genessia | Video

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[A click. There's darkness, and shuffling, the sound of water being splashed around, and a very soft, very gentle curse.

Then a few seconds of silence... before the screen blasts white. It takes a second for the phone to adjust to the light itself, and when it does, blue skies and an upside down Genessia city are broadcast for a decent minute, before the screen is finally angled up at the holder.

A young man, dressed as if he'd tumbled out of some dark Victorian based funeral parlor, white as a sheet thanks to his own panic and confusion.]

... It must still be a dream...

[Apparently, he's not entirely aware of what he's looking at or what the hell its doing, because in short order that phone is flipped over to get a good look at some expensive looking boots as he decides to just... take this all one goddamn step at a time and deduce what the ever loving fuck this thing is.]

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... Me?

[HERP DERP]

Well I... I read. I have a fondness for writing...

[About dead things and tools mostly. There's a pause as the words appear on the screen and oh he wishes it was a mass of gobbledegook.]

I...

[Well now what smart guy? There's a long, slow, drawn out pause as he spends a very long time analyzing the sentence, and putting two and twenty two together and then-

The phone clatters across the ground.

Ichabod no.]

Edited 2017-07-19 17:38 (UTC)

[Oh, dear. That wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for...He makes a quick note of the location from the video feed from Ichabod's dropped phone, grabs his staff, but doesn't bother to slide into over robes or anything of the like, instead heading out in just his leathers.

Finding the prone man proves to be easy enough, given he's just outside the Bay, and he kneels beside Ichabod quickly, sliding a small vial of smelling salts from his hip pouch as he does so, removing the cork and waving it under his nose.]

Venhedis. Wake up.

[Yep, there he is, motionless in the street.

Or rather, motionless near a bench, he'd had the foresight to remain off to the side where all these stupid goddamn horseless magic carriages couldn't run him the hell over.

Oh but lord did he know that smell, shot like an arrow through his brain. There's a snort, a sputter, and he comes to, wide eyed and dizzy but hey, he's awake]

... So it's not a dream.

[The tone was weak and wondering, his eyes threatening to roll back again, but at least he seemed to be holding on this time]

It's rather charming to be the man of your dreams.

[He corks the vial of smelling salts and pockets it before standing and holding out a hand to the man.]

There are many who would claim as much, but no. It isn't.

[It took a second for that to sink in. The blush was the first thing that appeared, and the second thing was that strange mix of a nervous laugh and an indignant sputter.

Give him a second, he needs to reboot his humor.

He took the offered hand though, swaying a bit on his feet as he took a deep breath.]

... But it can't be possible either...

Why not?

[My, that blush did attractive things to this man's pale face.]

It's my experience that Americans are arrogant. Just an observation I've made since coming here, no offense meant of course, but-

[He pauses here for a moment as he rests a steadying hand on Ichabod's shoulder.] -are you so arrogant as to assume you understand every mechanization of the universe?

[Well first of all, snap judgement told him he should be very offended at being called arrogant, and he took a nice deep breath to argue about why he's totally not arrogant now sit down and let him explain why he's right.

Thankfully, the cruel bite of irony managed to catch up with him and he shut his mouth again, frustrated, offended, and miserably aware that he'd put himself in a corner without even having to say anything]

I'm-

I'd like to think I have a very good idea of it.

Is that right? [He crosses his arms, smiling as though he knows the punchline of a joke he hasn't told yet.] What if I told you that every star is a sun, that there are countless planets beyond the view of our eyes populated with various and sundry peoples whose characteristics are limited only by your imagination?

What if I were to tell you that I hale from a world called Thedas, and have only been introduced to your Earth upon arriving here? Do you still think you have a very good idea of what is?

Galileo Galilei and Nicolaus Copernicus proved the existence of other planets in a heliocentric universe, it would almost seem impossible that they would not too contain life-

[Stars were a different matter, no one had telescopes powerful enough to see the fading and brightening caused by planets crossing between their view and the star itself. He was still so sure there might yet still be things to be found on the planets in their own solar system.

