Myrobalan Shivana (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faithlikeaseed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2019-09-06 09:08 pm
faithlikeaseed) wrote in middaeg2019-09-06 09:08 pm
[open/catch-all] live, i wanna live inspired
Who: Myr + you! Yes, you. Over there. Stop hiding behind the furniture. (Starters for L + Connor in the comments.)
When: ~Septeril 2nd to Septeril 18th,author reserves the right to update date range at random to fit around the Dorchacht trip. Myr is in dignitary group number 2, so feel free to catch him any time up until the 14th!
Where: Around the City, mostly the Haven and the Coven.
What: ~*training montage*~
Warnings: None as yet; will update if any arise.
i. coven.
Though the invitation for Monsters to sit in on classes at the Coven was made plain from the start, Myr hadn't availed himself of it his first month in Aefenglom. Call it preoccupation with adapting to his new circumstances, call it having the run of a city for the first time in his entire life, call it having a regular job.
Call it anything but wounded, festering anger that he wasn't invited to those classes as a student, because Geardagas had seen fit to strip him of his magic on passage through the mirror.
He can't sulk forever; even early on, he'd acknowledged he would need to learn how magic works here, if no other reason than his own insatiable curiosity would drive him to it. But that acknowledgement hadn't amounted to action until he'd been given two very good bits of evidence, one (the SQUIP) right after another (Dorchacht), that the Witches here couldn't all be trusted to use their power for the common good any more than Tevinter's magisters could. And what does that fucking say for the Libertarians' arguments about mage rule...
In order to beat a Witch, he'd need to know as well as they did how magic worked. And--he couldn't keep weighing their ethics, their reasoning on Thedas' scale; couldn't keep up his reflexive judgment of everything said or done by a member of the Coven if he didn't know how they thought of themselves.
They're not the happiest reasons to finally come learn magic, but they're good enough to make him an occasional fixture in the back of the Coven's classrooms in early Septeril. Maybe he's reached over politely to attract your attention and ask, sotto voce, what an instructor's drawing on the board. Perhaps his newly grown antlers are in the way of you being able to see the board. Or maybe he recognizes your voice out in the hallway and gravitates over to ask, eagerly, what class you're bound for next--because sitting with someone he knows a little is absolutely better than being among total strangers.
ii. haven.i like sticks
An advantage of profoundly disordered sleep is that there's many quiet hours in the night for Myr to do those things he'd rather not people see him doing.
Like sneaking into a deserted park in the Haven after the bells toll three one morning, staff and dagger in-hand.
There's no one here in Aefenglom who knows who he was back home. There's no one to tell him he can't fight, that he's a liability, that he'll never sit his vigil--but all those things have come with him through the mirror, and they cling close as shame and keep him furtive about his combat drills and forms. Furtive, but not unfaithful, because with the trip to Dorchacht looming on the horizon, he needs to be in his best form.
Stripped to the waist and furred up his back in pale white fuzz, he stands out like a wraith among the darkened trees. Live opponents would be better than the invisible ones he constructs for himself from memory, but his staffwork's sharp enough anyhow to almost infer their presence from how the blade slices air.
iii. wildcard.
(( GO WILD. Myr works at one of the Daisy Chain locations as a gardener and might be found literally anywhere inside the Bright Wall if he'sgotten lost exploring. Also prone to napping in some weird places when his awful sleep habits finally catch up with him. Hit me up (Plagueheart#0051 on Discord) if you'd like a starter! ))
When: ~Septeril 2nd to Septeril 18th,
Where: Around the City, mostly the Haven and the Coven.
What: ~*training montage*~
Warnings: None as yet; will update if any arise.
i. coven.
Though the invitation for Monsters to sit in on classes at the Coven was made plain from the start, Myr hadn't availed himself of it his first month in Aefenglom. Call it preoccupation with adapting to his new circumstances, call it having the run of a city for the first time in his entire life, call it having a regular job.
Call it anything but wounded, festering anger that he wasn't invited to those classes as a student, because Geardagas had seen fit to strip him of his magic on passage through the mirror.
He can't sulk forever; even early on, he'd acknowledged he would need to learn how magic works here, if no other reason than his own insatiable curiosity would drive him to it. But that acknowledgement hadn't amounted to action until he'd been given two very good bits of evidence, one (the SQUIP) right after another (Dorchacht), that the Witches here couldn't all be trusted to use their power for the common good any more than Tevinter's magisters could. And what does that fucking say for the Libertarians' arguments about mage rule...
In order to beat a Witch, he'd need to know as well as they did how magic worked. And--he couldn't keep weighing their ethics, their reasoning on Thedas' scale; couldn't keep up his reflexive judgment of everything said or done by a member of the Coven if he didn't know how they thought of themselves.
They're not the happiest reasons to finally come learn magic, but they're good enough to make him an occasional fixture in the back of the Coven's classrooms in early Septeril. Maybe he's reached over politely to attract your attention and ask, sotto voce, what an instructor's drawing on the board. Perhaps his newly grown antlers are in the way of you being able to see the board. Or maybe he recognizes your voice out in the hallway and gravitates over to ask, eagerly, what class you're bound for next--because sitting with someone he knows a little is absolutely better than being among total strangers.
ii. haven.
