(2017-05-30) That's No Moon!
That's No Moon!
Summary: A midnight practice session attracts a nosy bird. Moritz and Fionnuala meet properly.
Date: 2017-05-30
Related: None.
NPCs: None.
Scene Runner: Moritz

Lighthouse Isle
Tue May 30, 2017

This is a rocky island, with only one good location for a dock. While some old buildings on the island are in disrepair, the docks are maintained by the New Hampshire Division of Parks and Recreation. On the southern tip of the island is the old Lighthouse. No longer maintained with the reduction of necessity for shipping in the area. It is dilapidated, but the central brick core stands, as do the stairs. Warnings are posted to be cautious but it is not off limits.

Magic. It has its own definite signature and for those who can cast as well as sense it, it's quite palatable. This time it's on the lighthouse island at midnight. The magical sparks , flames, and other indications are pretty clear across the water from the main island of the school.
It's on the beach, just beneath the lighthouse. He stands amidst a cacophony of sound and a discord of light. The look on his face is of determination against something a bit more than he can handle. But he continues to struggle. His arms wave about in patterns, casting, recasting, and reigning in energies that circle him. Energies that he has summoned and bend to his will - for the most part. However, every now and again, the streak of magical energy is too much for him to handle and it slams into the nearby waters or the beach. This occurs off and on and when it does, he refocuses on another collection of that energy. Causing it to flow around him, in a radius of 10 meters down to a few centimeters from his skin.
He also wears his Athena super suit with a robe of dark red over it. The robe has a magical tinge to it, perhaps protection. In all counts, Moritz is definitely causing, controlling, losing control, controlling again, summoning more, and practicing with the raw energy of his magic nature.

What need would a little crow have for a ferry, to gain access to deliciously dilapidated places such as this? This lonely, rocky island absolutely screams for Fionnuala's attention. With a spare first thing in the morning tomorrow and a night-owl (er, crow's) enjoyment of the deep dark, Fionnuala saw fit to go check things out. That, and there was that matter of seeing lights and flashes originating over on that outcrop.

Under her own power she had flown here a short while ago. Always, always… Fee delights in her 'other' form, enjoying the intelligence of the bird; the survivalist need to scavenge and gather. But places such as this, too, are nice to explore on two legs. But not yet.

The svelte black bird's golden eyes (not inky black) observe a young man as he tests his magical boundaries, her head bobbing with every crackling burst of energy as it illuminates the dark water. Fionnuala has no magic sense, but she needn't such a thing to surmise this guy's power. She is perched on the skeletal remains of what must have been the foundation for a utility shed, not too far off from where Moritz practices. Those with acute magic sense may very well pick up on either the mystical energies that surround the little crow, keeping her in that form.. or the essences of light and wind elementals that swirl around within her.

<FS3> Moritz rolls Mystic: Great Success.
<FS3> Moritz rolls Heightened Senses: Failure.

The twisting, undulating, magical energies that swirl around him begin to form several patterns. Swirling about him, they pick up speed and form a sphere, then a dodecaheadron and with a stronger force of will, Moritz forms it into a pyramidal shape around his form. The colors of the magic all form into a bright red and then he says loudly, "Enough!" and the magic fades into nothingness. He mastered the raw energy with great success. He gives pause, breathing heavily. His eyes aren't clear and he wipes the sweat from them with the sleeve of his robe. He then looks out over the water, not seeing the magical creature that spies upon him.

See, Fionnuala may be curious to a fault, but she respects processes when she sees them. That and she's always appreciative of precisely what others can do. Therefore the nosey crow isn't going to so much as utter a sound as Moritz's casting culminates in that brilliantly red aura. The crow's head bobs again appreciatively and Fee thinks to herself: 'were she wield such abilities she'd be more likely to blow herself up'. Huh.

The exclamation of 'enough' cuts into the air, and with it the magic dissipates. Fee's form is once again cloaked in the nightfall; she is the only crow to be found on this beach, oddly enough. Keen vision watches the young man wipe his face and move to survey the water. Finally, Fionnuala decides to breath that perfect, dark silence.

