RP: Gaming Fox Girl Bath Water
Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
Synopsis: Ina and Lanlan decide that Blaires' entrance exam will just so happen to overlap with an errand they need to do. Funny that.
Hmail Intro
A butterfly colored mauve flutters close to Blaire, dangerously close for such a small, fragile thing. If not swatted or smashed, it will land on a finger or palm or some surface near enough to be easily adored. Here, the wings stop beating. A one-word question in glittery red ink is easy to spot: "Blaire?" Having found its destination, the bug by now recognized to obviously be made of paper, lies down and begins to unfold itself, revealing a letter.
"Dear Blaire,
Congratulations! You are the newest member of our mystical Mages Guild! Yet I have received no indication of an examination into your natural abilities. So it must be up to me.
Very well! I invite you to 1 Reverie Court in Cenril, no later than the third day of this month, where my apprentice Aya will greet you. I trust you recognize the great opportunity ahead of you, and that you will not delay.
Your Sublime Master, Lanlan
P.S. Bring an umbrella."
Below the message in empty space, is a stamped circle depicting the symbol of Arh'nuk
Ruined Castle
Blaire had kept the letter. She wasn't in the habit of keeping correspondence - if anything she was against that kind of sentimentalism - but it was a neat bit of magic and she'd decided to keep the device. If nothing else she could work on reverse engineering the spell. Which was why she stood folding it in her hands in front of 1 Reverie court while looking the place over. Her eyes scanning the view through literal rose-tinted glasses as she tried to get an idea of what to expect.
To say that Blaire stood out in Cenril was an understatement. And she certainly hadn't chosen to mute the volume of it, either. She'd come strutting down the road on (relatively small) platform heels, sporting inappropriately tight-fitting two-layer pants with a lower layer mimicking a dragon scale pattern and an upper layer of soft black leather mimicking riding chaps. She'd matched it with a black and silver corset and a marching band jacket in black, white and red. Complete with matching hat. Even the hand she reached out to knock with was clad in studded finger-less leather gloves.
Yes, hello. Vailkrin by way of Vhys calling.
Ina would be a terrible host if she allowed their potential protege to be left to their own devices. Thus, even as Blaire makes her approach- the foxkin is busy scooping together some last-minute preparations. Questionable preparations. Ina, after all, was supposed to be Aya- a humble little bumpkin from somewhere in the vicinity of Xalious. On the aesthetic side of things, this means Ina's a bit taller than normal, sitting at 5'5, and her normally pale complexion's been fittingly altered to a farmer's tan. Her facial features are likewise different, framed by short yet unruly locks of russet red hair- and made all the more endearing by a bit of baby fat and freckles to add a bit more youth. That, and to distract a bit from the vivid green of her eyes. In fact, distracting from those is also why her ears- already rounded to be more like an arctic fox, are exaggerated to a degree to be a bit larger and fluffier. Between all of that, and her straw hat, coveralls and oversized gardening gloves combo- Aya looks more like she ought to be tending to the garden, than a mage's apprentice.
And it's not like what she's dragging along is going to do much to dissuade from that impression, either- given she comes bearing a pair of piping hot pies. One is literally just made of slightly crispy pigeons- but the other is, well. It's made of salamander meat. Specifically from Lumps' tail, after the obese lizard somehow wedged into a window.
Whatever. The point is- enjoy your terrible food options, Blaire. "Howdy." Aya waves- awkwardly, one of the pies threatening to spill out of her hands in the process. "And, welcome" There's a pause, the cogs in her brain turning, before she finally adds, "I reckon you're the recruit?" That's sufficiently country, right?
||Lately many parts of Cenril were quiet. A lonely sort of silence brought about by an otherworldly cold and the curse that accompanied it. So people just didn’t go outside anymore. Unless they were dead. The castle seemed to reflect Cenril’s circumstances. The stonework that was still standing was jagged and heavily weathered, and it looked abandoned. It probably should’ve been abandoned. Once inside, things only improved slightly. Ina would lead Blaire through a mazelike passage lit occasionally by dim will-o-wisps, navigating around rooms and corridors blocked off--not by any doors, but by yet -another- curse, potent enough to bring even powerful undead to their final end. Vakmatharas’ welcoming arms await any who linger in the darkened passages. But...you learn to live with it.
Then as if in a dream, the scenery changes abruptly. The masonry of the castle becomes more like biology, stonework replaced by coral of various vibrant colours and textures. Doorways seemingly brought about by natural luck. At the end of a path made to look like streaks of black sand carving through a beach of white, is a library. And here, among mostly empty shelves deceitfully stocked with illusive covers, is Lanlan.
Lanlan has his back to them when they enter, seeming to be preoccupied. But it allows them to admire how the forked tails of his coat seem to taper until they become ethereal, smoky, and dissipate. “Ah!” He turns around. “You’re Blaire? I was hoping you would be.” He pockets a scoped cylinder of some kind and offers her a hand sheathed in orange salamander scales. It’s especially warm. “It’s good to meet you,” he says, as if they hadn’t seen each other ever so briefly mere days ago. “You’ve met Aya...have you had a chance to talk? Sit! Why don’t you tell us about yourself? Your talents, your goals at our ‘Em-Jee’.” Conveniently, there are a few comfy chairs casually strewn about. Lanlan doesn’t sit, though. He conjures his black cane bedazzled with shooting stars and leans on it.
Blaire didn't so much freeze when she was greeted by a drawling bumpkin instead of a mage apprentice as slow down. Briefly set to a slower setting as she lowered her hand from knocking and processed the inconsistency between what she saw, what she knew, and what she saw with other senses. "Uh," she started, red eyes slipping from the girl's face to the pastries in her hands and back again. She knit her hand into a fist and propped it against her hip instead of offering it. Pies aren't good at handshakes. "Thanks."
She didn't seem to bothered by the trek through the castle to meet the sublime master, but took a odd interest in all sorts of things. Slowing her walk to gawk at apparently random points in space or miscellaneous objects. If anything she seemed mildly disappointed when the surroundings changed, not unimpressed exactly... but missing something about the previous situation.
"I'm Blaire." She confirmed for a greeting, taking Lanlan's hand, salamander glove and all. She didn't comment on whether she'd talked to Aya or not considering the host himself moved right past the question to ask at least three more. Right. So that's what they were doing. There was a reflexive frown on Blaire's boyish face, but it quickly smoothed out into some kind of practiced poker face of idle expressionlessness.
"I'm a Soulweaver." She started, easing into the offered seat with a kind of measured dignity that matched the way she'd naturally slipped into holding her shoulders. Falling back on childhood conditioning of 'proper form'. "It's a niche kind of magic. Extremely rare as it relies on inborn talents and a lot of conditioning. But the long and short of it would be...." She paused, eyeing Lanlan. Measuring. "Playing cats cradle with the strings that make up the tapestry of fate."
