faderift | Sixteen books on magic spells

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Sixteen books on magic spells

WHO: Hermione Granger and rifters (or anyone who saw her note and wants to chat)
WHAT: Adelaide is having Hermione find out about magic in other worlds by interviewing rifters ~~for SCIENCE~~.
WHEN: Mid-Drakonis and onwards. There's no deadline on acquiring knowledge!
WHERE: The default is Skyhold's library, otherwise note in the subject line if your character would have arranged to meet her somewhere else.
NOTES: Nothing comes to mind; will change if necessary.

Anyone frequenting the library has probably become used to the curly-haired young girl who's claimed a small alcove as her own. She can usually be found sitting in the corner, nose buried in a book as her brow furrows, attempting to bridge the gap between her worldview and that of Thedas'. It's not always an easy task, and sometimes names and dates get jumbled, which is why she can sometimes be found just a few steps away at the nearest table, books and journals and bits of parchment scattered about as she tries to make sense out of all the reading she's done.

Still, what at first glance appears to be a mess is actually rather organized, and for however engrossed she seems to be in her work, she's always been happy to talk to new people. After all, each conversation counts towards research, even if it isn't in the particular field she's been asked to study. Go ahead and ask around for her if you don't know where to find her; chances are she's hard to miss, and many will be able to point out the inquisitive rifter if she happens to be around.

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"That sounds absolutely barbaric," she remarks dryly, the accompanying laugh proving she doesn't mean anything by it. And if it doesn't, that much is probably clear when she sighs, "It does sound like more fun. But I really should at least poke my head into the ball. For a little while. Before I get too curious about the pies."

"Yeah, well. You know me. Big ole barbarian with a dog, minus the beard. And the bear skins. And the bad breath- you know I am a terrible barbarian." He should probably work on that.

No, no he shouldn't.

"You really are," she informs him simply. "But that's all right. You don't have to be an outright barbarian to know how to have a little fun." That's something Hermione knows a little bit about, probably to the surprise of some people. She is capable of having fun, she just... usually chooses not to.

"Maybe I just gave all my barbarian-ness to a friend 'a mine goes by name of Asher. Big hairy Avaar fella. Got twice the beard as most men and more all over his arms besides. Keeps fight'n bears- probably cuz they think he is one." Between the hair and the temper, he can't rightly blame them.

"He sounds as though any such barbarianism was likely donated by more than one source," Hermione replies, eyebrows arching a bit. "I don't know much about the Avaar; is that common for them?"

"Even for an Avaar, Asher's somth'n else. You'll likely hear him before you see him, and smell him before you hear him. Contrary to popular though, ain't all that bad a smell. Clay paint, bear fur, ale, and probably blood. Maybe his, maybe not." A beat. "He's a reaver, that makes him special."

Hermione's already shifting a little uncomfortably, given the description of this Asher fellow. The scents described quickly go from neutral to distasteful, but given that Mal doesn't seem to feel any animosity towards him, she keeps that out of her face. Besides, she's never been one to judge a person before meeting them. "What's a reaver, exactly? Some sort of profession, or...?"

"Well...they're a kind of warrior. Don't rightly know everything about how it works but from what I can tell they get hurt, they get madder, they fight better. Tak'n hits while fighting helps them focus. Berserkers are worse- they just get mad. Reavers tend to be able to shake out of it sooner." A beat. "At the end of the day they're big men what kill things with big weapons. Me? I like hav'n what I'm kill'n at a distance."

Hermione frowns a little at that description. "You mean that being in a fight just make them want to fight even more? That sounds... concerning." That sounds a bit like Ron, really, but more and more things are reminding her of Ron lately, so she shakes that out of her head. "If you two are so different, how did you happen to meet him? Here at Skyhold, I presume?"

"More or less. Good to have on your side if you're facing a dragon." Or maybe it was just good to have The Iron Bull at your side when you were facing a dragon. Either way, it worked out. "Met a coupla years back during a job, actually. It's...kind of a tale."

A big, messy one that changes with each telling.

"If you don't grow so attached enough to them as people that you'd grow worried of losing them to their own foolhardiness," Hermione points out. She can appreciate fighting until the very end, but the fight doesn't always have to be physical. Knowing when to retreat, regroup, and revise your strategy is just as important as causing bloodshed.

"The kind of tale you actually enjoy telling, or the kind that's going to make you casually change the subject if I ask after it?"

"...Every time I think I might have you pegged you gotta go say somth'n that breaks my heart." Studious girl what holds her ground and, apparently, has seen some shit. Seems a mite young for it but Mal himself knows how age don't much matter when the world decides to be cold and cruel. He shrugs at the question, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well...I don't rightly remember all of it, Korrin remembers more, and what neither of us remembers Asher does. There was ale involved."

She blinks, surprised by that proclamation. She'd definitely seen some things that no teenager should have ever had to witness, but she'd started off with that sort of thing at such a young age that it's already the norm. "I'm... sorry?" she asks, not entirely sure if that's quite the right response.

"Ah," she replies when Mal mentions there had been ale. "Then I suppose I can understand the patchwork storytelling that would be involved. I'll just have to wait until I get all three of you in the same room, then."

"Ain't your fault. Makes me a li'l sad 'bout wherever you come from but I oughta know better than t'think just cuz a world ain't got our very fine fuzzy wuzzy Maker and all it's mess don't mean it's not got it's own share of problems. Don't much like think'n on it fall'n on the young is all." Youngish. She's seen more than most and that makes her mighty.

"One day we'll have to spell it out, cuz I can't recall but half. Maybe two thirds."

"Maybe we do have a Maker, just... in a different sort of sense than what's known here," Hermione remarks, careful about her wording. She's always felt uncomfortable talking about religion, but it seems to be a major point of conversation around Skyhold. "Either way, bad times means that everyone is affected, not just the people who are of age at the time. I was twelve when I first became aware of how dangerous it was just to go to school."

Cracking a small smile, she tells him, "Well, so long as you remember one-third of the story, and the others can make up the remaining two-thirds, I think it should work out all right."

"That's...real young." Statement of the obvious is, unfortunately, obvious. But Damn, that's early to learn about how rough and raw the world can really be. Not like he can reach back and fix it- but it don't make him not want to try. "We'll make a night of it. Little food, little ale, spin the tale of how I ended up half naked with a bear."

A beat.

"Badger stole my shirt, s'why I was half naked."

Hermione only shrugs a shoulder, neglecting to tell him that she'd actually been the oldest among her friends at the time, and had come out of it with minimal injuries. She hadn't been so lucky the following year, after all, or the year after that, and so on.

For now, she only listens to Mal, mouth hanging open a bit the more he speaks. "A badger," she echoes. "I'm... not entirely sure if that makes the story more or less strange. But it does make me more curious, so we should certainly get together at some point."

"Nah, Badger, not a badger. Man went by name of, and such. Thought it made him sound all intimidating while being respectable." He shrugs. "I don't rightly know how that worked out for him."

"Oh... oh! Oh, that makes much more sense!" And then she stops and thinks about it for a moment before realizing, "Except... not really. Why steal your shirt?"

"...I couldn't tell you."

"Because you don't want to?" Hermione asks, smirking a little. "Or because you genuinely don't know?"

"I honestly have no idea- and I was sober for that part." Mostly sober, at least.

"I highly doubt a sober man would simply let a friend make off with his shirt," Hermione points out dryly. "I suspect it's probably a bit different for men than it is for women, but it can't be that different."

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Sixteen books on magic spells

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