tɦɛ iɳquiรitѳʀ (freemarched) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-08-11 06:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, lina inverse, maxwell trevelyan (the inquisitor) |
Who: Max & Lina
What: The first get-together regarding Magical Engineering
When: Today
Where: Mage tower at Skyhold
Rating/Warnings: Low, just language
Status: Complete
The mage tower at Skyhold had become more homey over time, the more Max settled in and the more care he gave to the place. To the medieval fortress in general, yes, but it was obvious that this particular tower held a particular importance. It was beginning to resemble something that would double as a location for either a late night summer tea party or a warlock’s lair - probably due to all the herbs, hanging from the ceiling and perfuming the place, the deep scents clinging to the inside and providing a contrast from the mountainous air outside. A very warm, candle-lit place, shelves of apothecary bottles, chalkboards with words scrawled upon them, books and stones and old antique-looking cabinets. In those cabinets, he had boxes of lyrium stored safely - it had been processed, to an extent, transformed into the standard lyrium potions that mages tended to use in Thedas. Some weren’t even potions, Hazel’s father had concocted a whole bunch of different forms - jars of ‘brew,’ something like a jelly, an option which looked like tablets, and then crushed powder. Basically a drug-laden gold mine for any Templar, but no one was going to know this was here, except for Trevelyan and a couple of others. Lina, at least, was one of those people - Hawke had recommended her, so Max reached out. Working with lyrium for this purpose, the purpose of infusing a prosthetic with the substance to give it ‘life’ and the wearer a magical boost, was new for the both of them. With the lyrium not in its raw form it would be easier to handle but still dangerous. He’d promised his loved ones he’d be careful, and he intended to stick to that promise. “This is what it looks like, as a potion,” he said, showing Lina the corked bottle, the neon blue liquid sloshing around within. It truly did burn, almost - it nearly thrummed with each ‘breath,’ glowing that vibrant cobalt shade. “But I have multiple forms in that cabinet,” Max gestured, wearing just the regular prosthetic arm for now. He followed the doctor and therapist’s rules, to get used to the artificial arm and was doing well with it. “Being that no one’s ever engineered a prosthetic infused with lyrium before, I wasn’t sure which form would be best. I assumed options were good.” It was a fucking castle. What was the real estate value, Lina wondered? Her mind raced, calculating the funds in her financial accounts, what was in savings and what she could sell to - Alright, calm down, you can’t sacrifice Amelia’s growing college funds for a castle. Bummer. Kids. They’re so goddamn cute but ruin everything, don’t they? Fine, fine. In all seriousness, though, it felt like something she’d see in the dreams she’d been dealt with - familiar and archaic with an esoteric vibe in a days of old setting, and many of the Sorcerer’s Guilds she’d been to through her travels were styled similarly. Wax candles, the musty scent of books and earthy ingredients, bottles with a little bit o’ this and that. There was always a small sliver of her that missed the medieval lifestyle, up until she realized she couldn’t give up things like modern conveniences (plumbing, electricity) and glorious, glorious drive-thrus. What? You couldn’t just roll up to a tavern on a horse carriage and ask for an All-American Burger to-go during those times (with a side of fries and a shake), you just couldn’t. “Good call on the options,” she murmured, taking the glass container into her hand for further examination - there was a set of glasses on her nose, and those flaming tresses were woven into a long braid. “Hawke gave me the rundown; it’s alive, isn’t it?” Among other descriptor words the blood mage had used. Volatile. Dangerous. All things she liked to mess with even if she shouldn’t. A wonder that Maxwell wanted to use the substance as part of an extension of himself, but the sorceress admired the impressive size of nads he had for going for it. “Do you have any books I can borrow on this? To get a better idea of what researchers were working with, and what other ways it could have been experimented with.” “Yes, it is,” Max confirmed, nodding - and on his end, he was just impressed that Lina hadn’t run off screaming because it’s aliiiiiiiive! and other sorts of horror movie cliches. But apparently she was about as stubborn as he was, and Trevelyan was definitely determined to make an artificial limb work with her assistance. Once he got used to the rather unique prosthetic, and got back to himself again with an ability to defend his home the way it deserved to be defended, then hopefully everyone could relax a little. Plus, he