[a: the game begins, april 15, closed to yu narukami]
[Dorian has tried to reach the Fade, to contact spirits, once or twice since arriving here. It's failed each time, and each time he's tried something new - a different spell, something he's created or refined in hopes that this time it will actually work. That's what he's doing now, in a mostly empty area of the park, a space of grass between the trees. He's making do with what he can find in the city - candles, some assorted foodstuffs that might work, and a few things he brought from home, all scattered around him as he attempts the spell.
It fails, of course. Wherever the Fade is, he can't reach it. But around him, for a moment, swirl things that look very much like spirits - pained ones, the spirits of the damned, perhaps. It's mostly cosmetic, because Dorian has a flair for the dramatic, but it certainly would look alarming to one untrained in necromancy.
He sighs, lowers his arms.]
Failure, again? This is ridiculous.
[b: what the hell, april 18, open]
[Truly, he doesn't understand why he would attack that girl. She seemed to be a threat - still does, somehow - but logically Dorian knows that she probably is not. She's no fighter, no mage. There is nothing about her that would seem like a threat, and yet he finds himself absolutely sure that she is.
He doesn't like it. Dorian has killed before - one must, when one is at war - but he would prefer to avoid killing innocents and those who do not deserve it. He thinks she probably doesn't, even if all of him wants to believe otherwise. And so he's snagged a bottle of something like wine, found a quiet corner of the library (not difficult, when the entire place is quiet) and is getting himself pleasantly drunk. Maybe then things will make more sense. Maybe then he won't want to kill someone who's done nothing to him.]
Dorian Pavus | open & closed
[Dorian has tried to reach the Fade, to contact spirits, once or twice since arriving here. It's failed each time, and each time he's tried something new - a different spell, something he's created or refined in hopes that this time it will actually work. That's what he's doing now, in a mostly empty area of the park, a space of grass between the trees. He's making do with what he can find in the city - candles, some assorted foodstuffs that might work, and a few things he brought from home, all scattered around him as he attempts the spell.
It fails, of course. Wherever the Fade is, he can't reach it. But around him, for a moment, swirl things that look very much like spirits - pained ones, the spirits of the damned, perhaps. It's mostly cosmetic, because Dorian has a flair for the dramatic, but it certainly would look alarming to one untrained in necromancy.
He sighs, lowers his arms.]
Failure, again? This is ridiculous.
[b: what the hell, april 18, open]
[Truly, he doesn't understand why he would attack that girl. She seemed to be a threat - still does, somehow - but logically Dorian knows that she probably is not. She's no fighter, no mage. There is nothing about her that would seem like a threat, and yet he finds himself absolutely sure that she is.
He doesn't like it. Dorian has killed before - one must, when one is at war - but he would prefer to avoid killing innocents and those who do not deserve it. He thinks she probably doesn't, even if all of him wants to believe otherwise. And so he's snagged a bottle of something like wine, found a quiet corner of the library (not difficult, when the entire place is quiet) and is getting himself pleasantly drunk. Maybe then things will make more sense. Maybe then he won't want to kill someone who's done nothing to him.]