In transit…
Zeah’s words have lifted her spirits. Knowing Eijanna was dead on arrival is still tragic… but the pain of wondering whether the plant monster delayed her from saving a life is gone. And if her friends can forgive me, there’s no sense in beating myself up.
After hours of silent contemplation, she realizes that a death like that isn’t something you just ‘get over.’ Desna smiles… so how does Shelyn deal with this? The answer is obvious—through her art. She takes her banjo off her back in an otherwise quiet moment, and says mostly to the Reclaimers, “This is for Eijanna.”
She begins to play an instrumental…
Perform, Banjo:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (18) + 15 = 33
…the strumming is rapid, intense. It’s a sound of excitement, an upbeat tune, and probably Sylva’s first composition in which the banjo is the appropriate instrument! Gunslingers on horseback could ride to this!
But the chords are intermittently odd—clearly not mistakes on Sylva’s part—she imagines the pain and fear Eijanna suffered as she rode, and this combined with the rhythm reflects the urgency of the ‘escape.’
The bridge is slower, single notes plucked as Sylva relives that moment of the dead half elf being laid in the snow—only the tune is not an expression of her own regret, but of the peace Eijanna’s spirit may have felt in the moment. Zeah said she was spared of being mutated into a killer plant, but Sylva believes that Eijanna rests in peace because her surviving friends were rescued.
And the tune builds up to from suspense to excitement, anger to hope, sorrow to joy…!
Upon arrival…
Sylva is happy to simply follow Ravenna’s lead with the goodbyes, adding a “Take care” to the Reclaimers, and just to Zeah, a simple “thanks again” for the kind words.
She takes a look around at the muddiness, and skeletons of fish that are about as big as a sprite. Shelyn says to find the beauty in everything, but… I’m gonna hafta try really hard in a place like this!
“Is the word you’re looking for ‘Angel?’” Femtite doesn’t know why Connie has a hard time with that word, but when it comes to Chastity’s sigil, there is no word. “Are the books you’re looking for a thesaurus and an English-Sigil Dictionary?”
For someone cracking dumb jokes, Femtite looks pretty worried. Not on the verge of panic, but definitely not hiding her concern well, if she’s even trying to.
“Okay, welllll, sooooo… you’ll hit the books, but then tell me, right? I mean, always being the last to know’s cool when it’s, y’know, stuff not deeply personal. Haha? Smoke monsters ripping my girlfriend’s arms off, I take personally. Y’know? There’s no I in Team, but there’s two I’s in Communication. And two I’s make a We, at least how Nintendo spells it.”
She wonders if Feya or Percy can give her a hint as she holds up the paper and points to the sigil next to Chastity’s name with wide, mismatched eyes.
w/ Theo
The girls are fascinated (and so are the adults)! “Enyo was awesome. I remember her four-motorcycle chariot!” Nissa talks about the car chase driving the truck of Superman’s dad.
Phineas says, “Superman’s adoptive father was the real hero of that story!”
“Nissa was when she took over the wheel, Dad!” Daphne insists.
“Actually I needed Mr. Kent to step on the gas for me,” Nissa confesses. “I couldn’t reach the pedal.
“But it was our first time fictionauting that we met Theo, right after his big party with the Olympian God of Wine…”
==========
w/ Unity “Huh? Oh. No, no… I was saying it went well. Theo cheered up Bridge, then he told the family about the Olympian gods, and I elaborated with retellings of adventures. The whole night got better and better. Only got weird once more when I mentioned—“
==========
w/ Theo “—I have a daughter!”
“But,” Phineas stammers, “you're gay.”
Milesandra elbows her husband in the ribs.
“Ouch, Dear.”
==========
w/ Unity “Overall it went well.”
Getting back to the more serious nature of the conversation, Nissa says, “I think the hard part is that people in my life, even Theo and L.C., have this hope that I can be back to my old self. I don’t just accept this change. I embrace it. This is me now, and even though I didn’t have a choice… I wouldn’t reverse this if I could.
