She took another step back, just to be safe, and folded her arms over her chest, watching as Edgar cast the (she assumed to be) spell upward into the air. It certainly looked like plenty of conjuring she had seen in her life.
"Hm. Interesting. Are you able to control the way it moves yet, or have you not tried?"
"The way it moves, like ... around corners or something?" His brow furrows. "Hadn't thought of that. I tried holding it in a ball, and that worked but it's how I burned my hands, so haven't tried much else that wasn't just shooting it in a line."
A pause. "Oh -- I did try making like a smaller fire, like a lit match? Couldn't make that work, it just fizzled out."
"Around corners, or in general. If it is indeed magic, you should be able to control it for a time, before it becomes mundane in nature." She explained, uncertain if all of that would go over his head.
"Would you be willing to try forming it into a ball now, and perhaps trying to toss it...? Should you burn yourself, or it goes out of control, I am, conveniently, a master of the opposite element." She chuckled.
That faint frown line remains in his forehead at her explanation, as he tries to think it through. It sounds like it makes sense, but ... well, as long as she's here, even if he fucks up it won't be too bad.
"I'll try it," he says, and holds his hands out as though to grasp a large sphere just in front of him and just over his head. Maybe he can get the ball of fire to form in the middle, away from his hands, and just stay there --
Bright reddish-yellow light flares in the spot between his hands, about the size of a plum at first, then growing swiftly to about the size of a cantaloupe. The fire curls in on itself, billowing and sending out licks of flame but mostly staying in the rough shape of a ball.
Lioriley kept her distance, watching with growing interest as the ball of flame took shape. Given what she had heard from Fjord earlier, she anticipated her potential intervention, but when Edgar gave no indication that he was in pain or hurting himself, she simply continued to watch; fascinated.
"Can you throw it?" She asked, glancing around to an open spot nearby without too many trees. "Try to aim there, between the trunks."
His hands are a good several inches away from the fireball, this time; he's learned better than to try to actually hold it.
"I'll give it a shot," he says, but doesn't sound very confident. It's a moment before the fireball moves, and it only arcs about halfway to the trees before losing coherency and dissipating, the flames twisting upward into nothingness.
Edgar makes a face. "Fuckin genius at this, I am."
"Ooh!" Lioriley beamed as she watched the fireball shoot toward the trees, clapping her hands. "That was very good!" shocking to literally no one - her praise sounded genuine, and she looked pleased when she turned toward him. "Most novices would not be able to keep it lit even that long, and your aim was quite good. We should see what else you can do."
It's not shocking, but the praise is actually a little startling to him, and gets a small pleased smile in return. "Yeah? Should I try it again, or ... I dunno, something else?"
Lioriley set a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Tempting as it is to see what else you can manage, I think we should focus on your fireball for a bit longer. Create another one and try to curve it this time - see if it can only move in a straight line or if you can control the trajectory."
This time he conjures the fireball and immediately tosses it into the air high above their heads. What he wants to do is make it hover for a moment and then bring it down in a slow spiral, circling around them toward the ground.
To his own openmouthed startlement, it works. He barely has the presence of mind to make the fire go out before it touches the grass.
Mesmerized, Lioriley watched the flame spiraling, once again absolutely astonished by his capabilities despite - as far as she knew - never handling magic in his life. A natural? Few and far between were those, but it was certainly possible. Either that, or Fae magic was just absolutely batshit powerful.
"Very good - ah." Thankfully, Lioriley had the presence of mind to prepare for the worst, and made sure to splash a bit of conjured water over the flame if he didn't get to it in time.
"You would make a very good mage with control like that." She laughed, her tone light and genuine. "Perhaps because you were able to concentrate properly and consider exactly what you wished to do - so it was all the easier to actually do it."
"Oh, most certainly. Practice will be key to controlling your abilities - I can help whenever you like, if you should need any advice." It may not have been her literal element, but the idea was more or less the same.
She smiled. "I am sure you will be able to do it on your own, without their aid. Just...keep to areas that will not cause too much damage to yourself or others. Maybe the lake? Tossing a fireball in there should not be an issue."
She blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. "You have something to show me?" Well how could she say no to that. "We can practice again sometime soon, if you wish."
