"Not as well as! It's just.. a part of the same whole. Another sort of magic. No different than wanting to learn two different styles of dance, all told." She nodded enthusiastically at his description of sailors as token-keepers. "Only seems like good sense! What good does a little thing of power do anyone, left set on a shelf or tucked in a drawer?"
She led, and had a long, purposeful stride that had more to do with enthusiasm than impertinence. "Above the sea's surface," she murmured, tilting her head at him. "On lunar currents. I... you'll have to tell me more, when we finish here." One of her hands went to unclasp her cloak.
"We'll be going in, at least a little. If... you want to take off your boots or roll up your hems. There are generally two goals, with local ritual: either to organise and focus one's magic and spellwork, amplify its power by that organisation, or to appeal to and attract specific... other parties, often with the goal of using their strengths or skills to accomplish the goal. Like elemental-summoning. Now: do you have any sort of goal in mind, or are you just wanting to learn the rules to experiment by?"
He shook his head. "If I could explain to you, I would," he said, unclipping his own black cloak and tossing it up into the branches of a bare tree to hang there. "But I don't know how it worked, only that it worked—it made more sense when I was actually sailing."
Crouching to unbuckle his boots, he continues, "The former. I'll summon if I have to, but." Flashing a fang in a grin. "So much of my ritual-work is a talent for bullshit, Linn, you can't imagine. Best to organise my own power; easier to guess the rules there, less likely to commit some interdimensional faux pas. Before, I knew the ground rules, or I'd been around long enough to make educated guesses; seen things flower and go down in flames; pure trial and error. Here..." He shook his head. "Give me the basics. And I'll see what I can pull from them. Anything more specific than that and I'm liable to overthink it."
She held her own cloak up, hooked it on nothing, and it vanished like a shadow into more shadows. She caught his grin while bending and pulling up the hems of her leggings, and muffled a giggle.
"It's not much more complex than that, really! One treats magic... whether your own, that of the world, that of a specific domain... like a living entity. Some argue that it is one. In their most basic form, rituals all make sacrifice of bood, flesh, or bone... and at the highest peak, all three together in staggering quantity. Common rituals are all simply patterns of... of doing a thing that are more effective than other combinations. Everyone is... is bullshitting it, to use your phrase, to some degree. But it's very difficult to feel the moment of lost momentum or lost power in a ritual, the little places where something could be made better. That talent, coupled with a penchant I suppose for perfectionism, a hunger and eagerness for it, is often what distinguishes the great from the mediocre."
She stepped down the rocky bank while she spoke, and set her pale feet into the water. "We'll steal the water's light-nets, to start."
"I knew it," he said, wryly triumphant, as he slipped down the bank and came to stand by her in the icy water, though his humour covered genuine fascination—real pleasure in the idea that all that fucking around with circuitry, thaumic batteries, arcane diagrams and intense mathematics—was perhaps not as necessary as the scientist-thaumaturges of New Crobuzon or its exports insisted.
"At it's most basic, a ritual has three parts: Weave, Sacrifice, Unwind. Some people may call those different things, depending on their instruction, or may argue that there's more, but..." She smiled, slim shoulders lifting. "Basics."
She gestured at the water with spread fingertips, picking her way without splashing, moving with great care. Under the water, pale skin and sallow flesh flaked away under the strong current. The bones of her toes gripped at the worn-smooth rocks. She didn't heed it, but found the peak of a larger, wet mossy rock to fold to sit on, patting the space beside her. "We're going to magic the water around us smooth, and press droplets of our blood where we want to make the intersections of the net. The spell's a swift one— nothing pins flowing water very long— so we must move pretty quick, but without disturbing the water, where we can. A game young witches play together, but it's... it's good for learning on."
"Weave." The Brucolac waded forward, keeping pace with her. "Sacrifice...Unwind. Seems sensible enough." He noted with a sharp shock how the water ate at her skin, bones scratching at rock, but didn't mention it. Hadn't realised she was so literally dead, though he felt no disgust.
Sitting beside her, he studied the surface of the water critically, and nodded. "I'll try to keep up."
"Alright. Runes to make the water still." She touched the tip of her tongue to the point of a slender forefinger. Leaned down to the water's surface, gliding her fingertip along it slowly, so that he could see the shapes she made. They hung suspended in the water, a bluish light that shimmered and flickered like a candleflame. "I use 'mirror' and 'still', but there are dozens of other rune combinations that would accomplish the same thing. 'halt'. I attach 'mirror' to my halt-motion rune so that I get the best surface to work from, one that'll reflect light far better than something with any ripples." While she spoke, her other hand was pulling a short, thin knife from the sash 'round her waist that served in lieu of a belt. "Weave is the set-up, doing everything you must do and have ready before the moment of sacrifice. Sacrifice is where you pour all your magic in, think hard on your goals, will them to be. The critical moment."
As soon as the runes were complete, the water around them flattened and was still as a mirror. Moonlight made it radiantly silver. Quick as a cat, eyes faintly unfocused, she slashed two deep lines into the same hand which had made the runes, and then scraped the fine blade along the skin of her palm, collecting the blackish blood on the blade.
With an air of focus, and a flick of her wrist, she flung droplets of blood from the edge of the knife. They hung suspended in the still water, like ink, slowly curling; and immediately, the silver glow on the water began to dissipate, the moonlight tugging into radiant threads where the blood had landed. She flicked it several more times, unbreathing, her hands quick and clever to the work. It was only a matter of seconds before the stillness of the water began to break into ripples, the frozen-time sense of magic breaking around the edges and unraveling into motion. The strengthening current started tugging her net downstream. She caught it at the last moment with her toes, and stretched to pull it into her uncut hand with a grin.
