( open ) locked up in ideas

[magisterium]

Who: Dorian Pavus & you!
When: Throughout Noveur
Where: Various!
What: Quests and general open prompts as Dorian settles in.
Warnings: None!


i. a drinking problem

[Dorian has absolutely no experience in serving drinks, but he does have plenty of experience in drinking them, as well as being served. He surmises that the opposite can’t be so difficult; it’s a job anyone could do, he’s certain, and so his experience is clearly more than enough. In fact, all things considered, he might even be over-qualified, especially given the request for applicants to be easy on the eyes. He should be able to pay the rent on the cut of his jaw alone.

Regardless of how qualified he is or isn’t, he’s determined to do well his first week at The Sly Seadog, as well as convinced that it won’t take all that much effort. He can’t say he’s interested in doing this kind of work long-term, but he has to do something to earn a bit of cune— neither he nor Brennan have the Inquisition’s coffers to support them here, and he’s not entirely certain anyone in this place could pay them what he feels their adventuring prowess is actually worth. Waiting tables seems as good a place to start as any.

He finds himself forced to lower his expectations exponentially within the first hour of the job. Balancing trays is more difficult than he would have thought, as is remembering drink orders. He’s given at least two playful winks to customers who did not appreciate them in the least, and the taste of many of the patrons here is absolutely appalling.

He makes it through his first shift easily enough, but as the week goes on, he finds himself more and more harried. It’s on one of the busier evenings that he quickly tries to sidestep another member of the waitstaff and subsequently trips, nearly dropping the entire tray on a nearby table. His instinct is to reflexively use magic to keep its contents aloft, only to be reminded of the fact that his inherent magic is now gone— as a drink falls off the tray to hit the table and spill over both it and, quite possibly, whoever may be sitting there.]

Kaffas, that’s the second time this week—

[Fenhedis, he is too beautiful for this. He sighs wearily, his expression genuinely apologetic.]

My deepest apologies, let me take care of that for you— a quick spell ought to do it.

[Alternatively, feel free to approach him throughout the week while he’s attempting to learn how to tend bar, or when he’s on break, which will find him seated at one of the corner tables looking worse for wear and as though he’s on the cusp of an existential crisis. FYI, that’s because he is.]

ii. site of the last stand

[Though far more somber than his attempts at waiting tables, this is a job that far better suits Dorian’s talents. He accompanies other volunteer Mirrorbound to the battlefield as much out of curiosity as a desire to help— this world and its magic are still new to him, but he is keen to learn all he can about it, to witness how they are intertwined and how magic’s residual effects have left their mark on the land.

The results, at present, are not pretty. He frowns as he approaches one of the many trees now bearing unseeing eyes, his arms folded in front of him as he examines it, offering his commentary to whoever else may be nearby— be they witch or monster.]

Gruesome, isn’t it? I’m tempted to say I’ve seen worse, but no tree ought to have any eyes, let alone this many.

[And they’re bleeding. Unsightly.]

The leyline method seems to be a popular one, but we must be on our guard. Truth be told, I’d rather burn the whole thing and be done with it, but I suppose the situation warrants more care than that.

[Of course it does, but it wouldn’t do to let his genuine concern show on the surface. He has a reputation to uphold. Well, not here, not yet, but that’s even more reason to fall back on his old ways, given that he has to build it from the ground up.

Naturally, he’s not just here to purge dark magic from trees. Monsters may be the designated protectors, but he’ll do his part to assist anyone who may need it in keeping Shades or wildlife as bay. He’s not nearly as effective on the battlefield as he would have been at home, but he has to start rebuilding his magical arsenal somewhere.]

iii. scholarly pursuits

[Throughout his first few weeks in Aefenglom, it seemed prudent to sample a bit of what each school of magic had to offer before choosing a specialization. Dorian still hasn’t quite decided on where he should focus his attentions, but he has narrowed it down to a few options. It is his own scholastic pursuits that bring him to one of the Coven’s reading rooms, where he now sits with a number of books spread out across the table in front of him, several of them open, along with a few sheets of paper with hastily scrawled notes upon them.

Much of his current course of study has involved looking into the laws and limitations regarding magic in this place, and on this particular afternoon, he has hit upon something that strikes him as inherently wrong, with only his own personal experience to measure it against.]

Necromancy is forbidden, and yet mind control is merely frowned upon?

[He scoffs, snapping one of the books closed and adding it to the growing stack on his left.]

Ridiculous. The former has all sorts of practical uses when used responsibly, while the latter entirely strips a being of their agency! I would argue that is a far greater violation. Just where are their priorities, hmm?

