i got the maaaagic in meee [OPEN]
WHO: Zelgadis, people, ~*magic*~
WHERE: That poor, abused vacant lot where all the magic and fighting happens when it's not the type bent on destroying everything forever
WHEN: Saturday and Sunday afternoons
WARNINGS: Idk you tell me
SUMMARY: Guess who got his magic back finally? Time to make sure none of his spells will like be horribly mangled like last time.
FORMAT: No I do not care
He's got his notebook - a tattered, overused mess of clumped-up pages stuffed in with the spiral-bound pages still barely clinging on after so much wear and tear. It's all from memory, everything scratched and scrawled down (with a few architectural doodles here or there of no real importance); the power words for spells big and small within his capacity - or just slightly out of his reach. He's always learning, after all. Or trying to. Living in a world so empty in magic makes it a challenge. Not to mention the conventions of other people's magic being different in ways he hasn't managed to bridge...yet.
The walls of the buildings surrounding the lot light up now and then with the flashes of fire and light; smoke billows and the ground gives a shake or two at times. It's controlled chaos with no victims but a few jutted rocks and the air around him.
He's got a long list to get through, and he feels a little pressed for time. The City does like piling on the crises, after all...
WHERE: That poor, abused vacant lot where all the magic and fighting happens when it's not the type bent on destroying everything forever
WHEN: Saturday and Sunday afternoons
WARNINGS: Idk you tell me
SUMMARY: Guess who got his magic back finally? Time to make sure none of his spells will like be horribly mangled like last time.
FORMAT: No I do not care
He's got his notebook - a tattered, overused mess of clumped-up pages stuffed in with the spiral-bound pages still barely clinging on after so much wear and tear. It's all from memory, everything scratched and scrawled down (with a few architectural doodles here or there of no real importance); the power words for spells big and small within his capacity - or just slightly out of his reach. He's always learning, after all. Or trying to. Living in a world so empty in magic makes it a challenge. Not to mention the conventions of other people's magic being different in ways he hasn't managed to bridge...yet.
The walls of the buildings surrounding the lot light up now and then with the flashes of fire and light; smoke billows and the ground gives a shake or two at times. It's controlled chaos with no victims but a few jutted rocks and the air around him.
He's got a long list to get through, and he feels a little pressed for time. The City does like piling on the crises, after all...