[Rosinante is entirely impressed, amazed at what the other Rosinante has been able to accomplish. He knows that if he was the one in charge of gathering food, they'd both still be hungry. Such an amazing trait to have!
He needs to avoid using magic, and if he was in a healthier state of mind he'd insist on just going out and pawning his things already. And he's in a rougher state still after the injury. But all he ends up doing is nodding, and working to gather up a few things to actually keep the fire going once it's been made. Magic fire is easy enough to achieve, easier for a mage in good health, but without food nothing thrives, even fire itself.
He manages to come across the supplies needed pretty quickly, adding paper from his notepad to help it along, and he pulls the magic up once more. This time, focusing it differently. Fire's unique chaos is a harder thing for him to focus on, think Rosinante, think. Think of warmth and good, gentle crackling and winter days tempered by the coziness of a fireplace.
Nothing.
So when that isn't enough to feel it out and shape it, he thinks of pain and burning and blistering loss, of the scent of charred flesh and the way a burning building sounds as it falls. And that causes the end of his magic to trail off into flames, settling neatly onto the mound he's made for it.]
no subject
He needs to avoid using magic, and if he was in a healthier state of mind he'd insist on just going out and pawning his things already. And he's in a rougher state still after the injury. But all he ends up doing is nodding, and working to gather up a few things to actually keep the fire going once it's been made. Magic fire is easy enough to achieve, easier for a mage in good health, but without food nothing thrives, even fire itself.
He manages to come across the supplies needed pretty quickly, adding paper from his notepad to help it along, and he pulls the magic up once more. This time, focusing it differently. Fire's unique chaos is a harder thing for him to focus on, think Rosinante, think. Think of warmth and good, gentle crackling and winter days tempered by the coziness of a fireplace.
Nothing.
So when that isn't enough to feel it out and shape it, he thinks of pain and burning and blistering loss, of the scent of charred flesh and the way a burning building sounds as it falls. And that causes the end of his magic to trail off into flames, settling neatly onto the mound he's made for it.]