felt like a chunk of his livelihood, his happiness, had been ripped from him with the loss of his arm. He remembered that Blackwall once seemed so in awe over how Dorian cast his spells with a certain amount of joy, rather than restraint or feelings of shame - for Max, it was the same. Being a mage did give him joy. And not being up to par made him experience a profound hollowness. That would be fixed, however. He was taking the steps to make improvements there. “And I do have books - Skyhold’s library is pretty impressive, but let’s see here...” He stacked a few books he’d gathered, ones that the Inquisitor amassed over the years from various book merchants in the south (and some looted), telling Lina what they were. “The one that’ll likely provide the most insight is this one - “ Max slid it free from the pile, showing her the cover. “Lyrium: The Voice of the Maker. You can keep them for as long as you need. I just appreciate all this - we’re kind of attempting something no one ever has before, and I feel guilty for worrying people.” Yet he knew it was the right thing, to do this. He knew it even in the marrow of his bones and the deepest chambers of his heart. It was a very iffy venture, a dangerous gamble - but if he was willing than she was, too. Lina could (bitterly) recall having her magic sealed by a demon in both versions of her dreams, even thinking about coming to terms about how permanent that predicament could have been. It didn’t come with the trauma of losing a limb, but she knew the depressive, desperate feeling it came with being unable to access power. Being cut off from something she needed like air in her lungs, it would have ruined her. Great results came from taking risks, though, and it was a philosophy the redhead had a penchant for living. Here’s hoping Max wasn’t against possible collateral damage - lyrium had a beautiful, mystifying glow but its properties were farthest from flowery adjectives. The bottle was set aside to give her hands freedom to sift through the books, curious. “Worrying people comes with the territory of coming up with crazy ideas,” Lina snickered, an indecipherable glint flashing in those ruby eyes. “It’s not like you don’t know what we’re messing with, right? Research is key, and so is trial and error. I want to know about this substance as much as you and Beardy know - but from the looks of it, off the top of my head…” Hmmm. Her teeth nibbled her bottom lip, and she drummed her fingertips against the cover of one of the tombs. “I’m thinking we’ll probably need a stabilizer of sorts? Something to balance out the lyrium some more - keep the levels controlled so it doesn’t flair up and get weird on you. Do you have any aesthetic designs for the arm? Any other materials you were thinking of working with?” The lyrium potions, as Trevelyan had crafted them, were meant to increase the duration and effectiveness of spells - but it was true, you needed other ingredients for the purpose of balance. Magic was about balance in general, a balance that must be maintained. Which was why working using lyrium for something other than rituals, something more permanent on the flipside, also had to be a balancing act as well. And he knew quite a bit about what they were dealing with too - being a mage, in Thedas, meant a precise study of what gave his kind a connection to the Fade, what strengthened it, what weakened it. “Elfroot and deep mushroom should be added to whatever concoction is infusing the artificial limb,” he said, stretching up just a bit to grab some of the elfroot he’d cultivated in the gardens; the deep mushroom powder was in a canister, which he also brought over so Lina could get a look at the stuff. “They’re added to lyrium potions - so they’d probably make a good base for what we’re doing here too. I was thinking, sort of like this - “ He had sketches with the books, so he flipped to the page - and artist he was not, but it conveyed the idea well enough. Steampunk-ish and aesthetically appealing. “It’d be a light armor with the lyrium veins laced along the inside, and the lyrium’s what gets the arm to move the way I’d need it to move - the magic is channeled through it, to enhance spellcasting.” Max smiled wryly. “I’m not really good at sketching, but hopefully you get the idea. And I fully expect trial and error. Especially since, like I said, nothing like this has ever been attempted before. But given that, in Thedas, lyrium golems were possible? I think an arm can happen too.” Because really, if a golem could move, so could an arm - granted, he was human, and he couldn’t wear that arm all the time. Because he wasn’t naive enough to try to think he was completely immune to the effects of lyrium either. It’d be one hell of a project to try out, no doubt - lately she’d been occupying her time at the Agency researching Galvayra (a weapon that was, technically, a demon retainer of another dark lord) and perfecting her sword of nothingness