I have a strong disrespect for authority and for rules. Including gravity.

[whathawksdo]

WHO: Hawke, D'Artagnan, Athos, Lucy
WHERE: The Farm, De Chima
WHEN: Sometime after the 6th
WHAT: In which D'Artagnan thinks he can fight a mage, complete with a peanut gallery on the sidelines.
WARNINGS: gravity vs musketeer


Ready?

[ Two reasons. Hawke was visiting the farm for two reasons. One, to pet horses. Two, to fight d'Artagnan. Not necessarily in that order, nor was the fight necessarily more than a sparring match, though she had the distinct feeling he didn't really know what he was getting himself into. In theory, he should. He's the only person up here who's actually seen her in action, though it could be he hasn't taken into account what the same forces she used against the walking dead could do the same -- if not worse -- damage to the living.

As such, she's gone ahead and taken her own precautions. The staff she brought with her isn't the intricate one she normally keeps at hand (partly due to still not having retrieved that one from a friend's safe-keeping). This one won't amplify anything. She can live with that. She also made a point to pick the overgrown field safely away from both the barn and the farmhouse for this, even if the uneven ground puts both of them on less than sure footing. She can live with that, too.

But back to the here and now, planning now put behind her, Hawke's taken to her end of the field, idly making sure the thick metal wiring she's wrapped around the ends of her stand-in staff are still secure while she waits. ]

Come on. [ She's the one who doesn't look ready, actually, the way she's fiddling with her weapon of choice like that. She didn't even turn up in anything even remotely protective, just her preferred tank-top, jeans, and a smile far too friendly to be trusted. ] We don't have all day, d'Artagnan.

Comments

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan shrugs, accepting that. Personally, he's glad it was short-lived. that's about the best thing he can say about it.

Her words make him approach with interest, though. Making shot for everyone hadn't even crossed his mind, since he hasn't even been able to manage it effectively for one. But he has to admit, she's right. He'd have to hold the musket ball in existence for long enough to prep the gun, never mind maintaining it while it was shot. He wipes his sword off against his leg, his expression thoughtful. ]

I don't know if I can. I've never tried; I've never been able to command this well at all.

I'd like to. It would be useful for more reason than one. I don't know where to start.

[whathawksdo]

[ Looks like the match is over. Maybe just on hold. Who knows. Perhaps that's for the best, though, lest Hawke actually end up skewered by a real, actual unintentional rain of swords, because, really, that could be effective at stopping her. ]

No one commands any sort of power well when they first start out.

[ And what the Porter hands out isn't unlike the grab-bag of abilities that Hedge Mages develop, back home. Something that can be worked on, even if it's unconventional. ]

Have you tried attaching a memory to an emotion, one you can call up whenever you want to summon something? That may be easier to hold in mind over whatever else you're feeling at the time.

[mousquetaire]

A memory.

[ From the tone of his voice it's clear that he hasn't. Mostly, he has been doing what d'Artagnan does best; reacting to what happens around him, generally with anger, and then letting it fuel him for as long as it can. The only difference is that now it's fuelling his magical weapons, too. ]

I haven't. You think that would work? Is that how you control your -

[ He gestures, making a vague and very bad imitation of the movements she'd made to cast that prison spell. ]

- thing?

[whathawksdo]

[ The bad imitation earns a chuckle. ]

No. Not anymore.

[ Hawke finally moves on, dropping her hand back to her side and turning to go over and retrieve her staff. She may as well hold onto it, seeing how using her real one against someone like d'Artagnan would never truly be fair. At least, not until he figured out how to best a mage.

Then she might go all out, but only then. ]

Magic's as easy as breathing to me. [ She turns back towards him, resting the staff against a shoulder as she does. ] But that's because I've been at it for twenty-four years now. A particularly strong emotion can fuel how powerful something I cast is, although that's poor practice for a mage.

[mousquetaire]

[ Twenty four years. That’s as long as d’Artagnan has been alive; needless to say, he doesn’t want to have to take that long to get comfortable with his powers. He looks thoughtful. ]

My powers are based on feeling. I’ve always known that; the other one is even more so.

Is that what you’d recommend, fixing on a memory instead of something I feel now? I won’t lie, I want to control this, Hawke. It would help both Athos and I if we could rely on what I summon.

[whathawksdo]

[ She doesn't suspect it'll take that long, unless he's incredibly unlucky. Staff back in hand, she plants one end of it against the ground once more and leans on it idly as they talk. ]

No, not just any memory. A memory either connected to a feeling or the weapon you want. Both, is possible. Do you have any particularly strong ones connected to a sword or a gun or what have you?

