teleios | { open | event, and for the month! }

THE WEEK OF THE TRIFFIDS |

It's Jazz who notices that things aren't as they should be, a fact which he'd certainly try to parade around if he could speak. As it happens, he spots something amiss as Fortescue is on a morning walk into the city. Movement snakes at the corner of his green eyes, and he shifts on Fortescue's shoulders to watch it. She pays no mind, humming a bit of The Magic Flute; he watches birds in the same manner.

But she absolutely notices when a section of vine suddenly extends from a planter and wraps around her ankle, yanking her off of her feet. Jazz leaps to safety, snarling and hissing, keeping his distance as he was trained to do.

Fortescue, meanwhile, grits her teeth and taps into her pyromancy. Flames dance along her skin, avoiding her skin but not the vines that are trying to drag her bodily into the planter for... whatever the vines are attached to. She isn't too certain.

"Oh, just get off," she manages. The vines make a whining sound -- how on Earth or any other world do plants make sounds? -- and retreat, but not before a section of one burns off. Fortescue doesn't get up immediately, watching with narrowed eyes. "...just where did you..."

The thought is abandoned as two more sections of plant life suddenly lurch out, one around her right wrist and one around her other ankle. Fortescue's yanked a few more feet along before she huffs out an angry, "All right then," and ignites all of her body. This time, though it hurts the vines the same, the plant seems just as angry and sends out as many vines as she can burn. A deeper noise starts coming out of the planter, something bigger wriggling forward -- something which looks like a person-sized, yellow bulb.

THE THINGS FROM ANOTHER WORLD |

When she isn't being grabbed by enthusiastic greenery, and when other people aren't, Fortescue can be found in the library looking at cookbooks. She's curious about other things she could make which would be feasible for a beginning cook, and the library does have a good selection. Jazz lounges in the sun on the floor, often right in the way of other readers. Some of her experiments are done in the temple's kitchen as well as her own, and when they turn out well she sets them out in offering to those who still bunk down in the temple. She's experimenting with various pasta dishes, slowly amping up the difficulty.

She can also be found in the temple training rooms ever so often, dressed simply and taking out any excessive energy on a punching bag. Everything about her form and stance indicates a seasoned fighter. Jazz curls on the shoulders of a training dummy, and purrs smugly at anyone who approaches it and needs to use it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hm. So in that way, you could work magic all day, with it returning to you?"

That's an interesting idea. Magic that gradually comes back. Fortescue's never experienced that. She visibly grimaces as more weight settles against the door, and the wall groans, but things seem stable. For now.

"When my magic is gone, it's gone until I sleep. And if I overtax myself, I get the migraine of a century," she says, with a quiet laugh. The idea of magic belts and rings is also interesting. Most magic-infused clothing back home is just for show, and does something visually interesting. "...this plant really wanted to have a snack, didn't it."

"That's right. It would still get exhausting, having to move through the spells because they're more accurate if you move your staff a certain way, but it's doable. I used to fight my way through enemies for miles in the forest or underground, and I can tell you that my limbs were sore after that."

Neria doesn't envy Fortescue her troubles with overtaxing herself, or with using up all her magic. She glances at the door and nods.

"In the interest of preventing a migraine, why don't we see if we can sneak out the back and make for the Temple?"

"Mm," Fortescue agrees softly. Trying to get out of here seems like a good idea, now that the plant's rage -- was it rage? -- seems to have been sapped by their shelter. Slowly, the shadows begin to disperse from the door, back to where they came from. Fortescue sighs softly as the last of the shadows departs from her control, and the door groans again. But it holds.

She glances to the back door.

"If it spots us, somehow, I've got another trick up my sleeve." She smiles dryly as she begins to walk in that direction. "I'm Fortescue, by the way. And this is Jazz. Things were a bit too crazy to introduce ourselves before."

Jazz leaps up onto her shoulders, fur puffed up, green eyes wide. He's not much of a fan of overly animated plants, it seems.

"It's always good to have a backup plan," Neria says, moving along and giving the cat a once over.

"I'm Neria. And I hope your cat can't talk. I had a bad experience once with a cat who could talk."

"No, he's just a cat," she answers, smiling slightly at the idea of Jazz speaking. No doubt that would be a disaster. Of course, he's carrying more than a cat usually does. But he, himself, is simply well-trained.

Fortescue carefully glances from side to side as she opens the door to the outside, wanting to be certain that vines aren't waiting to try and ambush them. But it does seem to be clear.

"I've trained him quite a bit, that's all. What cat did you know that could talk?"

Neria keeps alert as they head outside, and the question has a frown coming to her lips.

"It wasn't really a cat. It was a desire demon who took the form of one to attach itself to a little girl. The demon tried to make a deal with me to allow it to stay in the real world, but I couldn't do that. You should never make deals with demons. So it possessed the girl, and I had to kill her in order to banish the demon back to the Fade." One of the times Neria's die hard practical nature had resulted in her being unable to save someone. Of course the child was doomed the moment she found the cat, but it's still a bitter reminder of the dangers of her world.

Fortescue frowns in sympathy. "That's unfortunate."

She knows that her world has an advantage over many worlds that have magic -- there are no demons. No malevolent entities of that kind, that she's aware of. There are the Guides, but the Guides are neutral. Even helpful, as it's Guides that bestow magic on elves and humans. They don't try to forge deals with mortals and they don't try to hurt them. There's only the exchange: some of your life force, which will regenerate, and in return, a life of guaranteed success.

Though what you'd be successful at, that's the unconscious gamble everyone takes. And then forgets. Guides are confusing things. They rarely stick around to fully explain themselves. Fortescue's guide, whom she'd named Phineas, is an exception. But he's not here in Teleios. It seems that this is a place the Guides can't get to.

"Jazz is no demon, unless you consider trying to steal food off of Teleios partygoers to be demonic," she jokes lightly, as they carefully move. "He also tries to do that whenever I visit the Temple kitchens..."

Jazz is a bottomless pit of a cat, for how sleek he's managed to stay. But he appears lofty and unconcerned on Fortescue's shoulder, as if he finds being a food thief to be a baseless accusation. Thanks to carrying her soul safely, he does understand more than the typical cat. But not too much more.

It's an old hurt from back during the Blight, when she and Alistair had enough on their plates without worrying about demons possessing children too. The worst part is, that wasn't the only child she had to kill due to demonic possession.

But she's turned over her choices in her head far too many times to sink down into it again now. She stays alert for vines, but still listens to Fortescue talk.

"Domesticated animals are always begging for something," she agrees. "I once had a war dog. And when he wanted belly rubs, you better have obliged or you were suddenly on the floor being licked half to death." Ah, mabari. The largest breed of dog and practically a comical sight to see beside a slight elf of only five feet.

"That must be a sight to see," she says, her face shifting into a slight grin as she looks around a corner. Clear. The Temple is only a few blocks away -- they can make it, she tells herself. The plant can be dealt with later, now that it's made a nest for itself.

"Mum didn't want us to have pets, and I've only had Jazz. So I've never had a dog. But they seem like nice animals to have around."

She does pay attention to the once had part of that sentence, and hopes she isn't traipsing into sensitive territory. But she's also rather distracted by their present course of action.

A few blocks is nothing. She's run for longer distances with more deadly things on her tail before. Just seeing the Temple releases some of tension she's carrying.

"They are. In my country, it's practically a crime to not love dogs. They're on our coat of arms and everything." She doesn't mind discussing dogs. She once had one because the dear passed away of old age. Much better than being struck down by darkspawn, bandits, or whatever else he and Neria had faced together.

{ open | event, and for the month! }

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