“But you are right about my creator. She made me with love. You turned out to be wonderful despite your creator.” She then considers how everyone was gung ho about getting the bad guys. “Reatmas is mandatory. But it doesn’t mean we can’t ask L.C. and Ron to prep us for our next mission. The Deintegrationists are tied to PhDestruction, so… it’s time to go after him, isn’t it?”
w/ Theo
Nissa says, “Artemis’ nymphs worship in the nude.”
Bridge says, “Yeah, yeah, you met her. The Vixen wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Hanna says, “You mean Miss Lane.”
Daphne says, “They’re obviously—”
“Sisters!” her sisters blurt.
==========
w/ Unity “My sisters…” Nissa starts, and as glowing tears well in her dark little eyes, she goes on, “…my parents, my girlfriend. I was so worried about how they would feel. I think the bodily change was easier on me than on others.
“I cried the first time,” she admits. “Everyone was so big. And I thought I was ‘stuck’ with this little body. Then again, when I saved L.C. from the bomb, I was prepared for a permanent change… but Verve found a way to rescue me.
“So it was gradual, and in those final moments as a flesh-person… I was no longer afraid of my fire, even as it was about to kill me.”
She looks to the faces of Unity.
“I guess we both had to accept our realities gradually. And I don’t know about you, but it helps to have people around us that don’t treat us differently because of the way we look.
“And Theo as my dad—he’s amazing! I introduced him to my family yesterday. It went… well…”
==========
w/ Theo “Very well,” says Pee-air as he finishes taking orders. “Man-ya-feek!”
And having overheard Nissa talking to her sisters about the bath with Artemis, he says to her, “Then it is accurate? What the Atlanteans report of your habit to bathe in the sun oh natch-oh-rell?”
Nissa’s cheeks burn pinkish red. “Um. I guess so.”
“Might I ask you pour oon favor?” The waiter whips out a Nissa pin-up. “Your Zhahn Hancock, see voo play?”
“John what-cock?” Bridge asks.
“Who’s that dude?” asks Daphne.
Hanna sighs. “You’ll find out when you have Mr. Smith next year.”
Nissa wraps her arms and legs around the waiter’s pen, flying in little loops to sign her name. “Haha! Wow… this is really very different!”
Hi Pierre! Thanks for being a fan!
~The Bombshell
It isn’t until after she signs it that she pays attention to what the art actually depicts. It’s Nissa holding a cowgirl hat over her head, and her little fairy form is clad only in an open vest and the Daisy-Dukian equivalent of a jean skirt.
“Uh… that vest doesn’t make sense with the wings on my back,” she says—even though she can actually magical-girl on an outfit that isn’t backless without any impediment to her wings.
Obscenity Warning:
She just doesn’t want to address what she’s straddling. It’s like the Slim Pickens death scene from Dr. Strangelove. Except what cartoon-Nissa’s riding isn’t a bomb. It’s a pleasure device that has sort of a bomb shape.
Nissa’s sisters are too innocent to know what that is. And as it happens, so is Nissa! So Theo may not be (immediately) aware that she isn’t kidding when she says, “It’s cute! A little toy bomb—great spoof of a great movie. Still don’t quite understand my outfit though.” She had modeled lingerie. She was never shy about sexy poses and skin. But something about her likeness seemed off.
“Hahahaha, ha? I guess this is how I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.”
“Wee wee!” the waiter agrees.
The two little sisters giggle at the silly accent. Bridgette seems to be locked in a face-palm as the waiter walks away.
It appears Mr. and Mrs. van Donk are still in the washroom, and missed that exchange.
“A what name?” Nissa can’t unsee it now. “If that’s a professional name, not his family name… huh. I better not ask Bob what he did prior to becoming an agent.”
When the topic of names thankfully becomes cleaner, Nissa imagines Unity in a tux at a casino beating the law of averages every time while shaking, not stirring, his drink and saying, ‘The name is Unity, Charles Unity.’
Femtite keeps her power flowing, though her ability is limited. The trees are all Imagerie. Still, working alongside an Alliance hero and even giving her a tip on how best to use her powers is a pretty big deal to the pixite princess.
