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A fabulous fox
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"You said I am it. What in the Hell is that supposed to mean if it doesn't mean you brought this on our town?"

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"Oh. I'm the giant fox that was running around earlier. Not - everything that's happening. I'm sorry, that was very unclear of me."

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"So you're somebody's girl, run off to be a giant fox. Ought to run home to your family if they'll still have you."

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"Oh shit. Uh. Most girls shouldn't try to be foxes or whatever. Please, make sure to spread that. They will get - stuck. I was magic even before the starscape, shape changing thing."

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"Of course they shouldn't be foxes or whatever! None of them should be anything! It's happening anyway!"

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"...It sure is. I mean, I think it's pretty great, but..." Sigh.

Sheeeeee'll just keep going on the stew, how about. 

What time even is it. Taverns are usually pretty busy in the evening, is it still early afternoon?

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It's getting on dinnertime but at least this one guy is looking in and seeing her and leaving.

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Actually: This sucks.

She grumpily finishes her stew and bread and doesn't bother asking about a room. She'll unhide her ears and tail and march straight back out of town, northwards.

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Nobody is going to go after her with pitchforks and torches but one woman covers her daughter's eyes while she passes.

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And none of the 'girls' are visible and/or look like they want to talk?

See if you get her attempting to re-derive the jacquard loom.

Tamamo, are you SURE I have to stay here?

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She does not see any girls who appear to be magical.

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Of course they're fucking- Hiding them or something, what kind of patriarchal bullshit, Tirra was never this bad, maybe because people COULD turn up with magic grumble grumble grumble.

She's in a bad enough mood that she identifies the impulse to spy around and find them as the kind of Idea She Used To Have During The Bad Time, and discard it.

North, at the sprint in humanoid form. Running isn't thinking.

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Oh, there's a magical girl, once she's past the farm belt. She's trying to build herself a house out of conjured pieces of stone and it's not working at all but she's keeping at it like she thinks there might be a knack to it.

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Slow, slow, stop. Deeeeeeeep breath.

What picks her out as magic? Can she just - tell - or is it obvious?

"-Hey!"

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"- hi! Oh, you're so pretty!" This girl has wings, big white bird wings.

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"Heh. Uh, thanks."

She shakes her head. Does an ear-flick.

"...If you figure out how to fly I'll be really interested in copying your work. People are pretty heavy though."

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"I flew here, I crashed once but it worked fine..."

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"-Huh. I really thought it would be - you know, hard. I'm Weiss."

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"I'm... hm... you can call me Rosa."

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"Don't like the old one? Ah- No, sorry. Forget I asked."

She frowns thoughtfully at the house-attempt.

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"Do you know how to make this work? I can make all this stuff, but..."

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"Well it's sort of- Not really real, right? Like a dream or a faerie wish. I haven't- Hmm. I bet if I kept taking off the same hat, the same thing would happen."

Now she's wearing a cute little bowler hat. Red. And throwing it. And again. And again.

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"Yeah, that's what happens to me, too, but I just think I ought to be able to build stuff..."

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"Well. I'll help you build stuff out of - real materials, if you like. I'm, uh. I've been magic for longer than you, for years and years, but it's different. The starscape thing is new. If you get pretty enough you should get an extra magic power. Maybe that'll help, if you haven't got it already."

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"...you were magic for years? How?" She shuts her eyes and starts updating her outfit.

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