"Yeah," he says, bright-eyed, and unslings the backpack from his shoulder to open it and start rummaging through. "Remember I said I might try asking for some kind of flying magic?"
What he has, apparently, is a length of some dark cloth, which he flourishes to shake out. No, two lengths, rolled together; as they unfold, it becomes a little clearer that they're a pair of cloaks. Closer examination will reveal some very complex runes stitched into the neck of each, in a faintly glossy thread of almost exactly the same color as the fabric.
Edgar holds one of the cloaks out to Lioriley, while tossing one over his shoulder with the other hand. "I wanted something I could share with somebody else," he says, "so they gave me two, if you want to borrow this one ...?"
Lioriley's head tilted, dark eyes scanning up and down the length of the offered cloak. For a moment she seemed fixated on the runes sewn into the fabric, trying to decipher them even before he moved to hand it to her.
"Oh, I would not want to take it from you for long." She said, reaching out to grasp the cloak as gingerly as possible. "But I would be happy to join you for a bit, if you care to show me how it works."
"You have to wear it for a few minutes first," he says, and demonstrates by swinging his own around his shoulders, "and it sort of gets to know you? And then you tell it what word you want to use to make it work, and then whenever you say that word --"
He spreads the cloak wide with both hands, grinning. "It turns into wings. For like an hour. And then after that it needs to rest for about a day before you can do it again."
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"Hm. Interesting. Are you able to control the way it moves yet, or have you not tried?"
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A pause. "Oh -- I did try making like a smaller fire, like a lit match? Couldn't make that work, it just fizzled out."
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"Would you be willing to try forming it into a ball now, and perhaps trying to toss it...? Should you burn yourself, or it goes out of control, I am, conveniently, a master of the opposite element." She chuckled.
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"I'll try it," he says, and holds his hands out as though to grasp a large sphere just in front of him and just over his head. Maybe he can get the ball of fire to form in the middle, away from his hands, and just stay there --
Bright reddish-yellow light flares in the spot between his hands, about the size of a plum at first, then growing swiftly to about the size of a cantaloupe. The fire curls in on itself, billowing and sending out licks of flame but mostly staying in the rough shape of a ball.
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"Can you throw it?" She asked, glancing around to an open spot nearby without too many trees. "Try to aim there, between the trunks."
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"I'll give it a shot," he says, but doesn't sound very confident. It's a moment before the fireball moves, and it only arcs about halfway to the trees before losing coherency and dissipating, the flames twisting upward into nothingness.
Edgar makes a face. "Fuckin genius at this, I am."
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This time he conjures the fireball and immediately tosses it into the air high above their heads. What he wants to do is make it hover for a moment and then bring it down in a slow spiral, circling around them toward the ground.
To his own openmouthed startlement, it works. He barely has the presence of mind to make the fire go out before it touches the grass.
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"Very good - ah." Thankfully, Lioriley had the presence of mind to prepare for the worst, and made sure to splash a bit of conjured water over the flame if he didn't get to it in time.
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He rakes a handful of hair up off his forehead, staring. "I dunno how I did that. It was like ... I don't even know what it was like."
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A beat. "Wonder if I should ask the fae for, like, the ability to put it out if I fuck up."
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She smiled. "I am sure you will be able to do it on your own, without their aid. Just...keep to areas that will not cause too much damage to yourself or others. Maybe the lake? Tossing a fireball in there should not be an issue."
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(What might happen if he did hit the Revelry with a fireball doesn't bear thinking of.)
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A pause. "D'you want me to try some more fire practice now, or ...? Cause I had something else I wanted to show you."
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She blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. "You have something to show me?" Well how could she say no to that. "We can practice again sometime soon, if you wish."
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Edgar holds one of the cloaks out to Lioriley, while tossing one over his shoulder with the other hand. "I wanted something I could share with somebody else," he says, "so they gave me two, if you want to borrow this one ...?"
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"Oh, I would not want to take it from you for long." She said, reaching out to grasp the cloak as gingerly as possible. "But I would be happy to join you for a bit, if you care to show me how it works."
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He spreads the cloak wide with both hands, grinning. "It turns into wings. For like an hour. And then after that it needs to rest for about a day before you can do it again."
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