Having told Connie about her findings and having completed her task to get images of both the museum and the Refractalry, Femtite has freed her mind of tension and distraction. She focuses on the task at hand.
Of course, Bug-Eye is filming all this with Femtite and Imagerie side-by-side in some of the footage…
==========
When Percy returns…
Femtite smiles at her friend. “I knew you were the better dragon, P… Indy.”
Nissa floats close to the hand etching so Henri might easily see if it’s a match. She suspects his nanobot connection is more important than his fingerprints, but she doesn’t say anything.
The feel of being underwater and dry, not worried about drowning… it’s so strange and new to her! I need to find a way to do this all the time, like Charles!
She still thinks of her big friend as ‘Charles Wilde,’ zookeeper turned bestial. But that is no longer the case, or… it never was.
Unity, she reminds herself. You’re not the only one embracing the change. Embrace his too. Again, she corrects herself: Theirs.
As Henri makes his second attempt, Nissa re-magical-girls her outfit to a pleated skirt and a sweater with a big lightning-yellow ‘H.’ Her hands from sunshine pom poms as she cheers Henri on.
But she sees his saddened face. “Hey, most of those maneuvers were flawless. 4 out of 5! That’s how many dentists it takes to agree on the best toothpaste.” Nissa knows this because she’s been in two toothpaste commercials (for competing brands). She was deemed too ditzy-looking to play a dentist. Her role was to be the girl who smiles as her teeth go ping!
Femtite takes the La’Quesha poppet and lets the games begin! She recalls the zero-gravity fun.
“This is how the children were playing yesterday,” she says, moving with the doll in the same way the children can be seen on the looped video playing in the parked Bug—which anyone grabbing a popper can plainly see.
She goes on to tell DD, “It’s not so different from how I played as a little nymph! Pixites aren’t tethered to gravity, and so the fun of flying around was to do so in a fascinating place. The Amethyst Spike is effectively the Nanometeoric equivalent to Rustside—so when Mother and the other queens had tea there, the other princesses and I would play in the Star Dome. It’s similar to a mineral deposit. Of course with the Seers of the Spike blaming me for the end of the world, I won’t be revisiting the western hemisphere anytime soon.…”
Not So Different:2d6 + 3 ⇒ (5, 4) + 3 = 12 • tell of my world’s glory (childhood) - clearing hopeless
• tell of a flaw (turmoil/Armageddon) - add to team
“…so for now, this doll and I are going to speed-run a zero-G obstacle course. You should try it, though the anti-gravity area was only the middle of this place yesterday.”
Maeve perks up a little at the woman’s humor. “Femtite? A germophobe? She eats germs for breakfast!
“Oh… that’s so wrong referring to myself in third person. Sorry.”
The woman is generous and Maeve thinks of the homeless shelter. My personas are the princess and the pauper. She keeps this to herself, and takes in all of the aromas.
As for the feminine products, she just stares at the package. “Oh. But if my human body can ovulate… oh. Oh! Then maybe…”…my sister stayed on Earth because she mated with a human and bore his child!
Maeve finishes her sentence differently aloud: “…I would need to remain human for a full month before these would be necessary. But as you said, Ms. Tillison, better safe than sorry.”
She takes a breath. She sorts out what she needs. She puts away what she isn’t taking with her. And before leaving, she offers the dorm mom a hug.
“I know which friend I want to shop with. But thank you so much. I will hold my questions for now, and try not to think of all the…”…germs! Inside me!! Hundreds of billions of them, and that’s just the— She looks at the pads.
Then at Ms. Tillison.
She regains her composure. “You’d understand if you’d ever seen bacteria up close, Ms. Tillison. Good night.”
• • • • •
Maeve sleeps well, sets her alarm for 5:30 AM, and once awake, she adds another text to her previous conversation with Chastity.
Maeve: Top o’ the Morning to you!
Maeve: Can we shop after school?
She takes a long steamy shower. Her hair frizzes from not knowing what she’s doing.
Maeve will have 80s Big Hair, like the blondest Vixen.
Sylva offers her friend a smile. “It’s okay. I think for the mission, I would… y’know, chat it up. Nothing’ll… y’know.” Nox’s skill question seems like a good thing to answer.
