congrekate | dragon age au!

dragon age au!

The rumor mill is still going on as to why Jonathan Strange fled the circle to become an apostate mage. Some say that it's as simple as an argument with his former tutor. Others say that the man never really recovered from his actions in the Mage-Templar War. The most likely answer is that something snapped after the death of his beloved. The one thing everyone can agree on is that it's really a shame someone with such potential threw it all away. He could have easily made his way up the social ladder, working at a court somewhere!

To which Strange would respond that he was doing perfectly fine right now, thank you very much, even if he was currently living in a shack that leaked when it rained, he had not even half of the books he was used to, and he heard people whisper behind his back, calling him the 'mad mage of the Dales'. So be it. His plan was probably a bit mad to begin with: Jonathan Strange planned to summon a god.

Not just any god, of course. He had gone through the various pantheons, trying to find the perfect one to grant him what he wanted (power, mostly, a way to take the tools and trade of necromancy and make it more solid, to raise the dead instead of raising spirits.) And eventually, Strange settled on Fen'Harel. He could draw upon the power of the location of the Dales as well as his status as an outsider himself to appeal to the god. The ritual itself was the most complex part, but modified necromancy bindings and a few of his own additions should suffice.

And so, Strange performs the magic. And poor Solas is probably just damn confused as to what he sees when he's forcibly woken up from his nap. The shack is small, covered head to toe with knick-knacks and trinkets, some of magical significance, others not. Dried herbs cover a table and books cover almost any other flat surface. Good luck trying to find where Strange sleeps as the bed has also become storage space. The mage himself looks wild: a middle aged human with scruff and hair that looks like it hasn't seen a brush in years, clothes ragged and dirty. And he just regards Solas with sheer confusion.

"I thought the wolf part was literal."

This is an elf. This isn't a dog. Did he make a mistake in the summoning? And if he didn't summon a god, then who the hell did he summon?

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Strange is trying to remain calm, trying to seem collected, but he's a tensely frayed nerve just waiting to go off. This elf's calm is...well, it's infuriating. Strange is a man of emotions, running passionate pretty much all the time, and butting up against this cool calm is driving him up the wall.

"I don't know if you do or don't! But what I do know is I'm out of options and you're the only one who I've managed to summon."

Strange's magic is powerful, but it's not yank a member of the elven pantheon from the Beyond levels of powerful.

"Even advice on what course of study to turn to next would work," he pleads. "And I know I'm not Daelish but just by doing this, I think I've paid more attention to you than they ever had." After all, most people forget Fen'harel.

That his calmness is causing Strange discomfort is a victory for him. This was how he would win this war between him and the flat-eared mage. One that openly mocks his reputation and brings in the Dalish as if that would hold weight.

He manages to hold back his scowl and shakes his head. Whatever magic this man held, it was powerful to bring him here, and he was not going to rise to the man's bait.

"There is little advice I can give from a cage," he says coldly. Or that he was willing to give.

"And there's little reason to believe you'll stay if I open the door to the cage," Strange responds, as if he's pointing out the obvious. He shoved Solas in a binding circle, after all. If he removed the enchantment then of course Solas would go, leaving Strange with absolutely nothing and no idea what to do next.

He looks over Solas, frown still on his face as he does so. "Perhaps a leash would be a good middle ground? It's appropriate for your title, after all."

Ha ha, it's a terrible dog joke.

No, the man was right. As soon as the binding circle was gone, Solas would be leaving. There's no reason for him to stay beyond that, a human's desire to revive and prolong the life of a loved one was of no interest to him.

The leash comment does earn Strange a scowl. "It would earn you no favors." In case Strange was under the impression that tormenting and insulting the summoned 'god' was in his best interest.

His foot traces the inner line of the circle holding him and he stares at the other man expectantly. Solas did not intend to offer any leeway in negotiations.

"Well then! You will not help me unless I let you free from the circle. I see no reason why you would help me if I freed you from the circle in the first place. You accept no alternative, so there's nothing either of us can do but wait until one of us changes their mind. And I have a feeling it won't be me."

This is bluster. As obvious from these conversations, Strange is not a patient sort of man. In a battle of stamina, it's obvious who's going to come out on top. Still, he's certainly haughty enough to think he'll outlast Solas in a battle of patience, as shown by the smug smile on his face.

