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Edie has mixed feelings about the roses.
On the one hand, magic exists.
On the other hand, ow.
On the first hand, perfect healing.
On the second hand, ow.
On the first hand, flight.
On the second hand, holy fucking ow that one's definitely the worst, yep, ow ow ow.
whatamithinking
She may alter the colours of things. Not very fast. And not the roses. The roses are not editable by this power.
iamnotpolaris
They can go on like this for a while. It's a good routine. Magic is fun. And, you know, gross and painful, but whatever.
Emily sticks with dance club even after she's better than anyone else there at any of the dances they know, what with their lack of cheaty magic. But she's not particularly subtle about how good at it she is--that would make the dancing itself much less fun. She acquires a handful of admirers.
Possibly the most likeable of these is Luc, whose mom is from Montreal and who plays up his consequent knowledge of French like a Hollywood Parisian, but always in a sufficiently self-parodying way as not to become insufferable.
And one meeting, he presents her with a blue-stemmed white rose.
"What," she says.
He gives a presumably gallic shrug. "My great aunt died, recently. This was hers. She always claimed it was possessed, and perhaps she was right, for for as long as my parents have been bundling me into the car and incarcerating me in her stuffy old house for family reunions it has sat on the hall end table, and never has it wilted! When it fell into my possession in the general scuffle of my less savory relatives for the crumbs of her estate, I knew such beauty and mystery could only belong in the possession of the veritable Muse of our fair halls," he declaims.
"It's...beautiful. I appreciate it more than you know," she murmurs, taking it with care not to cut herself on the white-tipped thorns and even more care not to accidentally prick him with them. That would be a disaster.
And once the meeting is over and everything's packed up and everyone's left there is a very urgent email to write.
Found a new rose!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guy from dance club gave it to me. Inheritance from a dead relative who thought it was possessed. Have not tested it yet. Will v. soon.
Emily sticks with dance club even after she's better than anyone else there at any of the dances they know, what with their lack of cheaty magic. But she's not particularly subtle about how good at it she is--that would make the dancing itself much less fun. She acquires a handful of admirers.
Possibly the most likeable of these is Luc, whose mom is from Montreal and who plays up his consequent knowledge of French like a Hollywood Parisian, but always in a sufficiently self-parodying way as not to become insufferable.
And one meeting, he presents her with a blue-stemmed white rose.
"What," she says.
He gives a presumably gallic shrug. "My great aunt died, recently. This was hers. She always claimed it was possessed, and perhaps she was right, for for as long as my parents have been bundling me into the car and incarcerating me in her stuffy old house for family reunions it has sat on the hall end table, and never has it wilted! When it fell into my possession in the general scuffle of my less savory relatives for the crumbs of her estate, I knew such beauty and mystery could only belong in the possession of the veritable Muse of our fair halls," he declaims.
"It's...beautiful. I appreciate it more than you know," she murmurs, taking it with care not to cut herself on the white-tipped thorns and even more care not to accidentally prick him with them. That would be a disaster.
And once the meeting is over and everything's packed up and everyone's left there is a very urgent email to write.
Found a new rose!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guy from dance club gave it to me. Inheritance from a dead relative who thought it was possessed. Have not tested it yet. Will v. soon.
iamnotpolaris
And after a few minutes: Ha. Pun intended? Also, cute, I look a little less like palette-swap Poison Ivy and a little more like some kind of plant fairy now. ...I'm going to have to peel something out and/or put it back in if I want to get rid of this skirt, aren't I.
lookingforwardtoit
Yeah, if you don't have full outfit control yet then you can only mess with it while there's a new flower on its way in.
iamnotpolaris
I can probably cover this with, like, normal skirts for a while, but this was not the most thoughtful life choice I have ever made.
She pokes at the new available magic.
She pokes at the new available magic.
Well she can't cold things very fast yet, but she can refrigerate them pretty respectably if she puts the time in. With sufficient dedication, she can even freeze water. The effect is reasonably well targeted, but of course when she makes one thing cold it tends to make things next to it cold all by itself.
If it is her life's ambition to freeze things in shapes then she can freeze things in (blobby, small, imprecise) shapes. And, like so many things in flower magic, she can improve this capacity with practice.
iamnotpolaris
It's not her life's ambition, but along with trying to freeze things faster and in wider areas it's the obvious route for improvement.
Oh, hey, does the rate at which she can reduce something's temperature correlate meaningfully to its specific heat?
Oh, hey, does the rate at which she can reduce something's temperature correlate meaningfully to its specific heat?
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