#Cause he's just hanging out in the background ignoring the worldbuilding rules through the whole story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnsopale · 10 months

Text

We need to talk about Childermass

Before the Return of magic to England, there are, as far as we know, only four Englishmen capable of performing acts of magic. Strange and Norrell, Childermass and Vinculus.

Strange and Norrell can do magic at will. They have both the Talent and the Learning necessary, though they approach magic from opposite sides of that spectrum. Most likely, they are able to do magic because they are the instruments of the Raven King's prophecy.

Vinculus has clear magical Talent, but not the Learning (Childermass says this in "The Cards of Marseilles": "You are a strange creature - the very reverse of all the magicians of the last centuries. They were full of learning but had no talent. You have talent and no knowledge."). I count two feats of magic from Vinculus' interactions with the tarot cards. He lays out Childermass' fortune, meaning he can make the cards respond to him; it seems that it would not be enough for a random person to just lay out the cards, you have to have some magical ability to "activate" them, so to speak, to make them actually answer your question. This makes sense, as the Cards of Marseilles were created to be playing cards; they are not inherently magical. Vinculus' other feat of magic is transforming the deck into all Raven Kings. That is a proper feat of magic, but seems to be done in respons to Childermass dismissing him as an agent of the Raven King. I suspect Vinculus can only do magic spontaneously, in moments where he is called on to herald the coming of the Raven King. He is an instrument, not a master.

In this same category, as contrast, we find John Segundus, who has the Talent and eventually the Learning, but who cannot do magic until the Return. During the war in Spain, we get a glimpse into Strange and Segundus' correspondence, where it's clear that Strange has given Segundus all the tools he needs to perform an act of scrying magic, but Segundus cannot make it work. We know that he is one of the most magic-sensitive people in the story, but he cannot master it (and is on the contrary frequently magic's chew toy, poor baby). His example is important because it tells us that for most people, no matter their affinity, magic is simply barred.

Which brings us to Childermass, who just ... doesn't care ... about the rules? He has the Talent and the Learning, and he can do spells at will. Set aside the question of why the fuck Norrell doesn't realise how insane it is that his servant can randomly do magic when no one else can, and how he can call himself England's only magician with a straight face when Childermass is RIGHT THERE. That's a question of characterisation. I'm interested in the fact that Childermass can do magic at all. The other three people capable of doing magic before the Return are all instruments of the Raven King; his prophet and the two men meant to bring the prophecy to fruition.

It seems to me impossible that Childermass should not also be an instrument of the Raven King. Anything else would break the rules of the world Clarke has built. Although to be fair, he breaks those rules already because he is a servant who is not a servant (See that quote about how he will tell a whole room full of admirals and ministers that they're idiots). But what is he? The backup plan? Or is he allowed to practice because someone has to spearhead the Restoration once Strange and Norrell are gone? Explain, Susanna! Explain!

EDIT cause I read a little further: And then fucking Tom Levy comes in in chapter 49 and RUINS EVERYTHING! How can he do magic? Was the "two magicians" thing nonsense all along?? Does this mean anyone can do magic theoretically? Is Mr Segundus simply not trying hard enough? Is magic really gone or is that just what people think? Did Strange start the Return when he travelled through his first mirror? Please say so! I am so upset! What are the rules, Susanna?? Are there even any rules? ARE THERE RULES, SUSANNA?

#Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell #JSMN #JSaMN #John Childermass #HELP #It's no wonder there's so many theories that Childermass IS the Raven King or a child of his or something #Cause he's just hanging out in the background ignoring the worldbuilding rules through the whole story #andalsothey'redescribedsimilarly #and then in comes FUCKING TOM LEVY #HOW??#I need rules Clarke!#Segundus too timid #Didn't put his whole pussy into it

21 notes · View notes

randomactuallywrites-57 · 7 years

Text

Paint the World (The Way it Should Be)

Title: Paint the World (The Way it Should Be) Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 2,291 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day four - Pendrago: Loss/Protection Summary: Everything is in place. Well, except for one thing. Notes: I decided to write a kind of role-reversal fic wherein Mikleo is a human and Sorey is a seraph. Society in this fic is a little bit different here - the main important thing is that all people can see seraphim. I’ve put together a doc of notes if you want to see some of the other background/worldbuilding I did when writing this. I’ve pasted the link at the end too, in case you’d rather read it after the fic itself. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one!

