synopsychic | (no subject)

I don't think that anyone trained has the magical ability to tell if someone else is. [points out] There are a million different levels of training, and all kinds of fighting styles. I've seen Drunken Master, there are even styles that look sloppy.

[That said, Eliot honestly has no idea how to fight. But if his future vision is true, he learns somewhere along the way.] But are you willing to teach? For purposes of verisimilitude?

It's not sorcery, it's skill. If someone was skilled enough to hide the way they walk and move from someone observant, it is possible they could pass unnoticed.

[ Drunken Master... intriguing... Where can he observe this... ]

Certainly. But I require my students learn how to blend in or escape from trouble before I teach anything beyond self defense.

Propping his chin up in his hand, he shrugs. "My own magic is very elemental. Fire, lightning, and a good bit of warping gravity thanks to the Mark, and that's all powerful enough. Why bother adding to that arsenal when I could branch out into something I can't do already?"

He then grimaces and gestures at his head and his rather eye-catching horns. "Not to mention it's hard to sneak around as a Qunari. We're pretty eye-catching."

[Altair, if you want to see a Jackie Chan movie, Eliot can totally show you a Jackie Chan movie.]

I'm fine with self defense - but what do you mean by 'blend in' or 'escape from trouble'? There are lots of ways to do both of those, but you sound like you mean something in particular.

[ Please introduce him to Jackie Chan and add creative fighting props to his repertoire. ]

Blending in can be as simple as hiding in a crowd, convincing everyone you are a local, or wearing a disguise, or as complicated as using years of education to pass as a person of a different trade. Traveling in my land is dangerous because of the war, so I learned to do all these to avoid trouble.

[ That was his standard excuse for his skillset, and--setting aside high-profile assassinations--mostly the truth. ]

Escaping from trouble requires more physical effort. You not only have to outrun your enemy, but move over and past obstacles most people would be stopped by, sometimes climbing up buildings and using the roofs. Whatever is the fastest way to move. After breaking their line of sight, you would also have to find spots to hide in seconds.

Edited 2018-08-10 22:50 (UTC)

She sighs over dramatically.

"Unfortunately not! Sylphs use a far more raw source of magic than the Five-Races, and have a very different way of casting it, so we just have no idea how to replicate it other than asking very nicely," She laughs.

Though she's very grateful that he doesn't laugh, she can also see the way the corners of his lips turn down, trying to fight a smile. It's fine, she knows that her race isn't exactly the most common here. She's yet to see anyone else like her at all, in fact.

She takes in his description with an easy understanding and a confident nod.

"Okay, I can make some clippers, at least, and that should take care of the shorn sides for you, and then just the curls on the top to be taken down?" She manipulates a pair of manual clippers out of Liminal matter and sets them down onto the table, trading them in for a comb, a spray bottle, and a sharp pair of scissors.

First things first, dampen and brush out the hair!

"So, Elliot. I seem to recall my party members talking about you vaguely, but I've not had the pleasure of talking to you myself. What kind of world is it that you come from?" Pinya asks conversationally.

She knows that the other two had found this man aggravating, but she also knows that she's the same.

"You'd have fit in well with my crowd," Eliot says with a smug little smile, then adds, teasingly. "And it doesn't seem like you're using the magic to be any less eye catching right now ... "

He is curious, though. "How does color magic work differently than your kind? Does it need reagents, books, rituals? Or is it more just thinking the spells into being?"

Which is convenient, but a kind of magic Eliot will always be a little snobbish about. In his mind, it isn't real magic if you don't have to work for it (never mind that he was the most naturally gifted magician in his year and never had to work as hard as most of his classmates did).

"Party members?" Eliot asks, folding his hands genteely over his stomach. He's completely unaware Pinya knows Felih, or Q'uila, who he considers somewhat a friend.

"And that's a very vague question. I suppose I come from a mostly non-magical world as far as most humans know. Humans are by far the most prolific of the sentient races that live on Earth full time. Magic and magical beings are hidden and somewhat secret. Probably to give them more power - it's hard to manipulate the world if the world knows you're doing it. We do have technology - computers, internet, airplanes, all of that. But we haven't gotten to mundane technologies for space travel yet, or instant teleportation. Even with magic, those things are a serious pain in the ass."

So spy stuff and parkour. Hm.

[Pause, then] If you teach me the self-defense part, I can show you some other fighting styles that would ... broaden your horizons.

