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Finnah's just arrived at work to open the store for the morning shift; she has her apron on but hasn't put her hair up yet. She lets in the customer who always takes half an angle to determine that he wants four buttercreams, again, and then nips into the back to tend to her hair and check the overnight progress of the rock candy.
This isn't the back.
But that -
No, he's too tall to be Mial, if this is a Mial prank it's a stupidly elaborate one.
"Okay, I give up," she says, "what the hell?"
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on-my-word
He goes over to the Mial hugpile.
"I don't know what to say... I wish you could just have the damn word," he says. "You more than deserve it."
"I don't know what to say... I wish you could just have the damn word," he says. "You more than deserve it."
"Look," says Finnah, "are there or are there not bloody miracle-workers running around on our planet?"
on-my-word
"There are," says Avar, encouraging this line of reasoning since Mial doesn't seem to be up to words of any kind just now. "You've met some, I believe."
"And they left a communication crystal. It is very premature to be a weepy lump."
thisvorlunatic
"It caught me off-guard," says Mial, slightly muffled by hug. "I wasn't thinking - but look, what if they can't - or what if they can't without changing all of Draconic, which I just got done telling my alt he couldn't do—" Sniffle.
"You haven't asked yet!" says Finnah. "They're miracle workers!"
thisvorlunatic
"If they can't do it without changing Draconic for everyone then having to decide whether or not to ask them might actually kill me," Mial whispers.
Finnah hugs him harder.
Aurin starts pacing. Then he stops and sits back down, head in his hands.
unmarred
Mark hugs Mial and thinks inscrutable Mark thoughts.
(With the right push, he could get Mial going. Straight out the door to demand himself a miracle come hell or high water. And then if they couldn't deliver—well. That would end badly. Mark, personally, does not at this point give a flying shit about the sanctity of Draconic, but he cares very much about Mial's emotional stability.)
(With the right push, he could get Mial going. Straight out the door to demand himself a miracle come hell or high water. And then if they couldn't deliver—well. That would end badly. Mark, personally, does not at this point give a flying shit about the sanctity of Draconic, but he cares very much about Mial's emotional stability.)
"I could go ask instead," Finnah says. "If that would be better."
"Uh, Avar, can you teleport home to get me the crystal, I can't leave the store -" Finnah unhugs to make for the door.
Finnah sells somebody a chocolate shaped like a squirrel, and then calls the miracle workers.
"Hi. Uh, Mial, he's the one who wanted to stay a shren, he's, not in a very good place right now? He -" Finnah pauses to wonder how in the hell the miracle workers got here anyway. Perhaps it involved magic doors; no one has claimed to have summoned them. But that's not her priority right now. "Ran into a word that he wants to be a word, very, very badly, but Draconic won't take it, but he doesn't want to screw up Draconic for people who want it like it is. Can miracles fix this problem?"
nonbird
"Miracles can fix most things," says the miracle worker. "Um. I might have to understand more about what you mean by this word..."
"So Draconic for dragon is 'siad' and Draconic for 'awesome, dragon-style, rah rah so great' is 'siaddaki' and we met this human who was like 'oh this probably works like suffixes I'm used to!' and said 'shrennaki' and Draconic won't take it, it's not a word, but Mial needs for it to be a word."
nonbird
"...That is very weird," says the miracle worker. "Um. This is a magical problem, correct? Draconic is a magical language... can I teleport to where you are and see you say all that again? I can see magic, it is useful for this sort of thing."
"Yeah, you can, I'm just at work."
