Fantasy The Magicians of Highbell (Closed)

[Magnolia]

Introduction​

Nestled in an alpine valley at the edge of a serene lake was the city of Highbell. It was a modest city, whose subtle beauty reflected, rather than overshadowed, the idyllic landscape that surrounded it. Weathered cobblestones paved its winding streets. Aging crooked buildings stood alongside intricately decorated mansions and quaint shops of all shapes and sizes. It smelled of freshly baked bread in the mornings and of wood fire smoke in the evenings. And all the while, from one tower or another, a bell chimed.

Highbell was home to both the wealthy and the poor, the industrious and the lackadaisical. From humble farming stock it grew into a proud city of artisans and aristocrats. Though divided by social class, the people of Highbell shared a complete and utter delight in being alive. While their zest for life shone through all year round, their enthusiasm was never more apparent than it was on the spring equinox, otherwise known as Color Day.

It was during this misnomer of a celebration (for Color Day lasted a full week) that three young magicians from three walks of life came upon Highbell. What they saw was vivid, to say the least.

Colored streamers draped from the rooftops of every building in the city. Each neighborhood dressed itself in various shades of a particular color: blues by the harbor, purples by the wealthy hilltop houses, yellows by the markets, and so forth. The colors wove through the streets, colliding in public squares in one gloriously absurd rainbow. The baker had placed red cakes with red frosting and red sprinkles on red platters in a case lined with red paper. The dressmaker had outfitted her dress forms in monochromatic masterpieces. People covered head to toe in the color of their choice paraded through the streets, chatting animatedly with each other. Many were visitors, much like the three magicians, but still they knew the custom. Those who came from out of town looked forward to Color Day almost as eagerly as the locals. It marked the beginning of the social season, during which time a person might rise meteorically into the highest echelons of society or be cast out as a social pariah by vicious gossip.

 

[_Line 213]

Spoiler: Last View of Alabaster Meadow

"You're sure you have everything? What about Baxter?"

Maxwell Mabel kneaded his wife's tense shoulders with aging, rustic fingers, a worried smile cast towards his one and only child as he briefly took stock of all she had strapped to her trusty shop broom; food, water, extra clothing, knickknacks and keepsakes, a toolbox or two...

"Baxter's saying goodbye to Ma, he'll be out soon," replied the diligent daughter, securing the last dangling touch to her broom, a small riding pouch knit from firm cloth and dyed a light blue. The late-night moisture upon the grass outside of the Mabel cottage stained broom, box, and bag alike, the last portion of home that would cling, at least for a time, to the belongings of the departing witch. Marabelle stood, leaving her broom upon the ground for now (it was heavy with all she owned, after all), and looked out upon the empty dirt road, winding quietly along the outskirts of the small town of Alabaster Meadow, stretching down the grassy hill atop which the cottage perched, before disappearing amongst the lily-like flowers that gave the region its name.

The witch turned, her bright red skirt flourishing as she did. Before her was the only home she had ever known, covered in vines sporting those same white flowers, roof and walls dappled by moonlight peeking through the overhanging trees, and workshop tucked away on the house's far side. The garden lattice, the careful brickwork, the rusting downspout, it was all there, as it should be--and in front, her one and only mother and father. Marabelle's mood drooped, apprehension and reluctance beginning to mix into her previously steadfast expression.

"Don't look like that, dear," Madeline Mabel said, pulling away from her husband to take long strides towards her daughter, enveloping her in her arms. "Your father and I are so, so proud of you. Don't wear that face on your first day of adulthood, for me? Please?"

"Your mother's right," said the father, stepping forward and wrapping his family in his own embrace. "We're very proud. Sometimes it feels like it was just last week that you were my little shop hand. I don't know how I'm going to manage without you!" Despite his contribution of cheer, Maxwell, a non-magical sort, could only understand so much about the longstanding ritual.

The family stood in silence, tangled in each other's arms, and Marabelle trembled slightly. Of all the times to nearly cry, this was perhaps the most fitting. Yet, no tears came all the same; despite her sadness, part of her was as ready as could ever be.

"Miss Mabel! Miss Mabel!" The voice of an excited child, along with an energetic blur of splotchy brown, black, and white fur, darted out of the open door and pawed at Marabelle's lower leg. "Ma, Ma says eat lots, drink lots, and, and rest lots!"

Marabelle pulled away from her family and glanced down at her companion, reaching down and scooping the foxhound pup up into her arms. The pup's tail wagged as if it would never have the chance to again, the young familiar squirming and wriggling with energy it couldn't wait to spend. "You're not bringing any toys with you, Baxter?"

"No no! Ma says, Ma says I'm a big pup now, so, so the others get to keep them."

Marabelle turned her eyes towards the door, smiling lightly as a droopy, fully-grown foxhound stood at the edge of her golden lamplight, several bumbling pups encircling her in a mix of coffee-colored patterns. Setting Baxter down carefully, Marabelle made her way to the doorstep, reaching down to brush the dog's fur, before pulling her into a brief embrace. "Bye, Ma. Baxter will take perfect care of me, just like he should. He's a big pup now, after all," she said, the older hound letting out a quiet whimper as it pushed itself into Marabelle's white blouse.

"Yes! I am!" called Baxter in chipper affirmation.

"The Moon's high, Marabelle," called Madeline, the motherly witch taking in a long breath as she watched her child with growing sadness. It was time for the girl to go.

Nodding, she pulled herself away from Ma, and pressed her palm to the doorway of the house itself, looking up at the outside, before looking within with a light smile and a whispered goodbye. Stepping back, she slowly moved toward her broomstick. She hefted the broom off of the ground with a bit of effort, her sacks and packs clinking and clanking as they shifted and dangled from the handle. Baxter had long since settled into his traveling pouch, tumbling around and around in the blue cloth tied to the very front of the broomstick with exciting giggling and pawing. The witch closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath as she concentrated. Slowly, the bristles at the far end of the broom began to shift and wave, as if they were reeds passing through a lazy breeze.

BANG. The sound of what might as well have been a backfiring car, and the bristles straightened themselves out, flicking back and forth with sudden stiffness as the broom slowly began to rise into the air, bags, hound, Mabel and all. Baxter pawed at the edge of his riding sack, looking down at the ground as they floated ever upward, bark after bark of excited goodbye directed down toward his own small family.

"Goodbye!" Marabelle called, her mother stepping forward onto the road as she looked up toward her departing daughter.

"Write us, darling!" she replied, clasping her hands over her heart. Marabelle rose and rose, until the girl, her broom, and her voluminous hair were little more than a speck against the bright white moon. Maxwell stepped forward, placing her hands on her wife's shoulders as he glanced up towards the dot against the midnight sky.

