774/A Talk About...

A Talk About...
Date of Scene:	09 October 2014
Location:	Earth-7207
Synopsis:	Amalthea has been remiss in keeping up with her students, and now takes time to catch up with Ainsley.
Cast of Characters:	151, 395

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Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Amalthea wants to talk to Ainsley. But the talk isn't something Ainsley initiates. Instead, Ainsley has gone full-on studying blood mage and picked a nexus of dark mana to set up shop so that she could study what blood magic really is. The lizard girl is located in an old prison building from before the disaster that destroyed her world. The prison is in the United States in the middle of nowhere, somehow still standing even after centuries of overgrowth has taken over around it. The angry jungle doesn't enroach on the barren ground of the prison. It's like it's frozen in time.

    Ainsley is sitting in the Prison Yard in a lawn chair, in black robes, sipping from a cup of tea. A circle is drawn around a cage, the cage is around a zombie that she grabbed from the nearby jungles in the shape of some hapless pre-disaster construction worker, barely recognizable but enough to be an unsettling reminder of what was lost. She has a table covered in books and jars that are meant to assist with her studies. Ingredients for rituals and experimentations to get a feel for the nature of her magic. There's also a potted plant, a single glowing blue flower that shimmers there.

    An old boombox plays a tinny classical song over the yard, filling the area with a comforting ambient noise where there wouldn't otherwise be any.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    All it takes to disturb the peace is a single finger. One small act can cause ripples one place, leading to tidal waves elsewhere. And tonight, with one simple act of a button press...
    Amalthea shuts off the boombox.
    Her arrival was silent. She wasn't trying to be stealthy, she just made almost no noise in coming. She's not in her armor tonight, wearing only an old pair of jean cutoffs, as she flops down on her bottom on the grass, tail swishing out of the way as she does.
    For a moment, the unicorn eyes the undead trapped within the confines of the bars, daring so much as to reach out and touch the metal as if testing it. Before casting that lone eye on the reagents and components set nearby, before looking to the chronicler.
    "So."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley turns her head when the sound fades. Her eyes focus on Amalthea, the sky blue that replaced the deep red fixated on her teacher for a second. Once she determines who turned off her soothing music, she sits up, adjusting the lawn chair so she can have a proper conversation. The metal, Amalthea would find, is not made of iron, or if it is, it's not in an appreciable enough amount to do any harm to her. Too muddled as an alloy. Definitely a good thing.
    "I've been studying purification spells. Once I figure it out, my first test is to dispel this dark mana nexus," she tells Amalthea, motioning around them to the prison in general. "You wanted to speak to me...?" she asks, smiling at Amalthea in a tired but patient manner. That kind of exhaustion that is more in the soul than in the body, like the Multiverse had been kicking her particularly hard.
    She sips tea while she waits for Amalthea to speak up.

    Construction Steve groans and slumps against the bars, attracted to the smell of a unicorn. Clearly he wants to bite Amalthea but barely has any ability to move his arms, let alone attack her.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    The lack of iron means the unicorn takes a more firm grasp on the cage, giving the bars a testing rattle for sturdiness before she leaves it be, simply staring at the zombie within. Even if he did bite her, Steve would probably just lose teeth on her mithril hide.
    "Don't let me stop you then." She says, at first, to the dispelling. Her presence is probably not helping, due to the fact that flowers and life have a tendency to shoot up around her if she sits still in one place for too long. "I do." Added a slow breath later in regards to the need for a chat. It's a simple topic she begins with. Or is it?
    "How are you?"

