ORIGIN - back at it

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Aethril was shaking her head. She had not, nor did she entirely plan on, asking her magic to work again. It simply did, or it didn't. "When something didn't do what we wanted it to," she said. "We'd just force it to."

Why did anyone ever rebel again?

"It might be a bit mean," Aethril went on. "But sometimes people don't realise the good we're trying to do for them. Many people see events as short-term, and don't think about how it might affect them much later in their life." Some people were just too stupid to think further than five minutes from now, but this titbit was kept quiet from Pollen.

She leant back and pat the spot in the grass next to her in a silent invitation, turning her attention instead back to the corrupted tree. Her hand-- the same hand that had just beckoned Pollen over --reached out with its fingers splayed and cold, violet-black lightning sprang from her palm.

It crashed into the tree with a furious roar; spraying oil with its very impact. It split the bark and the wood to infect the very inside of the trunk with black, turning the inside a pale purple. Smoke billowed into the cave ceiling, smoldering bark churning more and more out.

Aethril relaxed. "Sometimes you just have to keep trying," she concluded. "That's the point in practicing. You find a routine for yourself and you get better."

@Pollen

Forcing it didn't sound nice. She frowned momentarily, relaxing her grip once more as she let her digits tap on the young tree.

"What if they'd know what you didn't, and that's why they're kinda... eh, on doing something?" She looked between Aethril and the tree, thinking. "Maybe this tree has something inside of it that it doesn't want broken?" But, when Aethril patted the grass, Pollen made her way over to sit next to her.

She looked between the birch, then to Aethril's hand, and jumped when lightning crackled out of her. Ah! It was surprise more than anything, and she quickly calmed down when the tree began to become enveloped fully in corruption.

Pollen slumped, a little. She wanted to do something like that. She wanted to be strong like Aethril, to be able to master her magic, but she had plants. Could plants really do much? But, the more she thought about it, the more the idea of things like fire and electricity scared her- what if she messed those up? She could practice plants and mess them up a lot, but if she messed up electricity, she could shock herself. That wouldn't be very good.

And so, as Pollen sat with her legs outstretched, the little muta cupped her hands in the dirt and struggled to coax something out of hiding. Anything would do, really, and she watched as a small sprout breached through the earth and raise up above the grass.

It was a start, and Pollen breathed out a sigh of relief, her tail wagging behind her. It might not be as flashy as Aethril, but it was her magic. She was proud of that.

@Aethril

Aethril's head tilted. She hadn't actually considered the possibility that someone knew something she didn't that might change her actions, but regardless of that, "then they should tell me. It's my job to act out of best interest for everyone else, and if they're hiding vital information from me, then I can't help them correctly, can I?" It was at least, a genuine response-- but in the back of her mind, she knew she was likely inclined to ignore the protests of others. Pollen didn't have to know that.

The Hand watched Pollen do her magic. She could identify this spell as a simple one-- but simple was good. It was a good start. She folded one leg over the other and took a little breath.

Magic flared and then fizzled out, and Aethril was left furrowing her brow for a moment, head tilting one way and then the other. Her limbs were starting to ache already, but not enough where she felt the need to go home already.

Instead, she was nodding towards the sapling in Pollen's claws. "That's yours," she offered. "Try making it flower, or making it move. It'll be easier for you."

@Pollen

The question felt rhetorical, but still, Pollen pondered that. After a moment, she shook her head- no, that wouldn't make sense. But, "what do Hands do, anyways? Do they um- tell people what they should do?" She wagered a guess.

Pollen glanced up to Aethril, then back down to the plant, still holding her paws around it. No matter what Hands did, she wanted to do what gardeners did, and that was plant magic. Perhaps she should take a break- she was only a kid, after all, and she was just barely feeling the strain of casting a lot. She wanted to try, though, and so she focused down on the plant beneath her.