An advantage of profoundly disordered sleep is that there's many quiet hours in the night for Myr to do those things he'd rather not people see him doing.
Like sneaking into a deserted park in the Haven after the bells toll three one morning, staff and dagger in-hand.
There's no one here in Aefenglom who knows who he was back home. There's no one to tell him he can't fight, that he's a liability, that he'll never sit his vigil--but all those things have come with him through the mirror, and they cling close as shame and keep him furtive about his combat drills and forms. Furtive, but not unfaithful, because with the trip to Dorchacht looming on the horizon, he needs to be in his best form.
Stripped to the waist and furred up his back in pale white fuzz, he stands out like a wraith among the darkened trees. Live opponents would be better than the invisible ones he constructs for himself from memory, but his staffwork's sharp enough anyhow to almost infer their presence from how the blade slices air.
iii. wildcard.
(( GO WILD. Myr works at one of the Daisy Chain locations as a gardener and might be found literally anywhere inside the Bright Wall if he's
no subject
Bad form in the middle of a banter session, but there you are. Freakin' nerd.
"S'pose it's better than the alternative," he picks up as if he hadn't left off, and puts the bin back where it belongs. "We'll be hurting for an alchemist, but given what you're leaving for,"
He finishes the sentence with an eloquent shrug. Anyone who'd complain about it has an opinion not worth worrying about.
no subject
Probably. Then again: there's not much else in the way of 'leaving', given the geographical constraints posed by the infection. But hey, maybe he was thinking about going to live in the woods indefinitely, like a crazy person. You don't know his life.
no subject
They were going to be out an alchemist and a gardener, but Myr at least had a return date in mind.
"But if it isn't that, don't tell me. I'll give her the more dramatic reason."
He ain't going to hate on living in the woods like a crazy person. Crazy situations just call for a reversion to being a forest hobo, sometimes.
no subject
Certainly abandoning all hope and going to become an infected loon would be more dramatic than hitching a scheduled boat ride over to Dorchacht - something Geralt's happy to let people assume he's doing. Clearly, most mirrorbound understand that there's an off-market way to get there, but he feels like that fact should be kept as quiet as possible.
(And man, he wishes he were smart enough to go on the fucking boat. Fucking teleporting fucking magic. Ugh.)
no subject
"Got talked into giving diplomacy a try. If there's any difference I can make, I'd sure as the Void like to."
Preferably without dying like a scrub the way he had more than once in their collective nightmare of the place. Which puts bringing fire and blood down on the slave market out of the question.
...Prooobably out of the question.
no subject
Twenty years ago he'd never get involved. He'd say fuck the lot of you and stay out of harm's way for as long as possible, and let people kill each other like idiots. Part of him still wants to do just that, even though he's learned by now that there's no such thing as neutrality. But his daughter would be disgusted with him if he did nothing.
"What's your name, by the way."
no subject
It probably won't work out, but Myr's trying to apply all his usual hoping-for-the-best to the problem; Everett's infectious optimism about redeeming the populace had gotten to him. Maybe--Maker willing--they'd all be surprised! And Dorchacht's citizens who weren't already among the Resistance would see reason, free their Monsters, and turn on the ruling Coven!
More likely a few soft-hearted sorts would think about being a little kinder and the espionage group would smuggle a Monster or two out and that would be the end of it.
That's how it would go down in Thedas, anyway.
"Myr Shivana. And I know they'll know who I mean when I tell them the alchemist's left, but--yours?"
no subject
"Geralt." A beat, and then he adds, slightly awkwardly: "Of Rivia."
Obviously a peasant at best, with no surname, with only a flimsy tacked-on title to weave connection to civilization. But without context, it feels stupid to continue to use it. The rusty wheel trying to make his brain work is probably almost audible.
"Just Geralt is fine."
no subject
He'd only broken himself of the habit through repeated introductions, and even so it's always right there waiting to pop out if given the chance. It's one of the last pieces of home he can carry with him, after all.
Besides, seems only polite if someone else is going full length to titles.
no subject
"Maybe we'll run into each other again." Maybe he'll even have a job when he gets back! Stranger things have happened.
"Try not to get snatched up in Dorchacht."
no subject
"Wouldn't mind it; I'd been meaning to ask you about alchemy sometime. Buy you drink, maybe," because that's what people do in the Outside World in return for favors, right? No harm trying. "If we both make it back in one piece."
Not being overoptimistic about getting kidnapped by slavers; it happened to savvier people. The plus side of antlers is it's not like they can put a bag over his head, though.
"Maker walk with you, Geralt."
no subject
Not that he bothers with anything besides shots of vodka despite the supersenses, raised on hideous mutant moonshine. Like an animal. For now, though, it's all doom and gloom and another kind of work entirely. Geralt feels what he assumes is the appropriate amount of regret for being a bad employee (not much), but heading over to a potentially curse-covered city is much more in line with his actual profession. There's almost a sense of relief, perverse as it is.
"Good luck."
And that's all, for him.