Bartimaeus of Uruk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
likesfootnotes) wrote2010-05-14 05:34 pm
likesfootnotes) wrote2010-05-14 05:34 pm
Entry tags:
1st summon [audio]
Saved!
[There is an unmistakable air of vindictive triumph to the voice, and a squelch that just might be a blob of essence thrusting gelatinous limbs into the air to celebrate. This disolves into the sounds of dripping, as the blob falls apart and reforms sluggishly on. Then a few sloshes as Bartimaeus takes a gander at his surroundings and the device in front of him.]
No pretentious Mr. Mandrake here? Those were the sharp hooks of a summon I felt tearing at my essence. Not that I'm here to complain! Between an untimely and undignified death by silver tureen and a summoning to his presence, I would have to take his presence, even withstanding his atrocious fashion sense, the stench of that horrible prepubescent cologne he wears, and that terrible propaganda story-telling he does.
[Some more sloshing as he makes sure the insults have not done their part to summon up the magician. Nope, no silver-tipped spear being angrily thrust in his direction. This makes him pause; the only thing that could summon him would be his master, and the distinct lack therein suggests Mr. Mandrake did not survive to see through the summoning. That must mean he is home, sweet home!]
This is oddly well-formed for being the Other Place. Someone is being a little over ambitious. There are far too many spirits that like physical things lately -- skeletons, yucky fleshy bodies, and making rooms of our home. That's not a good sense of style.
[There is an unmistakable air of vindictive triumph to the voice, and a squelch that just might be a blob of essence thrusting gelatinous limbs into the air to celebrate. This disolves into the sounds of dripping, as the blob falls apart and reforms sluggishly on. Then a few sloshes as Bartimaeus takes a gander at his surroundings and the device in front of him.]
No pretentious Mr. Mandrake here? Those were the sharp hooks of a summon I felt tearing at my essence. Not that I'm here to complain! Between an untimely and undignified death by silver tureen and a summoning to his presence, I would have to take his presence, even withstanding his atrocious fashion sense, the stench of that horrible prepubescent cologne he wears, and that terrible propaganda story-telling he does.
[Some more sloshing as he makes sure the insults have not done their part to summon up the magician. Nope, no silver-tipped spear being angrily thrust in his direction. This makes him pause; the only thing that could summon him would be his master, and the distinct lack therein suggests Mr. Mandrake did not survive to see through the summoning. That must mean he is home, sweet home!]
This is oddly well-formed for being the Other Place. Someone is being a little over ambitious. There are far too many spirits that like physical things lately -- skeletons, yucky fleshy bodies, and making rooms of our home. That's not a good sense of style.
no subject
Does he prefer the Red Hot Stipples or the Punitive Jab? Both can be endured, but they can be very uncomfortable!
Fortunate for him, summoning me without a pentacle may be an act that deserves cold vengeance.
no subject
[She is distracted by the gurgling.]
To my knowledge, he does not use either. But I am yet to be punished for starting a fight.
[She hesitates. Short of going looking for him, she is not going to discover anything else this way, and her curiosity is piqued.]
Forgive me, but you do not sound... Human. Do you mind if I ask what you are?
no subject
[Bartimaeus must consider how to phrase this to the best of his reputation. It hardly fits one of his stature to admit he is nothing particular in form at this exact minute, though he can freely admit what he is in essence.]
The concept of me is an extremely fluid one. You sound human, so I will try to phrase it in a way you will understand. I am a djinni, and one of the fourth level. In case you are ignorant of this means, I am something to be revered and quite possibly feared.
no subject
You are a magical being.
[Who may be summoned with the use of magic symbols and is vulnerable to silver. These concepts are not unfamiliar to her. A djinni, however, is.]
Forgive me. As you say, I am human. Why should you be revered? What power do you possess that could inspire fear?
