Who: Fever, Helena, and those threading with them What:January non-event things. When: All month. Where: Across the isle. Warning(s): To be noted in threads individually
His eyes go round. "Really? But you're so good at it! You can do all kinds of magic like it ain't nothing!"
Another attempt. It feels more -- solid this time, like the air is pushing back a little against his palms. Without realizing, Radar pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, squinting down at his hands.
"That I can," she agrees, full of every confidence in that, "but that doesn't mean I can do everything. I've never worked with the type of spell he gave me before now. It'd be fantastic if it was easy, don't get me wrong, but it isn't, and so I have to keep working with it."
"Yeah." More thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You know back home it seems like every other month they got a new form they want us to fill out for requisitions or a new thing they wanna start including in everybody's personnel file, and half the time it means I gotta change up how I do stuff all over again. It's not as tough as magic, but it ain't something you can learn once and never have to learn again, either. Voco."
Something sputters to life between his hands, a glimmer that barely lasts half a second, but Radar still yelps in delight. "Didja see that?!"
She's as excited as he is, having caught the beginnings of it instantly. Oh, it's going to work. It's getting closer and closer now. Maybe if they keep talking, it'll help - help Radar relax or at least pass the time. It certainly can't hurt.
"And yeah, sometimes it feels like that. I'd show you how the spell is so far, but it's nothing worth seeing. Just difficult, and something I can work on for only so long until I get another of my headaches." And still far too cute and not vicious and deadly enough. "You know what you want to do, and you know you can do it, but you have to figure out the how."
Wizards get spellbooks where they write their predetermined rites and methods. But sorcerers? Things need to be felt and refined. She can only teach him the way she knows, in the end.
"Aw, I think any kind of magic's worth seeing," says Radar loyally. "It's still real neat finding out all the stuff you can do with it, even if I've been here a while. What kinda spell is it?"
The motion of his hands grows smoother as he talks. Definitely seems like when he's not thinking about the spell so hard that his brain's about to overheat, it gets easier to string all the components together properly.
"Shapeshifting," she admits, noticing the change to his hands. Overthinking it is as bad as underthinking it, and this is meant to be easy and fun. "I don't have the same variety as he does - he can be anything he likes, all the chaos in him - but I'm learning to be something different. Things that both are and are not me."
Max hadn't realized, at least, so there's hope for the future of slinking past undetected.
"But, I don't entirely know how to be these other things yet. So Father says, when I asked him why it wasn't working how it should."
Instantly, Radar perks up. (Well, perks up further.)
"Shapeshifting! Gee, I always wondered about shapeshifting magic. You know Miss Ylva told me about it the first day I was here and I dunno if I'd wanna spend too long as something else, but I thought it was the neatest thing, being able to turn into an animal whenever you wanted. I bet it'll be real handy once you get the hang of it! There's -- well," and here he pulls a mild face, "Edgar's got a friend who's over at the ranch a lot who can turn into whatever she wants, and a lot of time she just uses it to tease me, but she's good at it. Maybe she can help teach you how to be other things too."
(Look, you can't blame Nimona too much. Radar's such an easy mark sometimes.)
"I know her, it just..." And here, Radar will bear witness to a rare sight, Fever looking somewhat embarrassed at the thought. "Nimona's really good at what she does, and I don't know. It feels like asking a world famous artist to look at a child's sketch drawing. I feel like I should at least have a basic handling of it before I ask for her advice."
Oh, gosh, Fever. She looks so unlike herself that Radar's gotta pause all his gesturing for a second, just so he can give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder instead.
"Hey, maybe if you want, you could practice while I'm practicing? We can work on our spells together!"
Because, well, Fever's kinda got a point. Considering how much Nimona teases Radar, he's pretty sure she'd poke fun at Fever, too, and nobody needs that when they're just learning.
She nods, and lets him stay with the Mage Hand for now. Okay. Trying to be something else. The cat? No, no, she doesn't feel much like a cat today - and what else is there, really? She hasn't tried a lot of this - if she had her way, what she would have inherited would have been the ability to make the ground unsteady beneath someone's feet, guessing all the while, while she stays rooted.
