild creature. Nothing to fear, but in need of taming.

[incaenstrix]

[ Something in the middle catches her attention. ]

Emotions open you to demonic possession?