dorian pavus (redimere) wrote in wtnvgame, @ 2022-03-21 00:52:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !action/thread/log, -player: ashe, -player: emma, dragon age: dorian pavus, final fantasy: urianger augurelt |
The question of Thancred's current construction vexed Urianger sorely, and Urianger did not enjoy being vexed. As a child his insatiable curiosity had been thought amusing by his elders and aberrant by his peers, and as an adult it had served the Scion's needs well enough but won him few friends there either. His reputation had ever preceded him, that of the eccentric academic more at home amongst his tomes than with actual people, always lost in some fixation or other. Night Vale had offered a fresh start and...
... and here he was squandering it, mind wandering to how he might best obtain the aethersand necessary to craft the lenses he had invisioned (a crude approximation of his much-missed goggles, but one that should serve to answer the pressing question none the less), what the alternative might be if that proved a futile quest. It was not so very pressing, part of him argued - Thancred had shown no sign (thus far) of the malaise that had marked their latter days on the First - and perhaps it was that part which made him glance up from his notes at Dorian's approach, offering a faint and very-tired smile.
"I fear I will make for poor company."
"On the contrary, darling," he said fondly, settling a hand on Urianger's shoulder and glancing at the man's notes, "you are never poor company. But there is obviously something on your mind. And I am very good at...well, everything honestly, but creative problem solving is certainly on the list. If you wish to talk about it, I would be more than happy to help."
Case in point; the hand on his shoulder should by rights have rankled. The other Scions (excepting Moenbryda's irrepressible spirit) had long-since learned to respect his personal space least they earn a chastising rebuke. And yet he found his own hand resting atop Dorian's, his head inclined to not-quite-lean against the man's arm, his free hand gesturing to his myriad scribblings.
"This world hath yet no concept of aetherology; I needs must then reinvent the wheel e're I can begin to dream of even the simplest mammet." Urianger sighed. "Which would under better circumstances, and less dire need, be a welcome challenge...."
But then he might not have this and he wasn't sure he wanted to let go of whatever it was. Someone who was his intellectual equal. Someone who challenged him. Someone who made him want to be better. It was a heady thing and one he was uneager to lose. He wasn't stupid, of course. Urianger could disappear at any moment, as could he. But this was something for now and he was curious what it would become with time and patience.
He had never been a very patient man.
"Aetherology does not exist here," he said, "but other things do." He stepped away, hand flexing as if to hold on to the warmth of contact, and moved over to his bookshelf, pulling off a few volumes as he did so. "I have some tomes that could be of use. They largely deal with the Fade and the Veil, but I am of a mind that these things are not entirely divorced from your Lifestream and there is a chance that they could aid you in your work."
"I am swiftly accruing a debt I shall never hope to repay, my friend." he smiled, pushing himself to his feet and crossing to Dorian's side, angling himself so as to see the tomes being selected. "Have thy mages aught by which one might determine whether what they behold be of flesh or of spirit?"
Sharing books - sharing information - had always been his easiest means of connecting and communicating. It was why he had, both here and in Skyhold, set himself up in a library. There was a specific intimacy to this kind of exchange that was far more comfortable to him than other sorts.
"There are no debts between us," Dorian said, intending the words to come out with his usual bravado and cursing when they escaped with far more fondness than he was comfortable expressing. He cleared his throat, glancing down at the books. "Were that Cole would arrive here. He would be able to tell you. But...there are ways. And if there were not...well, that is what experimentation is for."
"Likewise, Y'shtola would know in an instant, were she here. Still, between we two lieth more than ample intellect to devise some manner by which aether might be perceived, be that by spellcraft or more prosaic means."
Another beat, and a half-smile tossed back Dorian's way. "No doubt this will all seem terribly foolish when it transpires there is naught amiss. Still, 'tis a caution I should have taken before now, and one we shall be glad of in time, I am certain."
But that was neither here nor there. "It wouldn't take much work to come up with a method of ascertaining such things," he said. "Spirit magic is an entire school of thought. And while traditional spirit magic might not meet your needs, I can think of some ways to adapt it." He grabbed some papers and a pen and began scribbling out thoughts and equations. "Might I ask what this is for? Just in case the work needs be adapted in a specific way."
He repositioned himself so as to see what he could of the scribblings - nothing so crass as leaning in, but his gaze darted across the page, attempting to follow the reasoning; there was something terribly exciting about seeing an idea forming, and a welcome academic challenge in trying to keep pace with Dorian. His own tone, therefore, had the slight edge of distraction, though when it came to the specifics of Thancred's dilemma more than a little concern bled in.
"Thancred's last memory ere he arriv'd here predates mine own; of our successful return to the Source is he entirely ignorant."
Oh. Yes. That would be a concern. He didn't know much of Thancred beyond that he used something called a gunblade and that he was a close friend of Urianger. Not that he had any issue with that. It was good that Urianger had people from his home to support him. A tall strapping friend with whom he shared an easy camaraderie. This was fine. While there was certainly a sense of connection between himself and Urianger - at least on his end - there were no promises between them. And he had no cause to be jealous of the man's friend.
