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For those that might be interested, I have through considerable effort figured out how to tweak these devices into allowing the display of color video and images beyond sepia.

[There is a steady tap tap tap, like a claw on metal.]

Which I would demonstrate, save that this is a physical change to the device and requires me to put in several very small items to function. Thus if you have interest in seeing each other in color, I can be found at the Second Time's The Charm shop, which sells these communicators, for the next several days. Make an appointment. As I am generous, I will not charge for my considerable time and efforts in this, though I will not refuse donations. You will have to turn your device over to me for a bell or so, there's no way around it. If you refuse, you may purchase another, I can update that one, and you may turn in your old one for recycling.

Technically I can't refuse anyone who asks for my aid. But if you are rude, violent, or otherwise not on good behavior something unpleasant may happen to your device while my talons are in its guts. Try to at least feign civility.

[OOC: The first watch update is here, IN LIVING COLOR. Lahabrea absolutely must get his hands on a watch in order to upgrade it. While this interaction can be handwaved!! you may also come visit Lahabrea and have it done in person for delicious CR! He won't refuse anyone, and he'll take into account rude people at least making an effort at being polite. Upgrades are freeeee! Make an appointment (in this thread or inboxes or etc I don't mind~) and come get your color upgrade!

Although he didn't mention it in this notice, he's willing to teach others how to do this as well, so other people can do upgrades! If you're interested, find an excuse to ask him! I welcome any and all assistance; the more hands I get the faster I can do future upgrades too!]

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[Hey it's this Faun!

He's less enthusiastic than usual.]

Would this be necessary if one wanted to send images in color, too?

[Since it certainly doesn't matter whether his watch can receive them...]

Yes, it would require the same internal rebuild. Unfortunately the baseline device simply doesn't come with the things needed to receive or send any color but sepia.

.... May I ask what you wish to take pictures of?

I'll bring it along to you, then.

[Pause. Then, almost a little shyly,] My garden, mostly. It would be useful to have pictures of some of it, to share with others.

[Don't ask him how he plans to get good ones, he only barely has an idea how the camera works.]

Of course. Can you find your way here on your own?

[Pictures of a garden. That's going to require some assistance from others, but there's no harm in it.]

I wonder if there might be some variant of spellcraft or magitech that might be able to even in the short term restore your sight. It would certainly make pictures a much easier thing to take.

It's Second Time's the Charm? I can. [Albeit with his usual methods of inquiring of passers-by if he thinks he's gotten lost, but!] I've been in the neighborhood before.

[Then a pause.]

Truth be told, messere, I haven't inquired. Nor has anyone offered. There might be.

[His tone is very neutral, as it gets when he knows he'd be strongly emotional about something if he let himself be.]

If you've time now, I can be there in a few minutes.

It is indeed.

[There's a stretch of silence as he weighs carefully what that tone was supposed to convey. Interest? A lack of such, and too polite to say so?

Something to determine later.]

I do. The process has been slow, I expected more Mirrorbound to be keenly interested but so far it has been a mere handful and a few of the city's upperclass who are seeing it as a new way to lord their wealth and connections over others.

[A huff.]

[Worse than that: The shame of someone who is very, very interested but afraid to be disappointed by hoping for something he'd been told was impossible back home.

And, maybe, who also thought he deserved what had happened to him.]

...As would I expect them to be more interested. I've--gotten the impression, [faintly embarrassed,] after my own adventure with it that most of them are sending their pictures over the watches when they're talking. Aren't they?

[And why not take advantage of colors in that case? Especially since some of those people seemed especially keen to show off...]

I'm on my way, then.

[It really does only take him a few minutes to arrive after that, led on by his wormipede. He cuts a surprisingly somber figure, dressed all in black that contrasts sharply with his white fur and missing his antlers with all their jingling charms.

He finds the front door without much trouble--Crookytail helps there--and eases just inside. This is not a shop he's been in before, so orienting himself takes a moment.]

