away with us he's going, the solemn-eyed.

[nightmarist]

Who: Residents of St. Monmouth & OPEN to their various guests
When: Throughout February
Where: St. Monmouth in Kauto R2
What: The Backstreet Boys move into their magical farm of dreams.
Warnings: Look to the subject headers.
Notes: This is a mingle/catch-all log. Start your own threads! Tag around!

[Ronan didn't hesitate. Almost as soon as they arrived, he was making arrangements and picking out a plot of land. No payment necessary as long as he agreed to feed the locals? Fine. Perfect. He'd signed whatever he had to and picked out his favorite place in the lot, then he'd laid down in the grass and dreamt.

When he closed his eyes, he wasn't sure what he would build. The idea of "home" conjured up so many images in his mind. He thought of the Barns, of course, but also of Henrietta as a whole. He thought of Monmouth Manufacturing and dusty old books and the scent of mint. He thought of St. Agnes and its magnificent stained glass and the cramped coziness of Adam's bedroom above the office. He found Cabeswater sprouting up in the strangest places as the landscape shifted around him, spilling out of the walls and claiming rooms all for its own. Corridors and staircases emerged out of his memories, leading him through a maze of rooms both familiar and not-quite. In the end, when Ronan stepped outside to take a look at his work, he found he'd made himself a palace of nostalgia. Then he imagined a set of house keys, turned the lock of the front door, and woke up.

Ronan woke with his head resting on the welcome mat, sprawled across the front steps, gazing up at the spire of what he would dub St. Monmouth. It would be the main building of several he'd end up creating. Their new home.

Like God, he didn't rest for several days. Every time he shut his eyes, he devoted himself to dreaming something new. A farm needed animals and crops and barns and feed and equipment. Home needed streams and fish and bridges and flower gardens and glittering lights. He let his imagination run wild, and this meant that his dream things often emerged strange and senseless, but that reminded him of his father, which made the place more beautiful.

When he was finally satisfied - although not completely finished - he invited the others to join him.]

Comments

[nightmarist]

Yeah, I'm fine.

[This isn't a lie. There's nothing unusual about his condition, and nothing to be concerned about unless anyone around here thinks he looks ripe for the kidnapping or murdering. That part, he's still trying to assess.]

You seemed surprised. You haven't seen magic like this before?

[crowkiller]

[While he is an assassin, he isn't on the job. So no worries about the murder or kidnapping part. Besides he wouldn't be this obvious.]

I've heard of it, but never seen up close. Is it fire magic?

[nightmarist]

I guess if it's fire and magic, it's probably some kind of fire magic. I don't know.

[More of his muscles are beginning to wake up, anyway. Sluggishly, Ronan slides his arms back and props himself up on his elbows.]

[crowkiller]

[That 'I don't know' makes him even more confused than he was before. If this man is the mage that did it, shouldn't he know? He might not have magic like this, but if someone asked him how he killed a man he could tell them how he did it. He watches him carefully, and slowly move. He figures that the magic of whatever he did took a lot out of him.]

Whatever it is, it's pretty. It looks like something from the Fade almost.

[nightmarist]

[With a flicker of recognition, Ronan echoes Hawke word-for-word:]

The place where souls are born, where we go when we dream.

[Ronan glances at the illuminated tree, then returns his steady gaze to the stranger. In a manner of speaking...]

Yes, it's from the Fade. I brought it here.

[crowkiller]

[His eyebrows raise. It's like he just quoted a chantry mother. This boy is interesting, and Zevran can not figure him out yet.]

You are familiar? Are you from Thedas then?

[nightmarist]

[Ronan shakes his head. He sits up properly, resting his elbows on his knees.]

I met a mage from your world. I thought she could help me with something, but she couldn't.

[crowkiller]

Oh, well you almost had me fooled.

[He tries to think who it could have been he knows there one at least a few others from his world. He wasn't sure who was a mage though. Oh well.]

Magic is complicated, unless you were speaking to a Keeper or an Enchanter.

[He glances back at the tree for a moment and then to the other. He frowns when he realises that he has forgotten something.]

Ah, forgive me. I was in such a rush to put a fire out that I forgot. The name is Zevran. [He smiles before he extends his hand out.]

[nightmarist]

[A handshake! How quaint. Ronan accepts it, though he remains seated, because he'd rather not attempt to stand only to fall on his face.]

Ronan.

[He doesn't smile. Zevran's affability and handsome face aren't enough to coax friendliness out of Ronan.]