Flower. She could make it flower, and the magic flowed through her a bit stronger this time. It fell from her hands, focused on the subject, and the sprout curled up as it blossomed into a violet, teardrop-petalled flower. It worked! Pollen grinned, her tail thumping on the ground now as she looked up to Aethril, proud of her work. "What next?"

@Aethril

"We serve the Creator. We fulfill whatever tasks He might give to us," she said, idly pulling back the loose linen shirt. Her gemstone glinted in the faint voidlight, tucked between her breasts. It seemed out-of-place regardless, something artificial and hard stuck onto a soft body. "He gave me this."

She barely remembered it. The details were hazy; but she remembered holding the Oilstone in her hands before it attached itself to her body. She couldn't remember His face, or who else had been there-- just the stone and the sharp pain of it latching on.

With a sigh, she was tucking the low collar of her shirt back into place. "I was trapped here, you know," Aethril went on, nodding to the Palace. "I was meant to be assessed, but then the Rebellion started. I wasn't ever really given a task-- at least, not one that I can remember."

The Hand was distant, her voice softer than usual. Her only job now was making sure the rebellion was well and truly over-- until Dhracia or the Creator Himself gave her a direction to go in, she'd clean up the damn caves herself to make sure that everything could go back to normal.

Fingers splayed out on the ground for a moment. Magic sparked and then promptly backfired into her own hand with a hiss of pain, recoiling. Her palm, upon inspection, had a growth on it-- a writhing black spot in the very center.

She was still hissing a little when she spoke. "Whatever feels right, Pollen-Rose," her eyes darted the muta's way. "What would you do with a flower after it's bloomed?"

@Pollen

The Creator... Had he made her? But, the Masters made people, too, so was the Creator like... The creator of creators? When she glanced up to Aethril's Oilstone, she pulled the corners of her lips back briefly, glancing between it and her.

"Is He still alive..? Maybe he can give you a task, now." Her words were idle as she looked back down to the plant, trying to consider what to do next. Move it, maybe- make it grow a little more? See how it felt? Her grasp on magic was limited, but she still wanted to use it, practice it and make it her's.

Her ear flicked before she looked up with Aethril's hiss, briefly startled. Had magic- backfired, as she'd explained? Pollen frowned briefly before looking back down, feeling as though backfired spells was something more private than what she should see. No, she'll focus on the plant.

"Um- usually, I water it, but..." She didn't have a watering can, that was obvious. Faux-eyebrows furrowing, Pollen gingerly touched a petal with a claw and pulsed her magic into it. It latched on, draining her, curling up taller and growing as more flower-sprouts curled up as its neighbors.

There was nearly a small field in her lap, soon, and she gasped out as she let go of the spell. It was exhausting, but--

When she pulled back, she could do nothing but feel so proud. "I've never done that before," she mumbled, drifting her paw over the various flowers. How wonderful! Even if it was just flowers, this was great! She could do this spell on something else, maybe, or she could learn to make use of it.

Pollen wormed her fingers to the base of one flower and snipped it off at the base, offering the plant up to Aethril with a wide grin.

@Aethril

She nodded. "I'd be very surprised if He'd perished, somehow. Vargas said that Dhracia was still around and she serves Him quite closely." Aethril hesitated, brow furrowing a little. She couldn't... remember how to contact him. "If He needs me, He'll summon me. I have my own agenda right now regardless-- get training, find the rebels, get rid of them."

The Hand was watching Pollen cast, watching the flower grow more and more neighbours. Her lips quirked upwards as she took the offered flower and spun it between her fingers, before settling it down behind one ear.

Then, she was picking herself back up again. She stretched out and took a breath. "Don't get too close," she warned gently before touching back with His magic, feeling it flare up in her chest. A vacuum was opened, rancid air sucking into it. It was small and far enough to spare herself and Pollen from the loss of pressure, but strong enough that it brought the sensation of hard winds rushing by.

It lasted some fifteen seconds-- as long as she could hold it for --before the winds died down and was replaced with the cooling breeze lazily rolling throughout Cepheus. Aethril was left breathing hard, catching her breath.

