2021-04-08: Magilou's Quest
- Log: Magilou's Quest
- Cast: Ghaleon, Magilou
- Where: Besaid
- Date: 2021-04-08
- Summary: Ghaleon asks Magilou to help the Vile Fiends to Pentagulia -- because he has to keep up appearances.
<Pose Tracker> Ghaleon has posed.
Ghaleon has a bad habit of being mysterious.
It's more of a recent habit -- though, given his age, 'recent' is a relative term -- but it holds true. He shares precious little about himself, though Magilou knows far more than most. When he wants to meet with her, he has some mysteriousness... but it celebrates the artifice. Rather than billowing cloaks, menacing laughter, cutting retorts, and simply appearing from thin air...
He uses a triple-layered wind enchantment to cause a letter to float into her hands, one afternoon. It reads:
Magilou,
It has been some time since we last spoke. There are things that I would discuss with you. As you may know, Besaid has a beach where locals engage in sport. I would never partake of such things, being -- as your compatriot once called it -- a "nerd," but it also has the dread concoction known as "a margarita." Perhaps Wednesday, in the evening?
I remain,
Dragonmaster Ghaleon, Chosen of Althena, yada yada, so on and so forth
It, of course, actually says that.
Now, the Dragonmaster looks most un-Dragonmaster like. He is standing in his full cloak, armor, and impressive look... and is poking furiously at some oversized sphere. He pokes once, then twice, and then a third time -- and a burst of pyreflies shoot out, then swirl about him.
"Hm. As expected," he comments.
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
Mayvin's accounts. It's one of the longest continuing historical records out there - if you believe the hype. Passed down through the Mayvin family, it offers a first-hand perspective on the events of the era...
... and now, apparently, it's addressing extraplanetary travel and lost archipelagos.
Oh, but that one won't be out for a while, yet, if the hand-transcribed copy of the edition even travels widely enough to be printed. After all, it's still...
Magilou writes in that leather-bound book, and perhaps it could be mistaken for a diary, for most of the people who know her. DEAR DIARY, it would read, by any reasonable guess: RAGNELL STOLE MY TARTS. I'M CONSIDERING ASSASSINS.
Those are not the words on the page, but she's happy to let the world have its fun.
And lo does a letter, triply enchanted, suddenly waft its way right between two pages. It fits in perfectly, and for all the narrative weight that could afford, it mostly just makes her snicker.
With that self-same pen, she notes in at the bottom:
Dragonmaster Ghaleon, Chosen of Althena, he who would grasp a thousand powers and may well be spooky ghost,
Dear gods if you think I'd miss you sipping margaritas on the beach you are dead wrong. Let's do it.
Regards,
Mazhigigika Miludin do Din Nolurun Dou
She dots every i with a heart. (There are no hearts to be found in her historical account.) Flicking the page up, with a dual barrage of finger-guns, it turns into a dove and flutters away. It will probably find him. Eventually.
And lo, does Magilou emerge onto the BEACH SCENE...
... in a deeply provocative bikini, sandals with sheer trim around their ankles, all checkers and bows and twin-tails delineated by OUTRAGEOUSLY puffy hair scrunchies. And, of course, an impressive set of shades, which are currently perched atop her head in some vague acknowledgement of the moonlight.
(One may get the impression she has been soaking up the rays for some time since before the evening. How does she not burn when she's that pale? It must be witchcraft.)
She prances up to the sphere Ghaleon is so intently manipulating, a knife's grin splitting her face. "Oooh!" She exclaims, a little shower of sand as she lands right in front of the offending device. "I'm just in time to hear you say something ominous with absolutely no substance! How did you know that was my favourite part?"
... Bienfu is a little slower to catch up, because he's trying to balance a tray of margaritas when he is very small and sand is very treacherous.
<Pose Tracker> Ghaleon has posed.
Ghaleon stares at Magilou when she arrives. Halfway to flustered (because this is an old friend wearing that), halfway to disbelieving (because she isn't wearing a hat). Even after centuries, Magilou can still surprise him. He blinks his eyes a couple of time, and then cracks a smile. It has the faintly-sneering quality that he often has, but Ghaleon has trouble not faintly sneering.
Much too practiced at it.