Ina, or rather, Aya in this case- seems altogether disappointed that her attempt at 'gracious host things' seems to have gone awry. So, sure, she does her best to get Blaire over towards Lanlan where the real 'meat' of this interview is meant to happen- but she's otherwise a bit distracted during the trek. At one point, she stumbles across one of the other apprentices along the way- and she takes that moment to foist the salamander meat pie onto them, "Share it with the others." The pigeon pie stays with her though- if only because it means she has something to nibble on once Lanlan begins grilling Blaire.
And really, she doesn't have much to interject at this point- other than a quick gesture of one hand across her throat at the mention of idle conversations. Well, that- and giving Lanlan an extremely quizzical look when it comes to the mention of soul-weaving and what it does.
Which means- well, for the sake of professionalism and keeping her cover- Ina's time is best served checking over the most recent edition of "Mustard, Jelly, Jams & Slime: A Collection on Cakes, Cooking & Combat".
Notably, while there are a number of things Ina does strictly to lend a bit of credence to a given facade- This is actually a bit of reading she's genuinely interested in.
Lanlan tilted his head curiously as she spoke. Curious, that she only answered one of his questions. But he seems to be experiencing some kind of jubilation in having Blaire here. A new admirer. “Soul weaving! That -is- rare,” he says, knowing it to be true because he’s never heard of it. And he shares the same look with Ina that she gives him. “I bet it must be helpful! We’ll have to see.” By now it’s occurred to him how rigid Blaire has become, and with what interest they scrutinize him. So early in their relationship, Lanlan can only assume that it's admiration. And a notion takes him suddenly. “Of course! You must be shy to be here with me in a home of such marvellous beauty. It came to me in a dream,” he says lying casually, “The best elegance of the sea arose to meet the sky. But my dreams come true, unlike most people’s. And I can see you appreciate style and beauty too,” he adds, referring to her strange clothes.
The tedious routine isn’t getting in the way of Lanlan collecting a new admirer, or so he hopes. But still, he was as committed to playing the role of Sublime Master as Ina was committed to the role of Trish pretending to be Aya. But in his experience, the answers to the questions didn’t matter. Just lie. But sublime masters and archmages liked to ask them, it was probably in the rules. “Oh, I know we’re going to be fast friends, just like Aya and I. We’ve just met and it feels like I’ve known her for so long! So don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get there too. And the best way to do that is by helping us with our Elemental problem.” He waits just a moment to notice if he’s piqued her interest or not. “In the bathhouse, here in Cenril, there is a water elemental who’s been tormenting the denizens of this place. I know what you’re thinking. Who cares! These mayflies should figure it out on their own. But sometimes we’re the only ones who can.”
Then Lanlan begins to walk past them, apparently ready enough to dive into the bathwater. But he stops. Maybe that was impolite to do to a new friend. “Do you...have any questions for me? Or Aya?”
||When Aya settled in to read and Lanlan started talking, Blaire took on a pensive silence. She wasn't sure what to make of this meeting, that much was blatantly obvious. And when the sublime master seemed more interested in talking about himself than hearing her answers to his questions, she just let him keep going. Her face a smooth and expressionless mask of polite listening.
The last bit, though, broke the mask into an expression that was unmistakable. "Sorry, what?" He'd said a lot of things in the last few sentences that was worth the reaction, though. So it may be worth elaborating on which bit she was questioning. "So we're here to undo a prank?" That wasn't exactly the sort of thing she'd expected her trials and duties for the guild to include.
Ina flicks over the page marked Fondant, scribbling in a few notes along the line of 'Essence Of Salamander/Fire related?' before skipping forward through her book to the segment on Gelatin's. The recent applications of combat cooking had been an altogether fun experiment, but there was so much to improve on, both in the overall versatility of her recipes, as well the overall flavour, "If yer' more partial ta' chocolate, we got some lying around." Less literally than it was- given they'd tasked some of the apprentices with scraping up some Ernest Flavoured fudge and storing it in a crate. Nothing like a little 'Essence D'archmage' to really add a bit of tang to a treat. "Uh. Wait. That wasn't the question, was it?" She pauses, glances back down at her book, and then perks up again, "Oh- right. Riiiiight. Well. It's not quite -that- simple." 'Aya' rolls her shoulders in a shrug, before clapping the book closed and pointing it at Blaire, "More, we need ta' -kill- a prank- And by we, I mean me. But I'm pretty bad at tha' whole." She makes a stabbing motion, facilitated slightly by the pie knife Proximal to her- though made far less intimidating by the bits of pie being flung around. "So -yfff, whff guf worff ta-" Yes, she's just decided now's a good time to eat the pie off said knife. "*Ahem* work ta do. Also, we get ta have a swim. So, y'know. Work hard. Play hard." She nods to herself, because this seems like the sort of buddy-buddy stuff you're supposed to do in an organization. That and Barbeques, wasn't it?
Lanlan tilted his head curiously. “A prank? No. The stupid and greedy humans wrongfully claimed the water spirit’s home and tactlessly built their putrid bathhouse over it,” he says, confident in his baseless assertion. “Normally, I’d prefer to placate the monster before ridding it from the world...but you heard Aya.” A pie crumb comes arcing at him and he magically deflects it with a sigh. “Crumbs, Aya,” he reminds her. But she won’t be picking up after herself. Not if Lump has anything to say about it. Like a dinner bell, Lanlan’s reminder awakens the ever-hungry salamander, who comes lumbering into the library to investigate. “Good boy. Lump has to eat more to regrow his tail,” says Lanlan, making excuses for his stump-tailed freeloader.
On his way out, Lanlan grabs one extra thing, brought to his hand from a shelf on the other side of the room. It’s a wooden oar, possibly once used for guiding a small canoe over water. Now its purpose is clearly altered, the ways listed plainly... if one were able to understand the ancient arcane script that’s been carved into every inch of it. “Come now, let us be mages together.” And he embarks for the bathhouse.
Blaire was briefly non-plussed by 'Aya's cut-in about chocolate. But didn't reel the conversation back to address it. Instead listening as the two rolled on down the line. She'd been about to question them - because there were a few things worth questioning - but had barely had time to open her mouth to speak when the salamander lumbered into view. The vampire blinked at the thing before sliding out of her chair to greet the creature like you might a cat or a dog. "Hey there handsome." She drawled at the creature.
Of course, she didn't have a long time to socialize with the lizard before Lanlan was already moving on. "Right. Magery." She agreed, straightening up to her full somewhat awkward height and adjusting her hat. "Let's hit the pool." She smirked a sharp-toothed smile at Aya.
Ina might be a bit delayed in leaving- mostly because she decides now's a good time to effectively ladle out the remains of her pie right into Lump's awaiting maw- and then toss in the tin for good measure. After waiting for the Salamander to finish happily crunching on the meal, she'd cup his cheeks in her hands and draw his face close for a brief cheek nuzzle, "Whossa Good Boy? You Are! Yes you-" Oh. everyone's already left the room. She glances back to Lump, and gives him a small tap to his side, "Be a good boy, and make sure to finish cleaning up downstairs- there's probably still some leftover treats." Almost guaranteed- it was such a mess.
