"Better than I expected it to be. Got to talk to my daughter. She was 15." He was a proud Papa, a terrified father, a man amazed that they did it. They got her to mostly grown, and she seemed to be.. pure. Unmarred by the ugliness he knew.
"She doesn't hate me." The lowest of bars, yes, but a fantastic start.
"Then yer doin' better than I e'er did." There's a sense that even though Sweeney has opened the door for the topic, he doesn't want to walk through it. His focus is on the literal door in front of them, instead.
"It dunn't gotta be anywhere special, 's long as we got some open space." So it's dealer's choice.
Raylan doubts that's true but he also knew better than to go directly at something of Red's. Always better to let the wound sit for a beat or two before asking questions about it.
"Mm, may've been." That was right. God, that fight seemed so long ago now. He leads them into the Enclosure and steps up to the console.
"Which means I should probably show you somethin' different."
'Different' in the shape of a desert valley, covered in scrub, oh so softly rolling openess and with a hundred mile 360 view, save the small wooden house and modest but decent sized porch and the snow capped mountains in the distance.
"You feel like a porch man, but I could be wrong."
"If you ever get a chance, it's somethin' I suggest. Doesn't solve any of the worlds problems but it's as good as a kitchen for a place to talk." He led them that way.
"And we can get anythin' you need to.. start, I suppose." He didn't know how this worked.
A dark thought passes across his face. Yes. He did want a porch. How many times had he seen it flicker in the Anywhere Else? Someone waiting on it for him to come home. For a bushel of kids to come tumbling off of it and into the grass. He'd dreamt of a kitchen too. It's why he asked Trixie to teach him to make pancakes. But it doesn't matter. It was stupid of him to even consider it. He'd tried to chisel it down, to keep his want so simple. Green, water, a tree.
Fucking dumb-ass.
Sweeney pulls himself back to the present.
"Nah, I got it." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a leather-bound journal, holding it up in quick presentation.
"There are a bunch variations, but I can show ya the tobacco one first, if ya want." He shrugs a shoulder; it's all pretty much the same to him at the moment.
He gestures towards the edge of the porch, suggesting they might sit on it, instead of going all the way up.
"The one I use ta grow plants in a hurry." Sweeney continues forward to find his own spot on the porch, where he pulls a pencil down from behind the ear that normally bears his cigarettes. He opens the journal, starting in the middle to find a blank page.
"Always use it fer tobacco, given the time an' space requirements it'd take otherwise."
He doesn't for everything; he finds joy in growing things.
Sweeney tugs the page free of the book, nodding at Raylan's question.
"Sigil. That's what Hunter teaches." Well, and. He corrects himself.
"I mean, it's his native magic." The line is drawn slowly enough for the marshal to follow; there's nothing overly complex about it. Just some circles and lines inside a larger ring. Very simple and geometric.
Reaching in his pocket, he produces a fist-sized cotton pouch. Sweeney loosens the drawstring and pulls out a sunflower seed, then ties it shut and sets it on the porch, along with his journal. Without further explanation, he holds the page up, turned to Raylan as if to say 'see?'. Then he stands and takes one step forward before turning and crouching. The paper is put on the ground between them.
He puts the seed in his mouth, just for a couple of seconds before he removes it and places it in the center of the design. While that step isn't technically necessary, he finds it makes it work better for him, to have that connection.
His eyes close and he takes a slow, deep breath. Focus etches in his brow, and he holds his hands like he's warming them at a fire. After a long moment, the paper starts to disintegrate, flaking off into sparkling light. When it's gone, the seed rests on the dirt. Then it cracks. Then a green stalk starts to unfurl. It's not instant or flashy, but it is making good time in its progress.
Only then does he open his eyes and look up to Raylan.
He watches attentively, nodding faintly to show he was following along and once Sweeney sets it all down, Raylan silently leans forward like he would pick up something more nuanced. The paper lights and his expression doesn't change until the seed cracks, dark eyes widening as life sprung up out of nowhere.
"I think I'd like to know how you did that. Is it the lines? Intent? A combination of both?"
His questions were going to be long and exhaustive, he was sure, but he was also sure that if he echoed Red's movements, he would not get the same result.
"Uses ambient magic, so we don't gotta provide it ourselves." Because they're in the same boat as far as that particular accessibility. He comes back to the porch and sits on the edge, picking up the journal and pencil as the flower continues to grow.
"There's only four base glyphs." Sweeney finds a fresh page and pulls it, then draws each in turn, small enough to fit on the page together. He labels each beneath with beautiful penmanship.
"Light, ice, plant, fire." When he's done, he offers the paper to Raylan. "From there, ya can combine them ta do other things. But I pretty much just use this one." He points to the plant one, obviously.
Raylan's attention was kept on the sunflower that was still growing, leaves popping up out of seemingly nowhere despite being preceded by the nubs that produced them. It was fascinating. He looks up at the tear of paper and to take it as it's handed over, eyes scanning over each.
"Feels like it should be more complicated than that." Like maybe he was misunderstanding something. Olenor had given him a good sense of what 'Focus your intent' meant and that alone wasn't exactly the easiest but Raylan felt he had surly shortcutted that.
"I get for plant you need a plant - does that mean for the rest, I need light, fire and an ice cube or-"
He shakes his head and shrugs the idea off with his shoulder, seeking to clarify.
