Felix Caelus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
conjuredskies) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixwordstories2013-10-31 12:21 pm
conjuredskies) wrote in sixwordstories2013-10-31 12:21 pm
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No idea where that came from.
Is he referring to the damn Conestoga that nearly ran her down just now, or this entire - movie set? Renaissance festival? Because Sunshine has no idea where any of those things came from, either. New Arcadia doesn't have a Renfest, and movie sets are usually a bit harder to just... stumble into. If that's even how she got here.
Hey, maybe he's referring to her. Sunshine makes a face, patting her pocket to make sure her jackknife only felt like it was burning a hole into her leg a few moments ago (it hasn't gone through the pocket, though it probably left a mark). The thin scar around her neck where her necklace used to be - or still is, technically - is looking a bit more raw than usual, but when she touches it with her fingertips, she feels a faint hum of response. It sounds, she thinks, just a bit disgruntled. Like, don't look at me; I'm not responsible for this. That's fair. Despite the proliferation of dirt, this is definitely not Con's 'earth-place.'
All present and accounted for, she turns her attention to Mr. Tall, Dark & Amused At Her Expense. "Care to point me back to reality?"
Hey, maybe he's referring to her. Sunshine makes a face, patting her pocket to make sure her jackknife only felt like it was burning a hole into her leg a few moments ago (it hasn't gone through the pocket, though it probably left a mark). The thin scar around her neck where her necklace used to be - or still is, technically - is looking a bit more raw than usual, but when she touches it with her fingertips, she feels a faint hum of response. It sounds, she thinks, just a bit disgruntled. Like, don't look at me; I'm not responsible for this. That's fair. Despite the proliferation of dirt, this is definitely not Con's 'earth-place.'
All present and accounted for, she turns her attention to Mr. Tall, Dark & Amused At Her Expense. "Care to point me back to reality?"
Sorry it took me a while to get back, you caught me AFK!
conjuredskies
2013-11-10 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"Reality?" Felix doesn't stop looking amused, but the question seems to puzzle him. Unfamiliar bursts of conjuration magic can herald just about anything - often nasty, usually chaotic. One young woman who seems confused about her whereabouts? That's unusual.
He looks around, just in case there's something with more spikes waiting to pounce. But no. Just one disappearing wagon and behind them, the rest of the village market bustling away. Including a passing guard who seems singularly unimpressed by whatever magic is going on over there. All Felix can do is shrug at her.
"Depends what you mean by 'reality'." And then a thought occurs, as he takes in her clothes - they're rather odd compared with his blue shirt and breeches, or even the mix of tunics, furs, dresses and steel around them. He lowers his voice for a minute. "You're not... dreamstriding, if that's what you mean. You're standing on good old solid Nirn."
He looks around, just in case there's something with more spikes waiting to pounce. But no. Just one disappearing wagon and behind them, the rest of the village market bustling away. Including a passing guard who seems singularly unimpressed by whatever magic is going on over there. All Felix can do is shrug at her.
"Depends what you mean by 'reality'." And then a thought occurs, as he takes in her clothes - they're rather odd compared with his blue shirt and breeches, or even the mix of tunics, furs, dresses and steel around them. He lowers his voice for a minute. "You're not... dreamstriding, if that's what you mean. You're standing on good old solid Nirn."
No problem! Kinda voice-testing, so my replies might be slow in coming, too. ;)
rae_of_sun
2013-11-10 06:01 pm (UTC)(link)
'Rather odd,' indeed. It probably doesn't help that Sunshine tends to favor bright colors. If she was thinking about her clothes, she'd clock the fact that she looks like a parrot among sparrows, here. As it is, she has more pressing concerns, like, 'what the carthaginian hell is Nirn supposed to be?'
Well, it sounds like she can cross off 'weird dream' off the list, which is a shame. It would have made for a good third guess, right after Renfest or film set. She frowns, still running her fingertips along her necklace scar. Whatever threw her wards into a snit might have been bad enough for her necklace to decide an evacuation was in order. Maybe. She didn't think any given ward could be that, uh... enterprising... but what she doesn't know about wards could fill libraries.
Plus, the necklace didn't really sound like it knew what was going on. And even if it did, why take her here?
Okay. She's still gonna go ahead and go with film set or Renfest, and assume this guy is just... really method. Annoying, yes, but it's an annoyance she can handle. "Look, either I didn't pay admission or I'm about to ruin a shot. So just point me to the exit and I'll be on my way."