That aside, she proceeded to hustle after the pair- with only a very brief secondary side trip so she can grab a pack with a change of clothes in it. Hence prepared, she hustles- confident that Lanlan's innate showmanship will ensure that she has ample time to catch up.
Lanlan is moving at a brisk pace, tapping the floor with his walking step only at every third step. “Oh, Aya, don’t forget to--” She’s gone. Lanlan puts his hands on his hips and looks at Blaire. “It’s okay,” he says with a malicious grin. “We can wait.” And as he stands with both hands on his cane, he begins to slouch. His back bends into a hunch and his bouncy elegant eyebrows begin to droop sadly, hanging down past his chin. His smile melts into a frown as wrinkles and seams gradually appear and then deepen. He subtly begins to shake, as if the mere act of standing was extremely taxing to a man his age.
Blaire took off striding like a woman on a mission. Heels clicked dramatically on the floor as she matched Lanlans pace, hips a-sway as part of the whole aesthetic. Only for the drama to drain from the scene immediately when Lanlan stopped, realizing Aya wasn't along. Blaire only sighed, rolled her eyes and propped her own fist against her hip in a mirror of the mage. Her attention on the way they'd come from. Though soon enough she glanced at the rapidly aging Lanlan with a sharp-toothed smirk at the rather childish bit of skullduggery. "If you crumble to dust, can I have all your stuff?" She drawled.
Ina is in the process of skittering over towards the pair when she catches sight of the Blaire and the almost desiccated-looking Old Lanlan. And frankly, the sights ghastly enough that were it not for Blaire's intact appearance- she would have hazarded a guess at this being one of the castle's 'Dead Zones'. Well, Death Zones. Horrendous concentrations of arcane decay -do- make for rather inactive areas, though.
Anyways- tangents aside, the fox realizes that she has to do something quickly! So she reaches into her pack, and ... stops herself. She -wants- to direly pull out some parchment, and interrogate Lanlan as to whether he has any words of wisdom to pass onto the minions that will be lost without him- but it's not 'appropriate'. Not in an 'It isn't right to call people that' type of way, however- more the, 'What Would Aya do?' In this case, this means making use of excitement, and then disappointment to his advantage, "Master Lanlan- You didn't wander into one of the closed-off halls while you were showing Ms. Blaire the faculties, did ya? I coulda' sworn you said we weren't to take detours through 'em." Sufficiently satisfied with her cover, she then allows herself a more genuine line of inquiry, "Or is that a glamour- or some sorta transmutation, perhaps?" One eye narrows at that last possibility, even as the other quirks up, "Ya aren't gonna need a shoulder ta' lean on the whole way there- are ya? Though I can provide one," A pause, "Sir." The foxkin -definitely- seems like she's got all her things together and is good to amble onwards. Perhaps overly so. Possibly because hanging around while Lump enjoys a Magically Enhanced Sugar High is something best left to the acolytes.
In any case, there's barely even a moment before her attention focuses on Blaire with a startling degree of intensity, "Arright! N' I gotta know. Very Important, even- Would ya' rather somethin' Citrus flavoured, Dark Hot Chocolate, or something spicier?" The fact that she can say this with a straight face is really sort of incredible, but she does seem to be waiting for an answer.
Lanlan’s neck creaked like an old door as it bent his head toward Blaire. He smiled toothlessly and spoke slowly. “..All my...stuff? We’re such good friends...and I won’t be needing it will I?” He chuckles and wheezes, taking his hands reluctantly off his walking stick. “Careful now, one fall and that’s it for me…” He puts his hands behind his back, hiding them from Blaire while he smiles anciently. When he brings them back around, they hold a pen and an official-looking document. “Luckily I brought my will with me! Just need to write it down for the solicitor and...eh...what was your name again? Blaire Something wasn’t it?”
Moments later, Aya catches up with them. He squints desperately at her. “Who…?” Then he produces some heavy, thick lenses, resting them on his nose and ears. Also from somewhere behind his back apparently. His eyes are magnificently magnified and they peer deep into Aya’s face. “Ah! Aya it’s you! Why...no I didn’t wander off...I waited here sooo long...and look! In all these years you haven’t aged a day!” He’s so excited he almost gets both feet off the ground at the same time. Then she asks Blaire something personal, and Lanlan can’t help but smack his drooling lips together at the prospect of something so delicate on his gums.
Blaire showed that same sharp smirk at Lanlan's continued theatrics. But seemed content to just let him keep the showmanship rolling on his lonesome rather than adding to the act. Save to correct him on the name. "Blaire? Not at all, sir. Though I can't blame you for being mistaken, seeing as I've got more than a little flair."
Aya arrived as if on cue to pick up the straight-man role, and did it admirably enough. Though rather than sending the group shuffling on, the foxkin made a rather tangential slash in the conversation that made the vampire's carefully groomed eyebrow disappear into her bangs. "Depends on the spice, I suppose." She played along without questioning the intent. "And how dark the chocolate is."
Ina is doing her best to take all this in stride, but Lanlan's illusion does seem to have left him locked in character- an outcome which wasn't exactly conducive to the business at hand. Which, yes, at least in the foxkins' mind- the question she'd posed was of the utmost importance. But what to do? She glances between Lanlan, then Blaire and back again, "Well, Master Lanlan- They do say a soak can put the life back into you, and you clearly look like you could use a bit more." She pauses, drops one of her hands into her sleeve so the fabric covers her fingers, and then reaches over to brush his eyebrows into a more presentable manner. "And hey- you can always tell us about the time you freed the Mage guild from the tyranny of . . . That guy." Haldavocado or something. That stated, the foxkin begins to move ahead, a beckoning motion aimed at the drow, as well as the vampiress, "Anyways, Not-Blaire. "The foxkins ears wiggle, a faint indication of her picking up on some of the conversation, "How familiar are ya with the mechanics of an elemental, n' have you ever fought or dealt with one?" There's a certain authority to the foxes question- but it's -entirely- undeserved. Just the practiced elocution of a hundred-year-old huckster in full swing. "n' ... And, how would you go about capturing one -alive- while keeping yourself safe from it at the same time." As The fox waits on an answer, she makes use of 'listening time' to begin rummaging certain things -out- of her bag, an assortment of small cartons gathered up- if only so she could deposit them on the first Apprentice they encounter. "Perfect."
||"Ah!" Lanlan exclaims when Blaire tells him he's mistaken. "Not Blaire? Seems I'd mistaken you for my friend. I should be more aware." He shakes his hands up and down, and his pen and paper return to dust, and are drawn up his sleeves. Then he inches forward, leaning on his cane again and moving so ponderously slow that Aya has time to address his weeping eyebrow without even moving. "You're right," he says to her, as he dares to endure her petting without recoil for the sake of the character. "A soak would be nice." Now his eyebrow is recalled to elegance. "You mean Haladavar, don't you! A funny thing about me and that old elf. In some ways, I was his apprentice, did you know that? Hmm." He chuckles and then degenerates into mumbles until they reach the outer doors. They open seemingly of their own volition. Lanlan takes a single step outside. At the same time, a violent gust of wind roils, shaking him up and twisting him about and seeming to blow the old right off of him.
