picknicking

[dark_light]

There's something unutterably pleasant about landing in a bit of woods in the middle of Nowhere, Manitoba, removing a sandwich and an apple from her backpack and having a picnic before she's ready to move on. She could eat in midair, but it makes it too likely that she'll drop something and find it unrecoverable.

Path's on her knee, and her cloudpine is propped up against the tree next to her.

Comments

[dark_light]

"Unless it'll help you to hold onto it. I can't make a lot of headway at doing anything with it until you finish your spell."

[prodigal_miser]

"Fair enough. Would you like the one that offers translations for what it says, or the one that does the opposite for you first?"

[dark_light]

"The former. They 'talk to themselves'."

[prodigal_miser]

He nods, "Then I'll start with that one." He offers the alethiometer back to Isabella. "I'll ask when I need to see it again - I don't want to give you the impression that I'd run off with it, or something."

[dark_light]

She tucks it into a pocketlike location in her silks. "Thanks. I wouldn't appreciate it if you did that."

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin grins. "I figured. That would get me booted out of your attic or stabbed, I'm sure," he teases. He has no intention of taking her alethiometer.

[dark_light]

"At least one of those." She finishes sweeping the sugar into a corner, and wrangles it all into a dustpan and tips that into the trash.

[prodigal_miser]

"I'll avoid both by not doing that, then," says Adarin, then he gives a little wave and heads off to get to work! Spell creation, hurray. Write write mutter mutter cross out write write grin write mutter say curseword cross out a lot write write.

He will be at this for a while, and a few hours later will come by again to ask to look at the alethiometer again.

[dark_light]

She hands it over.

[prodigal_miser]

Intense staring ensues, then he nods at it, thanks her, and returns it with no trouble.

Another few hours later, he returns, and says, "I think I've got the first spell ready. You wanted to watch, right? I'm afraid it won't be as showy as yours, and I'll need to take a break for a few days after I finish it."

[dark_light]

"I would like to see, yes. A break from magic or from everything?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Magic. Hopefully not from everything, that would mean I miscalculated and sent myself into mana deprivation, or killed myself. Which would be bad," he replies.

[dark_light]

"What is mana deprivation?"

[prodigal_miser]

He winces. "I run out almost entirely of magic in my system, it sends me into a mixture of shock, pain, and illness. It would mean my next few days would be spent in the attic in agony," explains Adarin. "Or wherever I did the spell, but I thought the attic would be best."

[dark_light]

"Well, that sounds unpleasant. You're how sure that this won't happen?"

[prodigal_miser]

"Almost certain. I'm in the habit of not getting spells wrong, for obvious reasons," he informs her.

[dark_light]

"Okay. Let's see it, then."

[prodigal_miser]

He nods, and leads her to the attic. Once they're there he sits, retrieving one of the rocks the spell will be done on. Adarin takes a deep breath, mentally going over everything he needs to remember.

Then, he starts speaking. He was absolutely right when he said it wasn't as showy as a witch's spell, but as he chants, the attic quiets itself. Birds outside seem quiet and far away, or decided now was not the time to sing. Even the air around then goes more still, leaving only what he's saying. There is a look of absolute focus on his face as the spell continues, interrupting would be bad. There is a slow, subtle crescendo of the sound of her own heartbeat, and the blood in her ears as he reaches the end of the spell - it's not painful, just noticeable if she pays attention.

Finally, he says the final word and it all just ends. All sounds return to as they were. Adarin and the spelled rock are almost exactly as they were - except there's silvery etchings on the rock. Not to mention Adarin is very obviously not dead or going into shock.

He grins, just a bit triumphantly. "Your index, Isabella," he says, and holds out the rock to her.

[dark_light]

She takes it and inspects it. "Beautiful. How do I operate it?"

[prodigal_miser]

"It'll record everything a nearby alethiometer 'says' - it operates by touch, and organizes everything into numbers at the top for which separate thing it's saying. When it starts getting lots of recordings, to where it's filled up, rub the numbers at the top and they'll fade out to the next set. If you touch one of the numbers it has recorded, it'll look at that one in more detail, and list the symbols said below it, in order and with the number of times it was chosen. From there, you touch the symbol you want the translations for and it'll offer them. Touch another symbol and it'll switch it out," he explains.

[dark_light]

"That's fantastic. I'm so glad you landed where I was," says Isabella happily, putting her rock in proximity to her alethiometer.

[prodigal_miser]

Adarin grins. "I do try."

If the alethiometer is talking to itself, the newly spelled rock begins its work.

[dark_light]

And of course it is. Isabella immediately starts fiddling with the rock appropriately to interpret the first complete utterance it makes.

[prodigal_miser]

Her companion grins a bit more at this entire process working!

"Should I leave you alone with it? I won't be put out if you'd rather listen to the perfect-truth teller while my magic recuperates," he says, amused. He understands her excitement, of course - but since he can't ask it anything yet, he'll hold off on asking to borrow it.

[dark_light]

"Alone-ness is not required," she says merrily. "But I might not be very talkative."