Well, it sounds like she can cross off 'weird dream' off the list, which is a shame. It would have made for a good third guess, right after Renfest or film set. She frowns, still running her fingertips along her necklace scar. Whatever threw her wards into a snit might have been bad enough for her necklace to decide an evacuation was in order. Maybe. She didn't think any given ward could be that, uh... enterprising... but what she doesn't know about wards could fill libraries.
Plus, the necklace didn't really sound like it knew what was going on. And even if it did, why take her here?
Okay. She's still gonna go ahead and go with film set or Renfest, and assume this guy is just... really method. Annoying, yes, but it's an annoyance she can handle. "Look, either I didn't pay admission or I'm about to ruin a shot. So just point me to the exit and I'll be on my way."
"Exit to where?" Felix has begun to suspect he's as lost as she is. Unless she means the road out of town, but he doesn't really want her to run off yet. He shakes his head. He doesn't mind obscure and archaic (or void-spawned) messages, but he still can't get a handle on what she's trying to say.
He falls back on common sense. Wherever she just materialised from, whatever dialect she's using, it sounds an awful lot like 'I don't think I'm supposed to be here and I'd like to leave'. (Although he can't see why she's in such a hurry. The local Nords aren't that bad.)
"Look, perhaps it would help if you told me how you got here," he says with a shake of his head, adopting his Reasonable Imperial voice. Calm, friendly, courteous-but-assured. "I don't believe I've seen magic quite like that before."
He falls back on common sense. Wherever she just materialised from, whatever dialect she's using, it sounds an awful lot like 'I don't think I'm supposed to be here and I'd like to leave'. (Although he can't see why she's in such a hurry. The local Nords aren't that bad.)
"Look, perhaps it would help if you told me how you got here," he says with a shake of his head, adopting his Reasonable Imperial voice. Calm, friendly, courteous-but-assured. "I don't believe I've seen magic quite like that before."
"Civilization?" she suggests, eyebrows raised. Some New Arcadia city council members might snootily imply that Old Town doesn't count, but a) Old Town isn't half so grotty as it used to be, and b) even the still-grotty areas of Old Town are a few steps up from her current surroundings in terms of general amenities.
Her eyes narrow a little at the new tone the guy takes with her. It reminds her of the good old boy routine that Mel uses to steer some of the less charming ravers out of the coffeehouse. And she likes that routine, not least of all because it works so well. Being on the receiving end of it is a bit less enjoyable, though; that makes her the less charming raver. Confused, yes. Lost, yes. But she's not crazy, as evidenced by the fact that she hasn't flown into a homicidal rampage.
"That makes two of us," she says dryly. She might know more than most about unconventional travel methods, but this wasn't like anything she's done before. "I wasn't trying to go anywhere, but..." but evidently, she has, as she demonstrates with a vague gesture toward the city. "I take it this isn't New Arcadia."
Her eyes narrow a little at the new tone the guy takes with her. It reminds her of the good old boy routine that Mel uses to steer some of the less charming ravers out of the coffeehouse. And she likes that routine, not least of all because it works so well. Being on the receiving end of it is a bit less enjoyable, though; that makes her the less charming raver. Confused, yes. Lost, yes. But she's not crazy, as evidenced by the fact that she hasn't flown into a homicidal rampage.
"That makes two of us," she says dryly. She might know more than most about unconventional travel methods, but this wasn't like anything she's done before. "I wasn't trying to go anywhere, but..." but evidently, she has, as she demonstrates with a vague gesture toward the city. "I take it this isn't New Arcadia."
He can't help but laugh at her suggestion. They are quite a way from any towns worth talking about, even by provincial standards. "Careful the locals don't hear that kind of talk."
It seems like they might be making progress, though - if only on identifying what the mystery is and not actually solving it. He shakes his head, curiosity sparking once more.
"You're in Rorikstead, in the province of Skyrim. 'New Arcadia' sounds more like somewhere in Cyrodiil, though I can't say I'm familiar with it..." He raises his eyebrows, implying the query. He thought he knew most of the settlements in his home province - it's not as hard as it was before the Great War, after all.
It seems like they might be making progress, though - if only on identifying what the mystery is and not actually solving it. He shakes his head, curiosity sparking once more.
"You're in Rorikstead, in the province of Skyrim. 'New Arcadia' sounds more like somewhere in Cyrodiil, though I can't say I'm familiar with it..." He raises his eyebrows, implying the query. He thought he knew most of the settlements in his home province - it's not as hard as it was before the Great War, after all.
