What We Do To Ourselves {Angela/Fàsail}

[Harbor]

Fàsail sat alone for several hours the day she decided to finally ask for help. Aroure, with Fasail's thoughts open to her, knew what Fàsail was thinking and what it cost her not only to consider exposing another person to her secret--and not even someone she knew well--but to sit utterly still to devote all of her fractured mind to the task, even as her bones seemed to grow hotter and hotter under her skin because she wasn't working off the excess of energy she had been born with. When at last she could stand neither the burning nor the only logical answer anymore, she shot off her feet and out of her small tent, breaking into a desperate sprint as soon as it was safe to do so.

Fàsail ran in a straight line. Directly out from the camp and into the fields and hillocks. Aroure trailed over a hundred feet above her just to make sure she didn't run into any trouble while exhausting herself. When Fàsail was finally on the verge of collapse, one of the safest and most comfortable places for her to be, finally she walked back to the Varden. She sought out the sorcerer's tent and, since the herbalist wasn't present, Fàsail took a seat on a stump outside, pulled out some oil and a whetstone, and went to work on her pocket knife, grim and determined.

{Sorry it's short }

[Rhythm]

During her stay with the Varden, Angela rarely strayed from her tent. Those with problems oft pressed her for solutions and though the herbalist did not annoy quickly, both she and Solembum enjoyed their personal space from time to time. They found that the strange earthy aromas that hung like a fog around the temporary home discouraged all but those with the most serious of issues from disturbing the pair. On this particular day, however, Angela had went off to deliver a concoction to Garzhvog which was made with herbs that she had found were good for polishing stones and horns. He'd accepted the gift graciously and in return had given her a gnarled carving of an urgal child. 

The woman's hair bobbed as she walked, the movement the only indicator of where the curly strands ended and where her similar colored deep brown shirt began. The green embellishments on her clothed arms and tilted belt reflected the light from the sun, which peeked out from behind a large grey-blue cloud.  A friendly grin split her face as she approached her tent, recognizing at once the girl seated outside. Fàsail's expression hinted at a foul mood, though Angela's smile remained, kind as ever.

"What troubles you?" she asked, passing the girl and flipping open the entrance to the tent. Motioning to the door, she invited Fàsail in even as Solembum slipped past her legs, likely off to make a meal of his daily grouse. With the help of subtle magic, she lit a candle and set it aside before taking her usual seat on a purple-cushioned stool. Briefly, she wondered at the Elva's location, before shaking her head to clear the thought from her mind. Wherever the girl was, it wasn't here. That much was certain. The herbalist blinked twice, and waited for Fàsail' to speak.

[Harbor]

Her dagger didnt need sharpening, as Aroure had pointed out. She'd first pointed this out several years ago, as Fàsail tended to sharpen her blades when waiting for someone, as it was a task she could set herself do while remaining in one place. Thus Fàsail had perfected a ward that allowed her to scrape at the blades and gave all sounds and appearances of grading the blades without actually changing them. It allowed her to feel as though she were being productive without doing anything she'd have to magically fix later. As Aroure knew, Fasail's magic tended to express itself in inconvenient ways, to say the least. Wards, at least, she was creatively competent with.

Angela she recognized by the way she walked, and the gray blob at her side. That saucy jaunt was unmistakeable. As usual, Angela made her greetings without a hello. Fàsail lifted her head and smiled. "Madame Herbalist, and Master Solembum," she greeted with genuine pleasure. She hadn't spoken with either of them before but she knew well of them both and held them in a high regard. "I'm afraid I've had a spot of trouble with some magic and thought to ask someone with a different perspective her expertise."

Fàsail tucked away her bits and pieces and followed the sorceress into her tent, more spacious than Fasail's own. "What do you know of removing spells? I seem to have misapplied one."

[Rhythm]

(I misread your character's age for some reason, thought she was younger. Sorry about wrongfully calling her a girl as if she was a child. Then again, kinda seems like something Angela might do ).