Strange picks up a random book off the floor, stomps over to a chair in the hut, brushes off whatever papers or herbs were sitting on the chair and just sits down directly in it, directly in front of Solas, as he starts to flip through the book as if looking for a certain page. Passive aggressive reading is now a thing.

If that was how the man wanted to play this...

Solas shakes his head slightly and settles on the floor, cross-legged with his hands resting on his knees. If Strange wants to sit and angrily read then Solas will take the time to meditate. Venturing into the Fade was far too risky now and if there was one thing he had learned from the change over the years, entering the Fade on command for a Dreamer mage was easier with herbal aids. Ones he didn't have here.

He lets time pass in silence, content to passive aggressively meditate in return. It isn't until some time has gone by that he chooses to speak up again, eyes still closed and position unchanged.

"You have yet to share more than her name."

The war of passive aggression takes a pause as Strange looks up from his book. Ah. So he hasn't. Whoops.

"Her name is Arabella. She has dark brown hair, almost black. It lies in waves when she has it down, mostly because she wears it up all the time." Something in Strange starts to soften a bit. As he talks about his beloved, he becomes more relaxed, more obviously besotted, lost in the thought and the memory of Arabella. "She never failed to tell me what she thought of my decisions and never minced words around me, but she was kind and loving all the while--I wouldn't have fallen in love with her in the first place if it wasn't for that attitude."

It's obvious who the impulse control in this relationship was. Strange pauses for a moment, as the reality sets in. Who it was. Arabella had died, after all.

"She caught a chill one morning and died a day or so after."

It's a tense Solas picks up on. Her name is Arabella. Either this was recent or the man had failed to fully let go of the woman he lost. Solas had no leg to stand on in that regard with the way he had let his loss of Mythal triumph over all reason, but he had at least realized the woman was gone and nothing would bring her back.

There's no movement except for a raised brow.

"How long ago?"

"A few months," Strange simply answers.

So fairly recent and he hadn't fully let go of the woman he lost. And why should he? Necromancy regularly helped call forth spirits, he was certain he could find a way to use the rituals to call forth a specific spirit in question. The reconstruction of the body would admittedly be harder, but he was Jonathan Strange, a man who had summoned and bound a god. Of course he could do this!

What good was all this power if he couldn't use it to save her?

Recent enough. Solas is curious though not enough to invest his full energy into helping with a task he knows would be futile. Strange will get nowhere with his drive to bring back a loved one though Solas hopes the mage has tried more than 'summon a god of trickery and betrayal.'

"And you have her body preserved somewhere?" he asks. Or did the man intend to craft a new body should he be able to summon her from the void?

"I do. It's preserved through a combination of spellwork and herbal remedies." However, there's a little frown in Strange's expression. You can't preserve a body for too long. And it's not like Thedas has discovered formaldehyde or cryogenic freezing yet. Already things are starting to rot, starting to change.

He knows he can't keep this up very much longer. The body can't last much longer. And then what? He'll have to accept she's dead, she's passed? Strange is terrified of doing so.

"Obviously I've tried all sorts of necromantic rituals to coax her spirit back into the body, but it's summoning a specific spirit that's the hardest part of this endeavor."

So the man had gone to those lengths to increase his chances of revival. Well, Strange was nothing if not determined. Solas had to give him that. His eyes open slowly and remain focused on Strange.

"Were you hoping for an ancient elvhen technique to solve all your troubles?" Because if that was the case, the other man was going to be disappointed. There were texts and materials he could led the man to, but why would he share that with a human who couldn't begin to understand them?

"I was hoping for anything," Strange admits. He's out of his depth. That's obvious to anyone who's paying attention right now. The more he talks, the more that becomes oh so apparent to Solas. He's desperate, yearning, and just plain unwilling to let this go.

"Elvhen techniques, ancient tomes, even something as simple as instruction or advice would help."

He waves Strange's words off.

"As I am sure you have heard if you have spent even a minute listening to the Dalish, much was lost in the fall of Elvhenan." Much, but not all. The clans were lost as they tried to reclaim and interpret it. He doubts a human mage would fair better if presented with anything.

