diatuooc | Test Drive #3

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test drive

Test Drive #3

Test Drive #3

Lightning Crash

The weather over the floating island of Ascelion during spring months is best described as "hellacious"; its elevation puts it right among the worst of stormclouds and fuels their thunderous fire as they sweep past it and electrically scrape against its sides. Rain is frequent, but lightning is almost constant, along with thunderous rumbles that roll across the city and the open spaces of the Magicademy like waves.

But today is particularly bad. Webs of electricity crackle through the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud or grounding themselves on towers of the Magicademy angrily. None of them seem to endanger the students, but there's a first time for everything, isn't there? As titanic fury threatens to tear the sky in half, do you risk stepping into the outside? Does the infrasonic rumbling trigger fear or terror in your gut, as such deep waves are known to do? Perhaps you've learned a spell that will protect you. Or perhaps you've poorly learned a spell that may or may not protect you...

Wand Wrong Way

The rumors around campus speak of a small and musty store deep in the Merchant District, on a side road to a side road, where only those in-know go to find items that would surely draw too much notice if displayed publicly. Powdered dragon tail, eye of sphinx, swords Forged with magic-cutting spells, and most valuable of all, the Gateway Wand. Surely this legendary wand, in which the full power of Sundering hums, could get you and your friends back home.

Rumors are pretty lousy with directions, though. The Merchant District offers ample chance to get lost, to get distracted, or to stumble down the wrong alley and find hoodlums all too eager to extract "tolls" from the lost and seemingly helpless. Does your adventure become disaster? Does this rumored shop even exist?

Pantalones Giganticus

At its heart, Modification seems like the most simple of schools. What could be more simple than arithmetic? Therefore, Modification also has the steepest and most shocking learning curve of all, as it rapidly balloons to more complicated mathematical expressions, more variables in the formulae, and above all more chance for error.

So really, the mistake is an honest one. Any hurried student, probably in their third or fourth year of study, could accidentally introduce an unnecessary factor into their equation. That is probably why your pants are now sized for someone four times large than you. (Not four sizes. Four times.) Worse, this has happened to EVERYONE -- the entire population of the Magicademy, student and staff and faculty alike, are trundling around in blown-up bloomers, too-large trousers, not-conveniently-sized knickers... you get the idea.

Now the bad news: to fix the error in formula and restore your pants to normal size, someone else has to get in them with you.

Labwork

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

Lightning Crash

Silhouetted in the corridor that became the tree-lined walkway stood a figure backlit by the constant flashes, his cloak and tail sweeping gently behind him as the winds that made it this far in tugged at them.

"I don't think I've ever seen a storm this bad before..."

Though quiet, his voice was intense, betraying a focus and a quiet worry -- not for his own safety, but simply the sanity involved in venturing out into that nightmare. It looked safe, and yet the moment it became unsafe, it would be too late...

Dust didn't ask for help, though -- not out of pride, but simply because asking for help didn't occur to him. Yet with the way his fingers curled and uncurled at his side, he clearly didn't want to venture out on his own. Help?

Pantalones Giganticus

Clutching at his massively oversized pants, with mounds upon mounds of cloth tumbling down in front of him and threatening to trip him at every moment, Dust hunched over low -- blushing so fiercely the color was visible through the fur on his face. He'd seen a couple of people fix the problem in a way that... that was, uh, a bit familiar? There had to be another way.

Trying his best to be subtle, Dust crept towards Kedrigan Hall. He was, as it happened, not subtle in the slightest. Especially not when going through the door inside, as his oversized pants snared on a doorknob and brought him up short.

"-Nrgh!"

(I'll do prose if you'd prefer!)

[She's used to blizzards, not rainstorms, but there's honestly not much difference between the two when they're raging at full force, splitting the heavens with raw elemental fury, beyond whether you end up frozen or simply waterlogged. She's also more used to physical cues than words or tone, needing that physical edge to things. So when Lys finds herself unable to sleep through the tempest and starts wandering the halls, the nervous gesture draws her attention as much as anything else.

It'd be a lie to say his form doesn't give her pause — anything that had fur, a tail, and walked on two legs was usually trying to rip her head off, fangs bared and claws out — but in light of his ability to speak, manner of dress, and all the rest, well. Lys figures she can put that much aside.]

It's pretty bad, yeah. [Easing up beside him, footsteps scuffing audibly between thunderclaps so as not to seem sneaky.] Did you need to go somewhere?

[Further good news: Dust doesn't have any claws. Nor does he seem to acknowledge her presence in any way for a moment; no motion, no verbal response, and absolutely no eye contact.]

[He's wondering just what to say.]

It's... trivial. There's some books in my room. I don't want to send my familiar out.

[Because if he feels it's unsafe, he won't ask his familiar to risk a thing for him. That isn't how Dust rolls.]

[The lack of immediate acknowledgement is, and has often been, preferable to shouting or snarled asides that cut to the quick. She's content to stand and wait until addressed, listening to the storm — and besides, the extra time to adjust to his sheer presence is more than welcome. Logically she's fine, but emotionally.....not quite there yet, though it won't show in her voice.]

I wouldn't want to send mine out in this weather either. [A beat.] But if you need something, you need something, right? I've been practicing some warding magic, so....I bet I could walk you there, if you'd like.

[The offer of help catches him by surprise -- mostly because he's used to doing everything by himself, or rather, himself with Ahrah and Fidget as his companions. But here...]

[What is he even doing here? He must be here for a purpose, but what is it?]

I'd appreciate that. A lot. Thank you.

[Offering help comes naturally; like Dust, accepting it is less familiar. But she doesn't have to worry about that particular inner struggle right now, only seeing her promise through.]

Mm, no problem! [An easy smile for her fellow Sundered, if perhaps not quite for Dust the Fluffy Bipedal of Unknown Origin.] Us students gotta look out for each other, you know? One sec...

[The spellcasting that follows is undeniably clumsy: slow gestures, hesitant invocation of a spell newly learned, her smile fading fast into a look of intense concentration. But like many times before, sheer willpower seems to make up for the lack of finesse, a shimmering wave of translucent magic spreading out from her fingertips. Guided by word and gesture, it surrounds them like a bubble, muffling the din of thunder and lightning.]

[She's just as weird to Dust. Worse, though, is how this entire world is composed of people like her. Some of the other Sundered aren't == 'human', is the word -- but there are no other Warmbloods here.]

[Never mind how awkward the casting itself is. The results count more than anything, and Dust lifts one hand slightly in surprise when the bubble erupts over them.]

That's incredible. I can't manage anything like this.

Eh?

[Even if it's not directly meant as such, the compliment catches her more off-guard than any sudden sword thrust or dagger stab ever could. The magic around them flickers, guttering with her concentration; wisps of outside air come swirling in, ruffling hair and fur alike.]

This is just— I've been practicing a lot, that's all.

[She takes a deep breath and concentrates anew, until the bubble is once more intact.]

But I have to focus to keep it going, so I definitely haven't mastered it. [Hmm...] After we get your books, maybe I could show you my notes? If you want, I mean.

[Dust is almost always on the other side of this sort of exchange -- helping because it's the right thing to do, without any expectation of reward or recompense. The thought brings a smile to his face.]

I'd like that. Most of my skills revolve around hitting things with a sword, so I'm not sure I can offer something in exchange, but I'll owe you a couple of big favors.

Dust | Dust: An Elysian Tail

lightning crash

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Lightning

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...pantalones

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