synopsychic | (no subject)

"Oh, you're a hobbit," Eliot says with interest, "Sort of."

Because if she'd read or seen Lord of the Rings, it was a fair bet she wasn't from Middle Earth. Also, she very much looks like a little girl, not a slightly differently proportioned smaller adult female.

He walks over, looking around, and sits down where she'd indicated. "This is cute."

It probably sounds condescending, but he means the comment genuinely enough.

The hobbit comment only gets a laugh from Pinya.
"Dave sprite called me that, I should probably research where it came from if two separate travellers have called me such!" She giggles as she wanders over to where she keeps her drinks.

"I suppose 'cute' is one word I associate with my room," she muses aloud, "Fit for purpose and fun sized, also. Did you want something to drink at all? Coffee, tea?" Now that she knows how to make the ingredients, she's fully stocked her barista-like bar.

He chuckles at that and shrugs, looking down at large hands and idly stretching his arms to feel the muscles bunch and relax. "Not a whole lot," he answers, clearly amused at Eliot's reaction. "A bit taller, a bit wider, but otherwise... No. I think if I tried for Bull's shape it might be a lot more different."

He pauses and thinks before lifting his hand a good foot above his own head. "Bull's about this tall. And his horns are huge, so it would definitely feel pretty top-heavy."

"What about the ahem?" Eliot asks, waggling his eyebrows. He is very curious if that feels wildly different to someone who's always had different equipment downstairs.

"It comes from Lord of the Rings. You haven't read it, then? Or watched it?" Eliot asks, still glancing around. "You wouldn't happen to have any wine, would you? If not, coffee's good."

"Honestly? Awkward," he snorts, not-so-subtly shifting his weight and feeling the very present 'ahem' in his trousers. "How you men function with your delicate bits dangling around like this... though I suppose having good underwear to 'hold it' helps."

Another shift, a thoughtful glance up. "Not terrible, though. I didn't have much chance to 'explore', but I'll be sure to." He flashes a wicked grin to Eliot and adds, "I based the ahem off Bull's, so there's a fair amount to 'explore'."

"Lord of the... No, I'm afraid nothing by that name exists in our real that you can read nor watch. I shall have to find out what it is, I haven't read a good book in a while now." She smiles, excited that she might actually be able to just... do that.

"I'm sure I can conjure something up for you," a gesture of the hand and a pair of delicate, wide based wine glasses appear from liminal matter.

"I don't suppose you've ever had Blue wine before? It's one of my brother's specialties. Though, if you've a favourite I shall endeavor to match your palette to the ones I know."

There are some Jaunts where flaunting strange powers might get us killed.

[ There's a flat, sort of disapproving feeling that comes with his words, like he's had to tell others this before. ]

"But you just mentioned it before I came over," Eliot says, eyebrows drawing down a bit. She'd come up with the name when he'd mentioned high fantasy, so she must know at least something about it, musn't she?

"And probably shot in the dark guessing about wine isn't the best way to start an evening," he adds, more comfortably. He can talk about wine for days. "I'm always up for something new ... is Blue the name of the vinter, or is it just wine that's blue for some reason?"

"Ah, yes, the thing that Davesprite told me of! My apologies, my head has been somewhat scattered as of late." It's not a lie either, she's spent a lot of time pondering the situation she's in and the last jaunt. Her own mental capabilities aren't quite back to where they should be. "He called me a Hobbit, too. I should really look that up soon if it's going to be a recurring theme." she smiles and rolls her eyes at herself.

"Ah, Blue Costa Del Sol Grapes are the ones that Vivi uses for his favourite wine, but through a happy accident during the fermentation process, he found a catalyst that changes the wine from a light pink to a vivid blue. It's been a local hit near the beaches ever since, and it's all in the preparation. Here," Pinya places the glasses down on the table, and scurries off to the cabinets, bringing out a small lemon, no bigger than her palm. It takes seconds for her to conjure the wine from liminal matter; a colourless glass bottle with a pale Rosé. There's a simple paper sticker on the front that simply reads 'Colada Curiosities: La Nocean Blue' in handwritten pink ink.

She uncorks and pours the wine like a pro, having been working with Vivido and his team closely to provide the best botanicals for his business. Gosh, she misses gardening. Maybe she'll make one here.

"I'll pour two glasses for you, one before, and one after!" She's getting excited, she hasn't had a chance to show off her family's wares for a while now, and it's nice to be able to do it with someone that doesn't know the Colada history.

The first glass of the Blue will taste smooth and refreshing, fruity hints and aromatics of birch and lavender. It's easy on the tongue and light-bodied.

"And now, the magic," She winks, cutting out a slice of the 'Lemon' she held before, although instead of being yellow inside, this one is a bright pink. "The happy accident came about when one of the Sylphs in the territory started to mess around with my citrus crops," She says as she squeezes the juice into the wine glass, and where it hits, it turns into a deep purple for a second before turning into a cerulean blue, like the waters of Costa Del Sol.

"You see, after the Calamity, our family's wine reserves were all destroyed, and so we were trying new things instead of churning out what we had done before. When I had delivered my cargo, I hadn't any idea that they'd been tampered with! Until I had a bottle and one of my own lemons sent back to me with a simple 'Try these together.' The La Nocean Sangria is so popular now."

The new, blue wine is almost like looking at liquid crystal. It's far crisper than the first glass but has new undertones of sweetness to it.

"Let me know what you think, and then we can get to cutting your hair." She laughs.