[He’s not necessarily talking to anyone in particular, really— he does love the sound of his own voice— but anyone nearby is of course more than welcome to engage with him, or, understandably, tell him to keep it down.]

iv. wildcard

[Something else in mind? Hit me with your best shot. Feel free to leave a starter of your own or hit me up via PM or at necrofancy if you’d like to work something out together! Dorian will be a frequent presence at the Coven during his first few weeks here as he does research, but will also be found sampling the offerings various taverns or doing his part to help out beyond the Bright Wall.]

Comments

i.

[noblegarnet]

[Let's be clear: the only reason Ferran is at the Sly Seadog at all is because one of his bonded has taken residence in the rooms at the inn while she works here. Otherwise, he wouldn't be caught dead in such a rowdy establishment with no powers, no weapons, and no way to block out the smell of the sailors who frequent the place.

He's heading back outside the tavern when he spots a vaguely familiar face, although he'd admittedly not given the man his direct attention when they last met. He'd also completely forgotten to check in as requested, as occupied as he'd been by everything...

Somehow he thinks the guy has bigger problems on his mind, with the way he's slumped in his seat.]

How is that optimism treating you?

[Ferran himself looks much, much better than their first meeting, although he is wearing the same coat. He actually has energy now, thanks to having slept and eaten and all those essential things.]

[magisterium]

[To be perfectly honest, the place isn't really Dorian's style, either— though that probably goes without saying to anyone who's spoken to him for more than a minute. Unlike him though it is, he finds that beggars cannot be choosers, and so taking whatever opportunities he can to make some cune so that he and Brennan might get on their feet more quickly seemed prudent.

At the moment, he's wishing he'd held out longer.

He almost doesn't recognize Ferran's voice, now that the youth is full conscious, but when he looks up towards the source of the remark, a wry, tired smirk pulls at one side of his mouth before flickering away.]

Ah, if it isn't the fainting cynic.

[It's good see he's alright, in truth.]

I confess, it has its ups and downs. At the moment, there's something of a downward trend.

[His hair is actually a bit ruffled in the front— mussed. Him, mussed!]

[noblegarnet]

[For all the feigned attitude of his greeting, Ferran is embarrassed enough by the moniker to turn his eyes away, scratching the back of his neck. There's something to be said here about dishing it out what you can take...

He's certainly sympathetic towards having difficulty, though. Being tossed into a different world does that to you.]

I'd imagine so, if you're here... [It's said in a low voice; he'd rather not attract any attention.] Trouble with customers?

[He... figures Dorian is probably not here as a patron, judging by the way the man holds himself. There are much nicer places with reasonable prices elsewhere.]

iii

[shinkunochou]

[She's really only at the Coven to try and find books on monsters themselves, and maybe to enviously browse the books on magic she can't do herself. Maybe they have something on illusions that can help...

Dorian's voice makes her jump and at first she thinks maybe she should run, as if she's somewhere she shouldn't, but then she realizes she recognizes that voice. Quickly following it, she peeks in through the doorway and brightens a little at the familiar face.]

Pavus-san?

[She's not sure if he'll even remember her, though Sae's changed a little since their first meeting. Namely that she's tries very hard to ignore the shifting wings on her back now]

[magisterium]

[Well, she certainly looks a bit different from the last time he'd encountered her, but given that hadn't really been a physical space to begin with, he supposes he should expect that for any familiar face. He recognizes her all the same, and takes a moment to attempt to soothe his ire before he offers her one of his patented smiles in welcome.]

Ah— Sae, wasn't it? I didn't startle you, I hope.

[It had been a rather forceful book-slam.]

[shinkunochou]

[She clasps her hands in front of her and shakes her head.] Oh-- no. Not really.

[That's a lie, but she doesn't want him to feel bad about it or anything. Instead she peers curiously at the papers and books, trying very hard to make it seem like she's not trying to read what he's written.

She's doing a very poor job of it.]

What made you so upset? Are you alright?

ii. site of the last stand

[towards_okeanos]

[Dorian comment gets a response from a mountain of a man. Red hair, broad shoulders, he could easily rival the qunari in terms of sheer size and amount of muscle. Armed and armoured too but no horns in sight.]

Gruesome indeed.

[Iskandar was there when they first tried leyline purging. So when he heard there will be an attempt to do the same in this cursed place, he couldn't ignore it.]

I'd love to agree but sadly most of the magic seeped into the roots. They're slightly more inconvenient to burn than those husks. And then there's everything else that bled right into the soil.

[magisterium]

[He didn't even know they made humans in that size!

He folds his arms across his chest as he continues his examination, letting out a drawn and thoughtful 'hmmm' in response to Iskandar's offering. It's interesting information, certainly, and paints a better picture of the extent of what they're actually dealing with.]

