Fleo Plector -=- Jeremy's Pancakes House
“Hah!” Fleo panted, now utterly out of breath but hyped enough for a hearty breakfast to make sure that her companion knew just how much he lost.
“Ya might be able to kill gods, but Sirocco was the first spell I learned! Like the element she controls, a Dust wizard tends to travel far and wide, at a dizzying pace.” She threw herself against the pancake shop's brick wall for support, chest heaving. Despite the exuberance coursing through her veins, Fleo couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness sting at her, a rogue gnat recalling sensations best forgotten. “Plus...I was really anxious to move around. You can guess why.” After a few seconds, the tawny-haired girl forced herself to perk up.
“Wow, what a downer! Here we are at the font of syrupy goodness, and I'm bringing up the dead past! Let's head on in.” She wasted no time in doing so.
She wasted so little time, in fact, that she almost conked heads with Felix. Clearly set on her priorities, Fleo silently bemoaned her mediocre height—even sixteen-year-old kids just out of their growth spurts stood as tall as she, if not taller. After only a couple seconds standing still as a statue, lost in her thoughts, Fleo managed to salvage the situation.
“Felix! Sorry if I kept ya waiting. There were...issues. Head off if you need to, don't let me hold ya back any longer.”With a farewell smile to tide him over, she stepped aside to let the young mage pass, dusting off her burnt-orange coat as she did. The last thing any patron of this cluttered, cheerful restaurant needed was a topping of earthy goodness on their breakfast. After casting a look back toward Nolan -she couldn't help but remain cautious around him, even after telling him her secret, probably because of exactly that- before seating herself at a table for two near the window. A menu, waiting candidly on the furniture's surface, attempted to keep itself firmly anchored by way of slippery edges, but its slickness couldn't keep an eager, hungry sorceress at bay for long. She scooped it up, flicked it open, and began to scan the list of items.
“Croissants? Are you serious?”A garcon materialized near the table. He didn't just walk up swiftly and stealthily, which in itself would have been impressive given his girth; he literally came into being. Never a big fan of surprises, Fleo nearly rocketed out of her chair. The menu clattered to the floor, but as the garcon stiffly bent over to retrieve it, Fleo piped up,
“Sorry! Let me get that for you.” A pillar of dust formed beneath the menu, lifting it into the air and foiling its slippery edges once and for all. Fleo plucked it from the dust and set it on the table.
“Just startled me, is all. Was that teleporation magic?”“Yes ma'am,” the garcon replied in a slight northeastern accent. “But no, I'm not with any guild. I get asked that a lot. Can I take your order?”
Realizing that she hadn't yet decided, Fleo took the opportunity to point out Nolan.
“Um, take his first.”-=-=-
Nero -=- Mayford Inn
“Here we are.”As hotels went, Nero had to say this one failed to impress. Maybe he didn't like oak, or maybe its facade stood too sheer, but on the whole the building screamed mediocre. When it came to granting wishes, however, he did not discriminate on taste in inns. Not everyone had the luxury of being able to sleep everywhere. Treating the other members of his little group with his typical closed-mouth smile, Nero followed them inside.
While Statloff had showed them the way here, Ginger instinctively fell into the lead now that crunch time approached. She passed by the front desk without halting or so much as looking, and while it seemed for a moment that the attendant was going to inquire about the odd procession in her establishment, the aura of vague hostility emanated by the group dissuaded her. Not for the first time, Nero wondered what wish he was granting, but in the end he didn't care so much. As long as it made someone happy, it was worth it. Ginger, with her porkpie hat, expensive coat, and chocolate-hued dress, seemed every inch a woman used to getting her way, one that a gentleman would want to please. No doubt that's what she saw in him.
Nero's ruminations came to a grinding halt as the woman in question pulled open a door and ushered the group inside. The bespectacled lad found himself in a miniature gymnasium, complete with workout equipment, lacrima-enchanted treadmills, weights, and only two people using them. The couple working out, a man and a woman whose awful but identical orange-and-brown tanktops could only have meant their unity, looked up from their exercise to see the new arrivals and instantly froze. A few silent moments passed, the man staring at each person's face with a mixture of fear and defiance on his own, while his partner seemed more confused than anything.
Since dramatic tension ranked low on the list of Nero's favorite conversational quirks, he determined to put an end to it.
“Good morning!” He cried, gathering the attention of everyone at once.
“I hear there's some sort of special thingie that needs doing.”The seated man stood and spoke in a low, serious voice.
“Ginger, I know why you're doing this, but listen to me. We've argued, but it's not worth whatever you brought...” he gestured to Nero, who waved good-naturedly.
“...him for. Can we just talk about this?”Ginger gazed at him as she might a clod of pond scum.
“Talking's what got you into this, York my dear. What was it you said? You called my girlfriend...hmm, a whore.” That luxuriant tone came quicker now, no longer sticky, drippy molasses but sand, threatening to cascade down and bury the man alive. Nero's smile, meanwhile, now showed his teeth.
The man held his hands up in a gesture of placation.