Strange can't help but laugh, shaking his head slightly as he grins wryly at Solas. There's a tinge of mania in his laugh, though it's mostly tempered with annoyance and aggravation. He doesn't exactly have the best opinion of the Dalish.

"The Dalish tries to talk me out of this endeavor to begin with! Why on Earth would I listen to them?"

At least the Dalish have more sense than he does.

That earns Strange a laugh, sharp and deep. The Dalish had the sense to avoid such a ritual, but that was the only positive thing Solas could say of the group. The elf might be bitter from centuries of being scorned in dreams when he tried to speak with them, dispelled as a demon or a mockery of Fen'harel trying to sway them from the 'true' ways.

Solas had no intentions of visiting the Dalish clans in person anytime soon.

"I am surprised you tried. Where else did you search?"

"I couldn't make it up to Tevinter because of...well, everything, but I have researched Tevinter necromancy rituals as thoroughly as possible." It's a bit hard for an apostate mage to make it up to Tevinter when he's got a corpse to manage and again, is an apostate mage to begin with.

"Predictably, the Circle was no help." As much as Solas isn't a fan of the Dalish, Strange equally isn't a fan of the circle of mages.

"No, I would imagine not." From what he's gathered of the Circle, anyway. He needed time walking around Thedas awake to get a better feel for what was truly happening though his time in the Fade had given him plenty of impressions.

"So I am your final resort."

"You are." Strange responds, with a little nod. He hates to admit it. This is very much a saving through, Strange putting all his faith in Fen'Harel because what other choice did he have? It was either this or accepting the fact that Arabella was dead and he...he just couldn't do that.

"And if there's anything I can do to further persuade you to help me, just tell me."

"You have already denied my request to be freed." Not that Solas is annoyed by this or anything. With his current position in the summoning circle, he's very much aware of his lack of magical abilities, particularly where his focus is concerned.

"Where are we in Thedas?" Because if he's to decide on anything, he needs to know that first. Tricking Strange into leading him towards where he had rested would be simple if the man believed it was for his goals.

"The Dales," Strange explains. "About a half day's walk from the nearest town."

So they're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Still, Strange seems perfectly content with said hut in the middle of nowhere. He's certainly made it his own, at least.

Far, far from where he wanted to be then. He stretches his legs and stands, reexamining the binding circle as he does so.

"Are you able to travel or are you bound here? Figuratively," he adds with no small amount of dryness. The man was carting around a corpse after all.

"I can travel so long as I'm back here within a few days. The preservation spells can only last so long before they need to be refreshed--unless I have help, of course." Said as he directly looks at Solas. If he wanted the travel period to last longer, then Solas needed to help keep the corpse as undamaged as possible.

"Why do you ask?" Obviously the elf has a plan. Strange just isn't entirely sure what it is.

"Because you will learn nothing staying here." And he needs to obtain his focus if he's to do anything he wanted to upon waking. There's the matter of preserving the body however. The way the elves used to preserve bodies, preparing them for their long sleep, may not be applicable here. How would those techniques affect a human corpse? Or at least, he's assuming it's a human corpse.

"Our preservation methods differ. Where do you keep the body?"

"In a root cellar, below the house." If one could call it a house in the first place. There's a pause, as Strange looks over at Solas. Obviously he'd need to change the spell up a bit so Solas actually could examine Arabella's corpse but if he removed the spell entirely, Solas would cut and run.

After another moment's pause, Strange knelt down on one knee, placing a finger on the binding circle itself. He mutters something under his breath, barely audible, before smudging the binding circle, then using the finger that smudged the binding circle to wipe some of the chalk of the circle on his wrist a second later.

"There. The nexus of the binding circle have been transferred to my body. I wouldn't recommend going too far away from me as, god or not, the results are probably...a bit messy." Is this dangerous magic? Probably! Does Strange care that it's seemingly dangerous? Not in the slightest! Obviously a distance of six or so feet is safe enough as before Solas can say anything, Strange moves towards the back of the hut and pushes some books off of a trapdoor in the floor.

"Down here," he says, as he yanks open the trapdoor.

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hey who's ready for magical bullshit