"If that's the case," he said, "then we really ought ascertain whether he is of flesh or spirit sooner rather than later. I would not wish for you to lose a friend if there is anything I can do to aid you in fixing the problem." His thoughts turned briefly to Felix and how he wished there had been more he could do for his own friend. Perhaps, in this, he could make amends for that failure.
Why was it important Dorian understood this? For the same reason he found himself reminded of Moen when in his presence, no doubt. Which was to say he could not say and would not be pressed to do so.
His lip quirked in a wry smile. "Twice now hath he saved my life, and I his but once that he would recall. Thou knowest I assume how such things are, twixt brothers."
"Well then," he said, "all the more reason to solve this issue so that you might be on an even footing there."
It was late enough in the evening that Dorian had put his research away and was enjoying a glass of wine. Normally he might have spent the evening playing chess with Urianger - an occurrence that was becoming far too comfortable and common - but the elezen's brute friend had a fighting match so he would not be seeing him.
Which was fine. Really. He could enjoy some wine and light reading and it was fine. And, admittedly, it was nice to relax and not dress for company. He did have propriety to think about when Urianger was around.
Of course he wasn't expecting the door to open with a measure of urgency and his elezen friend to be in his room when he was half-dressed. He'd certainly had idle thoughts of such things, but generally they involved less panic.
Belting his robe closed, he set down his wine and crossed over to Urianger. "Are you quite alright my friend?"
It had been a pleasant enough evening before that - Urianger had never been one to follow the rise and fall of the Bloodsands' gladiators with more than a passing interest in spotting the next potential Raubahn rising to shake Ul'dahn politics, but Thancred had done passably-well, and he had not hated leveraging his strategic instincts to try and predict each fight's outcome. The slight twinge of disappointment at not seeing Dorian there to support Hawke was easily dismissed, the effort he had gone to selecting a new outfit driven by the night's import to Thancred and nothing else, clearly. This last part, however, he was substantially less fond of, the sensation of acute aether depletion not one he had missed. His chest heaving slightly, as if he had run a great distance, his skin pale and - most objectionable of all - his thoughts seeming to run through treacle.
"Dorian. Amicus. I-" A beat, as his brain caught up to what his eyes were seeing. Ah. He had intruded, clearly. He should not be here. He could likely make it back to the Resort if he truly put his mind to it. He half-turned - "Pray, forgive the intrusion. I shouldst-" - and stumbled, hand darting out to steady himself against the nearest surface.
"Do remember that I have wards on my rooms," he said. "If I did not want you here, you would not be here. Simple as that." He looked the elezen over with no small amount of concern. "You look quite pale, ama- amicus." He sighed, channeling a modified spell he had worked on, almost like a spirit wisp. It would restore Urianger for the moment. If he was unwell, he would still need rest, but it would do some good for him.
Guiding him over to the sofa in the corner of the room, he took a moment to appreciate the man's new robes. They suited him well. "A pity I was too busy to make the fights tonight," he said idly, helping Urianger to take a seat and sitting next to him so he could look him over. "Apparently I missed quite the pleasant sight. But you've brought it to me, so I suppose I cannot complain...save that you are clearly unwell." He brought a hand up, carefully and slowly to give Urianger space to object, to the other man's forehead. "What happened?"
(It was a joke. Clearly a joke. Sass took less brainpower than true wit, that was all)
His gaze met Dorian's as the other mage raised his hand, Urianger inclining his head slightly in permission before closing his eyes, letting out a long, bone-weary sigh. "The question of Thancred's corporeality, or lack thereof, hath been most definitively settled, and not in our favour."
"Then we can set aside the problem of answering that question," he said, "and focus on the problem of solving his aetheric issues." Simple at that. It was easy to go into work-mode as it were, but Dorian found himself hesitating. Not because he didn't want to help Urianger's friend, but because of the man next to him.
"I will do all in my power to aid you in this," he said gently, hand moving to Urianger's cheek to make the Elezen look at him. There was something terribly fragile about this moment. "But I would ask that you not drain yourself dry trying to protect him. You could have given him less of your aether. I just...I would hate to lose...our conversations."
"A night's rest, my friend, and all will be well; of my own limits am I far from ignorant." Urianger raised hand to pat Dorian's in what was intended to be a reassuring gesture, but in truth was rendered more than a little clumsy by his creeping exhaustion, the contact overlong as if he were reluctant to lose that connection (for clearly it was clumsiness and fatigue, and not an awareness of quite how fragile the moment had become, working through him; if his fingers should part slightly, as they sat, as if to interlace with those beneath, then that was mere coincidence too). "I would not leave thee so bereft."
His fingers entwined with Urianger's, fingertips brushing the other man's cheek as they sat suspended in the moment. "See that you don't," he said, the words soft but firm. "And to that end, you'll rest here tonight. I dare not think what trouble you'll get into left to your own whims."
That same resolve briefly entertained the idea of leaving, but the tremor in his free arm as it braced against the sofa in the beginnings of an attempt to rise put paid to the notion and he sank back, leaning (coincidentally, of course, as all things about this exchange were coincidental) into Dorian where he sat beside him as he admitted defeat. "I take it thou wilt brook no disagreement.... very well. I shall obey. This couch shouldst serve to grant more than ample comfort."
