Dec 09, 2019 11:20 AM
Ms. Frizzle and Promise
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Valerie Frizzle, more commonly known as the Teacher, pulls some levers and pushes some buttons on her dashboard, opening up a psychic link with the TARDIS core inside. Where will she take me next? she wonders.

The answer comes as raw concepts, too powerful for language, as usual pushing the edge of too much too fast for even a Time Lady's brain, but as always gentle enough to do no actual harm. Somewhere interesting. Somewhere with new phenomena to learn about and new people to meet.

So, same as always, then. Ms. Frizzle jokingly pats the console as the vortex opens, whirls around them for an infinite moment, and deposits them . . . somewhere.

"Well," she murmurs as she opens the door. "Time to take chances, make mistakes, and get messy."

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It doesn't immediately look that interesting or full of new phenomena; it looks like a forest, albeit without species identical to any specific ones she's acquainted with.

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Then she will happily stroll through the forest, examining the plants and forming hypotheses about their phylogeny and physiology and occasionally taking a cutting of a particularly intruiging one.

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And eventually, a new phenomenon appears. He's a short spindly person with wings and bright, highlighter-yellow hair. "Hello there!"

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"Hello! I've never met a member of your species before, unless you're an unusually colored Traxalan. How do you do?"

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"I'm doing well! What's your name?"

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"People call me the Teacher." She isn't as reticent about sharing her name as some Time Ladies, but the sense she's getting from him makes her want to keep things formal. "And yourself?"

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"Call me Yellow," he says. "Don't tell anyone else your name, and follow me." And he takes off and flies back in the direction whence he came.

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She notices the extraphysical properties of Yellow's words a moment before she feels herself being compelled to obey them. Inconvenient, decidedly so, but also fascinating. She wants to learn more about this (incredibly rude) person anyway, so she chooses to follow him at a distance of a few meters rather than a few kilometers or light-years or what have you.

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"Did you meet anybody else since you got to Fairyland?" he asks. "Tell me the truth."

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She comes up with a couple ways to decieve him, as an intellectual exercise, but has no actual reason to lie about that. "No," she says, and adds "Why would you think I would lie?" to give the general impression that she hasn't noticed what's going on.

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"Just making sure," he says.

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She has nothing to say to that. She watches Yellow and the forest. The ground doesn't curve much; either this planet is very large for its surface gravity or she's in one of those big-flat-plane dimensions. She prefers the ones with planets, but it does take all sorts.

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"Try to get along with my other vassal," he mentions after a bit more traveling.

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So he's been doing this sort of thing to exactly one other person, then. Most likely someone who could use a helping hand. "Of course," she says. "It's always better when people get along with each other." She wonders what that order will actually require her to do; possibly no more than she had been planning on already.

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A bit more walk later they arrive at a bungalow right on the edge of a lake - extending over the water a bit, in fact. It's not sized for her but she'll be able to get through the door if she ducks.

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She heads on in. Looks like the inside fits entirely inside the outside. Is the aforementioned other vassal at home?

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Yes! She emerges from one of the rooms when she hears the door open.

"Promise! This is - pick a safer nickname," Yellow tells the Teacher.

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Frizzle picks "corundum" as a random word with no connection to her whatsoever, but asks, "What makes a nickname safer?" rather than immediately saying it.

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"Can't have a syllable overlap with your real name."

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"Then my nickname shall be Corundum. Hello, Promise." How does Promise appear to feel about Yellow?

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Not really enthusiastic. "Hello, Corundum."

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Corundum just smiles and keeps looking boring.

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"Obey Promise as though she were your master," says Yellow, "don't try anything clever. Promise, show her around."

"Yes sir," says Promise.

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That could be anything from a serious complication to a minor inconvenience depending on Promise's attitude. She examines what she can see of the bungalow and prepares to follow Promise around. The whole style of architecture was clearly designed for habitation by flying people, and their tech level is on the low side. Maybe a young civilization, maybe enough people have those order powers that it's stunted their growth. Anthropologically interesting either way.

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Yellow lets himself back out. Promise begins a tour of the house, which has a main room and two bedrooms - Promise's is decorated with drawings on the walls. "He'll probably get around to having me add a room for you at some point," Promise says. "Uh, how confused are you right now?"

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