Chapter 163: 163
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As Justice lead Orison around the main event areas and towards the lift, he said, "Quite a few of the pheromone producers who have control effects or narcotic-like withdraw symptoms, such as Juniper, suffer from Mosswife Syndrome. Over time, their victims build up a tolerance and start to have adverse reactions to being exposed to it. It has a wide range from registering the pheromones as an extremely unpleasant smell or even typical allergic responses. It makes it very hard for them to have long term relationships.
"She's a liaison to the UTF like my sister and I. We were accidentally exposed to her body fluids during a dorm rescue incident. A broad spectrum psionic had completely lost control of their gift... Her and my sister were never really more than friends but I... She said some hurtful things, I think, to cut it off quickly when I started breaking out in hives after we were... close. She's a 'rip the band aid off' type."
Orison sighed. "I can appreciate that you have a soft spot for her. Maybe if I was in your shoes, I would too. But what would I have been looking at if I didn't want to play games with her?"
Reluctantly, Justice said, "It's hard to tell. Worse case scenario would be a series of twenty shots over a three month period but I doubt it would be even close to that bad."
Thoroughly cleaned, Orison called for a break while he reattached the missing part of his finger and healed it. There was a little loss of sensation that would take a couple of days to return and a scar line that would take a bit longer to fade away but it was otherwise functional.
Looking pained to say it, Justice asked, "Do you want to file a compensation claim?"
Blandly, Orison said, "No, but a notation stating that I'd prefer someone else if for some reason I needed to interact with her in a professional context would be appreciated."
With what looked like a subtle sigh of relief, Justice quickly agreed to handle it. While he was logging the request on The Weird, the gray eyed man knocked out showing Orison how to connect as well.
A quarter way up the lift, justice said, "I've received an update on your status. Please be calm. It's nothing bad... For safety reasons, you're being moved to Second Heaven."
Alert, Orison said, "Be completely honest with me. Have they decided to stash me away like they did in the original plan?"
The young mage frowned and said, "Give me your best reasoning behind why."
Justice said, "It's the logistics behind monitoring versus privacy needs. Because of certain low but constant risks you pose, you need to be monitored but because of certain secrecy protection acts, that monitoring would almost all be manual. That's a lot of manpower only to keep a general eye on you that will likely be nothing but a waste of time and probably fail the moment it might actually be needed.
"You've shown a lot of promise and been a good thing for Avalon. Above all but service to the greater good, we are a meritocracy. To that end, the Triumvirate has deemed this the best solution. Complete personal privacy is provided and threat mostly eliminated. Compromise to respect your needs and comfort will keep the relationship between you and Avalon positive and a space resource that's currently being wasted will be put to use."
Rubbing his forehead, Orison said, "Is there any other possible surprises I should be aware of?"
Justice nodded. "In the case that the residence you selected is deemed more needful to another inhabitant of Avalon, you'll need to move again. For that reason, if I were you, I'd select the lake house. It's, in my opinion, the nicest and also the least unique. The mountainside home has significantly less usable space and was built to easily convert to multiple aviary styles. The other is mostly built into the terrain floor of the second level and was constructed to cater to an individual with greater strength that has difficulty pulling it back to a human level."
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Orison said, "Sounds like I was given options that weren't really options for the sake of itself."
Frowning, Justice said, "When stated that way, it does appear so. Perhaps they meant it with good intentions but the dishonesty of that is quite disturbing."
"It shouldn't be. It's basic psychology. Tell someone a specific place is their new home and they feel pressured. Give them a couple of unattractive options that make the original place seem a pleasant offer and the person takes it much more readily, sometimes even thankfully," Orison offered blandly.
On the rest of the lift ride, Justice and Orison hashed out the finer details of the move and how it would affect things. Once they reached the top, both of them went to the dressing room and changed back into their original outfits. The young mage ended up waiting for Justice to come out.
Upon seeing that he was still there, the gray eyed man said, "That was the end of what would have been Liberty's duty. Since you didn't decide to stay on the island, I doubt you need a chaperon to enjoy the water park... If you insist..."