Not the beauteous trill of a songbird; not even her own natural voice as a girl. Just a sharp, raucous "CAW!" … "Caw caw!"

She's not known for tact.

<FS3> Moritz rolls Heightened Senses: Good Success.

It's midnight. No crow is going to be up this late cawing around doing crow stuff… At least that's the logic behind Moritz's thought processes when he hears the vocalizations. His own curiousity causes him to look about from the water back toward the rocky land. His eyes spy the magical signature of the crow and a second later he discerns the nature of the creature. Since he's seen her around, never engaged, he says in his clear, distinct, English accent, "I was wondering when you would come out of your shell, Fee."

<FS3> Fionnuala rolls Shapeshift: Success.

It was only a matter of time. A girl can only hide for so long — in this case, blend into the herd — before being called out on it. So when Moritz finally catches onto her, the crow jerks it's head back once. If a bird could wear a look of incredulous surprise, this would be a solid case… so now it's time to be polite and find her voice. There are no bells-and-whistles to Fionnuala's transformation; just a flash of light as her body simultaneously calls forth the magical energies which cater solely to such transformations, and perhaps release a bit of stored sunlight as a by-product.

She stands now in front of the stalk of haggard wood upon which she had perched as a crow, topaz eyes watching Moritz ruefully. Her pajamas are so fugly they're charming: a black t-shirt, flannel pants bearing the Star Wars insignia across the arse. No tact at all. But the girl herself looks perfectly comfortable, hair piled up into a messy black bun.

"Couldn't help myself. I hope I didn't interrupt you much." The girl replies finally, her pretty voice colored with a Scottish accent but not dominated by it. "That was amazing."

The expression on his face is that of pleasure. As if he's pleased to see her out or at least in this situation. There's a slight hook to the corners of his mouth in the hint of a smile and his dark green eyes are attentive to her transformation and subsequent presentation. Once she is done, and a proper girl before him, he allows his mouth to take on the full grin as he identifies the attire and hair.
He notes with a gentle shake of his head in denial, "Quite the contrary. I welcome the company. Especially when it comes to the magical sort. Those, like yourself, who can appreciate the struggle over the raw magical energies and final taming of their discord. The others, albeit powered, cannot appreciate what we deal with on a daily basis. It's not just the magic inside of us, but also the energy of the Earth and all the adjoining dimensions. Their minds cannot comprehend such expressions. Not like you and I."

To Fee, English accents mean 'classiness'. If she's aware of herself looking like a bumpkin in front of this adept Mystic with that posh accent, Fee is very effective at hiding it. Suddenly the pajama pants feel outright foolish but damnit, they were two dollars at the thrift store. But—-oh, wait.. is that a grin. Oh yeah, it's a grin. Fionnuala wipes her palms on her pants and tilts her chin up some, trying to look presentable and attentive in those hideous digs. She should have changed before the shift and flight out here, but details details. She was in bed and wanted to investigate quickly.

Foolish her attire may be, the girl has an intelligent look about her and in those eyes in particular. Fee may not be quite as steeped in such forces as Moritz, but she appreciates the art of it all and when the young man speaks to her, is even inclusive to her, Fee's lips pull up into a shy smile of pleasure. She, too, has seen this fellow around.. he's a Senior, if she recalls. "Trust me, I get it." She admits, moving to pad forward but leaning to pick up an empty, sun-dried crab claw. Brief examination; toss. "I deal with wind and sunlight. I can't hope to perform what I just saw here, tonight." Fee admits with humility. "I… didn't catch you name."

Her words seem to slight herself which causes his head to tilt slightly to the left with a bit of a twist to the neck. His hands move from the pockets on the robe and he offers his right in an introduction, "It's Moritz." His grip will be firm and warm, if she takes it. Hand still hot from the controlling of the magic. He then notes, "Do not sell yourself short. There's much inside of you that can be harnessed. Though you only suggest wind and sunlight, they are two of the strongest forces. Wind's become vortexes or typhoons. Sunlight can burn through anything. And then there's the absence of sunlight which becomes frigid and barren of life."

