(no subject)

[fluffiest_archadian]

[OOM: "Blessings of the Great Father descend, and guide these bodies' return to the earth. Great Father guide these spirits' return to the Mother of All. There they shall find peace. Faram."]

The appearance of Milliways after several weeks of it being absent is good. Milliways means time and space to train, which is what Sherral is doing now. His arm's out of the sling, having been put instead into a bracer of moderately thick, stiff fabric, from his shoulder to the back of his hand.

There's a space out back that he's claimed as his own, finding a good spot to stand in while he takes deep breaths, slowly drawing in and then pushing out whatever Mist he can find. There's a crackle of lightning around him, a flicker as it shapes itself into several rather crude floating swords, before Sherral directs them to destroy a straw and wood target he's set up nearby.

It's successful, but only just. The swords don't so much stab or slash as they do careen wildly onto a single point as if someone lobbed them at it with great force. Two swing off path, with one scorching a section of grass that quickly grows back, while the other spins off into the air, circles about aimlessly, and then vanishes.

It's his third attempt of the night, and once it's done, Sherral takes a moment to make an annoyed sound and grab a bottle of water, chugging it down.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

As he did the last time Sherral practiced a Quickening, Autor floats down on his carpet and hops off, wide-eyed. He sniffles a little, though he's not trembling near as much or even that flushed anymore.

"Ooh. Are you working on more Quickenings, Sherral?" the boy asks nasally.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Aye. Not with much success."

He pauses, squinting at Autor a little. "... Are you quite well?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor leans on his carpet, and shakes his head minutely. "I've got the flu. The one that changes people's personalities. I'm probably not contagious--I'm nearly over it--but stay away in any case. I'd hate to get you sick."

Then he lights up. "The Quickening is still neat, though! What made you think of so many swords--or did it just manifest that way?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"There's a flu that changes people's personalities?" Sherral asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Did yours change much?"

He gives a slightly sour glance over towards the target. "I like swords," he says after a moment. Then: "And if I can move them independently of each other, then it's as good a way to harry and confuse Audyne as any."

[herr_bookman]

"It's an annual Milliways weird," Autor says, shaking his head. He's relieved that he's not dizzy anymore. "My personality didn't change at all, as far as I know, but people go around thinking that they're someone else. Rae thinks she's Edith Greensly, a con artist, for example."

Autor adjusts his glasses and eyes the target. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but moving them independently of each other would take a great deal of concentration?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Has she managed to con anyone yet?" Sherral asks curiously.

He lifts a shoulder, nodding briefly. "Aye, most certainly. But it'd be worth it."

[herr_bookman]

"I have no idea," Autor says, blinking. Then he breaks into a grin. "That would be hilarious. They'll all remember what happened when the flu clears up, so I'm sure she'd return whatever it was she conned out of them when she becomes her self again. Hopefully that'll be in about a week or so."

He tilts his head at the target again, sniffling. "It takes up all of your magic, right? All of your Mist?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

He nods. "I have ethers, though - usually, at least - so I can replenish it."

[herr_bookman]

Autor nods, sobering up a bit. "So you're still going after Audyne? Hmm. When does the cast come off?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"A week or so from now," Sherral says. "It's - uncomfortable, but preferable to the sling. I can at least move my arm some."

[herr_bookman]

"Ah, well! There you go," Autor says, nodding. He sneezes into his handkerchief, and then gestures to the cast. "The... glitteriness of it is, er, impressive."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"It's magicite," Sherral says. "It's truly amazing how much Archadian technology glows, glitters or sparkles."

[herr_bookman]

"That's magicite?" Autor asks, peering closely at the ostentatious fabric. "Is it packed with curative magics? That's amazing."

[runningred]

Jay comes out of the bar and is looking for a spot for a quiet smoke when he finds Sherral. "Looks impressive!"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I'd say it looks clumsy and crude," Sherral replies without turning, furrowing his brow.

[runningred]

"How long have you been at it?" Jay asks, ignoring Sherral's self criticism.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Tonight? That was my third attempt. The entire process started just after I left the infirmary."

[runningred]

"Take a break then." He gestures Sherral to come over andjoin him outside the ring of grass. "You need a break."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I'm not tired," Sherral protests, but he joins Jay anyway.

[runningred]

Jay smiles tired and reaches for Sherral, looking worn thin himself. "I feel like it's been months since I've seen you." Giving Millitime, it well might have been. "How's your arm healing?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Ah, well. I'm out of that accursed sling now, at any rate," Sherral says, curling an arm over Jay's shoulders loosely. "You look exhausted."

[runningred]

Jay wraps his arms around Sherral's waist and leans into him, glad just to see him. "Too many night shifts lately." He moves his hand down the the glittering cast. "How's it healing?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"I wasn't aware you ever had day shifts," Sherral says. "It's - healing about as quickly as can be expected. Which isn't as quickly as I would like, but I'm glad of being able to move it somewhat."

[runningred]

"I don't generally but I'm helping a friend track a drug ring who are selling something dangerous through the night club scene. I've spent far too many nights staking out crap bars, listening to god awful music and getting hit in by under age kids with fake IDs. Makes me feel so fucking old." He grumbles, eyes half closed.

He runs a gentle hand down Sherral's arm to touch the edge of the cast. "No point telling you to look after yourself, is there?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"This is why I became a soldier and not tavern security," Sherral chuckles. "Far less awful music."

He gives Jay a gentle smile, nudging him. "Aye, no point in it at all. I have duties to attend to, after all."