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley finishes her tea, and gets up to a stand, stepping over to her table. She flips open a book and begins examining the contents, checking jars as if considering the recipe for a cake. The jars contain various kinds of enchanted blood, there's one full of bones, there's an intact dragon heart that looks like a piece of molten rock, and there's even a single white feather glowing and floating in the center of a jar, but not touching the sides.
    "Awful," she tells Amalthea. "Not sure what exactly it is that's made me feel so..." She shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not letting it stop me, but it doesn't change the fact that I feel like shit." She doesn't curse a lot, as a general rule. It makes it mean more when she feels that negative. "Do you know what it's like to have to watch a cute little bunnydog girl turn into a monster that can't be saved, and know that her best friend won't ever see her again? For goodness sake, Mimigas subsist entirely on /colorful flowers/. And the person using them as a weapon? I've never felt more justified in wishing for the death of another living creature."
    She picks up one jar in particular, which she frowns at. She's not being agitated or aggressive, she seems focused. Her body seems tense, like someone who doesn't get enough sleep because they're determined to ace an exam. "And then there's what D went through, and the undead in Kingsmouth, and the pollution in this world, and Medusa's machinations, the Abstractum crisis, and Ivalice... the list goes on."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Like shit, huh?
    Now that gets a brow raise. Indeed, the flavorful language is not something Amalthea normally hears out of the lizard, and thusly her head cants to a slight and inquisitive angle. "That bad huh?" Of course with the various crises that the lizard-girl lists off, she does not seem surprised in the least.
    While Amalthea has not had a hand in any of them, nor been involved, she has been keeping tabs on the various reports of note distributed amid the Union's data files.
    "I do." Amalthea answers at length, in a very level tone. "I have seen a lot. And for as much joy as I have seen, I have seen even more horror and sorrow. Though it was not a cute bunnydog at the time. I have seen the shedding of innocent blood and weapons placed in the hands of the harmless to be thrown into a fray of blood and death as fodder." The unicorn is very solemn as she speaks, maintaining the endlessly deep stare of that lone eye, upon her student.
    "You are weary. It is not out of the ordinary. And you are trying to compensate for it by working yourself in exhausting research. Is my assessment correct? Correct me if I am wrong." Nevertheless she quiets again for a moment, turning her eye to the sky.
    "That is a very precarious path you are walking Ainsley. I tell you now, never wish death upon another, it is a terrible thing, even if it may or may not be deserved in some cases. Someday there may be one who wishes death upon you, and I tell you truth you will not like it." Ageless and immortal she may be, for a moment Amalthea just sounds so OLD as she says this. "I walked that path myself once. And it nearly destroyed me and all I loved. To this day, even when I draw my blade I do not wish DEATH on another, but only to mete out what justice I can. But I am old and a little biased. I might suggest sitting back and taking a small breath when most needed. Is that all that troubles you, or is there more?"

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    "I already understand that it must be approached without hate. I hate that man so much, but..."

    Ainsley gestures at the cage. "If I can render his plan useless... If I can dispel the corruption of the Mimigas, if I can find a /cure/, then I will have defeated him without cutting him. I will have fought in the name of hope and not hate. I have found that I can hate him all I want, what matters is what I do with it. And that fury... it leaves me feeling more empty if I give into it and simply strike down someone who is performing great evils. Like with the Conquistador."

    She has thought about this a lot.

    Then she turns to look at the cage. Her eyes focus on the undead thing. And she kicks the bars, rattling the structure. The undead creature inside actually recoils in fear of her, whatever force that exists behind her eyes something that instinct tells it to avoid. "'Become Death, only then will you know what the dark truly is.' It's a Quetzal lesson. I can infer what it means, but... it's not as easy to figure out as one might guess."

    Evidently taking a break really isn't on her radar right now.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It is when Ainsley kicks the cage and the ZOMBIE cringes that the unicorn rises, one hand setting on the lizard-girls shoulder. "I allow many things, but inspiring fear in a bound and captured creature, I will stop you there. Even if it is an undead." Nevertheless, it was more the kick that spurred her to move, because that hand tugs just a bit. Before the unicorn puts her arm over Ainsley's shoulder and looks into the cage with her. "Your desire is noble. I give you that much." She muses after a beat. "But. Yes."
    Yes?
    "That is a righteous fury, Ainsley. And I'm glad you're choosing to fight it this way. But I'm not sure becoming death is an easy nor palatable path to follow. Be careful what you take from that lesson, yes?" A squeeze and she lets go, before clapping her hands together once, rubbing palms. "Now... I had another matter I wanted to talk to you about."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley looks over at Amalthea, not quite understanding the apparent restraint the unicorn wants her to have toward a creature of the night. The lizard girl doesn't argue, though, smiling lightly and stepping away from the cage. She knows this husk that was once a man has no mind left to save, so she doesn't seem worried about spooking it. In fact, she's seen it more as a comfort that it wants to avoid her.
    "It isn't. I spoke to a Quetzal priest, briefly. They don't really... talk. He just stared at me until I felt too uneasy to speak anymore." She frowns at that much. It was not a fruitful conversation. "I know they figured it out, though. They power an entire city on blood magic. They just aren't... forthcoming about how that works." She rubs the back of her neck.