Also on: AO3

Everything is in place.

Mikleo gives the items on the table a final glance-over, but it isn’t necessary. He’s checked a thousand times; he could draw this table and its contents from memory at this point. After so long, he has everything he needs.

(Well, except for one thing.

Or rather, one person.)

To any other human, the array of items on the table might seem strange, and maybe a little bit shocking. But to Mikleo, every piece makes sense. Everything has its place, and its purpose.

Satisfied, he heads through to the kitchen, where the plate and cutlery he used an hour ago still needs to be washed. With a sigh, he pulls out a pack of matches and gets to work lighting the stove. He’s gotten pretty good at it, now - he doesn’t even catch his fingers with the flame this time. Once the stove is alight, he sets a kettle filled with water on top of it, and sits down to wait.

There’s not much else he can do, after all.

All his books lie with his clothes and some other knick-knacks in the biggest bag he could find in his tiny shared home, too deep in storage for him to dig out. His conscience reminds him of the small pile of paperwork on his desk which he could be preparing to submit, but he stops himself. There’s no need for him to complete it now, after all.

Mikleo’s never really been good at being idle. He always prefers having a purpose.

(Starting tomorrow, hopefully that won’t be a problem.)

He’s debating doing a thousand-and-first mental inventory of the table in the living room when the front door creaks open, quietly thudding in the frame.

“I’m home!”

Not a moment passes before Mikleo is out of his chair, already in the hallway before the newcomer can move from the door, let alone remove his thick travelling cloak and bags. Still, the newcomer’s face splits into a smile filled with love.

“Welcome home, Sorey,” says Mikleo, his own lips curving into a matching smile.

Sorey steps forward, connecting their smiles in a gentle kiss which Mikleo easily reciprocates, tilting his chin upward for better access. When they part, Mikleo takes a step back, allowing Sorey room to remove his cloak and bags.

“Sorry I took so long,” Sorey says, leaving his bags on the floor by the door. It’s not a sure sign that he isn’t staying long, but Mikleo wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case. “They were harder to track down than I expected.”

“Well, they are travelling merchants.” Mikleo watches as he removes his cloak, hanging it on the peg beside Mikleo’s own, a matching pair. His long ponytail tumbles from where it had been held inside the hood, falling into its natural end at the small of his back. In the dim light of the hallway, the golden-white hue shines with its own luminescence.

It’s a shame, that he has to hide it in public.

“That they are.” Sorey moves on to shucking off his boots, using Mikleo’s shoulder to prop himself up as he does. “I found them eventually, so it’s all good.”

A hint of jealousy pings within Mikleo’s heart, but he ignores it. If he lets it grow, it will only bring chaos. “Are you hungry?”

Had Sorey been human, his stomach may have growled in response. Instead, he meets Mikleo’s eyes and nods fervently. “What’s for dinner?”

“Leftovers from the past week. Take your pick.”

Sorey recognises the jab and lets go of Mikleo’s shoulder in favour of giving him a teasing push. “C’mon, I apologised already, didn’t I?”

“I know. I just haven’t figured out how not to cook for two, yet.” In his mind he adds, ‘And I’m hoping I’ll never have to.’

“I’m not complaining, if it means I get to eat your cooking when I come home!”

Mikleo rolls his eyes, turning to lead the way to the kitchen. The kettle is still heating up, the water slowly reaching higher temperatures. He ignores it in favour of opening the pantry, letting Sorey see the leftovers piled up from the previous week.

Letting out a low whistle, Sorey kneels down to look at the bottom shelves, pulling out various boxes until he finally comes across something he wants to eat. As he does this, Mikleo lights another ring on the stove, readying a pan so he can heat up the leftovers.

