runecasting is an art

[dark_light]

It's about forty-five minutes before Isabella has a first draft of the spell.

She starts sugaring it onto her floor. (She kept one tiny cornucopia; better to own a single magic device than to have to keep a whole stock of herbs. She can learn to work around its reluctance to produce poisons, or just carry the common toxics with her.) Path goes up to the attic to ask if Kas and Petaal want to watch her cast.

Comments

[truthwright]

Kas and Petaal are cuddling; Petaal is in male-human shape. Neither of them is in clothes.

They would indeed like to watch her cast. Down they go!

[dark_light]

It's convenient that no one in the house cares that they are not in clothes.

Isabella's halfway done with the sugar runes when they arrive. "Hi," she says, pausing to smile over her shoulder. "I give this a fifty-fifty chance of working. If it doesn't I sweep this up and try again with a different approach on defining 'alethiometer'."

[truthwright]

Petaal enfoxes and hops into Kas's arms; he strokes her orange-red fur.

"That looks complicated as hell," he remarks.

[dark_light]

"Is," says Isabella. "Have to tell the spell what an alethiometer is. Have to tell it which ones are lost as opposed to already had. Have to tell it to bring one here - although I wasn't too careful with the 'one' part; I don't mind if I get multiple lost alethiometers. Several steps, none of which are oriented to witchy strengths." Sugar, sugar, sugar.

[truthwright]

"You're going to have the tastiest floor in the country," he remarks.

[dark_light]

"Do not eat my sugar runes. I require them," says Isabella.

Sugar, sugar. Almost done. Path's feathers are all fluffed out.

[truthwright]

"I promise not to eat your sugar runes," he says agreeably.

[dark_light]

The last rune is sugared into place.

Isabella steps over it and kneels in the center of her circle, hands on her knees, breathing shallowly. Path remains outside, facing her, sitting on the floor.

"Sugar circle, seek and bring
The compass that can, silent, sing.
Find it, bring it, take it here,
From its place to somewhere near,
And in my hands place honesty
And give Alethia to me."

The sugar runes are scattered into a fine dust of sweetness all over the room with a sudden wind.

The lights flicker.

And when they come back up, Isabella is holding a slightly dented alethiometer.

She instantly shrieks with delight and hugs her device.

[truthwright]

Kas beams.

[dark_light]

"All right, intuitive reader person," she says, walking over the slightly crunchy-sounding floor towards Kas, "can you find out for me if I'm a crazy with in the making?"

[truthwright]

"Love to," he says cheerfully, and takes the alethiometer from her.

"Hi, you," he murmurs to it.

[dark_light]

Isabella peers at it. Path hops from foot to foot, then flies to Isabella's shoulder and continues hopping.

[truthwright]

The needle swings. Kas tracks it for a moment, then shakes his head and traces his fingertips around the ring of symbols. Once, twice.

He turns the dials.

The rhythm of the circling needle changes—slowing as he composes his question, then taking on new focus and purpose. Kas watches it intently. Occasionally he mutters a word under his breath; slowly, he starts to frown.

Then he snorts.

"Okay," he says, "apparently it can't tell me anything about the inside of your head unless you're the one asking. But I get to read over your shoulder, lucky me."

He hands over the alethiometer.

[dark_light]

"Convenient birth blessing," snorts Isabella. "What do I ask it? Witch is bird meaning twelve, but maybe you can get it to refer more specifically? Something under the helmet for the crazy-witch stuff? I don't remember there being a specific 'domestic violence' level there. You tell me."

[truthwright]

"I skipped the witch part," he says with a shrug. "I asked it if you'd kill somebody for—you know, I can't even think how to say it properly in English. The sword was deadly revenge, the apple was love and independence, the garden was possessiveness."

[dark_light]

"Do you have numbers for those?" asks Isabella. "And which of them points at me? How do you know it wasn't telling you about some random other person?"

[truthwright]

"Do I need numbers? I didn't need numbers. Maybe you need numbers," he says. "And it was really obviously talking about you, it mentioned your birth blessing specifically, so I guess it was smart enough to get that part by itself."

[dark_light]

"I think I need numbers. I'll try without." She poses the question, turning so Kas can see. "I don't remember possessivess anywhere."

[truthwright]

"Well, it's in there," he says. "I dunno if it's in your dictionary."

[dark_light]

"That's going to be awkward if I do need numbers." She fixes the third hand on the dial and focuses.

[truthwright]

Kas watches.

It takes a little longer to slow down for her, but it does. And then it starts answering.

"Nothing to worry about," he translates. "Killing for love is not—who you are as a person. Well, that's nice. Can we make out now?"

[dark_light]

She sets her new alethiometer down ever-so-gently in the sugar, and then spins to face Kas and crosses her wrists behind his neck to pull him down and forward and kiss him.

[truthwright]

He kisses back with great enthusiasm, wrapping her up in a tight hug; Petaal shifts anaconda and twines herself around them both.

[dark_light]

In context being in contact with Petaal is not just okay, something she can get used to, a price for fluffiness or something she had to be asked to do. It's exquisite, like the kisses are not just to the mouth but to the soul, at least in one direction. (She can't think about the other yet. Physical virginity is exactly worthless and she'll abandon it without caring; Segaard Oskei's blanket blessing to witches in general will not see her fall under her portfolio element of motherhood without her own consent; but Path's untouched feathers - less inconsequential. She'll maybe think about it later.)

With a snake around her pressing her in close to Kas she can reach exactly one knot on her silks. But she can undo it with one hand, just fine. (He's already starclad; there's nothing needs doing there.)

[truthwright]

Petaal doesn't stay snake-shaped for very long, as much as she loves having them both wrapped up like this. She can do that almost as well if she has arms.

Maybe the Joker spoiled them a little this way, but Petaal's new favourite thing about doing this with someone they're very close to is that she gets to play too.

She shifts witch-shape, hugs Isabella, and at the first opportunity steals a kiss.

[dark_light]

Nnnf.

That's also a thing. That's it's whole own other thing.

(Isabella hasn't hacked herself non-straight like Bell. She hasn't had to. Petaal's a daemon, and a straight girl's partner's daemons? Usually female.)

Kisses.

[truthwright]

It's a whole-own-other-thing for Kas, too, helped along a tiny bit by the fact that Isabella and Petaal are both gorgeous.

Mostly, though, it's the fact that his daemon is making out with someone he loves. That is what's making him feel immeasurably, dizzily, soul-searingly wonderful. The visuals are just a delicious little bonus.

[dark_light]

Path chooses this moment to hoot a low, sad, neglected hoot. He can only touch two of the three other bodies in the room and if they're going to be all tangled up he gets no snuggles at all. (And bird bones are fragile, anyway.)

[truthwright]

"Oh, sweetie," says Petaal, breaking away from her attempt to gently devour Isabella's face and pressing one last quick kiss to the corner of her mouth before she shifts linsang and bounds over to Path to administer urgent cuddles.

Kas laughs, a little shakily.

[dark_light]

Isabella half-falls back into him while Path snuggles up to Petaal. Daemons snuggling still gives feedback, if less intensely. Their souls are, after all, touching.

Kisses. Kisses and the undoing of knots.