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[formidable]

Private AU/PSL RP, set anywhere from 1879 alternate history France to 21st century North America. A tale of two brothers and the witch and her golem who gets entangled in their lives. Urban fantasy, steampunk, magic, guns, and coffee collide. ➤ PART I ➢ "La Caravane".

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[infusion]

[HAHAHAHA FAT CHANCE]

I don't think I can get rid of the accent, but I think I'll be able to break the language barrier regardless!

Like it or not, on this continent, we find accents charming.

[pragnanz]

'Charming'. I'll be sure to keep my mouth shut, then, lest I shatter the illusion.

[ Please Claude, cooperate...but he does smile at a group of girls who walk by, sidesteps them so they can pass. Being personable is so hard. ]

[infusion]

I'm sure your vague insults and jibs will be forgiven because of your accent, Claude.

[Iona's just giving him a hard time... Which he deserves...

Anyways, Oren is keeping watch and there's no one in the hallways now that the group of girls and any other passing students are gone. Iona is rubbing her hands together, brows furrowed in concentration. To Envision something as complicated as this... Well, if she succeeds, it'll be easier from here on out, that's for sure.]

Ah, Gus, come over here, next to Claude please. This shouldn't take long at all.

[effet]

[ Once the halls empty, Gus bounds next to Claude and stands still, waiting for Iona to... actually, he has no idea what Iona's going to do. Wave a wand? Does she even have one?

Ah well. He'll just watch her expectantly. ]

Alright! Should I stay quiet, or...?

[infusion]

Just a second...

[Her hands are glowing (her right more than her left. She closes her eyes until the her magic is concentrated into her palms. Then both hands are closed except for two fingers on each and Iona proceeds to press said fingers on the brother's lips. The sensation is fuzzy, like a small electrical surge traveling past their lips and through their tongue and into their brains. The feeling disappears in an instant and Iona takes a step back, looking a little anxious.]

Done! Sorry, should have warned you about that.

[Her Envisioning of language is a sort of "transference." Oren nods approvingly.]

"Well done."

[pragnanz]

[ Always the tinkerer, Claude is distinctly not used to be the tinker-ee: the sudden sensation in his head prompts an involuntary press of his palm to his hair, a not-so-subtle wary look that he forgets to quell for a good few seconds.

Gus looks similarly confounded, but it's Claude that breaks the silence. ]

...Well? Should we go test to see if it works?

[infusion]

[With an enthusiastic nod, Iona points to the elevator.]

Let's go to the studio! You can see what we're working on and chat a little if you feel so inclined. Ah, but try to be discreet though?

Everyone's mostly looking forward to Oren delivering free food soooo... I guess the story we'll stick with for now is that you're his friends from France and he's just showing you around. Yeah!

[IT WORKS SHUT UP]

[effet]

[ Gus is alright with this alibi, but in a spectacular display of insensitivity: ]

Oren has friends?

[ GUS......... ]

1/2

[oren]

[SON DID YOU JUST GO THERE OREN'S JUST STANDING THERE STIFFLY, GRANTED HE ALWAYS DOES THAT, BUT HE LITERALLY IS JUST STANDING THERE AND BAD VIBES ARE...]

[infusion]

He does now!

[Cue Iona pushing Oren towards the elevator.]

C'mon, before the doors close please.

[effet]

[ He lets himself be corralled into the elevator, but he follows that up with: ]

What am I going to say if they ask me what me and Oren talk about?! What are we supposed to have in common?!

[infusion]

Er, food! Yeah, food! Since Oren makes great sweets and you're a sugar fiend!

[Oren mutters while in his corner of the elevator:]

"Not for long."

[effet]

I heard that, Oren...

[infusion]

[YEAH WELL, IGNORING....

The elevator goes up two floors before they get to Iona's classroom. She leads them down the hallway and the smell of oil paints and thinners permeates the air and flows out the open windows. David Bowie music blasts from someone's MP3 player and inside the painting studio, it's a mess of canvases, palettes, and brushes.

Some of her classmates have left the classroom, but a few have stayed behind, playing on their phones or continuing their work. One of them perks up at the sight of Oren and his lunch basket.]

"The Iron Chef has arrived!"

"Oh my GOD, took him long enough!!"