"...What an extraordinary girl we have," he said, pulling Madeline close as the two basked in the silence.

And so, Marabelle Mabel left her home of Alabaster Meadow behind streaking through the sky above fields of white, thousands upon thousands of pedals reflecting the moonlight. What once seemed endless as a child was now so small, flat farmland stretching out in all directions, with all the world awaiting.

"Don't cry, Miss Mabel," came one of the only familiar voices left.

"...Ah, don't worry Baxter," the witch replied, briefly reaching up to wipe at her eyes, "they're the good kind of tears."

----~----

Spoiler: First View of Highbell

Marabelle and her broom swooped low over the lake as they came down over the tops of the mountain trees, hair and baggage blowing in the wind. It had been several days since she had departed Alabaster Meadow, and already she felt as if she had done and seen so much. She grinned as she swept through the early morning air, looking down as she gave her broom a pat. "You're really clicking along today, aren't you Duster," she said, pep long since restored to her voice.

"Everyone's in a good mood this morning Miss Mabel!" barked Baxter as he stirred within his pouch, shifting and squirming with continued excitement. The pup had not once lost his mood since their first flight. "Everything is going to go wonderfully!"

"Oh yeah?" Marabelle asked, grinning down at the pup, before looking back up to check her direction."What makes you say that..." Her voice trailed away as other voices became increasingly prevalent from the far end of the lake, their tones echoing off of the tall mountain walls. She gave her broom two more pats. "Quick pace, Duster!" she instructed, and indeed, the broom shot forward, zipping low along the water as mist flew up behind the flying witchy menagerie. The towers of Highbell drew ever closer, streaks of tiled rooftops becoming buildings as the broom and its rider pulled upward into the air. The chorus of early morning bells had begun, dinging and donging at every conceivable register. Yet, where all else heard mere bells, Marabelle heard much, much more.

"...This is what a city sounds like," she said, grinning as Duster pulled to a stop in midair, the witch and her companions hanging in the air above an expanse of things, all rumbling and humming and talking and calling with the joy befitting of a city-wide festival. The city shook with the low registers of the largest celebratory bells, and Marabelle's eyes sparkled as they beheld a city of glinting brass and colored paper. She took in a long, deep breath, and shouted back to the bells.

"GOOD MORNING TO YOU, TOO!"

 

[ch1ps]

Flying clumsily atop a worn and splintering broomstick, Mora Delay was faced with several problems. To be precise, she had five. One, her supply of pellets was running low. Her parrotlet companion Linger had an insatiable appetite and wasn’t to be messed with on an empty stomach. Two, her broomstick had been around far longer than she had, and it was only hers because she played an unfortunate rock against her brother’s paper. Mrs. Delay ran a fair household, and that’s just how things worked. Three, she wasn’t good at flying. Four, it was approximately six in the morning, and she had been flying since three. Five, she really wasn’t good at flying.

“We've been flying for hours! Will you please pick up the pace!?” A black-feathered head popped out of one of Mora’s many pouches and promptly began to chew at her belt in frustration.

During their latest late-night pit stop at a friendly-looking tavern, the duo was indirectly informed of some city called Highbell. In the words of their unknowing (and drunken) informant, it was “Fantastic! Absolutely positively phenomenal! Just around two hours west of here. Oh and the bells! The bells are incredible. And the view, yes, the view! Did I mention the bells?” A couple more chugs of her non-alcoholic drink, a few more moments to enjoy the feeling of her feet on solid ground, and the witch and her feathered friend were off.

“Linger…,” Mora sighed, pausing to rub her eyes as if doing so would rub the fatigue away. “You and I both know that If I flew any faster I’d lose my control, and this,” she pointed at the bulky pack hanging on the rear of her broomstick, “and thiiiis,” she waved her hands across her body, “would go flying straight into there,” she pointed at the vast body of water below them.

Spoiler: View of Highbell

“Aye yai yai, of all the witches to be paired with. One whole year of flying and THIS is the result. Mora you’ve-” Linger trailed off, tilting her head frontwards. “I…I think I hear something,” The bird shuffled out of Mora’s pouch and hopped towards the tip of the broom. “Did that fellow from last night say something about bells? Because I hear a bell. Scratch that – ten, no – twenty, hundreds, maybe! Speed up!”

“What!?” Mora leaned forward, bringing her feet closer to her body, tangling one foot around the strap of her pack as the broom slowly began to accelerate. On any other occasion, Mora would have taken her time – patience is a virtue – but on this particular day and at this particular time, the aftereffects of flying sleep-deprived and on a half-empty stomach heavily impaired her judgment. “Get in!” Mora exclaimed, glancing at Linger then back at her pouch. Linger dived in, using her beak to clasp the pouch shut. Grasping the broom handle tightly, her knuckles turning white, Mora willed the broom onwards, repeatedly whispering for it to stay steady - and much to her surprise - it did. Or so she thought.

As the broom gained speed it flew forwards evenly for the first minute or so, and then began to spin. "Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gooOOOshH," Mora's voice wavered as she and her broom began thrashing upwards, downwards, and in every possible direction, still racing forwards but in the most terrifying and unstructured of manners. She fumbled to grasp hold of her bag and in doing so, further disrupted the balance of the broom, causing it to spin and jerk even faster. Mora squinted, holding back tears as the force of the wind pricked and poked at her eyes. Despite the chaos, she somehow managed to pick up on a muffled yet distinct sound. Mixed in with the sound of Linger's pleas to let her live and promises of cutting back on pellets, and the violent thrashing of wind against Mora's ears was the sound of bells and of celebration. "I think we've found Highbell!" exclaimed Mora, who was now wrapped tightly around the broom and tilted completely parallel to the water. As if it had fulfilled it’s duty, the broom shrieked to a sudden stop, sending a dizzy Mora, her bag, and a shrieking parrotlet straight into the sail of a small sailboat.

**May undergo some edits/punctuation fixes but I wanted to get it out there asap haha

 

[_Line 213]

Marabelle's appreciation of the ringing city was sharply put to the side by a sudden cacophony of confusion below; the sounds of many voices--some literal, and some less so--echoed upward from a sailboat just below the floating witch. What may have been a pristine deck a few moments ago was now something of a mess, with objects strewn all about, and a punctured sail flapping in the wind with fresh aimlessness. The witch peered over the side of her broom, nearly leaning far enough to the side to slip right off.

"Miss Mabel, Miss Mabel!" exclaimed Baxter, pulling himself upward so that he, too, could lean dangerously far from the safety of their suspended broomstick. "I smell magic Miss Mabel! All the way down there!"

