QM's Note: Trying something a little different this time — skipping the actual preparations and departure — to speed things up. Also, the xenforo update has changed the color palette available, so the different colors used for mana may be slightly off from what's usually used.
"So... is there really any reason we're considering Karse? A good one. One that won't get people hurt?" Sidhe eventually asks.
"There's always the stealth option?" you halfheartedly propose.
More importantly, you're about to fuse something to Nanoha's
soul. If there's even the slightest chance it'll be improved by taking a Gift from Karse, then you should take it, right?
"We've just been told Kal'enel might be able to point us toward a Gift in Karse. I think the only reason Vanyel isn't telling us to go to the plains is that he can't."
"A gift from the, um, significant other of a god of fire might also work, right?" Nanoha ventures.
"I mean, that's kinda..."
She trails off into an embarrassed silence, but not before you can complete the thought.
"I... maybe? She might be able to make a better version anyway, I guess."
You nod once and turn to Vanyel.
"Okay, is there any reason we shouldn't just go to the plains now? I mean, I'm low on mana, but it sounds like it's pretty safe?"
Vanyel flashes you a quick smile.
:For those without ill intentions, yes. You'll be fine.:
Little more than two hours later, much of which was spent locating and collecting the ferrets, you stare out at the long green grasses of the Dhorisha plains and fight the urge to check yourself for ticks. Yes, they probably couldn't even pierce your skin, but old habits die hard.
Behind you, Sigurd climbs out of the hemispherical personnel carrier and promptly falls flat on his face. A path of crushed grass traces the path Yuuno, Scrya, and Sachiko take on their way to the oversized wolf. The three spend the better part of two seconds sniffing at the fallen kyree before glancing at one another and swarming over Sigurd's body as one.
:I'll have you know that I am a dignified extraplanar with many redeeming qualities,: Sigurd grumbles, his face still squishing a collection of white flowers.
:And yet, here I am being lugged around like grain on a farmer's cart. Less forgiving spirits would smite you for this, you know.:
"Really?" you ask. From what you'd heard so far, it honestly sounded as though the gods had their acts together. Smiting people for casual offenses doesn't really fit into that.
Sigurd shrugs.
:Yeah, spirits of pride and whatnot. It'd probably be closer to some sort of minor curse than a full-fledged execution, though.:
The giant kyree struggles to his feet and lets out a long, toothy yawn.
:And now I have ticks,: he complains.
:This place was a lot nicer from outside minimum safe distance. Which is to say, looking in on it from another plane.:
You make a mental note to get him some sort of insect-repellant ointment later. He'd probably appreciate it. In the meantime, you look away and begin scanning the plains. It's significantly flatter than you'd expected; there
is the occasional small hill, tree, or bush breaking up the sea of flowers and grass, but for the most part? The plains seem unusually flat. At least you have a built-in compass: unless you're very much mistaken, the ground is slowly sloping toward the center of the plains. It's hard to tell, but you can't see any other reason you'd be able to see further in one direction than you can in the other.
"So, how long do you think it'll take for the Shin'a'in to find us?"
The stream of happy ferret
borks briefly stops, presumably as Sigurd forces himself upright.
:Now's good. Don't freak out, okay?:
Your brow furrows as you turn back to Sigurd. That turns out to have been a major mistake; as soon as you establish eye contact, his unusually blue orbs grow and envelop your consciousness inside pools of endless
Blue...
...But my shields were still up, weren't they...?
You return to coherent thought amid unfamiliar
White mists. You think the mist might be gold to your normal sight, but it's honestly hard for you to tell. A path of moonlight-silver sand shifts beneath your feet, but makes no sound when you experimentally grind it underfoot. Between that and how weird your body feels, you're pretty sure you aren't actually here. You have little confidence in your own abstract safety, though; if you're hurt here, it'll definitely do some damage elsewhere.
(Land Discovered: ??? [WWWRR])
We haven't even been on the plains for five minutes and he's already pulling this sort of thing?
"Sigurd! This is not okay!" you shout. No echoes of your voice return; after the initial sound, it might as well have been eaten by the mists.
A weathered sigh precedes the words of an equally worn voice. You violently startle, halt the motion, and make yourself turn around at a more sedate pace.
"Indeed. His kind often does this sort of thing, I'm afraid. They hear the wisdom of the world, but not its context. The result is not unlike a scholar reciting words they've never heard aloud: somewhat recognizable, but still unacceptable. Their obsession with the ideal of an unattainably perfect plan certainly doesn't help matters."
The source of the voice isn't quite what you'd expected. Gods are supposed to appear eternally youthful, but the withered old crone behind you is anything but. The only sign a stiff breeze won't topple her can be found in her eyes: twin orbs of black with small white pinpricks, two windows to a starry night sky.
Honestly, the effect is pretty creepy overall. You'd expected starry eyes to be prettier. Between the eyes, her bare feet, and the witch-black coloration of her robes, you wouldn't be outstandingly surprised if she snacks on unattended babies in her free time.
Maaaybe I shouldn't pursue sun-eyes after all.
"Jade Agni, called Princess, called Planeswalker, known to Us as a descendant of Sylvester Agni. You are expected, and you have questions."
Kal'enel tilts her head to one side and...
probably smiles? The mass of wrinkles comprising her face shift upward, at least.
"However, although this is the right place, it may not be the right time. Would you prefer to be sent back for the time being? Your family has been quite upset by the young wolf's decisions; one more voice in the chorus may yet help the lesson stick."
This time, you're sure Kal'enel's expression acquires hints of mischief odd in one so elderly.
"Of course, the young mind-mage will always need more practice with cooperative targets who nonetheless wish to keep secrets. No time like the present, don't you think?"
[] Immediately return so you can chew out Sigurd.
-[] That was REALLY not OK. Even if there are constraints on what he can tell you about, would it have killed him to say "Hey, I can speed things up, but it might be a little weird"?
[] You're already here and you can always lecture Sigurd later. For now, you might as well just save everyone some time and ask your questions.
-[] Could she point you toward a suitable mage-Gift? You'd like to do something similar to what Sylvester did for your family, only not half as extreme.
-[] Did she know Sylvester or is She just doing a seer-knowledge thing?
-[] How did Sigurd bypass your shields like that? Vulnerability to freaky hypnotic eye-powers seems like a pretty big security problem.
[] Write-in
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