It can be easy or hard depending on the person's skill or needs. You can make golems that are only for one or two purposes, but a golem like the big guy over with multiple functions is pretty up there on the difficulty scale.
[He follows diligently, though his gaze does wander to the odd painting once in awhile. However, upon hearing Iona's comment, he looks in her direction.]
And how did that first meeting go?
[Michael probably would have been in awe, no matter his age.]
I don't think it fully hit me at that time she was my grandmother. To give you some context, she only looks like, several years older than me right now.
[Iona remembers going to a normal elementary school and her classmates either praising or complaining about their elderly relatives. And when she finally met Berna, she wasn't sure what to expect. White hair? Wrinkles? Cookies or being spoiled with toys?]
And, well, she's really affectionate in her own way.
[Michael looks surprised -- granted, he knew that Iona would age slowly (and by extension, likely her family as well), but for someone of 400 to only look a few years older than Iona does?
That must have been jarring. He's not sure how to process it, since the whole aging slowly is kind of new to him, too.
He just gives her a little smile, though.] Most grandmothers like to spoil their grandchildren.
[He opens his mouth to add something else, possibly about his own family, but before he can, he hears the sound of... distant voices? It's hard to make out in the ever-echoing abandoned building, but it's enough to give him pause. He speaks in a low tone.]
[Well, no time to hesitate, much less question it. Michael reaches out to grab her hand (it's getting easier and easier to make such intimate gesture with Iona without feeling embarrassed at this point, it just takes a bit of practice on his part), clasping his fingers around hers.
He tells himself no need to feel tense; they're just going to stealthily see what the noise is, and it'll end up being nothing even worth their notice. Right?]
[Oren's turned invisible himself and is nowhere to be seen. Iona, using her left hand, traces the air with her index finger and a glowing golden trail can be seen. It turns into something similar to a bubble that envelopes them both.]
There! Neat, huh? I don't cast that much magic around you, don't I?
[He watches with a sense of wonderment, which is only tempered by the situation they're in. Despite himself, he can't help but joke just a little around her.]
No, usually you're just being very... ah, forceful with that arm of yours.
[But hey, this invisibility thing is pretty nifty. She should use her magic around him more often.]
It's what I have to work with, don't I? Ah, but let's hush now...
[She puts a finger to her lips and then walks a little backwards into the wall so they won't be in the way of whoever decided to make a visit to this gallery as well.]
[Michael follows suit, reining in any other joking comments he might be inclined to make. Besides, he has to focus, now. Just in case the noise ends up leading to trouble -- he can only hope that isn't the case, though.
The draw nearer, slowly, quietly, until they finally reach the entrance to another larger gallery area. The voices grow louder, then, and more audible; Michael and Iona will likely be able to make out three figures and hear their statements clearly.
Perhaps the most disconcerting though, is that one of those individuals seems to be a holding an urn. Was it the one they were looking for? Michael narrows his eyes at the man, tall and possessing dark, short hair, trying to make him out better. He's standing next to another man, an inch or two shorter, with dirty blonde hair, and a girl. She looks particularly exasperated, and speaks next.]
[Lyra stands with her arms crossed, looking a bit impatient. Honestly, she has no idea why she's here -- it's not like they have any use for her powers in an abandoned museum.]
Are we done now? This place is creepy, dusty, and I think I've got a tiny piece of... rubble or something in my shoe.
[Morgan, on the other hand, appears far less annoyed, a bit harder to read than the other two. He has a vaguely amused smile on his face, if one squints hard enough. He also has his arms crossed, but in a more casual manner than Lyra.]
Why are you asking me, Lyra? This is Jacob's mission, remember? He had the privilege of choosing it, so we're following his lead this time.
[Jake, however, shushes them both, a hissing noise that escapes from between his teeth.]
Quiet, the both of you- I'm trying to think, here.
[He turns the urn around in his hands, looking it over. It looked so... mundane and not particularly special. Why was their client paying so much money for this piece of junk? Are they in the right place?]
It matches the description. But something doesn't feel right. It can't be this simple.
[But isn't that what you wanted, Jake? Easy money, a job where they don't have to get hurt or hurt anyone in return?]
Iona's doing that thing with her brows again, the worried furrowing and wrinkling her nose. She turns to Michael, the uncertainty being very clear on her face.]
This... This is going to be awkward. I think I know one of them.
[Michael creases his brows, trying to decide on what the best course of action might be.]
So, is that a good thing or a bad thing? [He glances at Morgan, the one that Iona described as no one liking him when he visited the cafe. He can't quite pinpoint it himself either, but there is something decidedly off about the guy.] Do you think we could just talk to them, explain the situation?
Uh, hello? It's an urn. [It's partly said to just annoy Jake, as she's smart enough to know what he's really asking.]
And by the way, since when did it matter? We're going to bring it back to the client, they're gonna be real happy about it -- happy enough to give us our cut of the pay. You're overthinking it too much, Jake.
[Morgan chimes in, since Jake seems to be so prone to vacillation and indecision.]
She's right, you know. Things become far less complicated when you refrain from asking needless questions. We might as well leave with our "treasure" in tow, and return it as soon as we're able.