Marabelle blinked lightly in response, patting her broom lightly in a prompt to slowly descend, drifting downward as she leaned over just a bit more, as if believing that her own motions would bring her closer to the action than that of her broom. For better or worse, there was no mistaking the fact that the pup was quite right. One broomstick, one rather upset animal, and one girl, not a year older than Marabelle herself. The boat's two occupants, seemingly two well-meaning friends, watched in wide-eyed surprise from their end of the vessel; understandable, of course, seeing as most wouldn't have a single idea in the world as to what to do if they suddenly found themselves with a torn sail and a broom-riding girl on their deck, soon to be two.

As Marabelle continued to drift downward, however, she locked her eyes upon the girl's raggedy riding broom, her expression of curiosity and surprise quickly shifting to one of alarm. She let out a shout, immediately zipping down to the deck and pulling herself off of her own steed of sorts, bags, broom, familiar and all levitating a foot or two from the ground as she ran towards the other, far more battered broomstick. Seemingly, the girl herself was something of a secondary consideration.

"Your broom!" she exclaimed, pulling it into her hands and looking over the poor piece of wood with equal parts shock and sorrow, "what did you do to it?!"

 

[NightMoves]

Spoiler: Leaving home

Strange and unexplainable moans echoed throughout the trees. Branches that closely resembled claws reached out to any and all who passed them by. An oddly chilling draft swept through the greenery, slightly disturbing the local deranged fauna, with their beady red eyes and sharp talons. Pure darkness enveloped almost every nook and cranny of the forest at all times of day. The only exception was the lit windows of a cottage dusted with tans and browns. With flowers of various colors potted on either side of the entrance, and the warm sight of chimney smoke leaving the building, the cottage seemed to emanate happiness and warmth in the otherwise ghastly forest. In this cottage, were three lovely individuals; Hubert Hobbs: A short but stout father with a balding head and black beard that connected to the same color mustache, Golda Hobbs: an aged but still beautiful mother with curly black locks, she was much shorter than her husband but the fierce look in her eyes made her look as if she was taller than the cottage itself, and Theodore Hobbs: a young son with piercing blue-green eyes and hair that closely resembled his mothers if twenty birds had nested in it.

The family of three were smiling and laughing over hot servings of a thick potato soup. Theodore picked up his bowl and poured the rest of it's contents down his throat, a pleasant sigh escaping his lips as the warmth flowed throughout his very core. One of the perks of living in a spooky forest was that there was never a wrong time to have a hot soup, since it was always uncomfortably chilly. He looked at his empty bowl with slight sadness, the thought of not being able to have his favorite food for such a hefty amount of time only now dawning on him. His mother saw this drop in attitude and proceeded to walk over and place a soft hand on her son's shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll always be here if you need it." She said in that warm motherly tone that never failed to comfort. Theodore smiled, turning his head to look at his mother. She had on a soft smile on her face, but her eyes were filled with anguish. Although it was to be expected since she loved her family more than anything, the young boy felt his heart twist and turn. His lower lip quivered with sadness before he bolted up and into a hug with his mother, where they both were unable to choke back tears any longer. With a sad look on his face, Hubert also made his way over to the hug, enveloping them both into his strong arms.

After a while, Theodore pulled away from the hug and wiped his teary eyes with the sleeve of his dusty yellow jacket. Both of his parents smiled down on him, and under that gaze, he could feel how proud they were. The boy let out a laugh, his voice cracking at it's end. "What am I doing? It's only the first day of my journey in becoming a man, and I've already cried! Looks like I've got a lot of progress to make!" He said with a broken cheery tone as he continued to rub his now swollen eyes. His parents smiled knowingly as Theo turned his back to gather his things.

Golda Hobbs made her way to a nearby closet and pulled out a broom with widely spread thistles that had been previously dyed black. She looked down at the object that filled her with memories of all different emotions. This had been the broom that she, her mother, and her mother's mother had used for their own journeys. Although it was an old broom, it had been treated well and showed close to no wear and tear. The dark brown hilt carried a few markings though, one of which was H+G surrounded by a heart. Golda smiled wide, knowing that this had been made only moments after Hubert pledged his love to her all those years ago. She ran her fingers across the marking in remembrance before walking over to her son and handing it to him.

"Your old broom...?" Theodore asked as he took the broom into both of his hands. He looked from left to right, scanning the hilt with awe and wonder. He knew that his mother cherished this broom with all her heart, and never imagined that he would ever be allowed to touch it, let alone ride it. He looked up to tell his mother that he couldn't accept such a gift, but she shook her head before he could even open his mouth. "It's yours now." She said with certainty, filling Theodore with pure joy. She turned and gathered a pouch that she had sewn from various pieces of clothes and other fabrics that she had found lying throughout the house the night before. Reds, tans, blues, purples, and other colors clashed as they were bonded together with black thread. While she had hoped she could give Theodore something much better, business had been slow and this was all she could give him at the time. She smiled sadly as she went and tied it to the end of his broom. He stood his broom up to free one hand and set it on her shoulder knowingly. "I love it." He said earnestly, which made Golda's sadness drift away. Her son was such a good boy...

"There's an apple, some bread, and water in your pouch. Try to stay out of the rain! It gets hard to fly in the rain. Make sure you get lots of rest and don't go with strangers!" Theodore's mother began to ramble as they made their way outside. "Also don-" She began to continue, but the man who had otherwise been silent interrupted. "Goldy." Hubert said as he cupped his wife's cheek with one hand. "He's gonna be fine." He said to try and comfort her nerves. He was worried about his son as well, but he knew that there was a time where you just had to let go. "I know, I know. I'm sorry...I just..." She trailed off as she looked down in sadness.

Theodore laid his broom on the ground before walking to his mother and embracing her into a hug. "I know Ma, I know. I'll write you as often as I can, okay?" He soothed. As he pulled away, he saw his mother nod in agreement. Although mail didn't often arrive at the Hobbs household, considering it was located in a spooky forest and all, it still comforted her to know that Theo would write. With that, the boy made his way over to his broom and got into position. He looked back to his parents, who both nodded to him in response. A deep breath and some concentration later, he and his broom lifted up into the air and shot towards a small opening in the canopy of trees.

"Bye! I'll miss you!" Theodore yelled out before flicking his hand towards his mother. With a small bit of white sparkles, a tumbleweed came flying from his hand and straight down into his mother's hair. "Sorry! That was supposed to be a roooose!" He called out in apology as the broom took him farther and farther away from his home. "Not again..." Golda sighed as both she and Hubert made their way back into the cottage to attempt to remove yet another one of Theodore's creations from her locks.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Spoiler: First View of the City!