Sylva hops to street level and says, “Oh, I can dance. But not without music. So yeah… guess I gotta provide that too.”
She has no instrument… but her voice.
I’ve got my share of secrets
And regrets
Let’s leave it
At that
She sways her hips, keeping eyes on her, twirling her way into the next stanza.
And act like nothing’s wrong
Just sing my stupid song
Dance down the street
While smiling sweet
At who I meet…
And pray she can’t see I’m a low life
Run away ’fore she sees
I ain’t no wife
-to-be
I’m gutter trash
When I bat my eye-lashes
Don’t you dare fall for me
’Cause those falls end in crashes…!
Perform:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
She ends her dance with a flourish—kick, curtsy, eyes meeting those of a female fey.
“Almost rhymed myself into a corner. Sylva Belle. New in town. Yourself?”
Femtite is shocked by Percy’s appearance, but he seems to be taking it well, and his words are strangely comforting. She listens to Shin—whom she now realizes is definitely not one to judge over a parent’s action.
When he permits her to take out her aggression on the bag, she starts, “I think aggression is the la—“
Then Connie bursts in.
And reacts.
And only talks to Percy…
Yes. Now is definitely not the time for aggression.
She watches Connie rummage, debating whether to say anything. Gimme a sec, she said. Femtite decides to give her all the secs she needs.
Grow Detatched:
Femtite feels she is out of the loop, and her teammates don’t take her seriously. It’s never been that big a deal, really, until Horizon proved how serious the problem is.Try to open up, even go so far as to point out flaws in the Lavender Spire, and BAMF! your mom’s compared to King Hitler the Eighth and your other mom’s unrequited fidelity is a tabloid scandal…!
_
Horizon loses influence over Femtite.
“Do you trust the leader?” currently defaults to “No.”
As Connie and the others are wrapping up whatever they won’t explain to the weird alien anyway, so why bother asking, Femtite is stewing in her Bug. She doesn’t even have a particularly hot outfit to wow Connie. She’ll wear her regular plaid skirt and sweater vest, with imitation Chucks and mismatched socks.
And… a smile. For Connie.
But she isn’t going to waste her face muscles smiling now, sitting by herself in her shrunken craft.
A curious fly taps at Love Bug, The with its proboscis.
”BUZZ OFF!!”
Femtite pounds in the Hadouken command and fireballs the fly to a crisp.
Ah, Paizo can tell VV and Ahto apart again. Sorry, Ahto! I think you should get a free level-up for every 100 inopportune natural 1s. You’d probably be 2 or 3 levels ahead of the party.
Femtite grows in plasma from from inside the cell phone, melting a one-inch hole in the screen cover.
”Only after you trick them into becoming chemically dependent on your supplement!
‘Keep them straight. Never mix the doses. This batch goes to Halcyon Prep. Panther Pride, as they say.’”
As she reaches human size, Femtite magical-girls some clothes on and appears more flesh than fire.
“Those are your words, Larry. And according to my research of your world, Larry is the name for a number two guy. Who’s your Moe?”
Provoke:2d6 + 3 ⇒ (4, 6) + 3 = 13
“Connie, you can lick the spoon first! I can get the microscopic bits that you miss. The human tongue can never lick a spoon clean!”
(She also hopes to consume a few germs, but doesn’t admit this aloud.)
When Caio needs heat, Fem provides. When asked to check the rice, Fem becomes subatomic and enters the rice cooker. She grows big enough that the rice grains are like a ball pit to her. Yay! This feels so good! She then subatomics her way out, grows human size and says, “The texture seems right to me!”
The Derby hears Crimson. “Hooking up! Great idea—like Marty McFly!”
She kicks out her Toe Cable at Chrome!
Freak(ing stupid idea):2d6 - 1 ⇒ (5, 1) - 1 = 5
She manages to balance on one skate about three seconds longer than onlookers may have expected.
What happens next might witnesses wonder which Bay Watchwoman is ‘Tumbler.’
”F~!~! OW! F#$!! AAAAAAH!!”
