[OPEN] His Mission, the Transmission of Technology

[lasthumanvoice]

1. He stood upon the last bastions of the place [Time Off Work]
Cecil has, at Gerry's suggestion, taken a few days off from working as Yorick's right hand, the Community Radio Host and the reporter for the Gazette. The process was much easier than requesting time off from Station Management and dealing with their eldritch wrath. So, with some time off, he's going to of course spend some time working with Elias on learning magic and poking at the matter of Lot 37.

But first, he's going to climb some trees.

Perhaps you're in the Festival Green, or out in the forest near town, or even out in Paradesium, when you hear the grunts of a full grown man shimmying up a tree, or see him lose a shoe in the process. Or you look up and notice there's just an impish redhead in a branch above you. Wave hello, he's waving at you!


2. Looked out on the ruins with thunder in his face [Chaos Magic Training Mishap]
The spell had apparently failed, when he cast it with Elias. It was a simple transportation spell, and it had had no effect at the time. But it had, in fact, settled lightly on Cecil, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

KERCHOO!

As Cecil lets out a sneeze (thank you, seasonal allergies), he teleports sixty feet within line of sight, in a manner that some might identify as similar to a misty step. Perhaps he's just landed on your table at one of the cafes with sidewalk seating. Perhaps you were talking to him and now he's over there. Perhaps you now have a bewildered radio host sniffling on your balcony.

Whoops!


3. An introverted spectacle in the flowers on the rocks [Community Project]
Once Cecil returns to Town Hall for work, he begins a new project, inspired by the success of the Potluck. If you're an offworlder in the Town Hall part of town (to include the Library and Festival Green) for any reason, you might get a journalist running up with a notepad.

"Hi, hello, hi, sorry to interrupt your whatever-you're-doing, but I just wanted to ask if I could have a recipe from your homeworld for a project I'm working on. Bonus points if it's something that could be created with the ingredients on hand here!"

Even if you're in the Library, he's at full Cecil enthusiasm here, his smile bright and chipper and insistent.


4. The daisies on the ramparts blowing free [Wildcard]
Come at me at darkersolstice on discord

Comments

[abhorrently]

All right. Maybe he's not malicious. Maybe he's just pathetic. And damn it all, the particularly pathetic have her sympathy.

The balcony door is unlocked, cracked open. Make good use of it, Cecil.

[lasthumanvoice]

Cecil heads for the door, peeeeeering inside Fever's place. "Hi. I...just...lemme go down through and out, I'll leave you alone. I'm just. Having a thing."

And the moment he lets his guard down, a sneeze comes and now he's somehow on top of the china cabinet or nearest equivalent.

"Fuck."

[abhorrently]

"Let me guess. Surge of wild magic, or curse?"

She moves to shut and fasten the door again - no sense if he gets caught up on someone's roof across the street with this magic. He'll be whizzing about her apartment, but that's fine.

See the thing is, her place is almost entirely as generic as an apartment is when someone first arrives and is handed the key. There's no modifications to call it hers, little beyond what's already there and been offered out. Sure, there's boots by the door, and water's heating for coffee, and a few library books. But beyond the vague signs of someone living and sleeping there, it's almost painfully empty of personality.

"You might as well stay for coffee until it wears off. Unless you want to go misty stepping hither and thither and wind up on less amiable balconies."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Wild magic gets closest. Chaos magic, as the locals call it. I really thought the spell had fizzled out completely."

He shakes his head ruefully, not bothering to come down from his perch right away.

[abhorrently]

"Oh, chaos magic. I like that name for it a lot, actually."

She moves to go get two cups from the kitchen, pausing as she looks up at him.

"Are you one of those sorts who drinks coffee as is, or do you also prefer sugar?"

The cabinet won't be impossible to get down from. But the coffee is a lure to get him down.

[lasthumanvoice]

"Sugar, in abundance. Or honey, if any is on hand. Or maple syrup. I'm really not picky. Ianto hates me for that. I'll even drink inst--kerchoo!"

And now, he's atop the coffee table.

[abhorrently]

"How strong of a spell did you cast?"