The young wizard gazed up at the fluffy clouds, counting them as he zoomed along. He was currently balanced perfectly with his back against the broom's hilt and his right foot up. His arms were crossed over his chest and his left foot dangled below, letting his broom take him wherever it may. It had been a few days since he had taken off from home. Provisions were out, and he hadn't found any place that particularly interested him yet. As he was an optimistic boy, he knew that something would come along with time, but, as his stomach rang out with hunger, he honestly wished that the time was now.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait too long as his counting was interrupted by the sound of dozens upon dozens of bells. In excitement, he attempted to face forward, but this moving process disrupted the perfect balance that he had previously established, causing him to fall from his broom. As he fell, one of his hands managed to grip onto the hilt, preventing him from dropping to his possible demise. He swung from his broom, holding onto it for dear life with just one hand, making a couple of fearful noises as it jerked him back and forth from the surprise motion. He held his eyes shut and concentrated as his broom stabilized flight. The next moment he opened his eyes was when he saw it, a tall city covered with a bright array of colors. Despite his distance, he could hear chatter and laughter alike. Theodore raised his free hand into the air and wiggled his legs in happiness. This was it! This was the city where his life would change forever.

 

[Semblance]

Arune Colvar
Small snowflakes danced through the crisp morning air. A few of the white delicacies slipped through a cracked foggy window and landed onto Arune's numb red nose. The town that he and his father had temporarily made their residence in for the last few months was located high on a mountain top. Although the views were breath taking, the weather was a constant piercing cold.

He packed the last of his belongings into his leather backpack, not that he had many possessions to begin with. Arune stuffed his small journal and pencil into his pocket. He never went anywhere without it, lest he becomes musically inspired with nothing to transcribe. He swung both straps around his shoulders and opened the wooden door to his closet. The dusty old broom lay sadly in the corner, untouched for months since the last town they traveled from.

"All set?" His father's voice sounded from his bedroom door.

"I think I forgot how to fly," Arune responded, half jokingly half nervously.

"Blasphemy!" He placed a firm hand onto his son's shoulder. "You're just a little rusty. That's all."

The young magician hesitantly gripped the wooden handle of the broom, letting out a few coughs as the dust flew everywhere.

"And of course, your lyre!" His father exclaimed.

"Obviously, Papa! How could I ever forget?" With an apprehensive hand on the broom and a confident grip on his trusty lyre, Arune descended the wooden stairs towards the front door.

"Finally! The sun is already at its highest, you sloth." An impatient voice chirped from a dark amber nightingale.

"Shut your beak, Cadence." Arune rolled his eyes. "Not everyone is as eager to fly."

"It's not my fault you fell last time," the bird retorted.

"Yes it was!" He interjected. "If it weren't for your--"

"Alright alright enough, you two. Let's not taint our farewell with your superfluous arguing." His father shook his head.

Arune shifted his piercing hazel green eyes onto his father before shooting his gaze away. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and clutched his lyre even tighter. He was never good at sentimental moments. As much as he knew he would miss his father, it felt odd saying goodbye to the one person who had been with him his entire life.

"Son." Arune looked up to meet his father's eyes. "Never let your fire out. The day you lose your passion for the world around you is the day you lose any will to live."

The auburn-haired magician nodded slightly. He could see the emotion and all the unsaid words on his father's face. Ever since Arune's mother had passed away, his father had done everything in his power to be the best parent he could. Although their relationship was somewhat tense immediately following his mother's death, the two eventually formed an unbreakable bond. His father had taught Arune everything he knew about writing and music, including his talent for playing the lyre. Letting his son go alone into the harsh, dangerous world was the most difficult thing he could do. The father-son duo had traveled to countless different towns together, performing for the masses and making do with what they earned. The only constant that remained was each other and even now, that was about to change.

"I'll visit soon," Arune smiled. His father pulled him into a warm hug and when they separated, he could've sworn he saw tears in his old man's eyes, but it was probably a trick of the light.

"Take care of him," his father said to Cadence.

The nightingale flew to his father's shoulder and nuzzled the man's coarse cheek. "Nothing will hurt him under my watch," she reassured him.

Arune slipped the broom in between his legs and closed his eyes. After a few seconds, the broom jerked unexpectedly off the ground. It wobbled slightly in the air before zooming forwards again, and it took all of his power to hold on for dear life. "Bye, Papa!" he shouted towards his father over his shoulder. The nightingale soared gracefully into the air alongside him, chuckling with amusement as she watched Arune struggle to stabilize the broom.


"In days that have long since passed, there lived a beautiful mahogany lass. An unmarried and virtuous princess, alas..." Arune's deep voice echoed through the sky, as his fingers danced across his lyre.

"Mahogany lass?" Cadence exclaimed. "That makes no sense. How can a woman be a tree?"

"It doesn't matter," he retorted. "It flows well." Arune laid down onto his back on top of his broom, resting one bent knee onto the other. Over the past few days of constant flying, he had grown significantly more comfortable with his magical broom.

"Are we even going the right way? I've never heard of this Highbell," the nightingale chirped skeptically.

"We'll probably know when we're there," he responded with uncertainty.

"I'm tired of all this blue," Cadence sighed. "All we've seen is sky and ocean and more sky and more ocean."

"There once lived a bird, who was always so blue and absurd. Why, you ask? Well, alas--"

"I'm going to break the strings on your lyre if you don't stop singing this nonsense!" She growled.

Arune laughed. "Oh lighten up!" His fingers began to flutter naturally over the strings again before he heard the softest bell ring in the distance. "Did you hear that?"

He sat up on his broom and faced forwards, squinting his hazel eyes for any hint of civilization. The bell sound grew louder, and it was quickly joined by dozens of other bell sounds with various pitches, signifying the multitude of bells in whatever city they were approaching. Soon, clutters of aging buildings appeared on the sides of hilltops and tall bell towers protruded towards the sky. Colorful streamers decorated every roof top, and Arune swore he was looking at a city-version of a fruit salad. Vibrant blues filled the oceanside huts, lavender purples decorated the lavish hilltop mansions, and radiant yellows painted the crowded markets. He thought he had seen it all during his travels with his father, but the young magician's wonder-filled eyes were fixated on this bustling, animated metropolis. "Wow...." He was at a lost of words; this was unlike anything he had ever seen. A feeling of heartache tore through him. He would give anything for his father to be here right now, to witness this brilliance before them.

Even Cadence was speechless. "Let's go!" She soared forwards, leaving Arune to swiftly dash after her. Child-like excitement overpowered the heartache as he approached the city quickly. Up ahead, he could see a boy flying on his broom, and Arune opted to fly beneath him to avoid a collision. However, as he grew closer, the other boy suddenly slipped off his broom, but managed to catch himself with one hand. The boy's quick reaction may have saved his own life, but Arune's delayed response and inexperience in controlling his broom led him to fly directly into the boy and his broom, sending them both into a downward spiral.