[In the most flattering manner possible, exactly what are you capable of?]
no subject
I have fought against the golems at the siege of Prague! I caused Ramuthra to flee by my mere presence! I defeated Jabor in that same fell swoop! I have done all these things and you ask why I should be revered? What I possess to inspire fear?
[How dare this insolence exist! Rather, this is the insult presented in his voice. Her words, however, are flattering enough. She did admit herself human, a fairly low creature that few are pleased to come to terms with. Most attempt to be something more.]
Your ignorance can be forgiven this time, human. In exchange, I charge you to give me your name.
no subject
Unfortunately, I am familiar with neither that place nor those names. This is not my world. I would venture that it is also not yours.
[Unfamiliarity is not ignorance, but Sabriel's explanation serves only as a distraction while she tries to discern why a request for an introduction has struck her as so peculiar.]
My name is Sabriel. And yours?
[Too late she realizes; free magic beings from her own world seldom ask for a name. And the request was not for an introduction at all.]
no subject
[Bartimaeus sounds flabbergasted. Maybe if he had referenced something about Old Zimbabwe or speaking with Solomon, then not knowing it would be acceptable. That information is rather dated, but Ramuthra and Jabor were within the past five years! What can he rest on but his laurels? Especially in his current viscous state. He recovers momentarily and addresses the more dignified portion of the discussion.]
Sabriel, then. You may know me as Bartimaeus.
[Lacking the appendages for a spidery cartwheel and dance, Bartimaeus refrains from the typical show of glee at knowing her name. True, there is little chance it is her birth name, but it does confirm that she has that human fallacy called compliance. Even a blob such as he can command it, or so he is pleasantly telling himself.]
If this place is not your world, and in its ignorance is not mine, and yet further is not the Other Place, then what is it? Humans crave purposes along with form, so what is its purpose?
no subject
This is the Elegante. It is a passenger liner under considerable magical influence. So it's purpose would be to carry us to our destination, I suppose. There are also many aboard who are not human at all. They come from other places - other worlds - as well.
no subject
Ah, of course there is magic. How many magicians are there?
[Bartimaeus wants to know how many people he is going to be avoiding. There is someone else at the top of that particular list.]
Ah, any other djinni? Maybe crazed looking middle-aged men who like to float and lock djinni in silver tureens?
no subject
[The nicety slips from Sabriel's mouth completely devoid of sarcasm, but her smile is patently insincere. What sort of back-handed compliment was that?]
I am sorry, I don't know everyone aboard, let alone how many are capable of magic, though the Captain is certainly. Why do you ask?
[She may just find that out before admitting to being a mage herself.]
I would not recognize a djinni were I to meet him in the halls, but I have heard no-one claiming to be, no. And as for crazed men... Again, the Captain, certainly.
no subject
[Bartimaeus dislikes all these references to the Captain. Wizard, nutjob, or possibly another Faquarl grown too accustomed to the disgusting idea of being in a human body. Yuck, the idea still makes his slime tingle.]
Then, ah, I may let him keep his peace for now. It would only be fair.
[One intimate encounter with a soup tureen is enough for him.]
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Though he will most likely let you keep your peace if you let him do likewise.
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[Bartimaeus would like a word with this captain, yes, but the longer he puddles here, the more it occurs to him that meeting whatever charge has been made of him here will send him back there sooner. Having half drowned in clam chowder, that is not a dish he is likely to crave.]
I might allow him a respite from my presence. Summoning can be quite the ordeal. [Cough, yes; this is Bartimaeus being gracious and not a sludgy pile incapable of defeating a sponge sent to mop him up.]
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[Oh he is being ever-so-gracious, isn't he? Why, one would almost think him reluctant.]
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[Reluctant? No, dear Sabriel. Pride dictates he not admit that, nor the part where he is hesitant or wary. There are standards to adhere to, after all.]
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[Speaking of pride, Sabriel's has been quite offended. A dislike of mages, she could understand. But though she may be taken for a necromancer at first glance, she is not corrupt thank-you-very-much. This is Sabriel, hanging up.]