Orison chuckled. "No. I don't need someone to hold my hand and show me around. I just wanted to let you know that I'm planning on having a home welcoming party for the person I redeemed from the irregulars. It'll be next Saturday evening and I want you and your sister there. If I say there will be margaritas, do you understand why?"
With a torn expression, Justice said, "If I can't make it, I'll make sure Liberty can."
"Why wouldn't you be able to make it?" Orison said.
The gray eyed man said, "If I cover for my sister, best case scenario is two in the morning. There is no cap on worst case scenarios."
The young mage said, "Get us to a spot with no visuals."
A few moments later, in a changing room stall, Orison concentrated inward for a bit and then withdrew his hand from a waterproof tote. "Don't take the note in there as a polite suggestion. Also, both of you need to figure out how to get to my room unseen. That buys you both til six and the cover story Dr. Odd gave me can still be bought. Since you're a worst scenario kind of guy, expect to lose four hours afterwards. I doubt you and your sister have near the amount of tolerance buildup to such things as Aurora and Dr. Odd do."
Justice nodded gravely as he clutched the tote with white knuckles.
"I ask with purpose. Were you born a biologically functioning woman or a man?" the young mage asked with a steely face.
Justice blanched but answered, "True half. If you're asking for medical reasons, it isn't fully genetics related but an expression of supernatural heritage."
Orison frowned thoughtfully and said, "Give me the marker you got at the vendor."
He stuck his hand back in the tote for a moment and the sound of marker squiggles.
Putting the cap back on, he handed the marker to Justice and said. "I assumed your sister is the same. There are two sets of medicine in three different containers. They are marked in a way you can easily figure out what it means. The one marked with both favors your supernatural heritage over your mortal one which means I can't rightly tell you what will happen because I don't know and don't believe I need to know anymore of your personal story...
"All I ask is that you return what doesn't get used. Take it right before the rest or it won't be strong enough to give a full effect considering how much metaphysical punch will be needed. It's probably a lot to think about but you have a week."
Conflicted, Justice added, "You're asking a lot of faith and trust from us."
Orison just shrugged. "My conscience is satisfied that I've done what I need to do to be square with you and then some for all you've done for me. If you need some validation, ask Dr. Odd. He'd verify that you could snort a line of anthrax before taking the rest of that and have little worse than a sore nose, irritated lungs and a resistance to bacterial diseases to show for it. That said, don't be adding anything to the mix. Results would only get more unpredictable."
Feeling like he spent enough attention on an issue that made him uncomfortable no matter how open minded and 'woke' he tried to be about it, Orison excused himself and left Justice with his thoughts. In an effort to shake off some mental exhaustion, he laid out a lounge chair on the clothing optional beach after finding that it was mostly empty. He didn't remain alone for long.
"I've never really gotten a good grip on how places like this work. Is it weirder to approach and set up shop near someone you kind of know and try to be social or to observe the maximum possible amount of personal space rules that guys follow in public bathrooms," Roy said, looking awkward with two arms fully loaded with stuff.
Orison replied, "For me, right now? It depends on whether what's in that cooler is actually cold and your willingness to share it if it is. I'm feeling supremely lazy at the moment."
Relieved, Roy set up the lounge chair and spread his junk around it. "All the cheap beer a handful of people could want for the couple of hours it'll be cold. Ran late trying to come armed and ready to make some new friends but only found a passed out old one and a bunch of kids with intake personnel babysitters... Oh well. It's a day pass and I don't have work tonight on this rotation."
Orison weakly chuckled and said, "If you want some real excitement at the cost of jangled nerves, I could get you past the doorman by the entrance to the Islands of Truth. There's a good deal going on EO Pan that's probably going to keep it closed off to the public til tomorrow from what I caught glimpses of."
The man shuddered and said, "I get enough up close time with Triumvirate subordinates during work. I think I'd rather go to the Island of Brutal Truth for a weekend and that expensive little vacation put a guy I know in therapy for a couple of months. His own damn fault. He crossed the territory line of it's permanent, live-in staff on a dare and got too authentic an experience.