 

[NightMoves]

The view of the city was absolutely marvelous. It seemed so big, yet somehow still gave off the feeling of home. Perhaps it was due to how close the buildings were to each other. Theodore took some time to admire the city's beautiful colors as they clashed against the pure blue sky. He wondered if there was some sort of festival going on, or if the city always looked like it had been splattered with different colors and shades of paint.

Theodore was preparing to swing back up and onto his broom before he felt something crash painfully into his back. The force from this sent both him and his broom flying down to the ground at a rather rapid rate. He tried to maintain focus to get his broom back into flight, but the combination of pain and fear made it extremely hard to concentrate. The young wizard knew for a fact that there was a lake beneath him, and that sent his heart into panic mode. It was beating so hard that he swore anyone within a 10 mile radius could hear it. "C'mon!" He exclaimed to his broom in frustration, wiggling haphazardly to try and get the broom to do something to prevent what was about to happen.

Sadly, he wasn't able to do anything at all as he and his broom crashed into the clear water. He held his breath and closed his eyes, trying to stay optimistic even in this absolutely awful situation. What had even run into him? Was it some sort of large bird? It had to be big to throw him off course in such an insane matter. After these thoughts went through his head, he had been submerged in water for approximately 45 seconds without coming up for air, for he couldn't because he had never learned to swim.

 

[ch1ps]

Mora balanced above the water – hands and feet digging into the dock – and atop her arched back, a half-stunned and half-fuming bird. Ignoring Linger's long slur of insults, Mora ducked her head down to confirm the integrity of her inner and outerwear, then jerked her head up to offer an apologetic smile in response to the blank stares of her two fishermen victims through the gaping hole in their sail. "Terribly sorry about that!" Zooming by the same conveniently positioned hole came sight of a flowy tangle of red, a flash of canine, and an incredibly concerned expression.

Whatever the thing or person was, it – or they - required further observation. Mora pushed herself off the ground, dusting salt particles and wood shavings from her hands as she stepped curiously around the boat.

“Up top, Linger,” she motioned towards her shoulder. With a quick flutter of her wings, Linger perched herself just there, but not without a disapproving shake of her head and a few extra words of admonishment.

Behind the boat a girl with the biggest and reddest hair in the world lay distraught over Mora’s old broom. Mora stepped gently in front of the stranger, peering over them at the small pup and messy slew of bags and belongings at their side. She gave the broom a light tap with the tip of her shoe, and shrugged, “Oh that old thing? Don’t worry about it, it was my mum’s and her mum’s, and probably her mum’s too! I’ve been wanting a new one, too, anyways.” She glanced at the broom by their side, and brought her fist down upon her palm with an enlightened "Oh!"

Crouching down to meet the girl's level, she offered an outstretched hand. "I'm Mora Delay, by the way, and this," she motioned towards Linger, "Is my companion, Linger. Are you...a witch, too?"

 

[_Line 213]

Spoiler: Two Witches

"How could you say something like that!" the other witch exclaimed, entirely failing to offer her name. It was an odd reaction, to be sure, and she hefted the broom up with something of a flustered expression as she puffed her cheeks, looking straight at Mora. "This is a distinguished broom! It's been flying since before you were born, don't you think that'd mean it would know a thing or two?" Letting out a huff, she looked back down at the aging wood, whining a little as she stared at it. "Oh, I know, I know. It's not her fault, but still!" Was she talking to it? To Mora, this likely wasn't all that far-fetched an assumption, but to the poor onlookers watching from the sailboat, there weren't that many stranger things available to see in the morning.

The blue pouch hanging from her own broom rustled and bulged, the familiar within it pawing his way out of the cloth coverings, jumping to the wood below as his tail flicked back and forth. He bounded toward the witchy pair, looking up at Marabelle first, before looking to the girl that had introduced herself a mere moment ago. Marabelle continued to mutter to the broomstick, and so the pup took upon himself to proudly conduct introductions. He was a big pup now, after all.

"This is my master, Miss Mabel!" he barked, tail swinging with unbridled happiness as he mentioned her name. Dogs were just like that when it came to friends, one supposes. "And I, I am, I am her most bestest of companions, Baxter!" An excited bark came at the end of his words, and he immediately began sniffing at Mora's shoes, pawing them lightly. "You, you smell like magic too, Miss Mora! And, and I have never met another witch before, so this is very strange!" Certainly one to speak his mind, the pup circled around her rather briskly, before pointing his head up at Linger, staring at him with absolute silence.

"Marabelle. Marabelle Mabel," the magician herself added, looking back up from her extended conversation with the broomstick. She held the item out firmly, sniffling a little. "I bet you don't trust your broom, just because it's old. That's why you don't fly so well. But old brooms work just fine! You just have to treat them nicely." A pause. "...Well, you have to do that for all brooms, I mean, you have to keep them repaired. Repaired nicely. And yours isn't. It's like, uh...like a horse and a rider! You have to trust each other." The idea of trusting an inanimate object was perhaps a strange proposition, but there was conviction enough behind the woman's words to make it clear that she really did believe the advice that she was giving. A moment of silence passed between the two, and Marabelle pushed the broomstick in her hands a little closer to Mora. "Well, go on! Apologize!"

Was that really what she expected?

 

[Semblance]

Arune clutched for dear life onto the wooden stick of his broom, clenching his jaw together as hard as he could. "Ahhhh!!" The adrenaline rushed through his veins and he forced himself to concentrate back on his broom. "Get it together," he said to himself. He heard a splash somewhere near him and he was sure he was going to meet the same fate when his broom abruptly stopped just as he reached the surface of the water. The sudden stop almost threw him into the water, but he managed to stay afloat in the air.

He turned his wide hazel green eyes to the direction where he heard the splash come from. His gaze darted everywhere until he saw multiple rings rippling from the same place in the ocean. However, the boy was nowhere to be found. "Hey Cadence, where did the boy go?" he shouted towards his companion.

"He fell right there." She pointed towards the rippling rings and flew closer. "He's still under the water!"

"Oh shit," Arune muttered and floated right above where the boy had fallen. When there was still no movement after a minute, he slung his backpack off and hung it on the broom. "Alright, I'm going in!" Without another word, he dived into the ocean, letting the piercing cold water envelope him. Adrenaline still pumping through him, Arune kicked his feet together and managed to open his eyes. The salt water burned his delicate eyes, but he forced them to stay open. He dived vertically down through the water until he saw a dark shape appear below him, motivating him to kick even harder. As he approached the limp boy, Arune extended both hands and grabbed his collar. Requiring even more force with twice the weight, the young magician kept kicking until he remerged above the surface.