“It’s times like these when I wish I was a fire seraph,” Sorey says, watching him pour leftover curry into the pan. “Cooking would be so much quicker.”

“Being able to produce your own fire doesn’t make cooking times any faster.” Mikleo glances at him through the corner of his eyes. “Besides, lightning suits you far better.”

As Mikleo picks up a spoon to stir Sorey’s food, he feels arms curl around his waist, and a head rest on his shoulder. Warm lips find his jawline, pressing a few lingering kisses to it. He leans into the contact. It’s at times like these when he remembers just how much Sorey has a penchant for physical contact.

“How was your trip?” he asks eventually, determined not to fall asleep in this comfortable position.

Sorey pauses in his kisses to answer. “It was good! The seraph with the merchants was completely different from what I expected, though.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. His teeth were all pointy, and he scowled a lot.”

“Sounds friendly.”

“He agreed, though.” Sorey smiles into Mikleo’s shoulder. “He said he’d join the cause.”

Mikleo turns his head and nudges Sorey until their lips meet, a little clumsy from this angle. “Good job.”

“Thanks.” Sorey chases his lips, but Mikleo turns back to face the stove.

“If you don’t want your food burnt, you should probably stop distracting me.”

“You know you love it.” Still, with only one more chaste kiss to his cheek, Sorey backs off, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “But yeah, he and the merchants all want to help out. Isn’t that awesome?”

It really is. It’s revolutionary, in fact - humans and seraphim working together towards freedom. The whole Glenwood continent, uniting no matter their race or nationality.

This has been their dream for as long as Mikleo can remember. And now, it is becoming a reality.

But it’s not enough, to watch it happen from the sidelines.

“How have things been for you?” Sorey asks, unaware of Mikleo’s change in thoughts. “No one has been harassing you, have they?”

“No one suspects anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Mikleo stirs the curry, watching bubbles begin to appear when he leaves the spoon still. “Everything is the same as ever. Nothing ever changes in that place.”

“I suppose it is the palace,” Sorey says, shrugging. “They have rules for how things work, right?”

“It’s not just the rules, though. The people never change. Their talk never changes.” Mikleo feels his annoyance bubbling up and tries to quell it. It would do no good for him to become angry about this.

Sorey senses the change in atmosphere. In a gentler tone, he says, “They’ll understand eventually.”

“Maybe so, but their opinions won’t change.”

The water in the kettle simmers, bubbles popping against the metal.

“Mikleo, what are you trying to say?”

“The same thing as I’m always trying to say.” Mikleo removes the pan of curry from the stove, extinguishing the flame before he forgets. Once that’s done, he pours the curry into a bowl and puts it on the table in front of Sorey, taking the other seat at the table, across from him. “Working there isn’t doing a thing.”

“You’re working to change things from the inside. Just being in that position gives us an advantage if we need to do anything drastic,” Sorey says. “I know you haven’t forgotten that.”

“Perhaps, but there’s no way I can bring up the subject of human and seraphim coexisting without revealing myself as a traitor. You and I both know that working in the palace can either be a safety blanket or a death sentence.”

Sorey sighs, looking down at the untouched bowl of curry. They’ve had this argument plenty of times before, and Mikleo knows he’s tired of it. They both are. But it’s necessary, especially now.

“I vowed to protect you,” Sorey says. “If you travel with me, you’ll only be in danger. Even being here with me now is dangerous-”

“And you think I care about that?” Mikleo hears his words growing in volume. Still, he cannot stop the threads of anger lacing his words. “Did I not vow to protect you, too? The promise we made that night was not one-sided.”

“Even by letting me live here you’re protecting me,” Sorey says.

“It’s natural for you to stay here, though! I’m not able to do a damn thing, when I’m stuck in Pendrago and you’re travelling all over Rolance. You haven’t even been able to travel as far as you like because you don’t want to go too far away.” On the table, his hands clench into fists. “I didn’t come all this way just to be a liability for you.”

In the background, the kettle begins to whistle, its pitch sailing through the roof.