What it looks like from the outside is Fever screwing up her face with her eyes closed, gesturing fruitlessly for a moment. Opening them, looking at her hands, and....nothing.
"If I can just-"
Nope, back to it again. It's difficult, like it doesn't want to be caught, and her own magic can't cage it in. Too nimble for her to grasp on her own.
"If you don't wanna be a cat, what about a dog?" suggests Radar. With his attention divided between Fever and his own work, he misses the part where she didn't say most of that out loud. "Sometimes they're easier to catch than cats. Or maybe somethin' else kinda slow moving?"
Maybe he's being too literal about it, but if they're both thinking about the spell as something you catch -- well, it makes sense to him.
Whether she said it or not, she appreciates the advice. Slower moving, easier to catch. Something that won't flee from her grasp, but something that will let her try to be it. And that, plus the idea of roots, mixes and merges and forms, until she finds herself slipping into a new shape, a new way to be. It is not so much a process that Radar will be able to see, so much as it's felt - life existing even in the strangest of shapes.
Smaller, of course. They've been smaller since the start. Something where multiple roots form a base to walk with, where limbs bend and turn, a few branches sprouting from joints. Tender and new bark where skin might be, green shoots that bud out, wanting to attempt to grow, parts that curve towards the sun and others that knot and twist, until this way of being settles over her entirely.
Only about three feet tall, the sapling creature looks down at wooden hands, utterly perplexed now. Well. That's certainly different.
And then, completely involuntarily, he lets out a squeaky gasp of delight before remembering his promise and clapping both hands over his mouth.
Once he's absolutely positive he won't burst out laughing: "Fever! You're -- " He doesn't have to crouch, really, three feet tall is still way over half his height, but Radar bends down enough to meet her level, a huge grin on his face that couldn't more clearly telegraph this is the cutest darn thing I've seen all day if he tried. "You're a tree-person! You almost kinda look like those Brutoks they got running around the woods! Oh, gosh -- "
At least someone finds this situation adorable. She pouts, as much as a youthful tree-thing can pout, turning in place to try to get a hang on how it works to move with the root-legs. Weird. So very, very weird.
"Radar -"
Her voice isn't quite the same either, needing to move in an entirely different fashion to become speech, changed by a wooden rasp, but still recognizable as her.
"I've never been a tree before."
Has she? Hasn't she? All these thoughts about growth and roots and spring coming, it must have latched onto the ideas and used them as fuel for the transformation. What does she do? What do tree-people do? She's certainly not inclined to go among the Brutoks.
At least Radar can feel taller than someone for a while.
"Me neither!" Yeah, he doesn't sound any less delighted. "What's it like? Do you feel like you wanna sprout more leaves or stick your feet in the dirt? Oh -- " Eyes wide. "What're you gonna do if a bird lands in your hair?"
At least the chickens are too far away to come over and investigate.
(Though Radar is once again losing the fight against laughter, much as he tries.)
Oh, this is awkward. Trying to move is awkward, there's a third root that needs to be contended with and her back has to be really straight and it's not the most even terrain as she's moving and it probably all looks like something new toddling about, wobbling while it tries to make sense of how to exist in a space.
You try being a tree sometime, she thinks at him loudly.
And yet. And yet she hasn't fallen, and yet bit by bit, it feels like settling into a different cut of clothing, as fabric warms to the skin. Something in her must feel something like a tree, or the change would not hold. Hmm. Curious to investigate.
"Everything I turn into! I end up as a child! An infant who can barely walk!"
This will still probably be funny to him, while she bemoans her fate - but look, magic isn't always easy, even for experts. He can feel some relief that his difficulties aren't unexpected.
"And Father simply acts as if that's supposed to make sense!"
Okay okay okay, deep breaths, Radar, you can stop laughing for five seconds, right?