The slight girl offers her own hand unabashedly, gripping Moritz's own in a surprisingly firm shake. Fee's palm, too, is warm despite the cool edge to the midnight hour. But one thing is for certain, Fionnuala knows how to shake hands! She's not shy about it. "Moritz. Just keep calling me Fee." She offers, lips pulling into a grin. "A name to the face, it's a pleasure. My first-ever midnight introduction." Little Scottish inflections here and there; she was obviously born and raised on American soil. When the young man bids her to not come down too hard upon herself, Fee's grin twitches a bit and softens into a thoughtful smile. "Never truly thought of it that way… I've watched students incinerate things in the blink of an eye, perhaps even have the strength to move mountains…"

A shrug of slight shoulders. There's absolutely no envy in her voice, just awe. To sample that which lies inherently in Fionnuala, however, it's all pure and raw. She was born into it. "So do you often take to abandoned islands in the dark on night to practice? I noticed the lights from the school.. you really seem to know your stuff. What else can you do?" Cough… no kidding. Fee blushes a bit, feeling foolish in stating something so obvious.

Allowing the references to the other students to pass, Moritz doesn't dwell on the doing's of others - especially of those who are not present.
He releases her hand after a moment that their introduction has passed and he gives pause. "Mine is a diversity magic." he turns slightly toward the long beach beneath the high rocks. He intones an invitation, "Walk with me?" Though he doesn't necessarily wait for the yay or nay, he begins to walk as if it were more than a query, but that of instruction or flat out desire.
He says softly, "Illuminatus spheroi." and a feint ball of light appears a foot above himself and casts its light ahead and slightly to the sides of his path. His hands return to the deep pockets of the robe and he walks slowly, ensuring that she can match pace.
He continues to speak, "By definition, diversity magic is just that. It's not a clear focus into one school of magic. But allows me to bend magic to my will. Meaning, I can cast light or heal someone's injuries. Launch a fireball at a horde of skeletons or transform one of them into a sheep for the pleasures of the southern redneck."

Hoo boy.. okay, this is running — ah, walking? — with the big dogs. Fionnuala is one of those sorts who can pal around with most anyone, or at least she thinks she can: be it grades below her, or even those in the vaulted echelons above her. Seniors; those on the precipice of stepping into the 'what now'. So when the shifter, used to working her way through her content little world, is given the offer to walk with this magical prodigy… well. What's a girl in ugly pajamas to do? Be polite and accompany, of course. Fionnuala watches Moritz as she hears out his answer, golden irises glowing mildly in the shadows. Not in the fashion of reflecting light, but due to that inner glow of some manner of magic.

"Diversity magic.." She echoes, and concedes to walking with Moritz for a time. Hey, they're durable slippers! Yes, slippers; simple things with thick suede soles. She REALLY didn't expect to shift back to a humanoid girl, while she was here!

So it's an interesting picture that the two make, Moritz in his Athena super suit and Fee in… well, that. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the ball of light as it is cast ahead, a little intake of breath announcing her intrigue. She turns her head to face him as they stroll, messy shock of hair bobbing above and behind her head and neck.

"Whoa… wow." Fee exhales, eyes wide. "How can one even keep track! And—-" She breaks off into a trill of laughter at the sheep reference; feels badly, presses fingers to her mouth. "When did you come into your powers? Sounds as if this came to be well before you came to school." Fee guesses, anyway. This is big stuff.

"Years before." he answers confidently answering the question about his history with magic. "However…." he states with a pause, "I don't recall them. I only know that I have an innate knowledge of my magical abilities. I know how to cast things when the need arises."

His dark green eyes slant over and down to her and her shoes which dip into the sand. He says, "One tick… I've a question."

<FS3> Fionnuala rolls Shapeshift: Good Success.