“You’re not a liability,” Sorey says. “I just want you to be safe-”

“And I’m saying I want the same thing for you!” He presses his fists onto the table, leaning over them as he stands. “But I can’t be sure of that when you’re halfway across the continent and I’m stuck here, unable to do a thing.”

Sorey’s face crumbles. He’s always disliked conflict, but this argument is one of the worst, despite its frequency. “I…”

“I’ve already lost everything,” Mikleo says, letting each word ring in the air. “My parents, my hometown, even years of my childhood. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I lost you, too.”

“It’s the same for me,” Sorey says, voice quiet and sad.

“Then let me come with you. That way we can both protect each other, just like we promised.” Mikleo sits back down, his anger fizzling out. “This dream is ours together, is it not?”

A moment passes before Sorey nods. “It is.”

Mikleo doesn’t reply, instead getting up from his seat. He removes the kettle from the heat, letting its whistle die down. The sound rings in their ears even after it has ended.

“Okay.”

He turns around. At the table, Sorey faces him, wearing a genuine smile.

“Wait, really?”

Of all the things they’re ever argued about, this has always been the subject Sorey is most stubborn about. For him to finally concede is more than surprising to Mikleo.

Sorey’s smile gains a hint of wryness, like he saw this outcome coming. “You think I didn’t notice the stuff on the living room table? I doubt there’s any persuading you not to come with me.”

“Oh.”

“Besides,” Sorey says, standing from his seat at the table. “I’m kind of glad you pushed the subject. Even though I want you to be safe, I want you with me more than that.”

“Sorey…”

Mikleo leans against the kitchen counter as Sorey moves over to him, a hand coming to rest on his waist. He leans their foreheads together, their noses pressing against each other.

“So, when are we doing it?”

He restrains the grin which wants to come to his lips in favour of pressing them against Sorey’s. Naturally he finds his hands around Sorey’s shoulders, pulling him even closer. Just as Sorey opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, however, he pulls back.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Mikleo breathes.

“I’m ready anytime.” Sorey leans forward again, trying to capture Mikleo’s lips once more.

“Then eat your curry first. You can help me dye my hair after that, then we can go.”

Sorey’s free hand curls through Mikleo’s brown locks, pulling him into a deeper kiss. When they part, Sorey’s breath isn’t at all laboured. “I’m kind of going to miss this colour, but you’re really going to suit white.”

“I won’t miss it,” says Mikleo, pressing a closing kiss onto Sorey’s lips. “My boss might, though. He’ll wonder what on earth happened to the brown-haired Mikleo who always obeyed his word.”

“I think he’ll be worrying about the state of his office first and foremost.” Sorey glances to the side where Mikleo can see the table of oddities, looming in the next room.

Smirking, Mikleo says, “It’s only paint. Not like it’ll last forever.”

“That’s a lot of paint, though. And rope.”

“How else are we going to get to the fourth floor of the palace?”

Sorey laughs and pulls away, finally sitting back down at the table to get his half-cold curry. Between mouthfuls he says, “So tonight’s the rebellion. What next?”

“What else? We travel the world in pursuit of our dream.” Mikleo sits down across from Sorey, this time feeling much lighter than before. “Though there is the question of where to start.”

“I have an idea,” Sorey says. “How would you feel about going back to our roots?”

“To Elysia?”

He doesn’t need to ask the question, of course. His roots are burned into his brain - almost literally. The fact that their gentle village came into contact with such a calamity is a difficult thing to forget. It’s been years since that time, though. Maybe they’ll even be able to find survivors.

(A wizened face smiles at him from his memory, and his heart aches. Hopefully he’ll have survived, if anyone.)

“How about it?”

Mikleo blinks out of his thoughts and smiles at Sorey.

“Sounds perfect.”

At last, everything is set.

Notes

#sormikweek2017 #sormik #tales of zestiria #toz #tales of zestiria fanfiction #yo i like this one!!#i came up with it p much on the spot one day but i really got invested in it #as you can maybe tell from the notes i guess #the title comes from 'white light'#y'know the amazing game op #except the english translation obvs

15 notes · View notes