http://freewolfmoon.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
freewolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
witchesreign2011-07-31 07:42 pm
freewolfmoon.livejournal.com) wrote in witchesreign2011-07-31 07:42 pm
2 ☣ settling in
[1: the training center; last night]
[In the middle of the training center there is a ghost. Only not really. Ghosts generally don't fight T-rexaurs or wield really huge swords.
After almost two weeks, on and off, of watching the adventures of others in the training center and occasionally taking on a few Grats, Fenris has decided to see just what its more monstrous inhabitants can really do. Curiosity may be his stated intent, but of course his motivation is as always as much to release some of his fury at the world he's been thrown into at a controlled burn as anything else. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly counting on this...rather remarkable dragon-like thing. He's not completely outmatched, but it's a giant dinosaur, and all he has is his natural strength and his armor. He could probably use a little help.
He's trying not to look like he needs it, though. He fights ruthlessly and intensely, with perfectly controlled, powerful swings of the sword and low, flat-voiced oaths muttered in some foreign tongue. And then there's the matter of his ghostliness. He seems insubstantial despite the obvious power of his blows, shimmering nearly white and moving fleetly, ethereally through the undergrowth.]
[1: the library; this morning]
[The work given to him over his time here has been easy enough, and the compensation fair. Collect and sort trays and utensils in the cafeteria. Wash Garden's official vehicles (all right, so he's not entirely convinced those filthy metal things aren't some kind of armored monsters, but aside from that). Spend a night making sure monsters don't escape the training center. That sort of thing. Today's job: "More librarians than usual have the day off. Pick up the slack for them and put the books back into place."
Fenris was supposed to get this done early in the morning, before the library officially opened. It's now 0915 and he's still standing in front of one shelf, holding a stack of books and debating internally whether he could get away with sorting them by color and calling it a day. It's one thing to tell Hawke that he can't read, you see; it's quite another to admit it to the people in charge of Garden.
On the plus side, he's feeling too awkward to be properly filled with rage right now.]
[In the middle of the training center there is a ghost. Only not really. Ghosts generally don't fight T-rexaurs or wield really huge swords.
After almost two weeks, on and off, of watching the adventures of others in the training center and occasionally taking on a few Grats, Fenris has decided to see just what its more monstrous inhabitants can really do. Curiosity may be his stated intent, but of course his motivation is as always as much to release some of his fury at the world he's been thrown into at a controlled burn as anything else. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly counting on this...rather remarkable dragon-like thing. He's not completely outmatched, but it's a giant dinosaur, and all he has is his natural strength and his armor. He could probably use a little help.
He's trying not to look like he needs it, though. He fights ruthlessly and intensely, with perfectly controlled, powerful swings of the sword and low, flat-voiced oaths muttered in some foreign tongue. And then there's the matter of his ghostliness. He seems insubstantial despite the obvious power of his blows, shimmering nearly white and moving fleetly, ethereally through the undergrowth.]
[1: the library; this morning]
[The work given to him over his time here has been easy enough, and the compensation fair. Collect and sort trays and utensils in the cafeteria. Wash Garden's official vehicles (all right, so he's not entirely convinced those filthy metal things aren't some kind of armored monsters, but aside from that). Spend a night making sure monsters don't escape the training center. That sort of thing. Today's job: "More librarians than usual have the day off. Pick up the slack for them and put the books back into place."
Fenris was supposed to get this done early in the morning, before the library officially opened. It's now 0915 and he's still standing in front of one shelf, holding a stack of books and debating internally whether he could get away with sorting them by color and calling it a day. It's one thing to tell Hawke that he can't read, you see; it's quite another to admit it to the people in charge of Garden.
On the plus side, he's feeling too awkward to be properly filled with rage right now.]
no subject
The obvious explanation occurs to him soon enough.]
Then that was para-magic.
no subject
No, it's angel magic. Like my wings, see?
no subject
"Angel magic." I know nothing of this. It is a form of shapeshifting? There are tales of apostate witches who do such magics, but I doubt they would aid someone in battle as you did. I imagine they have fewer illusions about the corrupt nature of their power.
no subject
You don't have angels where you're from?
no subject
[Well, she mentioned her wings, so he assumes...]
no subject
No, dragons are a kind of monster. Angels are the servants of the Goddess Martel. They serve her and protect her, and watch over her while she's sleeping.
no subject
Anyway, then he's back to being a jerk.]
A sleeping goddess entrusts her safety to mages? I cannot see how that religion would possibly go wrong.
no subject
Mages are different. They're elves...or half-elves. Martel created the angels to help her take care of the world.
no subject
I see. Angels are human mages, and they are well and good, but give the same power to elves or the elfblooded--
[He's never heard the term "half-elf" before, but he guesses that's what it means.]