Ooooooh. Fionnuala suspected as much! Confidence such as this usually stems from honing abilities in youth, though she feels that is is not her place to be grilling Moritz on whether or not he was a toddler razing skeletons with fireballs. Dear God, a terrifying mental image… but see, this is how Fee's mind works. She's studious and dedicated but she is also an artist, capable of imagining a great many things. As to why her expression is coloring with pleasure for some random reason, who knows; in reality she was entertaining this mental image for all of three seconds. Golden eyes flit back to Moritz in full attentiveness, and she tilts her head thoughtfully.

Confidence is nice, in people. Fee enjoys seeing it. Speaking of such, her lips pull up at their corners in an impish smile and her shoulders jerk once. Half a second, all it takes… as easy as breathing. A great halo of black feathered wings flare outwards from the girl's frame, sweeping behind the two like a black cape as they walk. "Ta-da~" She chimes, giving the magically-fetched appendages a little shake and shimmy.

"That's about all I got for now.." Fee undersells herself in good humor, but pauses. A question? Silence then, a purely quizzical look. "Hrm?"

<FS3> Moritz rolls Heightened Senses: Good Success.

Turning on his heel in the sand, Moritz observes the dark wings extending out from her back. His eyes peer about them and then back to the girl which they extend from. He stands before her now, perhaps half a meter between the two of them. "Question: You shape shift. Yet you mentioned Sunlight and Wind. I can see that your shape shifting isn't illusional, or is it? And most shifters don't retain their clothing when they revert back to human form, or any form for that matter. Are the clothes an illusion as well?" His eyes peer over her clothing while he questions and considers. Trying to sort it out in his head.

The girl pauses in mid-step, then allows her foot to come down wholly upon the path as Moritz stops just a little bit ahead of her, regarding her. Regarding being asked of the nature of her powers, Fionnuala doesn't mind in the least. Is this not the foremost cornerstone in being a student? Knowing yourself first before hoping to know beyond that, and others? The black appendages quiver once as the girl considers, listening to the sigh of the water for a time. Before Coral Springs, Fee could only pass off her skills as 'born this way'; now she has some terms..!

"I've been told that I favor two branches of skills." Fee's pleasant voice starts off, one palm lifting and the opposite fist nestling into it gently. "These are as tangible a part of me," She plucks a feather, holding it. "As this foolish getup." Fee pats the pants, feather held between two fingers as if holding a cigarette.

"The magic that I used to shift feels… I don't know… spiritual? It's in me, it's hereditary.. both of my parents do the same. I simply have to think about it, and it happens." Fionnuala ponders. "The wind magic, I have to pull from my surroundings with an incantation. The sunlight, it's all energy based. I kinda.. have my fingers in many different pies… but rest assured, the clothing is real." She offers sheepishly. "The magic preserves it, when I change shape."

<FS3> Moritz rolls Diversity Magic: Good Success.

Content with the answer, Moritz does not dwell into the subject or push for more answers. But he does raise his right hand and wave it backwards toward her. An indication of casting casually. Her clothing and shoes will shift into something far more suitable. Sneakers, low socks, jeans and a form fitting black Star Wars t-shirt that reads, "That's no moon." beneath a picture of the death star and the falcon flying toward it. Her hair is also more stylish. Yet in a high pony and well brushed. He whispers, "Al-coracus versitus." and then smiles as his hand moves back into the pocket of his robe, "I'm sure your pies are spectacular."

All the same, Fionnuala is content that her ramblings at half-past midnight were coherent enough to satisfy a devout magic user. Sometimes it's just so much easier to say 'born into it', but nowadays that's just… flippant. To at least explain a bit in her own way, that may either help another who is trying to come into their own, or satisfy the curiosity of someone a grade or two above her. Her keen eyes watch Moritz's hand move and, fully anticipating another ball of light or something else to illuminate the dark waters, the shifter is suddenly (and pleasantly) surprised.

Goodbye thrift store special! Fionnuala doesn't even realize what happened for a time until her palms find purchase on a pair of.. jeans? Blink. She looks down hastily, notes the t-shirt and.. oh! Hot damn! Even her nicely-groomed ponytail moves as she looks up quickly, eyes wide and wholly awake. "That…!!"