"Oren, when are you gonna go out on a date with me!"

"What is it today?? Oh wow, that's a lot of toast!"

"Huh, who are you guys?? You know Iona??"

[Iona looks at Claude and Gus, encouraging them with a tilt of her head to try and speak some English. The magic's supposed to work now after all!]

[effet]

[ Gus hardly needs to be prompted: he strides up towards the gaggle of girls and, surprisingly enough, bows as politely as can be expected of someone with a good upbringing. ]

Hello! [ He hopes that this doesn't end up being complete nonsense, that would be disappointing... ] My name is Gustave, call me Gus! Me and Oren are best friends.

[ Ah, he used his alias... also yeah Oren, BEST FRIENDS.

Meanwhile, Claude just. Lingers back, not because he's particularly shy (he isn't), but because he isn't interested in talking to a whole bunch of girls on his own accord... nerd. ]

[infusion]

[Oren is definitely going to replace the sugar in Gus's food... Just wait... Iona lets Oren and Gus talk to her classmates while she grabs two chairs and motions Claude to sit in one.]

You just let yourself get pulled along with Gus a lot don'tcha??

[pragnanz]

[ He's grateful for the seat, and he settles himself down, watches his brother make something up about how Oren totally crammed a whole baguette into his mouth that one time. ]

Me? No. This is the most time I've spent with him in a while.

[ A slow smile, a raise of the brow. ]

Never a dull moment with him, though.

[infusion]

Mm. So I gathered.

[Iona looks fondly at Oren and Gus (the former is passing out water and trying not respond to anything Gus says as the toast is being feasted on)]

It's been a while since I had this much fun actually or this much to look forward to.

[pragnanz]

Is that so? I would've imagined you'd be inundated with things to do, people to look forward to seeing. All of them of a magical, exciting persuasion.

[ Slightly condescending, but also slightly self-deprecating: he toes a fine line. ]

You've your family, too. I can't imagine you'd be bored.

[infusion]

Oh, well I do have some regulars that meet me at the cafe frequently. But sometimes they got their own things to deal with so I can't hang out with them all the time.

[Iona stretches her arms before setting them on her lap.]

I don't see my grandmother all that much. She's got her work and if you couldn't tell, Berna's her own kind of special. Also, it's hard to hang out with a grandparent who looks like she's my older sister.

My big brother's busy with his apprenticeship. [Solomon threw himself into mastering his magic especially after...] We still talk! But it's not the same as before.

[pragnanz]

[ Oh no, this is the slippery slope of emotions: the three things you should never talk about if you want to maintain polite distance is politics, morals, and family. Warning bells.

So, of course, like a big weenie... ]

But you have Oren.

[ ...he sidesteps. ]

[infusion]

Mm.

[Her left hand reaches up to instinctively touch her right arm. There are days when she can trick even herself into feeling a smooth surface instead of the rough stones embedded in her arm.]

He makes it easier.

[And there's no way she can ever repay a person like him, one who already gave 100% of himself and more.]

Oren was with Berna for a long time. It might not seem like it, but he's still getting used to me.

[pragnanz]

[ It's her openness that boggles Claude, how she's so willing to talk about something that is probably a mild point of discomfort or contention on her part. He's long since gotten used to people having acute aversions to anything that might make them seem anything less than perfectly put together, so her forthrightness is... uncomfortable. Strange. He knows it doesn't obligate him to talk about himself, but still. He doesn't know what to do with all of this, in all truth.

He folds his hands on his lap, watches Gus try to sketch a picture of Oren on someone's notepad. Gus makes it look easy, the whole living business.

He knows it's not. ]

And? Are you unhappy with that?

[infusion]

[She blinks at his question since it was kind of weird and no one had ever asked her that before.]

We didn't get along when we first met. [Iona shrugs lightly.] But it got better. A work in progress.

[The witch smiles as Oren gives some culinary advice to the poor students who need the survival cooking skills.]

I'm pretty happy with that.

[That was Iona; someone who found the work in progress, the present moment worth living for.]

[pragnanz]

Then there's nothing to worry about.

[ A slow shrug, a careful once-over. He watches her smile, and it confirms one thing: she's someone that'll probably continue doing so. ]

You lied. You've things to look forward to.