ᴀʟᴛᴜs, ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇʀ, ᴍᴀɢɪsᴛᴇʀ (tevene) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-07-11 12:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: dorian pavus, ₴ inactive: hazel levesque |
WHO: Dorian & Hazel
WHAT: A bit of tutoring and helping her tap into her Necromancer skills by introducing her to some Thedosian magic and boooooks (and a skull)
WHERE: Skyhold, Mage Tower
WHEN: Idk today?
WARNINGS: Creepy shit
STATUS: Complete
Necromancers, in Dorian’s world, learned their craft in a very specific way - it was why the craft could not be thrown about like a toddler flinging toys in every direction. Would-be Necromancers were not taken under the wing of any old apprentice, studying side by side another within a dank lair filled with books, potions, and perfumed with the very earth itself. No, instead they created a relic which housed the soul of one already passed - this relic must pulse with power, speaking without words of the would-be Necromancer’s true intentions. A Death Mage was drawn to them if they were deemed worthy - the art, the craft of Necromancy was then spoken through the mouth of a polished skull in hushed whispers. He was familiar with the right incantations, the procedure, the propriety and the respect it had to be given - but also recognized that in Vallo, everyone’s magic was different, their worlds were different, and he really had to submit to the fact that he just didn’t know much of anything. Difficult to do, when one had dedicated their whole life to magic - could drive that person to drink, even. Heavily. But no, he wasn’t going to do that. Instead he had agreed to meet with Hazel to discuss her penchant for Necromancy - and they’d find a place to start. Together. Here in Skyhold’s mage tower, even. It was the perfect place to talk about magic or do some magic; the environment fit the bill, what with all the herbs hanging from the ceiling and scenting up the place, the deep aromas clinging to the inside and providing a contrast from the forest 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 - plenty of those books were what he’d studied once upon a time when he was first learning Necromancy. “Well, alright then,” he started cheerfully. “Go on and tell me about what you hope to get out of this?” This would go well. He had a good feeling. Hazel wasn’t new to Skyhold or the tunnels she sensed underground or the horses that lived in the stables. She knew a portion of the place by feeling. Necromancy, though, that had always been Nico’s forte. And her father’s. She could control skeletons when they were raised, so she was relatively sure that the obstacle of Necromancy was more a lack of understanding than a lack of ability. Some demigods just got different abilities from their parents. Will could do healing, but he wasn’t as good at music or archery (per his own admission). But she though, with dedication, both of them might manage to be better at the things they weren’t great at. Which meant that Hazel was going to dedicate herself in the next school year to magic and learning it. She was sure it would go well because well, she didn’t really have any other solid future life plans at 16 and she wasn’t sure she was going to have it figured out at 17, but the universe had a way of dropping one into something. The tower was different. It wasn’t somewhere she’d been before. “My…” She paused. “I’m not really sure if it’s ever going to be as strong as some of my other abilities, but given I am a child of Pluto, who is basically Hades, but Roman, I wanted to get stronger with Necromancy. Nico has raised entire skeleton armies to fight before. I can control skeletons once they’re up, but I’ve never been able to do anything like that. Not that I need to, necessarily, but then again, sometimes here you might need a small army. I don’t really know what all can be done with Necromancy that wouldn’t be a demigod sort of thing.” A beat. “I’ve honestly never had to think of Necromancy or most of my abilities outside of a general demigod lens.” “You never know when you might need to do anything around here,” Dorian concurred. Thus, it seemed smart to know and understand what you were capable of. “In my world, Necromancy is about connecting with spirits of death. Calling upon them for various spells, giving them a purpose in battle. I think that may be a good outlook? If you connect with the spirits, you can work with them to do essentially anything.” Of course, he was used to these spirits residing in the Fade - something of an afterlife, he supposed, where all spirits remained before moving elsewhere; it was also where mages drew power for their spells from, and they too maintained a connection with the Fade - they entered it when they dreamed, and fought off spirits looking for a fresh mind and body to possess. It was why sleep was precarious where he was from - a spirit would just love to possess the body of a Necromancer, and he was doing Fade battles nightly. One