She sees the shirt now. Win.

Unabashed amazement. "Now that is a skill! Do you realize how lucky you are?! Keep that one under wraps or every girl will be after you to dress them!" Er, wait. Pause. "I mean.. y'know… with.. y'know what I mean." The compliment isn't lost on her, but the blush is meant for how wrong that sounded.

Her excitement brings a smile to his face. Then her words cause him to grin broadly and finally chuckle - especially as she backpeddles with the dressing of every girl at the school.

Moritz adds with the fading of his chuckle, "Or dress her in a lovely ball gown with glass slippers - which I considered a moment for you - then realized that the sand and the slippers wouldn't get along."

Above all, he is content with her reaction. And he's glad he didn't flub it up. He turns again and continues their walk. He doesn't segue into a new subject, for there's likely more she will want to know and he really doesn't wish to dominate the conversation.

The thought occurred to Fee, the notion of this 'spell' or 'effect' or whatnot being flubbed-up. Truth-be-told, aside from being left in a birthday suit, a flub-up may yet be an improvement on some of the ensembles that she has pulled off of the racks at her favorite second-hand haunts. Fionnuala is still patting down the front of the shirt, chuckling softly to herself at the font… but she catches on quickly to what is said next. And hey, Moritz is smiling! She doesn't make guys smile all-that-often. "Well.. that would have been something else altogether. Uh—-" Yeah, 'uh'. Sure would fit well with such a pretty dress. "Good judgement call there, heh. Stub my toe on the first rock and shatter the works. This is better, believe me!" Fee indicates the replacement to her fugly PJs… though she inwardly wonders what became of them. Wouldn't hurt to ask.

Still a bit red, Fionnuala keeps pace with the walking pace once more, actually kinda grateful to be wearing shoes. "So… if you don't mind my asking…. where did the pajamas go? No loss, they were like… four bucks," Ludicrous. "Just curious is all. Are they off into some sort of subspace? Buried at sea?" She asks on in her chipper, lyrical way. Too chipper for nearly 1am.

A few moments of silence. Fionnuala asks shyly into the night… she didn't make it to prom, see. It's fun to speculate. "…. what color ball gown?"

Good luck with that, Moritz.

"I think light blue would have been my first choice. With white trim and sparkles. Always sparkles." he answers with a slight grin to himself. He adds, "It would have been cut low in the back with a nice diamond opening in the front that would rise up to your neck to encircle it leaving your shoulders bare. The gown would have flowed wide and down over your glass slippers." he paints a pretty picture and adds, "There would have even been a tiara with your hair up in huge loops. Speaking of loops, the earrings would have been diamond dangles along with bracelets of the same white gold and diamond style." He then glances over to the clothing she currently wears, "And like what you were wearing before into what you wear now, it's transmutation. Transmuting from one thing into another. Very much like your shape shift."

Then without skipping a beat, he looks up to the lighthouse and gives pause to his walking. "Fee, I'll see you back at the school. I need to attend something post haste."

Hands come from his pockets, wave to the side and a word is said, "portus". An aperature opens in the fabric of space into a pitch black darkness beyond.

The girl is caught, now, in an entirely different spell. No, she's not standing there haplessly imagining herself in such trappings, along with other such trivial details such as makeup, etc etc. Fee's artistic mind takes every eloquently spoken detail and commits it to a mental image.. were she to somehow project what she is envisioning, Moritz may be pleased to see that she is picking up what he is putting down. He is totally spot-on with one thing: talk to a crow shifter about pretty, shiny things…. you have an avid audience. She's still there, rapt and reddening, when the young man is suddenly called away.

Fionnuala follows his gaze to the lighthouse, and she quickly nods. "Oh.. ah, of course! Be safe, whatever it is." She says quickly, as visions of dresses spirit away from her mind's eye.

As he magicks himself away, it is time now for Fionnuala to get 'home' as well. With… a snazzy new shirt. And a new, most-intriguing acquaintance.

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