He’s returned to his youth! As if nothing whatsoever has happened, he turns to Blaire. “I hope the weather isn’t too much for you. I could let you borrow my cane, if you wish?” He offers it to her with a mischievous grin. Whatever geriatric illusion he lost when he tumbled in the gust, Blaire seems to have found. Her skin’s become wrinkly, her hair wispy and white. Her cheeks sag into a countenance of evergreen grumpiness. Of course, she needn’t play along, and the illusion will quickly fade if she wills it. But the bathhouse is on the other side of the city.
Blaire was more than happy to resume her walk alongside the others on their way out of the building (finally) getting back on track. These two did seem particularly prone to sidetracking and rambling, and she was quickly learning to appreciate progress whenever it was being made. "I'm aware of what an elemental is. Come across one or two. But so far I've had a policy of avoiding tangling with anything that doesn't breathe, bleed, or is made of any of the four classical elements. If a fair fight is for suckers, I've certainly no desire to find out what going in at such a disadvantage would make me."
She reached up and pulled her hat low as they stepped outside again, as if to shield her eyes from the outdoor lighting even as she shrunk into her aged, decrepit form. Rather than be upset about the prank, she chose to turn it back on the prankster. "Not at all, dear. I already spent my supposedly ageless life waiting for you. I'm frightened to think how many of my infinite years I'd lose waiting for you to hand the stick over."
Ina glances from Lanlan over to Blaire, the most recent bit of magical shenanigans hard to miss. At this juncture the fox doesn't have too much to add, so she does the only thing that comes to mind- she gingerly waves a hand off in Blaires direction, as though it might ward away any vestigial bits of 'Fogey-ness' still lingering in the air. "Don't worry- I'll keep ja folks busy so ya don't have to debate over the finer points of how ya want ta' be handlin' his stave. Or, was-" Ina pauses, something at the tip of her tongue- only to end with an abrupt shake of her head. "Alright. So, Like we said- the goal here is to -capture- the thing. But that sorta means -surviving- it, too. Do you have anythin' in your repertoire that helps with that, or are ya strictly improvisin'?" Not that Ina's knocking improvisation- it's practically her bread and butter. But it -does- help to know if someone else has a plan, so she knows when things are completely off the rails.
Not that any of these contemplations are doing anything to hinder her pace. Frankly, now that they're out of the castle, and marching towards what is almost assuredly going to be a bad time- the foxkin actually seems -determined- to keep on the move. Possibly because it meant if things went completely pear-shaped and everything failed, it meant they had a headstart on a plucky rebound victory. ...Right? "...definitely how dat works." She blinks a bit, glances again between those present, and then ever so casually leans over towards Lanlan, "Ja got anythin' that can cancel -weight- by the way? Just...sorta occurred to me." Because hauling an angry water elemental definitely has logistical issues inherent to it.
Front of the Bath House
Sturdy walls of stone rise up from the rocky ground, held in place by many thick columns, the sides of which are covered with elaborate engravings of all nature. Scenes of relaxation and rest seem to be the most common, along with figures that could possibly be godly entities of some sort. Steam spills from the main entrance, carrying with it the scent of perfume and exotic flowers from far away lands. Water runs in rivulets down the stone steps, forming stagnant pools in the muddy earth below. Perhaps this bathhouse is a good place to relax, and you ponder stepping through the crimson curtain that is the only partition between it and here.
Lanlan doesn’t seem concerned that neither of the apprentices seem to know what they’re facing, beyond the slightest of theories. Then again, they don’t seem too affected either. “Knowingly entering the place of power of a being made from primordial energy and righteous fury,” ponders Lanlan with Blaire. “Why, that makes you so…so brave!” And he smiles cruelly.
But truly, he is elated to see Blaire embrace his shenanigans, even if they were used to tease him. “But being so advanced as you are, a slippery tile floor like the one in the bath, it’s something like your nemesis. Isn’t it? After you’ve fallen and can’t get up, it’ll be too late.” And he frowns mockingly, and is just about ready to drop it. Until Aya responds with her euphemism. “Aya!” He scolds, “Don’t be gross in front of the apprentice!” His delicate sensibilities have been ravaged. Now all the fun’s been had, and he’s practically silent the rest of the way. Except for the occasional tapping on of his cane on the cobbles.
When they’re nearing the bathhouse, Lanlan decides to grace Aya with an answer. “I can make it float if it’s in a container.” He looks her up and down with an appraiser’s eye. He’s seen her literally inflate. Almost like a balloon. “We’ll have to see.” They do eventually arrive at the bathhouse, and find it abandoned. The entrance closed and chained up. ‘Closed pending investigation’. Is what the sign says on the lock. It’s a decent-sized padlock, clearly designed with people in mind, not…water. Lanlan just waits here for the apprentices.
||"Depends on what you mean by 'in my repertoire'" Blair began, suddenly business-like as they took off towards the foul, surely heavily chlorinated lair of the fiend in question. For three people headed to the bathhouse, none of them looked particularly like they were itching for a swim. "Fateweaving has some useful tricks in a tussle. You can consider it a form of luck-bending magic if that helps wrap your head around it. I can all but guarantee a hit or a miss, given a proper chance. Good for keeping things moving a certain way or not moving at all, too." She rattled off, sounding more like she was weighing options on a restaurant's menu than discussing her mage craft's application in a brawl with an elemental force. "But it isn't a form of combat magic, by nature, and I don't have any of the tools designed to compensate for that, either. I'm walking into a knife fight with a letter opener, so I'm rather hoping the two are you are more expert at slitting throats in that analogy."
Ina's ears perk up when her name's mentioned, only to drop a bit following the admonishment. For like a second. Then her ears pop back up, one hand pressing over her chest as she does her best to look indignant, "Rude? Whatca- I just figured we had pressin' tasks at hand. Unless you're sayin' it's important she's shown how it's done-?" It's sort of impressive that she can say this with a straight face, and a complete air of sincerity in her voice. Still, the wind had been taken out of Lan's sails- which meant the subject was best abandoned. This also meant she was free to answer Blaires' semi-detailed description of her arcane arsenal. "So. Jus' ta clarify. Between the three of us- the act of properly containin' an amorphous and angry tub of water ... 's gonna be a lil tricky."