Who said anything about flaunting? I might have a flare for the dramatic, and I suppose some people have called me ostentatious (people with no taste, of course), but I'm not an idiot.

"It's actually not all that awkward for us, even without underwear," Eliot says, flapping one hand. "Probably because we're born with them and grow into the things."

Then Asa mentions the size, and the magician groans again, closing his eyes and leaning his head back in exasperation. "Of course you did. And I suppose you're going to go find a whole lot of willing and available people to help with that?"

If only Prompto were into threesomes. God.

"It might be a bit... intimidating. I'll see how Ambrose feels about it," he shrugs. It's a bit strange crossing his arms and not having breasts in the way, but it certainly does interesting things with all the thick muscle on display! "So, I take it you approve?"

"Are you kidding?" Eliot asks in genuine surprise, eyeing said muscle wistfully. "Of course I do. You look marvelous. But still quite like you, which is impressive - like your own brother, I guess."

He pauses, then narrows his eyes, cocking his head to one side. "Could you teach me how to do it?"

Thinking on it, Asa shrugs. "I don't see why not. It's colour magic, which was from one of the Jaunt worlds but I never went there. I think it's harder to pick up if you don't have a magical background, which obviously isn't the case for us, so it should be pretty straightforward. One thing though - once you've picked a colour, you can't change it."

Eliot tastes the first glass of wine with interest. He'll drink pretty much anything in a pinch, but he actually has a rather sophisticated palate, and it's with some experience and knowledge that he judges the first mouthful.

"Oh, that's a nice summer vintage," he says, raising his eyebrows a bit. Perfect for drinking out on the porch, or overlooking the Seine. Not that he's ever been to France.

He watches the transformation of the wine to blue with a kind of amused interest. It's a cute gimmick, but he wonders if it's going to actually do much besides ruin the flavor of the more delicate wine. To his surprise, it doesn't, it's still quite nice, though he does prefer the first.

"Hmmm ... I think it loses a bit of the subtlety of the first, but still very pleasant," the magician opines. "I'd drink either, but the first I'd bring to a party."

In theory, how would you explain escaping a fight unscathed?

Eliot considers this - he's always up for learning different kinds of magic, but he hasn't heard of this particular one.

"So tell me about it," he directs, as he starts to move around the kitchen, gathering what he needs to make a decent brunch - challah loaf, eggs, butter, cream, to start.

Show me the disaster that's your hair afterwards.

Trade secret. [pauses] Do you actually know how to fight?

Yes, I do. Anyone trained to fight would be able to tell if someone was not. This is why I ask what you might say if you escaped one unharmed. If I did not know you had magic, I would not believe your story.

"Isn't it good? I've got a whole rack of it back in my house, Vivi never lets it go unstocked." She snickers.

"I hadn't the time to prepare the full cocktail, but I can try later to make the full sangria. It's somewhat a task to get all the ingredients together for it." She thinks about the last time she had the time to have one. It must've been years now, between Ishgard and Doma.

"Anyhow, you came here to have a mane tamed. Shall I begin? What style are you after, or just... 'Shorter than this'?" She gets up on her stool, which will look comical to Elliot, as her little legs have to clamber up the rungs in it to get up to his head height.

"I only know a bit, but there are other colour mages here," he answers, coming to sit and watch Eliot. "If not mages, the books were brought here from that Jaunt. From what I can tell, each colour represents a vice or emotion as well as a range of themes for magic. The one I use is Violet, which is illusory, ambiguity, but also vanity and royalty. From what I gathered, it's a lot about deception and disguising, hiding in plain sight, but also unveiling and understanding arcane knowledge. Blue magic is more elemental, with power of water, air, lightning, but it also has to do with sorrow and grief, so I'm pretty sure you could work a spell playing on those emotions somehow. Green is nature, healing magic, youthfulness, and envy... and life, which I know you can manipulate for some basic necromancy."

Squinting in memory, he continues, "Then there's Yellow which is light, wealth, jealousy, all those good things. Red is fire, anger, war, blood, passion, which then leaves us with... Indigo, Rose and Orange. I those ones are a bit harder for me to remember, I think partly because they seem to be mixed, almost? I know Orange had to do with mischief, Rose with love, and Indigo was... wisdom? I think? I don't know, I could ask Ambrose to help me track down the books, if you wanted to study them properly."

"Violet does sound more like me," Eliot admits, after listening carefully to the Q'unari's explanation. "But I guess I should do some reading up, make sure I'm not missing out on something more fitting. I'm actually not very good at the illusory stuff - I was a physical kid at school, and that's always come easier to me. Shoving things, moving them around, that kind of thing."

He starts cutting the bread into thick, generous slices, gesturing so that the frying pan settles on the stove. A couple of slices of butter are settled in the bottom of the pan, and then Eliot starts cracking eggs by hand.

"So why'd you pick Violet?"

"Can't you just make them?" Eliot asks, since she'd made the other elements of the wine. But then, maybe that was some sort of innate talent, and not the shaping of liminal space, the way most of them learned to do over time.

He gallantly avoids snickering as she climbs the stool, and also refrains from just picking her up - that just seems rude. "And I don't really want to change styles, I just don't think I'm old and regal enough to pull off the medieval mane just yet."

Eliot briefly describes his original haircut, which consists of shorter side, a full, generous top with more in the front than back, and sharply delineated sideburns. The curls are definitely much longer than what he's describing, giving him a rakish, if somewhat sloppier look now.

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tfw you cant track your own damn threads

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No worries, I have totally done that, too.

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Re: No worries, I have totally done that, too.

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