#togabcy

[ txt ] if i die for this it will be deserved

[ txt ] do not mourn me when i am gone

[ txt: octagon ] boy what in the sam hill are you talking about

Dropped!

HAVING HIS AFFINITY FOR THE WEAVE STIFLED IN SUCH A MANNER is disconcerting, to say the least. To possess all the knowledge of a spell, to have all the means to cast it, and then find it fizzling out on your fingertips... to say Gale is displeased would be quite the understatement.

It hasn't been entirely taken from him. That's some small comfort. Though Mage Hand is neither the flashiest nor the most utilitarian of his spells, he wouldn't dare to complain about having been afforded this; and he refuses to let himself grow rusty ( what a harrowing thought ). The weather today is mild, nice enough to sit outside while keeping the mind sharp - between his light reading, he sends the spell out to fetch a thing or two. A shiny rock from across the street. The book he'd tossed carefully a couple feet away. He'd figured out quickly that he could only manage a few casts per day, so he's careful not to waste it, giving it just one more go as it retrieves a flower from a nearby hedge.

"OCTAVIUS!" Jedediah's hand lashes out of seemingly nowhere, grabbing him by the elbow and yanking him into the little hole in the wall he's wedged himself into, nose to nose and beaming. There's a look in his eye, a certain set to his expression that plainly communicates a bad idea on the horizon - and, naturally, not a hint of care towards the unusual circumstances the city has found itself in. Jed feels just fine, so why worry? "Just the man I wanted to see."

Of course he is. Octavius goes along with all of his ideas with only mild complaining. One gloved palm smacks excitedly against the Roman's breastplate, the other digging into his shoulder with an iron grip. See his visions, boy.

There is apparently a new claimant to the piece of stiff fabric, who has climbed to the very top of the cap and was now using it as a lookout point across the park.

He's seen his share of extraterrestrial races before during his travels across the galaxies, but never one so...small, or dressed in such charmingly detailed attire.

Hesitant over how to greet him, Veoc settles for resting his palm against the brim of the hat and waving with two fingers to say hello.

"Excuse me."

"Are you looking for something?"

15 questions about mun’s taste in muses

Welcome to scenic Isola Radiale, Octavius!

You will be placed in HOUSE 117.

You will keep your plastic sword, however it will not turn into metal.

Enjoy your stay!