Her own brows furrow as he rattles off a few names she doesn't even begin to recognize. She's not exactly a geography whiz, but one side effect of the Voodoo Wars is that there aren't as many places worth knowing about anymore. Entire regions have been effectively wiped off the map; maybe they're still there, and maybe they're not so thoroughly toxic that the wilderness won't take them back, but they're not fit for human habitation and they probably never will be. Point is, if someone starts listing reference points, they usually don't have to go too far before hitting a place everyone's heard of.
New Arcadia is usually one of those places, which makes his lack of familiarity with it all the more off-putting. Her city might not be all that huge when all is said and done, but it looms pretty large on the post-Wars map, what with it being mostly still there (and its residents mostly still sane). Whenever a major publication does one of those Top Ten Least Worst Places To Eke Out A Living, New Arcadia is in the top eight. How has he not heard of it?
Well, wait. He did say 'province,' didn't he? Gods and frigging angels, did she somehow make it all the way up to Canada? Shiva wept.
"New Arcadia is in the midwest U.S.," Sunshine says. She could be obnoxious and add 'North America' or something, but they're both speaking English, here.
New Arcadia is usually one of those places, which makes his lack of familiarity with it all the more off-putting. Her city might not be all that huge when all is said and done, but it looms pretty large on the post-Wars map, what with it being mostly still there (and its residents mostly still sane). Whenever a major publication does one of those Top Ten Least Worst Places To Eke Out A Living, New Arcadia is in the top eight. How has he not heard of it?
Well, wait. He did say 'province,' didn't he? Gods and frigging angels, did she somehow make it all the way up to Canada? Shiva wept.
"New Arcadia is in the midwest U.S.," Sunshine says. She could be obnoxious and add 'North America' or something, but they're both speaking English, here.
Whereas Felix would say they're both speaking some variant of Cyrodilic, so it might be a question of perspective. Unfortunately for her, his expression isn't getting any clearer.
"And where is that in relation to the rest of Tamriel?" He's working off the mirror assumption of hers: they basically understand each other, and it's more reasonable to assume a shorter teleport than one from- who knows, Yokuda or somewhere. From what he knows, teleportation spells have a fair bit in common with conjuration magic, so that kind of explains what he sensed. It still felt very odd compared to the teleportation points he's seen back home...
"And where is that in relation to the rest of Tamriel?" He's working off the mirror assumption of hers: they basically understand each other, and it's more reasonable to assume a shorter teleport than one from- who knows, Yokuda or somewhere. From what he knows, teleportation spells have a fair bit in common with conjuration magic, so that kind of explains what he sensed. It still felt very odd compared to the teleportation points he's seen back home...
"Where's Tamriel?" she fires back. Hey, if the United States isn't ringing any bells for this guy, she's willing to be less shy in admitting her own ignorance. "Is it in Canada?" Because if so, she's going to have a hell of a trek back home. (And if not... no, she's not going to think about what follows 'if not.') It might actually be easier to try and get to Con's earth place, though it'd be pretty damn embarrassing to show up, unannounced and uninvited and in need of a chaperone for the rest of the trip home. He'd probably laugh at her, and vampire laughs are terrifying.
"All right, hold on just a moment..." There's only one way to settle this. He slings the pack off his back and gets out the oilskin bag currently housing his maps. He's getting a nagging suspicion about what's going on - an exciting sort of suspicion, though the woman from nowhere probably wouldn't appreciate that.
He rifles through the folded parchments within, draws out one of the least-damaged to open up and show her. His maps of Skyrim and Cyrodiil may be battered and stained, but this one is nearly new. He doesn't often need to worry about the entirety of the continent.
"So, we're about here," he says, pointing to the left of Whiterun, above the inked-in mountains. "Is there anything on here you recognise?"
He rifles through the folded parchments within, draws out one of the least-damaged to open up and show her. His maps of Skyrim and Cyrodiil may be battered and stained, but this one is nearly new. He doesn't often need to worry about the entirety of the continent.
"So, we're about here," he says, pointing to the left of Whiterun, above the inked-in mountains. "Is there anything on here you recognise?"
Sunshine isn't sure if she should be annoyed or grudgingly impressed by his various satchels and parchments. He's really gone all out, hasn't he? She cranes her neck a little to see if he has a combox or some other glaringly modern bit of technology tucked away in there, but she doesn't see much - and nothing modern - before he's unrolling one of the aforementioned parchments.