"I am a very stubborn man," Dorian said with a shrug. "One of my very few flaws." That was a lie. His flaws were abundant, but he was hardly going to point them out now. Getting to his feet, he helped Urianger up and led him up the stairs the the portion of the room that had his bed. "You should get some sleep," he said, "and replenish your aether."
As they reached the bed he glanced first to it, then to Dorian, brow furrowing. "Where wilt thou sleep, if I am here? Hast thou separate lodgings?"
"I decide what debts are owed to me," he said gently, "and there remain none. You cannot abuse that which I freely give."
Later he would think that he could have offered Urianger a guest room. The others would not mind, all things considered. But he wanted to keep him close, to know he was safe and well. "I had not planned on sleeping for some time," he said. "I was going to work for a while yet. So my bed is empty and you have need of it." He hesitated for the briefest moment. "It is truly no trouble. Please just get some rest."
Though it was phrased as a question, should Dorian respond he would be near-ignorant of it, sleep claiming him rapidly now he had settled somewhere warm and comfortable.
He hadn't meant to feel so much so quickly but there was something terribly compelling about Urianger. He knew his feelings were likely pointless, but knowing that didn't help.
Forcing himself to walk away lest he do something terribly stupid and selfish like lay down next to Urianger, he moved back down the stairs and to his desk, grabbing a few books as he did. He had a lot of work to do.
Oh.
A few moments taken to confirm that Amber continued her vigil over his foolish oaf of a best friend, wherever he may be, and Urianger rose, padding back downstairs with considerably more grace than he had ascended them. His voice was low, least Dorian had followed his own example and slumbered now on one of the various chairs or sofas, but laced with concern.
"Dorian? Hast thou slept at all, my friend?"
He almost didn't notice Urianger's presence, so focused was he on his work, but the quiet words caught his attention. He glanced at the clock, since the room lacked windows, and frowned. Was that the time then?
"Sleep is for people not on the cusp of a breakthrough," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "On a related note, I may have created a new cross-discipline of magic."
He crossed, therefore, to the man's side, lip quirking in a fond smile. "I suppose I shouldst expect nothing less... Wilt thou consent to share thy latest revelation?"
He had taken elements of spirit magic and blended them with bits of creation and necromancy and some of the foundational elements of rift magic to create something akin to aetheric manipulation. He had his own pet theories about the lifestream and the veil and how they might relate to one another and had incorporated that. He was of a mind that aether was not unlike the energy of the Fade and that by working with what he knew he could find a way to sustain Thancred's aetherial form.
It also had some fascinating implications for spirits outside of the Fade, but he had more work to do in that respect. "It isn't much," he said, getting to his feet and stretching his arms over his head as he adjusted to the change in position, "but I think it has some interesting potential."
"Thy modesty is exceeded only by thy intellect in its preposterousness, drom kerm." He retorted, relief clear in his tone, as he reviewed the proffered text. "We should be lost without thee."
"I highly doubt that you would ever be lost, amicus," he said, giving Urianger a small smile before crossing the room to make tea in the fireplace. "You are far too brilliant for that. I only hope that this will aid you and your friend."
"What does your Deck of Sixty tell you this day?" he asked as he added tea to the water. It seemed only polite to inquire.
He laughed, shaking his head as he poured the tea into two cups and crossed back over to Urianger, passing one to him. "No," he said. "I would not trouble you thusly. I asked only because I know it is of importance to you. How did you sleep?"
Taking the tea with a grateful nod in Dorian's direction, he cupped the vessel between his hands, enjoying the warmth as much as he would the taste. " 'tis no trouble, though I doubt thou wouldst find much merit in the augury." Rolling his shoulders slightly, he took a first sip, exhaling a satisfied half-sigh before responding. "'twas a truly bless'd repose; I regret that my presence hath deprived thee of so comfortable a resting place."
"I find merit in all that you do," he assured Urianger, hoping that he wasn't being dreadfully sentimental in saying so. He considered a moment, then decided that he may as well not overthink things. "I am glad you slept well. As it was, I wouldn't have slept either way. Too many thoughts to pen. But, if I had been struck with a sudden need for rest...the bed is big enough. I could have managed without intruding upon your space."
... and stopping short, as Dorian's decision not to overthink things crashed headlong into his own inability to do otherwise. He set the cup down carefully atop the adjacent desk. Paused to turn the handle to face himself. Tapped his fingers on the desktop for a few moments, before glancing to Dorian - "Well. Shouldst the occasion once more arrive - not that it should, for thou thyself hath commanded I exercise more caution henceforth, and I shall not disobey - thy presence would not be an unwelcome one."
So it was overwhelming when Urianger implied the opposite. That Dorian hadn't ruined everything between them with his careless words. "That is...good to know," he said, the words thick on his tongue. "I would so hate to ever be an unwelcome presence. I should probably sleep, else I'll be useless for our regular match later...if that is still agreeable to you. We can discuss our efforts with this problem while we play."