"Better how?" he mutters. "Does it make it last longer?" He closes his eyes, recalls the sigil and practices it on the parchment with the hand not covered in the soot.
"Way too many, yeah," he agrees and then settles over the parchment, drawing the sigil with the soot. He speaks the word, exactly as he heard it, but it doesn't disappear.
"Hm."
He inspects his work, thinking it might be a flaw in the actual mark.
He makes the adjustment and he says the word again and this time, it actually works.
"Whoa," he says softly, watching the sign disappear. "So, where does it go?" he asks, brushing off his hands as he hesitantly reaches over for the books. He's a little afraid to open them. Afraid to see if it actually...works.
And Dracula will chuckle and wave a hand towards him, making the fire a little warmer for comfort since the place is otherwise a bit of a tomb (badum ching) and he leaves him to read for the time being.
There are few joys he savors more than being in the room with someone whose company he enjoys, quietly reading.
He doesn't even realize the hour is gone until the words shuffle again in his head. He blinks and they change, suddenly no longer making sense to him at all. He rubs at his eyes, as if a little disbelieving.
"Okay, well, that was trippy and in a very weird way. So that's...just a thing I can do now?"
"Apparently," Dracula says with a low chuckle as he stands up from his own seat and walks over. "Keep the bottle for your use, though obviously you can make your own. But I prepared it for you, after all. You can also borrow the books for a time; they'll introduce some subjects and principles of what we'll be working with."
"All of both, yes. There is... a lot of philosophy in there. And while it doesn't involve direct application, it will... give you a context for what you'll be learning."
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"If it disappears, you can take a look at those books."
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"What's in the bottle?" he wonder, taking it and giving it a quick inspection before he tips it open into his hands. "Specifically."
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He rubs the contents between his fingers.
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He goes into professor voice as he continues.
"There's even some who consider it better to draw the mark with the soot and sprinkle the salt as you speak the verbal component. 'Art', as I said."
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"Way too many, yeah," he agrees and then settles over the parchment, drawing the sigil with the soot. He speaks the word, exactly as he heard it, but it doesn't disappear.
"Hm."
He inspects his work, thinking it might be a flaw in the actual mark.
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"Just a light press of your finger there should do it. And as long as the mark is down, you should be able to speak the word."
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"Whoa," he says softly, watching the sign disappear. "So, where does it go?" he asks, brushing off his hands as he hesitantly reaches over for the books. He's a little afraid to open them. Afraid to see if it actually...works.
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"Oh. Oh. I see."
He pulls the book from the table and takes it over to a chair so he can sit and read it properly. .
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There are few joys he savors more than being in the room with someone whose company he enjoys, quietly reading.
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"Okay, well, that was trippy and in a very weird way. So that's...just a thing I can do now?"
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Because now that he knows he can do fucking magic, he's going to master this and come back for more as much as he can.
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He's in no rush.
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He does not sound scared by that task; he appreciates a challenge. He stands up to gather the remainder and the bottle.
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"All of both, yes. There is... a lot of philosophy in there. And while it doesn't involve direct application, it will... give you a context for what you'll be learning."
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He balances them in his arms. "Got it," he grins as he starts for the door. "Thanks for this."
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"You're one of the few I've met who I trust to have the precision not to blow themselves up with it."
It's sort of a compliment. Sort of just fondness.
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