"Well -- " Another snicker. (He made it four seconds. So close!) Trying to sound as reasonable as he can while he's wiping his eyes from mirth, "It does kinda make sense, doesn't it? If you're just learning, babies are just learning, too, so..."
Oh no he just made the mistake of picturing Fever as a tiny puppy and now he's gonna start giggling again. Radar clamps a hand over his mouth to shut himself up.
With a frustrated sound, she continues trying to get her legs (roots?) to work how she wants them to. No one tells you this part about being a living tree.
"Try the spell again, Radar."
No, she's not trying to transparently change the subject and regain her nonexistent dignity, what are you talking about. She's doubly glad she didn't try the cat shape today.
"Yes ma'am," he says automatically around the last of his giggles, sounding a little like he would if a stern nurse was trying to restore order in a chaotic meeting. He doesn't mean to! It just kinda slips out.
Crossing his legs and straightening his back a little, he clears his throat, returning to work. "Voco." Nope. "Voco."
The repetitive muttering and intense concentration continues a few more minutes. And then --
"Voco."
-- in the space between Radar's palms, a dense, shimmering swirl whips up. Not just the faint sparks of before; within seconds, it coalesces as a semi-translucent hand. He startles, yanking both of his other hands away. The magic one stays put where he left it.
Very, very carefully, as he keeps staring and focusing as hard as he can, it rotates and wiggles its fingers like it's waving hi.
Radar yells out in wordless, ecstatic triumph, so loud that one of the cows halfway across the field moos irritably. "FEVER! FEVER LOOK!!"
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Another attempt. It feels more -- solid this time, like the air is pushing back a little against his palms. Without realizing, Radar pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, squinting down at his hands.
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Something sputters to life between his hands, a glimmer that barely lasts half a second, but Radar still yelps in delight. "Didja see that?!"
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She's as excited as he is, having caught the beginnings of it instantly. Oh, it's going to work. It's getting closer and closer now. Maybe if they keep talking, it'll help - help Radar relax or at least pass the time. It certainly can't hurt.
"And yeah, sometimes it feels like that. I'd show you how the spell is so far, but it's nothing worth seeing. Just difficult, and something I can work on for only so long until I get another of my headaches." And still far too cute and not vicious and deadly enough. "You know what you want to do, and you know you can do it, but you have to figure out the how."
Wizards get spellbooks where they write their predetermined rites and methods. But sorcerers? Things need to be felt and refined. She can only teach him the way she knows, in the end.
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The motion of his hands grows smoother as he talks. Definitely seems like when he's not thinking about the spell so hard that his brain's about to overheat, it gets easier to string all the components together properly.
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Max hadn't realized, at least, so there's hope for the future of slinking past undetected.
"But, I don't entirely know how to be these other things yet. So Father says, when I asked him why it wasn't working how it should."
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"Shapeshifting! Gee, I always wondered about shapeshifting magic. You know Miss Ylva told me about it the first day I was here and I dunno if I'd wanna spend too long as something else, but I thought it was the neatest thing, being able to turn into an animal whenever you wanted. I bet it'll be real handy once you get the hang of it! There's -- well," and here he pulls a mild face, "Edgar's got a friend who's over at the ranch a lot who can turn into whatever she wants, and a lot of time she just uses it to tease me, but she's good at it. Maybe she can help teach you how to be other things too."
(Look, you can't blame Nimona too much. Radar's such an easy mark sometimes.)
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"Hey, maybe if you want, you could practice while I'm practicing? We can work on our spells together!"
Because, well, Fever's kinda got a point. Considering how much Nimona teases Radar, he's pretty sure she'd poke fun at Fever, too, and nobody needs that when they're just learning.
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She knows it'll be and look ridiculous. Expecting him to not laugh might be a bridge too far.
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He can do that much!
gmail taking a tag snack i see
What it looks like from the outside is Fever screwing up her face with her eyes closed, gesturing fruitlessly for a moment. Opening them, looking at her hands, and....nothing.
