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[freedom_is_grey]

Somewhere out back, at the far end of the training grounds, a storm is raging. Sometimes it's a blizzard. Other times it's a lightning storm. Sometimes it is even a storm of fire.

Someone, it seems, is practicing.

Liranan gleefully bounds through the mess, because Ysalwen's magic hasn't hurt him yet, and he trusts her to keep him that way.

For Ysalwen herself, of course, it's only good practice.

This sort of selective targeting is extremely effective on the battlefield.

(Liranan may also be keeping an eye out for passerby, so Ysalwen can be warned. With magic, it's better not to make mistakes.)

Comments

[says_the_booyah]

That, Cy thinks to himself as he looks at the storm on a bit of a walk, is weird weather.

What else is new?

[freedom_is_grey]

The storm continues unabated, at least until a large brown dog bounds in Cyborg's direction, circles back, and starts barking gleefully.

Then it stops.

Abruptly.

Silence falls.

[says_the_booyah]

"Whoa. Magic dog." Followed by...

"Er, hi, dog." Cy braces himself for both dog and anything that might follow.

[freedom_is_grey]

The dog re-approaches, trotting amiably at the side of a slim, white-haired woman in flowing blue and silver robes, with black tattoo over her right eye, and another -- triangular -- on her left cheek.

"Liranan saw someone approach, and I thought it better to stop working until I knew who it was. Hello."

[says_the_booyah]

"Hi. So the storm was you and not him." Good. "Magic dog" sounds like a bad idea. "I appreciate you turning it off. Wasn't ready for...rain?" A stray snowflake drifts by.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Liranan can do a lot of things, but magic is not one of them."

Liranan just pants happily, wagging is tail.

"No rain this time, just the -- more damaging secondary effects. And snow."

[says_the_booyah]

Cy sticks his hand out for the dog to sniff, but doesn't know how Lirinan will react to metal instead of flesh.

"So you're a weather wizard?" Not to be confused with the supervillain of the same name.

[hecu_marine]

Shephard was gonna go out and shoot today. Then he caught wind of the weird-ass storm in mid-change.

Well. Okay. Only so many folks can do that.

Back into the Bar, then, and out a little bit later with a package under his arm. Might be Ysalwen, sure, but shit, this is Milliways. Could be a completely different magic-slinger altogether, or some god or mutant or something. You never know.

[freedom_is_grey]

When he gets close enough he'll probably see Liranan loping through the flames. Then the lightning. Then back to flames again.

He barks gleefully when he catches scent of Shephard, circling to greet him before heading back to Ysalwen.

The storm dies. Instantly.

She'll make her way over to him in a moment or two, unless he reaches her first.

[hecu_marine]

Okay, he can deal with that. Shephard waves cheerfully to the dog and then jogs along once the skies are clear. "Hey there," he calls out. "Didn't mean to interrupt your practice session, but I thought I'd drop by'n say hi."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I should have been stopping soon, in any case. There's no sense using lyrium just for practice."

Unless you're practicing using lyrium, which -- no.

"How have you been, Adrian?"

[hecu_marine]

"Been all right," Shephard says. "Busy as shit back home, but I hired someone here to transcribe some of those notebooks we talked about. Reckoned you'd want a good clean piece of text, not my shitty-ass handwriting."

(Which, strictly speaking, is not true; his handwriting is pretty good, for print. He just wrote with a punishingly small hand at the time.)

"Got you some other readin' material from my world in the meantime, though," he adds, and holds out the package. "This here's the kind of shit they make the wannabe officers read at the military academies, or they used to, anyways. Reckoned you could use 'em even if they ain't an exact fit for your world."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I'll believe you about your shit handwriting, but honestly some of the tomes in the Tower were much older -- spidery faded writing is horrible."

She smiles, though, and reaches out to take the package.

"I'll be interested to read these books, certainly. Can we talk about them afterward, maybe? Or even during, if there are some concepts that don't translate well?"

It would be helpful, probably. And also it's just nice to have conversations about books sometimes. Practical conversations, too.

"Thank you."

[mogget_cat]

Something is approaching, padding along the pathways through the lingering snow. Though it may look like a white cat - well-camouflaged amid the snowdrifts, apart from its bright green eyes - it is not at all what its shape reflects, and its scent is not the scent of a true flesh-and-blood creature.

But still, true to form, it is curious about the displays of magic it had been able to see and feel from such a ways off. And so, it approaches. Discreetly, of course, but unafraid.

[freedom_is_grey]

If said cat gives off any feeling of magic -- or power -- at all, Ysalwen will detect it before too long.

However, Liranan is likely to get the scent first, which means he bounds over to put himself between Ysalwen and the not-cat, growling in warning but not threat.

