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driftfleet2015-02-20 05:59 pm
lord_wizard) wrote in driftfleet2015-02-20 05:59 pm
Entry tags:
first labyrinth
Who: Felix Harrowgate
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva
When: 2/20, evening
[The fact that Felix remembers the past four years when he wakes up is the first indication he has that something has gone wrong. Normally the lack of memory loss would be a good thing, but he'd expected, given everything he'd learned, that life would resume as it had been the moment he'd left his own world. Of course, things had been a bit irregular near the end, and he'd had a strange hope that maybe he wouldn't forget.
The network station first records him sitting up in his cot, a man dressed in a rich burgundy coat reminiscent of eighteenth century nobility, his slightly curly red hair tied back with a ribbon. Fingers clad in gold and garnet rings brush first against his forehead, then at his chest where the necklace Ashura had given him still lay, then patting against his pocket where the Sibylline decidedly still wasn't.
As he takes in the open space and the void outside the sweeping windows, the expression on his face shifts smoothly from confusion, to shock, to a vivid anger. He sits up from his bed so quickly that it upends with a clatter]
No! No! [his shout is shrill, edging on hysterical, and much higher than might be expected out of him at first glance. He turns in place, as if looking for something or someone to direct this at instead of thin air, then settles at shouting at nothing]
Damn you, Paradisa! Is is really going to be one last trick? Haven't I served my time? Haven't I done enough?
[His eyes, vivid yellow and pale blue, find his communicator sitting on cot next to his, and he stalks over to pick it up a rather obvious air of contempt. His brows knit together in slight puzzlement amidst the storming anger]
What is this? [The fact that he actually knows the answer to that raises more questions] Is the journal not good enough for you any longer?
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva
When: 2/20, evening
[The fact that Felix remembers the past four years when he wakes up is the first indication he has that something has gone wrong. Normally the lack of memory loss would be a good thing, but he'd expected, given everything he'd learned, that life would resume as it had been the moment he'd left his own world. Of course, things had been a bit irregular near the end, and he'd had a strange hope that maybe he wouldn't forget.
The network station first records him sitting up in his cot, a man dressed in a rich burgundy coat reminiscent of eighteenth century nobility, his slightly curly red hair tied back with a ribbon. Fingers clad in gold and garnet rings brush first against his forehead, then at his chest where the necklace Ashura had given him still lay, then patting against his pocket where the Sibylline decidedly still wasn't.
As he takes in the open space and the void outside the sweeping windows, the expression on his face shifts smoothly from confusion, to shock, to a vivid anger. He sits up from his bed so quickly that it upends with a clatter]
No! No! [his shout is shrill, edging on hysterical, and much higher than might be expected out of him at first glance. He turns in place, as if looking for something or someone to direct this at instead of thin air, then settles at shouting at nothing]
Damn you, Paradisa! Is is really going to be one last trick? Haven't I served my time? Haven't I done enough?
[His eyes, vivid yellow and pale blue, find his communicator sitting on cot next to his, and he stalks over to pick it up a rather obvious air of contempt. His brows knit together in slight puzzlement amidst the storming anger]
What is this? [The fact that he actually knows the answer to that raises more questions] Is the journal not good enough for you any longer?
no subject
[Dorian feels distinctly homesick. Not simply because Tevinter is home, but because at least, for his magic, he was accepted. He was prided. It has been some time since he's found a peer to discuss magic with- Magister Alexius was the last one, and his son Felix with hm.
For a moment, he remembers Anders. There's a pang of regret that each mage that he has spoken with has been adverse to his magic. In Thedas, he could brush it off as Southern ignorance and misunderstanding, but here...most aren't even from Thedas, and here is a mage telling him that is magic is unacceptable.
Dorian nods softly, though he feels as if a distance that he can't control has come between them before they even knew each other.]
I suppose my reaction would be much the same if you declared yourself a user of blood magic.
no subject
[Some of what he knew skirted the bounds of it. He knew how the obligation de sang was cast, of example, from personal experience. But it was one thing to know and another to practice.
It isn't the necromancy the offends but what he does with it. Felix himself has been shown there's more than one way to approach his own magic. Maybe Dorian can benefit from a similar change in viewpoint.
Or they'll end up being enemies, but honestly that such a waste on a great many levels.]
I'm sure there is quite a bit we can learn from each other.
no subject
Indeed. I look forward to it, Felix.
Until then, do stay well. There is a shortage of attractive men where I would hate it if something were to take one from us.
no subject
That would be shame, wouldn't it?
I thank you for the welcome, regardless. I presume we'll have a chance to speak face to face at some point. [Hopefully when he's had a chance to lay his hackles. It's been a rough day]