I danced a tango with my hubris high on youth. We swept across the dance floor to subjective truth.

[undealt]

WHO || Gold, Belle, Faye, and an extra super special awesome OPEN section.
WHAT || Gold and Belle get hamburgers (IT'S NOT A DATE!! REALLY!!!), Gold teaches Faye how to use her magic for things other than lighting people on fire, and CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE.
WHERE || LONDON: A restaurant and then back at the castle.
WHEN || Some indeterminate time between my last open log and when everyone leaves for their missions.
HOW || PROSE OR ACTION SPAM HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT. The starters are actionspam, but seriously. Follow your heart, son.

BELLE |

It's totally not a date. You can tell, because a guy in a suit is actually being caught dead in a place called The Giraffe, because it seemed reasonably low-key enough for dinner and a nice chat about... trying to reverse the effects of the Veil. Yeah. But totally not a date.

Hamburgers are ordered. Chatting has commenced. Awesome.]

To be honest, I've started filling in the gaps in my memories with whatever I decide feels right at the time. It's quite effective until someone comes along who remembers more than I do and contradicts it. Though that's only happened once and I think I came out of the situation better than one might expect.

FAYE |

[As soon as Gold gets back from his meeting with Nessa, he leaves Faye a mesage to meet him in the library. The minute she arrives, he's waiting with Milah, who is currently sprawled out underneath a table- she's only as long as the length of the table, but still. CROCODILE UNDER A TABLE.]

I'm sure you're wondering why on earth I'd think to conduct a magic lesson in the library. Seems like an accident waiting to happen, doesn't it?

[You know, because you're a pyro...]

OPEN |

[And in this last option, you can pick Gold in one of two places:

(A. THE HALLWAYS. On his way back to his room. This is totally an excuse to maybe accidentally force someone into seeing his abomination of a room. idc.

(B. THE RECEPTIONIST DESK. Because I'm too lazy to throw him at the actual one and you know everyone wants to listen to his sexy Scottish accent answering phones all day.

Both locations will probably also contain (1) six foot long yellow crocodile.]

Comments

[undealt]

[And where there's smoke...

Gold vanishes to make sure she didn't light half a bookshelf on fire and returns with the bowl. idk I guess he was wearing those leather gloves he sometimes wears today so he isn't burning his fingers. He places the bowl on the table and beams.]

And that, my dear, is how it's done.

[reallywicked]

[She opens her eyes just as the bowl hits the table and watches the infant flames grow and take life. A slow smirk of a smile tugs at her lips, spreading wider as the fire grows.]

So... what's next? [Because she's not going to be satisfied with just that. She knows power is far more than sparking a bit of kindling.]

[undealt]

[Of course it is.]

Nothing terribly extravagant. [He knows exactly what's going on in that brain of hers. (sense motive 17)] But it's only the first lesson. The first rule of anything, but especially great drama, is start small and build.

[He leans on the table a bit, gesturing to the still smoldering flames in the bowl.] Now fire is your element, and it's always important to play to your strengths when you're just starting out, but I know you have more tricks than just that.

[reallywicked]

[She hasn't really known where to begin. She couldn't remember anything about her past, including her ability to cast, so now that she knew, it was all just trial and error. She looks over at a nearby light fixture. There's glass surrounding the actual lightbulb. She recalls a rhyme that came to mind during her squiring party. The words are quiet, hushed under her breath.]

Crystal glass, too frail and thin. Sharpest edge to slice the skin.

[She's not angry, and while she's got a better attitude, she's not quite as focused as she could be (concentration 11). Instead of shattering, a large crack crawls up the glass.]

[undealt]

[Gold blinks, since... he has never actually heard anyone actually say a spell before and glances up at the ceiling to see the crack.]

That's not one I've seen before. [He has a feeling he knows exactly what the spell was supposed to do. And he's impressed. The guy who can grind people's bones in their skin is impressed. Look, it's broken glass. Broken glass stings.] What was that incantation you used?

[reallywicked]

[She shrugs, though internally she is beaming at his reaction. When he questions her verbal component, she pauses, licking his lips idly as she thinks of how to explain it.]

Sometimes there are just words. I don't know where they come from, but when I say them, it tends to work out.

[undealt]

Like a focus. [There would be something here if he had memories- the importance of the written word in terms of spells and how he never even considered it verbally before. But he doesn't remember, so he just has some niggling sense of nostalgia.] Something to ensure there's no question of what you want the spell to do without actually giving away the intent.

[reallywicked]

Sure. [You're babbling, Gold. Faye is bored already.] I got pissed at that Deadpool guy and next thing I knew, those words were in my head. Same thing with the fire spell.

[The one that missed Rose, damnit.] When I needed it, it was there.

[undealt]

[Shut up, Faye. He's Yoda. He has to do this. It makes him seem wise and stuff.]

Seems like your magic's guiding you. You didn't just pick it up here, like I did.

[reallywicked]

That's a thing? [Picking up magic here is a concept Faye had not even considered. She's actually kind of offended that she may not be that special. Rude.] How?

[undealt]

As far as I know. [Or he just doesn't remember ever having magic. What a concept.] Maybe there's just something in certain people- a spark, if you will. Potential. Not everyone can play the violin beautifully, even if they practice their entire lives, but some can just pick up a bow one day and know intrinsically that this is what they're good at.

[reallywicked]

[She tries to imagine it like that, like a skill she just forgot she had.]

No. [For once the word isn't really defiant, just simply contrary. She's thoughtful, thinking about how it feels when she's casting, other than intoxicating.] Not like playing an instrument, like conducting an orchestra. It builds into something massive, but one player out of tune can ruin the melody.

[undealt]

That's even better. [Yeah, teacher's super impressed with you, Faye. FEEL HONORED.] And that's what I'm here to fix. Soon you won't have to concern yourself with any off-key orchestrations.

[reallywicked]

[She keeps her cool, but cannot help a smile that tugs at her lips because YAY APPROVAL!]

I like the sound of that. [This analogy is going too far.]