"Hey! Hey!" He shouted at the boy, giving his face a couple moderate slaps. "Are you okay?" he asked, not knowing if he would receive a reply. As the adrenaline started to wear off, he struggled to keep them both afloat and his extremities began to feel numb from the freezing water.

 

[ch1ps]

She can talk to it? Do brooms even have a voice?

Mora’s eyes widened with curiosity, her body unintentionally bending forwards as she fruitlessly attempted to mimic the girl. An excited squawk snapped her out of her pointless endeavor. “Another witch! And what a peculiar companion. So…small…and…fluffy…and wingless.” Linger showcased her feathers, shooting a proud glance down at the poor pup.

“Oh stop it, you.” Mora gave the bird a light but reprimanding tap. “I think you’re a lovely companion, Baxter.” Mora cocked her head thoughtfully as the red-head, newly identified as Marabelle Mabel, threw herself into a semi-brief monologue discussing the importance of broom up-keep. There were some good points made – and something about horses? Her broom was suddenly pushed towards her, along with a demand for an apology.

Mora smiled, gently retrieving her broom from a pair of reluctant hands. The broom, despite its obvious signs of wear, did appear to be holding up despite all of her antics. And it was true that she had been neglecting it in terms of care. Mrs. Delay never really paid the broom much attention herself, and broom care wasn't exactly a priority during her magic lessons. “Broom.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “I have done you a great disservice. If it truly is the case that you still have a bit of oomph left in you, will you please accept me back as your rider?” Mora pressed her ear against its handle, then glanced up at Marabelle. “I can’t hear it – but does it accept my apology?” The witch didn’t appear to be completely satisfied, but nevertheless Mora’s apology seemed to put her slightly at ease.

“Mora! I hear trouble down the dock!” Linger boosted herself off Mora’s shoulder and began soaring down and in-between the crowd of sailors, passerbys, and ships. “This way!”

Quickly, Mora collected her bags and promptly draped them around her broom. She then proceeded to rush after Linger – on foot. Though she and her broom may have resolved their issues, her lack of skill still very much remained. One collision was enough for today. As she ran she turned to shout back at Marabelle. “Do you think you can get there faster!? Follow Linger!”

 

[_Line 213]

"Thank you Miss Mora!" The pup let out another yelp, tail still swinging back and forth with enough force to tilt the rest of the hound's body ever so slightly. "I, I think that you are a very good witch! And, I think that you have very good fluff too!" The second portion was likely directed at Linger, and made it very clear that Baxter did not quite understand what feathers were. A common mistake for the young and the flightless, perhaps. The little thing was having the absolute time of his life.

Marabelle leaned forward with a long, low hum. "...I think, from what I can tell, it--"

Well, that was going to be a question answered at some other point. Linger's excited squawking both cut Marabelle off and captured her attention, the red-headed girl first looking to the bird, before watching it dart off along the docks. Marabelle's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates, the young woman entering a state of fluster as it became clear that there were others in potential danger. Is this what cities were like? All hustle and bustle and action all the time?

She traded several takes between Mora and her own broom, as if it took her a few moments to understand what the other witch was asking. "U-Uh right! I can do that!" she stammered, immediately pulling at her red skirt as she ran for her steed, as it were. She hefted herself onto the shop broom, and gave it too quick pats. "Up and up, Duster! The bird!" It took the broom a moment to get started, bristles pointing straight behind as it once more let out two loud bangs more akin to a machine than, well, a broom. Perhaps something was a little off in regards to its enchantment.

"Wwoaah!" The broom was enthusiastic, that much was certain; either that, or it some sort of younger breed of broom, if that were a valid way of thinking about such things. Marabelle barely held on as the stick shot off after Linger, her packs and packages clinking, clanging, and dangling as she went. Baxter let out a series of barks from Mora's feet, hopping up and down as he attempted to grab the girl's attention. "Follow me, Miss Mora! It, it's hard to see them through the crowd, but! Ma says I have a very good nose! So, so I can smell Miss Mabel just fine!" The pup barely waited for her, darting off into the crowd with a series of frenzied yips. At the very least, he'd left a trail of sounds to follow.

 

[ch1ps]

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mora found herself fighting back laughter as she maneuvered her way through the crowd. She had long lost sight of her small guide and quickly learned to follow his traces instead. If she couldn’t hear his spontaneous yips of uncontained excitement, she listened for the charmed exclamations of the masses. The majority (including Mora) appeared to find the frenzied fluffball absolutely adorable, and as Baxter purposefully lunged between their feet he left behind a trail of “aww”’s and “oh my god how cute!”s.

It wasn’t long before Mora arrived at the source of panic. A few feet away and semi-submerged from where Baxter was barking and bouncing about were two individuals, both struggling to stay, well, not-drowning. And not-dead. She had never saved anyone before, but she would darn well try. What Mora lacked in magical abilities, she somewhat made up for physically. Within a matter of seconds, she was in the water, one hand each grasping whatever she could of the two boys. Keeping oneself above water was one thing, keeping oneself plus the weight of two full-grown boys afloat was another. Luckily enough, she wasn’t alone in her brave rescue endeavor. Just above the surface of the water appeared two shadows; one in the shape of a bird, the other in the clear shape of a witch – a witch in training.

“I’ve got one, could you get the other?”

Mora gently lifted the two boys in the other witch’s direction, as if to say “Your pick.”

 

[_Line 213]

Baxter came to a stop at the edge of the water, small black nose pointed down at the water as his tail continued to wave; he sent two sharp barks down at those still present in the water, before turning to look at Mora as she emerged from the crowd. Immediately, the young witch jumped in, swimming toward the two boys present in the water. "That, that looks like fun Miss Mora! Can I come?" the dog asked, once more letting out a sharp bark to punctuate his words.

"Stay there Baxter," Marabelle cautioned, slowly lowering her broom as she drifted downward, "we don't want you getting swept away on top of all of this."

Where one might have expected the pup to be disappointed, he showed no sign of any such thing. "Okay! That's okay Miss Mabel! We, we can go swimming later, and it will be nice."

Marabelle turned her slightly-scattered attention to Mora as she spoke, nodding briskly as she continued to lower her broom. "Um--" she looked between the two treading water, pointing out a finger and switching between the two of them a few times over. "T-That one!" she exclaimed, finally settling on the reddish-brown haired boy. It was a stand-out color to her for, well, obvious reasons. Slowly, she continued to descend, some of her hanging bags and boxes dipping lightly into the water. She leaned sideways off of her broom as far as she could go, nearly seeming on the verge of toppling off entirely as she flexed her fingers, sporting that common hope that if she stretched them just a little farther, they might just grow a few extra inches.

"Grab on as tightly as you can, okay? Because we might, um, go up kinda fast, depending."