Her first thought upon seeing it is, bullshit, but she still leans in, giving it a closer examination than it deserves. It doesn't look like anything she's seen before, but she's willing to buy that there might be some weird little island somewhere that matches the map. Once she spots the mountains, though, and gets a better sense of the supposed scale of the thing, her bullshit klaxons start sounding once again. She doesn't have to be a five-time geography bee champion to know there is no continent shaped like that on Earth, and the chances of her not recognizing a single city name on any given continent is nil. What in the hell is he playing at?
"If this is some kind of candid camera thing," she warns, lifting her eyes to glare at him, "I'm not signing any release forms."
Her first thought upon seeing it is, bullshit, but she still leans in, giving it a closer examination than it deserves. It doesn't look like anything she's seen before, but she's willing to buy that there might be some weird little island somewhere that matches the map. Once she spots the mountains, though, and gets a better sense of the supposed scale of the thing, her bullshit klaxons start sounding once again. She doesn't have to be a five-time geography bee champion to know there is no continent shaped like that on Earth, and the chances of her not recognizing a single city name on any given continent is nil. What in the hell is he playing at?
"If this is some kind of candid camera thing," she warns, lifting her eyes to glare at him, "I'm not signing any release forms."
There isn't much to see, since he's travelling light in the market. Just a few small bottles, some well-wrapped Eidar cheese, and a couple of books he's still hoping to trade in. Not the easiest sell in such a small place, but turning weight into coin is always worth a shot.
And there she goes again with the sentences he doesn't quite understand. It bothers him a bit this time, because if nothing else he likes to know what warnings mean. Besides, he's perfectly capable of reading her frustration, and that's definitely not the reaction he's hoping for. "Is that a 'no'? Because I'm wondering about that teleport..."
And there she goes again with the sentences he doesn't quite understand. It bothers him a bit this time, because if nothing else he likes to know what warnings mean. Besides, he's perfectly capable of reading her frustration, and that's definitely not the reaction he's hoping for. "Is that a 'no'? Because I'm wondering about that teleport..."
She opens her mouth to snap that of course it's a 'no,' but then shuts it, peering closely at him. The shadows on his face have a bright silver edge to them that isn't very much like Mel's red edge, but it's more like Mel's shadows than anyone else's she seen. It makes them harder to read than a run-of-the-mill human's, or even those of the partbloods she knows. Harder, but not impossible... and his shadows suggest that he's not lying to her. If there's some kind of enormous joke happening, here - and she's still not willing to rule that out, if only because the alternative is so carthaginian awful - he's not in on it.
"That's a no," she confirms, still frustrated, but at least not directing it at him. "I may have gone farther than, um, normal." 'Normal' pretty much just being to Con's place and back, which might actually be a fair distance (she's never really been able to peg where it is in terms of normal, human geography), but at least it's familiar. And the whole point of having this necklace is that it keeps her from going astray (and from losing her clothes, so maybe she should thank it for at least performing half its duties, except she isn't in a very Thank You mood right now).
"That's a no," she confirms, still frustrated, but at least not directing it at him. "I may have gone farther than, um, normal." 'Normal' pretty much just being to Con's place and back, which might actually be a fair distance (she's never really been able to peg where it is in terms of normal, human geography), but at least it's familiar. And the whole point of having this necklace is that it keeps her from going astray (and from losing her clothes, so maybe she should thank it for at least performing half its duties, except she isn't in a very Thank You mood right now).
Felix relaxes a little, now that she doesn't seem angry at him. The teleport mightn't be her doing, but she still has the feel of a mage to him, and who knows what kind of power she's brought with her from the land of the far-off Midwest?
"Very far," he agrees, which isn't reassuring, but might be slightly better than voicing his whole suspicion. Besides, he'd rather not get too excited until he's sure. He pauses, and extends a hand. "Look, my primary school is Conjuration. If you don't mind a prod, I can try to trace the spell that brought you here. Maybe we can get a better idea of what's going on."
He doesn't know enough about teleportation to work out exactly where she came from, but the remains of the rift might give him some idea of distance, and the spell strength, and a better taste of the power that created it. If there's a daedra involved, he'll be able to tell. Shunting mortals around planes without invitation smells like a game to him, and it would take one of the Princes to interfere with the mortal realm that directly. (Or one of the gods. He'd rather not worry about that.)
"Very far," he agrees, which isn't reassuring, but might be slightly better than voicing his whole suspicion. Besides, he'd rather not get too excited until he's sure. He pauses, and extends a hand. "Look, my primary school is Conjuration. If you don't mind a prod, I can try to trace the spell that brought you here. Maybe we can get a better idea of what's going on."