I'm almost sorry I missed the confrontation itself. One wonders what might have been done to prevent such a spread.

[But of course, even someone with his over-abundance of confidence would have been forced to admit that when it comes to the magic of this world, he is but a novice, and there is little he could have done that the Covens here could not do better and on a much larger and more practiced scale.

He sighs— perhaps a bit too dramatically.]

I can only hope the accelerated course on leyline purging I received will be enough— if it could even be called that.

[The whole thing had been rather slapdash. He turns his attention to Iskandar in full now, interest piqued.]

You were here during the battle?

[towards_okeanos]

[There was a way to prevent this whole area from transforming into the sick hellscape that requires cleaning. Not a magical one but tactical.]

There was one thing, don't let the hag escape alive the first time.

[Iskandar remembers well why it didn't happen.

The dramatic sigh makes him smile. Oh yes, this one surely must have been a mage back in his home world. There's something common to all magic users. For all the differences, they all carry themselves similarly.]

I'm sure it will be. The whole process relies on strength of will more than special skill. It's not complicated, just unpleasant.

[Brute force, harrowing side effects but effective.]

I was in Dorchacht in time of attack but I wasn't here for retaliation. Still, from what I heard it was a tough battle.

IV. Wildcard: Bonding

[outofthebreach]

[ It had pretty much been a given, the moment he'd found Dorian here, that the two of them would Bond. The fact that Dorian was a with to counter Brennan's monster - whatever he was - was just icing on the tiny cake, really.

He'd still gone about formally asking, of course. Played it up for his secretly-romantic lover, even going so far as to go down on one knee as he asked him cheekily to be his Bonded. The shades of color that had crept up Dorian's neck and face in reaction had been utterly worth it.

So here they were, off in a quiet little garden on the Coven's ground with a Witch and Monster pair to oversee their new union. Brennan had dressed up for the occasion, even though he only had a few belongings here so far. This was a special occasion, however, and warranted some form of formality. His hair was smoothed back, fastened in a little tail at the nape of his neck to keep the unruly curls out of his face, although one had already escaped, teasing against one cheek.

He smiles as he takes his place before their witnesses and holds out his hands for his lover to take, already going over the words in his head for their Bonding vows. ]

[magisterium]

[The arrangement had gone without saying, really— even if Dorian hadn't found himself to be a Witch in this place, which frankly would have been preposterous, he's certain that both he and Brennan would have insisted on Bonding regardless. Brennan himself had gone the extra mile, and though Dorian would deny it if anyone they knew ever had the opportunity to ask, it had been quite touching— his own romantic inclinations were, perhaps, one of the worst-kept secrets within the Inquisition, but he still insisted on being stubborn about such things in mixed company, even though his relationship with Brennan himself had been well-established and known for years now.

Whatever a Bond might mean for other pairs, the ceremony itself was close enough to a wedding that the occasion merited being handled with a certain gravity. For as cheeky and playful as Brennan had been about asking, and for as hesitant and put-upon as Dorian had pretended to be for all of five seconds before giving his whole-hearted acceptance, this was an occasion he intended to take quite seriously. He, too, has dressed for the ceremony, and his smile pulls to one side as he reaches to take Brennan's outstretched hands, his eyes lit up with the warmth of mirth and something else that ran far deeper.]

Not getting cold feet, I hope? This is your last chance to change your mind.

[As if either of them would ever.]

[outofthebreach]

Please. [ He murmurs softly for his lover's ears, a hint of mischief in his gaze. ] If anyone here is going to complain about their footsies being cold, I think we both know it's not me.

[ But when Dorian slips his hand into his own, he lifts it to his lips as he brushes a kiss against the mage's knuckles. Smiling, he draws the mage closer to him until he can clasp both his hands, meeting his gaze warmly.

The Coven Witch and her Bonded would oversee their vow, but it was up to them to make it real, and he'd thought long and hard about what to say to his new Bonded. Despite his fondness for spontaneity, this... this was important. ]

I don't know which gods I have to thank for drawing us here together. Even if it was from different times, with different knowledge. It doesn't matter. Not truly, not at the heart of this.

There is no one else I'd rather have by my side here, as far away from home as we both are. No one else I would trust as readily with this connection. You already possess my heart, Dorian. You have often been privy to my deepest thoughts, my desires, my fears. It has never once made you turn away or think less of me for my honesty - even when you might not always have agreed with me.

