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"Massster..." this came from a disembodied head floating in front of Raistlin's desk. The archmagus didn't look up immediately, busy scratching writing onto a piece of flattened parchment, the quill in his thin golden fingers practically vibrating with the speed of his notes.

Genessia was a land of fascinating marvels. He'd be sure not to forget a single one.

"Masssster pleasssse," the head tried a second time.

Finally, Raistlin glanced up, impatient at the interruption. "What?"

"Therrrre is an intruderrr in the Grrove."

That. That was interesting, and Raistlin's hand finally stilled. "In the Grove, you say?"

"Yesssss. The defenderrrssss have not been able to kill it..."

Extremely interesting. Something from Genessia, no doubt, nothing else would make sense. The blackrobe dabbed the last of the ink off the feather quill onto a pad and set the instrument aside, and then took the time to carefully close up the inkwell. This could take a while.

And so it was that whatever this stranger was doing, he suddenly wasn't the only living creature in the dark, ancient grove. Raistlin lurked in the deepest shadows, silently watching.

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"I have perused many books from their libraries. I will add 'genetics' to the list."

Yep, just like that. Gonna learn him some genetics because he can.

Just try and stop him, number of hours in the day! He'll fight you and he'll win.

"Your manner of speech grows steadily more difficult to parse," he whispered next, strange eyes fixed on Wade from under his hood. "Are you asking... what it is like to have magic?"

Best guess here.

Edited 2019-07-19 08:08 (UTC)

"Sounds like a great way to burn four years worth of lazy afternoons." Genetics, not exactly light reading! He tried to learn a bit of it himself but hahaha no.

Ain't nobody got time for that.

"If you think this is hard to understand, I'd stick around. It only gets more fun with a bowie knife in the frontal lobe." BUT-

"Yeah? Magic's not really a thing where I'm from? It's all science and mutants and mind powers which, I've been told, is more science, but I personally think that's bullshit. I'd do my research, but when I ask someone with mind powers what it's like being a sparkly mind wizard, I get my brain popped like a ripe grape.

.... So yes, yeah. Magic powers, what's that like? ... Can you throw fireballs?"

Raistlin won't be trying to become an expert, at least. But he will learn the basic concepts, and probably a few of the more complex ones to boot.

Gods above, this strange human is an oversized kender. Right down to the line of questioning. This is very, very familiar ground.

"I can, yes."

Understatement of the century.

"Magic is power, where before I had none."

Wade Wilson, the giant, unkillable kender. Don't make the comparison, he might like the title too much.

".... Can I see?" Look, he dragged his half dead body all the way over to this stump, he deserves a reward. "Can you blow shit up? Like just-" He snaps his fingers, "and some poor fucker explodes into beef confetti?"

"...More or less, I suppose." Raistlin had to take a second there to figure out what beef confetti meant, but... sure. Why not.

However, "I am not demonstrating a fireball in an enchanted forest."

Sorry Wade some of us know how to think ahead a bit.

One of them has to, he definitely would wanna see a giant fireball explode in an enchanted forest, considering said forest's denizens killed him ten times in a row.

"Oh no, can't have that. Wouldn't want to set all the ghosts on fire." Please set the ghosts on fire.

"Okay fiiiiine, we'll go somewhere less foresty." That's right, he's set on seeing stuff blow up. No one has real magic at home, it's all mutant shit.

REAL MAGIC.

This earned a faint, thin smirk from Raistlin, barely visible in the shadows of his hood.

"There is always the tower."

You know. The one through the shit-gibberingly terrifying woods.

"... You mean the one I saw from outside the woods? The tower that's inside the woods? In the middle of these woods? The woods with all the angry handsy ghosts and the pervasive heart-stopping sensation of unrelenting, pants shitting terror?

That tower?" Why tho.

"... Sure, sounds fun. Can't wait."

"Yes... that tower."

As entertaining as the idea of demonstrating fire magic in, say, the great temple of paladine across the street may be...

"Do your legs function?"

We're not doing this at the pace of elbow-crawl, thanks.

Edited 2019-07-20 04:51 (UTC)

"Lemme check." One leg was working now, after all! He moved to the other one, going to land a good, solid punch right down on the top of the knee cap. A sharp kick out, and he thumps the heel against the ground a few times.

"... Yeah that's about as good as it's getting. Alright, let's get this nightmare over with."

"Very well," and Raistlin turned to start off back the way they'd come, deeper into the woods, the light of his staff still shining brightly enough to cast sharp and strange shadows through the trees.

"Take my arm, and the effect will be... less."

Still there, but, do-able.

"So I'll only cry a little instead of shit my pants? It's a dream come true, all of my birthdays are happening right now." Of course he's going to take his arm though, because yes this place is in fact, fucking terrifying and he'd give anything to not have to deal with the brunt of it.