"If I can just-"
Nope, back to it again. It's difficult, like it doesn't want to be caught, and her own magic can't cage it in. Too nimble for her to grasp on her own.
They're going to be here for a bit.
gdi gmail, tags are not a tasty treat >:(
Maybe he's being too literal about it, but if they're both thinking about the spell as something you catch -- well, it makes sense to him.
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Smaller, of course. They've been smaller since the start. Something where multiple roots form a base to walk with, where limbs bend and turn, a few branches sprouting from joints. Tender and new bark where skin might be, green shoots that bud out, wanting to attempt to grow, parts that curve towards the sun and others that knot and twist, until this way of being settles over her entirely.
Only about three feet tall, the sapling creature looks down at wooden hands, utterly perplexed now. Well. That's certainly different.
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And then, completely involuntarily, he lets out a squeaky gasp of delight before remembering his promise and clapping both hands over his mouth.
Once he's absolutely positive he won't burst out laughing: "Fever! You're -- " He doesn't have to crouch, really, three feet tall is still way over half his height, but Radar bends down enough to meet her level, a huge grin on his face that couldn't more clearly telegraph this is the cutest darn thing I've seen all day if he tried. "You're a tree-person! You almost kinda look like those Brutoks they got running around the woods! Oh, gosh -- "
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"Radar -"
Her voice isn't quite the same either, needing to move in an entirely different fashion to become speech, changed by a wooden rasp, but still recognizable as her.
"I've never been a tree before."
Has she? Hasn't she? All these thoughts about growth and roots and spring coming, it must have latched onto the ideas and used them as fuel for the transformation. What does she do? What do tree-people do? She's certainly not inclined to go among the Brutoks.
At least Radar can feel taller than someone for a while.
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At least the chickens are too far away to come over and investigate.
(Though Radar is once again losing the fight against laughter, much as he tries.)
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A tiny beat.
"...look, I'm not going to get mad if you laugh at this. It's...it's so..."
The only answer is the ringing thought in her head. Why do I have to be little?
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Radar thumps to the ground and starts cackling with helpless laughter.
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You try being a tree sometime, she thinks at him loudly.
And yet. And yet she hasn't fallen, and yet bit by bit, it feels like settling into a different cut of clothing, as fabric warms to the skin. Something in her must feel something like a tree, or the change would not hold. Hmm. Curious to investigate.
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"Sorry!" he squeak-wheezes, and he does mean it, even if he can't get the laughter under control. "Sorry, it's just -- bein' mad you're little -- !"
Not that Radar's without sympathy here, but it's also the funniest thing in the world right now.
"Sorry!!"
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This will still probably be funny to him, while she bemoans her fate - but look, magic isn't always easy, even for experts. He can feel some relief that his difficulties aren't unexpected.
"And Father simply acts as if that's supposed to make sense!"
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"Well -- " Another snicker. (He made it four seconds. So close!) Trying to sound as reasonable as he can while he's wiping his eyes from mirth, "It does kinda make sense, doesn't it? If you're just learning, babies are just learning, too, so..."
Oh no he just made the mistake of picturing Fever as a tiny puppy and now he's gonna start giggling again. Radar clamps a hand over his mouth to shut himself up.
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"Try the spell again, Radar."
No, she's not trying to transparently change the subject and regain her nonexistent dignity, what are you talking about. She's doubly glad she didn't try the cat shape today.
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Crossing his legs and straightening his back a little, he clears his throat, returning to work. "Voco." Nope. "Voco."
The repetitive muttering and intense concentration continues a few more minutes. And then --
"Voco."
-- in the space between Radar's palms, a dense, shimmering swirl whips up. Not just the faint sparks of before; within seconds, it coalesces as a semi-translucent hand. He startles, yanking both of his other hands away. The magic one stays put where he left it.
Very, very carefully, as he keeps staring and focusing as hard as he can, it rotates and wiggles its fingers like it's waving hi.
Radar yells out in wordless, ecstatic triumph, so loud that one of the cows halfway across the field moos irritably. "FEVER! FEVER LOOK!!"
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