spell to lessen the blood spewing side effects, but she planned on putting this one as a top priority. Max wanted to be a fully functional mage, then she’d get him there as soon as possible. Lina pushed back a stray wisp of orange-red hair behind her ear, viewing his tentative blueprint of what he’d wanted. “I got the idea,” she assured with a chuckle, running the tip of her nail across the design. “If we’re building it then hell, might as well design it into something stylish to wear, right?” Those ingredients - the elfroot and deep mushroom - were investigated too, mostly with a whiff with those sniffers. “Best thing to do is set up shop here, or somewhere in here. A workspace that can suffer some casualties.” “This place is perfect - it’s specifically, well, a mage tower.” Max glanced up, fondly, assessing their surroundings. Outside, hanging on the stone, was the emblem of the Circles - which, granted, had fallen in on themselves like an undercooked souffle by the time the Inquisition came around. But then they were reinvented as educational institutions, rather than prisons. He considered this more of the former - a place to learn and experiment, what a proper Circle should have been like. The metallic fingers of his prosthetic arm rested upon the sketch he’d made too, mentally tracing the design, brow furrowed. “It’s separated enough from the bigger parts of the fortress, and it was meant for throwing spells around anyway. So feel free to bring whatever you need, or leave things here - honestly, it’s kind of a hike up so it’s not as bustling of a community as it was in my own dreams. Do you want to set up regular sessions?” Of course he’d make sure to be here - they’d have to go in increments. “It’s safer, to go in stages. When working with lyrium, it won’t be an overnight completion.” Lina liked the space, but she wanted to make sure this is where he wanted it done - it wouldn’t be surprising if it was fortified through enchantments and warding to withstand a little ka-boom action. It was rare the stuff she worked on didn’t produce some kind of show; she was used to it, and fully expected the mineral-like substance to give her some turbulence when it was being handled. Though she was determined to make it her bitch, one way or another. Stay the fuck calm, lyrium. “Noted and expected,” she concurred, but she looked forward to it. It was something new, dealing with elements that weren’t confined to her own laws and rules of the sorcery she practiced from her home-universe. “I’m also good for regular sessions - commuting isn’t much of an issue. I can’t teleport but I can sure as hell fly up here, at least. Uh, so, what do you do for food around here though?” Alright, what? It was a valid question - if he had stuff on-site that was cool, but otherwise she’d bring like five bags of takeout and gorge herself because her brain and magic both needed edible sustenance for fuel. And she doubted Papa John’s delivered out here, just putting that out there. “Food?” The inquiry made Max grin a bit, but the expression on his face also spoke volumes like oh, huh, good question. It’s not like his magic was overly reliant on sustenance for fuel, but like most other aspects of life, you did your best work when you were well-nourished and mentally sound. When those basic needs were met. “There’s a tavern here, Herald’s Rest - let’s just say we’re covered on alcohol, but I’ll make sure it’s stocked with food too. If you want to bring anything, feel free to do that also. Or we can take turns - one time, I’ll bring enough pizzas to give us heart attacks, next time Chinese.” The trouble with having Skyhold, glorious as it looked, was trying to reconcile its medieval aesthetics with modern times. But it was something for them all to work on, to gradually turn this place into something of a getaway. “I have a friend getting married here in the winter, actually. So stocking the fortress will have to be a thing before that anyway.” Trevelyan wouldn’t let Leliana get hitched in a cold, dank castle - no, he wanted to make it as homey as he could first. Yes, food. Lina’s magic burned a lot of energy and a lot of calories - which was both a blessing and a curse. If someone asked her fiancee, probably a curse with the dent that it put on their bank account. And normally her appetite was ravenous overall, but if someone asked, just blame it one hundred percent on the magic and stop judging her. Nothing wrong with a woman that liked to eat all the time. Actually, she had some snacks in her purse she ought to nibble on… “Oh, yeah!” Lina’s face lit with recognition, piling the borrowed books into her tote bag of things - it was enchanted to lay like it was flat regardless of what was in it, and helped it keep it light-weight. A fucking saving grace when it came to things like a diaper bag. “I heard about that - actually, you’re really just sitting on a goldmine when it comes to a wedding venue. Or any kind