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]

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.