Messere Lahabrea?

Edited (minor text changes) 2021-04-13 16:39 (UTC)

Sometimes. I prefer not to, but others almost exclusively. Often it is audio or text alone. ...Mm, I suppose that can be addressed when you arrive.

[And can certainly wait. All of it. Even if some things needed discussing, why not in person? Less people to overhear, and work to be done to keep his hands occupied. A more ideal arrangement, as far as Lahabrea is concerned.

As the door opens and ... a giant. fuzzy worm. alongside Myr enters, the dragon considers this for a long, looong unblinking moment, his expression of disbelief unseen but mirrored by the clerk behind the counter.]

Turn to your right and take five steps forward. There will be a chair slightly to your left. Your choice of clothing is a bit more proper than usual, is it not?

[A tiny bit closer to how he thought people should dress!]

..Yon pet is housebroken, I hope.

[The giant fuzzy worm in question takes a moment to sweep out her environs with her antennae before turning toward Lahabrea. Either she knows what a chair is for, or has enough of a vocabulary to parse the instructions the Ascian gives, because she's right beside Myr as he turns toward it and gives him a subtle nudge in the right direction once he's reached it.

He reaches out to take said chair and drop gratefully into it, before sparing the wormipede a pat on the back for the help. She accepts it as due, before coiling up in a surprisingly compact bundle around and behind the back legs of the chair.]

Thank you, [he says aloud to Lahabrea,] and she is; we already saw to that on the way over so she'll be all right for the next few hours.

[The...matter of his clothing, though, takes him a moment to process and connect with his dream-images of the Ascian in his black robes.] I--suppose it is. The right color, at least. One of my Bonded returned through the mirrors.

[He's in mourning. But better not to dwell on that.

He digs out his watch to avoid doing that very dwelling, then rummages through another pocket to locate several paper cune notes, each meticulously folded into a shape specific to its denomination. He offers the handful in the direction of Lahabrea's voice, wincing faintly as he brushes knuckles against the desk. Oops.

The money is a far more generous donation than might be strictly sensible but what's the point of money if you can't throw bunches of it at other people for good causes!]

Here, and for your time and efforts in doing this.

[A cleverer beast than it looks like. Neither Lahabrea nor the clerk can quite stop goggling for several long minutes; neither one had been to the underground city, and this is news to both of them. The dragon glances at the clerk, who gives a helpless shrug.

Honestly the topic of someone disappearing through their mirror is a sight less surprising, that at least he knew how to contend with. Loss - and with it the fear that said Bond might well be genuinely dead, ceasing to exist upon their 'return home'.]

... I see. How unfortunate.

[In anyone else that might be quite callous and unfriendly, 'Oh my partner may be dead now' 'Aw that's too bad'. but somehow it ... isn't. Not with Lahabrea, not without any trace of sarcasm or derision in his tone. It's not quite empathy, he couldn't quite accept the idea that a mortal might feel as deeply or strongly as an Ascian but even beasts grieved.]

That is a fair bit more than a donation. Keep half, at least.

[He's not greedy for cunes - now had Myr certain delicate jewelries that piqued dragonish interest there would be ZERO HESITATION, but this is different. He might be a master at his chosen crafts, and had been for countless eons, but payment from someone who couldn't even enjoy the fruits of such efforts?

No. That sat strangely in his mind.]

I will however take the device. This generally takes me about forty-five minutes, it is ... fragile work. I must venture to risk rudeness - earlier, my question on local magics or technology to aid your vision, your tone altered, and I could not tell if it was something worth pursuing or something you may take offense at. Clarify.

[Crookytail has adapted gracefully to her role as a dwarf wormipede ambassador, which is to say: She mostly naps and looks cute(???) when Myr doesn't need her, and otherwise is a very strange-looking guide dog, and doesn't have to think about any of that very much. Weird stares? All in a day's job.

