[ closed ]

[latkje]

Who: Byerly (vorrutyer) & Nash (latkje)
What: Magic!
When: After the conclusion of the disease plot.
Where: On the road from Wyver to Olympia.
Warning(s): 504 Gateway Time-out

[ The road from Wyver to Olympia is well-travelled and well-packed, the long stretches of monotony preventing Nash from enjoying the landscape. Travel was supposed to bring variety, he thought, new sights, new sounds— not the same thing, over and over. It was hard to tell how far they'd come, at least in the physical sense. ]

At least we're done with that awful humidity. [ He runs a hand through his hair— short and wavy, it had gotten unruly in the heat. ] I have a northern constitution, if you didn't know. [ And a northern fashion sense, as Harmonian clothes tended toward the dour and conservative. Nash was also in the habit of wearing gloves. He's wearing them now, in fact. ] There are some things I just wasn't made for.

[ That hangs in the air a moment, then he turns to actually look at Byerly. ]

But you wanted to talk about magic.

Comments

[vorrutyer]

Vacancy of the mind?

[ By can't help but get a bit caught up in that part. ]

Please don't misinterpret this as flattery, dear maiden, but it doesn't seem as though you'd be good at the practice if that were required.

[latkje]

[ Flatly: ]

It was really hard. [ Probably the lessons he was worst at! School-age flashbacks, the horror the horror. ] But I told you I was a mediocre mage.

[vorrutyer]

So why did you learn it?

[latkje]

I wasn't presented with many "options" growing up.

[ And he hadn't thought to question things until it was too late. C'est la vie. ]

Perhaps milord can understand, being royalty.

[vorrutyer]

[ By taps the side of his nose. ]

Ah, but the obligations set upon royalty...They're learning to govern and struggle through diplomacy. To do what no one else can do. Weren't there others who could take on this mantle of spellcrafting and all that insanity from you?

[latkje]

I mean, sure… just about anybody can do magic. You could do it, Your Emperorliness— [ And then he looks By up and down. ]

Well, probably.

[vorrutyer]

Probably?

[latkje]

[ He shrugs. ]

Some people can't. [ Like Borus! He continues, perfectly angelic: ] Each of us has our own place and our own duties.

You'd need the right equipment, of course, which is currently a bit hard to come by. [ You know, with the world ending. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ By frowns, continuing on: ]

What makes those people incapable, exactly?

[latkje]

I don't know. Why are some people born without being able to tell red from green? [ The answer is, "a cosmic mystery." The answer is not genetics. ]

[vorrutyer]

Because it's a part of your genetics, of course. [ By looks at Nash expectantly, then realizes - Right. This fellow probably doesn't know any more about genetics than does the average backwoods prole. ] Does magic run in families?

[latkje]

[ He squints. First at the unfamiliar word, and then at the strange question. ]

Not in particular. Some Runes do, of course, like the Sun Rune and the Falenan royal family.

Are you concerned for the plight of the ill-bred underclasses, milord? [ Because that would be interesting. ] Second Class Citizens can use magic just fine. I would know.

[vorrutyer]

[ With a little bit of scorn in his voice - ]

Dear fellow, do I seem like the sort who would care for the underclasses? I'm simply trying to determine why it's so prevalent in your world and so utterly absent in mine.

[ And if it could be given to Barrayaran soldiers, so they'd have an edge over others. If any of his countrymen ever wake up, that is. ]

What's a rune, then?

[latkje]

Some would say that is the duty of all good princes. [ But ugh, more childhood schooling flashbacks, let's move on. ]

Runes are what let people use magic.

[vorrutyer]

So they simply -

[ By draws an arcane-ish symbol in the air. ]

And magic happens? And you needn't get haughty, dear maiden, I've never had the real power to help the proles.

[latkje]

I don't know, let me try it.

[ He mimics Byerly's gesture, and— nothing! Wow, treat yourself to this expression of mock surprise. ]

Huh.

[ Nash is certainly aware that Byerly is only recently and technically emperor. But: ] And yet here I am, a prole, helping you. [ Nash is also pretty sure that his "lowly peasant" routine is transparent— he hasn't bothered to use an underclass vocabulary, or pretended to be uneducated. But he's keenly aware that explaining all of this is a favor, and that all information has value. ]

[vorrutyer]

What a saucy little minx you are. I will be buying you a drink in thanks later.

[ By, indeed, doesn't believe for a second that Nash is anything less than middle-class; it actually does come as a bit of a surprise that the fellow is pretending otherwise. And so, with a slightly quirked eyebrow, he asks: ]

I must ask, largely as a side-note - have you spent a great deal of time fighting for prole rights?

[latkje]

We don't actually have proles where I come from. [ Third Class Citizens is the term. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ By shoots him a come-on-now-don't-be-coy look. ]

The equivalent of proles, then.

[latkje]

[ He glares for a second— he could be from a republic, after all. But then, he tilts his head, and relents, and says, in a voice without its usual incline. ]

Not as much as I should've, maybe. But I tried.

[ This is the truth, offered mostly because he is curious what Byerly will do with it. He has long reflected on the irony that being a Bishop's personal liar has gotten him more power to enact small kindnesses than he would've gotten as the head of his father's political party. ]

[vorrutyer]

Why?

[ It's not a question that holds contempt or dismissal. In spite of Byerly's pose of contempt for the proles, he doesn't actually hold any hostility towards them. To be fair, nor does he spend much time pondering their difficulties and travails, but he certainly doesn't think less of those who care for the lowest classes. It's just an odd thing to him. ]

I presume you weren't born in a position where you - hm - were encouraged to consider your own power and privilege.

[latkje]

[ He's been asked this before. He wasn't particularly good at answering then, either. ]

I think everyone considers their own power and privilege. Or their lack of it, as the case may be. At least they do in Harmonia. [ Certainly, this is very true about the Third Class Citizens he has met. ]

Anyway, I'm just a very helpful person. [ He holds up his left hand so that it's level with his face— he doesn't have to wave his hand in an arcane shape to cast a spell, just, well, vacate his mind. It's wind magic, so a breeze is one of the notable side effects, that and the blue sparks that swirl around his him.

This is a healing spell, so it heals whatever scrapes and bruises Byerly has managed to pick up. Also, lifts him off the ground briefly. That's fun. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ That gets a little cough of alarm. But by the time everything's settled back onto the ground again, By has put his suave mask back into place. ]

Dear heavens, how exciting. And spectacular. I assume all the lights are to make the non-magical sorts think all the more of you?

[latkje]

Yes, I had them put there to impress you in particular.

[ If he could turn them off, he would. Not very stealthy, magic. ]

[vorrutyer]

[ By stretches, appreciating the disappearance of his aches and pains. You're truly a mensch, Monsieur Clovis. ]

So was that your occupation, then? Going out and patching up beggars sick out on the streets?