"Oh, skip the formalities, Fàsail, or I might have to start charging you," Angela joked, smiling and hoping that the friendly banter would cheer her up. Solembum didn't seem to mind the title, however, throwing an approving glance over his shoulder as he left. "Ask away, if it pleases you to do so. I'll help however I can." With one hand she reached down and searched beneath her chair, knocking her hand against something damp and mildew-y before producing a wine skin and offering it to the elf. 

At Fàsail's next words, Angela paused, tilting her head down in thought. Some magic she was great at, but... "The removal of magic is a complex thing," she said gently. "As one cannot lie in the magical tongue, breaking a spell is nearly as difficult as breaking an oath. You need to be able to come up with a new spell that renders the original spell useless. However, conflicting spells can be dangerous in themselves. Unpredictable. They can collide with one another in such a way that they'll drain your energy infinitely until only death follows." At this, the woman paused for a long time, staring at a pattern on the woven rug beneath her feet. Each individual strand was boring and uninteresting without the colors next to it. The dull colors seemed to flow into one another in such a way that altogether, the color was vibrant and had depth. 

With a sigh, she flicked her gaze upwards to look once more at the elf's face. "It's nearly impossible, Fàsail, but in saying that I supposed it can be done. Let me hear of this 'misapplied spell', and then let me think on it once more."

[Harbor]

A faint smile crackled at the edges of Fasail's mouth. Angela only charged people she disapproved of or wished to annoy, to the best of her knowledge. The strands of the woman's history that Fàsail happened to know had prompted her to ensure that she remained on good terms with the woman even before she knew what the woman's personality was like. "And what would you ask me for?" she wanted to know. "Nine strands of a vixen's hair and a wine bottle of moonlight?"

Fàsail took a seat across from the herbalist, resting against its back, suitably fatigued enough to be able to do so now without twitching. This far. Irritation, frustration, and other such ungainly things tended to make her jump. At Angela's reminder of magical complications Fàsail closed her eyes as if it would make the known information change. She propped an elbow on the arm of her chair and lightly rubbed at the edge of her brow, wishing she could rub at her strained eyes. "I understand." Her magical training had been thorough, if not effective.

Nearly impossible. Fàsail had known that before even considering expressing her growing problem with someone else. She hesitated. "A year ago I applied a spell to myself which was stated as 'allow me to see small details clearly'. It worked, permitting me to count the cells in a leaf or the flecks of dust in a drop of water. But to achieve that ends my eyes lost their ability to see color, which distracts it from seeing texture. That I would have lived with." Even though she could no longer paint. Even though Aroure had to draw Fàsail out of her own mind to show her a particularly appealing hue. Even though clouds in he sunset looked like the haze of smoke left behind a pillaged town. "However, since then my eyes have grown increasingly nearsighted to compensate for the details they can see close at hand. The rate of change has increased. I can count the eyes of a dragonfly if it sits on my hand,," she said with a small smile, reminiscent, until it drooped and fell. "But a man standing ten paces away might as well be a felled tree. I am going blind. I fear that I will become useless." She closed her eyes again. Angela's face was only moderately hazed from where she sat, but reading its expressions was still a troublesome business. She still couldn't see it clearly, and for the moment didn't care to.

She inhaled, and sighed. "My own magic is strong, but it expresses itself in inconvenient ways. This isn't the first spell it has twisted. I am afraid to try to fix it myself."

(My phone autocorrects to put the accent in Fasail's name sometimes but you don't have to bother with it. I won't once I'm back on my computer.)

[Rhythm]

"Along with a couple of coins and a bottle of Snalglí slime," Angela said, her hearty laughter filling the tent. However, despite the joking making for a pleasant scene, the underlying tension was so thick it seemed as though one could slice it into pieces and serve it on toast. It was apparent that the elf had something important on her mind.

