Magpie's Laugh ♧

And with that, she simply shoved open the kitchen doors and grabbed the attention of the one of the chefs in charge.

“Professor Farina! What a surprise! Is there anything we can help you for?”

“Right, about that…”, she began, tugging at her earlobe awkwardly. “I’ve got this…uh…” How to describe Denning exactly. She kinda got his situation but them being a sorta soul-eating zombie still kinda freaked her out. She was just putting that aside for the time being. “A ‘friend’. He’s sorta unique. And it’s not really their fault. He was just never taught how to speak properly…I guess.” That was her best guess as to how he ended up this way, she assumes. Even pronoun'ing them was turning out to be a little tricky. “So, he’s gonna be a little strange. Don’t mind them too much. Is that alright?”, she decided to finish. A series of awkward nods soon filled the faces of the kitchen staff. Fair enough. That was probably how she’d react to something like this happening, anyway.

Only she doesn’t, her voice cutting back through the otherwise murmuring soundscape. Denning steps into the kitchen with purpose, one-two-three-four, stops, looks about and finds that they are being watched.

Hm. though unused to scrutiny from more than one, they are not bothered. They are here for a purpose. Pointing at a cupboard they know to hold miscellaneous ready-to eat supplies, they announce: “Cracker.”

Silence sets into the kitchen for a moment, all the cooks staring at the morph, occasionally glancing at Farina.

And especially not all the way to the kitchens asking after crackers. "Um...", she began awkwardly, scratching lightly at the back of her head. "Better bring him a tin full. He's got a, um, limited vocabulary?" Well, she'd already explained his situation beforehand so hardly worth repeating.

The cooks stared at one another before one of them shrugged, dug into the cabinets and produced a small tin of biscuits that they then passed over towards Denning.

Farina shot a glance over in Denning's direction as the gift was offered. Do they even know what to do with it? Do Morphs even eat? Come to think of it, she's never actually been sure about that. They're more like these zombie things, right? Do they even need to eat?

And although they were shoo'd out with some haste, he can't say he wasn't grateful for that too. 

“ I don't know what I would have done if he were dead... ”  Pelleas grimaces to even think about it.   “ I'm just glad the nurses said his injuries weren't too serious. I know my magic can, um... be less than forgiving... ”

To grow strong carried with it the consequence of needing to be in control of said power. That was the mantra with dark magic always. In heart and mind. Restraint was always the first thing that a shaman needed to be able to commit themselves to.

Something he lacked at times— the very reason he had signed up for this seminar. Even if he had failed where it counted, he supposes he could take the man's fortunate state to prove that he had held back in some manner.

And for today, that was enough.

“ Ahhhh, I don't know if I really want to face him again after all this, although I know I should... ”  He sighs, rubbing his own temple.  “ But drinks... perhaps I should. That sounds nice. ”

Did he need them? Did he deserve them? He's not certain, but he doesn't want to let them go to waste if they really did set them out for those who bow out early. And if Farina was going through the effort to offer her company...

He thinks he'd like that. Just a little longer of someone who didn't hold anything against him before he'd have to trudge his way back to the dormitories.

"Yeah, you probably should but first, chill. It'd do no one much good if ya end up fumbling your way through the apology." Well, that was her stated goal behind taking Pelleas out for drinks. The guy still seemed a bit uptight. Stammering his way through an apology probably wouldn't be the best way in handling things. Well, that and she had some time to kill before she went back to 'hunting' students.

"Don't worry. They'll call you when he wakes up." Or Gregory could come looking for Pelleas himself. Whichever happened first. They'll decide on Pelleas' punishment then, if any. To be honest, she suspects he's been 'punishing' himself more than enough for an accident like this.

Smiling a little too sentimentally, she kept the carrots coming to the pegasus in front of her.

And that included biting the neck that fed them, apparently. Well, it wasn't like she was hurt or anything. Just..uh, sore at worst? Farina paused for a moment to twist her shoulder a little and try to shrug off the soreness around her neck. No harm done. She'd been used to dealing with worse from Murphy, anyway.

