Open Post: This Is Where The Magic Happens

[rememberettersberg]

A new notice has appeared on the welcome table and at several well-traversed locations around the mansion and its grounds. It invites residents to stop by a certain summer house (which has recently sprung into existence on the shore of the lake) if they are interested in the discussion and/or instruction of magic.

Should anyone's curiosity take them in that direction, they'll find Nightingale there with a pot of tea always on the go and a rotating selection of snacks and nibbles. He's started to cultivate (heh) a small library of his own - important texts in the history of his magical tradition, textbooks for the study of a number of dead/archaic languages, and a growing pile of his own notes.

He'll be delighted to catalogue the differences (and similarities) in the way various worlds practice magic, conduct experiments to see if they can use each other's traditions, and (in the case of Laertes and anyone else that seems like they might be a fit candidate) begin some basic magical instruction.

Closed.

Comments

[timebethine]

"Are you subject to other mortal wracks? Disease, or wounding?"

[rememberettersberg]

"I was shot last year," he says, unconsciously touching a spot underneath his collarbone. "Not for the first time, so I do have some basis for comparison. I was struck down and recovered in the usual human way of things."

[timebethine]

"I'm glad of it. Not that you were shot," Laertes hastens to add, "but that you recovered."

He finishes his tea, then sets the cup aside and bows. "My thanks, Nightingale. I'll practice as diligently as ever I may, and hope to vindicate your faith in me."

[rememberettersberg]

"Think nothing of it. Don't forget your Latin textbook - you'll soon enough have need of it." Nightingale points at him with his teacup mock-sternly. "Take plenty of breaks and try not to become disheartened."

[timebethine]

"In Denmark, I was a peerless fencer; no man I met could go above one pass in five with me," he says wryly. "Here, there are few I can equal, and less I can surpass. My heart has learned to bear disappointment cheerfully." He grins. "Farewell, Nightingale."

And with that, he gathers up his book and sets out to practice by the lake shore.