benefit about Vallo? No Fade - or rather, the Fade itself was quite small. Nascent, even. He drew upon the energy and thrum of magic within the island itself to cast - and much preferred it that way. “Now, you may be asking yourself - how do I connect with the spirits?” he posed the question. “We have a ritual we do in Thedas, when we’re first learning Necromancy if you’d like to try it - it helps the magic sink into your skin and it becomes easier to learn the spells and the runes.” That sounded simple enough. Or, well, not simple. It just made sense. She wasn’t entirely sure that’s how Nico managed it, but he wasn’t exactly there to explain it to her either. But maybe it was the same thing. Children of Hades and Pluto were, in a sense, connected to death through their father. In a loose way. Thanatos was the god of death. Their dad was just the lord of the Underworld and god of riches and the dead in that they came to him after death. “Oh. That’s...not exactly what I was expecting.” Spells and runes would make it more of a magic-based thing for her. But maybe in learning through magic, she would learn to tap into her demigod abilities. If not, then she had magic on her side for this. “Um. So what exactly is the ritual? I just want to make sure.” And after that, she could tackle the whole dyslexia thing. Cause she knew how things went when stuff wasn’t in Latin. “It’s not difficult,” Dorian assured. “I have everything here - you take the bloodstone and place it upon the Nevarran skull,” he motioned toward the gem which seemed to pulsate, glowing; bright red like, indeed, a stain of vitality. Fresh blood spilled. Necromancy was universally a macabre sort of thing - though he assumed Hazel wouldn’t shy away from that, given who her father was. He was also certain she could do this - she could do just about anything. “Then recite the words from this book. They’re in Tevene, which is - what I’m told - a version of Latin. You know that particular dead language, I presume?” Perhaps it was meant to be. The tome was ancient and weathered, and he cracked it open to the correct page, letting it sit upon its own stand for the sake of ease. “Let me just light some candles too - burn some incense.” He got all of that going with a twist of his hand, a brief inferno spell. The incense was funerary, of a sort, deep and heady - a lot of frankincense and myrrh, but Dorian found it helped him focus a little. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, or perhaps it just took him back to a time where he’d learned his specialty in the first place - the crackle of a fire, the scent of ozone and burning wood. “Though if you need assistance interpreting the words, I can do it and you can just repeat after me.” Hazel was, in fact, not afraid of death so much or most things that involved the Underworld or spirits. Having died once herself, she had been around the dead. She was careful to note that she would not allow herself to become Tarquin. She studied him for a moment. “I can read Latin. My brain is hardwired for it. It’s barely any work.” Being able to write and speak it, though, she’d had to work for. “If it’s a little off, then it might take a bit to read. I have dyslexia with anything that isn’t Latin.” She shrugged. Another demigod weirdness. She looked at the tome for a moment, trying to figure out how likely she would be able to read it. It didn’t seem terribly off, but she looked up. “Is the pronunciation the same as Latin or is it different. She didn’t want to say anything wrong. “Maybe read it once so I can make sure that I know if it sounds the way I think it reads?” “It’s the same, I believe,” Dorian assured. “Tevene essentially is Latin, just like Orlesian is ‘French’ - languages and countries are simply called different things in Thedas. It took some time for me to figure out how everything corresponded.” Interesting that Hazel had some kind of innate ability to read Latin, however - those demigod quirks were rather fascinating. That incense burned around them, smoke curling, thin coils - he could smell it, and was comforted by how familiar it was. It had been awhile since he’d gone through this ritual at all; his other Necromancy classes, at the University, were more about theories and the Death Mages in Nevarra called the Mortalitasi - though he also taught some spellwork too. “I’ll read it once then, as you wish,” he promised. The words in the ancient language of his homeland, he spoke them clearly - line by line. The dead who had fallen, I bid their forms to serve, and it was the turn of our foes to know fear. She nodded at his assurance regarding the language. Orlesian just sounded like New Orleans to her and she opened her mouth to comment that she knew for a fact that not all French was the same, but decided against it. She’d tried to speak with Frank once, but her knowledge of Louisiana French just didn’t line up with French in Canada. It was just really confusing. But it was probably not actually relevant or