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Isibel lives in her enchanted village, in a hollowed and conveniently-shifting great tree. She travels from it frequently, when she has a new enchantment or elfspell designed that will help someone, or when she meets with the leaders of this or that culture to learn more about their needs, or when someone accepts her offer of torching. The population of Thilanushinyel is not as large as that of Origin, and it may even contain fewer political units, but certainly there are more species; she has a steep learning curve and she throws herself into it.
Today, she is at home. She is not in deep meditation, but she might look like it, eyes closed, floating crosslegged in the air, not paying attention to the weight of the clothes on her body or the wreath of sunny yellow-berried blue-leafed holly resting on her hair, just thinking about hurricanes and the most efficient way to prevent them from forming over the sea. (She can channel immense spells. She is not sure how immense, and it would be very dangerous to lose hold of one. She retains some concern for limiting the size of her enchantments.)
When she is busy with something she cannot interrupt, her door is locked. Today it is not. There were no hurricanes when she last checked, and if any form in the next few hours, she will be able to address them on the spot, she knows; this spell is not urgent on that scale.
If anyone needs her they may come in.
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small_magics
small_magics
"I don't know. And I should ask Liselen before I try it; Thilanushinyel magic can react oddly with the offworld kinds. But potentially."
"Well, keep it in mind," he says. "It would make a big difference if more Wildmages could heal unicorns easily."
small_magics
Isibel nods. "I would need to think about it for a while to try to design an enchantment to accomplish it, and I cannot afford to spend coins of that size on the project, but it will be worth doing if I can."
Lycaelon nods.
"It seems to be the kind of thing you were looking for," he says.
"It seems to be the kind of thing you were looking for," he says.
He grins. "There's more where that came from, believe me."
"It's about to get longer," Lycaelon predicts.
This turns out to be extremely true.
He has been a lot of places, and seen a lot of kinds of people, and healed many of them from injury or illness that would have killed them if he hadn't been there. And in between these events, he has spent a lot of time alone in various kinds of wilderness. He is personally familiar with every climate on the continent he calls home, from the Madiran Desert to the Lost Lands of the north.
After several hours of rambling discourse on the subject of people and their preferences and problems, he concludes an explanation of centaur architecture and stretches. "About time for me to hit the hay," he says. "We can pick this up tomorrow."
This turns out to be extremely true.
He has been a lot of places, and seen a lot of kinds of people, and healed many of them from injury or illness that would have killed them if he hadn't been there. And in between these events, he has spent a lot of time alone in various kinds of wilderness. He is personally familiar with every climate on the continent he calls home, from the Madiran Desert to the Lost Lands of the north.
After several hours of rambling discourse on the subject of people and their preferences and problems, he concludes an explanation of centaur architecture and stretches. "About time for me to hit the hay," he says. "We can pick this up tomorrow."
small_magics
"Very well," agrees Isibel, rising to her feet. "You can brainphone me when you are ready to talk more."
"Sounds good," he yawns.
wildlymagical
The next morning, about an hour after dawn, he brainphones her.
[G'morning.]
wildlymagical
Lycaelon opens it. "C'mon in," he says cheerfully. "I made tea. I didn't make it very well, but I made it."
wildlymagical
"Well, you're welcome to try it."
He sits down and picks up his own cup of tea, gesturing to where the teapot sits beside an empty cup.
He sits down and picks up his own cup of tea, gesturing to where the teapot sits beside an empty cup.
small_magics
"In the future you may find it improved by waiting a little longer after the water boils to pour it."
wildlymagical
"I'll remember that," says Lycaelon. "Thanks. Anyway, where were we? Centaurs?"
wildlymagical
"Right. After that is when I hiked up to the Lost Lands..."
And spent most of a year there, working both magically and physically to help life return to the mage-blasted ground. There are no thinking creatures in the Lost Lands anymore, although he says he found the ruins of several old villages - human, if he's any judge, and abandoned for hundreds of years at a bare minimum.
"It was the best time of my life. I want to go back someday," he says, smiling wistfully. "I know I'm probably more use as a healer, but clearing fouled springs and herding lost rainclouds with a mountain range between me and the nearest settlement suits me much better."
And spent most of a year there, working both magically and physically to help life return to the mage-blasted ground. There are no thinking creatures in the Lost Lands anymore, although he says he found the ruins of several old villages - human, if he's any judge, and abandoned for hundreds of years at a bare minimum.
"It was the best time of my life. I want to go back someday," he says, smiling wistfully. "I know I'm probably more use as a healer, but clearing fouled springs and herding lost rainclouds with a mountain range between me and the nearest settlement suits me much better."
small_magics
"Hopefully you will not find your time in this village too crowded for comfort."