healing in the stars

Factions of Skyrim: College of Winterhold

skyrim | MAGIC

Skyrim Atmospheres

    “Don’t apologize,” she said. Sybille was a strange girl - she didn’t say it in the way most people would. There wasn’t the same sheepish tonality to her voice that implied she would have done the same. Instead, it was short and almost sharp. A command, almost, but a friendly one, if that were a thing. “Thank you.”

     She thought on what he’d said for a moment as he brought the fruit down. Sybille accepted some with a nod and began munching on the food. Meanwhile, her mind pondered the perplexities of Healing Hands. Vesper was right, of course. It was the opposite of a destruction spell with the same.. intention. Get one spell from your hand to the target; but rather than hurt the target, you must heal the target. Perhaps if she did as he recommended and thought small, then large, it would help. She had a tendency to jump headfirst into things she wasn’t ready for.

     The mage chewed and swallowed some fruit, gulped, and said something wholly unexpected: “Why is Mysticism banned in the College?”

The question caught Vesper off guard. He scrunched his brows, resting his hands on the counter top in front of him with a look of thoughtfulness. It was not an easy subject to breach. There were recorded members of the College who had been banned for such things, even for showing the mildest of interest. Vesper wanted to settle the interest before it became dangerous, as he knew it could.

“It’s...rather complicated.” He began, eyeing her carefully. “I do not know how far you knowledge on the matter goes, but essentially it’s forbidden due to the manipulation of magic itself. In the right hands, it could be useful. It’s fascinating, even, but also potentially dangerous.”

Images flashed in his mind back to a few former colleagues pouring over scrolls, eyes bloodshot and muttering nonsense. It was difficult to watch even as another student. 

     “I forgot,” she admitted as she stood. Sybille was poorly skilled at self-care. Thankfully enough, the College’s kitchen was almost always open - whether or not the cooks were in. Considering the unholy hour, they were likely asleep.

     Sybille gathered her things and put them in her sack. The poor thing was unkempt and in poor shape. She desperately needed another, but Saturnalia had yet to come. Perhaps someone kind would give her another then. “I’ve been trying to learn Healing Hands all day,” she continued. There was a hint of frustration in her voice, “but I can’t seem to get it right.”

     The girl could certainly perform the basic self-healing spells, but particularly the ones performed on others were her weak points. It was an ironic twist, given her inability to take care of herself. 

     As they made their way out of the arcaneum and down to the kitchens, she asked: “Do you have any…. advice?”

“Best to remedy that, then.” He grinned. “There were some leftover pastries from supper. Perhaps there are some leftovers.”

The chill of the College’s thick stone walls crept through his robes as he stood and tugged his outermost garment tighter around him. Not that he was unused to the briskness of mountain terrain, growing up in the craggy range of Wrothgar, but the winter season was nearly upon them. Even he was not immune. 

“Oh?” Vesper listened intently as they descended the stairs. There was an eagerness to him when it came to being able to share what he knew. Magic without the knowledge to manipulate and control it wasn’t terribly useful after all. Thinking back, there were always spells that stumped him, no matter their simplicity or complexity. He thought on her question for a moment.

“Channeling magic from one person to the other can be difficult. Think of it like this: in Destruction, you’re focused on a target, but more in forming a specific kind of magical element to oppress it with. With this it’s...vastly different, opposite even, but with a similar concept.”

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    “I’m here on a scholarship,” she said. Since Vesper had informed her of his reasons for choosing Winterhold, she felt it appropriate. “I do whatever the College needs me to, and I can study restoration.” It was the only way her family had been able to afford schooling. Otherwise, she would have grown up with out-of-control magic. Ignorance was not well suited to the arcane. For some people, especially mages like Sybille, unchecked magic could prove detrimental. Children who grew up with inherent magical abilities and no training were dangerous, at times.

    Sybille glanced at the tome she had been reading. A few moments passed as she tried to think of something else to say, but she wasn’t terribly skilled at communication. At last, (after what seemed like ages) she looked back at Vesper and asked, “Are you hungry?”

    The mage was, of course. She often forgot to eat during the day, then caught up at night before bed. Her genes were what kept her so plump. By no means was the woman overweight, but she was certainly soft - pear-shaped, and not as hardened as many of Skyrim’s citizens. She was her home: warm, soft, and scented like roses and tea.

“Ah, you’re the one on the scholarship, then? I heard the professors mentioning it a few months ago.” He mused, “They do not offer it terribly frequently, but it’s well worth it if you’re as interested in the arcane as you seem.”

The interest in restoration made pride swell within him. Not many came for restoration, either. It was often encouraged as a side school, or something to know the very basics of. Colette loved reminding him and many others of its validity, something he needed no convincing of. It was why he came. Though through it he did come to understand the importance of other sections. Alteration in particular felt necessary.

It was wise of her to accept it, he thought. If not for her own safety, for the opportunity it brought for more to understand the practical and non-practical uses of magic. If the residents of Winterhold itself did not express strongly enough of their disapproval, the rest of Skyrim might.