The Darling Derby is dragged fifty yards, then spins and flops as her Toe Cable mercifully snaps before a bone does! Her perfectly toned limbs are scraped raw and bloody, a gear-shaped button is missing from her overall shorts, and her glasses are slightly askew.
Angry.
Fast and furiously, DD remains in hot pursuit!
She calls to Tumbler, “Tempered glass! Step along the panes to be safe!” Last team for the REAL Tumbler
“I am Karana Wonapalei, meaning the girl with the long, dark hair. It is a funny name. All the girls in my tribe have long, dark hair. Maybe I was born long-haired.
”I do not know why this is just occurring to me now.”
Dropping the topic, she instead replies, “What temporary service do you have in mind, Mister Moonlight?”
Femtite comes out wearing a pink robe covered in sakura petals and sleeping Jigglypuff. She is bear from upper thigh down with colorful nails on fingers and toes.
“We all slept very well, Horizon!” There is a fire blanket spread on the floor in front of the sofa. There are pillows and regular blankets strewn about. She thinks about clarifying ‘this is not what it looks like,’ but she doesn’t.
She doesn’t eat a donut either. “If I eat one, my nails will be ruined.” This statement arguably needs for clarification than the unsaid not-a-threesome, but Femtite offers none.
“I will heat up some tea.”
It takes Femtite about seventeen seconds to gather cups, pour water, and spread a choice of tea bags on a matching saucer. A sunbeam from her palm instantly heats that water to slightly hotter than drinkable, so the tea will be pleasantly hot after steeping.
Femtite completes her landing. She just wants to hold Connie as she sees her emotion start to kick in. She’s panicking… why?
She quickly texts Percy, ☀️: Connie sends her apologies. She cannot visit you tonight. Then she turns to Connie.
“Oh, Connie… your mind saw every detail but the one a mind would miss. Yes, this human face is me. It is a combination of multiple ethnicities across the seven continents. It turns out the pretty scientist in Antarctica is of European descent, but still, my mother’s research was extensive. I didn’t choose this face, it chose me.
“The antenna could be fixed through shapeshifting. I started to heal myself, and I got to a place where the bent portions were strong so another bump would not cause a break. The reasons you stated—all true, plus one more that is not completely logical.
“I like the way my antenna bends. I knew I could heal it—and with effort, still can—but once I re-spiral that antenna I lose the bend forever. Shapeshifting is only fast because the forms are natural. I cannot add a third antenna or your face to my human body or re-break what is fixed. Maybe with much effort, this is possible… but not with the ease you have observed.”
In all the talking she wonders if her point was lost on Connie. She spells it out:
“I embrace this flaw.
“Please do not think this as a metaphor. It is simply a fact. I was five and able to self-heal and I chose not to. I wanted to tell you this ever since you saw my form, I was trying to think of how to tell you.
“I bring it up now because I think you may be able to relate to an extent. I don’t mean that whatever causes you pain is something you must embrace. I see the pain in you right now, Connie. The pain is from the past and the past cannot be changed.
“So I want to assure you, there is zero possibility I will be scared away if you decide to tell me whatever it is you’re afraid to tell me. I want to assure you, I don’t hold it against you that you’re reluctant to share… I was terrified you would think me an insect when I revealed my true form. I completely understand not sharing just like I completely understand the past cannot be changed.
“And Connie… if you let your emotion rest. Let your mind follow my words… you can see the logic in what I’m saying: whatever your past is, the good, the bad, the traumatic, this is the past that led to your present—our present. Had any event gone differently, you wouldn’t have been a teenage girl on her own, showing me your world, taking me in.”
She levels her eyes at Connie. She is completely serious, sincere, concerned. She takes each of Connie’s hands, gently.
“Please don’t feel like I’m forcing you to tell me what you’re not ready to say. Just see the logic. Disconnect your emotion and see the logic:
“Even your worst moment is on the timeline that brought us together. I could not possibly be scared away from that.”
Staccato enters the stable dressed as Jenny Lips, but down to magical-disguise underwear. The idea is for Byrin to believe more will come off… only it can’t, so the deceptive Leshy needs to make this work before it gets that far.