But, if she'd seemed a bit slower in passing along the vegetables to the pegasus, well, she can't really call herself that magnanimous, can she. "Something more exciting?", she mumbled for a moment, processing her older sister's question. To be honest, a good part of why she'd even come so far in taking this job was the promise of safety - in getting away from the more exciting parts of her career path. There was a potential end goal in merc'ing she was smelling in her not-so-distant future and she didn't like it one bit. Even a world of money did no one any good if you're too dead to enjoy it, after all. "Well, there's the big school-wide thingies that happens around here every so often. You'd hear about 'em soon enough.", Farina shrugged, passing along a cabbage leaf to the pegasus as slowly as possible. That ought to be exciting enough, she'd figured.

What was bothering her more was the other half of her big sister's question. 'You can tell me anything, you know.' Funny, that. "I can say the same right back. You've always been terrible at letting things go, sis."

...

"All I'm say professor is, like, why would they sell it for that cheap? It doesn't make any sense." Nasir pinches the bridge of his nose tightly. Who had - or rather, hadn't - taught these children basic economic policy?

"That's it. I'm changing my lesson plan for the day," He stands with a slam of his hand upon the desk in front of him, "Since you all don't seem to have any understanding of the market and how it works, I will take it upon myself to at the very least educate you a little. Please, do get comfortable, we are clearly going to be here for a while."

However, instead of what he was planning on speaking, she'd heard whispers from the students about vulneraries costing 10 times their usual price and pretending it's normal. She placed her head in her hands just as the blue-haired lecturer started to change his lesson plans. Not that she could really blame him. Naivete on that level was no different than idiocy.

She slammed her hands on the balcony railings just as the lecturer finished his introduction. "Hear, hear!", she shouted, directed a glare at the curious students turning back around to look at her. "Listen to you lot! I know what you're like! 'Mummy and Daddy are paying for my bills so I don't need to pay a thing.'", she mocked with a false falsetto. "Well, guess what? Your money doesn't grow on trees. And here you lot are talking about how normal it is to fall for the simplest of scams! I'm embarrassed just listening to you lot."

a collection of words to describe the strangeness of being human, continued.

✦ aesthosis: the state of feeling trapped inside your own subjective tastes—not knowing why you find certain things beautiful or ugly, only that you do.

✦ anoscetia: the anxiety of not knowing “the real you”.

✦ chrysalism: the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

✦ elsewise: to be struck by the poignant strangeness of other people’s homes, which smell and feel different from your own.

✦ exulansis: the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it, which allows it to drift away from the rest of your story until it feels out of place.

✦ fata organa: a flash of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, as if you could see backstage through a gap in the curtains.

✦ flichtish: to be nervously aware how much of your self-image is based on untested assumptions about yourself.

✦ funkenzwangsvorstellung: the primal trance of watching a campfire in the dark.

✦ ghough: a state of panic that everything good will be taken from you too early, which makes you want to swallow the world before it ends up swallowing you.

✦ hiddled: feeling the loneliness of having to keep a secret to yourself.

✦ jouska: a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

✦ koinophobia: the fear that you’ve lived an ordinary life.

✦ loss of backing: an abrupt collapse of trust in yourself, which makes it that much harder to guarantee that your word is worth anything, even to yourself.

✦ mahpiohanzia: the frustration of being unable to fly.

✦ malotype: a certain person who embodies all the things you like the least about yourself, which leaves you feeling repulsed and fascinated in equal measure.

✦ maru mori: the heartbreaking simplicity of ordinary things.

✦ midding: the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it, feeling blissfully invisible yet still fully included.

✦ nementia: the post-distraction effort to recall the reason you‘re feeling particularly anxious or angry or excited, trying to retrace your sequence of thoughts like a kid gathering the string of a downed kite.

✦ occhiolism: the awareness of how fundamentally limited your senses are.

✦ ochisia: the fear that the role you once occupied in someone’s life could be refilled without a second thought.

✦ onism: the awareness of how little of the world you’ll experience.