The Sphere pulses. A few more pyreflies float out. "I suppose that I've learned the sort of antics you enjoy. Hm, hm, hm--let me see, a suitable remark..."
His eyes glow for effect, then he announces: "It would seem the powers of this world are revealing themselves to me at last."
Then, he drops the sphere. It lands with a 'paff' in the sand; a margarita appears in his hand instead, and he has a sip of it. "Bienfu," he greets. Then, he looks at Magilou. "Well. I hope the margaritas don't disappoint. How have you found Spira?"
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
The most shocking thing about this getup is, indeed, the lack of a hat, given how integral the giant floppy hats are to the Mayvin family. But that's just why it's so effective to occasionally go against the grain.
Magilou is very predictable if you just remember that she's never predictable. Don't think too hard about how that works.
She's hardly the last person to criticise anyone for performing expressions wrong; it's frankly a wonder she manages to emulate the right ones even half the time, but she's had enough experience after so many years, so perhaps it's not all luck.
And so Magilou beholds Ghaleon's astounding performance, and claps her hands together. "Bravo! The eye thing really brings that together."
It would be a lie to pretend Magilou doesn't consider using the dropped sphere as a kickball, but for an old friend she can somehow manage to restrain herself. Besides, her kickball has tottered up! "Mister Ghaleon!" He chirps, as Magilou swipes a margarita from his tray. "Boy, I haven't seen you in ages!"
"Oh, come on, 'ages' is relative," Magilou waves it off. Siiip. Attention back to Ghaleon, she gestures with the glass. "I happened to fall ass-first into the place on account of a weird arrangement of ruins -- the first thing I saw were your kids having a grand old time. They're always getting into trouble. What mook looked at the lost archipelago and went, 'oh, yeah, TOTALLY taking that over, there's no logicistical problems there whatsoever'? If it was you I am contractually obligated not to let you live that down for the next hundred years, I hope you know."
(There are at least five things Magilou still isn't letting Ghaleon live down for the next hundred years. They range in pettiness. At least one is due to expire in the next year or so.)
Magilou laughs, shaking her head. "But hell, slapfights aside, Spira takes me back. It's like this place never got the memo about Seraphim getting to hide away from the normies. I'm half expecting that Fayth business to be another mass humanitarian tragedy everyone is just somehow fine with because it helps the Shoopuf run on time." A beat, and she looks aside to add: "Also, just, the entire existence of giant water behemoths somehow being more culturally acceptable than, you know, a boat. I get these people think technology is going to make a whale come and eat them, but they don't have any problems with boats on the ocean. Like, what, are river boats somehow too much of stretch? You gotta use those walking lawsuits instead? I'm beginning to think the only reason this archipelago was lost in the first place was no one who visited would be able to convince anyone they weren't nuts."
She taps a finger to her temple, and grins. "So basically, it's hilarious."
<Pose Tracker> Ghaleon has posed.
"It does, hm?" Ghaleon asks with a laugh. Then, he looks down at Bienfu. He nods once -- and takes another sip of his margarita. "It has, hasn't it? But, as Magilou said. Ages are relevant. Why, depending who you ask, one, three, or none at all have passed since we last met."
He chuckles, and then he takes a long drink. "I'm aware. Ah, if only I had a head for military strategy... well. I suppose I deserved that." He tilts his head to the side, then he wrinkles his nose. "I did find some tragedies at foot--for one, their entire leadership is undead, and retains power through slavishly using their religion to say they simply deserve to be squashed by the big, angry whale."
Ghaleon shrugs his (rather armored) shoulders.
"The fears of technology are something else. Granted... from everything I've heard about Filgaia, I can see why," he says. "Very curious. Hm, hm..."
He trails off for a moment. "Tell me. Have you met the so-called Lord of Calamity--" Ghaleon refrains from scare quotes, but he really wants to. "--and her merry little band? Hiro, one of them is called. A few other hangers-on."
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"Good ol' flagellation," Magilou flashes a V-sign. "Cures what ails you! Unless what ails you is getting all those wounds infected, but hey, that's the will of God." There's an undercurrent of loathing underneath her grin which she doesn't much bother hiding, but then, Ghaleon is one of the few people who might understand why Magilou has such a dim view of organised religion.
