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diatu2019-05-22 03:37 pm
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Dance Dance Reprobation
Neither tree nor stone form the Promenade now. It is instead a long bridge over a shallow and brilliant pool, the gentle ripples of which catch the afternoon sun and scatter it into a million highlights that play over the Great Hall, the bridge, and those who walk down it. There is no formal receiving line, merely a gentle procession of people across the bridge at whatever speed feels comfortable, slowly making their way to the Great Hall. The Great Hall itself has been enchanted to be completely invisible while one is inside it, save for the outline of doors so people can actually find their way out through means other than smacking their noses into the invisible walls till they find a place with no resistance. Thus the twilight for which the ball is named will show all around the dancers, while they are protected from any errant breezes, faint hints of rain, or slime monsters that might otherwise threaten the festivity. Come in. Find your date and get comfortable. The fun is just beginning.
But as the dance progresses, they play something for everyone. Martial waltzes and slow dance ballroom numbers. Powerful tunes to lose yourself in, and gentle melodies that slip beneath conversation and encourage intimacy and closeness. Professors Trammel and King treat everyone to an exhibition of what an Earth resident might call 'swing dancing on amphetamines' and many students do call 'the closest I have ever come to death'. No pause for speeches, no announcements or interruptions -- just a steady stream of music, bringing dates and lovers together in dance, as the sun sets and casts the room into gentle and romantic twilight. Also a dolphin and a whale are swimming through the floor and they, too, are unmistakably dancing. If this is the weirdest thing you've seen all night, you need your eyes checked.
At one end of the table, an owl the size of a cupboard sits on a perch, serenely watching the varied drinks laid out for consumption. 'Spiking the punch' is so cliche that no one is going to pretend it won't happen or the students will behave on their honor, so here you get a chaperone. Even so, this whole area is a popular gathering spot for those between dances or partners, drawing steady attention throughout the night.
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"...Are either of you familiar with the idea of shattering glass with sound?" Noa asks 'rhetorically', humming another note as he focuses on the barrier.
If it reacts- and only if it reacts- he'll put into play an idea. "...Adelai," he remarks for seemingly little reason. "We're going to need a bit of help."
Specifically, a choir of help, provided his hunch is right. If they can shatter a barrier with the right amount of intent and musical force, then there they are!
x.x crashes late
"Familiar enough. All right."
Kaiba will do what he can, which isn't much, except to stomp in some approximation of the rhythm. He feels ridiculous, but if this has a chance of getting them closer to their goal...
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[Well, it seems that barrier sure did react to their combined magic once they built it up with more music and more penguins.]
... Shattering glass is cute, but I've seen bagpipes make rocks explode. Beat that!
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The answer is probably books.
A few of the penguins are still humming the notes of whatever they used to break the wall, and Noa himself opts to begin pressing forward. On the one hand, pushing ahead is an easy, mindless task- as long as he doesn't expect any traps again. (Hopefully there are no traps)
On the other, he's finding himself curiously bored by the motions only a little ways into the tunnel, simply following the lead of the others.
Which is impressive since until a few minutes ago he was probably trying to take the lead himself.
The penguins are faring similarly- Adelai is actually asleep in fact. But at least he's still moving forward...
...Possibly humming that tune still. It's stuck in his head alright?
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As they descend, it gets significantly more difficult. He quickens his pace in an attempt to shut out the elements around him, but the cold will not be denied. He won't bow to something as ridiculous as the weather...will he?
But the ice is so numbing it doesn't even register as cold anymore. It's more like an invisible solid sheet strangling him in place. His mouth doesn't seem to want to work anymore either.
"Ugh---"
And that's all he manages.
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Which probably speaks to the fact there was more magic at work than mundane, but that's exactly what they did to a force field just earlier. The dragon has the guitar strapped away again between his wings. And then as the group is further in, apparently it's immediately odd for Spyro when there's a feeling of the cold trying to worm its way past his scales- trying to impress how comfortable it would be to curl up with his inner fire as warmth, to shut down and nap. Hibernate until...