✦ querinous: the longing for a sense of certainty in a relationship.

✦ rückkehrunruhe: the feeling of returning from an immersive trip only to notice it fading rapidly from your awareness, as if your brain had automatically assumed it was all just a dream.

✦ sayfish: a sincere emotion that seems to wither into mush as soon as you try to put it into words.

✦ solysium: the unhinged delirium of being alone for an extended period of time.

✦ tarrion: an odd interval of blankness felt after something big happens to you but before you feel the resulting emotional reaction.

✦ the kick drop: the moment you wake up from an immersive dream and have to abruptly recalibrate to the real world—unquitting your job, falling right back out of love, reburying your lost loved ones.

✦ the standard blues: the dispiriting awareness that the twists and turns of your life feel new and profound but are not unique, which makes even your toughest challenges feel harmless and predictable, just another remake of the same old story.

✦ the wends: the frustration that you’re not enjoying an experience as much as you should.

✦ vaucasy: the fear that you’re little more than a product of your circumstances.

✦ vicarous: being curious to know what someone else would do if they were in your shoes, eager to watch another actor put their own spin on the character that is You.

✦ watashiato: curiosity about the impact you’ve had on the lives of the people you know, wondering which of your harmless actions or long-forgotten words might have altered the plot of their stories in ways you’ll never get to see.

✦ wellium: an excuse you come up with to rationalize a disappointing outcome.

✦ wildred: feeling the haunting solitude of extremely remote places, which makes you feel like you’ve just intruded on a conversation that had nothing to do with you.

The words were an arrow directly to her chest — she stilled where she was, forcing herself not to stare at Farina in the wide-eyed shock and appreciation that she felt trying to shift her face. Farina... missed her? Of course she did, part of her mind chided, surprised at her foolishness. She’s your little sister. Why wouldn’t she miss you?

But the larger part of her — the part that had just lost the White Wings — the part that had virtually run away to another land — the part that had dubbed her a failure, unfit to command her own people—...

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She glanced over at Farina, and found her sister smirking, talking about lance prices in some faux-dramatic way. Fiora pushed the emotion almost overwhelming her down to smile along with her.

(If her eyes were a little sad, a little emotional — well, when weren’t they?)

“Sure it is,” she agreed, passive — if this was what impassioned her sister, then by all means, let it impassion her, too. “I’m glad I came, then, if you need my help unraveling an entire conspiracy.” She smiled, serene and willing, and a touch too feeling. “I missed you, too.”

There was no way she could leave again, she decided.

Fiora was agreeing a little too readily. No 'You're overthinking things, Farina'? No 'I'm sure those merchants had their own reasons, Farina'? Farina raised a concerned eyebrow and slowly turned around to face Fiora in the eyes, a confused expression on her face. Was it just her imagination or was her big sis looking a bit sadder than usual? Then again, Fi had always looked kinda sad. Especially around that trip to the Dread Isle.

Don't tell her that her grumblings were real? That her big sister had had another tragedy happen. That's just...the worst, ain't it? First, that debt (which was still her fault, by the way), then whatever happened around Valor and now probably whatever this was. Did some jerk jinx Fi when she wasn't looking? Whoever that was, that had sounded like a prime target for some quick lancing.

Well, she knows better than to ask, anyway. No need to open up wounds unnecessarily. For now, she'll just take the 'I missed you too' as it was intended. No need for her own issues to drive a wedge. Not right now. Not after so long apart.

“ ...It's my fault. ”

But he doesn't. He instantly worries he might regret it, but in that moment, even after he considers the potential risk and reward, he still chooses to be honest.

In a moment of 'coulds', he wonders if he 'should' have.

But regardless, he's already begun, and he can't take that back.  “ Taking part in the seminar, I... had lost control of myself. I saw the instructor — Gregory — come towards me and I knocked him out with my own magic. I shouldn't have, I know. ”

That's where he puts his 'should' instead. He glances over to Farina, guilt writ across his features as he realizes how much more of a strain carrying her fellow instructor must have been on her if that's the way she's acting after reaching the tent.