I think the problem is, she'd never heard of something like me. I don't think we exist in your world. So she wouldn't know how to cure me.

[crowkiller]

Well met, Ronan.

[He let's his hand fall back and rests his wrists on his knees. He gives that confused look again when Ronan mentions "cure". Guess every world has mages who aren't too excited about their gifts.]

Magic is a tool, not something you can be so easily rid of I'm afraid.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan immediately realizes he's been misunderstood, and he scoffs.]

God, no. I don't want to get rid of my magic.

[It was terrible enough when he was severed from his dream nature while they were on the Hub. He'd been drinking the purple water as if it was laudanum just to reconnect with his magic for mere minutes at a time.]

I'm being unmade by a demon.

[crowkiller]

Oh, yes I would want that cured as well.

[He does sound surprised, and he wonders exactly what the other mage told him.]

I'm guessing the other mage already asked about blood magic, yes?

[nightmarist]

[Not by that name specifically, but Ronan can guess.]

She mentioned making deals with demons. I'm not the one who awakened it, though. I'm just its objective. It exists to destroy me. I'm not sure if it cares about anything other than that.

[crowkiller]

To destroy and not posses?

[He's never heard of such a thing, but then again demons weren't his forte, and demons didn't really have a rule book to go from.]

If it was not blood magic, than you or someone within your family have really pissed something off.

[nightmarist]

[Wryly:]

It's inside me, but I'm not something it would want to possess. I'm offensive to its delicate sensibilities.

[Ronan gives a careless wave of his hand toward the tree beside him, still erupting with light.]

I'm a creator and it's a destroyer. It wants to destroy everything and everyone I've ever made, and then it wants to destroy me, too. As far as I can tell, no one's heard of a demon like that. But there's never been something exactly like me around, either.

[Kavinsky is the closest approximation, but he's only a thief.]

[crowkiller]

Demons are oddly sensitive.

[He sits now, relaxing a bit as he stares between the man and the still flaming tree. He watches as the sparks fly in different colors and directions.]

In Thedas the Dalish have Dreamers. Mages that can enter the Fade at will and manipulate it in ways no one else can. Spirits are drawn to them, and demons whisper words of seduction.

[He's never met one, and the stories he has heard are tales from others but at least it is something for the man to hear other than 'I don't know.'

I haven't heard of one being able to bring the Fade to the real world, but honestly if the Chant of Light is real than anything is possible.

[nightmarist]

[All of that is new information to Ronan, and he listens with interest, watching Zevran closely. It's like he's hearing himself described in another culture's terms and mythology, with only a few of the details slightly off.]

A Dreamer, yes. My dad was a Dreamer.

[And Ronan is, too, of course. But things get slightly messier with him.]

My mom was his dream. He made her in the place you call the Fade, or whatever our world's equivalent is, and he brought her back with him. Then I was born and it kind of broke the world.

[Somehow he created Cabeswater and literally brought the Fade - or whatever it is - back to Earth with him. It's no wonder he's got demons after him.]

[crowkiller]

That would make for a very gifted mage.

[Which if he can do all this, then it would seem he fits the description.]

If there are Dalish here, I would speak to them. They know more about Dreamers than anyone.

[nightmarist]

[He won't dispute that he's gifted, though not nearly as gifted as he'd like to be. Or maybe he just wishes he had any idea how this all works, beyond intuition.]

How would I recognize a Dalish?

[crowkiller]

They are elves. They have pointed ears, and tattoos on their faces.

[And it takes him a moment to realize that he just described himself.]

Ah, no not me. I only traveled with them, I am not a part of a clan.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan examines Zevran thoughtfully. He's a pretty stunning example of an elf. At least that gives Ronan some idea of what he's looking for.]

Why not?

[crowkiller]

[If Ronan had voiced that, he would have agreed and said he was the best example. But he isn't here to brag about himself right now.]

The Dalish are born into it they worship the old gods, and go by the old ways. I was born and raised with humans, so I know their Maker and his Bride.

Most clans aren't tolerate of outsides trying to be what they are not.

[nightmarist]

[Not so different from humans, then.]

You're probably better off.

[crowkiller]

It's a hard life they live, but they understand magic better than most. But you are right, I enjoys the comforts of the city too much.

[nightmarist]

What're you doing wandering around a place like this, then?

[Ronan sounds accusatory, but only in a teasing way. It doesn't actually bother him, people walking through his land. It's just occurring to him that he should be more careful to guard his dreaming.]