It was an uneven little net of moonlight, fine as a spiderweb, radiantly glowing between her hands and making her pale skin shimmer. "When you're playing it as a game, you can't use a knife," she elaborated cheerily, looking over her creation.
"But... but back to teaching: your intent with the sacrifice is very important. You've got to focus on your goal, and of course you're feeding it to your own magic to help it accomplish your will, but in my experience, never give the minimum. Thing's likely to get unreliable then, and if you appeal to the other elements of the magic you're doing with, you'll always get... get a little better. For example, don't just give it to the magic you're working, but a little to the water, a thank-you for catching the light, a thank-you to the moon for letting you touch her hem."
He exhaled slowly, almost a low whistle, as she caught the net. Staring at how it hung like gossamer from her fingers.
"I understand," he said. "A little like the difference between payment and free-exchanged gifts." Magic didn't like to work for a wage; spiritual penny-pinching got one nowhere.
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no subject
She led, and had a long, purposeful stride that had more to do with enthusiasm than impertinence. "Above the sea's surface," she murmured, tilting her head at him. "On lunar currents. I... you'll have to tell me more, when we finish here." One of her hands went to unclasp her cloak.
"We'll be going in, at least a little. If... you want to take off your boots or roll up your hems. There are generally two goals, with local ritual: either to organise and focus one's magic and spellwork, amplify its power by that organisation, or to appeal to and attract specific... other parties, often with the goal of using their strengths or skills to accomplish the goal. Like elemental-summoning. Now: do you have any sort of goal in mind, or are you just wanting to learn the rules to experiment by?"
no subject
Crouching to unbuckle his boots, he continues, "The former. I'll summon if I have to, but." Flashing a fang in a grin. "So much of my ritual-work is a talent for bullshit, Linn, you can't imagine. Best to organise my own power; easier to guess the rules there, less likely to commit some interdimensional faux pas. Before, I knew the ground rules, or I'd been around long enough to make educated guesses; seen things flower and go down in flames; pure trial and error. Here..." He shook his head. "Give me the basics. And I'll see what I can pull from them. Anything more specific than that and I'm liable to overthink it."
no subject
"It's not much more complex than that, really! One treats magic... whether your own, that of the world, that of a specific domain... like a living entity. Some argue that it is one. In their most basic form, rituals all make sacrifice of bood, flesh, or bone... and at the highest peak, all three together in staggering quantity. Common rituals are all simply patterns of... of doing a thing that are more effective than other combinations. Everyone is... is bullshitting it, to use your phrase, to some degree. But it's very difficult to feel the moment of lost momentum or lost power in a ritual, the little places where something could be made better. That talent, coupled with a penchant I suppose for perfectionism, a hunger and eagerness for it, is often what distinguishes the great from the mediocre."
She stepped down the rocky bank while she spoke, and set her pale feet into the water. "We'll steal the water's light-nets, to start."
no subject
"Good. How?"
no subject
She gestured at the water with spread fingertips, picking her way without splashing, moving with great care. Under the water, pale skin and sallow flesh flaked away under the strong current. The bones of her toes gripped at the worn-smooth rocks. She didn't heed it, but found the peak of a larger, wet mossy rock to fold to sit on, patting the space beside her. "We're going to magic the water around us smooth, and press droplets of our blood where we want to make the intersections of the net. The spell's a swift one— nothing pins flowing water very long— so we must move pretty quick, but without disturbing the water, where we can. A game young witches play together, but it's... it's good for learning on."
no subject
Sitting beside her, he studied the surface of the water critically, and nodded. "I'll try to keep up."
no subject
As soon as the runes were complete, the water around them flattened and was still as a mirror. Moonlight made it radiantly silver. Quick as a cat, eyes faintly unfocused, she slashed two deep lines into the same hand which had made the runes, and then scraped the fine blade along the skin of her palm, collecting the blackish blood on the blade.
With an air of focus, and a flick of her wrist, she flung droplets of blood from the edge of the knife. They hung suspended in the still water, like ink, slowly curling; and immediately, the silver glow on the water began to dissipate, the moonlight tugging into radiant threads where the blood had landed. She flicked it several more times, unbreathing, her hands quick and clever to the work. It was only a matter of seconds before the stillness of the water began to break into ripples, the frozen-time sense of magic breaking around the edges and unraveling into motion. The strengthening current started tugging her net downstream. She caught it at the last moment with her toes, and stretched to pull it into her uncut hand with a grin.
It was an uneven little net of moonlight, fine as a spiderweb, radiantly glowing between her hands and making her pale skin shimmer. "When you're playing it as a game, you can't use a knife," she elaborated cheerily, looking over her creation.
"But... but back to teaching: your intent with the sacrifice is very important. You've got to focus on your goal, and of course you're feeding it to your own magic to help it accomplish your will, but in my experience, never give the minimum. Thing's likely to get unreliable then, and if you appeal to the other elements of the magic you're doing with, you'll always get... get a little better. For example, don't just give it to the magic you're working, but a little to the water, a thank-you for catching the light, a thank-you to the moon for letting you touch her hem."
no subject
"I understand," he said. "A little like the difference between payment and free-exchanged gifts." Magic didn't like to work for a wage; spiritual penny-pinching got one nowhere.