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arcanarumlogs2013-01-14 03:49 pm
though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
When: December 10th
Where: Casa Waver.
What: Stiles finds his spark. Literally.
Warnings:
Now that things around the island had finally settled down, Stiles had been pondering the presents. There had been two boxes, and while his first one had his trusty red sweatshirt--useful, if a lousy ironic reminder of his humanity--the second had. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was insanely frustrating for Stiles, who liked to figure out everything, and he'd spent all of this evening ranting about it to Waver.
(No one else would listen.)
Stiles wasn't sure if Waver was actually listening, but Scott was busy with Allison and Derek was busy with...brooding, or something. Or at least that's what he'd assumed when he was six inches deep in a pile of books. While he'd not yet figured out where his present might have come from, Stiles started to go through Waver's library of books and various things he'd wished up, taking notes on things that could or could not be useful. Besides, he'd had an inkling. He wasn't sure if it was a good inkling, but it was an inkling. And the more books he read, the more confident he started to feel.
"What are you doing in there?"
The question wasn't directed towards Waver, but towards the person he'd assumed was brooding. About halfway through the evening Derek had just. Shown up. (As he does), and gone off to do something important (probably brooding related). At this point Stiles was used to him coming in and out of his life, enough to completely tune him out until his attention span finally wavered and he cracked his neck, pushing away from the large spellbook that was making his eyes swim.
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"Historically we've probably pilfered what was useful from older practices where Wicca has similar roots, but," Waver pauses to pool his thoughts together, to remember his history properly. "Wicca's a modern religion, and the casting has a spiritual purpose. Magecraft does not share that aspect. We impose our will on the world around us - take our magic energy and the energy of the world around us, chanel it through ourselves and let our wills snaggle and attach itself in the world, so that the laws of nature bow to us."
Oh he could get out another whiteboard and document everything, but that's not the point. "Really we're all bastards on permenent power trips. Which isn't to say that either discpline is without its shared truths. After all, all understandings of magic come from one platonic ideal of the word, and even magecraft conceeds that belief can power any system of magic. The more that use and believe in it's powers, the better. And with regards to of strength of will, well-- you've seen Rider now. I summoned that, and I shouldn't have been able to do so at all."
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It wasn't a bad idea, but he'd keep it to himself for now. Whatever Waver could teach him, he could pass on to Scott. If anyone else in the world had a strong will? It'd be him, and there was no one else Stiles would trust in such a life threatening situation. Tuning in fully to the rest of Waver's explanation, Stiles pushes his hands deep in his pockets, exhaling loudly. "It's not like I can just google it. So I guess we've gotta work with what we've got."
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"And what we have is books full of spells. Which isn't a bad place to start, if we're looking to be able to be defensive on a higher level. Diagrams - bounded fields - can help to protect houses in non-mountian ash emergencies, which would let you preserve your stock and mark territory. It's simple casting and I believe compatiable with prior experience. The only other simpler spells I know are the ones my grandmother passed onto me through inheritence and well, you really, really don't need to hear her disgusting drinking songs that revealed way too much personal information."
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Swallowing that thought, he turns his gaze up to look at him, lacing his fingers together as he sits back on the couch, letting them drop between his knees as he ponders it. It's a mix of excitement and apprehension, and Stiles finally declares, "...'s worth a shot. I mean, hell, what's the worst that could happen? Besides like accidentally setting the island on fire or something."
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It's mostly just a rhetorical question--to be honest, he's got a voracious appetite for information when he's doing something he enjoys. Studying magic? The possibility that he might actually have some magical talent? Something he enjoys. Rolling his head in an exaggeration of an eyeroll, he drops his hand onto the pile of books, drawing his mouth into a line. "Guess I'll get crackin'."
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"When you're done, we'll begin practically. It gives me time to design a curriculum."
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