You have been just as honest and open in return and I don't think I will ever stop marveling at how your mind works, or how large your heart truly is. I know exactly how fortunate I am to have found you - not once, but twice now, showing up just when I need you the most. So I ask you, Dorian of House Pavus, will you agree to share a Bond with me? Connect our minds and hearts and souls in this most intimate of ways. In exchange, I vow to grant you my protection, my comfort, and anything else you might ever wish of me. This I swear on all I hold dear.

Scholarly pursuits

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard does not mean to eavesdrop. He is sitting quietly with his own small stack of books, focused not on magic or theory or anything, but fiction. A mystery novel this time, with a hard boiled faun detective trying to recover a missing magical artefact of some great note. It is silly. Predictable. Wonderful for those two reasons, and something Alucard has to admit, is not the kind of indulgence he'd ever expect of himself.

And yet here he is enjoying a dumb novel when a voice he knows pipes up about oh, necromancy.

He can't help it. It is a knee jerk response. Alucard is still himself.]

I'm fairly sure that the moment you try to use the term "responsible necromancy" is the moment an entire society begins to justify the harassing of the dead for pettier and pettier reasons.

[magisterium]

[It's fine— he'd said it loudly, after all.

He raises an eyebrow with interest as he turns towards Alucard's familiar voice, his momentary outburst offset by the smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth. Ah, given on what he'd been able to pick up on in the dreamscape, he's not surprised that Alucard might have an opinion on this— Dorian isn't exactly sure of his situation, but he's certainly not human, or at least not completely.]

Well, harassment is right out. It's not as if there aren't standards.

[He's not a barbarian!]

[cryptsleeper]

Oh?

[There's two levels to the word: one that's pure condescension, because Alucard is still himself, and one that's genuinely curious. He makes it work by sheer power of his own will and perhaps hoping that his good looks might help a hair.]

Such as....?

iii

[chefalier]

[Although Sanji has no capability for magic, he's been spending some time in the Coven and reading just the basics of the magic that can be taught here. Why? Well, good to know what people are capable of in this world, know what he may be potentially up against-- or what he can count on, if such a situation arises. Without his normal skills, it definitely feels important.

Being a vampire has at least kept his physical strength, even though he tires more in the afternoon, but anything that involves Haki or setting his legs on fire are completely gone from him.

It's shit. Just about as shitty that he can't smoke in this building, something about books being flammable and etc. Grumble. Nonetheless, the pirate looks up from the book he's been reading when he hears Dorian speak, somewhat eavesdropping, but hey, the guy isn't exactly quiet.]

Both are shitty.

[There's a definite tone to Sanji, like someone that's seen both and wasn't impressed with either situation. But despite his declaration, he looks to the side for a moment, before speaking again.]

But. Yeah. Mind control is worse.

[magisterium]

Thank you.

[Dorian makes a broad, exasperated gesture with one hand in response, the words leaving him like a sigh of relief. He'll accept 'both are shitty.' He may use necromancy himself, but even he can admit that rarely is it used in a responsible capacity beyond mortalitasi of Nevarra. He likes to think of himself as an exception— as he so often does. Borrowing a spirit to make a mobile weapon of a fresh corpse on the battlefield for a short period of time? Perfect fine. Actually attempting to bring someone back from the dead or creating an army for yourself, well those are right out.

He sags in his chair slightly, more for dramatic effect than anything— made, perhaps, more dramatic by the fact that he doesn't even realize he's doing it.]

That's all I mean to say! Magic itself is, inherently, neither good nor evil, it all depends on the user and its execution.

[chefalier]

[Sanji definitely doesn't disagree with him there. Magic-- power itself is neither good nor evil, depends on the person and yeah. Nonetheless, the thought makes him think about Germa 66's technology, the unopened canister that he received from his shitty family the Vinsmokes, and how the suit in there could be used to protect others instead of carrying out assassinations.

But the cook still isn't ready to go down that route. He's turning into a vampire, enough to deal with there. Sanji shuts the book he's reading, turning most of his attention to the other man now.]

Let me guess, you practice necromancy back home. [Sanji eyes Dorian with a serious expression, not entirely trusting or distrusting. He's already an improvement over Gecko Moria at the very least; he doesn't immediately get the urge to kick his shitty face in.]

Second guess, you're a Witch here. Lucky bastard. [Despite his comment, he doesn't really seem angry or upset, mostly just stating it in a factual sort of tone.]

i with a twist

[chaoticbeauty]

[ The job Yennefer had managed to obtain through a quest had been nothing short of opportunistic. Paired with having both Geralt and Jaskier here, they were never in a position of struggling for anything. At least, not on a monetary front. In an effort to give Geralt some space as he deals with being stuck between his two forms, she'd taken to leaving her cottage more and more. It hadn't been an option when they'd been dealing with the Wish, a race against time. But, that was done and while there was still so much unknown, there was no longer a sense of urgency. Besides, Geralt didn’t need both her and Jaskier hovering incessantly and feeling the cycle of emotions at their own helplessness. So, finding herself in a bar when not giving lessons isn’t a strange sight this month.