--and then it is a problem. This will be your undoing; no matter who wields it, magic corrupts.
[A pause. Then he sighs.]
...I'm misunderstanding again, aren't I?
no subject
[ It's becoming clear enough that Fenris doesn't like magic for some reason. She fidgets with her hands, trying to come up with a way to explain it. It's painful to think someone might dislike her just because she uses magic. ...Maybe that's how it is for half-elves. ]
At the beginning of the world, the Goddess Martel created all different kinds of beings: angels, elves, dwarves, summon spirits, and humans. Angels are the closest to Martel, and they help her care for the world. Summon spirits are beings of mana and exist as a part of nature. Dwarves live long lives and are great craftsmen. Elves are mortal, but live longest of all the races, and because they can sense mana, they can use magic. Humans live short lives and can't sense mana, so they can't use magic. But sometimes elves and humans have children--those are half-elves--and they can use magic like elves.
no subject
Not so different, no. My world is...similar, save there are no angels. And there is no goddess, though some speak of a Maker.
[He lifts his sword again and settles it across his back, for lack of anything better to do with himself to distract from how much the ideas she's telling him.]
Humans and elves can both use magic, where I'm from, and both can be a danger with it. But it is the humans who rule.
no subject
Um, I hope it's not rude of me to ask this, but...are you not human, Fenris?
no subject
I'm an elf. Is it so difficult to tell?
no subject
I was right! I thought you might be, since you look so much like the professor and Genis, and you talk as if you're not human.
no subject
This is something that excites you? I thought you too young to have such tastes.
no subject
Tastes? [ sob you jerk she can't taste anything ] Well, Genis is one of the best cooks I know, so of course I love his food. Though Professor Sage's cooking is kind of scary...
no subject
It's not important. You know elves who are...respected professors?
[A snort, as he thinks on what she's already told him.]
Unless that's simply a term of address among mages. I wouldn't be surprised.
no subject
no subject
[He gestures sharply.]
It's the same thing. That you would let such a woman teach children...
no subject
[ She clenches her hands at her chest and a distressed tone creeps into her voice. ]
Don't talk about her like that! The professor is a wonderful person and the best teacher anyone could have!
no subject
You'll defend another, an elf, against my words--
[He gives a slight, almost apologetic tilt of his head.]
--my ignorance, perhaps, if it's true healers don't use magic in your world.
But not yourself?
no subject
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted at you.
No, I can't heal or use magic, just angel spells.
no subject
I insulted your friend. You had every reason to shout at me. I know nothing of her--whether what she does is magic, whether she can control the magic in her blood urging her on. I spoke in anger.
[He doesn't actually apologize, mind you. This is sort of as close as he'll get for now.]
Yet I call you corrupt and your faith deluded, and you have nothing to say in your defense?
[He's silent for a moment, trying to think of a reason for such reactions. She harbors spirits, perhaps, and is hiding her own guilt--but surely she would have betrayed evidence of that by now? There's another possibility...]
How freely do you follow this path?
no subject
[ She shakes her head. ] It doesn't bother me that you think that way. Not everyone believes, and that's okay. But it's important to me, so I do.
[ That question hits so very close to home, though. Too close. After a moment, Colette very carefully folds her hands together and smiles. In truth she has little choice in her destiny; she has no illusions about that. The world is imperfect, painful, full of sorrows and suffering, and the Chosen must die to keep the world from perishing.
Sometimes she would think, "This isn't fair," or, "I hate this," but then she'd remember the cool breeze, the warm sun, Professor Sage's gentle guidance, Genis's laughter, Lloyd's bright smile.
She's okay with it, and that much is her choice. ]
With my whole heart.
no subject
Fenris looks at Colette with a gaze that's somewhere else; in the back of his mind he's walking out of the slavers' den with his back to Hawke, still feeling Hadriana's heart between his fingers and knowing that he let his promise turn to dust because he couldn't do anything but return anger with anger.
(And that was when the world splintered around him and he landed in this one. Why can't time compression have good timing? Why did it have to wait until he knew the magisters had taken even his own integrity from him?)]
That it does.
[His voice is low and rough. Jealousy. That's what he feels at her words. That whatever has shaped her has still left her with the capacity to forgive. And the bitterness growing on his face? That's just disgust with himself for not being able to hold onto it in the same way.]
Then cherish your freedom, angel-mage, and count yourself fortunate. Not all who bear the stain of magic chose to embrace it so recklessly.
[Disgust with himself, too, for how he's treating Colette now, what he's saying to her, when he knows it may not be so simple.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)