important to what was going on here. She listened as he spoke. It really was basically Latin. She wasn’t sure how that worked, but she guessed it was just one of those things. She nodded as she looked at the words again before reaching out for the bloodstone to set on the Navarran skull as instructed. She looked at the book again, reading the words that were on the page. When Hazel correctly placed the bloodstone onto the skull, and recited the words, something definitely happened - the room became awash in scented smoke and the sizzle of magic mixing into the air, and there was the presence of something other and pulled not from the Fade but from Vallo itself; a spirit, one who heard the call of these words and felt compelled to arrive on incense wisps and speak on the art of Necromancy. Magic sank in, locking into place. She had a penchant for Necromancy, clearly - and Dorian knew she would, given who her father was. If she hadn’t, however, the spirit wouldn’t have ever arrived - the ritual was also sort of like a test, to see if a mage would be able to learn the craft. Things were different in Vallo, but it was pleasing to know that most of it still worked similarly. “Ah, there we go - fantastic,” he coughed a little and waved a bit of the smoke away. “Now you’re officially a Necromancer - or well on your way to being one.” The change in the room after she’d done the ritual was fairly obvious. At least, her senses picked up on a lot of changes and that was, in part, demigod programming. It had taken being around other demigods to fully understand it. Or at least for them to ask about certain things for it to become a little more clear. “I was going to say that I don’t think I could really call myself a Necromancer just now.” She smiled though. That meant something had gone right. “So...now what?” It was always so inspiring - teaching, that is. Dorian found that he had a penchant for it, a knack, and it was something he felt called to do as well. Much more so than a life in politics - he had little desire to sit on the Magisterium in Tevinter (but only did so because, from his father’s former seat, he would be able to advocate for and act upon change that was sorely needed) and he had even less desire to go into politics in Vallo. Not during what was essentially a life of his own, his path wide open where he could choose the destination. No, he highly preferred his work with the University - also studying elemental magics with Sabrina and, now, Necromancy with Hazel. “Let’s work on some spells - more Latin,” he said cheerfully, flipping to a new page in the book. He would start off with the less complex spells which sort of built off each other anyway - Horror, Despair, Terror, and so forth. Then he’d teach her a few Siphoning spells next lesson, and eventually move onto one or two of the more complicated ones. Simulacrum, for example, which was a spirit in your own likeness ‘tagging in’ during a fight when the physical body was down and out. It was helpful because a spirit didn’t get injured or use energy the same way a flesh-and-blood meat suit did. “I’ll give you some books to take home too, so you can study the runes - but for now, we’ll begin with some simple spells. And whenever you need a break, just tell me.” Otherwise he could go on all day. Hazel nodded. She could handle more spells as long as things were in Latin. She’d just have to figure out the runes. She was sure she’d manage because she’d come this far. She didn’t really fully know what to expect, but she’d work through everything. “Okay. I might be a little slower with anything not Latin, but I’ve found work arounds that help me, so it should work.” She also had a spell to change her texts into Latin at work. “I haven’t pushed magic too much, so I don’t know too much about what I can do,” she said after a moment. “But if I need a break, I’ll tell you.” A beat. “Thank you again…for agreeing to help me.” “Of course,” Dorian nodded. “I’m happy to help.” It was true, oddly enough - he never really had a decent tutor, not in Tevinter. Though he would never forget Alexius, and they had broken the bounds of magic and discovered many new things and worked hard - but while the fellow had started out being a great help to him when he was younger and they got along splendidly, so much loss had driven him off the deep end. It was a tragic thing, his involvement with the Venatori and subsequent dangerous dabbling in time magic - his belief that he could rip apart the very fabric of time itself to get what he wanted. To save his son from the Blight sickness. It wouldn’t end up that way now - Dorian wouldn’t repeat the mistakes of his former mentor. His life here was fulfilling and he would just continue on with it, hoping for the best. Preparing for the worst, that is, while also hoping for the best. “Let’s continue,” he nodded toward the book, preparing to work at whatever pace Hazel desired - they’d get a lot done and he still had a good feeling about all of this anyway. |