    "Another matter?" she prompts, looking at Amalthea with a bright curiosity.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    A rare display perhaps. But even Amalthea's wild and untamed heart has been known to display a measure of clemency and quarter. Though her head tilts once more on mention of the priest. "Secretive silence, or that brain-dead thousand yard stare kind of silence?" Idle curiosity there as she folds her hands together behind her head.
    "I spoke with Dex last night. So busy I've been that I realize I've been remiss in lessons for the both of you, and that I had utterly failed him as a teacher." She murmurs after a moment. "Unlike him however, I think I don't NEED to worry about being a little more hands off with you. But. I think it's about time. If not now then very soon." She begins.
    "Your sword. Have you come to a decision on what it shall be called, and the purpose for which you will use it for the rest of your life."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    "Wise silence. Like nothing I could say would garner an answer he felt suitable to give me." Ainsley furrows her brow. "The told me he was two hundred years old, too."

    With the idea of longevity out of the way, Ainsley looks over at Amalthea with raised brows, the idea of failing Dex getting some concern out of her... Then she shakes her head slowly, as if the idea only made her feel worse. Her gaze dropped to the floor, not raised by the assurance that she didn't need to be scrutinized to closely. However, Amalthea asks directly what the name of the blade should be. And so the lizard reaches over to the table and draws the blade out, scabbard left atop the table, considering the blade carefully.

    "Mercy," she tells Amalthea, without explaining it to her, feeling it would ruin the strength of its name. The word she used is actually Latin.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    It is another admission that is rare. But truthful and given freely. Amalthea is not perfect. She is old, knowledgable. Wise even, in some cases. But she is by no means completely infallible. She cannot be everywhere at once, and she can neglect things and people, in the worst cases. She failed Dex Alruin, and says it openly, and with a solemn, quiet shame.
    Thusly moving onto the blade though, her eye is turned upon the sword when Ainsley pulls it free from the scabbard to present it and its new name to her.
    "... Mercy." The unicorn repeats the old Latin word thoughtfully.
    Before she dips her head in a slow nod. "'Tis a good name. I hope that sword serves you well, because it is now your sword until the end of time."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    Ainsley smiles at the simple longsword. Then she stops smiling, because she knows what the name Mercy means when it comes to this weapon. It means a mercy that is the last resort, a mercy that she never wants to use. The mercy of death, the final peace. She places the blade back in its home scabbard, and lets out a gentle sigh. Then looks over to Amalthea. "I'm looking at houses with Faruja," she tells Amalthea, quite abrupt switching topic trains to something so mundane that it seems scarily out-of-place in this surreal setting.
    "I was thinking of a mage tower, but it's hard to find the appropriate leylines for that, and then how do we decorate it...? Most of the inside of a mage tower is stairs."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    A good name. Strong but... At the same time grim. Amalthea is still slowly nodding when the topic changes. Now that gets a sidelong glance. "Moving in together huh? 'm I invited to the wedding?" She teases with a jab of her elbow. More seriously though, she chuffs. "That's always good. Lest and I moved in together officially sometime around when Rampart gave us the manse. Before that she had her own place in Njorun, and I was living in Ravnica." She idly notes. "It's a huge step. I hope it works out for you."
    A mage tower though? "Well I can't judge. I live in a volcano. But I think there are architects who can give you a FEW good floors, without stairs taking up everything."

Ainsley (151) has posed:
    "Well, when I ask him to marry me, you'll be on the top of the list," Ainsley tells Amalthea directly, griiinning at her, because the topic has come up in her head and in conversation in the past, if not with the unicorn. "And..." She furrows her brow. "And it is a very strange relationship, now that I think about it, but at the same time not that strange at all." She isn't making sense but that's probably normal. She lets out another sigh and slumps into her lawn chair again.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Chuff!
    Something about that statement has the unicorn snickering, as Amalthea flops back onto the ground. "Man. I was gonna pop the question to Lest myself. Then she explained what the ribbon she gave me just a minute before meant, in her culture. She beat me by a few seconds." Snort. "But. Ours was pretty weird and awkward at first too. I guess all the good ones start out that way maybe. Either way I only wish the best for you."