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Your grandmother must be pretty skilled, then.
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Well, if she's over 400, she'd have to find her niche at some point.
[There's a thoughtful pause from her as she walks a little bit ahead, giving a glance to a faded portrait on the wall.]
... You know? I didn't meet her until I was about 10 years old.
uuuum dw y u eat my notif
And how did that first meeting go?
[Michael probably would have been in awe, no matter his age.]
gently shakes dw
[Iona remembers going to a normal elementary school and her classmates either praising or complaining about their elderly relatives. And when she finally met Berna, she wasn't sure what to expect. White hair? Wrinkles? Cookies or being spoiled with toys?]
And, well, she's really affectionate in her own way.
[So the spoiling part isn't too off.]
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That must have been jarring. He's not sure how to process it, since the whole aging slowly is kind of new to him, too.
He just gives her a little smile, though.] Most grandmothers like to spoil their grandchildren.
[He opens his mouth to add something else, possibly about his own family, but before he can, he hears the sound of... distant voices? It's hard to make out in the ever-echoing abandoned building, but it's enough to give him pause. He speaks in a low tone.]
I thought we were the only ones here?
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We're supposed to be? Who else would be in here...?
[Is there a wall or something they can hide behind? Or rather...]
Here, take my hand and stay quiet. We're going invisible.
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[Well, no time to hesitate, much less question it. Michael reaches out to grab her hand (it's getting easier and easier to make such intimate gesture with Iona without feeling embarrassed at this point, it just takes a bit of practice on his part), clasping his fingers around hers.
He tells himself no need to feel tense; they're just going to stealthily see what the noise is, and it'll end up being nothing even worth their notice. Right?]
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There! Neat, huh? I don't cast that much magic around you, don't I?
[No, she just punches things...]
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No, usually you're just being very... ah, forceful with that arm of yours.
[But hey, this invisibility thing is pretty nifty. She should use her magic around him more often.]
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It's what I have to work with, don't I? Ah, but let's hush now...
[She puts a finger to her lips and then walks a little backwards into the wall so they won't be in the way of whoever decided to make a visit to this gallery as well.]
1/4?? hoo boy
The draw nearer, slowly, quietly, until they finally reach the entrance to another larger gallery area. The voices grow louder, then, and more audible; Michael and Iona will likely be able to make out three figures and hear their statements clearly.
Perhaps the most disconcerting though, is that one of those individuals seems to be a holding an urn. Was it the one they were looking for? Michael narrows his eyes at the man, tall and possessing dark, short hair, trying to make him out better. He's standing next to another man, an inch or two shorter, with dirty blonde hair, and a girl. She looks particularly exasperated, and speaks next.]
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Are we done now? This place is creepy, dusty, and I think I've got a tiny piece of... rubble or something in my shoe.
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Why are you asking me, Lyra? This is Jacob's mission, remember? He had the privilege of choosing it, so we're following his lead this time.
[How cute.]
done!!!
Quiet, the both of you- I'm trying to think, here.
[He turns the urn around in his hands, looking it over. It looked so... mundane and not particularly special. Why was their client paying so much money for this piece of junk? Are they in the right place?]
It matches the description. But something doesn't feel right. It can't be this simple.
[But isn't that what you wanted, Jake? Easy money, a job where they don't have to get hurt or hurt anyone in return?]
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[Oh indeed. Hm. HMMMMM.
Iona's doing that thing with her brows again, the worried furrowing and wrinkling her nose. She turns to Michael, the uncertainty being very clear on her face.]
This... This is going to be awkward. I think I know one of them.
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Which one? [He looks back at the group, not sure what to make of them, or why they're even here.] How do you know them?
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[Iona points to Morgan though.]
I've met him though. He was a customer at the Grind. He's only been there once though.
[Iona shakes her head.]
No one really liked him. It's kind of hard to put my finger on why though.
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[Oh, thanks Oren. Even though he's also invisible, he's visible to Iona and Michael. He points to Lyra and Jacob.]
Acquainted with him.
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So, is that a good thing or a bad thing? [He glances at Morgan, the one that Iona described as no one liking him when he visited the cafe. He can't quite pinpoint it himself either, but there is something decidedly off about the guy.] Do you think we could just talk to them, explain the situation?
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[Iona, your boyfriend works at your cafe, geez...]
Ah, but we can listen in on them for another minute. We can gauge what we can do from there and follow them in the meanwhile.
1/?? idek anymore
He remains quiet, and equally uncertain, as he listens in further. The taller, dark-haired man speaks again, and Michael eavesdrops quite intently.]
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You sure we weren't given any other details as to what this thing is supposed to be?
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And by the way, since when did it matter? We're going to bring it back to the client, they're gonna be real happy about it -- happy enough to give us our cut of the pay. You're overthinking it too much, Jake.
done!
She's right, you know. Things become far less complicated when you refrain from asking needless questions. We might as well leave with our "treasure" in tow, and return it as soon as we're able.
[It's the obvious solution, to him.]
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1/??
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done
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1/?
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done!!!
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1/?
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done
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1/3
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AFTER A 1000 YEARS
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