[the news of the attack on libertas comes swiftly after—be it through an announcement from the council or the general state of the other summoned reporting on it. it is normal to feel nervous, even worried about the circumstances; the war had been an inevitably cloud hanging over the heads since they had first arrived, one of the very first things ever mentioned when contacting those in the other factions. an element that sam had touched upon in his speech when he invited most, if not all, of the summoned.
it is unsurprising that the free cities retaliate, but at least it doesn't result in loss of lives, as far as reports go. there is a weary stalemate between thorne and the free cities, and while solvunn is pulled unscathed from this whole situation, it is normal that there is tension in the air.
the expectation for the other shoe to drop.
wanda sends an invitation to anyone interested, to those who may be restless or just wanting in company. she will be found a ways away from the farm, where the surrounding forest opens into a clearing, where a structure stands. wanda sits there, legs crossed, hands placed at her knee; she's dressed casual today, in an attire so dissonant from solvunn, threads pulled forth through her magic—jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. she waits a moment, and then speaks up.]
Magic knows no master. It belongs to neither gods nor man.
[these are words, she knows, that could make things rather difficult for her to explain to the council of solvunn. still—]
At least that is how it works in my universe.
[she knows that while in abraxas, one can learn magic. she knows, too, that many of those who are here have never even considered magic a possibility or a resource at their fingertips. to unlock it might be a matter of believing, really, and have intent, but mostly believing.
as the shadows pull longer as the sun sinks closer to the horizon, wanda reaches forward with her hand, scarlet surrounding her hand, and casts an easy spell, bringing fire to the campfire in the middle of the structure.]
—SOLVUNN [ OTA · magic lessons ]
it is unsurprising that the free cities retaliate, but at least it doesn't result in loss of lives, as far as reports go. there is a weary stalemate between thorne and the free cities, and while solvunn is pulled unscathed from this whole situation, it is normal that there is tension in the air.
the expectation for the other shoe to drop.
wanda sends an invitation to anyone interested, to those who may be restless or just wanting in company. she will be found a ways away from the farm, where the surrounding forest opens into a clearing, where a structure stands. wanda sits there, legs crossed, hands placed at her knee; she's dressed casual today, in an attire so dissonant from solvunn, threads pulled forth through her magic—jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. she waits a moment, and then speaks up.]
Magic knows no master. It belongs to neither gods nor man.
[these are words, she knows, that could make things rather difficult for her to explain to the council of solvunn. still—]
At least that is how it works in my universe.
[she knows that while in abraxas, one can learn magic. she knows, too, that many of those who are here have never even considered magic a possibility or a resource at their fingertips. to unlock it might be a matter of believing, really, and have intent, but mostly believing.
as the shadows pull longer as the sun sinks closer to the horizon, wanda reaches forward with her hand, scarlet surrounding her hand, and casts an easy spell, bringing fire to the campfire in the middle of the structure.]
I can share what I know.