Better not linger in her starting place too much longer. Yellow's faster than her and may have already come home to a wreck. Thorn might have a habit of checking up on the place, even, just in case. She's invisible, inaudible, unsmellable - that won't help if he sends someone thorough. Or comes in person.
She sets out.
She's been flying for about thirty minutes after her shopping trip when she falls through a tear and squeaks inaudibly and lands in the middle of -
Promise can make finer-grained maps if they're getting that close. And three-dimensional maps.
(Armsmaster is likely to lose track of the fact that time has a habit of moving. If Promise needs to sleep or anything, she may need to remind him.)
Physical needs are inconvenient. But when she turns down their offer of advanced stimulants they are capable of acknowledging that decision. They'll be back the next day.
And Promise curls up on the bed she was supplied, with her bag under her arm and a ward around her and it both.
They leave a cell phone and instructions for whenever she wants to continue. They never did ask how much down time fairies prefer, and for that matter Armsmaster has more or less forgotten how much humans who aren't him do.
Well, Promise sleeps for about eight hours and then tests her gate and nibbles on her food and calls.
And they are. The current version of the device looks much neater than it was last night, as well as more portable. Technically wearable, but the power armor is helping with that. "First thing, can you check that we didn't go too wrong and it still works in here?"
It works as expected. Then Armsmaster touches a switch and the fairylight gets shredded. "That was the easy part. And outside?"
Fairylight. At least for longer than a few seconds. After a minute or so, "Can you try something more complicated?"
She disappears—not according to his vibration sensors, Armsmaster notes, though maybe she has something else for that—and a few minutes later the machine starts smoking. Promise reappears and the light stops.
"No. But it means the problem was with building it, not designing it. Should be easier to fix." As he and Dragon resume working on it, Armsmaster asks, "How does your translation work? I was almost expecting the phone call to come through as gibberish."
"I don't really know. I just talk, and people can understand me when I talk, and I can understand them, and it seems strange that mortals do it any other way. As though you've invented an elaborate code or something. But how it works I couldn't tell you."
To Dragon, in addition to translating, he adds I doubt it's a distance limitation. Do you have any guesses at what went wrong to stop you from understanding her?
"I don't change how I'm talking depending on who I'm talking to. All this applies to writing, too."
What's the guess?
It's not completely unthinkable; maybe it could be meaningfully different from a phone if Dragon is reading real-time transcriptions of what her suit hears. But he can't think of any non-strange explanations.
I'll whip up something to test it. The translation helps.
Is it an equipment issue?
"I am, in fact, talking, for a real period of time," Promise says. "I have no idea what it sounds like to you, but so far in my life I haven't run into anyone who thinks I'm done talking before or after I really am."