Despite its ridiculous arsenal of overpowered spells, it had come to Bedlam's attention that it was woefully unpractised with them. Either it couldn't muster up enough power to make the magic happen in the first place, or it fumbled and lost control, and the spell would backfire spectacularly. It was not particularly fond of either outcome, but what could a poor catwhale do?

Well, practice made perfect and all that, right? If at first you don't succeed, try, try again?

So that's what it would be doing today, Bedlam decided. But one performed the best when one was hydrated, well-rested, and well-fed, so it would take care of that first. Two out of the three it had made sure of before coming here, and the last--and Bedlam thought itself very clever for thinking of this--couldn't the last be an opportunity to warm up on its magic?

Many green eyes blinked at the small banana that popped into existence before them. Not a promising start, was it? But it ate it nevertheless, delicately peeling the fruit with toes that were surprisingly nimble for their appearance. Then it tilted its head at the peel, considering.

No, not considering eating it. What was Bedlam, some taste bud-lacking beast that had no dignity nor ability to distinguish good and bad food?

It was, of course, considering a prank. Or what it thought of as a prank, at least. Delicately, it reached out a single green-skinned toe and pressed crackling magic into the peel. A fun surprise for whatever poor soul might happen to slip on it, or perhaps for a scavenging cave rat.

The spell came more easily to it that time. Who knows, maybe warming up with smaller spells is an actual magical theory? If it could be bothered, Bedlam might perhaps run a scientific experiment with itself as the test subject and researcher. Alternate which strategy it used each practice session: warm up with easier magic or save its strength for a powerful show at the beginning?

It couldn't.

It wasn't even sure it could be bothered to muster the focus to spend a second day practicing magic after this one, let alone the motivation to commit science. Please. It had a life.

Quite the idyllic life, in fact. Fishing and laying in the orb-light and floating in Leo's warm bay. Taking naps. You know.

The more it thought about it, the more impatient it was to get back to said idyllic life. It certainly didn't have the patience left to continue with the 'warming up' strategy. Straight to the flashy, noisy, dangerous, and awesome to look at new spell it was, then.

To an outsider, the catwhale might have looked rather severely constipated. It was concentrating on the knowledge of the new spell as hard as it could, but nothing was happening.

"ARRRRRGH," it grumbled as it finally gave up on the initial attempt. Had it gotten some technique wrong? It had been holding its breath and tensing its muscles. Maybe it needed to relax? The catwhale took several deep breaths. It remembered the odd, delirious freedom of feeling like it was turning into a drifting cloud of durian-flavored gas. (Never mind the unfortunate chain of events that had led up to that.) It imagined that it was a little white fish, drifting along in the water, coated by a layer of cool slime.

Was that calm and relaxing enough?

It tried again. ... nothing happened. Perhaps it was too relaxed for such a dramatic spell?