“I don't deny it. But I said it because she is, not because of her...orientation. I know we've had a rivalry for a long time now, but I'm not out to get you because of who you are.” His tone was beginning to rise, just as Ginger's fury was beginning to break. Her cheeks quivered as he continued shakily,
“You've got to understand, I'm trying to help--”“No, you understand!” No trace of humor, or kindliness, or rationality shone in her nut-brown eyes as she shouted, shaking the wooden walls. Nero watched intently. Free, however, stared at the ground, while Trip seemed bored if anything.
What is she waiting for? Nero wondered, glancing around at the assembled people. He found the features of Ginger and York, surprisingly, to be the most interesting.
Oh, of course, he realized, as Ginger began again.
“I don't need your help. I'm not 'attention-starved' or 'abandoning my judgment' or anything you've said. You've been the one judging, hon, ever since we were kids. You never approved of the choices I've made, and now you're taking it out on my sweetie! Well, it's about time you felt the same way. Nero!”“Yes, crazy bitch?”The behatted woman didn't seem to hear his words, only his voice as the confirmation of his presence.
“Two months ago, York asked that woman,” she pointed a finger at the black-haired lady still seated on a piece of gym equipment, who remained motionless.
“To be his wife. He said 'I want this to be the biggest thing that's ever happened to us'. Nero the Genie, grant his wish.”Still wearing his eternal vestige of contentment, Nero pulled off his glasses and started to polish them. His eyes were open, which wasn't usual for him. As he cleaned, Trip and Statloff moved around to the windows, drawing closed the drapes, and a metallic click announced that Free had locked the door. Finally, Nero donned his spectacles, and examined the faces of both the accused and the accuser.
“Seems a bit petty, don't you think?”Ginger raised an eyebrow. Her hand slid toward a coat pocket. Seeing her so serious about her revenge made Nero laugh out loud.
“Alrighty then! First order, Law of Escalation!”His voice resounded with a hum of energy, but no magical circles appeared in the air. For a moment it appeared that nothing happened, but since Nero kept his gaze on York's fiancée, the others did as well. Quite suddenly, the woman gasped, and her body started to swell. Her belly grew at an an alarming rate, pushing out over her pants and spilling into her lap. Her hips doubled in width, ripping her sweatpants in several places. Thrown off balance by the dramatic change in center of gravity, the woman toppled to the floor, a jiggling mass of fat barely contained by her clothes. York stared in shock, Trip broke out into snorty laughter, and Ginger leered smugly, but the show wasn't over.
“And for today only, two for the price of one!” Nero sang.
“Law of Escalation.”Just as quickly as his fiancée grew, York began to shrink. In no time at all, he had been reduced to a dwarf, complete with stubby arms and legs. Nero expected that he was a fourth the size of his bride-to-be, if that. The man sank to his knees, devastated and speechless at the unfairness of it all.
The laughter continued, and Nero watched the expressions on the faces of those in his group. Even Statloff permitted himself a little humor to see York's fiancée struggling on the ground.
“Man, I sure do love being petty. Doing terrible things to people I don't really know with poor reasons or no reasons at all. It's just so...damn...funny.” Nobody paid him any attention, but if they had, they would have heard a dangerous twinge in his upbeat voice.
“I summon the power.”Trip's laugh transformed into a sharp, fearful inhalation as she found herself suddenly being encased in cloth. No—she
was cloth, her entire body rapidly becoming limp fabric stitched together into the shape of a doll. Her scream was snuffed out as the curse overtook her head, and the shrinking doll fell to the floor. Over in the corner, Statloff retched, suddenly overcome by dizziness and nausea, and he plummeted face-first into his own mess. Free saw this and started to yell, but his cry turned into a quack mid-way, and in a burst of black-and-white feathers the boy became a penguin.
Ginger whirled around, seemingly shocked that someone would betray her righteous cause.
“Nero...?” She said uncertainly, her eyes flickering around the room. York's despair had become grim satisfaction.
“What are you...we didn't ask for this!”As she dreaded, she received a hearty guffaw from the dark mage. She shrank back as his mocking voice beat against her like waves on the beach.
“You really, really did ask for it. Total stranger, bad reputation, playing like a pawn, meting out misguided justice? Asking for me was asking for trouble! Didn't you ever read the old myths about genies? I don't give my left kidney who's guilty. But, uh, these curses aren't gonna cast themselves. I wonder what you are, deep down...? Besides the blood and guts, I mean. Let's find out!”-=-=-
One minute later, a full-grown female manticore, eyes alight with mad rage, smashed through the front door of Mayford inn. Spikes shot from her tail and stuck into asphalt, concrete, wood, and metal alike, though mercifully no townsfolk were hit. They scattered the scene, but any who stayed would have seen a strange sight: chasing after the manticore from the ruined entrance to the inn was a strangely-dressed young man in a porkpie hat with a penguin tucked under one arm. He seemed to be enjoying the whole, weird ordeal immensely.
“Law of Embodiment!” He called hopefully, but a crate of tomatoes turned to stone rather than the manticore.
“Crap! The Law of Raiment!” A sombrero blinked into existence over the manticore's eyes, but lack of vision only made the beast madder. More spikes shot into nearby buildings, one of them very nearly impaling Nero's foot. This was going to be interesting.