... Hibernate?! Since when?
Cold is right. Spyro doubles back to Seto after bracing his mental defenses as Ire dictated in a letter, nudging at him. "Hey, you gotta pull yourself together! That other dragon is close, I bet...!"
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And Spyro shouts, giving Noa something of a jolt. Only a little one, but enough that he's blinking a bit confusedly about what's going on. "Hnn- what...what on..."
It's so strange, really, this feels almost like how most people start experiencing hypothermia, or...
oh that's bad actually
Subconsciously, he starts rubbing against his arms, choking a bit at the mental idea of curling up in an icy cave forever. Nope. Bad. That's Bad.
So the upside is he's no longer thinking about curling into a ball.
The downside is that he's...just thinking about staying warm.
Someone, please, light a Fire,
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He clenches a fist and crouches low, huddling a little closer to him. Sorry, Spyro, but he needs to stay focused. He reaches into his bottomless pocket, searching for anything that could be useful---ah, there's powder. Usually used for sleeping, but anything he can draw with will work.
It's just a matter of keeping his hand steady. He grips his wrist with the opposite hand as he draws loose lines, willing a short wall of fire to appear.
Let them thaw for now---he'll work out how to carry the warmth with him soon, when he brain thaws.
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Or would it? Magic is tricky.
"What's going on could be something in that Dictation area of magic too. If that ghost dragon is native to here like Ire thinks, he warned me that they might use mind tricks."
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He's just a little frustrated. If there's one thing he's learned about Fantastics thus far, it's that it's one part illusion and one part wordplay, so trying to think of a way to combat this from his limited knowledge on top of the fog is...a struggle at best.
....
"...Does anyone know a campfire song."
Yes he's serious.
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Kaiba digs his fingernails into his palms. "Fire can be made with friction. The glyph should...therefore be drawn quickly.
His strokes are hurried, but he's pouring all his concentration into making them precise. He repeats this over and over again. He can't stop.
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Boo then. Noa tries to think of something that works. Anything that works, really. He even focuses his eye on Kaiba's glyphics, and yet somehow...
Somehow he finds himself caring less and less about this. Somehow, his eyes narrowing, the penguins behind him dwindling number by number as they too are struck by apathy, he feels he's going about this the wrong way.
The...illogical way.
And later he'll recognize what happened of course- the slow drain of emotions that came when he was a computer, left to nothing but a bitter goal and cold logic. But that's later.
This is now. Noa doesn't even scoff- scoffing would imply there was a reason to be haughty, even. Instead he merely picks up speed. Motion means heat, not that he feels much of the cold around him now. He'll just walk onward- not because he wants to, or feels the need to, but simply because that was what he was already doing and why bother doing anything else?
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He doesn't need this.
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Spyro peers uncertainly between the two as they go in opposite directions. Keep the party together or drag the stubborn one into going back? Then after a moment, he makes his decision, running after Noa and then clamping his teeth into the boy's sleeve.
"Worse than Hunter, I swear...!" the dragon adds- his words, of course, a bit muffled by the fabric as he yanks backward.
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So Spyro's solution to the impromptu tug-o-war is to thankfully let go... before snapping his jaws closer to Noa's actual arm- okay no it's a grab directly onto the boy's arm with only the loose fabric as a meager barrier. How rude.
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After a moment he slaps warmth into his face, lights a small torch, and starts alone down the corridor one more time. There's a light approaching from the distance, but we'll see how far he gets.
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"Ugh fine!!! But if we're gonna keep going, then I need you to follow my lead on this technique before we move...!"
... Which might clear the other's head enough for them to go back after Seto if necessary.
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Logically, if he listens to the dragon, he can continue pressing forward the way he simply Is.
"Fine," he answers tonelessly. "Show me."
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