what brings you here?

[small_magics]

Isibel lives in her enchanted village, in a hollowed and conveniently-shifting great tree. She travels from it frequently, when she has a new enchantment or elfspell designed that will help someone, or when she meets with the leaders of this or that culture to learn more about their needs, or when someone accepts her offer of torching. The population of Thilanushinyel is not as large as that of Origin, and it may even contain fewer political units, but certainly there are more species; she has a steep learning curve and she throws herself into it.

Today, she is at home. She is not in deep meditation, but she might look like it, eyes closed, floating crosslegged in the air, not paying attention to the weight of the clothes on her body or the wreath of sunny yellow-berried blue-leafed holly resting on her hair, just thinking about hurricanes and the most efficient way to prevent them from forming over the sea. (She can channel immense spells. She is not sure how immense, and it would be very dangerous to lose hold of one. She retains some concern for limiting the size of her enchantments.)

When she is busy with something she cannot interrupt, her door is locked. Today it is not. There were no hurricanes when she last checked, and if any form in the next few hours, she will be able to address them on the spot, she knows; this spell is not urgent on that scale.

If anyone needs her they may come in.

Comments

[small_magics]

"It is! Thank you."

[pythbox]

He grins. "There's more where that came from, believe me."

[small_magics]

"I have a very long to-do list."

[pythbox]

"It's about to get longer," Lycaelon predicts.

This turns out to be extremely true.

He has been a lot of places, and seen a lot of kinds of people, and healed many of them from injury or illness that would have killed them if he hadn't been there. And in between these events, he has spent a lot of time alone in various kinds of wilderness. He is personally familiar with every climate on the continent he calls home, from the Madiran Desert to the Lost Lands of the north.

After several hours of rambling discourse on the subject of people and their preferences and problems, he concludes an explanation of centaur architecture and stretches. "About time for me to hit the hay," he says. "We can pick this up tomorrow."

[small_magics]

"Very well," agrees Isibel, rising to her feet. "You can brainphone me when you are ready to talk more."

[pythbox]

"Sounds good," he yawns.

[small_magics]

Isibel teleports away.

[wildlymagical]

The next morning, about an hour after dawn, he brainphones her.

[G'morning.]

[small_magics]

[Good morning.]

[wildlymagical]

[Ready for more interesting stories about far-off places?]

[small_magics]

[Yes.] And Isibel appears at his door, and knocks.

[wildlymagical]

Lycaelon opens it. "C'mon in," he says cheerfully. "I made tea. I didn't make it very well, but I made it."

[small_magics]

"I am sure it will be fine," laughs Isibel, stepping inside.

[wildlymagical]

"Well, you're welcome to try it."

He sits down and picks up his own cup of tea, gesturing to where the teapot sits beside an empty cup.

[small_magics]

She pours herself some tea and tastes it.

[wildlymagical]

It is imperfectly brewed, but adequate.

[small_magics]

"In the future you may find it improved by waiting a little longer after the water boils to pour it."

[wildlymagical]

"I'll remember that," says Lycaelon. "Thanks. Anyway, where were we? Centaurs?"

[small_magics]

"Yes."

[wildlymagical]

"Right. After that is when I hiked up to the Lost Lands..."

And spent most of a year there, working both magically and physically to help life return to the mage-blasted ground. There are no thinking creatures in the Lost Lands anymore, although he says he found the ruins of several old villages - human, if he's any judge, and abandoned for hundreds of years at a bare minimum.

"It was the best time of my life. I want to go back someday," he says, smiling wistfully. "I know I'm probably more use as a healer, but clearing fouled springs and herding lost rainclouds with a mountain range between me and the nearest settlement suits me much better."

[small_magics]

"Hopefully you will not find your time in this village too crowded for comfort."

[wildlymagical]

He shrugs.

"I survived Armethalieh. This is easy in comparison. Although that reminds me - have you noticed that almost everything on this island is poisonous, venomous, or both? The whole balance of life here is strange."

[small_magics]

"Not everything is," says Isibel. "But I had noticed, yes. Nothing harmful will come into the village; most of it is not inclined to attack outside of it either."

[wildlymagical]

"I'll see if it needs any help while I'm here," he decides.

[small_magics]

"That is kind of you. Mind that you do not eat anything that will hurt you if you attempt to live off the land. There are booklets available that say what things here are safe to eat."