of venue for any event.” Could even be a prime location for a Renaissance faire, come to think of it. Skyhold had a lot of potential for practical use (doing things related to magic was practical to mages, anyway) or, hell, a revenue for some little extra income. “It’ll be pretty in the winter. It snows for a month straight in December.” Okay, now Trevelyan was kind of just...staring at the way Lina packed her tote bag. Because that was defying laws of physics right there. “How - uh?” One eyebrow lifted curiously. “But right, it is kind of a gold mine, isn’t it? I was thinking hotel at one point. Maybe I could even rent it out for couples who want to impress each other.” He’d been considering it more and more - the idea of generating revenue from turning Skyhold into some kind of getaway, and what a picturesque, one-of-a-kind place it would be. That would have to be a group project for sure, but he had friends whose brains he could pick about it. “At the very least, I’ll have electricity and running water for a winter wedding,” he chuckled, closing his sketchpad (kind of the concept of ‘dream crossover’ to spare him his writing arm, a small favor). “And heat. Especially if it’s going to snow here. I think I was out of town last year, so I didn’t hear much about it.” Traveling for mental illness advocacy work had been Max’s main MO until he settled with his practice in Anaheim - but apparently he’d missed a lot in Orange County. Oh well, seemed like he was making up for all that now. “It’s a little trick,” she waved a hand in response to his look, giggling a little. “Helped a lot in the good ol’ dark ages when your mantle was full of loot.” Technically stolen loot, but did it really count when the stealing was done from bands of thieves? Lina didn’t want to look like she was overloaded with stuff during her travels, nor did she want to feel the weight of treasure dragging her down (let’s be honest, gold coins and jewels after piling up were fucking heavy), but it didn’t stop the shinies from clanking together and making...noise. Still, really handy when a diaper bag was loaded with so much baby things and felt like it weighed equivalent to an anvil. Such extremes really did make a point on how funny life had turned out, didn’t it? Ohhhh, but as for the hotel idea? Lina had a giddy sort of look to her, impressed. “My eventual-husband and I went to Scotland some time ago and stayed at a castle - it was awesome. I didn’t pay for it, but he can probably tell you it cost a pretty penny or two. I always hear there’s a lot of profit to be made in lodging anyway. Might as well share the experience of this place and pocket a little extra, don’tcha think?” Considering getting this place up-to-date on certain conveniences might cost a hole or two in his pocket, those expenses should be offsetted somehow. “Oh, tell me about it,” Trevelyan laughed. “That would have been a great trick to know for my own traveling band of misfits. Seemed like there were never enough slots on our belts for potions or grenades or whatever else.” His own bag wasn’t that impressive - a regular sort of satchel, that he packed up probably a bit more slowly than Lina was doing. But it took him a second or two longer, to grasp things with his artificial hand. It was the myoelectric kind, rendered workable by impulses from the brain which traveled along neural superhighways - just something he was getting used to, in addition to everything else. “As long as this place doesn’t end up on an episode of Hotel Hell, I think it’d be a good investment. It’s such a great fortress too, and all the work I put into it with the Inquisition...” he trailed off, letting that speak for itself. Meaning, seemed a shame to let it all sit here, with no one to fully appreciate it. “Well, anyway, I can show you the tavern when we head back down? The gardens too, if you ever need herbs for anything.” “Hawke and Bela mentioned you practically built this place from ruins up?” Lina’s tongue clicked in thought, giving the Mage Tower a good, lasting look before they set to depart. Really, the castle looked fairly immaculate - in good shape, the sort of thing polished for royalty. Not to mention it appeared like it could house an entire army and from the sounds of it, it did. “I bet it’s weird, seeing it almost like a ghost town.” A part of history that was important, yet maybe didn’t feel the same because it lacked all the familiar souls that occupied it. There was a lot of emotional significance this place held, the sorceress could decipher that much - and he seemed proud of it, so why not show off an accomplishment from the dreams? Seriously. All Lina had to show for were craters, and an almost end-the-world scenario. A lot of burnt rubble, too. The bag was hoisted over her shoulder, and she rolled the sleeves of her buttoned blouse (they made feeding her gluttonous brat so much easier, as a side note) for a little more castle-ground exploration. “Hell