only listens to the radio to see who's alive

[blackmagus]

Who: Fortescue, and you
What: Now that things are slightly less dangerous, she's going to have a better look around. And find the bar. As you do.
When: Day 64, whenever.
Where: Anywhere in town.
Warnings: Nothing yet. Will update if necessary. Shameless flirting.

It's been a few days since Fortescue's arrival. Her arm's started to calm down, though the swelling at her wrists is still present. According to the little wristband, people are returning to normal. Which should be promising, of course, except that Fortescue can't help but wonder what's in store for the next time. Her mind has plenty of ideas — she's seen too many laboratories and camps for it to be quiet. So, to help work that off, she slips out of her hidey hole and back into town, determined to at least get her bearings. Now that she's at least half sure that she won't have to defend herself on every corner.

Jazz trots at her heels, the little black cat's eyes alertly taking everything in, as she learns the layout of this peculiar little town. It isn't large. She's not sure what to think about that. But perhaps that means less space to cram more subjects into. A smaller sample pool? Whatever the reason, Fortescue soon uncovers the bar. That, at least, she can be pleased about, if only as a space to escape to when the alcohol runs dry. (A frightening thought, which she tries not to think too much about.)

Her cat jumps to her shoulders as she wanders in to take a look around.

Comments

[burnburnburn]

He lets out a bark of laughter as those familiar features click into place.

"That's a cat in your world?" He glances at her to check she's not tensing to spring at him, then crouches to take a better look at the cat. It's so odd to see a dumb creature looking so similar to one of the beastkin.

"It doesn't look like it'd be half as useful with a sword as the cats I've known." He extends a gloved finger to prod the cat's forehead.

[blackmagus]

She feels a small amount of surprise at that comment. Useful with a sword? What were there in his world, ninja cats? Jazz stiffens at Dilandau's finger, backing up a wary step. "...cats wield swords where you come from?" she wonders, an eyebrow raised.

[burnburnburn]

"Cats are one of the beastkin where I come from." He doesn't elaborate on what that means, as he's never imagined a world where only humans are sentient. It's as natural as dragons on the forests and rocks floating through the sky.

His gaze flickers up to her and he stands, not wanting to be seen as too curious in case she thought of a way to use it against him.

"The tails are the same, and the eyes and the movement too. That's all that caught my eye." His hand slips from his swordhilt as he devides Fortescue's probably not going to attack. "The twins I know in the army are a pair of stuck up bitches who don't realise having a position given to them by the benefactor they cling to doesn't mean they've got half the talent of those who worked to advance on rank."

He sniffs.

"I prefer the dogkin."

[blackmagus]

Fortescue frowns, thoughtfully, at this information. "That sounds a little like the Lykos elves, where I'm from," she muses. "They have human sort of frames, but they look more like wolves. Cats and wolves are separate species from them." She imagines that it would pretty offensive to call a Lykos a dog. It's not an experiment she wants to try.

He's a pain in the ass, this guy, but perhaps they can bond over their worlds, if nothing else. It's worth a try.

"What are your dogkin like?"

[burnburnburn]

"The wolfkin exist, but they're just forest dwellers. Dogkin are citydwellers. Jajuka's the only one I know well."

To be honest, he's relieved she doesn't give him a boggle-eyed look for talking about the kin. He's had enough of those over the last few day that he's beginning to wonder if perhaps all the recent memory lapses he's been suffering might have lead him to imagining some of the memories he still has.

"He's taller than most men." He holds his hand above his head, then gestures in front of his face to suggest a long, pointed muzzle. "He's got a longer face than the wolves and he's blonde instead of brown furred. He's got floppy ears too."

He finds himself suddenly missing the man.

"He's a bit soft when it comes to battle, but he's dependable. What are your Lykos like in a fight?"

[blackmagus]

"I've only seen one. Most of them are isolationists," she explains, almost idly. "But the one I saw was quite fierce. It's the Spirithowl and the Elben Mahr that fight most often."