He doesn't know enough about teleportation to work out exactly where she came from, but the remains of the rift might give him some idea of distance, and the spell strength, and a better taste of the power that created it. If there's a daedra involved, he'll be able to tell. Shunting mortals around planes without invitation smells like a game to him, and it would take one of the Princes to interfere with the mortal realm that directly. (Or one of the gods. He'd rather not worry about that.)
Conjuration, huh? That's a step up from transmutation in the 'impressive' category, if not the 'useful' one. What's this guy's name? There aren't that many magic-handling families out there - at least, not many that could produce someone with a primary school in conjuration (as opposed to 'remedial charm-twisting' or 'cutting a ward that almost works'). Maybe she'd actually recognize it, and it would sure be nice to recognize something.
Of course, even if he's not from one of the big families, any idiot with a drop of magic-handling blood in their system can tap into sympathetic magic. Which makes his offer, unsettling as it might be, one of the least baffling things she's been confronted with since she got here. She only eyes his hand for a moment before reaching for it with a little sigh. "Yeah, knock yourself out." Remembering the exploding combox incident, she pauses for a moment before touching him and adds, "Not literally."
Of course, even if he's not from one of the big families, any idiot with a drop of magic-handling blood in their system can tap into sympathetic magic. Which makes his offer, unsettling as it might be, one of the least baffling things she's been confronted with since she got here. She only eyes his hand for a moment before reaching for it with a little sigh. "Yeah, knock yourself out." Remembering the exploding combox incident, she pauses for a moment before touching him and adds, "Not literally."
At least she's obviously used to magic. The situation's confusing enough without having someone who'd side-eye him for being a conjurer (or just a sneaky mage: Nords have issues sometimes).
"I'd rather not." He gives a momentary grin that disappears as he takes her hand and focuses. Tuning in to the magic around her isn't hard. Her own power does feel strange, as if it's strongly aligned in some direction he doesn't recognise. He gives it a light nudge out of curiosity, but he's looking for something more familiar: the echoes of rifting space and binding, warping energy - and perhaps the alien touch of a power from outside this realm.
Which, frankly, there is in spades. Because although she doesn't ring as discordant as a daedra, there's still something distinctly misplaced about the woman herself. And the more he probes the remains of the teleport, the more it sinks in what kind of power must have gone into it. His frown of concentration just gets deeper. "Uh..."
"I'd rather not." He gives a momentary grin that disappears as he takes her hand and focuses. Tuning in to the magic around her isn't hard. Her own power does feel strange, as if it's strongly aligned in some direction he doesn't recognise. He gives it a light nudge out of curiosity, but he's looking for something more familiar: the echoes of rifting space and binding, warping energy - and perhaps the alien touch of a power from outside this realm.
Which, frankly, there is in spades. Because although she doesn't ring as discordant as a daedra, there's still something distinctly misplaced about the woman herself. And the more he probes the remains of the teleport, the more it sinks in what kind of power must have gone into it. His frown of concentration just gets deeper. "Uh..."
She's not as used to it as he might think - the last few months have been a hell of a crash course - but it's true that magic-handling is hardly a foreign concept. It's just something she spent a good fifteen years pretending she couldn't do, until it suddenly became pretty kali vital that she dredge up that part of her heritage.
And then she tries to go back to just baking with maybe a little bit of necessary magic-handling on the side, and this happens. Go figure.
And, okay, wow, this is weird. Given that she's only used sympathetic magic on inanimate objects, she's never really had cause to consider what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of it. Maybe she should have. That curious little prod of his is like a sudden breeze rippling through the leaves of her tree (the sound it makes is not very much like the typical yesssssss, more just a wordless whisper of acknowledgement), and she remembers the snap of a twig, swiveling her ears toward the sound, ready to spring away on four slim legs so superior to her two galumphing human ones...
Yeeeeek. Get it together, Sunshine. She makes a conscious effort to pull herself back into the present, and finds that she's squeezing what's-his-face's hand a bit harder than necessary. Whoops. She loosens her grip, then manages a rather strained, "Well?"
And then she tries to go back to just baking with maybe a little bit of necessary magic-handling on the side, and this happens. Go figure.
And, okay, wow, this is weird. Given that she's only used sympathetic magic on inanimate objects, she's never really had cause to consider what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of it. Maybe she should have. That curious little prod of his is like a sudden breeze rippling through the leaves of her tree (the sound it makes is not very much like the typical yesssssss, more just a wordless whisper of acknowledgement), and she remembers the snap of a twig, swiveling her ears toward the sound, ready to spring away on four slim legs so superior to her two galumphing human ones...