Dorian stands out, truthfully, against the other waitstaff for a multitude of reasons. Yennefer is known to people watch, observing what makes someone tick still a specialty. Such knowledge can come in handy, though her reasons for acquiring the information are far less calculating than they once were a lifetime ago. Lofty ambitions have quieted, even before arriving here, the mindset of survival succeeding in taking hold.

What he currently might lack in magic she has in spades, jumping in as the cups begin to fall - teleporting the tray and its contents to her hands before it's past the point of saving. Truthfully, she can’t say she had truly altruistic intentions, unsure if she’d have jumped in if she’d been seated at the table in the corner she’d claimed for the night. Teleportation magic is something she’d had in her arsenal for decades before arriving here, regaining that ability being one of the first things she’d started working on in earnest and has continued to finetune it after bonding. Dressed in black, violet eyes shimmer in the dim light of the tavern as she rebalances the tray -- giving a scornful look behind Dorian. She certainly didn't need Geralt looming behind her to make a point, an invitation of a challenge that the stranger quickly backs down, a soft apology slipping out before he runs and her attention turns to Dorian. It was busy but not busy enough to warrant that amount of patron carelessness. ]

Are you alright?

[magisterium]

[The situation is something of an embarrassing one, but he refuses to allow himself to get hung up on such a thing— disaster has been averted, and while he is certainly feeling his lack of magic quite keenly, he's grateful to his mysterious savior, whoever she may be.

He lets out a short, breathless laugh before offering her a lopsided smile that cuts through the harried air that had otherwise begun to settle over him, bright and charming.]

Just fine, thanks to you. You have my thanks.

[He reaches out to take the tray from her, careful to keep it steady in the process.]

That was quite the display.

[chaoticbeauty]

[ False modesty would be a waste in this moment. She had no intentions of acting coy tonight. ]

Happy to help.

[ She looks him over again quickly before looking around the bar. ]

I take it you're a newer arrival?

iii

[themogget]

Where I come from, they tend to be one and the same.

[The meowing, purring voice comes from somewhere under a table. A moment later, a small cat jumps up nearby with a soft 'prrp' and stands there with the tip of his tail idly twitching. He's a white cat with startlingly vivid emerald eyes and a red collar around his neck, from which a green pendant and a small silver bell hang.]

With one being control of the living, and one being control of the Dead. [He pauses for a moment, as if considering something.] With few exceptions.

[magisterium]

[Well, that's something you don't see every day, even with Dorian's own wide breadth of experiences.]

You, [he begins with interest, leaning towards the table just a bit with eyes narrowed,] are a cat.

[Just so they're both clear on that.]

Fascinating! You speak of your own volition? Is there enchantment involved?

[They'll get back to the subject of his ire later.]

i. !!!

[adjutiacator]

[ admittedly, g'raha was having his own problems adjusting to the new world and new job here at the bar- which, you know, just add it to the pile of things that he's had to adjust to, recently- but bizarrely, during his shifts together with dorian he had to admit that it was a little easier.

despite a lack of bartending experience their respective approaches to the job seemed to mesh well; g'raha can balance trays decently, always seems willing to lend an ear to the patrons looking to share their problems or life stories, and appears to enjoy at least the idea of drink making... whatever his actual skills at it might be. but there was only so far that would get you in bartending, it seemed- and that was where dorian came in. he was much, much better at dealing with the type of flirting many customers seemed to both give and expect, he had many opinions on different drinks and alcohol that he was always willing to offer, and he was always ready with a story or joke if need be. really, it seemed like a good combination!

until reality sets in and the two nerds with little serving experience nearly run into each other, and dorian spills a drink on a table. ]

No that was my fault, please allow me- [ g'raha insists, turning on the spot to try and reach for a towel to clean it up-

-and knocking over another drink with his tail in his haste to do so. oops. ]

[magisterium]

[One would think that two storied sorcerers such as these two would be able to handle serving drinks without incident. Alas, it is not to be.]

Wait, you'll—

[Dorian makes an effort to interject, at least, but there it is, the tail, doing exactly what he'd thought it might.

Well. He can't say G'raha didn't try. Rather than get upset about the whole ordeal, Dorian only laughs as he lets a hand pass over his face, shaking his head.]

Oh, we're absolutely going to be let go sooner rather than later, aren't we?

[Probably, yes.]