The keys are already taken, so it’s just a matter of him thinking he lost ‘em here?
She sits on a small stool, likely meant for milking. Her gnomish knees are pressed together. Her fingers tug lazily at the lacy trim of what little she has on.
When he enters, she says, “Thanks for coming, Byrin… that’s a thanks in advance, by the way.
“Lose the boots. Pants. Fold neatly. Leave the shorts on, for now. And the black socks. Hot. Unbutton the shirt… ooh, that chest hair will be my spaghetti… now, have a seat.”
She spreads her legs, then says, “A disappointing presentation, don’t ya think? And… no fun for me either. I want you to want this body like you’ve never wanted before.”
Stage face.
Jenny’s face,
with lips that suck the creamy filling clean from the eclair…
‘Jenny Lips’ kicks a leg up, rolls gracefully across the hay, and is on her feet, leaning forward, letting her cleavage work hypnosis on Byrin. She sings in a breathy tone,
You come to the bar at the end of a
Hard, hard day
From work that don’t pay
For what the jerks at work say
Anyway
The workday is over, so Byrin, let’s
C’mon out and play
End your day hard
With a roll in the hay
She sways closer, just out of reach, hands all over her smooth gnomish skin (where piano keys aren’t, she reminds herself)…
Ain’t nothing stranger than giving
Yourself to a stranger
In a strange home on the range
Or putting yourself in danger
I’m here and I’m ready and willingly
In harm’s way
Big thing’s coming my way
Let’s roll—
She stops abruptly.
Deception:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 “Is someone co—GUN!” She points to a shadowy corner. “Please don’t kill—Byrin!—save your—FUUUCK!”
She flees through the bars of an empty stall, which would slow a much-taller human. She hopes Byrin will leave his clothing and run off in his undies, but even if he does quickly grab his things, he’s sure to think his keys are buried in the hay, and about as easy to find as a needle.
Hotcha is saddened to see evidence of the death and destruction caused by Hao Jin’s powerful sorcery.
Yarrika’s daring outfit puts a smile on the fairy’s face. And she’s in a good mood, it seems! Hotcha flies down as the Solar Jian II is settling into its docking space.
“You look so…”Appropriate compliment…“…relaxed! But your team looks puzzled. Should we maybe put our heads together?”
Hotcha recalls a Cayden monk suggesting two bald monks to put their heads together to make an ass out of themselves. But she believes Three Men, a Fairy and Four Biting Roses will make an excellent combination… despite her inability to come up with a clever metaphorical wordplay.
“Thanks! It’s fun to speak in verse!
I’m not that good, but you’ve heard worse.”
I assume—rhymes with room—assumption implied, move on!
”Your presence makes me feel so bubbly,
And given fairies are so lovely
I just wonder why the
H-E-double-hockey sticks
Our school had an anti-fey…
B…E…double Pocky sticks.”
Her red corset complements her autumnul leafdo and matches the single rose grafted onto her birch scalp. And it exposes more of the bark on her breasts than it conceals.
Stage face.
Staccato struts onto the stage, heeled knee-highs clacking to turn heads her way. She takes her goldleaf hem delicately in her fingers and curtsies.
“This song is dedicated to the one I hate.”
She sways her hips to a staccato bass line played on the keys crafted into her forearm.
Don’t lie with me
I’m the piano player
The song-and-dancer
And the story-sayer
I’m like an onion
Once you peel my layers
Ya rather stick your nose
Another way
The leshy sits at the edge of the stage, crossing her left leg over her right. A thigh-high stocking from her knee-high boot conceals a compartment where a señorita pistol is holstered.
Her left thigh is bare. Her skirt falls back to expose a second keyboard, for the higher octaves.
Hey whatchya lookin’ at
Between my legs
Something explosive
As a powder keg
Will blast ya faster
Than you can beg
So avert your pervert eyes
Away
Staccato raises her left calf as she sings the bridge.
Burning temptation…
Aim for penetration…
I’m dreaming every night
And day
Of no one other
Than the man who killed my brother
So satisfied as I blow him
Away!
