RP: Settling into The Chateau

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: Where Lumps is a cute lil Chonky Boi. And something is said that is -hilarious-, in hindsight.

Ruined Castle, Cenril

Lanlan pushes his way into the fully furbished forge, built in the room that leads to lava, and a now fully enclosed salamander pen. They can burrow into the heat-softened mud...but they’re happier being livestock. Until it's bedtime and they wake up with no tail sometimes. But hey! One of them gets to hang out up here with the cool kids! Lucky! “Trish! Are you in here? I need you!” The place was probably a mess so Lanlan didn’t even go past the threshold. “We have to go into town.”

Ina doesn't immediately answer- but then, her hands are rather full. Figuratively, given that she's currently in the process of testing out what can best be described as SCIENCE. ...Though, at worst- it might be summed up as recklessly endangering the premise, given that she'd gotten one of the students to fetch the crate of Phoenix Metal. Seriously, all those days spent in time-out, and the stuff still hadn't simmered down, given the way it had thrust a blazing hot Pseudopod towards the foxkin. For her part, she'd just done the most logical thing, and reached out to take hold of it- awkwardly shaking the gloopy appendage with an air of supreme confidence. So, I guess- also literally full. BUT. She's not on fire- courtesy of the rather dashing Salamander leather cloak she's attached to herself. Frankly, she'd like to consider it a smashing success- but, she's not entirely sure how she's going to explain to Lanlan the fact that the tables on fire, as is a door frame, and the door. And a barrel used for storing supplies.

"...You, uh. You can leggo' of my hand now. Good Boi. Sit. Heel." Is it just her, or is the liquified metal tightening about her fingers with every word she says? "Uh. Play dea- EEEP." +1 to the Salamander cloak rating. It's durable enough to survive impact with the wall after Ina's sent sailing across the room into the wall. "Ch'yeah. Screw you, too." Ooo. That sounded like her fearless employer. Needing her? "I'm sorry, Lanlan. I just don't see you that wa- ..Oh. Right. Heading to town. Sure." Errr. Right. Damage control. "...Lump. LUMP." The salamander in the forge perks up, waddling over towards the edge of the pen- which Ina has rather deliberately left open. "Be a good boy and go eat." ...Yup. That's right. That's her containment protocol for the Phoenix metal. Letting the lummox of their semi-domesticated Salamander venture over and slurp the stuff up like semi-sentient spaghetti. And this meant that she'd have the necessary time to gather herself up, and procure the stone box they normally contained the Metal in- and well. "LUMP. Hork." Yup. Whatever rage-filled sentience still inhabits that igneous steel is going to have to deal with the humiliation of being turned into a projectile vomit. "..And you're -actually- a good boy. Who earned some sulphur? You diiid." ...Okay, yeah, she's done now. "...Oh, also, I made some gloves. Wasn't sure if you wanted the panache of the cloak- or more..." The foxkin wriggles her fingers a little, before shrugging.

Lanlan has been avoiding this part of the house for a while, partly because Ina was a talker, and he wanted her to have fewer distractions so she could work. But every time he came around, there was this nagging feeling, a sense, that something in that room desperately wanted to hurt him. He wasn’t exactly conscious of it, but it was enough to give him a slight inclination toward the rest of the dilapidated castle. So while Ina was busy testing the new forge and fattening up its helper, Lanlan was refurbishing the kitchen, outfitting it with a proper cauldron and various alchemical ingredients in case he could ever entice Gevie to stay up here and admire his progress in rejuvenating this place. It could be her home away from home…! If he could get the fishy stench out of Cenril. But eh, that could take years.

The scene unfolding before him has his full attention now, as the box holding the phoenix metal rumbles and shakes at the sound of Lanlan’s voice, slamming the wall of the container nearest the sound. Of course, the whole room is on fire now. “What did I tell you,” begins Lanlan as he takes an ornately carved wooden oar from high up on a rack, “about burning the castle to the ground?” He slides his hand along the carved glyphs and the oar hums with power. He directs the paddle toward another barrel full of water, and twirls it, whipping up a stream of crystal clear water meant for quenching smithed wares, and gently manipulates a torrent toward all the fires. “Wood is so overutilized on the surface…” Anyway, the literal fires are put out for the most part, so he tries on his new gloves, and instantly falls in love. Warmth fills his body magically, taking the chill from his bones, but especially his extremities. “These are...fine. They’re fine. And how is the chubby one?” Lanlan gloms adoration onto the fat salamander pal, rubbing his face with the gloves made from his brother or sister’s hide. “You been eating well, Chubs? Trish hasn’t been forgetting to feed you? No, she hasn’t! No, she hasn’t I can tell!” He’s very fat. “Trish finish wrapping that up and get dressed, we have business in town.”

Ina purses her lips at Lanlan's admonishment, though she bounces back pretty quickly- especially as he tames the disaster she'd unleashed on the forge. "I mean, the entire castle wouldn't burn, right? Jus', like. A bunch." She nods sagely at this, before pausing to rub at her chin, "I mean, clearly, this is a bad thing, 'n I highly appreciate the help." She nods a bit more, before casually kicking the Phoenix metals box into the corner of the room. Very slowly, given it's an unpleasantly heavy box, and she's trying not to smash her foot into oblivion. "Anyways, glad ta see ja took a shine to the gloves. Gotta say, I was happier with them than the cloak." Are leather scarves a thing- can she make it that? Or a Demi-Cape, Perhaps? It's with these thoughts on her mind that she meanders over to the forges entrance, - if only to begin fishing around in the metal supply box for her umbrella. Always best to be prepared for rain, ... or shenanigans. That, and to avoid Lump getting loose and trying to nom on it. Sure, the Salamander hasn't eaten anything important, but that's just today. "So, where are we goin', boss?"