yeah, though. Show me around s’more, but you might have to drag me out of here screaming and kicking.” “It was in disarray when we first arrived, yes. As we settled, I tried to incorporate a little bit of something from those who were a part of the Inquisition - decor choices and things to represent them,” Max replied, leading the way. He wasn’t too fond of the sign outside the tavern, which was a depiction of Andraste ‘saving’ the Inquisitor - for someone who became more and more separated of the idea of being the Herald of anything, as time went on, it just looked weird to him. But he supposed it was part of the medieval charm of the place. And medieval charm it had, in droves. Wood and stone and golden light peeking through cracks - Sera’s room in particular felt strangely empty without her here. The lush plants hanging from the ceiling and the thick, velvet drapes with the plump pillows seemed so lonely. When they arrived, he motioned to the plaque by the entrance. A place for all in service here, to rest, recoup, and persevere, though weighs the heart, remember best, your saving grace, the Herald's Rest. “Mostly it’s just chock-full of dwarven ale now, but....welcome,” Trevelyan snickered. “Seeing it like a ghost town really is weird. Everytime I come back it’s just...wow, pindrop. There even used be a bard in here regularly.” Ah, nostalgia trip, much? It wasn’t anything from her dreams but, still, it was all in an equivalent era - when the scent in the air was mostly the musk of the earth, the gifts and curses of nature, the wood and stone that built everything from ground up. Minus the shit, of course. Medieval times weren’t the most hygienic, for various reasons, and not to mention a popular method of transportation (as in, horses) liked to leave gifts behind that no one bothered to clean up. It was a nice walk around grounds misplaced in time, and it brought an odd feeling of missing something. Or someones, maybe - the Herald’s Rest looked like the sort of joint she and Gourry would hit up during the travels, eat the place empty and drink it dry, then fast forward to the bar brawls and damage they’d end up paying for the next morning. Maybe even get ganged up by trolls or demons; they always did have a habit of ruining meal time. “It’s so…” Lina’s auburn brows furrowed, spinning around to take in the entire view. “Authentic. I mean, obviously, of course, I don’t know how else to explain it. It’s from a different world but it still feels familiar, I guess?” Like she could spend the night and not feel so terribly out of place. “And quiet. I feel like one of the biggest contrasts of modern times and a time like all this takes place is noise - we’ve got cars, buzzing electricity, airplanes. But back then? Crickets, birds, hooves on the ground.” The flap of dragon wings, the screams of villages being slaughtered by beastmen… But the rest of nature was nice. “And the comforting sounds of indoor plumbing these days,” Trevelyan grinned. “But there’s definitely a lot more noise pollution in modern times. Even with all the workers here - all the merchants who set up stalls to sell their wares and everything, it was noise that all kind of just blended together.” It felt natural, it was really the only home Trevelyan had ever known. A home, and a place with a family, that he’d needed very badly. Though it was nice to work with someone who also dreamed of living in a more medieval world - they could commiserate about the differences. “I’ll show you the gardens - it’s kind of on the way out anyway,” he offered, turning to go. “They were another thing that I built up. I had to, because I crafted so many potions. So it was good to have the herbs available.” It was a lush place, the garden - he’d been working on it ever since Skyhold appeared. Having lost an arm, that kind of halted progress a little. But he was still diligent (perhaps stubborn) enough to come up here and, at the very least, scatter coffee grounds to make for a richer soil. Riiiight, considering the sound of a flushing toilet was non-existent in the less advanced times - in her dreams, sometimes magic was used for certain functions (a modified and lasting lighting spell for both outdoor and indoor lighting, sometimes taking the place of fire) but, honestly, there was nothing to make that entire ordeal, uh...you know, less gross. Lina would ask about the bathroom facilities later, though. A low whistle came before her words. “You did good with this one - you’ve got a lot going on here. I’m guessing some aren’t native to this world?” Herbalism and potion brewing weren’t her specialties, but she was at least familiar with some of the basics. “Any thought to bottling some of the excess and selling it to shops, maybe?” Romany might be interested - and she was always up for helping her future sister-in-law with new inventory. “Most aren’t of this world, no,” Max pointed them out as he showed Lina what they were. There were