But he wasn't surprised to hear it, if anything his expression brightened for just a moment. New knowledge that fit neatly into the rest of the puzzle?

Yes please.

But that's off topic, not what the question was technically asking]

I don't claim to know everything, I... claim to have a set of laws that I know to be true, and things that wander outside of them may cause some need to address the matter.

[Dorian nods. Honestly, there's nothing in this place that didn't fit into existence as he knew it to be, either.]

Certainly, Ichabod, certainly. What about this place suggests it does not, in fact, fit with your set of laws?

There... How did I arrive here? One does not open his broom closet and arrive on another planet, one does not fall asleep in his study and awaken in another world.

I cannot deduce what has brought me here, how it has done so nor for what purpose.

If I cannot even come up with a plausible scientific explanation for how I arrived, how can I then assume that my current location exists?

Even if I'd perhaps been kidnapped in my sleep, I'd still be on earth, somewhere, in a place with recognizable technology, in a land who's name fits into the languages of earth.

I would have a plausible explanation for my transport, and know the process in which I arrived.

Is that how this science works? My, my. No wonder it's so adverse to the existence of magic.

[He chuckles.]

You see, I would assume it is a far more logical deductive process to assume a thing exists, and thus work out how. For example: fire. Fire is the result of energies reacting with one another, correct? if one knows, on a subliminal, fundamental level, what this reaction feels like to be forced to occur, it can be convinced to do so, with the proper mathematical formula and the proper application of energy without a fuel.

[And he raises a hand.] No fainting, though I wouldn't blame you. It is, as a...dear friend of mine would say, "awesome". [And he snaps his fingers (which isn't necessary) and a flame appears in the palm of his hand. It's warm, flickers like actual fire, and will burn if Ichabod tries to touch it.]

But there is no recorded instance of this happening, while there's numerous accounts of fire. Unto which is the issue, if it has not happened before and has not been recorded, how am I to know this isn't some elaborate hallucination, or the effects of a drug?

I could assume all day that unicorns are real, and assume thus that one managed to escape the flood sent by God and still carries on to this day in the woods somewhere, but until I find said unicorn and bring either the unicorn itself or parts of it to be studied, I'll be laughed out of every college and lecture hall in the country, and further m-

[where did that fire come from

well he shut up.

Finally.]

Follow an event back far enough, Constable, and you'll find the man brave enough to first record it.

[He smiles at Ichabod's silence, and moves to transfer the flickering flame from one hand to the other. It isn't much energy that's require to conjure a flame this small, so maintaining it is simplicity itself.]

You believe me to exist because you've seen me, yes? There are some here who have not. I assume they'd believe me to be real on your word. Yes, I understand not believing in unicorns without proof, but why? I've never seen a unicorn, but there are enough accounts of sightings to take one's word at least something very much like it is real.

[Because he's one for flamboyance along with words, he claps his hands together, extinguishing the flame with a flourish.]

Did you feel its warmth, Ichabod? Do you believe it to have been real fire?

[He's watching very, very, very closely.

Surely, there was a trick here somewhere. A hidden pipette, some sort of inclusion of gas, a spark, something, intently watching every single motion.]

Without physical proof, everything is hearsay, and you cannot build anything upon the words of a dozen easily misguided people.

[A hard look at the empty hands.]

I've heard tell the brain can fabricate sensations where there are none to maintain a sense of grounded reality.

[Ichabod, stop]

Magic is reality, Constable. It's life. It's the spark that runs each of us. There are few, myself included, born with the ability to manipulate that spark, to reach past the physical and to form-

[He cuts himself off, shaking his head.]

You think you feel the heat because you should? [He laughs.]

Very well, then. Close your eyes and turn around. Let's see what you feel when you have no idea what to expect.

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