That warning is why Ysalwen leaves the storm be as she turns, scanning over and past Liranan for whatever has made him watchful. There's no feel of darkspawn, so that's a relief.

But Milliways is strange, so --

"Hello? If the storm's a problem, I can stop it, if you like."

[mogget_cat]

The not'cat shows no fear of the dog, but diplomatically comes no further. Instead the white cat-shape settles, sitting with is tail wrapped loosely around its paws, and quietly eyes the canine.

"It is no problem," he replies, almost mildly, to Ysalwen's query. "I saw the storm's light from the roof of the bar and was merely curious as to its source." And its nature, and the nature of its source, and its power... and suchlike.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Well, right now that would be me. Not for very much longer, I don't think, however. There's no sense overdoing it while practicing."

Her mouth twists in a wry smile, but there's a guardedness to her eyes that doesn't fade.

She also keeps a good grip on her staff.

Run into one demon in the shape of a cat that's trying to possess a little girl -- a cat that talks, by the bye -- and you would probably be a bit leery of the next such a one to cross your path.

It's only sensible.

"Do you spend a lot of time on the roof? I've never been up there, but I assume the view must be good."

Liranan keeps up a low rumble, and remains in guard position. It's old habit, by now. (He remembers Honnleath, too.)

[mogget_cat]

The not'cat's green gaze, which had shifted to the mage beyond the canine, slides back to rest unblinkingly on the animal making the noise.

"I do not spend too much time up on the roof, but the view is agreeable, and one can watch the comings and goings of people on their own errands from up there. The sun warms the roof quite nicely, as well. And sometimes there are birds."

One mustn't be up there too often, or else the birds won't come back. Yum.

"That storm was decently-wrought, though you are correct in believing that keeping in practice does not mean exhausting oneself. If I may say, your magic feels... interesting."

[freedom_is_grey]

"The way you describe it does sound like a nice time."

Especially the birds. For a cat. Or something with the instincts of a cat. Either/or.

"I'm correct about a lot of things, but I'm glad to see you agree on at least this one."

Carefully, and still very guarded, Ysalwen allows the storm behind her to dissipate. Liranan doesn't relax, but he does stop growling.

For now.

"Can I ask what you mean by 'interesting'? And also what you mean by 'feeling' my magic -- is it just the ambient you're getting, or have you, as no one actually says and I can't figure out why -- gone looking?"

[mjolnir_retriever]

...Well.

That's noticeable.

And not just visually, though it's a good show. There aren't so many people manipulating the weather at Milliways that Thor would miss someone making that kind of controlled storm.

Accordingly, he tosses himself skywards to go say hi -- though he'll drop to earth outside the storm's edge, out of courtesy, and in similar courtesy he won't call his own storm around himself just yet.

[freedom_is_grey]

He'll be greeted by a fiercely barking dog, first off.

He was flying, and in Liranan's experience, generally only bad things fly.

Ysalwen must be warned.

Which is probably why the storm -- lightning and snow together, now, swirling heavy and fast and deadly -- remains in place, even as the white-haired caster turns to look in her dog's direction.

And Thor's.

"Well, that's certainly one way of approaching a spellcaster. Hello!"

She has her staff gripped firmly in her hand. Just in case.

"Liranan, hold."

[mjolnir_retriever]

Thor grins, without any fear of either the barking dog, the extremely localized lightning-and-snow, or the staff-wielding mage.

Thor's not much good at fear in general, but lightning in particular will only ever call to him, and be answered back.

"My apologies if I startled you. I meant to compliment you on this."

"Greetings," he adds gravely to Liranan. The dog may or may not understand that, but you never know, and in the meantime it's always polite to err on the side of courtesy.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Well, thank you for that, then."

She doesn't quite relax, but she does offer him a crooked smile.

Liranan, meanwhile, whines a little. The man said hello, but he was flying, and -- can he say hi back? Ysalwen, can he?

"You can say hello," Ysalwen reassures him, and he brightens, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he wags his tail in welcome.

Hi, flying person who smells like lightning. Hi!

"You're -- not a mage, are you? Only you -- there's nothing of the Fade around you, but it -- feels like a storm."

She frowns thoughtfully. Huh.

"Sorry. It's just interesting."

[mjolnir_retriever]

"No."

Thor answers this with grave amiability, and without the slightest indication that he's from somewhere where mages and magic are unheard of. Because he isn't!

"I am a warrior of Asgard. But you have keen senses, spellcaster. I have powers, and the storm is among them."

[freedom_is_grey]

"I'm Ysalwen. You can call me that, if you like. This is Liranan."

Liranan barks. Once. Hi!

"Is Asgard your country, or is it your -- if I call it an Order, will that make sense to you? And I should hope I have keen senses, otherwise I would have been killed a long time ago."