diatuooc | Test Drive Reloaded! #1

Test Drive #1

Welcome to Diatu (I Like Swords)

The Arrival Hall is all aflurry with activity! No one had expected so many Sundered to suddenly pop up, the staff find themselves desperately scrambling to keep up with the influx, and a bunch of new arrivals find themselves hanging out in the Hall lobby, waiting to be seen, sent home if possible, or counseled and prepared for student life if not. Rumors run like wildfire: some people believe they've been kidnapped by aliens, a worryingly persistent suggestion that this is a setup for a murder-tournament keeps circulating, and one or two nutcases insist that a dragon tinkered with the rules of magic and now they have to study at a magic school to survive. Pie stocks are grievously low, and thought Headmaster Birony herself appeared and began violating the rules of space and time to summon pies from the future, a second Headmaster Birony with an eyepatch, several war scars, and a wild hairdo appeared and promptly yelled at the first Headmaster for stealing her pies. A pie fight erupted. Pie stocks are even more grievously low now.

Still, here's your chance to talk to your fellow arrivals. Or aggressively attack the nearest target in an outrage (they set up a target dummy and labeled it VENT AGGRESSION HERE, and are trusting you guys on the honor system). Staff don't have time to talk, but they promise they'll get to you soon!

A Day In The Life

The sun is bright, the air is warm, a cool breeze blows across Anastara, clouds keep drifting directly through the island and engulfing people... it's summer on Ascelion, and the day is ripe for learning. Or as ripe as Diatu Magicademy ever can be -- though no one would trade the character and charm of the lively campus for some stodgy, regimented school more interested in forcing students into the mold than encouraging them to be their best, sometimes conditions in the Magicademy are a little inconvenient.

A toilet in Kedrigan Hall keeps clamping onto the butts of those who attempt to use it. Thus far, half a dozen students have been freed from its clutches by their friends, while reports of singed buttocks have increased twofold. (Yes, only twofold. Think about that for a minute.) Staff are on the lookout for a prankster rather than a commode, so as of yet the treacherous toilet has gone unpunished...

Not far away, a group of cleaning golems has occupied the promenade as part of an ongoing strike. As they possess only rudimentary intelligence, they believe this involves seizing objects from anyone who passes nearby and hurling them at a set of bowling pins. Meliandre Tomekin, Head of Groundskeeping, has set up shop across the Promenade; any student who wanders too close gets a big block of ice shoved into their hands, along with instructions to hold it still while she shows those reprobates what-for...

In the Great Hall proper, school clubs and activities have, as was inevitable, escalated competition for new students to yet another level which only isn't a war crime because it isn't part of a treaty yet: they've conscripted geese. Horrible geese, to be precise, who dispense flyers for various clubs with less subtlety than a nuclear holocaust. Some of them fight for dominance, others have teamed up to pin down innocent students and stuff leaflets down their throat, and one has a wand and is somehow casting Discovery spells?!

A Forgery!

"I tried a mass-Forging technique," the older student says, showing off the briefcase full of identical wands and a sign that says 'FOR $ALE CHEAP'. "Some of them are exactly what I intended, they self-correct runes, but the rest, well.. . I don't know, I can't tell, and I'm not really interested in finding out one by one, so... you buying?"

All sales final. No refunds. Caveat emptor. As for what the wands do, well... there's a reason he answered with an ellipsis when asked. On the other hand, maybe the effect isn't too terrible? Maybe it's even beneficial! Maybe the wand shoots out rainbows and muffins! Or maybe it just animates and strikes you vigorously about the head and shoulders...

Three Dragon War

Someone, we're not naming names, canons, or the color of eyes and the dragon to which they belong that forms said person's obsession, may or may not be indirectly responsible for the latest game craze sweeping Anastara: Three Dragon War, a collectible card game that features players as dragons, deploying spells, creatures, and Sundered against each other to destroy each and avoid the machinations of the Third Dragon. The awesome thing about the game is that the Third Dragon comes in all different forms: classic bundled-with-the-starter-pack Ire, super-rare Anastara Diatu, suspiciously-rare Cam Birony, ultra-common Large Eagull, and more. The concept of an outside force adding randomness to the battle and being manipulated in turn by cards means Three Dragon War is the hottest card game that's come along since the last card game that was the hottest that had come along came along.

Face-to-face, you find yourself in a duel over these cards and the magical images they summon. Can this untested deck come through if you believe in it? Or are statistics and probability actual things that actually happen? Dragon Battle! Jiao Long Fu!