He turns his attention back to the nurses.

“ You don't need to take care of me. I'll take myself out of the seminar altogether. Or if you're worried about me, you can keep me in custody of sorts; I'll understand. But I don't intend to cause anyone further harm, instructors or otherwise. I promise. ”

At which point he bows.

"Yeah, it's, like, uh, whatchamacallit, shit happens.", Farina muttered from where she was sitting sprawled on the ground, casually ignoring the nurses' glares at in her direction. "You head out there, swingin' sticks around. You gonna need ta expect someone to start swingin' back." There was a brief pause and a odd wiggle of her lips as though she'd just thought of something unimaginably funny. "It'll be down to Greg and what he thinks. Well, uhhh, when he wakes up, anyway."

Almost as though he'd picked exactly that right moment to wake, Gregory let out a low groan on the bed and shifted slightly in the bed, promptly another round of readings from the nurses nearby. Farina paused for a moment to stare in Gregory's direction before realizing he wasn't quite waking up yet and sighed. "Well, I guess that's a good sign. At least, he ain't dead."

That seemed the final straw for another of the nurses nearby, who promptly huffed out a "Right. The first thing the patient needs here is rest. We appreciate the promptness in bringing him here but this is hardly the place for conversation. Out!" There was a particularly pointed poke at Farina with her boot, who seemed to have gotten the point and stood up quickly.

The terror of a foul enemy's return is being covered by said enemy's insistence on continuing to be an annoyance. Citrinne nearly considers taking her beach gear and slipping out from where she entered. To just leave; have her own fun away from this unnecessary stress.

Though a second thought stops herself before acting on avid impulses. If she was to leave now, she'd be no better than Griss in refusing to help the mess he caused. Exiting the crisis now would also only make her look worse in her teammate's eyes.

With new resolve (partially from spite), the noble sets aside the rest of her luggage and finally turns back to the hazard zone meant to be their new room. Citrinne starts with the mattress that's placed off-frame. It proves to be fairly heavy, but after a few pushes the bed looks almost usable.

"We can only salvage what we have. If everyone, or rather," Citrinne sneaks a look back at Caspar, a small grin beginning to peek from her face, "everyone who cares about where they rest does their part, then the coming days' sleep may still be saved."

It's a cheap shot. But damn, does it feel good.

Citrinne lets her hands rest as she addresses the blue lady, the neutral party in the room. "The quicker we deal with this, the quicker we get to have fun. A fair deal?"

Jumping onto the now mostly-appeared-fixed mattress, she bounced on it happily for a few moments and then grinned at her roommates. "Well, what kinda fun are we plannin', anyway?"

She's still got her suspicions on this place but why not take advantage of it while it's there?

The punishment for that arbitrary rule was to last the rest of the gauntlet, then, but Ares still showed no hesitation as he took his place on the final section.

Between the narrow pole that was barely big enough for one of his boots let alone both, and the speed of that sweeping pole against his fettered legs, to say he was at a severe disadvantage here would be an understatement.

1d20 -> 11; Hit! -4HP

The first revolution was gentle all things considered, and it still sent him flailing.

1d20 -> 11; Hit! -4HP Reroll proc: 2; Failure!

The moment it began its second, the speed only quickened, and the opening for reaction only narrowed. Meanwhile he had still been fighting against his weights when it swept him again.

At this rate, he knew there was no more room for finding his footing, even as the pole beneath him was rattling from his struggle.

At this rate, he had no other options but to outlast them both to stay in this race! But...

At this rate...

1d20 -> 10; Hit! -4HP OUT!

He was already back in the water, floating up to the surface on his back while his expression just kept sinking.

And just as soon as the blonde got knocked back into the water was it her turn around the pole. It spun once....

1d20 -> 1; Miss!

Which she'd quickly jumped over like it was easy. Then came the next spin.

1d20 -> 6; Hit! -4HP

THWACK! Okay, that stung but she could handle it.

1d20 -> 19; Crit! -8HP OUT!