Yeeeeek. Get it together, Sunshine. She makes a conscious effort to pull herself back into the present, and finds that she's squeezing what's-his-face's hand a bit harder than necessary. Whoops. She loosens her grip, then manages a rather strained, "Well?"
Felix stays locked in concentration for a minute, oblivious to the outside world. There is something there, the echo of an otherworldly hand guiding the spell, an adamantine intent piercing the barrier between planes. That can't have been easy: the cleanness and the lack of obvious fallout speaks to the power of the being behind it. And that narrows the field of candidates right down. It's Daedric, for sure, but not one he recognises right off the mark. Nothing like Clavicus Vile's carelessness, Azura's subtlety or Vaermina's creeping horror. Instead there's ferocity of a kind he hasn't seen before, pure and white-hot, like a cleansing flame.
He holds the sensation in his mind as he lets go, only vaguely aware of his hand transmitting an 'ow' back to the brain. Come on, come on: it's too obvious for Mephala, too harmless for Dagon; it sure as the Void isn't Sanguine's doing...
"Ah..." She's probably not going to like this. "Just - you said you weren't trying to teleport when you got here, right? And, uh- you are mortal, aren't you? Human?"
He holds the sensation in his mind as he lets go, only vaguely aware of his hand transmitting an 'ow' back to the brain. Come on, come on: it's too obvious for Mephala, too harmless for Dagon; it sure as the Void isn't Sanguine's doing...
"Ah..." She's probably not going to like this. "Just - you said you weren't trying to teleport when you got here, right? And, uh- you are mortal, aren't you? Human?"
Sunshine takes her hand back, feeling just a tiny bit disgruntled. Why is it that whenever she's in some potentially dire predicament, the guy (or vampire) who might have an answer for her indulges in brobdignagian pauses? It adds a nice layer of frustration to her own total ignorance regarding how she got here. Crossing her living room without so much as a scented candle burning really should not lead to any surprise trips through nowheresville to - to wherever she's supposed to be right now. Tamriel, was it? Not Canada, apparently.
"Definitely not," she confirms, because she's certain of that much. She narrows her eyes a little at his second question. There are plenty of options besides one-hundred-percent human, but unless someone is manifesting demon or peri traits in a pretty unmistakeable way, you don't ask. More to the point: unless someone is manifesting demon or peri traits in a pretty unmistakeable way, you don't know. There are people in New Arcadia who had no idea there was any demon blood in their family until they spontaneously grew horns at age thirty-five, so it's hard to say anything with absolute certainty.
Which really is a damn shame. Magic-handling genes and demon-cross genes tend not to play nicely with one another, and not knowing for sure that there's no demon blood on her mother's side of the family is a bit, uh... troubling. To put it mildly.
"Yeah," she guesses anyway, because she was going to turn out to be one of the criminally insane bad magic crosses, all that business with Bo would have probably set her off. "Why?" Because that's the other thing - demon or peri blood might cause you to grow wings or sew a seam that never unravels, but it tends not to take you on lengthy jaunts through space apropos of nothing.
"Definitely not," she confirms, because she's certain of that much. She narrows her eyes a little at his second question. There are plenty of options besides one-hundred-percent human, but unless someone is manifesting demon or peri traits in a pretty unmistakeable way, you don't ask. More to the point: unless someone is manifesting demon or peri traits in a pretty unmistakeable way, you don't know. There are people in New Arcadia who had no idea there was any demon blood in their family until they spontaneously grew horns at age thirty-five, so it's hard to say anything with absolute certainty.
Which really is a damn shame. Magic-handling genes and demon-cross genes tend not to play nicely with one another, and not knowing for sure that there's no demon blood on her mother's side of the family is a bit, uh... troubling. To put it mildly.
"Yeah," she guesses anyway, because she was going to turn out to be one of the criminally insane bad magic crosses, all that business with Bo would have probably set her off. "Why?" Because that's the other thing - demon or peri blood might cause you to grow wings or sew a seam that never unravels, but it tends not to take you on lengthy jaunts through space apropos of nothing.
Admittedly it's not a harmless question here either, but there's no ill-intent behind it. To be sure, ordinary mortals are the preferred sort of visitor, but mortal certainly doesn't equate to human on Nirn. Nor is the reaction to non-mortals wholly negative, depending on company and the specific type of immortal. Consequently Felix doesn't look so much relieved as he looks like he's struggling to get his head around what that answer means.
