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Blackstone Foundry and Forge, Wednesday

When Fjord had woken up that morning, he was relieved to find that his sword had returned to normal. Yes, even when he summoned the pact weapon, it was back to barnacles and seawater, with maybe only the faintest trace of peppermint smell still wafting through the air as he dismissed it again.

The smudges of soot on his face were mildly perplexing, but he shrugged it off easily enough. If that was the price to pay to have sharp things again, he'd live with it. He was working over a forge today, anyway. Soot happened.

Being pelted with chunks of fruit-shaped marzipan on his way to the forge, on the other hand, was an experience he could have done without. Couldn't win them all, he supposed.

Then again, he had an armload of the things to deposit on an unused counter when he got in. So, that was food for the day handled, apparently.

[OOC: Open!]

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"I mean." Beau shrugged broadly and ate another piece of marzipan. "They'd be useful at least? It's not quite as cold as it gets at home but, you know, winter."

She'd complain that they were itchy whether they were or weren't.

"I know, winter," Fjord agreed. He offered her a grin. "Tell you what, if the island forces a pair of mittens on you, drinks'll be on me that night."

No promises he wouldn't just sit back and be amused while she tried to open her beer, though.

He'd absolutely deserve the amusement for putting up with her. Even Beau might agree he'd have earned it.

She opened her mouth, snapped it shut, and squinted at him with a dubious expression on her face. "Mmmmmm, that sounds like there's a catch there."

"No catch," Fjord replied, all innocence. "If the mittens are my fault, it's really the least I can do, isn't it?"

The 'not actually laughing' part would take a bit more effort.

"Uh huh," Beau said, clearly not believing that there would be no catch. "Mittens, though, I mean, really? Why not fingerless gloves or something? Those are cool."

"Cool and practical," Fjord agreed easily. "Nothing this month has been practical yet, why would it start now?"

Beau blinked a couple of times before sighing very loudly.

“You and your damn logic, man — no, I like that, it’s good, keep it up.” She pulled another piece of marzipan out of her pocket and shoved the whole thing in her mouth, so when she continued talking everything was muffled. “Kinda keeps things interesting, at least, not knowing what weird shit’s gonna happen next. Little bit of capriciousness just to mix it up. I’m into it.”

You know, until it screwed her over personally, and then she’d be yelling.

Sorry, Beau. Fjord had the intelligence to logic his way through this sort of thing, but lacked the wisdom, sometimes, to know better than to share it aloud.

But hey, at least December would be interesting, right?

"Like a little spontaneity in your life, hm? I suppose at least the island is interesting this month. Less need to try to convince people on the mainland that you're of an age to enjoy your drink just to stave off the boredom, at least for a while."

Beau gave him the kind of look that protested ‘heeeeeeeey!’ loudly without actually having to say it.

“I mean. Little less sparkly stuff falling from the sky, little more egg nog? This is a super aggressively cheerful winter holiday. I kinda don’t trust that.”

The cheerful part, not the aggressive part, of course.

"I'm enjoying the free food," Fjord admitted, reaching for an item from his own marzipan pile. "But I could have done without the reindeer. I'm not certain what, exactly, they have to do with any of it."

In fairness, he didn't understand any of it, and hadn't really asked around much yet.

“Yeah, I should probably get someone to explain all that,” Beau said absently, cracking her knuckles . . . which wasn’t consciously intended to imply how she planned to get that information ~~and she didn’t get that skill yet anyway~~, but was probably not reassuring anyway. “You ever get, like, youi feel like you’ve got the hang of this place and then some whole new weird and confusing shit comes along?”

Yeah, that was never going to go away, Beau. Better get used to it.

Fjord raised his eyebrows and gave her an amused smile.

"Yeah, I figured I had at one point, and then I spent a week as a snake. I'm pretty sure from there I just gave up pretending I understand anything."

This island was basically a metaphor for his life, at this point. With more glitter, though.

Beau grunted in amusement. "Heh. That almost sounds kinda deep, you know. I mean, if you were going for that sort of thing."

"I wasn't," Fjord noted, "but I'll happily take credit all the same." He tossed a marzipan lemon from hand to hand idly. "I figure I won't understand what this place is about until it puts us through something challenging. This is just confusing, at worst."

"I could go for something to fight," Beau muttered. To the surprise of no one. "It's been a while."

And then she took a very aggressive bite out of a marzipan strawberry, because she was just eating her feelings now.

"Haven't found anybody around the island to spar yet? Or were you hoping for something you don't have to hold back on?"

He'd found a sparring partner easily enough, himself. After all, he was rooming with an elf whose sword was nearly the same size he was. But hand-to-hand? Possibly harder.

"Nah, I mean . . ." Beau sighed. "Sparring, okay, that's practice. But it's never the same when you have to hold back, 'cause otherwise it's like weird when you have to see them the next day . . ."

She was still talking about sparring, really, though it probably gave some insight into her approach to other activities.

"Totally different feel from just cracking some asshole's skull when they really deserve it."

"Yeah, I can see how that would differ."

Fjord was doing an admirable job of taking this conversation in stride, honestly. You don't become a sailor without getting used to a little bloodshed now and then.

"Well, with any luck, the island will provide something for you to beat on without reservations before long."

"Gotta be someone I can talk into making that happen, right? There's always someone," Beau muttered. "So like do you get all itchy or something if you go too long without casting a spell?"

"Itchy? Nah," Fjord replied, shaking his head. "I'm, ah, not quite as versed in that sort of thing as one might think."

He was a wee baby warlock, yet!

"Why, 'cause --" Beau snapped her fingers. "Oh, right, you're like a magic newbie, sorta."

Like you could talk, baby monk.

"Sorta," Fjord agreed with a wry pull to his lips. "Haven't really had much experience with that sort of thing. It's why I wanted to go to the Academy. Figure it out. Become... less new, I suppose."

"Yeah, I get that." Beau scratched at the back of her neck. "Institutionalized education's overrated if you ask me, but magic as a self-learning thing is probably pretty tricky." Sure, for wizards maybe.

Yeah, Fjord was less interested in an education, and more interested in answers.

The magic itself just seemed to come.

"It's, ah... not that tricky," he hedged. "Just new. I want to know more about it."

That was an important distinction. Knowing about it. Figuring out what the hell sat at the root of it all.

Get some answers.

Beau spread her hands, a conciliatory gesture that might almost have been surprising except for how she somehow still managed to look like she might haul off and punch someone in the middle of it.

"Knowledge? Definitely not underrated. I kinda respect that, actually."

Effusive praise from her!

Blackstone Foundry and Forge, Wednesday

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