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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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"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!

"Oh yeah sure no problem." As long as the pants-wettingly horrifying forest wasn't going to work it's terrifying magic on him anymore. He let go as Raistlin answered, kicking around a fist sized rock.

"So like if I threw this rock, you could hit it, right?" Not at Raistlin, mind. He wasn't that big of a dick.

Thank you. With his arm back, Raistlin's freed hand went to the many pouches at his waist, twisting open one in particular and dabbing a finger in the contents inside.

Bat guano.

Another pouch.

Sulfur.

Quick and without having to look or spare any thought for it, as natural as Wade cocking a gun might be.

"...With fire, specifically? It would be a short burst, but yes."

"I mean shit dude, anything." He hefted the rock, tossing it from hand to hand as he thought.

"Bet you can't beat my rock break high score."

"Perhaps not. My targets are not ordinarily stone."

Usually if Raistlin uses his magic against something, it's living. You know, until it isn't.

"Go ahead."

"Don't be a quitter, rocks pop if you heat them up enough." But! He cocks his arm back, and hucks that rock in a nice, long arc, lengthwise in front of Raistlin.

The roiling ball of fire that suddenly roars away from Raistlin's hand is only a few feet wide, but it's fast, overtaking the rock mid-air. When the rock lands, it's hissing with steam and, yes, after a moment in the comparatively cold air, cracking apart. More of a crumble than a pop.

But hey, it's broken.

Look, it's less an exploding rock Wade wants to see, and more fucking fireballs fuck yeah!

Wade let out an absolutely pumped whoop as the ball of fire engulfed the rock, obviously more than just a little pleased with the display.

FUCK YEAH MAGIC.

"You got lightning bolts too?"

That enthusiasm does, at least, earn a faint smirk from the mage.

"Of course," a quick dip into a few more pouches, and then, "ready."