(The sort of emotional honesty which would underpin her getting into her concerns about undead clergy only comes along every couple of hundred years, though, and they're at least fifty years out from the next one. She's just a god-botherer-botherer. That's how she amuses herself. Don't worry about it.)
"I took a quick jaunt out to Filgaia recently," Magilou remarks, "and did you know they have carriages that are just wheels you can drive? Shithole planet, but ten out of ten for drivable wheels."
"You almost got us killed!" Bienfu protests. "My life, flashing before my eyes..!"
"I don't see how that negates my point that wheels you can drive around in are the best thing Filgaia has ever or will ever create."
(Magilou evidently hasn't run into Filgaia's best Gears yet.)
Her hip cocks out to the side, one hand falling down to rest there, as she considers Ghaleon's next question. "What, the newest model? I haven't managed to poke her personally yet -- it's on my bucket list, eventually one of them is bound to measure up -- but I've run into that Hiro a few times. Lovely fellow, I have no idea how his friends haven't shattered him into a million pieces yet. Called me the most Vile Fiend, and a bit of bookwork tells me that's what your kids are calling that merry band these days. Why they wouldn't just own 'Lord of Calamity and her band of scurrilous villains' is beyond me, but nobody's perfect."
Beat: "Well, not these days."
Implying that she was totally perfect.
"But given the track record of Lords of Calamity these days, I'm going to go ahead and guess I'm going to be REAL disappointed again." Magilou gestures, palm to the sky, as her other hand enables sipping that margarita again. "Because that Hiro is just cute as a button. Unless he's the Eleanor this time around. Oh, is he the Eleanor?"
<Pose Tracker> Ghaleon has posed.
Ghaleon does understand. To say that he likes his current circumstances--well, he may not have told Magilou why... but it would be hard to imagine him liking the path of the Church of Althena. There are comparisons that one could make, still.
"I heard something about that," he says. "I've thought of going down there... but alas, duty calls." He sighs once.
"Well--I suggest you move meeting this Lucia up on your bucket list. You might find her... curious." He doesn't explain more. There are certain paths he must walk; he glances around, at the pyreflies swirling.
"I think you'll be surprised. Perhaps disappointed, too," he says. "And yes, he is absolutely the Eleanor. However... there is more to it than that."
He hesitates. "And they could use a hand. You see--their goal is to go visit the Goddess Althena. In Pentagulia! They plan to walk right into the place!" Ghaleon laughs. "To have a pleasant chat. You have to give them credit, really. Just... not extra credit."
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"Yeeap," Magilou agrees. "Responsibility sucks. That's why I don't have any!" Never mind that Magilou totally has great-great-great-great-great-great-grandchildren running around. And she still owes an old friend some measure of guardianship of the world he decided to try and make better. And she maybe technically saved the world that one time. And she caught a goldfish at a festival and it's still sitting forlornly in a bowl waiting for fish flakes which will never come.
Nope. Magilou has no responsibilities whatsoever.
(Don't worry, eventually someone will clean the inn room and find the fish. No fish were harmed in the making of this terrible elven being.)
"Curious, a curio? The suspicious is so often pernicious, it's enough to make a woman lose hope in this scenario. The youth of today just can't live up to their lamentations! It's like they don't appreciate the truth of their foundations!" Magilou is rhyming, so she must be interested. Or just trying to annoy Ghaleon. Maybe both? Probably both.
"Stii-iiiiill," she wraps a curly twintail around a finger, which is precisely the sort of youthful gesture which is definitely designed to get on everyone's nerves. "I've gotta hand it to them, they've got some real brass balls to have a plan that obvious. It's about as daft as walking right up to the Empyrean Throne and expecting a happy ending." That's... probably a compliment. "'A pleasant chat' wouldn't happen to be code for 'putting a sword through Ms. Perfect Existence's chest', would it? ... nah, somehow I can't imagine that Hiro going along with that."
This is the precise moment Magilou just cracks up.
"So they're just going to go in and talk! Ahahahaha -- that's something else! I can't believe these kids! Oh, they are so dead." She wipes a tear from her eye, and that, if anything, makes her laugh even harder.
Bienfu just kind of tilts his head ninety degrees with a look of vague dawning horror on his face. Somehow, his hat stays on.
