( one. ) voice • scientia potestas est [ id: nightingale ]

[ettersberg]

[ thomas nightingale does, in fact, know how to use a smartphone. he's owned one for quite a while before the end of the world; google maps in particular has always struck him as rather useful. the knowledge of how to operate such a device comes in handy now as well, though he's not entirely sure yet why he's bothering.

(the answer is peter; peter would want to know and nightingale would hate not to have any answers at all by the time his apprentice wakes up. because peter will wake up, surely. eventually.)

so there is no fumbling, no pauses when the device clicks on except deliberate ones, and a smooth, very british and posh-sounding voice inquiring: ]

It seems magic is not out of the ordinary, here. Someone has already inquired about those who believe in or practice magic, but I'd be interested to hear how magic was regulated, if at all, in your worlds. That, and whether there were particular ill-effects to it.

[ here, there is one of the aforementioned deliberate pauses. ] I'd also appreciate hearing of your experiences with employment.

Thank you.

Comments

[ettersberg]

[ for what it's worth, he has no intention of harming her. a mere werelight will provide ample demonstration of his magical abilities, and it isn't in any way harmful. ]

Half an hour, then.

[originallutece]

[SOMEDAY SHE'LL BE ASSURED OF THAT, but for today, there's a knife tucked into her jacket pocket. She looks just as imposing and calm as ever, but truth be told, she's ready to teleport away at the slightest sign of danger. It's perhaps stupid to strain her nerves like this, but, well. No one ever found out anything by playing it safe.

So, forty minutes later (enough time that he'll arrive there first), Rosalind appears, striding towards him with her head held high and her expression impassive.]

[ettersberg]

[ nightingale is already there, no visible or physical weapons anywhere on his person. a practitioner is always considered to be armed, though, so the lack of physical weapons hardly matters. he cuts a fine figure in his three-piece suit (recently cleaned), hand-made leather shoes and hat, silver-topped walking stick (it isn't really one) in one hand.

when she approaches, he inclines his head in greeting. ]

Madam Lutece.

[originallutece]

[He really is a sight for sore eyes in those clothes. It's not that he'd fit in perfectly at home, but he'd do it far better than what most people wear around here.

But that's neither here nor there, and Rosalind gives him a slight nod.]

Mr. Nightingale. Do you require me to stand anywhere in particular?

[Let's just get right to it, clearly.]

[ettersberg]

No. Where you are is just fine.

[ if he minds getting right to it, there's no indication of it. he doesn't, really. it's without any ceremony that he turns one hand over, palm up, says ] Lux. [ and procures, hovering over his hand, a werelight: a ball of warm, glowing light. it's the simplest spell there is, the first one apprentices learn. ]

[originallutece]

[She stares evenly at his hand, not at all shocked by what she sees. Truthfully, she's seen something like it before; this is far nicer than the flames that would consume a man's hand when he lit up with Devil's Kiss.

But that was the product of science. And surely this must be as well. Rosalind steps forward, reaching for his hand, raising an eyebrow to ask silent permission before she actually touches him.]

[ettersberg]

[ nightingale floats the werelight a little higher up; it isn't warm enough for her to be burnt by proximity to it in any way, but nonetheless. then he gives her a nod, not moving his hand from where it's held out still. ]

[originallutece]

[The first test, of course, is to skim two fingers between the light and his palm; the second is to touch the light itself, to see what it might do (if anything).]

And how is this accomplished? Don't just say magic, please, give me something a little clearer than that.

[ettersberg]

[ there is nothing between the light and his palm and at the touch of her hand, the light pulses briefly, but doesn't change colour beyond that.

nightingale lifts his shoulders briefly. ]

I'm hardly an expert on the why and how of it. There are formae. Shapes in one's head, if you will. If you form them, magic appears.

[originallutece]

And what shapes did you imagine for this? How many people can do this in your world?

[ettersberg]

Ah. [ for a moment, nightingale's lips press together, and when he answers, it's her second question. (he wouldn't know how to describe the form, and he's not quite willing to tell her to feel it out, to try it herself. peter is his apprentice and teaching magic is not something that should be done lightly.) ] I'm one of the last.

[ the last, really. at least the last sanctioned wizard. ]

[originallutece]

For any particular reason?

[ettersberg]

[ nightingale's expression and posture both are very still when he replies: ] War. [ what else? even decades later, the war still haunts him. ]

[originallutece]

Ah.

[Well, that certainly would explain it. Though . . . this clearly is a delicate topic, but curiosity overpowers everything.]

. . . was it a war that targeted you? Or war in general, reducing the population?

[ettersberg]

Oh, general.

[ wizards hadn't even partaken in the first world war, but in the second, the germans had begun experimenting with magic and, well. that had warranted some involvement. ]

[originallutece]

Which one?

[Thank god she'd never had to live through either of the World Wars. She'd seen them, of course; she'd grabbed a history book or ten out of the future, she knows all about them. But she and Robert had missed the first by only a few years, and to imagine him in the midst of that--

Well. It's not worth thinking about.]

[ettersberg]

WWII, if you've heard of it.

[ he wouldn't wish the experience on anyone. ]

[originallutece]

Oh, yes.

Well. I'm sorry you lived through that; from what I've heard, it was a horrible war.

[ettersberg]

[ nightingale inclines his head in acknowledgement of her point. what is there to say? it was a horrible war. it's consequences were perhaps even worse, for english wizardry and for nightingale personally. ]

That's why. [ he says, in the end. that's why he's the last (sanctioned) wizard of the united kingdom. ]

[originallutece]

[She's not so nasty as to express her doubt, but she wonders. Both the world wars severely reduced the populations, and yes, she's certain wizards likely make up a fraction of that population, but to have every single one die? It seems an absurdly thing.

Then again: he had said one of the last. So perhaps he's not the only one. Perhaps the remainders of his generation had simply decided that their knowledge wasn't worth passing down (though that, she cannot imagine; who would willingly let knowledge die?).]

How was it you survived?

[ettersberg]

Luck, mostly.

[ luck and not inconsiderable skill. he'd been tasked to cover the retreat of those surviving; many had, in the end, died of their injuries and not on the battlefield. some hadn't died but broken their staves after the war, unable to cope with what they'd seen.

nightingale knows they'd looked up to him. if the nightingale can go on, so can we. he hadn't let them see his own nightmares or the times he hadn't slept at all. not then. now, there isn't anyone left to show these things to, and he has gotten better over the years.

the war was a long time ago. ]

Are you satisfied that it isn't an illusion, yet? [ he asks with a nod to the werelight that's still hovering in the air over his outstretched palm. a blatant change of topic, but he doesn't much like talking about the war. ]

[originallutece]

I didn't think it was an illusion, Mr. Nightingale. I simply don't think it's the product of magic. But yes, I'm satisfied, though I'd be greatly obliged if you'd show me something else.

[ettersberg]

[ nightingale closes his fist and the werelight disappears. ]

Anything in particular?

[originallutece]

Mm. Something offensive rather than defensive, I think.

[ettersberg]

In that case, please do stand back.