"Now, it'd be great if you could drop me off on Naked Truth and they let me stay after the public seal lifted. I probably wouldn't be able to hang for long but I'd give it my best try... Two more years of graveyard and I get to go to days. I can't believe Turner signed for another two. The little retirement kicker doesn't seem worth it at all."
The young mage laid back and played passive listener, soaking up nuggets of information between the woes of a planar response team member. He was a bit shocked to find out that Roy was only twenty-four. He looked slightly older than Turner and that man was twenty-eight but looked a little prematurely aged himself. There were probably some heavy costs to some of the equipment that Roy used for his work.
Feeling a little sympathy and a touch of gratitude for some of the pearls of wisdom Roy threw his way, Orison said, "Do you still have Sunday off next week?"
The equipment guy said, "I'm on call but pretty low on the list."
The young mage offered, "Saturday night I'm going to be having a welcoming party for the guy I redeemed. It's not going to be anything big and it's probably going to be a bachelor hell but I'm shelling out for good eats and drinks. If you just want to swing by for the main event but have other stuff you'd like to do before hand, best time would be a few minutes before midnight."
Roy thought it over and said, "Why not. I'll swing by this retired cockroach's place, exchange a little stress relief and then head to your place."
"Sounds like you have a plan... What's a retired cockroach?" the young mage said with a confused smile.
Suddenly looking a little ashamed of himself, Roy said, "A rude label that good people don't like to hear."
A deep but conversely youthful voice said, "A Rowdy chaser that caught more than one with the baby trap. They live off of child support or survivor's benefits and upgrade from a cockroach to a retired cockroach when one of their kids grow up and become a Rowdy."
Face red from sun and embarrassment, Roy said, "Garret, you know I wasn't- I mean-"
With a weak smile, Garret cut him off. "My mom knows what she is. Sometimes I think she's proud of it. Honestly, when you look and see that almost a third of the current Rowdies roster is made up of cockroach kids, maybe she should be. It's not like there's a line of so called respectable women looking to start up anything serious with a 'scarecrow'."
Seeing the young mage's puzzled expression, the hulking teen said, "Scarecrows are the rank and file of the Rowdies. Broad spectrum C-class physical augments mostly. You could make a book outta this stuff... Just explaining things so don't get bent about it, Roy... A behind the back term for Roy would be a roman candle and some might call Turner a C-weed."
Roy sighed and said, "I won't but let me say what they mean... It'll sting less. They call me a roman candle because people who do what I do are usually seen as flunkies not quite gifted enough to be core or a Rowdy. No eye catching trait to pull me into support.
"With a decent spread of spiritual or physical augment and a little technical schooling, you can sell your years to the rift sealer or some other life stealing device to keep from the farm, factory or service industry... But I am exactly what I set out to be. And Turner might be a spotty broad spectrum C-class that could have made the Rowdies if he busted his rump but he chose to be planar response team from the get go. He wanted a chance of making something like a real family. He didn't fall to the weeds."
Garret ended up being fairly knowledgeable about things in his own way and the three chatted some before the noon announcement/ event advertisements were given. Even something as simple as sunbathing was capable of pointing out obvious differences between them. Roy had flipped himself about as many times as he could without becoming well-done all over while Garret was only showing the slightest bit of redness under his already slightly tanned skin. As for Orison, a random passerby would think he had just laid out.
Right as Roy really had no choice but to call it quits, the young mage hit him with a healing and asked for the man's coldest in the cooler as compensation. Right as they lapsed into a comfortable silence, it was broken by a bird-like woman's voice speaking broken Common made worse by obvious nervousness. It was the waiting room girl from the dorm's mother.
After she had introduced herself as Maria Espinal, the mother of Celeste, she went on to thank him profusely for signing over his merit purchased house rights and services for her and the three girls she'd be taking care of. Orison explained that it was only an attempt to see them not go to waste. Most of it was non-transferable or refundable for various reasons.
