picknicking | Glowfic Constellation

prodigal_miser

There is someone who isn't aware that he's about to crash a one-person picnic. In fact, if he'd known the consequences of arriving in this dimension without certain protections, he might have reconsidered. Of course, he didn't know any better, and this was the easiest plane to travel to for what he seeks. His scryings say this place has the plant, so here he is.

So when he appears in an open area a reasonable distance away from the picnicking witch, he is utterly surprised by the large bird that soon follows on his shoulder.

"Um," says the man eloquently, staring at the bird. His clothes are strange, and his hair's an unnatural color that matches his daemon. Obviously, he's not from around here.

dark_light

Isabella wasn't looking in that direction, so she doesn't see the bird materialize; she just sees an oddly-dressed fellow with bleached hair and a kagu daemon who wasn't there a minute ago.

"Where'd you come from?" she asks.

prodigal_miser

"New Kystle," he says, turning to face the picnicking witch. He'd expected people, here, but not- random birds.

Serenely, the daemon on his shoulder says in a feminine voice, "We have no idea why I'm here."

The man goes and stares at the daemon some more. "... Yes. That- is indeed true. Why do you sound like my sister?"

"I have no idea," replies his shiny new daemon.

dark_light

"Well, you're not a witch, so where else would she be? Did her voice change recently?" asks Pathalan.

prodigal_miser

"I did not exist recently. Both of us are reeling from the change," explains the kagu.

dark_light

"...Beg pardon?" asks Amariah. "From where I'm sitting no part of you existed recently."

prodigal_miser

"No, I existed before, I was just somewhere else. It, well, she wasn't with me," the man says, confused.

"We think it's this plane," says the daemon. "And he's now afraid I'm a security risk to him, since I know him."

Obviously something about this is completely unnerving to the man. He looks at the kagu, as if trying to mentally dissect her for secrets. It's quite a strange way to look at one's daemon.

dark_light

"You mean to say you traveled here from another... 'plane'... and until you got here you were some kind of zombie?"

prodigal_miser

"Apparently so," deadpans Adarin. "Why am I a zombie if I don't have a magic talking bird on my shoulder?"

dark_light

"I cannot even begin to explain all the things wrong with that question," says Isabella.

prodigal_miser

"Is she not a magic talking bird? She's talking, I'm taking the guess that she's magic," replies the man, confused.

The daemon on his shoulder nuzzles him. She has to lean down to do it. "I won't tell your secrets, they were questions you didn't know how to ask. Things you didn't know how to say, but you wanted to."

Tentatively, Adarin pets her. "This is the most bewildering plane I've ever been to."

dark_light

"Not all daemons are birds," says Pathalan. "For humans, anyway, and you can't be a witch."

"And she's not very magic, even mortals have them and mortals can't do anything else remotely magic," says Isabella. "And everyone has one, except bears, and you aren't a bear either."

prodigal_miser

"I would hope I'm not a bear. I would be quite embarrassed to not have noticed by now," he replies. "Why bears specifically? Are there, say, field mice that have uh... 'Daemons'?"

dark_light

"Only people have daemons, not mice," says Isabella patiently. "And only witches and mortals, of people; not armored bears."

prodigal_miser

Adarin takes a minute to soak in the completely serious statement about 'armored bears.' His daemon says something, softly, into his ear. He nods, a little, still looking confused.

"Good day, I'm Adarin. Pleasure to meet you, you've been incredibly helpful so far. I think I'll need more explanation, though, I'm quite confused," replies the man.

dark_light

"I've never had to explain daemons before," snorts Isabella. "Everybody's got one. If you'd showed up without one I'd have thought you were a zombie. Has she got a name?"

prodigal_miser

"It's not like that in my home," explains Adarin. "There are no daemons."

"I don't have a name," says the kagu. "Do you have any ideas? We've never had to name something before."

dark_light

"It really depends. Daemon names are usually a little longer and fancier than their people's names; your parents' daemons are usually supposed to pick something. I'm Isabella - Isabella Amariah - and this is my Pathalan. How in the world do you get along without daemons?"

prodigal_miser

"Reasonably well? What does one do with a magic talking- er. Daemon?" asks Adarin, correcting himself in the middle of 'magic talking bird,' though a bit too late to matter.

dark_light

"What practical things they can do depends a little on what shape they take, I guess, but they're - there to hold and talk to when everyone else is gone. Path knows me like I know myself. And they talk to each other, too, they do a lot of the - emotional subtext of conversations. Some daemons won't even talk to people."

"And we're separated, so I can go on errands, though that's only because we're a witch," says Path.

prodigal_miser

"I can see how that would be useful. Strange, but useful. Usually emotional subtext goes unsaid, or we have to be perceptive," Adarin says. He looks at his daemon. "Are you going to refuse to speak to people?"

Enigmatically, the kagu replies, "If it's convenient."

She looks at Pathalan. "Separated?"

dark_light

"Well, by default no one can get very far away from their daemon," shrugs Amariah. "If you do it anyway, then you can go on doing it and it doesn't hurt anymore. Witches do, when our daemons' shapes settle - when we're about thirteen. Humans overwhelmingly don't."

prodigal_miser

"I think," says the kagu. "That we are a special case and that inevitably we will need to be away from each other." Adarin nods, grimly. If it was better than mana deprivation, he could handle it reasonably enough. He'd have to test it to see.

"What level of pain are we speaking of?" asks Adarin.

dark_light

"...Most thirteen-year-old witches manage it within five tries and many on the first?" suggests Amariah. "It's more of an emotional - thing, than a physical pain."

prodigal_miser