Lahabrea's quiet comment is...it helps, oddly enough, in its simplicity. Instinctively or otherwise, Myr has adapted to the gap of experience between them and had not expected any form of comment on his condition. To have it so-acknowledged eases a little of the burden.]

Thank you, messere. I've...been thinking on what you said, last month. It's been a comfort; I know his own gods were mindful of his soul and came from another world to his, so I trust...they've paying attention.

[And some of them, Arthur especially, seemed like they'd be delighted to have a second copy of Everett around to look after--if that's how it worked out.

It eases some of the hurt to think of it that way.]

Oh-- [All right, then. He accepts the wad of cash back, carding through it to split it roughly in half by value; half returns to his satchel, and the other's set just on the edge of the desk.

Maybe if he thinks of it he'll turn up a nice piece of jewelry to mysteriously gift Lahabrea in the coming days. He does know Dragons, after all... And the thanks would be for more than the watch upgrade.

He's busy enough considering that, and nodding along with Lahabrea's assessment of how long it would take, that the question catches entirely off-balance. If he could blink, he would; as it is he sits there in a mild form of shock, the usual casual twitching of his ears suddenly still.]

Ah. It--not offense at all, messere. [Maker, how does he explain this. He cheeks actually color faintly with shame.] I--haven't asked because I didn't want to get my hopes up. It wouldn't have been possible, back home. To my knowledge.

[A longer pause, and more quietly,] And here it might involve blood magic, and I wouldn't...want to be tempted that way. For something I--

[...No, he can't complete that sentence, even if he knows leaving it hanging may get another question. He angles his chin toward his chest and rounds his shoulders, taking a moment to gather himself.] --forgive me. I--can't explain. All my reasoning on that.

And yet I am sure it removes not the pain much. As cruel as it is to say, on occasion well glad am I that there are so few left of my people to lose, to not have to bear it again.

[And how much more intensely that loss, when it isn't mere years or decades in the losing, but millenia! It doesn't much bear dwelling on for either of them, it still ached if he weighed it too long even if he didn't get quite as maudlin as Emet-Selch could about it, and so fresh, even for a mortal.. no.

There are other times and other places.]

This is the second time you've spoken of being shy of blood magic.

[He remembered. It hadn't struck him as terribly important, but things that were repeated had to have some deep seated cause to it. There's a brief scrape of chair and rustle of cloth, and the sound of steps approaching before there's a touch on Myr's shoulder to warn his presence is there - would he bother if it were anyone else?

... Maybe. The blindness thing, through no fault of his own, made certain requests harder.]

Your device.

[As it's already in Myr's hands, he'll pluck it away without further ado, there's work to be done!]

No magic is inherently evil or abhorrent, merely what people do with it. Sorcery based on blood, life and the power within is no different, save that it is easier to do vile things with it as one may rely on someone else's aether to do it, instead of their own. I have had little interest in the art, it is ... vulgar in comparison to what came before it, but it itself is not innately corrupting. Merely ... leaning on the worse natures of mortals, who have no driving instinct towards generosity to keep them in line.

[It's said matter-of-factly, as if that's just how it is and everyone knew it.]

In mine own world the origins of it were merely a way to focus power and intent upon a working, for the blood of the sorcerer would maintain its desired result even after being bled out. Were ... say, your mate if you have one, to use his or her own blood to enchant an item of protection, and throughout the work maintain that goal in mind, from concept to wounding to completion and then give it to you, the power would be far, far greater than simply plucking an urchin off the street and bathing their spell in strangers' blood. The former is a will to see safety imbedded even in the very components of the spellcraft, the latter terror and fear and pain at the end instead. But it is ... in a way, free power.. and thus how it is used, for those who know not the meaning of true willing sacrifice and the might it brings to bear.

[OH NO A LECTURE. One that ends quite suddenly, it seems.]

...Besides which I use mine own blood in this very craftsmanship, else the crystals I use would shatter upon activation. If blood is abhorrent by its very existence as part of a work..