quite a bit but it was a decent-sized garden. “....Black Lotus, Deathroot - that one’s really rare, I remember traveling all over creation to get the seeds, Crystal Grace, also rare. I haven’t thought of selling any to shops, but that would be profitable, wouldn’t it? This one especially,” he nodded toward the aforementioned Crystal Grace. “It’s used for medicinal purposes but also revered for how beautiful the flowers are - they resemble crystal bells. And they even make this chiming sound in the breeze.” If you could cultivate them properly, that is. Some didn’t have the patience. “I guess having otherworldly herbs would really help a shop stand out too.” Not just anyone could say that Deathroot was in their stock supply. Definitely profitable, especially if he was the only one growing certain ones. Lina had a habit of viewing things with a merchant’s eye, though - an influence she’d blame on her parents in any world (business owners, and they didn’t like giving people discounts), and she guessed she could chalk it up to her time in arms dealing. “My sis-in-law runs one if you’re interested in selling them, and there’s a Guild a close friend started that could benefit from it too.” Which, if he’d sent some to the Guild’s way, he’d be compensated with government dollars - very early on she’d taken the reigns of overseeing finances of supplies while Zee was the face (much how their arrangement was with the magic shows), showing people around and being a helping hand. There’d been someone who was supplying herbs before, but apparently she was caught up with a stalker? Who knew nowadays. Crystal Grace caught those garnet eyes though - always seeking the more shiny things - and very gently, her finger touched the edge of a petal. “It is pretty.” Then a thought came. Lina’s face was suddenly a little sheepish. “Would you mind if I swiped one? Um, not for any real reason other than my baby would probably love looking at it.” Okay, so, mommy wanted to bring baby a flower when she got home. It wasn’t that silly, was it? It seemed like the sort of plant that’d fit well within her nursery too, but she had no idea what went behind properly cultivating these. Naturally, there wasn’t any way in hell Max could resist giving up Crystal Grace flowers for a baby. That was the sweetest thing, any Scrooge’s heart would melt at the idea - his own definitely did, and he was no Ebeneezer. “Of course,” he agreed, and went about clipping one of those flowers for Lina and wrapping it safely to-go. “I’ll write up a card for how to care for them, so you can get the most mileage from your crystal chimes. I’ve heard about the Guild too - “ There we go, flower all set and ready. It had a wet cloth wrapped around the bottom, to keep it from getting bone-dry on the way home. “I wouldn’t mind finally checking it out.” The Guild, that is. Took him long enough. “If they also need herbs I’d be happy to provide to them and also your sister-in-law’s place,” he added. Seemed like he’d need the extra money, especially if he was going to renovate Skyhold. Electricity and plumbing, here we come. Lina wasn’t ever one to look all yaaaaaaay about flowers, but, well. Motherhood change a person. It wasn’t an exaggeration when people said babies grew, literally, every day - the milestone of developments were coming too fast, and Amelia’s current obsession was looking at things. Not to mention she was just beginning to figure out what her hands could do, so introducing her to textures was a thing they were working on. So far her favorite thing was tangling her drooly fingers into mommy’s bright hair, but Crystal Grace would be a good distraction. It’d also give mommy a night without baby spit in her hair. “Thaaaaaank you,” she gleefully chimed, taking the plant. Tonight, the redhead would read to her daughter about lyrium while her bitty hands groped at flower - it was a good balance of mothering and research. “But sure, let me know. I can bring you by. Most people don’t have a safe place to work their mojo, so it’s there for that reason.” He couldn’t fault anyone for wanting to go to a safe place to ‘work their mojo,’ so that sounded like a nice idea. Usually magic ‘groups’ gave him a twitch or two, because he had those deeply rooted memories of growing up in the Circle, but this wasn’t anything like that. So it was fair to give them a chance. “You’re welcome,” Max chuckled, amused at the the sheer joy of receiving a rare flower. “I’ll be looking forward to the official tour, then. I’ll be sure to bring plenty of herbs and potions with me.” Trevelyan made them anyway, why not share? Synergy. What a beautiful thing. And working with other magic users also helped him get some of the spark back - something he so sorely needed after experiencing the loss of a limb. But he just had to hang on (pun intended), and maybe listen to a few of those Chantry slogans after all. Darkness before the dawn and all that - he’d make it through. |