There'd been worse odds. The phoenix, honestly, had been a hazard and a half to contend with- and she'd at least brought -some- preparations. For instance, while Lanlan and Blaire weren't equipped to swim? Ina's brief sojourn for supplies had included a one-piece black and red striped swimsuit. That's right, the moment they arrived within the proximity of the bathhouse, she just took a side shimmy around the building- and got rid of the non-aquatic-themed outer layer- stuffing the lot of it into her pack "S'not quite a beach party,?" She pokes her head back around the corner, figuring she ought to clarify her request to Lan, "We're good then. I think I gotta' containment process. Bet." This bubbly reply is heralded by her scooting adjacent to the door to the bathhouse, so she can casually lean against it. "Oh, Master- you should show her that trick you do. And Maybe walk her through it. For things like this." Really- Ina's just trying to provide a reason for Blaire to lock over towards Lanlan, so she can speedrun picking the lock with her roguish talents. Provided she can open it within the timeframe that Blaire's distracted, she can then act properly surprised when Lanlan's done doing...whatever he decides to do.
||Unsurprisingly, Aya is only slightly deterred by Lanlan’s admonishment. By then the surprise against him has worn off, and he’s mollified therefore. “Look at her!” He declares to Ina. “She’s a veteran and knows better what to do than either of us. Isn’t that right, Madame?” He doesn’t expect an answer, of course. He was content to listen to her explain her specialty. Though it wasn’t to him she was talking, Lanlan was listening to the testimony. Of course, he was! It was his pretend job to know. “I wonder which of us,” he muses at the end, “is the better gambler. Or should I say worst?” Presumably, they’d each prefer to cheat as much as possible, and leave as little to chance as they could. “Aya, isn’t there a casino nearby? Imagine the fun we’d have if we just tried our best to win! Why, they’d be forced to give us the keys!” And then she was gone. Disappearing and reappearing with a new look. And next, when they encounter the lock, she wants him to occupy Blaire with something. Anything, by the sound of it. “Oh!” This character of Aya’s doesn’t know how to open locks, only Trish does.
“Very well. Blaire, if you would? Look! Into my eyes…” In the dreary winter night, the eyes would suddenly be a deep, glowing red, almost commanding attention. And though they didn’t change in size or depth, within them Blaire would see…nothing in particular in one, and a black slithering…something in the other. And then she’d see Lanlan grow impatient, abruptly turn and tell Aya, “Alright move I have the key.” And the lock would become undone. “What we do next can only be done by the heartless,” Lanlan would announce. “So I shan’t be needing this.” And he would turn back around, slide his hand under his ribs, and effortlessly remove his own beating heart. “I shall trust you to keep it safe,” he says, putting his own heart in her hand. Then the next time she blinks, her hand would be empty, the illusion being ended. Or maybe she saw through it the whole time, and she would’ve seen Lanlan just waiting with Ina by the gate, waiting for her to get it open while a mix of mist and smoke vibrated and mumbled senselessly at her. Either way, by now? The lock is picked.
He slid his cane into his sleeve, where it seemed to be entirely consumed. And from the other, his ornately carved oar seemed to generate from nothing. “Remember to be wary of a current where there shouldn’t be. Or of an eddy that flows the wrong way away from the rest. And try not to lose your feet or you’ll drown.” After that brief run of advice, he becomes suddenly jubilant. “Okay, my friends! Are you both as excited as me?” He suddenly tucks his feet up as if he was sitting, and uses the oar to propel himself as if in a boat, though he was levitating on air, into the dark tile tunnel of the bathhouse. “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily…”
||Considering she was largely strapped in leathers, Blaire wasn't exactly showing up to go swimming, no. But then, it wasn't as if she'd been warned to come ready for such a thing. And what's more, if a water elemental had you gripped... whether you'd managed to slap on a swimsuit or not probably wasn't going to matter too much. If anything, Ina's change of attire only made the vampire reprise the sharp-toothed smirk from before without further comment.
The showmanship of the would-be distraction made Blaire raise a carefully groomed eyebrow, but otherwise, she quietly followed direction. Locking eyes with Lanlan with an air of idly curiosity and mild impatience. For all intents and purposes, she certainly seemed to be taken in by the spell, as she showed no signs of seeing through it or disbelieving the series of events she was shown.
"I'd rather stay out of the water entirely if I can help it." She said, dubiously, before shooting a glance at Ina and following the singing mage inside. The click of her shoes becomes rather like a beat to the song. Whereas Lanlan was making a fool of himself the whole time, Blaire seemed alert at the very least. Adjusting her hat on her head as her eyes stared into the darkness ahead, her free hand tugging on invisible cords.
Public Bath Changing Room
Inlets, draped in secrecy by a set of plush curtains, lie off to the sides of this hall. Fresh, white towels sit on wood-crafted benches along the walls, though the piles always seem to be dwindling low. Men, women, elves, and more disturbingly, dwarves, appear from behind these drapes of secrecy, wrapped in soft linens. Some even have their feet adorned in comfortable pairs of slippers. Prices for these must be slightly exaggerated, as many of the guests walk barefoot over the threshold and disappear into northern and southern doors. Powerful gusts of steam emanate from the northern doorway, smelling of flowers and perfume. A perfectly constructed arch leads east, out from this house of repose.
Ina seems utterly immune to the idea that taking a dip in the waters could be seen as a gesture tantamount to suicide. If anything, she seems to be absolutely giddy at the prospect- though not to the point where she fails to replace the padlock on the door, close it, and then shut the doors behind. Sure- it wasn't going to seal the door, but unless someone scrutinized the place, things would look mostly as they were.
But that's not what's important. What's imperative in this moment is the manner in which the foxkin makes a prompt about-face and patters down the bathhouse halls and towards the pool. The emptiness allows the acoustics of her footfalls to noisily echo, though nowhere near as much as her jubilant follow-up, "Do they have a sauna here, d'ya wonder? Might be good after we deal with our critter."
Without waiting for an answer, she putters further down the hallway, sticking her nose into a number of alcoves in search of at least something of interest. "Changing Room. Changin' room. ....Staff room?" Honestly, if she was on her own, it would have potentially been spooky, given the interior was dim- with only slivers of natural light filtering through. "POOL!" Yup. At the very end of the hall and around the corner stretched out an expansive pool, which despite all odds, seemed to be fairly clean.
With a nod to herself, she sets her pack down against the wall, and begins to remove a few small cartons from within its depths. If someone decides to get inquisitive, well, they're essentially hot chocolate-scented bath bombs.
Public Baths
The grandeur and glamour of Cenril is on full display in this magnificent public bath house. The entirety of the grandiose hall is decked out in beautiful mosaic tiles of the most bright and vivid cerulean, emerald green, ruby red linked and linked with finest gold filigree. The centre piece of the room is undoubtedly the “Maximo pool”, which is around two hundred feet long and surrounded by large gleaming metallic tubs of hot bubbling water, most of which are filled by relaxing occupants. Most of the tubs are supplied with scented soaps and bath salts filling the area with relaxing aromas of mint, lavender and citrus fruits. Those lucky few within the tubs sigh loudly as attendants cater to their every whim and need. At the centre of the pool is a stone dragon head, carefully crafted to appear realistic yet entirely non threatening, the odd contraption slowly turns in a perfect circle with water gushing from deep within and across its toothy maw, filling the pool with fresh sparkling water from an underground spring. It would be supremely tempting to stay here and forget ones cares amongst the bubbles but for those who wish to depart there is a southern exit and a large wooden door with a sign that suggests there is a sauna in the easternmost chamber.
Lanlan drifts along, reclining on an invisible floating sofa with one knee bent toward the ceiling and the other flat and straight, drawing circles with the tip of his toe clothed in soft leather. When he arrives at the pool, he too notices how remarkably clean the water is. In fact, the entire facility is too pristine to be a place humans visit. He drifts over the deepest end and gazes into it. All he can see is his reflection. At first. But doesn't something start to coil around the back of his head? No. While one hand holds up his cheek, the other reaches curiously down to his sunken self. He recoils his hand as his eyebrows tremble, and he looks back at Ina.
