unfinishedlibrary | The Wizard is [IN].

The Wizard is [IN].

Who: Illumination & You!
What: Lu has offered to help various people with their complaints, concerns, and general magical inquiries. If they've offered this to your character, or you just want to see what they're up to, feel free to post a top level.
When: A few days after the return to the Library.
Where: Some side room in the library.
Content warnings: None yet, but probably some mention of substance (alcohol, drug) use.

Somewhere in the library, Illumination has commandeered a small side room and set up a series of chalkboards, note paper, and various other materials used for magical testing. (Salt, stones, a couple of the gems from Link's stash, ink, a magnet, etc.)

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"Not how it works back home," he admits, "but I think I can grasp the principle."

He seems to remember the rock, at last, and at least draws his hand back to hold it against him.

"If I could at least be as resistant as someone who isn't," hm. What's a good way to put it. "Who doesn't have a hole in their mind. Who wasn't designed to be a vehicle for someone else's will. Would that be too restrictive?"

Whatever he gains from being in this state, it's undoubtedly not worth what he loses.

"Oh." There's another of those complicated flutters of colour and light over the base of their throat. "Spackle. You need to cover up the holes in the wall before the landlord comes looking."

"That might actually be easier than a broad sort of shield. Something more like a prosthesis..." It depends if Lu is able to design something that will 'fit' into the space where an external will would sit. "I, ugh, I hate having to say this, but I might need to test the limits of where and how your own will works. I wouldn't want to do that without someone else here, someone you trust to act as an observer and neutral party."

That glow at their throat -- would be? ... is, it turns out Illarion's sense of beauty is at least somewhat disconnected from his emotions -- very pretty, and puts the shrike in mind of dwarves and their own glowing. A part of his mind begins working on what might be meant by it.

"Exactly." Insofar as holes in the wall might let anything else in, well. This might be exactly the original solution he'd been looking for.

He glances down at the stone, before putting it back away in his bag.

"Being fully truthful that idea is -- uncomfortable." Even without his emotions in place. "But better than going on as I am. I -- can think of one or two people who might serve that role."

That they'd propose the condition of the additional deserver is a mark of trust, in his mind. It's what another shrike would do.

"Have you met Night Haunter yet? Would you object to him filling that role?"

"I have met him and he's a sweetheart." Illumination what the actual fuck is wrong with you. "And he's seen how my magic works."

"Yes, if you trust him, I'd be more than willing to have him here. And, for what it's worth, before we started on that path, I would give you a list of possible commands that I might make, and you would be able to strike out any that you wouldn't wish to do. As well as always, always have a safeword to end the test." When working control magic on their allies and friends, Lu is very careful about the entire testing process. (When working on enemies or in battle? It just means they're all the more able to target the things that hurt most.)

That. That word, applied to Night Haunter, gets the avian head-tilt out of Illarion.

Huh.

"He's objective, at least," he finally says. Sweetheart is definitely a bridge too far for him, but he's also a walking corpse and his own standards for tolerance are certainly -- different. " ... Do you mind if I tell him you said that?"

Because he's actually curious about the response it'll get.

"And that's acceptable. More than -- it's decent." Enough to get a faint smile out of him, because that's how he should feel about it. (A check of his outfeathers reveals this ... is, actually, enough reassurance they're not all slicked with alarm. Success?)

"By all means." Illumination's smile is small and sharp. They know exactly what they're doing and hope that Illarion gets some entertainment out of that conversation. "Teasing by proxy is well and good, and it's just that, a gentle tease."

"When both you and he are ready, come find me and we can get to work. There's no hurry on my end - I've got enough on my plate - but I can see how this might be something you'd want to change." Another, different, ripple of colour before they speak. "If you're willing, I would like to know if your state is innate or was caused by illness, injury, or something else. If you can tell me, it would help me to better shape my thinking around how the 'prosthesis' would work."

Ah, a time-honored tradition. Illarion, being a dad, is now obligated to act as their proxy. His smile widens a fraction to hear that, and he lifts his chin in mute acknowledgment. Consider Night Haunter as good as sweetheart'd next the shrike finds him.

"The sooner I can, the better," he says. There's something rueful in the words, even if it doesn't make it to his tone. "And I don't fully know how this happened, or what exactly it's a consequence of, though I have a guess."

He wasn't but dimly aware until the last Story of how comprehensive the injury was, and what its implications were. Thinking of it -- feeling his ((out))feathers press against his body in unfelt misery -- gives him a moment's pause.

Then: "I am dead. Was dead. Was raised into service to the King of Eyes, who could compel me into whatever he wanted from me. Stayed that way for years, until the Library snatched me up and broke his hold.

"Don't know if it's because I'm dead, or because he reshaped me this way, or because breaking me from him left a wound behind."

"Thank you for telling me and that is very good to know. Death, abdeath, and reanimation mean that I need to be particularly careful." When one's continued existence is rooted in spellwork, it is particularly important to be delicate when adjusting the warp and weft of the local magic.

"On the positive side, what could be quite harmful for the living, might not trouble you in the slightest."

That last gets an actual near-chuckle out of him. "It's one benefit," he concedes.

The notion that his status as deceased might matter to the magic catches at his attention, though. That's the more obvious point of variance between him and most anyone else in the Library -- but there is another.

He hesitates a long moment, considering the Veil and the conditions under which it might be pushed aside. There is no other shrike here, and the likelihood of another appearing -- he considers -- is low. And it's more risk to those around him if he carries in as he is, crippled in mind as much as heart.

"There is another thing," he finally says, "that would be useful for you to know. Aside from dead I'm touched by something from outside the visible world."

Best to limit detail as much as he can, at least, if he must share.

"Thank you for letting me know. I'll be sure to put up a few wards along the way, just to make sure that whoever that is, or whatever powers they bring to the mix, are less likely to have an affect." While not wholly the same as some of their other work, Illumination had spent a solid half-year working with the survivors (and ab-dead survivors) after an ill-fated job and knows where some of the dangers lie.

To summarize, you do not want to deal with the mess that is the mental control of higher level vampires and vampires actively trying to raise themselves to semi-godhood.

"If the work becomes too dangerous for me to continue, I'll let you know."

A very small twitch of something that's not a smile crosses Illarion's face. "A whatever," he clarifies, "more than a who.

"If anything around us starts growing eyes, or language becomes incomprehensible, or you start seeing colors you can't name, those will be good signs to stop."

A pause, and then -- "Are those wards anyone could learn? Or part of your gift -- your magic?"

"Oh, that sort of sorcery. I know about that sort and that I mean to stay far, far away from it." They make a mental note to have a couple of layers of anti-eldritch and tentacular-horror-early-warning warding. It's never anything that Illumination actually has the magical power to stop, but they're educated enough in the consequences to cut and run before it gets dire.

"And my magic is less innate skill and more twenty-plus years of intensive all day, every day training with a particularly brutal bell curve." Anyone can be a wizard provided you're willing to give up nearly everything for it, endure a great deal, and accept that odds are you will become a greasy smear on the ceiling that serves as a warning to others. "I can teach you, but it's close to ten years before you can cast even the most basic spell."

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The Wizard is [IN].

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