picknicking

[dark_light]

There's something unutterably pleasant about landing in a bit of woods in the middle of Nowhere, Manitoba, removing a sandwich and an apple from her backpack and having a picnic before she's ready to move on. She could eat in midair, but it makes it too likely that she'll drop something and find it unrecoverable.

Path's on her knee, and her cloudpine is propped up against the tree next to her.

Comments

[prodigal_miser]

He does! Eventually. He looks half dead and says absolutely nothing unless addressed, not even retrieving the oatmeal. Water. Tea. He has tea with him, but needs to retrieve water - he figures out the faucet in record time. Helpfully, he boils it himself with magic, half-dead enough to not be talkative but apparently fine for a quick spelling of getting the water to a boil. If Metis sees, he won't care in the slightest.

Then, he has tea. Adarin takes a deep breath after drinking some, and smiles at Isabella if she's present. "You made a portion of oatmeal for me, thank you."

[dark_light]

"You're welcome. We have loads of oats, it's no trouble."

[prodigal_miser]

"It was still nice," he points out, retrieving the food in question. Noms ensue. In between the tea. Tea's the really important part.

[dark_light]

"Yes, I know. Not being self-congratulatory about it is also nice," smirks Isabella.

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin snickers, "Aw, but it was such a good opportunity for being self-congratulatory."

[dark_light]

"But then you handed me a better one. Good things come to those who wait."

(Path flies into the room and lands on her shoulder.)

"I'll have a first draft of my spell ready in a couple hours, but even odds that I'll need to revise it."

[prodigal_miser]

Laughing some more, Adarin replies, "And I'm glad you took advantage of that one."

"I got reasonably far in my own spell. I've still got more to do, but I'll probably be able to do it faster with an alethiometer in front of me," he explains.

(Adarin's still nameless daemon lurks outside of the room. She enters, once her person isn't half-dead and tea deprived. She's still not mastered how to properly shadow Adarin without getting in the way.)

[dark_light]

Path hoots at her in a friendly sort of way.

[prodigal_miser]

She makes a friendly trill right back!

[dark_light]

"How does constructing a new spell work for you?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Well. For a Kystle-native spell, you have to understand every underlying factor of what you're going to do and be able to bring it up in conscious thought when you begin the spell. Saying things isn't technically necessary but missing one portion of what you're doing is incredibly dangerous," he explains. "So it's easier to mentally attach an entire set of actions to a single word. Like reminders of everything you need to remember to keep in mind as you go."

"I could say 'light' but I know that more than just light, I need it to act in a certain way and work with something else I'm dealing with. I have to acknowledge it and it's easier if I write it down, or work out a good reminder method so I give every necessary part of the spell the attention it needs to not go horrifically wrong."

[dark_light]

"Huh. There's four potential components to the practice of a witch spell and any combination of them can yield an effect if a witch does them. Verse, herbs, runes, and sacrifice. Verse in particular can go off by accident - when I was still going to mortal school I couldn't read verse aloud in any class on literature because something might have happened. The others we have to mean to do something."

[prodigal_miser]

"That sounds annoying, not being able to read verse aloud," says Adarin. "But that's very complicated. Though less memory intensive than my magic."

[dark_light]

"Some of the spells are very simple. Nursery rhymes, three ingredients I can mix up to fix a headache," shrugs Isabella. "They can get very involved, though."

[prodigal_miser]

"Oh, well. That sounds rather nice, then. I do think I'd want to see what it's like when a witch begins a larger spell. For curiosity, since you're going to see me spell something large-scare. Well. Magically large scale."

[dark_light]

"Sure, I'll let you watch when I put down the runes for my first draft and try my poem."

[prodigal_miser]

He smiles, then says, "Thank you. If you'd want to be there for when I do my spell, you're invited, as well."

[dark_light]

"Yes please!"

[prodigal_miser]

"Then feel free to watch."

[dark_light]

"Will do." Isabella eats the last of her oatmeal, then plunks her drafting notebook onto the kitchen table and starts working on it, Path whispering helpfully in her ear.

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin amuses himself with finishing oatmeal, then decides to clean up both oatmeal bowls (and Metis', if she expects Isabella to) simply because he's not sure if it's worth throwing several hours away to get something maybe right when he could wait a little while and get it right for sure. Besides, she made the oatmeal, it feels fair to him to clean it up.

[dark_light]

Isabella notes him cleaning up, and says "thanks", but then her attention is back on her spell.

[prodigal_miser]

"You're welcome," he replies, "Let me know when you're ready to begin your spell? I'll work on mine some more."

[dark_light]

"Sure."

Write write cross out page turn write flip back a few pages "hmmm" write write draw a circle and lots of arrows "hmm" flip forward a few pages write write.

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin goes to the attic and does much the same! His daemon follows and offers assistance, something he's realized is quite helpful in spell creation. Time would pass until Isabella lets him know she's ready.