blonde billy #2 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wythersake) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
faderift2024-05-03 03:43 pm
wythersake) wrote in faderift2024-05-03 03:43 pm
[ may catchall ]
WHO: Isaac, Cedric, Lazar + Clarisse, others, you??
WHAT: Open & closed prompts for a bit
WHEN: Vaguely post-attacks, like enough that it isn't silly
WHERE: Here n' there
NOTES: Adding these as I go. Wildcards welcome. HMU on plurk or Discord if you want anything bespoke.
WHAT: Open & closed prompts for a bit
WHEN: Vaguely post-attacks, like enough that it isn't silly
WHERE: Here n' there
NOTES: Adding these as I go. Wildcards welcome. HMU on plurk or Discord if you want anything bespoke.
no subject
Vlast sounds almost absent-minded; his attention is partially occupied by a promising looking tome.
"I cannot speak for Elves or Qunari - they do not exist in Tyria, and too many sources about their physiology are biased to the point it beggars belief. And Dwarves of my world are so very different from the Dwarves of Thedas, they may as well be entirely different entities."
He flips through the first pages, scowling down at the forward, before snapping the book shut and grudgingly adding it to the growing stack in his arms.
"Humans, however, remain unchanged. ...As far as I can tell."
no subject
no subject
A sidelong glance at the mage, before his gaze returns hastily to the rows of books. Whatever Vlast's malcontent, he is hungry for knowledge.
...Hungry, perhaps, for magic as well, with the way he watches the spell as it tugs at the ambient magic in the orbit of his own passive consumption.
"There are the Chak; enormous insects that dwell close to exposed lines of ley energy from which they feed. There are also the lesser dragons; saltsprays, wyverns and the like. Though I suppose I have never witnessed a hydra consume magic. The little pests can certainly wield it though."
A dismissive cross between a huff and a snort escapes him. The desert always yielded such an interesting array of life.
"...Then there are the six Elder Dragons and whatever scions they have sired. For the most part, they are... troublesome."
no subject
(Perhaps that’s a good thing. No one enjoyed him keeping track of what he did, before -)
"Elder dragons?"
The old gods an obvious comparison.
no subject
Something his mother set him on the path to become.
(Though he wonders now if that was ever truly his intended purpose, or if she had looked upon the death of her first son and thought it only a stepping stone for her daughter...)
Laying bare all their secrets to some stranger chafes at him.
"Old dragons. Very old."
He huffs. It's all there in the name, isn't it?
"I can hazard a guess at what you are thinking, and yes, there are a concerning number of similarities. But you have killed five of the seven, and your world remains scarred but intact. I do not think they are pillars of your reality."
A dark frown thins his mouth as his eyes settle on an accounting of the fifth blight.
"Though I wonder if they champion beings that are."
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"The accepted theology is that the Old Gods, as with other spirits, once served the Maker."
So much as the matter is ever accepted, settled; only clerics bicker more than mages.
no subject
"I care little for what gods and their sycophants accept."
On the rare occasions it's the truth, reverence twists it to some agenda. Even his own mother had become alien to him in the hymns the Exalted sang of her.
"What do you think?"
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Dull. Distracted: He's thinking of Joselyn, of her stubborn faith; he's wondering whether she reached for a spell in those final moments.
(Had she even the time? He doesn’t know how she died.)
"But I’ve seen enough of the Fade to not put my faith in the Maker’s children." First or second, thanks. "You might do to inquire with our Wardens. We've lost our firsthand witnesses to the Blight, but they ever hoard information."
no subject
"Hoarding. The implication being they are loathe to part with it."
...And the vast array of contradicting opinions on the Blight scattered throughout the library further implies they are very, very good at hanging on to it.
Vlast doubts he has the silver tongue that will wrest secrets from the cagey organization. He'll have to seek his answers elsewhere.
Or find a particularly stupid and chatty Warden.
"What do you put your faith in, then? ...If you have any left."
no subject
His brows skate in answer. Reflex, really; not half so animated as they might pull, were his mind circling some other pit.
(Did she know it was coming? What did any of them think, when they found themselves overtaken?)
"I suppose," Too distant now to find any sort of joke. Scraping the wounded edge of something real: "That life goes on."
no subject
He pauses in his search for books, gaze lingering for an uncomfortably long time on Isaac.
"For some, at least," he says finally. "It is strange how fate and chance conspire to choose for whom."