"I hardly need a kitchen," he points out mildly as he stands from his seat, where he's been fiddling with a small... looks like a marble? It's not a marble. But it's carefully nestled in a box before he moves away from the desk.
"I much prefer the library. And the laboratory space."
"Oh, you know, normal things that happen around here. Someone showed up. Someone who has fucked up the people who are actually important to me. And then I - broke my warden over it." He shrugs.
"Basically, I'm making some really great choices."
"Yeah, that sucks, too," he admits. "And I - well, I don't think I fucked up that badly. I mean, with Tim? Yeah. But I don't think they're right about it. But - that's not why I came here. I really, really don't need the advice."
Dracula, for his part, raises a hand and a box on one of the shelves opens as mirror shards slip out. They fly to the central corridor of the room and assemble loosely. He manipulates them with a hand.
"Magic is in many ways a science and in other ways an art. It sits between the two, an outward expression of internal intent, shaped by the means at one's disposal."
The shards suddenly reflect an image, one of the deck up above, the stars above them, and then it darkens and they slide together, returning to the box. He closes his hand to close said box.
"Magical blood is but one source of energy for such an action, but there are others."
"You can utilize concentrated, stored magical energy such as through the use of an enchanted artifact or item," he starts off, "which is quick and dirty but limited. Or you can utilize ritual, which takes longer but offers more opportunities and options."
"So, use a magical wand or draw chalk marks on the floor with spooky candles?" he asks. Despite the smirk, he takes all of it as seriously as if Dracula was giving a physics lesson.
"Listen, I'm all for quick and dirty in a pinch, but that's not usually my MO. I prefer to have a little more control over what I'm doing," he tells him. Even if it might not seem that way to an outsider.
"As you wish," he says with a dip of his head and a small smile. He holds up a finger and leaps up into one of the sections of the book shelves to pick out a few volumes before floating down effortlessly and holding them out to Jacobi.
"These will help with your understandings of the basics, the various sources of energy you can utilize, as well as the scripts often used and some of the common components." He gestures towards the little chalk board he has.
"But I can get you started on the basic ideology."
He takes the books and tucks them close, idly flipping through them. "Are these in English or am I also learning whatever godforsaken language you actually speak?" he wonders with a smile, turning towards the chalkboard with interest.
Because, of course, that's exactly what he would do.
"Neither, actually," he says with a low chuckle, "which is why the first spell we will learn is one to help you in translating text and spoken words."
He's going to start writing out a few things, starting with the words magic = science + art + ???.
"You're a man of science, and so I know you will understand that when I say such an understanding can be as much help as hindrance, you will understand. It is akin to knowing a language similar to another, but not the same."
"Interconnection," he says with a gesture to the ??? on there, "how a material or word or symbol connects with other things, which depending on the object in question, can be very set... or which can be wildly variable."
He reaches up and touches a lock of his own hair.
"This... is a biological piece of me. It was grown from my head, and contains my genetic material. Science connects what is in here with what I am in a way that is orderly and easily understood. But the magical connection between my hair and myself is far more variable and 'looser', for the lack of a better word. It is dependent on perception, on history, on feeling. Factors which are hard to define and in many cases hard to know."
He gestures to the books.
"One reason that many components are non-organic or animal based is because the variables are relatively fixed. It's what makes the magic stable enough to use reliably."
He reminds himself to ask Warren for his laptop back so he can get all of this down. For now, he pulls out his communicator to take notes just for himself.
Stretching his arms out in front of him, he crosses his ankles. "Alright, so - if you change the components around - " He hesitates, waiting for the answer.
"It depends upon the manner in which you change the components," he answers, "as well as which components you change. Certain adjustments may simply not work at all, while others will change the result and still others might have startling and unfortunate outcomes. In this way, it is very much like science, though the nature of the changes is where it becomes singularly more complicated and subjective."
"Which is where it's more like art?" he mutters. "Alright, alright." He sits forward a bit, his arms on his legs. "So I assume that people have gone through and fucked with the formulas enough that you know what you can change and what you can't?"
"As much as you can do when art is involved. The more experimental you get, and the more you substitute pieces, the less like the original result yours will be."
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He is a man of simple pleasures.
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Dracula is on the first floor, at a small desk not far from the door. The fireplace isn't far either.
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He walks inside, hands in his pockets.
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"I much prefer the library. And the laboratory space."
A pause.
"...don't suppose I get to hear what's happened?"
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"Basically, I'm making some really great choices."
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"I attacked my own son," he offers gently.
He tilts his head to one side.
"At least you've figured out rather more quickly how much you've fucked up. That counts for something."
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Instead, his clawed hand extends towards Jacobi to usher him over.
"What do you know about magic, incidentally?"
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"Magic is in many ways a science and in other ways an art. It sits between the two, an outward expression of internal intent, shaped by the means at one's disposal."
The shards suddenly reflect an image, one of the deck up above, the stars above them, and then it darkens and they slide together, returning to the box. He closes his hand to close said box.
"Magical blood is but one source of energy for such an action, but there are others."
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"What are the others?" he wonders, hands still in his pockets.
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"Though both can take other forms."
He looks to Jacobi.
"Does either intrigue you more?"
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"So, let's go with ritual."
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"These will help with your understandings of the basics, the various sources of energy you can utilize, as well as the scripts often used and some of the common components." He gestures towards the little chalk board he has.
"But I can get you started on the basic ideology."
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Because, of course, that's exactly what he would do.
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He's going to start writing out a few things, starting with the words magic = science + art + ???.
"You're a man of science, and so I know you will understand that when I say such an understanding can be as much help as hindrance, you will understand. It is akin to knowing a language similar to another, but not the same."
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"So what's the missing piece?" he wonders, gesturing to the board. "Science, art, and what?"
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He reaches up and touches a lock of his own hair.
"This... is a biological piece of me. It was grown from my head, and contains my genetic material. Science connects what is in here with what I am in a way that is orderly and easily understood. But the magical connection between my hair and myself is far more variable and 'looser', for the lack of a better word. It is dependent on perception, on history, on feeling. Factors which are hard to define and in many cases hard to know."
He gestures to the books.
"One reason that many components are non-organic or animal based is because the variables are relatively fixed. It's what makes the magic stable enough to use reliably."
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Stretching his arms out in front of him, he crosses his ankles. "Alright, so - if you change the components around - " He hesitates, waiting for the answer.
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"Alright, got it. So what's first?" he wonders.
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