retroductions | reverie inbox.

There is, yes. That is why I can do such things as...

[ well. there's truth in that she does like to show off. plucking the strings of Reverie's "Weave", murmuring—Altering Herself.

within moments, Herlock Sholmes is sitting in the library next to... Herlock Sholmes! ]

This!

[ right down to the voice ]

[!!!

The surprises him enough that he leans back quite suddenly, just short of falling out of her chair.]

That is-!

[He hardly knows what to say for a moment, gawking at his own face.]

-outstanding!

[Looks at her with quite serious enthusiasm!!]

Tell me you can teach me the same! Imagine the applications as this might apply to my many disguises!

[ PREENING, and content to pose for Sholmes' perusal. he will find it to be almost a perfect match—barring anything she hasn't gotten close enough to note. now, they've been pretty damn close. but we have established that she's also not exceptionally perceptive, so certain things may be ever-so-slightly off. notably, she has mimicked the tobacco stains on his hand, indicating that she truly took that conversation to heart ]

That is what we will see, Herlock.

[It is nearly a perfect match, minus maybe only a slight difference in micromannerisms that it would be unfair to point out. After all, not everyone can be a great detective and notices even the minutiae, nor can everyone be him; for what's worth, Sprezzatura is doing quite a good job of mimicking. He wonders if that is the work, fully, of the spell itself.]

Then what are we waiting for, good fellow- Er, madam! [He reaches out to clasp a hand on other-him's shoulder. Partly out of curiosity, partly out of enthusiasm.] Let us begin! I shall be changing my face in no time flat.

[Probably not.]

[ >it's a 2nd level spell
>probably not.

she's completely solid under his hand, perfectly Sholmes-like in just about every conceivable way. then the guise melts off, dissolving, evaporating, and she leans back in her chair, arms crossed ]

We start with theory. What is "Weave"?

[ i'm not typing this lecture out a second time, but suffice to say, it's gonna be equally dense to that textbook. ]

[Probably not. But a man can dream!

Ah, what a shame to watch that handsome face fade away. But Sholmes settles back in his chair properly and rest his elbow on the table -- wherever there's room, at least.

Fast forward past all the explanations.]

I see... [That is a lot of information. His brain may or may not file it all away for future reference.] So, where does one start when it comes to manipulating this source of magic?

You first must be able to find it. And this is challenging part, for you.

And why do you think so? Even those who have no training at all must start somewhere, is that not right?

It will be difficult because you are from somewhere else completely, and what is here is not what I know, so what I am telling you... it is only similar, at best. This will be like feeling in dark for something I describe but does not exactly exist, here.

Perhaps that is true. And perhaps—despite my genius intellect, of course—that I may still not grasp the concept wholly. But knowledge is knowledge, and knowing what exists beyond the scope of my rather mundane world is worth learning.

And I do like to hear your enthusiasm when you explain it to me, as well.

[ —at that last bit, her gaze flicks up towards him from beneath her lashes, and away again. ]

Then begin by closing your eyes and quietening your thoughts.

[ she is aware that, for his lightning mind, she may well be asking the impossible ]

[Hm, well. He can certainly try; the first part is easy enough. Sholmes closes his eyes, exhaling gently. His thoughts, however, are not so easily quieted -- even with vision out of the picture, all of his other senses seek stimulation. The hardness of the chair he sits on, any rustling of movement from Sprezzatura, the musty scent of the many books she's already collected.]

All right. Very quiet, indeed!

[no]

[ no. places a finger over his lips. ]

Herlock.

[He opens his eyes at the sensation of her finger over his lips, blinking in surprise.]

Hm!

[ they've slept together so at this point she feels she has leave to do this ]

Shhh. Quiet.

[Even if they hadn't slept together, honestly, she would have permission to do this.

Whispers:]

Was I not?

Not if you can hear that lovely voice of yours.

Oh, you flatter me.

[Smiling, bright as always.]

But very well. Let me try once more.

[Closes his eyes this time — and though some form of miracle, manages to remain quiet.]

[ she leans back into her seat, eyes on him.

a bare murmur, ] Now you are feeling for minute variations in air. Like breeze. Like breath.

[ …

He listens. But then:]

Can I ask a question?

[Like a real student, here.]

Yes. You may.

How am I to know the vibrations or variations are what I am looking for? Or not the ones that emanate from your moving in your chair, or the ventilation system of the library, or an errant draft brushing by?

[The woes of noticing too much.]

[ oh, that's a good question. she's pleased. ]

Well... for your examples. How did you learn to tell which is which? I think, right now, Weave will be silent thing to you. Noise that has always existed, and so you have always thought it was not there.

...Does this make sense?

[And that does make sense; a fine and logical explanation.]

Ah, yes. Focus upon what is new and unusual, yes?

[Well, falling into silence again for a moment.]

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