The herbalist listened as Fàsail spoke of her ailment, a great sadness washing over her. The elves were a race that was seemingly perfect in every way. It didn't seem natural that even they could grow ill or be, as in this case, affected by a spell that had gone awry, Even after her explanation had long since died away, Angela sat in respectful, silent thought. It was no secret that the herbalist was a great magic user. However, it was not widely known that her magic usually expressed itself in dangerous ways, much like that of a dragon. To put it simply, she was afraid. Afraid of hurting those around her. Her aversion to magic was probably for the best.; with a single misplaced word, she could easily destroy the entire Varden camp. Not to mention the fact that her knowledge of the Ancient Language was limited to only a handful of choice words. Silence.

"Delicate spells are not my profession," she spoke finally. "But... But I suppose I could give it a go, if you really wanted me to." Another long period of thought. "I'm not certain it would work, though. I'd have to spend a number of days considering the spells I'd use. Perhaps Blodhgarm would be of more assistance than I." The herbalist smiled kindly. resting a light hand on Fàsail's back and guiding the warm cup of tea into the elf's hand. "What does Aroure think of your predicament?"

[Harbor]

Fasail appreciated the silence that Angela offered her after her brief explanation, it meant that she was genuinely considering it, testing its weight, testing her own strength, and deciding how to best approach it. Fasail had often considered the similarities between the problems of others and untamed beasts—one had to perceive them as clearly as possible, measuring themselves against it, before attempting to approach and soften it.

The herbalist pressed the cup of tea into Fasail’s hand and she accepted it, enjoying its warmth for the time being, but preferring to let it cool before sipping. She had always had a penchant for cooled teas over hot ones. She had enough burning in her already without adding more. ”I feel no particular rush in finding a solution,” Fasail assured her, turning her teacup about in hand to examine the designs on the sides. ”I would prefer to try nothing than to risk worsening the situation, however.” As for Blodgharm…. He would be the logical choice. He had a sharpness of mind and tongue that could put the finest of the dwarves’ diamonds to shame, and had been known to handle his magic as efficiently as one might use a razor blade. But Blodgharm would be entitled—and inclined—by his own position as the head of the elven spellcasters to inform a number of other people whom Fasail preferred to keep ignorant for the time being. And to be quite honest, to ask him had not previously occurred to her—in her own experience, the most skilled people were not always the right people to ask for help. Sometimes help best came in the form of those who simply experienced the world differently than most.

Fasail inhaled. ”Aroure is a number of things, exasperated and disapproving being two of the most prevalent at the time. She and I disagree over how I approach said predicament, and with whom I share it.” She glanced up to the herbalist’s face, or rather the pale smudge of it. ”Eragon knows. I gave him permission to tell the select few that he felt needed to know of it, but that is all.” For all her confidence in her own self, Fasail was as ashamed of her own disability as though she had brought it upon a bystander. After all weren’t they about the same? Fasail was in the position to cause great change, being a Rider engaged in an ongoing war with a tyrant. Her disability could become the disability of others if she failed to accommodate for it, and hurt the very people she was trying to protect. Her condition might as well be contagious.

Fasail drew the heat slowly out of the tea, since heat and energy could sometimes be treated as though they were one and the same, and no incantations were needed. Taking a sip, she wondered absently at the spice, tucked away the flickerings she had gained from the heat transfer so she wouldn’t have to fight the energy they had created, and sat the teacup back down. ”I am not confident in my own magical ability, which is why I have sought help from someone else to begin with. If you wouldn’t suggest your own assistance for my sight, could you help me lay a ward to prevent me from harming anyone I don’t intend to? I’d love to stop running into anything lower than waist-height.” Wards were one of the precious few areas of magic in which she felt comfortable, and her own were highly efficient. However she had spent so much time adjusting them, of late, that she wanted someone else’s words to lay in with the many layers of her own that she had already established. Cooperative magics were more effective than most people realized, and tended to fill gaps that one mind couldn’t always find.

[Rhythm]

(I'm posting this here to ensure that it'll remain at the top of my 'New Replies'. I won't be able to respond to this post for another little while, but when I have time I definitely will.)