They're in the war, in fact, on opposite sides. Her nose wrinkles just at her own mention of the Elben Mahr. She hopes there are none here, because she doesn't want to think about the panic that one could stir up. Especially if they were an Inveterate.

"They look more or less like humans. A bit taller."

[burnburnburn]

He's silent for a moment as he looks her up and down. There's nothing lewd in his gaze, only a cold assessment.

"So, are you a human? Every time I think I've met another one they turn out to have some sort of demon powers."

His latest run in with his new housemate has left his pride wounded and he scowls at that memory. He really should have brought his vino with him when he came to poke the cat.

[blackmagus]

Fortescue resists the urge to roll her eyes. Magus' have been called demons and devil-worshippers for as long as humans have practiced Blood magic, by religious busybodies who have no business making such judgments. Not when it was the Blood users who knew of, and could feel, the Planes. Dilandau doesn't know anything about that, and perhaps demons are real in his world.

...it's disconcerting to think about, but there you have it.

"No, I'm one hundred percent human, love." Give or take an extracted soul. She cocks her head. "But out of curiosity, what do you mean by 'demon powers'?"

Never mind the rumors that if you used Blood magic long enough, you became inhuman.

[burnburnburn]

He gives her a look for asking such an obvious question, then rolls his eyes as he realises that it's might be as alien to her as her cat is to him. He hates not having a common frame of reference.

"If it sounds familiar, speak up.

"They used to call what demons did magic, but it's really manipulating destiny in ways they shouldn't be able to. You can't ignore the Laws of Nature, that every action has an equal reaction and opposite reaction. The Draconians ignored that rule and they destroyed Atlantis with their arrogance."

He pauses to see if that answered her question.

[blackmagus]

Atlantis. Draconians. Demons. This guy must come from an exciting world. Fortescue, listening with genuine curiosity, considers what that makes her abilities. Tapping into the Plane of Shadow could, by some, be construed as perverting nature, but that isn't true at all. There are heavy consequences. That's why her soul had to be extracted in order for her to take her position as the Black Magus.

It's the presence of the Guides that makes her so certain of this. If using magic was terrible, then the Guides — natural spirits that held the universe together — would never choose them to use it. Phineas would have never grafted himself to Fortescue.

"I have some tricks up my sleeve, shall we say, but they don't upset the natural order. I tap into it. I have permission."

[burnburnburn]

His eyes narrow and his hand drifts near his sword hilt again, though he doesn't grip it yet. He's already had confirmation that the Mystic Moon, home to Atlantis, is called Earth by its inhabitants. The bitch his enemy had brought from that world was definitely a demon from what he'd seen, but that's not the only way to access the power of Fate.

"Then are you a Sorcerer?" And then, because he realises she might not know what that equally obvious word means. "Do you use machinery to manipulate fate, or are these 'tricks' a part of your essence?"

[blackmagus]

She raises an eyebrow at him. There's a word she recognizes, though it's an old one. "No machines involved."

Although there was one just inside her jacket pocket. But it was mundane. Guns with nautex in them were notoriously unreliable, and fancy weaponry could get you an unwanted amount of attention. Magic flew just under the radar, in the right way.

"Just a lot of positive thinking."

It's said so dry, a desert wouldn't tangle with it.

[burnburnburn]

His eyes remain narrow. A demon, not a Sorcerer. That's dangerous, but not necessarily in the malevolent way he feared.

"The Draconians thought they knew the rules until they destroyed their home. Don't let your arrogance make us meet the same end."

He backs up a step before turning around to head back to his table.

"And don't try any of your 'tricks' on me."

He really needs that vino.

[blackmagus]

Fortescue briefly considers informing him that her Blood magic only causes internal harm, to her soul (were it in its rightful place), and not external, but decides not to. Let him stew it over, or forget it entirely; she doesn't care which it is. But that temper's going to be fun, if it doesn't get him killed by someone else.

"You don't harm me, I don't harm you. Simple."

That's not the full extent of it — if he went on a rampage, she'd defend the others here — but that's what her personal philosophy boils down to. She's not under orders here. She's her own woman, for the first time in a while, and she intends to enjoy it as much as she can.