She ruffled herself out, bird-like, and straightened again.

@Pollen

If someone was serving Him closely, then it wouldn't be hard for Him to contact her, then. Pollen's eyes lingered on Aethril when she mentioned getting rid of rebels, and slowly the muta exhaled as she looked back down to her flowers.

She wanted to do more than just flowers, but this is what her magic did. How could she learn to do all the things Aethril did? One claw worried at the snipped end of the flower before she spoke again, air changing around her.

Pollen stiffened, waiting. How much magic did Aethril know? What couldn't she do? When she looked up to watch Aethril concentrating, she was struck by a sense of awe- this person that she looked up to, the person who cared for her in return- she was strong.

Pollen wanted to be just like her.

She glanced back down to her plants, then, when the winds calmed. She wanted to do winds, wanted to do mind, manipulate the light- but she could do plants, for now. She needed to focus on this. Clicking her teeth together, Pollen snipped another flower off and lifted it to her ear, willing it to latch on in mirroring fashion to Aethril's tucked plant. Roots grew to meet it, and it nestled in, looking as though the flower itself was nestled much like a clip.

But, what else could she do? Pollen huffed gently, tapping her digits together. "Can plants help get rid of rebels?" Her voice was quiet and uncertain, but she looked up to Aethril without moving her head. She wanted to be useful and do something that only she could do for Aethril. If that meant helping find rebels, she'd gladly jump on that in a heartbeat.

@Aethril

"Sure," Aethril said a little enthusiastically. She half-turned towards Pollen and looked her up and down for a moment before contuining. "I can move plants-- you can give it a try. You can make them trip someone up when they try to run, or wrap it around them to stop them from moving and hurting other people."

She turned back, eyes scanning the area. Her eye caught leafy vines crawling up the side of a tree and in an instant His magic was corrupting them from the very roots up and they twitched to life. Under Aethril's command they unlatched from the bark and writhed like eels.

"It just takes a bit of practice," she explained, in a patient tone that would usually be used by teachers with a difficult pupil. The blackened, oil-slick vine settled across the footpath and then tilted subtly upwards. "This is good for ambushes," the Hand was going on. "Most people don't tend to look where they walk-- so they'll never see it coming if you set some roots or vines like this. They'll trip over and we can take care of them before they hurt anyone else."

And then it was lifting and lifting up high, the very tip of the vine on par with the tops of the trees. "Or you can grab them and hold them all the way up here-- but you'd have to be careful, if they were magic-users."

Her eyes met Pollen's. "Do you want to try?"

@Pollen

Aethril's optimism was greeted with a split second of skepticism- but, it seemed what she'd said made her happy. Then, it could work? Pollen leaned forward over her flowers, listening to her talk. Moving plants- she could do that, she could... Set up traps? "What if I'm somewhere that doesn't have plants?" she asked, looking at the example. She could make her own plants, maybe, but that'd take a long time.

A few ideas came to her head: she could make plant walls, or she could use herself to carry plants, whipping them out with vines and her controlling magic. That would catch them, right? As she wondered, she laid eyes on another vine across from Aethril's own example, and reached her magic out into it.

This one sputtered to life- it was thinner than Aethril's, but it had worn its way up the tree, and Pollen lifted her hand to help guide it from a distance. It reared back, and she tensed, waving her wrist slowly to watch it move.

And, like a bullet from a gun, it whipped around Aethril's own vine with the whistle of a whip and a stinging smack. It curled about that corrupted vine, pulled it back towards the tree Pollen's smaller plant came from, and tugged it down.

Pollen, meanwhile, panted. It was a lot of magic, and she was straining herself focusing, little beads of sweat rising beneath the fur of her temple. She did it, though, and she looked back to Aethril as she still clenched her fist, mimicking her vine's hold on Aethril's. "Like-" she huffed. "Like that?"

@Aethril

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