[ He stiffens the first time Warren arrives, ignores his exit as best he can. The second time, however, is a bit harder to ignore, considering the man addresses him directly. And Dorian is never one to pass up on a conversation. ]
I'll have to pass, thanks all the same.
[ The words come out tightly, sharpened by his discomfort. The broken rib certainly isn't doing him any favors, nor is the way his body aches from the repeated blows of the previous day. ]
[ Against his better judgment, he sits up carefully, a hand moving to his injured rib when it sends pain up his side. With his other hand, he wraps the blankets more tightly around himself -- he hates the cold. ]
You leave me little choice. [ Rather than sounding resigned, there's annoyance in his voice. Anger. ]
[ A set of runes on either wall flare to life, erecting a barrier between the wizard and the mage. The flames spread over the invisible wall, but it holds. Warren slams the wards back into place with a snap of his fingers ]
[ When the wards come back into play, it briefly knocks the breath from him, and Dorian lets out a soft grunt. He braces his arm around his middle again, leaning back against the wall.
When he's caught his breath again, he responds dryly with, ]
[ He hesitates again, reluctance written on his face. He settles at last on the short version: ]
I-- have a connection to another plane of existence. I expend energy to draw power, and when you put up these blighted wards, you effectively drain that energy from me.
[ There’s that grin again, and he grabs a notebook from the top of his pile to jot down some notes. ] Another plane of existence? Fascinating. Is that where you’re from or are you simply connected?
[ Warren gives him a flat look for half a second before sketching out a quick spell- it’s not enough to throw Dorian around this time, more like the equivalent to a punch in the gut. ]
[ Warren is nothing if not a man of his word, which is to say that he doesn’t find that answer sufficient so he casts yet another spell and promptly breaks Dorian’s wrist. ]
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I'll have to pass, thanks all the same.
[ The words come out tightly, sharpened by his discomfort. The broken rib certainly isn't doing him any favors, nor is the way his body aches from the repeated blows of the previous day. ]
Help yourself, if you'd like.
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Are you feeling up to answering some questions? Or will I have to beat the answers out of you, too?
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You leave me little choice. [ Rather than sounding resigned, there's annoyance in his voice. Anger. ]
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Do you have the capability to heal that?
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No, I don't. [ words sharp and clipped. ] I've many talents, but healing isn't one of them.
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You could always drop your dampening field, if you're so keen to find out.
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[ he says, while an immolate spell lies in wait behind his teeth. ]
I either heal myself, or I won't. Isn't that what you're testing for, here?
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and then both palms fill with flame, and he reels back, flinging both fireballs toward Warren. ]
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Next question: how do you do that?
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When he's caught his breath again, he responds dryly with, ]
Magic.
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Where does the magic come from? You don't use our runes, and every time I cut you off from your power you react like it's a physical blow.
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I-- have a connection to another plane of existence. I expend energy to draw power, and when you put up these blighted wards, you effectively drain that energy from me.
Happy?
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And if it’s the latter, where are you from?
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Yes.
Middle-Earth.
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Don’t get cute with me.
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I'm not often called "cute." And I imagine neither are you used to calling someone such. New experiences all around. Hurrah.
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I’m going to ask you one more time and then I start breaking bones. Where are you from?
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Minrathous. [ and because he can't help himself, ] It's a land of fairies and pixie dust and blessings of unicorns as far as the eye can see.
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Well, then.
The shock of it is enough to rip a cry from his throat, let alone the pain, and he hunches forward, clutching his wrist to his chest.
Coherent thought? What's that? Can you eat it? ]
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That-- was unnecessary.
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