[mousquetaire]

[ D’Artagnan shrugs his shoulders. There’s plenty of those, more than he could count. These are the weapons he uses all the time, and it’s rare that he ever uses them with detachment. ]

Many. With my sword, especially. It killed the man who killed my father, and the one who destroyed our farm. And the traitor who would have killed my wife, and friend.

[ But that’s the sword he already has, the one at his side. He folds his arms, thoughtful. ]

You think I could use them as…as fuel, for this power?

[whathawksdo]

Something like that, yes, but the memory would act more like a focus for it. Do you only have angry ones?

[ Hawke asks that with a curious tilt of her head. Considering weapons are involved, it wouldn't be surprising, but still worth asking. ]

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan tilts his head, curious. That's a point he's never really considered. ]

So far, yes. Swords appear when I lose my temper, that sort of thing.

[ A beat. ]

When I'm frustrated, too, I suppose.

[whathawksdo]

[ Some food for thought, then. ]

Well. [ And she'll pull the staff back up off the ground, balancing it against one shoulder instead, before crossing the field back over to him. In particular so she can pat him on the shoulder, almost as if consoling him. ] Next time you're getting your ass handed to you by me, try keeping one specific memory in mind and see if you do any better.

[mousquetaire]

[ That almost seems innocent.

Almost.

Until she says that, and d'Artagnan shoves her hand off. ]

That is not funny. And I held my own. [ Not really. ]

Your magic is impressive, I'll grant that. I didn't know you could do half of what you did.

[whathawksdo]

[ She probably shouldn't laugh at that, but she does, holding up the hand he had just shoved off up and spreading her fingers. One of those "okay, okay" gestures, meant to placate. ]

Oh, don't take it so seriously. Now you do know. At least some of it. Just don't expect me to put up an entire list of my spells anytime soon.

[mousquetaire]

[ He looks at her with sudden interest. ]

How many of them are there?

[ Is this a finite list? She seems fairly omnipotent to him, so far. ]

I thought you were restricted to setting things on fire and collapsing caves, but clearly, I was wrong.

[whathawksdo]

There's enough.

[ Didn't she just said she wasn't providing a list? Keep up, d'Artagnan! ]

Mind you, I don't practice every discipline. I don't have a knack for, say, healing or necromancy or... well, I'm sure you get the idea. There's a lot that can be done with magic, far more than tearing up walls and setting fire.

[mousquetaire]

After that, I believe it.

[ He hesitates, considering her, and wearing the sort of expression that means he’s thinking. This is usually a bad sign. ]

What I do. I don’t know if it’s magic, but I know it uses feeling. And you know how to channel that. You can control it.

Could you teach me? It is possible?

didn't she just said, wow can i write...

[whathawksdo]

Maybe a little like hedge magic, but...

[ Even Hawke isn't sure what the porter hands out to people. Is it magic? It very well could be. ]

It isn't entirely unlike trying to cast a spell. Only you're creating weapons, not fire or lightning.

[ Yes, she can do lightning. In any case, she does shift her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortably. Uncertainty isn't something she cares to show often, but with this, the pause she gives it is obvious.

Advice is one thing, but teaching? Her? ]

Well. It's not as though it'd be an apprenticeship, so... I... suppose I could try.

[mousquetaire]

[ Well, who else would he ask? It’s not everyone d’Artagnan would be comfortable with, and she just proved her mettle by shoving him into the mud. That’s what his other teachers have in common.

Anyway, he trusts her, and that’s the most important thing. ]

You know more about it than anyone else I know. If you’d try, I know it would help me.

[whathawksdo]

[ Shoving d'Artagnan into the mud is how to earn his respect. Duly noted. ]

Then try I will. Besides, I like it well enough out here. It'd be a good excuse to visit.

[ Cities are only so much fun until everything catches fire and ends up flooded with fear toxin. Not as much of a worry out here, right? Anyway, she nods towards where Lucy and Athos stand, off over by the fence. ]

We may as well go join your adoring fans over there, if we're done here for now.

[mousquetaire]

You know you don’t actually need an excuse to visit here.

[ She would always be welcome. The only thing d’Artagnan dislikes about living out here is that there’s fewer people. He’d gotten used to the buzz of Paris. ]

But thank you. I’ll go and see what pride I can salvage, I suppose.

[whathawksdo]

Perhaps not, but this isn't a welcome I care to wear out too quickly.

[ Or to have it end poorly, in fire, or worse. Of all the places chaos tend to follow her, that's something she'd rather spare a quiet little farm. ]

And I wouldn't worry too much about your pride. Your friend Athos wouldn't have fared any better, trust me.

[mousquetaire]

No. But he'd probably not have said he could.

[ On a normal day, anyway. Athos does have his moments of ill temper. ]

We'll see. Thank you for the lesson, Hawke.