sᴇᴠᴇʀᴜs. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
darkart) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2014-08-12 08:01 pm
darkart) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-08-12 08:01 pm
Entry tags:
sooner or later we're gonna die ( open )
CHARACTERS: rainbow brite and the color kids
LOCATION: various
WARNINGS: sometimes people are jerks (tba)
SUMMARY: catch-all for stuff this month! shoot me a pm if you'd like to do something. or slam into this post with whatever.
NOTES: parts of this header might be a lie
There are times when Severus feels similar to when he did before the war hit full speed; in the years that lingered as twilight before the worst night fell on all of them. His talents were nurtured and he was rewarded not for unraveling the dreary methods to achieving good marks, but for challenging himself and rising above peers thought to be 'brilliant'. Scholastic drudgery became tasteless. He remembers Professor Slughorn pulling him aside one day in seventh year, wringing his clammy, clean hands, telling him that he was going to give him zero credit on an essay for doing parts on potions he shouldn't even know about the existence of.
(I can't have anyone think I'm exposing you to that sort of thing.)
It's not unlike those days. Here, in space. With no head of house to stare at him nervously, but also no dark wizard to touch his shoulders and whisper validation (pulling him in like gravity). It's just Severus, working on puzzling out how to get what he wants from a new set of circumstances and series of limitations. The Tranquility is the trade-off to escape politics, and what a bloody abysmal deal on both sides that is.
He swears a lot in private. At the ship, at the way magic slips from his fingers when it shouldn't. He spends his free hours in the dark of his quarters, deep inside the walls of Occlumency, finding small respite in the silence of his own mind. But mostly he works: Xenogen of course, still occasionally drifting through Medical - though they need fewer extra people now, thankfully, it means he's less likely to run into Lily - and tending to the portion of the gardens now set aside for proper herbology.
He moves to level 010. He sort of hates it. What else is new.
LOCATION: various
WARNINGS: sometimes people are jerks (tba)
SUMMARY: catch-all for stuff this month! shoot me a pm if you'd like to do something. or slam into this post with whatever.
NOTES: parts of this header might be a lie
There are times when Severus feels similar to when he did before the war hit full speed; in the years that lingered as twilight before the worst night fell on all of them. His talents were nurtured and he was rewarded not for unraveling the dreary methods to achieving good marks, but for challenging himself and rising above peers thought to be 'brilliant'. Scholastic drudgery became tasteless. He remembers Professor Slughorn pulling him aside one day in seventh year, wringing his clammy, clean hands, telling him that he was going to give him zero credit on an essay for doing parts on potions he shouldn't even know about the existence of.
(I can't have anyone think I'm exposing you to that sort of thing.)
It's not unlike those days. Here, in space. With no head of house to stare at him nervously, but also no dark wizard to touch his shoulders and whisper validation (pulling him in like gravity). It's just Severus, working on puzzling out how to get what he wants from a new set of circumstances and series of limitations. The Tranquility is the trade-off to escape politics, and what a bloody abysmal deal on both sides that is.
He swears a lot in private. At the ship, at the way magic slips from his fingers when it shouldn't. He spends his free hours in the dark of his quarters, deep inside the walls of Occlumency, finding small respite in the silence of his own mind. But mostly he works: Xenogen of course, still occasionally drifting through Medical - though they need fewer extra people now, thankfully, it means he's less likely to run into Lily - and tending to the portion of the gardens now set aside for proper herbology.
He moves to level 010. He sort of hates it. What else is new.
kyaaaa
He stays where he is, quiet, and observes the fluttering visitor, elbows on the tabletop, fingers laced. He's as capable of going unnoticed as he is making dramatic entrances.
A moment after the absent apology, Severus finally speaks, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a light-switch suddenly being turned: "You're awfully eager to see what this is for someone who seems to think I'm ignorant about my own craft."
no subject
His tone's flat, though, expression neutral. There's no real delay between the comment and the connection; Fitz remembers the discussion, the promise to come look in on his work, and he takes a moment to consider Severus now that he's put two and two together.
"I wasn't trying to insult you. It just isn't—," he stops short. Magic doesn't exist. Not true, obviously. Probably not even true in his world, even if that's a new revelation. Better not to finish that sentence. "I meant what I said. Not that thing about ignorance, but about wanting to learn— it being a real discipline."
Sudden flashbacks to the academy and his least favorite teacher, frankly. Awful start.
no subject
"What I do is very disciplined," he says smoothly, splaying his hands on the table. "And I work in many fields. But you must understand, also, that there are many witches and wizards who do not work in academia and still live with magic as a total lifestyle. We have shop clerks and janitors and housewives the same as anyone."
Severus is working on adapting a calming draught for someone completely fucking crazy (spoilers: Corvo), and on the table before him are notes, plants, jars with strange things in them, tools... a slim blade is set near his fingertips, the edge still dyed with pigment from flower petals.
"I'm curious why you want to know."
no subject
"Because I like knowing things."
The answer comes out a bit more blunt than he'd intended. Fitz isn't exactly a smooth talker at the best of times, and right now he's distracted, eyeing the varied supplies on the table. Rather than backpedal or show any embarrassment over the candid answer, he simply barrels on, filling the short gap of silence before Severus can get a word in.
"What's that you're working on?"
no subject
"A calming draught." There is a cauldron behind him, or something very much like one anyway - you will not believe how much shopping he did on Arima, okay, it was insane, and then a bunch of elf jerks had to go killing people and harshing everyone's vibe - but for now, he's working on preparing the elements that will go into it. "It is not like a tranquilizer. Potions, when brewed correctly, can effect a person like a true emotion. Enchantments are woven into them, subtle and delicate, with no need for resorting to extreme chemicals and narcotics."