No, [Myr likewise acknowledges. It doesn't help very much, but a little bit is something and gratitude is engrained in his bones. Gratitude and--odd sympathy, in this case, though his own grief is doubtless a spark against an Ascian bonfire.

But let that be. He surrenders his watch without complaint as it's taken, and settle back in the chair for...

A wholly unexpected lecture?

His expression goes from a general downcast look to one of puzzlement to...very visible restraint, as his ears flick back and he bites his lower lip. The fur on his neck is even fluffed out, and no doubt he smells irritated to a Dragon's sharp senses, but--he is listening. He's still enough a student to respond to a teacher, and pay attention to what he's being taught, even if he vehemently disagrees with it.

Even if some of his time is spent trying, and failing, to think up a scything rebuttal to Lahabrea's explanation. An orderly argument based on Thedosian principles of nature, which didn't and hadn't ever held for the Ascian's world (his star) any more than they had for Talam, would fall flat. Arguing from the Maker's fiat was also a non-starter with something near-godlike, who'd already critiqued Myr's Creator in the past.

So, instead, perhaps it's easier to simply explain his own reluctance. He breathes out slowly.]

I--for the case of the watch, I don't object to you using your own blood as material for it. It...sits oddly with me, I'll confess, but I know it's in a Dragon's nature to grant boons that way.

[But as for the rest...]

I've made no study of blood magic beyond what we're all told about its evils, messere. I don't know how intent bears on use or whether willing or unwilling blood matters--though the very greatest atrocity committed in history used the blood of tortured slaves. [Thus there was a certain evil echo about the whole practice that he and any other Andrastian picked up nearly with mother's milk.] But I do know that any use of it weakens the Veil and brings the Fade closer to the waking world, and with it a threat that demons might cross. Even if they're no more than predators, rather than willing evils--blood magic puts anyone near it at risk.

And, [a sigh,] the one use of it the Chantry does authorize is--contentious. A mage's blood can always be used to find her, so in the Circles--where I was raised and trained--they make phylacteries from us, against the chance of our escape.

[While he'd oft defended the practice against Libertarian arguments, good Chantry boy that he was, he'd never done it whole-heartedly. It still felt wrong. It would always feel wrong, even if he could tell himself it was because of a contravention of the ban on blood magic rather than the hold it gave the Templar Order over them.]

Know because you have been told so, or know because you have actively observed it? Felt its true long-term effects, instead of the works of the cruel and small-minded?

[That's a tiny, tiny wrench that is waggled, but Myr can't see it to know it's being waggled at him.

But it is.]

Power is power, and cannot be inherently evil by its nature. The flawed nature of mortals, however, can turn even a hearthfire into an all-consuming inferno. Would your god truly deliberately create something malignant, just for ... what, entertainment? Blood is natural and shaped by your divinity, magic is natural and likewise. I do not say use it yourself! But call a volcano or windstorm evil as quickly, for proper comparisons.

[There's a brief pause, and his tone turns doubtful.]

Mm, no, then again your god did create an entire race and then condemn them for not doing something He never asked them to do, so mayhap He did create tainted power and turn it loose in the world just to see what would happen. In which case, I do apologize.

I've felt what a death does to the Veil, messere. I can believe those who say blood magic causes it greater damage still--even if I'd never the misfortune to meet a blood mage myself.

[Was it nevertheless possible that blood magic really didn't do any of the things attributed to it? Myr at least isn't visibly horrified by the intimation. He can entertain the idea in the abstract, even while not doubting the evidence of his own experience in the least.

A thoughtful little noise meets Lahabrea's analogy to nature, and Myr holds up a finger as if he'd interject-- Only to give a huffing little laugh at what, probably, he should consider blasphemy but he's merely come to expect in their conversations.]