"Ya don't actually need the seed. Or anythin' else, really." Sweeney presses his lips, then parts them with his tongue. "Ya can make the glyph with anythin'. Draw it in the dirt or the like." Which leaves him having to confess the reason for his personal method.
"I just use seeds 'cause I don't trust my mind ta make shit up from nothin'." He's quick to correct himself. "I mean--I don't trust my mind ta make the right thing. Or...well, I don't know what it'd come up with." Given my madness.
"Fer the best that I use as few movin' parts as possible."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"It's complicated."
Sweeney's got the inkling that Raylan knows enough to understand, if not the full picture beyond it. He wets his lip.
"You?"
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"She doesn't hate me." The lowest of bars, yes, but a fantastic start.
no subject
"It dunn't gotta be anywhere special, 's long as we got some open space." So it's dealer's choice.
no subject
"I show you the Kentucky field I use yet?"
no subject
no subject
"Which means I should probably show you somethin' different."
'Different' in the shape of a desert valley, covered in scrub, oh so softly rolling openess and with a hundred mile 360 view, save the small wooden house and modest but decent sized porch and the snow capped mountains in the distance.
"You feel like a porch man, but I could be wrong."
no subject
"Spent a lotta time on them, but ne'er had one'a my own." He can't help but think of Essie and her apples, if only for a moment.
no subject
"And we can get anythin' you need to.. start, I suppose." He didn't know how this worked.
no subject
Fucking dumb-ass.
Sweeney pulls himself back to the present.
"Nah, I got it." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a leather-bound journal, holding it up in quick presentation.
"There are a bunch variations, but I can show ya the tobacco one first, if ya want." He shrugs a shoulder; it's all pretty much the same to him at the moment.
"It's the one I do most often."
no subject
"It's more about what you wanna show me, Red. You're the one leadin' this. What's 'the tobacco one'?"
He was attentive and genuinely curious, filled with Olenor's lexicon and unsure if it translated over to what Red was talking about.
no subject
"The one I use ta grow plants in a hurry." Sweeney continues forward to find his own spot on the porch, where he pulls a pencil down from behind the ear that normally bears his cigarettes. He opens the journal, starting in the middle to find a blank page.
"Always use it fer tobacco, given the time an' space requirements it'd take otherwise."
He doesn't for everything; he finds joy in growing things.
no subject
"Is-- is it a.. sigil? Or a spell or- what would you call it?"
no subject
"Sigil. That's what Hunter teaches." Well, and. He corrects himself.
"I mean, it's his native magic." The line is drawn slowly enough for the marshal to follow; there's nothing overly complex about it. Just some circles and lines inside a larger ring. Very simple and geometric.
Reaching in his pocket, he produces a fist-sized cotton pouch. Sweeney loosens the drawstring and pulls out a sunflower seed, then ties it shut and sets it on the porch, along with his journal. Without further explanation, he holds the page up, turned to Raylan as if to say 'see?'. Then he stands and takes one step forward before turning and crouching. The paper is put on the ground between them.
He puts the seed in his mouth, just for a couple of seconds before he removes it and places it in the center of the design. While that step isn't technically necessary, he finds it makes it work better for him, to have that connection.
His eyes close and he takes a slow, deep breath. Focus etches in his brow, and he holds his hands like he's warming them at a fire. After a long moment, the paper starts to disintegrate, flaking off into sparkling light. When it's gone, the seed rests on the dirt. Then it cracks. Then a green stalk starts to unfurl. It's not instant or flashy, but it is making good time in its progress.
Only then does he open his eyes and look up to Raylan.
"So. Whad'ya think?"
no subject
"I think I'd like to know how you did that. Is it the lines? Intent? A combination of both?"
His questions were going to be long and exhaustive, he was sure, but he was also sure that if he echoed Red's movements, he would not get the same result.
no subject
"Uses ambient magic, so we don't gotta provide it ourselves." Because they're in the same boat as far as that particular accessibility. He comes back to the porch and sits on the edge, picking up the journal and pencil as the flower continues to grow.
"There's only four base glyphs." Sweeney finds a fresh page and pulls it, then draws each in turn, small enough to fit on the page together. He labels each beneath with beautiful penmanship.
"Light, ice, plant, fire." When he's done, he offers the paper to Raylan. "From there, ya can combine them ta do other things. But I pretty much just use this one." He points to the plant one, obviously.
"The rest is focusin' yer intent."
no subject
"Feels like it should be more complicated than that." Like maybe he was misunderstanding something. Olenor had given him a good sense of what 'Focus your intent' meant and that alone wasn't exactly the easiest but Raylan felt he had surly shortcutted that.
"I get for plant you need a plant - does that mean for the rest, I need light, fire and an ice cube or-"
no subject
"Ya don't actually need the seed. Or anythin' else, really." Sweeney presses his lips, then parts them with his tongue. "Ya can make the glyph with anythin'. Draw it in the dirt or the like." Which leaves him having to confess the reason for his personal method.
"I just use seeds 'cause I don't trust my mind ta make shit up from nothin'." He's quick to correct himself. "I mean--I don't trust my mind ta make the right thing. Or...well, I don't know what it'd come up with." Given my madness.
"Fer the best that I use as few movin' parts as possible."