"Shiiit. That-- that sucks, man."

"Yeah. The rich spit on th' poor. The powerful on the meek. Witches on everyone else's stupid rules. Is the way it works. I hate 'em. I'm workin' for 'em. Some days I feel like I should set all their stuff on fire and hide an' watch... I dunno, thas' a bit much."

"But, like, you're a witch. You could spit on the rules about-- spitting on the rules. Like."

"They got witches too. Witch police. And, like, I don't wanna kill people or wreck shit or anything. Is just so - bleagh."

"They've got, like, witches in case you witch too hard?

Like, there's gotta be away to like, mess with the rules with no one getting hurt."

"Witch police don't care unless you, like, kill people or blow up buildings or do nasty curse stuff. I think."

"Yay witch police: not total killjoys."

"Yaaaay... I should. Go home before I get any more drunker. Back to work t'morrow. Gotta get paid."

"Yeah, work is, like, a thing you gotta do. G'night."

Yay, Lunar metabolism! Marena is not going to be hungover tomorrow.

"Come see me 'gain. Today was fun. Byeeeeee."

This bar doesn't have an inn in it, but there are plenty of places like that nearby.

She finds the nearest inn, and crashes for the night.

(She could probably have found someone to sleep with easy enough. Not everyone is a prude, and the city folk seem to care about that a bit less than those in the countryside. There were some attractive guys at the bar.)

But in any case, the city goes to sleep around her.

The heavy background roar of construction starts back up the next morning, just after sunrise.

The attractive guys will just have to wait another night. Duty calls! To Reynolds! To do the not-under-the-table-jobs!

She has to wait outside for a bit while this random guard who is definitely not ogling no sir waits for someone to get Reynolds to confirm she should be let in.

And then she can go back to Reynolds' office.

"Marena, welcome back! I've got a couple options for you if you're still looking for work. A short hop to Cardiff that is a bit too bulky for one broom, or if you'd rather, we can pay you to store up mana for other witches. A friend of mine in one of the other divisions told me about that program."

And Marena is definitely not standing in a way to show off her best features for ogling, oh no sir.

...okay, she has no idea if she can store mana, so let's not try that one. "I'd be happy to head over to Cardiff."

"Grand. It's a round trip. About a hundred miles. The pay for freelancers on this flight is-" Easily two weeks' worth of inn rooms and food, with some left over. "I'll just need you to read and sign this... You can read, yes? I've been learning not to assume that."

It's a document saying - basically - that if she screws up and crashes there will be an investigation, if she deliberately tampers with or steals it there will be Witch Police after her. Less than one page.

"Yeah, I can read. This sounds reasonable."

And, after a bit of thought, signs her name 'Ragara Marena.'

"And that's all the paperwork you need to do! For this sort of job, at least. I'll take care of the rest later. But first, let's show you to the yard and the delivery you'll be making, yeah? Follow me, please."

And out to the yard and across it to where two of those big steel machines are sitting, being loaded up with packages. "Helas, I found you a freelancer for the other 'wing. You won't have to make two trips after all."

Helas, who looks almost startlingly young and is only slightly less fair-skinned than most people in this city, replies in a heavy accent, "Ah, thank you! I do not mind work but two times the same fly in one day is enochlitikós."

"Glad to be of help. Marena, she'll show you the ropes. Sorry to pass you off like this, I always have more work to do. Unless you have any questions for me...?"

"Nope! I'm good!" She says, desperately pretending that she can definitely fly that thing.

"Hi Helas!"

"Hello! A new face. Good." Helas looks about fifteen, from a little closer. Small-framed, short. She looks Marena up and down a bit jealously. "You might get cold up there. Have you ever flown big-box brooms before?"

"Ehh, the cold's never bothered me. And no," she says, not mentioning that she's never flown a broom before, how the heck is she going to fly this?

Helas shrugs. "You northerners and your cold. I saw snow first time earlier this year! Bah. Hokay. I tell you, Marena. It is not like small broom. Small broom, you just want, go, magic in broom, you fly. Easy. Big wing-broom, you must push magic. Fill whole thing with magic. Only then you fly. Be careful and slow. Do not get distracted in the air. Watch."

She hops onto the large metal 'broom' and closes her eyes. The incredibly weird thing with the Essence is slightly less weird, seeing it a second time. It rushes along the metal struts and spiky bits, down, out.

She grips the handlebars at the front of the thing and lifts gently into the air, breathing deeply. She rises a couple of feet, and then just as gently sets down.

"You must stay balanced and focused, like riding a horse. And like riding a horse, maybe you fall first time. We should both sit on one so I catch you if you are going to crash."

"Sounds good. Don't want to splatter myself"

Marena sits in the broom and tries to do the pushing thing?

It takes a moment to click but then the essence, or mana, flows. It's surprisingly - natural? But not in the same way as using her other powers.

The broom-thing jerks a bit but does not leave the ground.

Why is this working this should not be working.

Let's up the Essensce flow-- a little. Let's see if getting air borne will be a thing, with a minimal risk of zooming away down the field.