 

[NightMoves]

A rather painful slap brought Theodore back to the conscious land. The moment he woke he gasped for air, causing him to inhale quite a bit of water in with it. This led him into a fit of coughing and sputtering as he looked around in a panic. He was still in the water, not quite underwater anymore, thankfully, but he was far enough in that some water was still making it into his nose and mouth, making it slightly hard to breathe. A voice came through the sound of his own beating heart, but it was much too muffled for the poor boy to understand. Fear had made a place for itself inside his stomach, but he was absolutely determined to think optimistically about this. Maybe this would be the time where his body would kick into overdrive and learn how to swim himself?

In his panic, Theo didn't even consider the reason as to why he was now above water. He turned his head to look at his savior, seeing a rather nice looking boy struggling to hold him above water. A wave of guilt washed over Theodore as he realized that his own incompetence was probably going to get them both killed. If only he had learned to swim...but the water was so intimidating. How could anyone intentionally jump into a deep pit of liquid?

A loud splash caused Theodore to look in another direction. An angel almost fully clad in a blinding white was making their way towards the duo. As she approached, Theodore chose to cling to her with one hand, as his other hand was still occupied by his broom. Even though he was in a life threatening situation, he had held onto his broom this whole time, even during the time that he was unconscious. He would rather die than lose such a precious family heirloom. Another girl appeared above the now trio. There was also a bird and a particularly cute dog. He made a note to pet it once he wasn't in such a dangerous state. "P-please help me out of here..." He begged the angel.

 

[Semblance]

"Candace, go get help!" Arune shouted above the water. Without another word, he saw the amber nightingale flutter away as fast as her little wings could carry her. Even though he knew help would be on the way, he was worried how much longer he could keep both of them above the water, as it would be a while before the bird could communicate to someone what she needed on top of the extra boat rowing time. He could feel his legs starting to give out, but he forced his feet to keep kicking and stay afloat.

Suddenly, two shapes approaching from a distance caught his attention. His piercing hazel green eyes narrowed until he made out two girls on brooms. More witches! He could hardly think of the implications, however, as he kept one arm propped around the boy and threw the other arm excitedly in the air. "Over here!"

One of the girls, fully clad in white, arrived first. "Take him first," Arune grunted at her, using all of his strength to haul the boy out of the water and onto her broom. "Thank you. Could you get him to shore? I'm not sure if he's going to be okay..." he said to the girl, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Just then, the boy let out a slurred speech and begged for help. "We'll help you. Don't worry, bud," he reassured him. It felt like a ton had been uplifted from him after the broom supported most of the drowning boy's weight.

After he was certain the boy was steady on the girl clad in white's broom, he looked over at the other girl with the fiery hair. Arune managed a half-smile on his face and clutched both of his fists onto her broom. "Thank you," he sighed.

"Arune!" A familiar chirp caught his attention and he turned his head to see Cadence zooming back through the skies. "Are you okay, Arune?" she asked frantically as she neared. "Oh your dad is going to kill me if I let you die less than a week later."

 

[ch1ps]

Let’s start with the arms. Mora was completely out of breath and sapped of energy as she strenuously pulled and pushed the brunette onto the docks, part by part. Although he appeared to be conscious his body was still, for the most part, limp. Ok now for his feet. Mora reluctantly jumped back into the water with a loud splash. She tugged the boy’s feet up, letting escape a small groan when his arms fell back by his sides. Maybe I should start with his torso…hmm…One…Two…Three! She dipped down and wrapped her arms around his waist, hoping that the force of her resurfacing would be enough to get the stranger fully up and out of the water. At last the boy was out. She glanced over at Marabelle – she seemed to have everything under control, too.

“Hey kid, you gonna be OK?"

Linger pressed her feet against the boy’s face, probing and poking as she awaited a response.

“Good job, Linger,” Mora softly rubbed the bid’s head before turning towards Baxter, who was being a very good pup and waiting as patiently as he possibly could for his witch to return. “You too, Baxter. You both were amazing!” Returning her attention back to the boy, Mora helped him sit up, and gave him a few hard pats on the back. “Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?”

 

[_Line 213]

Spoiler: Four Magicians

"Yes! Thank you Miss Mora! I am amazing! And I know that, 'cause, 'cause ma said so before I left!" Baxter's tail seemingly never stopped moving, even when he was being "patient;" to an extent, it seemed that he was barely so at all, yet to those who had been observing him for more than a few moments, there was nonetheless a marked difference between his moments of activity and moments of, well, less-active activity. Though his tail continued to move, the rest of him remained nearly stationary, his head always pointed squarely in the direction of what he was waiting on, and his mouth shut tight and silent. As soon as Marabelle and the red-headed boy began to rise upward from the water, however, the pup took a sharp upturn in excitement, letting out a few barks.

"Okay, eaaasy Duster, easy!" Marabelle cautioned, the broom slowly making its way over to the bank. Perhaps a little too slowly, even, but considering just how willing it was to fire off into the sky earlier on, this was perhaps a good thing. Marabelle looked up as the nightingale returned, blinking a little bit as she looked to the parrotlet upon the docks. "Two feathered familiars?" she exclaimed, seemingly a little taken aback by the coincidence. That said, however, she had also run into a second redhead, all while in the midst of quite the kerfuffle, so perhaps there were other things worth being surprised about in the long run.

The long journey back to the shoreline ended with the light touching-down of the boy's feet upon the wooden walkway thanks to Marabelle's continued coaxing, the witch letting out a quick sigh as the broom completed its task, lowering itself to proper disembarking height. Marabelle pulled herself off of Duster, the various packs tied to the handle still continuing to clink and jingle with every movement. A sharp outward breath, and she brushed off her blouse and plopped her hands on her hips.

"...Well! That was...something, I suppose--" before she could continue, however, her yelping pup bounded up to her, prompting Marabelle to reach down quickly in order to scoop the leaping pup up into her arms. The alternative, after all, was for him to miss completely and end up in the water. Not that Baxter would have minded all that much--a swim was a swim, after all, whether scheduled or not.

"Miss Mabel! Miss Mabel! Miss Mora said that I was amazing! I'm amazing, Miss Mabel! Aren't I amazing?" Of course, the witch could barely respond to the foxhound's rapid-fire speech, as his tongue ended up being as quick as his words, lapping at Marabelle's face without a care in the world, and prompting quite a few giggles from the girl herself.

"Yes, yes! You were, you were--and are! Okay, okay now--Baxter, I--Baxter! We need time for introductions now, please!"

The pup slowly decelerated, and not even all the way--he simply went from furious licking to furious wriggling, so much so that Marabelle could barely keep her arms around him. "Yes! Yes! Sorry, Miss Mabel! We are introducting now, and I am Baxter!" Of course, at that point, everyone likely already knew that, at the very least.

