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
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!!"
Delight fizzes in her chest, and she feels joy leap up, knowing before the words even come out - that sound is too full of success to be anything else. He's found it, and who can think about trees and their roots at this time. The sapling's shape falls away in favor of her own, because she can be no one but herself when she wraps her arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze. Beaming at him, and gazing at his creation.
"Radar! You did it!"
Of course he was going to, always - she wouldn't have given him this if she wasn't sure he'd figure it out somehow - but that doesn't take away from the first of it all.
"I DID IT!" he crows, and as soon as Fever's got arms again he's flinging his around her, too, whooping with glee. The magic hand spins in circles, completely useless at anything except expressing all his joy. "It worked! I actually did a magic spell! Oh gosh look at that -- "
If they weren't seated on the ground he'd be bouncing and spinning around just as ecstatically as the hand. He can't believe it! Even with everybody telling him normal people could do magic too, even with how he felt it while he was practicing, it didn't seem like it could really be real. And now -- !!
"Wait wait wait wait let's find something for you to pick up. Something for it to hold."
Still, she's holding onto him in glee, pride and delight co-mingling. If her mind sounded like a newborn horse that was ready to run, it's begun in earnest, thrilled to exist and to learn how to go.
Still with that giddy grin, he looks around for something. The hand moves like it's peering around, too, which is ridiculous and maybe something he's gotta practice more later, but who cares? He did magic! A real spell!
"There!"
He points toward a palm-sized rock not too far away, and as soon as he thinks it, the hand zooms over to scoop it up. It feels a little weird, like the weight of the stone is pressing on his mind, but it's not a very heavy lift.
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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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Delight fizzes in her chest, and she feels joy leap up, knowing before the words even come out - that sound is too full of success to be anything else. He's found it, and who can think about trees and their roots at this time. The sapling's shape falls away in favor of her own, because she can be no one but herself when she wraps her arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze. Beaming at him, and gazing at his creation.
"Radar! You did it!"
Of course he was going to, always - she wouldn't have given him this if she wasn't sure he'd figure it out somehow - but that doesn't take away from the first of it all.
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If they weren't seated on the ground he'd be bouncing and spinning around just as ecstatically as the hand. He can't believe it! Even with everybody telling him normal people could do magic too, even with how he felt it while he was practicing, it didn't seem like it could really be real. And now -- !!
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Still, she's holding onto him in glee, pride and delight co-mingling. If her mind sounded like a newborn horse that was ready to run, it's begun in earnest, thrilled to exist and to learn how to go.
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Still with that giddy grin, he looks around for something. The hand moves like it's peering around, too, which is ridiculous and maybe something he's gotta practice more later, but who cares? He did magic! A real spell!
"There!"
He points toward a palm-sized rock not too far away, and as soon as he thinks it, the hand zooms over to scoop it up. It feels a little weird, like the weight of the stone is pressing on his mind, but it's not a very heavy lift.