The music halts. Staccato brings both index fingers to her lips, as if blowing smoke from a gun.
She rises, slinking along the stage in an oddly seductive pose, tickling the keys on her thigh with both hands.
Don’t f$~@ with me
You better step aside
I ain’t your petting zoo
Or pony ride
Plenty o’ trees
With knotholes, outside
Ya don’t gotta pay
To play
Her right hand pulls off her skirt in one deft motion. She twirls and tosses it. Her left hand caresses every key on her body for the reprisal—
No vacation…
Fro’ my eternal…damnation
To dream every night
And day
Of nothing other
Than vengeance for my brother
Not that I know who killed him
Anyway!
She lets a low chord reverb… she bows. Not like a stage performer. Like a warrior nun.
Not that the men in the front row ogling her birch bosoms would think ‘nun.’
Karana is not crazy about this plan, but says, “If this is for our safety… I understand. But we should be careful voluntarily supporting the goblin’s wicked tastes. If we bring a fresh corpse without being asked, what will he demand of us next time?
“We might embolden the little monster, or he might have passersby murder to add to his collection of fresh corpses.”
All are wild guesses, she knows.
“I am simply saying, the goblin king is not harmlessly mad. He is an evil runt. We may kill him if capable, we may build puppets of dry bones and laugh it off… fresh corpses? I feel this is an unnecessary path littered with unintended consequences.”
Shin looks at Femtite, before speaking up. "I want to apologize for how I spoke to you last night. I was out of line. I know that you are trying your best and I know that it can be hard to adapt yourself, considering you're used to a microscopic way of life. I just don't want to see you become feared by the people you're trying to protect. Do you understand?"
Femtite nods.
She remains silent for a few seconds.
“Is this how humans talk to each other? Public shaming, private apology? In our last morning meeting, we spoke of level-headedness. I respected this quality in you.
My post got eaten this morning (not by Paizo, but my bad connection), so I rewrote. The spoiler scenes are unimportant but now that Rose has roommates I thought I’d show a typical night and morning.
The magical child’s transformation sequence is meant to be like Sailor Moon, music optionally included. I made Rose’s version less anime. It will normally happen off-camera as all spell preps do, but I wanted to narrate it once.
But my earlier post got eaten, so I narrated it twice.
Femtite hears the excuses, but she also picks up the direct answer…
“I also want more.
“I also want you to be the one I can tell things to. And… this is a thing. It is my biggest thing, and…”
She places her hand on Connie’s. It is very warm in the way that the teacup is very warm. Her skin’s soft golden glow is more of a peach color. If her usual aura were a trace of sunlight, her aura now is a scribble.
“…I can add to the list of complications. My mother is one of the five queens. I am a genetic anomaly. My first harem would surely be made of similarly aged princesses from the four corners of my world. ‘Sorry, I’m seeing an Earthling’ could have political ramifications.
“And yet… my mother approved when I told her my feelings for you.” Femtite’s hand heats. She quickly shrinks herself to the size of the Barbie she’s dressed as. If Connie keeps her hand steady, Femtite places her little hand on Connie’s fingernail, seemingly aware that like this, Connie can withstand the heat.
“There are obvious physiological differences. Simply phrased… anger is a controlled burn. Passion is wildfire. I would feel like the worst person in both your world and mine if we kissed and… you got burned.”
Femtite says, “I don’t want a harem. I don’t want a different Earth girl. I don’t want the societal expectations of my world or yours to stifle our feelings…”
Femtite grows back to human size, remaining seated on the countertop.
“…which you have confirmed are mutual.”
@Connie, shift Fem’s labels. Growing closer is my session-end.
Femtite heard that magic is the weakness of the mighty time-beast. She is not a magic user, but hurling fire looks like something from Indarius’ Magic the Gathering card game.
She turns to the monster, intent on consuming it as any microscopic pixite might consume a germ!
NIGHT . . .
Belle contemplates drinking with the men, but ultimately decides Tilly’s bedroll is best slept in by two sober women. She helps Tilly sort it out and says, “Sweet dreams.”