"Because I, uh, don't think that was a teleport. Not technically. It looks more like a kind of summoning to me. You came through a portal to Oblivion, which means you came from outside the mortal realm, but... from somewhere else with mortals."
And he finds that hard to swallow, but he's still sorting this through. "It feels like a Daedra brought you here. A very powerful Daedra. I don't know if that counts as good news or bad."
"Because I, uh, don't think that was a teleport. Not technically. It looks more like a kind of summoning to me. You came through a portal to Oblivion, which means you came from outside the mortal realm, but... from somewhere else with mortals."
And he finds that hard to swallow, but he's still sorting this through. "It feels like a Daedra brought you here. A very powerful Daedra. I don't know if that counts as good news or bad."
"Summoned?" she repeats, eyebrows raised. She is definitely not liking the sound of that. As far as she knows, the only person who could summon her is Con (and it only occurred to him to do it the one time he did because of her vague psychic badgering). There's no way this was his doing; if it was, she would have landed where she was meant to and not here.
'Here' being... what, another universe? Okay, there's nowheresville, but there's no actual evidence out there to support the idea that there are other realms that are, well... habitable. People-friendly. Not toxic kali nightmare-scapes.
Okay, first things first. "What's a Daedra?" She's more than passing familiar with most things Other-related, so it's not every day (or any day, anymore) that she comes up on something she's never heard of before. (Well, why shouldn't a mystery continent full of mystery cities also be full of mysterious Others? What an educational day she's having.)
'Here' being... what, another universe? Okay, there's nowheresville, but there's no actual evidence out there to support the idea that there are other realms that are, well... habitable. People-friendly. Not toxic kali nightmare-scapes.
Okay, first things first. "What's a Daedra?" She's more than passing familiar with most things Other-related, so it's not every day (or any day, anymore) that she comes up on something she's never heard of before. (Well, why shouldn't a mystery continent full of mystery cities also be full of mysterious Others? What an educational day she's having.)
Felix glances around, just to make sure nobody's close enough to overhear and get nervous. He beckons her to follow and leads them a little further aside, to the edge of the low stone houses around the main street. He still explains as he goes - he just keeps his voice down.
"Daedra are... you know, immortal spirits who dwell on the Oblivion planes. The Capricious Powers. Some people worship them as gods, though they're a bit different to the Divines. They're the beings most of us conjurers summon?" And yes, those are more alternate names than a definition. He's still half hoping that she's just been brought in from some distant part of Nirn where the Daedra go by other names. Although he can't say why they wouldn't have just used ordinary teleportation then: with that kind of power behind the spell, surely that would have worked as well.
He stops and rolls up his map, trying to think how best to word the explanation. "The most powerful Daedra are the princes, or lords, or however you want to call them. Each of them governs over a sphere, like madness, or darkness, or destruction or so on. It's kind of hard for me to read which one this could be."
"Daedra are... you know, immortal spirits who dwell on the Oblivion planes. The Capricious Powers. Some people worship them as gods, though they're a bit different to the Divines. They're the beings most of us conjurers summon?" And yes, those are more alternate names than a definition. He's still half hoping that she's just been brought in from some distant part of Nirn where the Daedra go by other names. Although he can't say why they wouldn't have just used ordinary teleportation then: with that kind of power behind the spell, surely that would have worked as well.
He stops and rolls up his map, trying to think how best to word the explanation. "The most powerful Daedra are the princes, or lords, or however you want to call them. Each of them governs over a sphere, like madness, or darkness, or destruction or so on. It's kind of hard for me to read which one this could be."
What, no concern for Sunshine's nervousness? The closest thing her universe has to 'immortal spirits' - ones that actually interfere with the lives of your average human - are vampires, which lean way more heavily toward 'immortal' than 'spirit.' Okay, there's the occasional fallen angel, but most deities keep a low profile. You grumble their names under your breath when you're annoyed - not because you don't want them to hear you, but because you know they'd ignore you even if you were shouting. Gods just don't bother with people anymore.
Sunshine has, at several times over the past few months, been the unfortunate (or fortunate) exception to common-sense gems, like 'no one escapes from vampires' or 'no one skegs a sucker with a table knife' or 'humans and vampires can't have weird friendships' - okay, that last one she made up, but the only reason it's not a well-worn saying is because it goes without saying. Becoming the unfortunate (definitely unfortunate) exception to 'gods don't bother with people anymore' is not on her list of things to do with her day.