Her head shakes a little, but she goes into the kitchen to start preparing the cups. Honey, then - she has a jar of it, and while her idea of 'in abundance' may not be Cecil's, it will still be quite sweet. Coming back, if he's still on the table, she'll just offer it out to him instead of setting it down.

"Just put down your cup if you feel another sneeze coming on."

[lasthumanvoice]

"I don't know how strong it is, but the sneezing isn't the spell, it's seasonal allergies!"

He looks both ridiculous and miserable.

[abhorrently]

She gives a little grimace of sympathy.

"Was it to to cure the allergies?"

[lasthumanvoice]

"No, no, teleportation was intended. But under a little more control, I swear." He takes a sip of the coffee, letting out a worlds-weary sigh. "I'm Cecil, by the way."

[abhorrently]

"Fever. Well met, if that still applies in the circumstances."

It's good and hot, set to banish the chill of the outside air from someone's body with its warmth.

"New magic does have a way of being a bit fussy until you wrangle it, though. Sorry about earlier, I wasn't sure if you were the world's most unobservant thief or not."

[lasthumanvoice]

"Oh! No, not at all. At least, not intentionally, and certainly not here and now." He laughs brightly. "Really, I think I'd be pretty bad at that."

[abhorrently]

"Good! There's nothing good for even an accomplished thief to steal anyway, unless you share my shoe size. Boots are always valuable."

And the wrought gold circlet she wears, but that's why she wears it instead of leaving it around.

"Why teleportation? The basic utility of it, or the scope of the feat?"

[lasthumanvoice]

"I was trying to understand some of the principles of magic that Elias was talking about and thought that spell would be a good starting point."

Someone isn't getting a good grade in apprentice, which is something that's normal to want and possible to achieve.

[abhorrently]

"Cecil, let me ask you a serious question. What other magic can you work?"

She's going to have to make a smart person guess about things. Which...isn't as simple as it sounds.

[lasthumanvoice]

"Not much, yet! Unless we count The Weather, which came with me here and was...adjusted by the local divinities."

He's. Uh. Very new to this, sort of.

[abhorrently]

"Wait, you can control the weather?"

She's definitely leaning closer from where she's taken a seat near him.

[lasthumanvoice]

"...define...control." He leans in as well, looking her right in the eyes.

[abhorrently]

"You can make it happen. Or alter it via magical means."

This is a full on staring situation.

[lasthumanvoice]

"Oh. Yes! I can! That, I can do."

...Cecil, no.

[abhorrently]

"Really. I've met a weather scientist before, but not someone with weather magic."

Cecil, yes.

[lasthumanvoice]

"Is...that an invitation to demonstrate?"

[abhorrently]

"My unexpected companion, if there is a day where someone offers to demonstrate a feat or a skill I've never come across and I say no, you might need to stare into my eyes to make sure there's nothing unusual wriggling about behind them."

No, really.

[lasthumanvoice]

"Well, then. My gracious host, with all the mischief in my heart, I bring you THE WEATHER."

And from nowhere at all, music begins to sound. And outside the building, clouds darken the sky, as gale-force winds begin to blow, a storm that's mostly noise and bluster, with raindrops blown sideways in sheets. The storm summoned lasts longer than the song does.

[abhorrently]

Oh. Oh, it's marvelous, and the light and wonder in her eyes is as if he just handed her a brand new and perfectly deadly blade to play with. She looks over at the window, and hurriedly sets down her coffee to rush to the balcony, throwing open the door so she can hasten out and stand in it. The storm around her, through her, and she feels invigorated in a way she hasn't in months, like all the air in her lungs is being replaced with something better. Out, out the air of the Serena Eterna, of the Village, of the Shadow Curse. Out the air of the goblin camp, of the nautiloid, of places long forgotten.

In, new air. In, gusts and clouds dark and heavy with rain, in goes the promise of something beautiful and wild and destructive, of new terrors and darkness and arcing possibilities, in goes a joy that does not quite reach the killing heights but is enough to soar in. Even after the song ends, she's standing out in the storm, gazing at the weather as sailors reach for land, as a lover sees their dear one upon the shore. Finally, she remembers herself enough to turn to the doorway, grin wide and honest.

"This is magnificent!"