Belle appears to sleep soundly, but she intends to protect Tilly. If any creepy men disturb her, they won’t realize she has a hobbit ready for trouble!
(I mean, eventually Belle will doze off for real, but anyone tries funny stuff in the next hour or so…)
See you in-game soon! Or rather, the Great Tiff will. You’ll just see the bodies of the rest of us. Please not that Rose’s natural weapons look plantlike. Violet is the size of a Barbie doll, and has wings.
<No low volume grratitudes necessarry Frriend Femtite. ♬ Kindness is like sugar, it makes life taste a little sweeter♬.>
What the others had neither heard nor seen when Femtite walked away with a hair flip and sway of the hip—
Femtite’s furnace of a heart flared with excitement as the candroid sang a sweet song of kindness just for her. Machine or living creature, it doesn’t change the fact she is adorable.
“The Confectionist wasn’t all bad. He made you.” Comfort/Support CG:2d6 ⇒ (1, 6) = 7
The whisper is near-inaudible, but Candy Grrl surely heard Femtite loud and clear.
Lunk folds is other eight fingers one-by-one, indicating he’s asking his own questions before the magic of Hey Listen fades…
Lunk wonders,
#3. What is the safest route to the sparkle stick?
Q3:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32
#4. What is the safest route that the entire party can take, whether we walk, fly or take a conjured carriage?
Q4:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25
#5. Who is the ogre’s boss?
Q5:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21
#6. For what reason does he keep the sparkle stick?
Q6:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (1) + 15 = 16
#7. Can we destroy the sparkle stick be destroyed—(#8.) without taking an entire civilization with it?
Q7:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (8) + 15 = 23 Q8 (counts as a follow-up):1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21
Answer Guy and Lunk wrote:
Do you think I’ll ever meet a girl like that?
Lunk sees a building of staggering grace and beauty. The magnificent structure soars more than 1000 feet upwards, its buttresses and supports leading from one pinnacle to another, making it a distinctive focal point in Sigil’s skyline. The Civic Festhall, amid the hordes of jugglers, singers, dancers, and other performers is a single cute woman who looks suspiciously like Kid Artemis, wearing the badge of a sensate. At a second glance she is clearly not Kid Artemis, but could be a sister or cousin.
#9. About that cute sensate who made the juggler drop his ball, what’s her name?
Q9:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32
#10. Is she… nawww, I can’t ask that.
Q10 (rolling anyway):1d20 + 15 ⇒ (16) + 15 = 31
As Max and Candy Grrl help her get things under control, suddenly there is wind! And once that blows over…
Femtite taps on the claw marks on the hood of her car. Not wanting to escalate Ciao, she says to Horizon, “You see this? This can be repaired. You know what cannot be? Trust.
“I hope this is the only time I need to rescue Connie from a so-called teammate. She’s right—there’s no Both Sidesing this. She was attacked verbally, then when she retaliated verbally, she was attacked physically. That is not a biased opinion because she’s my roommate. That is fact.
“But I know better than to overstep, so as team leader, I’ll let you address this in your Earthly way. As Connie’s roommate, and one who’s permitted to enter a Ladies’ Room, I will check on Connie.”
She doesn’t even look at Max or Ciao as she shrinks her vehicle to a heart pendant. She does smile at Candy Grrl as she walks past. “Thanks,” she whispers. Her glowing eyes linger on the colorful candium plating before she tosses her hair and exits.
* * *
Comfort Connie:2d6 ⇒ (4, 3) = 7 Yay!
Femtite slowly approaches, “Connie… I am so sorry that… that happened. I don’t understand any of this. You were brilliant—you stoped the bad guy and…
“I’m surprised at Max. Less so at Ciao, except I thought he was all bark and…” She stops herself from saying the word ‘bite.’
“I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want to talk about anyone but us… I wasn’t fast enough, but I hope you saw I tried to protect you. I hope you can trust me to be a loyal friend.”
Molten gold trickles down both cheeks as Femtite’s eyes meet Connie’s. Her arms are stiffly by her side like a soldier awaiting a reprimand.
