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[ Politics and wars are one thing, but magic is quite another; some thirsts aren't slaked so easily by squabbling imps and gaudy fabric. Knowledge is power, and power is every wizard's disease.

Felix is far more rumpled than he'd like, and that hair won't unfrizz any time soon, but the words come calm as day: ]

It seems we've all been busy, so I suppose I ought to be brief.

Magic. If you'll indulge the melodramatic imagery, it's as myriad as a hydra's necks, and almost twice as difficult to pin down. Any sort of rigorous survey seems better left for days without a pounding headache. Perhaps instead, we might just speak.

Tell me what you know about magic. Stories, facts, vicious gossip if you're so disposed. Magic brought us each here, so let us be kind guests and oblige it the conversation.

[ He flashes a wide, tired smile. ]

Unfamiliarity is quite acceptable. I'd just like to hear it from you.

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[ Oh, good. There's the arrogance he's been missing. ]

Quite. However, smashing my way through the basic rhetoric of an introduction to spell mechanics won't tell me anything particularly interesting, here or in any realm. When we all sell the same lines, technique counts.

[ Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed -- or, well. Multiverse. Felix's mind finally seems to catch up with his mouth, and quite visibly he settles once more. Tipping his head to the left (the better to put Harry in view), he peers with plain curiousity. ]

Suppose you had to do something so simple as make a light. It doesn't have to last, but conventional means like a candle or lantern won't do, it must be magical. How would you go about it?

[ Felix may be trying rather badly to illustrate a point, but that doesn't mean he isn't interested in the answer. ]

[ Well, Harry can certainly appreciate the attitude. At least this guy doesn't come off as totally condescending like some of the folk he normally has to deal with. For right now, that is. ]

Really? Am I gonna be doing show-and-tell? I think being here might not be so bad if people actually want to know about magic at this point.

[ And then, without further ado, he reaches into his shirt for his silver pentacle necklace. Holding it out, he focuses his energy through the silver til it begins to shine with a blue-white light. ]

Like this. It all depends on your personality and well. How bright you are. [ Resisting puns? Not in his rulebook. ]

[ Finally, someone to talk to. He eyes the pentacle, amused, then flutters a dismissive hand. It's only half gesture; gaudy garnet rings encrust each garishly-tattooed finger, and light briefly in turn. He's smiling again now. ]

Precisely. The oldest trick in the book, correct? The first thing that any apprenctice learns. Raw energy is easy, all the more so with grounding channels. [ The light flickers out and Felix blinks, a little green flame dancing beside his propped chin. ] But conjured half a hundred ways, from a dozen different metaphors.

[ Red, now, then blue. The flame drifts into petals, a diamond, then a rough cariacture of -- uh. Is that supposed to be a bird? It's a bit more like a bat -- Felix seems to notice this. A pinched look steals over his face, and the light blinks out. He looks evenly to Harry. ]

We mediate magic through our own understanding of its use. I can think of little more valuable to its practice than exchanges of theory.

[ Well, that's a bit impressive by Harry's usual standards. It's not something out of the realm of possibility, but he usually just goes with what comes naturally to him. He tends to be as efficient as he can, so that means minimizing on details. ]

That's an elaborate way of putting it, but yeah. [ He nods. Though he has to say, some theories should probably remain unspoken, considering his previous encounters in the past few years. ]

But I can see your talents are different from mine. I'm a little bit more- unpredictable without a focus. [ Burn entire houses down, much? ]

[ Once vain, twice...shy...? No, that doesn't work. Still, Felix's ego needs regular feeding. Every morning and evening with the good dog chow. ]

I trust you succinct enough to compensate.

[ It's not an insult, it's not quite not. Felix bounces back into conversational tone as though he's never noticed. ]

There's no shame to using foci. Precision -- yes? Like a vane directing lightning. It's what the whole of Cabaline theory is based upon. [ And blood magic, but no sense in mentioning that just now. ] Ah, that is. The cabal of Marathat, my home. And your home, Messire -- ?

I guess that's one way of saying it. [ Hell, that's pretty spot on, actually - or so a lot of people in Harry's life would say. He tends to make up for his lack of grace with a whole lot of power- so foci are kind of necessary. ]

Dresden. Harry Dresden of a city called Chicago, where the Bulls are loved and the winter winds are liable to knock you off your feet. [ And freeze you half to death. ]

So a you're not using any sort of focus from what I can tell. Reminds me of my apprentice - she's good with with delicate stuff. Are you any good at veiling yourself?

A pleasure, Messire Dresden.

Felix Harrowgate of Melusine, where the coyotes steal children and the swamp drizzles all year. A lovely place for fevers, though I think we'd all prefer the beef.

[ Obviously Harry's talking about literal cows. Felix shakes his head, gestures vaguely to the room beyond. ]

Eusebian theory -- ah, that is, enemies of the state. I know a trick or two, but little more. [ He throws a curious, almost hungry look back to Harry. ] A specialty of hers?

[ Harry almost snorts. To be honest, he's willing to just let it slide as a reference to beef because he can agree with the sentiment. ]

I guess you could say that. I used to be able to barely understand the mechanics of them, but having to each her has kind of made it click more easily.

[ A pause to consider something. ]

Enemies of the state. You're saying the enemies of your home are the only ones hiding themselves?

I'm implying the wrong chain of consequence.

[ A wavering gesture. He still thinks Harry's talking about literally hiding, disguising magical signature or image. ]

Kekropia, where Eusebian theory is practiced, has been looking to invade Marathat for far longer than I've been alive. A cold war, with occasional unpleasant outbreaks of espionage and execution. [ And nearly burning down the city, but Harry doesn't need to know that. ] Both parties keep secrets; what I know of concealment was what little a defector was able to show me.

[ Felix adds, as something of an afterthought. ]

My partner. How long have you taught?

[ Harry listens, but he's pretty sure that a good 60-70% is going over his head. He's thinking how he'd prefer a cold war back home to what they've got now: waiting, the waiting for the hostilities with the Red Court to break out again- the slaughter of more wardens. A little bit of spying here and there, compared to that? He can't say he wouldn't choose that.

He startles a little, though at the question. He's clearly gotten dragged along by his train of thought. ]

Hm- oh, a couple of years now. I normally wouldn't have, but if I didn't step in, my now-student would have been executed for a mistake.

[ Felix can ramble for hours with only the barest audience, if he notices Harry’s inattention, he gives no outward sign.

Nor does the mention of Molly’s fate prompt any more than a sliver of surprise. Heresies, it seems, exist everywhere in their own fashion. ]

Admirable of you, [ And he does sound as though he means it. Felix leans in, propping a hand beneath his chin in interest. ] I’d call it astounding how little empathy the elder and wiser spare the young, but frankly, I’m not certain that it astounds anyone — least of all, those under the sanguette. How old is she, if I may?

Edited (iconsss) 2014-08-21 06:14 (UTC)

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