The effect was immediate, like the thick velvet material covering Raistlin's arm suddenly dropped down over every sense that had been screaming with fear. Dulled, just enough. Not too much, but enough that someone sufficiently brave would make the full journey...

If not entirely unscathed.

The heat coming off the mage was still just as intense, of course, though the arm Wade had hold of would feel as frail as a bird's bones. Thin and wiry and, were one to paint Raistlin's frame in a positive light, extremely delicate.

Wade's standing height was... not in his favor, really, though the only indication was an odd look shot sidelong from beneath Raistlin's hood. But then, standing near enough to have his arm, Raistlin's face was quite completely hidden.

This close, the scent of dried rose petals and... decay, earthy and sweet, would be easy to pick up on.

Raistlin said nothing, opting to just lead the way further into the woods, the only commentary from him coming from the gentle clack of the things hanging from his belts, the thump of his staff with each step, and the whisper of velvet.

Edited 2019-07-20 05:18 (UTC)

Brave might not be the word many would apply to Wade, but in the end, insanity essentially accomplished the same thing. The dampening of that fear was just enough to ensure that he wouldn't be freezing in his tracks again, so long as he didn't let go.

Now, of course he noticed the size difference. Why wouldn't he? It was pretty obvious. But then, that being said, Wade was also a fairly tall person himself. With a handful of exceptions, he tended to be the biggest guy in the room.

So yes, there was going to be commentary, don't get him wrong here, but it's probably not going to be what Raistlin expected.

"... Sweet cologne by the way." You know, roses and corpses.

"Really adds to the whimsical ambiance here."

"I have no idea what you are speaking of."

No really what the fuck was cologne. Raistlin had been doing such a good job picking out meanings with context clues but this time he had nothin.

"You smell good."

This conversation is great, he is killing it.

That actually startled a stumble out of the mage, followed by a sharp, "I what?"

"What? What? What'd I say? It's not weird, it's normal, can't a guy say a guy smells good while he holds his hand in a big dark forest?"

Well.

Look, Raistlin's been complimented before, even on this very thing, but those had been orchestrated. Planned. Carefully maneuvered to wind the cleric of Paladine tighter and tighter around his little finger. A game, and one he'd won at, thank you very much, with every positive thing Crysania had to say about him being spurred on by pity and the faintest hints that Raistlin could be changed, made good.

Spontaneous compliments was a new one.

Still befuddled, but Raistlin was not, at least, at a loss for words.

"That is not my hand." Just in case you forgot what an arm was, Wade. "And the scent is from my spell components."

Edited 2019-07-20 05:58 (UTC)

"Don't get pedantic." Yeah that compliment was out of nowhere and coming on the tail end of a bunch of sarcastic commentary about ghosts. No he didn't have to compliment him. The only ulterior motive here was a desperate and failing attempt to break the tension.

"Well it's nice and I'm not taking it back."

"I... very well."

Let the weird fucking compliment stand, then, but Raistlin's sure not going to do anything to make it less weird.

And look, now they were here! Here being the clearing in the middle of the Grove, in front of the blackened gates into the tower courtyard. A gesture with his staff had the gates swinging open, an ancient and rotten piece of black fabric fluttering from the spikes on top.

There is nothing that can be done about the comment now, okay? He's full of regret, his attempt to start a completely normal conversation with a stranger has backfired hideously, best to just let the moment pass like a fart in an elevator.

At the very least, the scenery distracts him from his own social ineptitude here. There's a moment of peering up at the tattered fabric.

"... Not gonna lie, this place looks awesome."

"I am so happy you approve," Raistlin wasn't even sour about what had just happened, being a sardonic shit just came naturally to him. He tugged at his arm to see if Wade would get the hint, and either way lead the way into the courtyard.

The gates, of course, swung shut behind them.

The Tower of High Sorcery of Palanthas had once been a shiny, beautiful marvel of architecture and magic alike. It still was, really, but it was like someone had rubbed thick black soot over all of it. All the detail was still there, the delicate stonework and thin arches supporting the walkway around the top of the main spire, it was just... no longer glittering white marble and gold. Not in appearance, at least.

"I suppose I could demonstrate fire out here."

"I'm happy that you're happy that I'm approving, you're welcome." Yes, he knew that reply was sarcastic, here's him sidestepping it like an asshole.

Still, he follows him right in, only glancing back at the gate swinging shut behind them. That's not going to be a problem later, right?

Right?

"Sweet, hey I got a question. How good are you at hitting moving shit?"

"You can let go." And he'll tug at his arm again, too, hand on the staff tightening enough to make the golden skin across his knuckles pale a bit.

"As a war-mage I would say I am competent at it, with warning. Magic is not instantaneous."

In other words, yes, he could be ambushed. It had happened before!