[There's a quiet dance to it; it's easy to hear how someone might slip and fall in it if they didn't know.
He meets the stare, though, brow lightly knitted and with eyes a little less focused than a stare back would be, since it's not the face but the why - unsettled. Yes. But... she's trying to settle it. She can tell. Or guess - other people can hear, too (people - like mages); knowing someone else has the key to the door can leave one unsettled but so long as they can't make anything move, good faith can hopefully keep it from sticking - just staying.
If it stays. They're still speaking - and that seems to have done even better. Good...!
He stands still when she steps closer. Lets his expression blank. Receptive.]
Confusing.
Confused?
[Thought out loud. Confused isn't necessarily the right word, but - not quite comfortable, curious. Unsettled. It all works. It doesn't work right, but nothing hurts, here, him or anyone else - not the way he's thinking.
His head tilts a little, eyes flick aside, idly "around", so it isn't insistent - same with the airy tone.]
Yes.
...Where I was before -- where I've been, until here -- magic didn't live with the mages; it - it lived with everything else that wasn't real until it was made so by a mind, made into matter by a mage. Memories, dreams, demons - [And peaking higher and sliding down into a hush, a conversational request to be told a secret.] - where does your magic come from, Hermione?
-- There is much magic here, but where I come from - magic lived with everything else that wasn't real until it was made by minds; it crossed across. There isn't a Fade here... [Lightly shakes his head, eyes open a tad wider.] ...no one misses it.
Even the mages.
[Which is good. Granted that mages don't miss anything if they become Tranquil, but they're still without. And without isn't what anything here with magic is.]
no subject
[There's a quiet dance to it; it's easy to hear how someone might slip and fall in it if they didn't know.
He meets the stare, though, brow lightly knitted and with eyes a little less focused than a stare back would be, since it's not the face but the why - unsettled. Yes. But... she's trying to settle it. She can tell. Or guess - other people can hear, too (people - like mages); knowing someone else has the key to the door can leave one unsettled but so long as they can't make anything move, good faith can hopefully keep it from sticking - just staying.
If it stays. They're still speaking - and that seems to have done even better. Good...!
He stands still when she steps closer. Lets his expression blank. Receptive.]
Confusing.
Confused?
[Thought out loud. Confused isn't necessarily the right word, but - not quite comfortable, curious. Unsettled. It all works. It doesn't work right, but nothing hurts, here, him or anyone else - not the way he's thinking.
His head tilts a little, eyes flick aside, idly "around", so it isn't insistent - same with the airy tone.]
Yes.
...Where I was before -- where I've been, until here -- magic didn't live with the mages; it - it lived with everything else that wasn't real until it was made so by a mind, made into matter by a mage. Memories, dreams, demons - [And peaking higher and sliding down into a hush, a conversational request to be told a secret.] - where does your magic come from, Hermione?
-- There is much magic here, but where I come from - magic lived with everything else that wasn't real until it was made by minds; it crossed across. There isn't a Fade here... [Lightly shakes his head, eyes open a tad wider.] ...no one misses it.
Even the mages.
[Which is good. Granted that mages don't miss anything if they become Tranquil, but they're still without. And without isn't what anything here with magic is.]