... Though it might explain the teleport. And why her poor wards couldn't do anything about it.
No. Nope. This is unacceptable.
"So you're saying I was brought here by some kind of almost-god," she recaps, furrowing her brow at him. "Why?" Clearly she is in need of guidance, here, and the closest thing to a welcome wagon she got was the aforementioned damn Conestoga. She considers Felix, whose idea of conjuration apparently does not line up with her idea of conjuration... but does, on the bright side, seem to lend itself well to sorting this out. "Can you call them up and ask them?"
Sunshine has, at several times over the past few months, been the unfortunate (or fortunate) exception to common-sense gems, like 'no one escapes from vampires' or 'no one skegs a sucker with a table knife' or 'humans and vampires can't have weird friendships' - okay, that last one she made up, but the only reason it's not a well-worn saying is because it goes without saying. Becoming the unfortunate (definitely unfortunate) exception to 'gods don't bother with people anymore' is not on her list of things to do with her day.
... Though it might explain the teleport. And why her poor wards couldn't do anything about it.
No. Nope. This is unacceptable.
"So you're saying I was brought here by some kind of almost-god," she recaps, furrowing her brow at him. "Why?" Clearly she is in need of guidance, here, and the closest thing to a welcome wagon she got was the aforementioned damn Conestoga. She considers Felix, whose idea of conjuration apparently does not line up with her idea of conjuration... but does, on the bright side, seem to lend itself well to sorting this out. "Can you call them up and ask them?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say they want you for some scheme or quest of theirs. If I knew which one it was I could tell you what kind of scheme... or, yes, figure out how to ask them." Felix has turned his frown on her now, because wherever she's come from there's still the question of what her mystery sender is up to. And why they chose to send her, specifically.
He rubs the side of his jaw, concentrating again on the read he got. "If it's any comfort, it didn't feel like one of the really nasty ones. Just this pure energy and... oh." He blinks, looking a little stunned. "Wait a minute. Unless it's... Meridia?"
He's almost surprised he didn't think of it before, but Meridia's not exactly the most active of the Daedric powers. He's not even sure if she has a cult these days: he's certainly never dealt with her directly. And the time he did so indirectly didn't end too well.
He rubs the side of his jaw, concentrating again on the read he got. "If it's any comfort, it didn't feel like one of the really nasty ones. Just this pure energy and... oh." He blinks, looking a little stunned. "Wait a minute. Unless it's... Meridia?"
He's almost surprised he didn't think of it before, but Meridia's not exactly the most active of the Daedric powers. He's not even sure if she has a cult these days: he's certainly never dealt with her directly. And the time he did so indirectly didn't end too well.
Meridia, eh? Sunshine already dislikes her. Him? It? Whatever.
She's willing to tolerate a certain amount of magical binding, mostly because she doesn't have any choice in the matter and at least it makes an unfortunate sort of sense. She saved Con's life, he saved hers, they've got some weird link as a result, fine. Not ideal for either of them, but fine. But this? She was at home, minding her own business, not forging any carthaginian bonds with questionable deities from other universes. Whoever this Meridia is, she/he/it has no business yanking her out of her own home (and probably leaving all of her basic wards in a hell of a state, if they're even still live anymore) and recruiting her to some cause that has jack-all to do with her.
"I don't do quests," she says firmly, folding her arms. "Or schemes. I... I make cinnamon rolls, okay? I'm a baker." And maybe that's not all she wants to do with her life, but it's enough for now, and either way, her life belongs to her. "So just..." she makes a vague, flappy hand gesture, "just call Meridia up and say I'm not interested."
She's willing to tolerate a certain amount of magical binding, mostly because she doesn't have any choice in the matter and at least it makes an unfortunate sort of sense. She saved Con's life, he saved hers, they've got some weird link as a result, fine. Not ideal for either of them, but fine. But this? She was at home, minding her own business, not forging any carthaginian bonds with questionable deities from other universes. Whoever this Meridia is, she/he/it has no business yanking her out of her own home (and probably leaving all of her basic wards in a hell of a state, if they're even still live anymore) and recruiting her to some cause that has jack-all to do with her.
"I don't do quests," she says firmly, folding her arms. "Or schemes. I... I make cinnamon rolls, okay? I'm a baker." And maybe that's not all she wants to do with her life, but it's enough for now, and either way, her life belongs to her. "So just..." she makes a vague, flappy hand gesture, "just call Meridia up and say I'm not interested."
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