"And let me guess," she points her half-empty margarita at Ghaleon, which has mysteriously avoided spilling that whole time. "The whole point to this whole spooky summit is you've got fingers in this pie too, but if you actually said anything you'd compromise the whole Imposing Lord Of All Dooms thing you've got going on. Come on, Ghaleon, out with it."
Magilou has a lot of smiles in her arsenal, but this lidded smirk, all teeth, might be the closest to something genuine she's shown all night. "What's your angle?"
<Pose Tracker> Ghaleon has posed.
"None, at all, is it?" Ghaleon says, with a dry chuckle. He could press further -- and with most people, he would -- but Magilou and Rokurou are his only real friends left in this world. He has to mete out his ribbing.
Especially when he has something to ask of her. And especially when she insists on rhyming. Ghaleon's eyebrow twitches -- the one that isn't encased in mottled, horrific purple scarring. It twitches like it did when he was a pre-eminent scholar, traveling with his friends.
Rather than... what he, eventually, became.
But he cracks a smile, and he laughs. "They're thoroughly doomed. I think it's likely I'll have to really fight them. At some point." He curls -- and uncurls -- his fingers. A little lightning dances across them.
"You're correct, of course. I have appearances to maintain, Magilou. Hm, hm, hm... how unfortunate," he says. "I'd prefer they make their way to Pentagulia. But... the Goddess is sealing the city off. Sin, of course. No one, save her Chosen, get in or out."
He pauses. "But there's a way through. In Camlann. At..." He scowls. There is actual anger in his expression, now. "...at the site they now call Artorius's Throne. A teleportation circle, sealed by a gem hidden inside each and every Trial Shrine. One for each element."
He shakes his head. "Attune to those... and once they get to the teleportation circle, they can simply teleport to an old shrine on the isle that Pentagulia is built upon. Inside of the Goddess's barrier."
He frowns. "So you see why I mention. If they're going there, in the end... then you and Rokurou should go with them."
<Pose Tracker> Ghaleon has posed.
"Hm, hm, hm... well. I'll certainly try to not get too many of them furious with me," Ghaleon says. He laughs. "But I make no promises. Something about my winning personality seems to provoke it."
He chuckles again. But he trails off, after a moment.
"Well, if it's any comfort, the world is consistent in its unfairness," he says, regarding Artorius's Throne. "That is the short of it. The Trial Shrines, are -- of course -- dangerous ruins spread across the whole of the Silver Star. Why, I don't even know where some are. Some Seraphim who managed them took them and hid them. The Water and Light Shrines are in Spira."
He cracks a smile, then. He shakes his head once. "I've spoken with the Goddess. It was... illuminating." He doesn't say more; some things, he thinks, Magilou should see for herself. And others... well... some truths, Ghaleon cannot speak.
Even if he wants to.
"It will take awhile. But--see what you can do," he says. "They should be around." He takes a drink of his margarita, draining it. The glass vanishes in a poof of smoke.
"I'll be in touch. Obviously... don't mention that I helped," Ghaleon says, with a flick of his wrist. "It would be annoying."
<Pose Tracker> Magilou has posed.
"Bienfu, better get a shovel."
"I still don't think that's what digging means, Miss Magilou!"
"Oh, fine, we'll just go find the shrines the old-fashioned way," Magilou huffs. "Spoilsport."
She shakes her head, with a rueful grin. "You know, I never managed to get the hang of light as an element. Illumination just isn't my bag. But hey, when you're all-powerful you're all-talented, huh?" It's an open question.
"Oh, I'll just kidnap a puppy and I'm sure they'll show up with bells on," Magilou grins. "... you take care of yourself, yeah? Don't worry, I'm not about to go ruining the notion that you're this hardnosed spire of magical peerlessness or whatever. I mean, it's not like it's that off the mark for most of those mooks, anyway."
She flicks her wrist, sending her margarita glass off into the sky. This, too, turns into a dove. It's an old joke. Those are the best jokes.
"The first rule of showbusiness is people believe what's in front of their eyes. If we happen to pass a rabbit along when they're not looking, that's the same as it disappearing, don't you think?" With another twirl, Magilou trots away across the sand, waving a hand as she leaves. "Ta-ta!"