Yes, I want to know more of this Drunken Master. [ He's got "Master" in his name, surely he must be good. ] We may not have time to see the benefits of the lessons before this Liminal is over. If you are in good health after next Jaunt, I will expect you to be available next Liminal.

Ooh, so demanding. I like it~ [Eliot purrs, though it's more of a reflex flirtation than anything serious.] Fair, I'm picking up a new kind of magic this time around, anyway.

I'm Eliot, by the way. Eliot Waugh.

...I'm your teacher, I'm supposed to ask things of you.

[ He hasn't yet gotten to The Police's "Don't Stand So Close to Me" in the library's collection of records, as he is still working his way through Johnny Cash and Blondie. ]

Altaïr. [ He came from an era where people could be mostly known by a first name and some sort of descriptor. His hometown wasn't really relevant since most Travelers didn't know it. Same for his father's name. His job title, Mentor of the Levantine Assassins, was a secret. ]

"Some things I just couldn't get my head around in Thedas. One of my comrades was good at concealment work, and I know he can use necromancy like the mortalitasi, but it was one of those fields I couldn't seem to channel properly," he shrugs, eventually flicking a hand out to dispel the transformation and turning back to Asa's female self. Tossing her braid over her shoulder she adds, "When I was reading I noticed some Colour spells do seem to require a bit more preparation, but a lot of it's just concentrating and knowing what you want to achieve. Much like Thedosian magic. You want something to catch fire, you will that fire into existence. Though if you don't know how to channel your magic properly, you might set yourself on fire."

Yes, teacher. Are you going to punish me if I don't do well in class? [The tone is still teasing, playful, and very definitely flirtatious, but he drops it after a moment, to address the introduction.]

Altaïr. [Eliot repeats it back with perhaps surprisingly good pronunciation.] That's Arabic, isn't it? What year are you from, do you know?

[ The feeling the Network conveys is of confusion at first, which quickly turns to amusement. ]

If my wife were here, she would put your face on the ground with one arm.

[ He misses her fiercely, but his time of grieving and not speaking of her to anyone is over. ]

It was 587 when I was taken here. [ A pause, then, ] That is 1191 by the Christian calendar.

My kind of woman. My boyfriend would probably just pout. [This said very fondly.]

Medieval, huh? [He had been required to study history and language at college, the Arabic languages were very common in magic, and it suddenly clicks with the skills Altaïr had been mentioning. Ninja skills.]

[He switches to a private message when he asks, with great interest] Wait, so are you Hashishin? Fedayeen?

[ Altaïr's name is a weird one. No one named their kids after the birds that flew in the sky or the brightest star in the constellation Aquila.

[ Eliot seems to be another history nerd like Thorne. It's hard, being history... He's unnerved his secret could be discerned in such a way, though that anger is also similar to the indignation anyone else might feel at being called one of the feared scourges of society. He runs with it. He responds the only way he can: ]

Of course not! Do you go around accusing every man of some skill of being a murderer hiding in the mountains? I am a scholar. I travel, at risk to my life, bringing books and knowledge between cities despite the war.

No, not usually. [The reply does sound slightly apologetic, at least - while Eliot may know a lot of history, be familiar with multiple ancient languages, he doesn't always take into account the personal context of those historical facts.] But there aren't exactly many "normal" people here. Most people here come from some sort of extraordinary background, and that was the first one that came to mind ... sorry.

'Extraordinary' is a strange way to say 'feared and hated.' Well, I think it is extraordinary that I survive the roads alone. They're crawling with soldiers, who can be worse than bandits. You're one of those people who would have mistaken me for one of Salahuddin's men as well. I should have known.

[ Off to a great start... ]

[pause] Why should you have known? [dryly]

Your mistaken assumptions about me, most of all. Best to keep those to yourself if you want to talk with anyone not from your home.

[ ... yes, but Eliot is asking why Altair should have known that Eliot would make those mistaken assumptions, and ... you know what. Nevermind.]

So I guess the teaching is off the table now? [disappointing]

If I had nothing to teach you, and I would guess that includes care with how you speak, I would not be talking of it. I am past the days of refusing to help someone out of spite, and this will not be my first time working with someone I may not get along with. But know that I am a harsh teacher regardless. I cannot be merciful, because someone attacking you surely won't.

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/dies

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Poor Altair. XD

Re: Poor Altair. XD

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