Something stirs over that way. A tendril of near sentience, or reaching it, flows invisibly but for tiny ripples on the surface. It courses toward her and stops inquisitively. 'With what intention does it adulterate my body,' it wonders. The tendril engulfs the substance and splashes them out of the pool. Then the consciousness beneath the ripples waits; a test.
Blaire wasn't quite taken in by the spooky atmosphere, whether that was because of the company or because of the nature of the company - between Lanlan and Ina there wasn't much reverence - was left to the imagination. But what she was, was cautious. Trailing somewhat behind the others while her fingers twisted and tugged in odd patterns.
As they came to the actual pool, though, she took a page out of Lanlan's book and kept off the ground. While she couldn't actually levitate with the ease of the superior mage, she had a trick of her own to employ. She simply stepped into the air and came up standing on thin red strings - like a rope tower at a playground - and simply used them as a staircase to climb off the ground. Each 'rope' appearing and vanishing as she stepped onto it.
"So, stupid question." Her voice magnified by the emptiness, as if it wasn't already characteristic for a woman and an elf. "Do we actually know if this thing is hostile?"
Ina's hand dextrously darts out, her bath bombs retrieved from the air with all due haste- only to be flung back up within a matter of moments. Not haphazardly though, as the foxkin simply proceeds to engage in a bit of impromptu juggling- so as to keep her items out of the inquisitive elementals' reach. Which, admittedly- is pretty confounding for it, since while it's certainly expelled the substance, it's now being kept just out of 'limbs' reach.
The water shudders for a moment, before a second line of solidified water emerges from the surface of the pool, its attempt at knocking the cartons aside foiled when Ina upgrades her clowning around to juggling the objects behind her back. "Oh. I mean. That's -definitely- a question. I'm not sure it's stupid. Obviously, Maybe- since they closed this place down, and it's been padlocked fer' a while. But, then, you are n- eeeeeeeeeewp " Ah, yes, maybe provoking the elemental wasn't the best of plans. After all, while she'd managed to keep the bath bombs out of its way- when it promptly redirected its efforts towards coiling about her waist and pulling her in. Well. It's a good thing she's dressed for the occasion.
What's less great, is the fact that the quartet of slightly sodden cartons clatter to the ground. "Wait. I'm not re-" Glub, Glub Glub. Yeah, it's just drowning her right now. No biggy.
Lanlan dangles a hand mere inches above the water while Ina probes the monster's composure. It retaliates! But gently. Tossing out Ina's surprise and no more. "Ahh," exclaims Lanlan. "It was you that made the cesspool glisten!" The monster must not hear him, or must not understand. "Nature is always hostile to something," Lanlan says, attempting to sound poignant. Now it's truly being hostile to Ina, stretching a current away from the body and around Ina, reeling her into an enveloping embrace and dragging her to the bottom of the pool.
Obviously, Lanlan means to help her! But she’s a strange creature. It would hardly surprise him if he discovered for example, that she can breathe underwater. Should he wait to find out or risk wasting effort? He’ll test another theory first. He didn’t know much about the psychology or culture of his enemy. A weakness. He needed to understand. The essence of probably his every success was knowing how to instigate. But from the pristine maintenance of the bathhouse, to the violent undertow that pulled the foxkin, he gleaned a small insight. “A better custodian than the unsavoury humans deserve,” he says, with a small regret for what must be done.
“Blaire, if you would? Drop a line for Aya.” Possibly he didn’t need to offer this, and Blaire would figure a way, or even Aya. But he had himself occupied with something else now. Between the tiles embedded firmly to the floor, was rough mortar holding them in place. As he imagined it, a mild petrichor diffused from the ones on the opposite side of the room they entered in, or as far away from Ina as possible. The mortar went from clean white to dingy gray, and darkening still as the pleasant smell becomes a sour musk. The floor started to bleed from all its cracks and intelligently coagulate into a moving, melting, filth-monster. “I say let the humans keep their ick.” The creature Lanlan created from dream-stuff hardly moved, but to seep, but already a sludge worm slithered over the pool’s lip and touched the surface of the water. It seemed to infect it, spreading earthy brown muck in water-colour patterns into the formerly clear water. But mostly contained and concentrated where it touches. For now. The threat looms.
Lanlan hoped their meticulous janitor would sense in his magic the smell and look and feel of a mess far grosser than Ina. Then would it divert itself away from her, flushing its body toward the contamination and leaving her in a shallow pool that lets her breathe or even touch the ground?
||For all her professed inexperience - or at least unsuitability - Blaire at least did not lose her head when everything started happening at once. She didn't have any snappish commentary or hare-brained schemes. She just had simple reactions and solutions. Well. Simple being a relative term.
"On it." She braced her feet against the 'ropes' and pivoted backwards like a mime tugging on a line. Only as she did the line in question manifested. A twined rope of red and screaming yellow lines weaving together in a cable until they connected to Aya. Or maybe they came from her in the first place? Either way, Blair tugged and hauled on that lifeline like a sailor pulling a fellow out of the drink with the customary outright inappropriate physical strength of a vampire.
"You know." She grunted, fighting the current. "Breathing is greatly overrated, I think." This wouldn't have been a problem if the other two hadn't insisted on needing it.
Ina has faith In Lanlan to do -something-, but the simple fact of the matter is she isn't sure -when- his plan is going to come to fruition. And given that she's currently being drowned as some sort of pre-emptive measure by a neat-freak obsessed puddle- Well, she can be forgiven for partly eschewing the role of 'Damsel In Distress'. Which is to say, Ina does what she does best: she adapts to the situation. In as literal a sense of possible, given the manner in which her form begins to shudder, and ripple. It's foxkin transformation at its finest- as the guise of 'Aya' gives way to a not-so-teenage turtle. Sure, it's not quite able to -breathe- underwater, but, holding her breath for a really long time works well enough. Plus, it means all she has to do is curl up into her shell and wait for her fearless leader's plan.