 

[NightMoves]

Spoiler: Cute dogs make everything better! ... I guess it's also great not to be dead!

An immense feeling of relief washed over the young wizard as he felt actual ground beneath him. Never before had he been so afraid, and never again did he want to be that afraid. Although getting into the water had been quite menacing before, now he was sure that large, and even medium, bodies of water were just set on the earth to kill poor magicians like himself. As the angel set him up, he let out a series of coughs as water attempted to exit his lungs. "N-no, I'm fine." He said, his voice still shaking from the absolutely terrifying experience that he had just been through.

The boy took a few breaths, calming down rather quickly considering that he had been on the verge of death just moments before. The background antics of a particularly cute dog probably had something to do with his swift recovery. He could absolutely NOT WAIT to pet that adorable little fluff ball.

But that could wait...probably. It would be rude not to introduce himself and thank his saviors. He shook his head back and forth, attempting to remove some of the moisture from his curly black locks. Unsurprisingly, his hair was still standing in a mess atop his head, even though he had just taken a dive into the largest body of water he had ever seen. His hair probably held about a gallon of water at this point, and it was still standing up. This was a normal occurrence.

Due to his shaking, a few droplets water spattered onto his heavenly clad savior. "Haha, sorry!" He said with a shocking amount of pep in his voice. It was as if he had gotten over his near death experience in an instance, which he honestly did. To him, now that it was over, it wasn't a big deal at all. He looked to the girl that he had just assaulted with his hair water, and noticed that she wasn't an angel after all. In his water induced daze, he had sworn that he had met an actual anger. Oh well, it was just as grand of an encounter, as she was just as pretty as one.

He pulled the broom that had remained clutched tightly in his hand during the whole endeavor. Although there was a few green bits hanging from the thistles, the broom seemed to be unharmed. This caused the wizard to let out a relieved sigh. If something had happened to the broom that he cherished so much, he would have never forgiven himself. With that matter settled, he situated himself to where he could face his three saviors and their familiars. "Thanks for saving me! I...never really learned how to swim and I don't know what, but something just hit me so hard that I couldn't regain control of my broom!" He rambled quickly as he took off one of his shoes and poured a very afraid looking fish back into the treacherous water. So that's what had been wiggling between his toes...

"I'm Theodore by the way, Theodore Hobbs! Everyone just calls me Theo though, well...my parents and the old man in the forest...so, basically everyone." He looked to the extremely rambunctious pup with a smile. Although he had almost just drowned and was absolutely soaked with water, there was a ridiculously cute pup in front of him. "Baxter, huh? Good rescue! You're such a good pup~!"

 

[_Line 213]

"Yes! I am!" the pup said, now wriggling in Theodore's direction from the confines of Marabelle's arms. With another light laugh, coupled with an "okay, okay," the witch slowly and carefully moved to set Baxter down upon the ground so that he could make his way over to the boy; despite his previously unrestrained physical excitement, Baxter immediately calmed as Marabelle moved to set him down on the dock, legs positioned carefully as he touched the ground, tail frozen in concentration, as if regaining his footing were a very serious affair. Yet, as soon as his paws had touched solid wood, and Marabelle had let go of his thin little coat, the pup immediately shot back into motion, bounding toward Theodore as he ran loops around his legs, looking up as his tail flicked back and forth like a frenzied pendulum.

"It's nice to meet you, Mister, Mister Hobbs!" For a pup so young (though he of course thought of himself as being anything but), he certainly was remarkably formal. "Gosh! This is so, so much magic at once! My nose is tingling, Miss Mabel! It sort of makes me want to--" Before the hound could finish, his nose did the work for him, letting out an odd combination of a snort and a sneeze. The pup immediately pawed at his nose in confusion afterward; judging by the look he was giving his snout, he had never actually experienced that particular sensation for himself. "...Oh."

Marabelle reached up, patting her fluffy hair in thought as she looked between the now assembled group, blinking as she took note of the boy's mention of a broom. "So...does this all mean that we're all traveling magicians?" she asked, now moving to count the present familiars. Two birds, a pup, and...hold one moment, someone was missing. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it quickly, glancing around with a sudden spurt of seemingly-worried thought, even going so far as to duck down to check between everyone's legs. "But wait, if that's the case, wouldn't that mean that we're missing a familiar?" She looked back to Theodore, now a little wide-eyed. "You came with one, right? Where's the last place you saw them? They couldn't have gotten lost already, could they?"

 

[ch1ps]

Eyes wide, Mora unconsciously took a step back as if to remove herself from the situation and fully observe what exactly was going on. With all that had happened, she needed to take at least a second to absorb it all. Day one of her training and she'd already met three other magic folk, two of which had nearly died. The boy she'd rescued, now identified as "Theodore Hobbs," appeared to be in good condition - though Mora couldn't quite pinpoint whether or not his rambling was a side-effect of his near-death experience. Quickly scanning the boy for any hidden injuries, she let out a small grunt of satisfaction before letting her gaze fall upon Baxter, whom - as expected - was being smothered with compliments.

Mora looked around the group in confusion as Marabelle suddenly began crouching and bending about. Had she lost something? Mora followed her gaze, stepping aside and lifting her feet for good measure. "Wait!" the girl declared. According to Marabelle, the group was missing a familiar - specifically, Theodore's. Mora blinked, snapping her head around to re-examine Theodore. How had she missed that!?

"She's right! Where in the world is your familiar!?" Linger repeated the phrase, giving him a few extra pecks on the cheek.

 

[_Line 213]

Baxter plodded over to the edge of the dock, peering over the edge with a curious eye--an eye which, it seemed, was drawing him closer and closer to the water without much-needed interference from his brain. Indeed, by the time the pup realized he could go no farther, he was dangerously close to teetering right into the water himself, though he seemed more concerned with keeping up the search either way.

"Well, well, well I don't see anyone in the water!" he eventually exclaimed; his ever-wagging tail seemed to have reigned itself in, if only because too much swaying would send him right off the dock, "maybe they can swim really well! Can they swim really well?"

Marabelle reached up, giving her head several more pats as she thought through the question, eventually turning it into one that would be a little more helpful, all things considered. "...Ah, to partly rephrase, I suppose, what sort of familiar are they exactly? We can't really look around without actually knowing what we're searching for, can we?" She pursed her lips, seeming a little concerned as she tried to search through her memory. Everything was something of a blur; did she remember a familiar of any sort being near the boy when he fell into the water? Had he come over the lake? Surely he would have noticed if his familiar had gone missing over the course of the morning journey, so that meant that they had to be somewhere nearby. "Maybe they're lost in the crowd?"