{ open | event, and for the month! }

[blackmagus]

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.

Comments

[spellpower]

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.

[blackmagus]

"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.

[spellpower]

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.