I don't believe He did, at that--create spirits simply for the sake of condemning them, though I auger I won't know what the story should be until I meet Him. [Which a small clamoring part of worries he will not ever, doomed to whatever passes for an afterlife in Aefenglom. But let it bide.] But as regards blood magic--you've a point, I think, that the power residing in our blood must be a natural thing the Maker intended.

But just as a man might utter blasphemy with the tongue the Maker's given him, or murder the innocent with his hands, he sins when he spills blood for magic. And, maybe--[he's wise enough to sense the natural objection,] that means there is a way that He intended us to use it rightly, but the Chant and the Chantry alike say nothing of it now.

The Chant and Chantry neglect much, from what little I have heard of it. The decrees written by those who measure their lives in a mere sixty to eighty decades must by necessity be shaped by their very narrow views. Even putting their thoughts to writing immediately subjects it all to interpretation, and when it is used as a method to control a populace, the most powerful have every reason to create restrictions.

[He works on. There's sounds to mark it, little taps and clicks and occasional static zaps, the faint smell of ozone and more. This isn't a subject he is so deeply invested in that it draws his attention from what he's doing, it seems.

Which may, or may not, be for the best.]

Supposing such methods as using the aether in blood for varying purposes, you do have naught but the say-so of others, others invested in maintaining their control, mind you, that it must be inherently sinful. Surely they would be invested in keeping such secrets to themselves. Few mortals indeed have true altruism at their hearts, and fewer yet if they hold power over others. Tis a problem children have, that oft outgrow by their third or fourth century.

[Mortals simply didn't have the time.]

Mind you, I did not say your Creator shaped a peoples specifically TO condemn them, merely that He shaped them, then condemned them.

[This is enough like discussing (arguing, really) the Chant with Vandelin that it gets a weird, nostalgic little smile out of Myr.]

All that you say is true, messere, and the Chantry's motive behind the ban could have nothing to do with blood magic being harmful per se. Although I will say it is not only through their graces that we know about it; even in my lifetime, two Circles were riven by its use, and we heard from their survivors through our own channels that are less--mm--subject to Chantry censors.

[Defensive as he was of his faith, Myr does not see it as beyond reproach; he's scholar enough that the penchant for censorship and alteration of texts was tiresome and offensive to his sensibilities. Bless the College of Enchanters for having their own aways of working around the Chantry's restrictions.]

Whether the blood mages of the Gallows and Kinloch Hold sinned or not in their actions, they did unleash horrors on the world--whatever their intent. That gives me reason for caution about it even beyond my religious scruples. [Really, blood magic being awful was one of the very few things he and his staunchly atheist cousin were wholly agreed on, which did say something.

He then tips out a hand in gracious acknowledgment of the Ascian's correction.]

Forgive me--you did make that distinction, and I elided it in my haste. Regardless, as you have amply explained, I do have every reason to suspect the texts that said He did as such.

Which raises an interesting point: Why are you willing to take that particular negative depiction of my Creator as undistorted by mortal ambition or misunderstandings, but challenge the idea that His word on blood magic is authoritative?

Because unless I have been misled, He did not hand out the book as writ by His hand directly, and go from village to town to city speaking directly what He desired, for He communicates not with anyone at all. All of it is by mortal hand claiming divine inspiration - and there is no true knowing if it is genuinely so, or not.

[There is a quiet tiny sproing of something popping loose and clattering across the table in tiny clinks.

Lahabrea fetches it back promptly.]

I know the word of my God and His wishes because He has given His direction quite directly to us, not through any other medium. We need not guess, nor assume, nor hope that our ancestors wrote it down fairly and clearly, leaving naught to interpretation. We are in that respect rather spoiled, for what need is there of faith when you have certainty? But time and again I have seen how mortals put their Gods to translation and question and interpretation; if there were ever direct conversation, it is long divorced from modern faith.

[There is a lapse then - Myr may well respond and it will certainly be heard and responded to in turn. But not for several minutes. Delicate bits require his full attention, and listening doesn't mean devoting the resources to a verbal response, not immediately.]

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