Or for Blaire to inelegantly launch her out of the pool with the aid of excessive vampire strength. Frankly, it's a good thing she's attached to the vampiress by those lines- as it spares Ina from just slamming into a wall, even if it does essentially force the strain of -preventing- that kind of calamity on the arcane seamstress. Being hucked around -isn't- the foxes idea of a fun time, however- so after a few more moments of that nonsense, she figured then would be as good a time as any to swap things up again, her amphibious form swapped up to an even -smaller- guise better suited to extricating herself from being accidentally pelted into a wall. Because really- nothing quite screams 'well-prepared' like shrinking down to a reddish-brown flying squirrel, and using Blaire's hair as a landing pad. "Jus' ... uh' ... gimme a sec to get my bearings." This is fine. This is safe. Fairly literally, really, given the elemental hasn't really given two damns about the fox ever since she's been plucked free and it's had a heap of -murk- to contend with. Though, the fact that it seems to be angrily swelling up might be indicative that it's getting ready to excise its current problems in a more wholesale manner. "So- I forgot ta' ask, but, can ya cool something down all arcane-like? Might help with phase, uh, ...three? Of the plan. Of which there is definitely a plan. Just as soon as we get phase one ta' take." Squirrely Aya makes a non-distinct gesture towards the beat-up boxed bath bombs, Seemingly unaware that it's doubtlessly muddled by her overall size, her choice of speaking podium, and the fact that she's chittering it all out at a rapid pace.
||Immediately upon detecting the imaginary contamination, the entity in the bathwater begins attempting to flush out whatever happens to seep into the pool with splashes of increasing violence. The ick proves tenacious, oozing persistently from the muddy brown mass just above the edge. The water thrashes against the confines of its swimming pool, only sometimes meeting Lanlan where he lazily levitates above the formerly still surface. Not one to tempt drowning, he channels power into the insignia chained to his pocket by tiny silver links. A drow -vagrant’s- insignia. No longer powered by any house’s magic, since his was inexplicably decimated some time ago. It's powered by him now. His eyebrows, hair, and clothes are suddenly pulled straight up. And then the rest of him. His levitation spell dissipates, and his feet cling to the ceiling, as if by gravity.
While it has become more dangerous for everyone near the thrashing pond, its focus has been drawn away from Ina, and she’s reeled into safety by Blaire. But not as herself, and Lanlan is surprised yet again. Fortunately, his efforts to save someone who may not have needed saving are not wasted. A thought occurs to him…but it’ll have to wait. Until after the elemental is moulded to their purpose. Finding the sludge too resilient to expunge with half-measures, the bathwater coagulates. Shrinking its mass away from the edges of the pool, drawing it all up to the center and arching above the ick like a coiled fist. It’ll plunge the infection through the ceramic and stone-backed wall if need be.
Lanlan meanwhile, is cued by Ina to retrieve the bath bombs. And he finds them, navigating a detour along the ceiling, down the sheer face of the wall, and back on the ground again. However, he won’t deign to stoop. He flicks his wrist and where his hand was empty there is a glass wand. He bends it finger over finger over finger, wrapping the scented, dusty, baubles in a barely visible net of silk-magic. As if from a tiny trebuchet, they’re flung once more into the elemental and sucked up in its torrent. Just in time for it to smash into the waiting blob of imaginary filth and decay.
The cataclysmic cascade crushes straight through the illusion, which despite its apparent mass, offers no resistance whatsoever. The wall behind it offers infinitely more. Yet it fails to uphold its duty as guard against the eyes and elements of the world outside. Rocks and debris litter the bathwater further. “Arcane coolness? How about divine?” An otherworldly chill slithers through the newly punctured hole in the wall. A stinging contrast to the balmy and humid ambience formerly maintained by the murky custodian.
||Sometimes, having no idea who your allies are or what they can do is actually an asset. Leads to an open mind. Whatever happened, or was happened, Blaire was determined to simply roll with it. And she was doing a good job of it. When she pulled a turtle out of the water, she barely batted an eye. Instead, she gave the wire a slack before letting it vanish entirely and prepared to catch Turtle-aya. Bracing against her own suspension. Only she didn't need to catch anything. Shapeshifting was a neat trick, really.
"So we're... what?" She questions, in the brief breathing room as the water creature is busy being bombarded and absolutely frothing with the continued attempt to expel bath bombs and foam from its body even as more is added and what's already rapidly dissolves and expands. Almost like a strange aquatic fireworks show, really. "Diluting it so it freezes easier?" Because it was going to take a lot more than some chill to actually properly freeze a body of water quite that size and, most importantly, quite that mobile. It wasn't exactly going to kindly hold still to go rigid.
".... I might have an idea." Why was she taking her jacket off?
Aya skitters down from the top of Blaire's head and onto her shoulder, one tiny paw held in front of her face as though she were trying to shield her eyes from whatever dust and detritus might have plumed into the air after the elemental quite literally bodied the wall. "Issa good start, L- Master Lanlan. But not quite there." There's a pause, which allows for Blaire's particular line of question- which, in turn, transitions the fox(squirrel)kin back into showmanship mode. "What? No. Thas' basic. Dun be basic. Why would I carry somethin' all tha' way from the castle jus' ta dilute 'em. Why was I askin'-you- such curious little questions." Even as squirrely Aya speaks, she begins to expand a little, her face, and stomach giving her the appearance of an overstuffed plush toy. Only, there's a bit of a dull red glow building up in her cheeks and throat- and she's getting notably warmer. "We're gonna' be cookin'- so we jus' ready'ing up how to cool it down." Blaire removing her jacket forces Ina to awkwardly hop and balance on the vampiress's shoulder, forcing out a small hiccuped lick of flame- though she somehow manages to keep her balance. "But 'm always open to improv'. Jus' do me a tiny favour n' get ready ta huck me over n' reel me back in." Yeah- really, it might be a good idea, because not only is she beginning to look like she's mistaken a set of embers for acorns- the Elementals' attention and form has begun to slide over towards the invasive trio. Whilst it's certainly a primal creature, a basic sense of cause and effect has stirred within its mind- and the fact that all its woes started with their arrival has allowed it to formulate the basic arithmetic of 'remove troublemakers=remove trouble'. And, whilst it might be having a bit of trouble expelling the bath bombs now that they've burst and begun to dissolve- it's less hindered when it comes to hucking the chunks of wall that had wound up immersed in its mess. Which is to say, Ina is -extra- glad she's a small target once a chunk of stone whistles by her head.
Lanlan was unable to look away from Aya as she shifted form to form. Where Blaire didn’t seem to notice, Lanlan narrowed his eyes, intent on perceiving all he could about the change. This was a much more drastic adaptation than the usual disguises, and he wondered if she was capable of such a thing. Soon it would be time to understand Ina. But not right now. Now, Blaire was seeming, by his estimation to get a little impatient at being kept out of the loop. He smirked a little as Aya circumvented answering her question. She loved surprises! Maybe even as much as him. “Aya!” He exclaims with poorly manifested sternness when she calls Blaire basic. “Don’t be mean!” Though he’s clearly amused by the casual lack of formality, especially when Blaire herself seems so uptight. It wasn’t Aya’s attitude that needed checking though. The elemental was in a full-blown tantrum, even while ‘defeating’ its nemesis the muck monster.
No longer was it content dealing with messes stain by stain, that contamination would’ve been catastrophic to its purpose, its existence, and its body. Preventative measures now. Homicidal measures. It began its sanitization process, hurling boulders with rapids to batter those three germs until they stopped moving. Crush them before they could multiply. Well, too late.