In the face of her tearful gratitude, he almost felt bad how he'd done it mostly out of whim. Mainly to keep Rio from making absurd requests, it was also because Celeste's familiar, Rocky, somewhat started to resemble a spectral copy of the eternium core golems he'd made once. With a lot of the false and foreign memories stripped away, things that inspired nostalgia for his time on Amoril was almost absurdly strong.
It turned out that she had been a chiropractor's assistant and knew her way around a back and its muscles. Despite being a mundane, she had a strong set of hands and Orison found himself surprised as he fought off a momentary desire to slip into half trance, it was so relaxing. Seeing that the young mage enjoyed it so much, Roy weaseled a realigning massage out of her too with a promise to advertise among his friends.
With Roy otherwise engaged, Orison noticed that there was an antsy impatience that began edging into Garret as time slipped by and their little social activity drew to a natural close. Politely parting ways with Roy, he endured another round of thanks from Maria. Seeing that Garret was keen to follow but trying to find some reasonable excuse to, Orison decided to be nice and ask the teen if he knew a good place to get lunch in the water park.
It was obvious that Garret had some kind of difficult request to ask but Orison had questions of his own. He had a lot more to gain by hearing the savvy teen out. And ultimately, a firm 'no' didn't take too much effort if it came down to it.
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As Justice lead Orison around the main event areas and towards the lift, he said, "Quite a few of the pheromone producers who have control effects or narcotic-like withdraw symptoms, such as Juniper, suffer from Mosswife Syndrome. Over time, their victims build up a tolerance and start to have adverse reactions to being exposed to it. It has a wide range from registering the pheromones as an extremely unpleasant smell or even typical allergic responses. It makes it very hard for them to have long term relationships.
"She's a liaison to the UTF like my sister and I. We were accidentally exposed to her body fluids during a dorm rescue incident. A broad spectrum psionic had completely lost control of their gift... Her and my sister were never really more than friends but I... She said some hurtful things, I think, to cut it off quickly when I started breaking out in hives after we were... close. She's a 'rip the band aid off' type."
Orison sighed. "I can appreciate that you have a soft spot for her. Maybe if I was in your shoes, I would too. But what would I have been looking at if I didn't want to play games with her?"
Reluctantly, Justice said, "It's hard to tell. Worse case scenario would be a series of twenty shots over a three month period but I doubt it would be even close to that bad."
Thoroughly cleaned, Orison called for a break while he reattached the missing part of his finger and healed it. There was a little loss of sensation that would take a couple of days to return and a scar line that would take a bit longer to fade away but it was otherwise functional.
Looking pained to say it, Justice asked, "Do you want to file a compensation claim?"
Blandly, Orison said, "No, but a notation stating that I'd prefer someone else if for some reason I needed to interact with her in a professional context would be appreciated."
With what looked like a subtle sigh of relief, Justice quickly agreed to handle it. While he was logging the request on The Weird, the gray eyed man knocked out showing Orison how to connect as well.
A quarter way up the lift, justice said, "I've received an update on your status. Please be calm. It's nothing bad... For safety reasons, you're being moved to Second Heaven."
Alert, Orison said, "Be completely honest with me. Have they decided to stash me away like they did in the original plan?"
The young mage frowned and said, "Give me your best reasoning behind why."
Justice said, "It's the logistics behind monitoring versus privacy needs. Because of certain low but constant risks you pose, you need to be monitored but because of certain secrecy protection acts, that monitoring would almost all be manual. That's a lot of manpower only to keep a general eye on you that will likely be nothing but a waste of time and probably fail the moment it might actually be needed.
"You've shown a lot of promise and been a good thing for Avalon. Above all but service to the greater good, we are a meritocracy. To that end, the Triumvirate has deemed this the best solution. Complete personal privacy is provided and threat mostly eliminated. Compromise to respect your needs and comfort will keep the relationship between you and Avalon positive and a space resource that's currently being wasted will be put to use."
Rubbing his forehead, Orison said, "Is there any other possible surprises I should be aware of?"
