text | un: off scarlet

[westviews]

I took Rathakku a message on behalf of the king a few days ago.

"A few dozens, strong. Containable. The fortress occupies them."

He said Deimar can keep half.

Interesting, isn't it? Anyone want to guess what this could be about?

[Not trying to stir the pot here, but there's a reason she didn't share the entirety of the message with Rathakku. And one more thing:]

Also... he's disgusting. I don't recommend trying to get an audience with that thing.

[[ooc: Backdated to the 7th, after her curse has ended. If you want to thread out or handwave an encounter with her during that time (she was probably suspiciously skittish), feel free to send me a message! Otherwise feel free to have your characters chat here.]]

Comments

[slippin]

[ Nacho's intervention does get Jimmy to delete the series of questions he's typing and say instead: ] Let's talk face to face.

If you wanna.

[westviews]

Sure. I'll go to you. Where are you at?

when you're too tired to look at the setting page

[slippin]

Crossing, by the guy selling rope. You'll hear him. [ And then they can go somewhere else! Because Nacho is reading this. ]

[westviews]

There in fifteen.

[And maybe she'll buy some rope for funsies, too.]

[slippin]

[ The rope peddler is loud, as intimated, and also makes up on-the-spot rhymes (some better than others) when hawking his wares—which may be why Jimmy picked him. Jimmy himself is there in his ratty Alem-provided attire, inspecting coils of rope with an interest that isn't entirely feigned. ]

Oh, it's you. Hey. [ A pinprick of anger at the thought of sending someone who just got here to face down a death lord, but he doesn't dwell on it. Not like there's anything he can do about it. He selects a thick coil of rope, bristling with fibers, and holds it up next to her. ] I think it's your color. [ It's the color of rope.

A pause. The rope is returned to its rightful place. With an anxious half-laugh: ] I still don't know—were you kidding around?

[westviews]

[Wanda approaches looking tired. Being cursed for a few days wears on someone like staying up too late might. Or hey, maybe it's the whole siege that has pale circles under her eyes and her hair a little frizzy, but who knows.]

Hey.

[The rope is... maybe near the color of her hair, if she's had a tussle in the mud. And if you squint. She watches him return the rope, looking a little baffled by the entirety of Jimmy.]

... kidding around about what part?

[slippin]

[ A moment of inarticulate confusion—Jimmy's eyes widen, his mouth screwing up into an expression half pained and half incredulous. He stares at her like she's some incomprehensible equation (which is to say, almost any equation). He sighs out his nose. ]

The [ His hands clench into fists, then open in a controlled splay of fingers. His voice dips low. ] curse. The evil death lord curse?

[westviews]

[Wanda regards him thoughtfully as she crosses her arms. Her fingers flex where they rest a long the inside of her bicep.]

I wish I was. It wasn't my idea of a good time.

[Don't ask her how she figured out she had been cursed.]

Why would you think I was kidding?

[slippin]

[ But how did she figure out—

No. Maybe later. ] Because you were so— [ This time he looks to her for help, searching her face—spotting all the markers of a sleepless night (or five) with a pang of displaced guilt. ] You were acting like it was nothing. And then I thought, well, maybe she doesn't wanna talk about it, but then...why talk about it?

[ Also: it's completely, totally insane. But for once Jimmy lets the thing that goes without saying go unsaid. ]

[westviews]

[She stares back at him for a long moment, trying to decipher what he's trying to get at.

And then the lightbulb goes off, and she gets it. There's a look of understanding on her face before she nods.]

Magic. You're not familiar with it. [Or he is, and it's more complicated than that.]

What exactly did you do before you found yourself here?

[slippin]

[ After the handful of seconds of what some might call consideration and Jimmy would call suspense, he stares at her blankly. Obviously he's not familiar with it. He's so unfamiliar with it he hasn't even tried to pass himself off as a wizard or warlock or owner of a goose that lays gold eggs. Hell, the first thing he and Wanda did together was run from a ghost.

Her question meets with a slight pause. His face, usually legible as a billboard, closes off a little. ] I was a lawyer. But don't—if you're gonna try to cook up some custom lawyer metaphor for magic, that's very thoughtful and all but I think we've both been through enough already. [ And, you know, the last explanation he heard left him quietly horrified. ]

[westviews]

[Not just unfamiliar with magic. Maybe. She hesitates before saying,]

If magic frightens you, you're smart. It should.

[And he's spared because she's not good at metaphors.]

Did something happen to you?

[Or is it just something primal, like a fear of spiders or snakes or other things that can cause harm?]

[slippin]

[ That, too, comes out of left field, and in the interests of hiding whatever dumb look is, at this point, probably on his face to stay—Jimmy glances at the rope seller, who's inched closer than he was a few minutes ago and seems a tad too interested in their conversation.

Jimmy looks back to Wanda. ] We, uh— [ Like a flipped switch, his demeanor changes, brightens. He projects, though he doesn't...well, maybe he overdoes it. Some things are subjective. ] I hear there's a real bargain on flatbread over yonder.

[ He points and takes off walking at about the same time, waits until they've come out on the other side of a crush of people to say: ] Are you asking if I've been...ha, no, this is actually how I look. [ And talk. And exist.

Please laugh.

After a too-long pause and with a bit of a grimace: ] I think at the most I've been, uh, mildly enchanted. In the bad way.

[westviews]

[There's no way this guy doesn't shit his pants if she does anything magical in the next moment. As tempting as it is, because some part of it would strike her as immaturely funny, she doesn't want to make him afraid of her. Wanda manages to look vaguely concerned, nodding--not cursed to look how he does, got it--and then she shrugs.]

I'm sorry that happened to you. It's never nice, having magic used on you against your will or knowing.

[Welcome to a source of her guilt. Did she create a whole town of people just like him? And what she did was far from mild.]

If it helps, unless someone is very, very determined. Enchantments tend to be temporary.