Lanlan shifted gears a little. He couldn’t see, or maybe he couldn’t understand the mechanisms behind the elemental’s countenance. Yet he could feel its hatred. Lanlan almost always knows when he gets to someone, he’s become attuned to animosity against him, you could say. And this puddle has it. For all of them. Perfect. With a subtle flickering of his long and prehensile eyebrows, the humidity in the room coagulates and takes the form of a man wearing a tacky trenchcoat and inexplicable ears. The dust agrees to disguise itself like a foxkin. The wind is bent and revealed to live in the shape of a strangely dressed vampire. While the illusionist seems to step back and into nothing, melding into the colours behind him, the illusions are scapegoats for the violence of a crashing wave. And the illusions divide again, surrounding the elemental and pulling its animosity apart while it recklessly engages each and every copy at once.
"Yeah, alright." Blaire wasn't about to start asking questions now when just rolling with the punches was working so much better. She'd had ideas she could've used. But without the room to discuss or suggest and the other two rapidly deploying their own solutions without bothering to or feeling a need for discourse or any particular cohesion, she thought better of the prospect and just played along. Like being on stage. 'Yes and...' thank you, m'am.
So, Ina wanted a throw. And she was getting it. Rather than remaining where she was, half straddling half tethered, Blaire made use of the illusions Lanlan threw up as a distraction - Did this thing even use light to see? Did it have a mind? How does illusory images work on water? Well, this was why she was the apprentice, presumably - to get out of the exposed position in the air and instead used one of the lines she'd been standing on to zip-line onto the ground where she could use the lip of the pool as a kind of improvised obstacle. Anything to slow a possible rush-down at least a little.
The actual throwing was simple! She was already grasping the cord of blindingly yellow thread that connected to Ina and clearly knew how to throw a weight on a rope. Or at least, the way she swung Ina above her head like a rope hammer to throw on cue seemed well practiced. A good ol' wind up before, on whatever signal she swung her arm around in a wider loop and quite literally whipped Ina at the elemental (possibly into, even) before waiting for... you know... something... to reel her back in again.
Ina should probably be a bit more concerned at this situation- if only because of the sheer abundance of wood and stone the elemental hurls at her illusory effigy. It's -probably- more due to it being formed of dust, rather than any sort of particular hatred for the fox. "Everyones a critic." If there was meant to be a follow-up to that remark, she's not in any position to make it- given the abrupt manner in which she's hucked forward leaves her bracing to catch a breath. Thankfully, -Luckily-, even- a bit of wind catches beneath her squirrely arms, filling the wings and narrowly lifting her out of the way of a direct impact. Rather, she coasts just over the surface- a glowing red ball of fur that seems to be perpetually threatened by the waves forming in her wake.
At this juncture, the elementals definitely displeased, its attempts at demolishing the elusive illusions now beginning to fall to the wayside with this new-but-old problem cropping back up. That said, it's doubtful it can properly fathom -what- it's in for, given that embered look Ina's been sporting hits it's peak. One aquatic appendage reaches over to encircle her form- before it's abruptly overtaken by a concentrated gout of flame. Foxfire, seemingly unhindered by her size or state as a rodent, erupts from her mouth with such ferocity that the debris in the air begins to smoulder and catch fire. Beneath the abrupt onslaught, the elementals' limb warps, parts of it drooping, thinning, or outright dissipating.
As that geyser of channelled flame spreads over its form, the contents of the bath bomb begin to agitate and meld with the elementals form- first turning its coloration murky, before it begins to grow a far more solid brown colour. And the smell? Weirdly, there's a sort of rich saccharine scent- like something you'd find at a cafe. Ina doesn't get a chance to do the taste test, however- as Blaire rather abruptly yanks the foxkin back. An effort that sends her whipping at, and then -past- the vampire's head.
This latter bit of happenstance might be closer to a desperate maneuver in the foxkin's part, given the elemental is literally hot on her tail- and aiming to plant a flavoured fist smack dab at the position Ina had been occupying a moment ago. Which, well- Blaire is still occupying.
Lanlan had more questions, but they’d have to wait til later, as Aya seamlessly evolved into a firebreathing flying squirrel and was being flailed toward him like a tiny, fluffy wrecking ball. But no less deadly than one made of lead, perhaps. Nobody’s fault, he was keeping a super low profile, they couldn’t even see him. Which meant Aya wouldn’t try to change course or even brace herself. “...!” He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s the ambience, he doesn’t talk. So he just protects his face with his hands and closes his eyes. Aya probably smacks into him. But he doesn’t react, he just breathes. But his breath gives life to a hissing ember of white-hot flame, no bigger than a grapefruit. It flickers through the air, light as a feather, drifting and turning whimsically. Until it lands on the jerk in a trenchcoat and explodes into a twisting inferno. Within it, one can see Lanlan’s illusion turn black, before dissolving into dust and dissipating. It spreads to his other illusions and the blaze grows stronger, warming up the room (apparently) in seconds. And as if intelligently, it grows toward the Bathwater, crackling and creeping around it, trying to menace it toward the crumbling hole into the Winter air the bathwater made only moments ago.
Blaire was not a cool girl, even if she fancied herself one. She looked at explosions. Which meant she was busy gaping at the absolute insanity of the unfurling inferno as the elemenal-turned-bubbling blob-monster flailed like a man on fire (you try to stay calm when the fabric that makes up your body transmutes and explodes!) and did whatever it could to 1: Keep from becoming an immobile pile of gloop 2: get away. The vampire was still watching the thing surge (awkwardly, stop and start) towards the self-made escape route when the stretched-out tentacle-fist gave her the kind of uppercut that made even the most passive audience hear bells. Blaire was hurled backwards and upwards, ragdolling like a comedy sketch. Good thing undeath comes with superhuman durability. Man. Chores were dangerous.
Ina doesn't quite -bounce- off Lanlan, what happens is she thwaps face-first into the back of Lanlan's hands, before dejectedly sliding off them in what can only be described as an almost leaf-like descent to the ground. That is, until what meagre bits of wind beneath her wings give out entirely, and she just flops to the floor with an undignified 'Oof'. That said, while she may be suffering for her art- the outcome is still preferable to the water elementals fate. Sure, it might have gotten a hit in on Blaire that'd make even the partially flattened Ina wince, but there's an outright shudder that accompanies the sheer number of crackles that erupt in the air. Frigid winter air, and a recently boiled chocolate mixture conspire together to harden the elemental at an altogether alarming rate- to the degree that its outstretched arm locks up mid-recoil. There's a weird sort of art to it- an angry bubble for a fist leading to a flattened disc where the rest of the limb had snapped back to the main body. "H'okay. ...Okay. Now part two. Movin' it, because -it- ain't going nowhere. ...That's uh, all on you guise, I think."
Lanlan obviously doesn't let Ina hit the ground. Not purposely at least. After his impeccable deflection against the fuzzy and light projectile, he snatches her out of mid-air as she lists toward the floor. A moment after an invisible force buoys her, he reveals himself. "No, no Aya. This is all part of the evaluation! I can only help so much, you know. You two have to do the rest." Lanlan's not touching that dirty, sticky jello. "Just...turn into a land-whale and carry it in your mouth." He walks past the jello, toward the shortcut outside. "I have to come up with everything...?" He shakes his head grumpily as the Jellomental inches almost imperceptibly toward him. With malice. Glacier-slow malice.