Justice nodded. "In the case that the residence you selected is deemed more needful to another inhabitant of Avalon, you'll need to move again. For that reason, if I were you, I'd select the lake house. It's, in my opinion, the nicest and also the least unique. The mountainside home has significantly less usable space and was built to easily convert to multiple aviary styles. The other is mostly built into the terrain floor of the second level and was constructed to cater to an individual with greater strength that has difficulty pulling it back to a human level."
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Orison said, "Sounds like I was given options that weren't really options for the sake of itself."
Frowning, Justice said, "When stated that way, it does appear so. Perhaps they meant it with good intentions but the dishonesty of that is quite disturbing."
"It shouldn't be. It's basic psychology. Tell someone a specific place is their new home and they feel pressured. Give them a couple of unattractive options that make the original place seem a pleasant offer and the person takes it much more readily, sometimes even thankfully," Orison offered blandly.
On the rest of the lift ride, Justice and Orison hashed out the finer details of the move and how it would affect things. Once they reached the top, both of them went to the dressing room and changed back into their original outfits. The young mage ended up waiting for Justice to come out.
Upon seeing that he was still there, the gray eyed man said, "That was the end of what would have been Liberty's duty. Since you didn't decide to stay on the island, I doubt you need a chaperon to enjoy the water park... If you insist..."
Orison chuckled. "No. I don't need someone to hold my hand and show me around. I just wanted to let you know that I'm planning on having a home welcoming party for the person I redeemed from the irregulars. It'll be next Saturday evening and I want you and your sister there. If I say there will be margaritas, do you understand why?"
With a torn expression, Justice said, "If I can't make it, I'll make sure Liberty can."
"Why wouldn't you be able to make it?" Orison said.
The gray eyed man said, "If I cover for my sister, best case scenario is two in the morning. There is no cap on worst case scenarios."
The young mage said, "Get us to a spot with no visuals."
A few moments later, in a changing room stall, Orison concentrated inward for a bit and then withdrew his hand from a waterproof tote. "Don't take the note in there as a polite suggestion. Also, both of you need to figure out how to get to my room unseen. That buys you both til six and the cover story Dr. Odd gave me can still be bought. Since you're a worst scenario kind of guy, expect to lose four hours afterwards. I doubt you and your sister have near the amount of tolerance buildup to such things as Aurora and Dr. Odd do."
Justice nodded gravely as he clutched the tote with white knuckles.
"I ask with purpose. Were you born a biologically functioning woman or a man?" the young mage asked with a steely face.
Justice blanched but answered, "True half. If you're asking for medical reasons, it isn't fully genetics related but an expression of supernatural heritage."
Orison frowned thoughtfully and said, "Give me the marker you got at the vendor."
He stuck his hand back in the tote for a moment and the sound of marker squiggles.
Putting the cap back on, he handed the marker to Justice and said. "I assumed your sister is the same. There are two sets of medicine in three different containers. They are marked in a way you can easily figure out what it means. The one marked with both favors your supernatural heritage over your mortal one which means I can't rightly tell you what will happen because I don't know and don't believe I need to know anymore of your personal story...
"All I ask is that you return what doesn't get used. Take it right before the rest or it won't be strong enough to give a full effect considering how much metaphysical punch will be needed. It's probably a lot to think about but you have a week."
Conflicted, Justice added, "You're asking a lot of faith and trust from us."
Orison just shrugged. "My conscience is satisfied that I've done what I need to do to be square with you and then some for all you've done for me. If you need some validation, ask Dr. Odd. He'd verify that you could snort a line of anthrax before taking the rest of that and have little worse than a sore nose, irritated lungs and a resistance to bacterial diseases to show for it. That said, don't be adding anything to the mix. Results would only get more unpredictable."
Feeling like he spent enough attention on an issue that made him uncomfortable no matter how open minded and 'woke' he tried to be about it, Orison excused himself and left Justice with his thoughts. In an effort to shake off some mental exhaustion, he laid out a lounge chair on the clothing optional beach after finding that it was mostly empty. He didn't remain alone for long.