There's One in Every Test Drive

Not every magical disaster is caused by some wayward student you don't know. Many of them are caused by you instead. To wit: you're on the spot in one of the magical labs, being called on to demonstrate a technique more advanced than others you've mastered so far. Failure is expected, and the wards should prevent any injury to others from a miscast spell. But will the sparks of your magic just sputter out and die? Or will you inadvertently mispronounce, misform, misshape, or miscalculate in a way that brings chaos to you and your lab partner?

(You could also manage to succeed in casting the spell, but that isn't very fun.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Half feel like doing that anyway. Christ, I'm tired. I don't know how you deal with being immortal. Half the time..." But he didn't want to complete that sentence, even to himself.

"Fine, fine. You win. Do as you will with me and then leave me be. But...I mean it you know?" He watched him."You are...so much more than you give yourself credit for."

Half the time... there were so many ways that could end with Alec.

"I'm not, really." The kind words melted away the playful, flattered smiles into something a bit more somber and humbled. Looking away from those intense eyes, he took Alec by the arm again to lead him somewhere nearby to sit. He needed rest and Aziraphale thought it might be too scandalous to offer his own bed and quiet room for a much deserved nap, even if that's all that was. "Thank you, but I'm just a silly old creature who likes you. Now," he said, clearing his throat and producing a dish of water and a soft cloth from somewhere out of the either, "how about we get you taken care of?"

He wouldn't press. Words were said and the point didn't need to be belabored. He sat gratefully and briefly closed his eyes. He opened them again when Fell spoke, wondering where the hell that had even come from and then deciding he didn't want to know.

"I'll get it thanks." He took the bowl and cloth because the last thing either of them wanted was Fell administering to him, even if Fell didn't know it yet. "Could use some tea though." A pause as he wiped at his face. "And a mirror."

He frowned as the bowl was taken from him, but Alec was Alec: nothing if not a stubborn fool, determined to avoid all human contact and connection. Fine, then.

"You're asking for an awful lot," he said, and produced, with a flourish, a small handheld mirror from behind his back as if by magic. The minor miracle, so soon after another small one, was a surprising strain to his abilities. Best not to overdo it, then. Besides...

"It's just not the same if I miracle it up. Will you still be here, if I," he nodded in the direction of the Great Hall and any available actual tea, "scurry off to make some real tea?"

Contact was a dangerous thing. Once it seeped under your skin, you could never quite forget it. It became a part of you that was difficult to ignore. Eventually all the warmth was leeched out of you until it was just a memory.

He frowned at his own face in the mirror, almost regretting asking for one, but knew it was a worse idea than to miss a bit of blood.

All his.

He pressed away the memory.

"Don't trouble yourself. I'll keep."

"Alright."

Contact was a human thing, and he felt Alec denied himself too many of the things that made human life better. Still, he was respectful of his friend's wishes and left him there with just the lightest of touches to his arm in reassurance. (And to reassure himself that Alec was very much here and not going to blow away.

A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea made, if memory served, how Alec seemed to prefer, as well as a plate with a sweet biscuit (for Alec, or for himself, whichever it came down to), and took a seat.

"Well, then, let's have look at you, shall we."

It was fine. If you had something and took advantage of it, you didn't deserve to have it anymore. Especially when others did not. He had managed to clean most of the blood off when Fell returned, revealing bruises and shallow cuts and an exhausted Alec-- but then he always was.

"If you heal me I will never forgive you." Just throwing that out there. He took the tea and actually took a sip of it to pacify Fell-- then closed his eyes. It was sweet and hot and perfect and when he let out a breath it was probably too long and too deep so when he opened his eyes again he felt vaguely disoriented.

"I'm fine. Really. Just tired."

"I wouldn't even dream of it, at least not with anything magical." He knew the boundaries there. Those lines had been drawn quite clearly multiple times during their stay in New York, and though he often thought about how easy a miracle would be, he wouldn't dare. He leaned in to look at a cut on Alec's forehead and tutted lightly. "Though a little antiseptic, a plaster, and an aspirin would probably do you some good."

Alec almost looked like he might go to sleep just sitting here; in fact, Aziraphale wasn't sure that he hadn't when he closed his eyes for an extended period of time.

"I know. I'm sorry. You always do draw the short end of the stick on the arrivals. Rest up here and when you're ready, I'll walk you to your room."

"Good. And no plaster. It'll be fine I'm not bleeding out exactly and it wouldn't help anyway." He'd rather have a cut than a ridiculous plaster that would make everyone ask what happened. He took another sip of tea, grateful for the way the heat seemed to spread through his veins.

"Mm no more than anyone else. And... at least I'm not alone."

He said this without looking at Fell, and then sighed and stretched. "I might nod off a bit in a little while." But only for a short nap. He didn't need to be in here if An-- Crowley showed up. It would just cause questions.

"Thanks."

Test Drive Reloaded! #1

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