"I've never really gotten a good grip on how places like this work. Is it weirder to approach and set up shop near someone you kind of know and try to be social or to observe the maximum possible amount of personal space rules that guys follow in public bathrooms," Roy said, looking awkward with two arms fully loaded with stuff.
Orison replied, "For me, right now? It depends on whether what's in that cooler is actually cold and your willingness to share it if it is. I'm feeling supremely lazy at the moment."
Relieved, Roy set up the lounge chair and spread his junk around it. "All the cheap beer a handful of people could want for the couple of hours it'll be cold. Ran late trying to come armed and ready to make some new friends but only found a passed out old one and a bunch of kids with intake personnel babysitters... Oh well. It's a day pass and I don't have work tonight on this rotation."
Orison weakly chuckled and said, "If you want some real excitement at the cost of jangled nerves, I could get you past the doorman by the entrance to the Islands of Truth. There's a good deal going on EO Pan that's probably going to keep it closed off to the public til tomorrow from what I caught glimpses of."
The man shuddered and said, "I get enough up close time with Triumvirate subordinates during work. I think I'd rather go to the Island of Brutal Truth for a weekend and that expensive little vacation put a guy I know in therapy for a couple of months. His own damn fault. He crossed the territory line of it's permanent, live-in staff on a dare and got too authentic an experience.
"Now, it'd be great if you could drop me off on Naked Truth and they let me stay after the public seal lifted. I probably wouldn't be able to hang for long but I'd give it my best try... Two more years of graveyard and I get to go to days. I can't believe Turner signed for another two. The little retirement kicker doesn't seem worth it at all."
The young mage laid back and played passive listener, soaking up nuggets of information between the woes of a planar response team member. He was a bit shocked to find out that Roy was only twenty-four. He looked slightly older than Turner and that man was twenty-eight but looked a little prematurely aged himself. There were probably some heavy costs to some of the equipment that Roy used for his work.
Feeling a little sympathy and a touch of gratitude for some of the pearls of wisdom Roy threw his way, Orison said, "Do you still have Sunday off next week?"
The equipment guy said, "I'm on call but pretty low on the list."
The young mage offered, "Saturday night I'm going to be having a welcoming party for the guy I redeemed. It's not going to be anything big and it's probably going to be a bachelor hell but I'm shelling out for good eats and drinks. If you just want to swing by for the main event but have other stuff you'd like to do before hand, best time would be a few minutes before midnight."
Roy thought it over and said, "Why not. I'll swing by this retired cockroach's place, exchange a little stress relief and then head to your place."
"Sounds like you have a plan... What's a retired cockroach?" the young mage said with a confused smile.
Suddenly looking a little ashamed of himself, Roy said, "A rude label that good people don't like to hear."
A deep but conversely youthful voice said, "A Rowdy chaser that caught more than one with the baby trap. They live off of child support or survivor's benefits and upgrade from a cockroach to a retired cockroach when one of their kids grow up and become a Rowdy."
Face red from sun and embarrassment, Roy said, "Garret, you know I wasn't- I mean-"
With a weak smile, Garret cut him off. "My mom knows what she is. Sometimes I think she's proud of it. Honestly, when you look and see that almost a third of the current Rowdies roster is made up of cockroach kids, maybe she should be. It's not like there's a line of so called respectable women looking to start up anything serious with a 'scarecrow'."
Seeing the young mage's puzzled expression, the hulking teen said, "Scarecrows are the rank and file of the Rowdies. Broad spectrum C-class physical augments mostly. You could make a book outta this stuff... Just explaining things so don't get bent about it, Roy... A behind the back term for Roy would be a roman candle and some might call Turner a C-weed."
Roy sighed and said, "I won't but let me say what they mean... It'll sting less. They call me a roman candle because people who do what I do are usually seen as flunkies not quite gifted enough to be core or a Rowdy. No eye catching trait to pull me into support.
"With a decent spread of spiritual or physical augment and a little technical schooling, you can sell your years to the rift sealer or some other life stealing device to keep from the farm, factory or service industry... But I am exactly what I set out to be. And Turner might be a spotty broad spectrum C-class that could have made the Rowdies if he busted his rump but he chose to be planar response team from the get go. He wanted a chance of making something like a real family. He didn't fall to the weeds."
Garret ended up being fairly knowledgeable about things in his own way and the three chatted some before the noon announcement/ event advertisements were given. Even something as simple as sunbathing was capable of pointing out obvious differences between them. Roy had flipped himself about as many times as he could without becoming well-done all over while Garret was only showing the slightest bit of redness under his already slightly tanned skin. As for Orison, a random passerby would think he had just laid out.
Right as Roy really had no choice but to call it quits, the young mage hit him with a healing and asked for the man's coldest in the cooler as compensation. Right as they lapsed into a comfortable silence, it was broken by a bird-like woman's voice speaking broken Common made worse by obvious nervousness. It was the waiting room girl from the dorm's mother.
After she had introduced herself as Maria Espinal, the mother of Celeste, she went on to thank him profusely for signing over his merit purchased house rights and services for her and the three girls she'd be taking care of. Orison explained that it was only an attempt to see them not go to waste. Most of it was non-transferable or refundable for various reasons.
In the face of her tearful gratitude, he almost felt bad how he'd done it mostly out of whim. Mainly to keep Rio from making absurd requests, it was also because Celeste's familiar, Rocky, somewhat started to resemble a spectral copy of the eternium core golems he'd made once. With a lot of the false and foreign memories stripped away, things that inspired nostalgia for his time on Amoril was almost absurdly strong.
It turned out that she had been a chiropractor's assistant and knew her way around a back and its muscles. Despite being a mundane, she had a strong set of hands and Orison found himself surprised as he fought off a momentary desire to slip into half trance, it was so relaxing. Seeing that the young mage enjoyed it so much, Roy weaseled a realigning massage out of her too with a promise to advertise among his friends.
With Roy otherwise engaged, Orison noticed that there was an antsy impatience that began edging into Garret as time slipped by and their little social activity drew to a natural close. Politely parting ways with Roy, he endured another round of thanks from Maria. Seeing that Garret was keen to follow but trying to find some reasonable excuse to, Orison decided to be nice and ask the teen if he knew a good place to get lunch in the water park.
It was obvious that Garret had some kind of difficult request to ask but Orison had questions of his own. He had a lot more to gain by hearing the savvy teen out. And ultimately, a firm 'no' didn't take too much effort if it came down to it.
As Justice lead Orison around the main event areas and towards the lift, he said, "Quite a few of the pheromone producers who have control effects or narcotic-like withdraw symptoms, such as Juniper, suffer from Mosswife Syndrome. Over time, their victims build up a tolerance and start to have adverse reactions to being exposed to it. It has a wide range from registering the pheromones as an extremely unpleasant smell or even typical allergic responses. It makes it very hard for them to have long term relationships. "She's a liaison to the UTF like my sister and I. We were accidentally exposed to her body fluids during a dorm rescue incident. A broad spectrum psionic had completely lost control of their gift... Her and my sister were never really more than friends but I... She said some hurtful things, I think, to cut it off quickly when I started breaking out in hives after we were... close. She's a 'rip the band aid off' type." Orison sighed. "I can appreciate that you have a soft spot for her. Maybe if I was in your shoes, I would too. But what would I have been looking at if I didn't want to play games with her?" Reluctantly, Justice said, "It's hard to tell. Worse case scenario would be a series of twenty shots over a three month period but I doubt it would be even close to that bad." Thoroughly cleaned, Orison called for a break while he reattached the missing part of his finger and healed it. There was a little loss of sensation that would take a couple of days to return and a scar line that would take a bit longer to fade away but it was otherwise functional. Looking pained to say it, Justice asked, "Do you want to file a compensation claim?" Blandly, Orison said, "No, but a notation stating that I'd prefer someone else if for some reason I needed to interact with her in a professional context would be appreciated." With what looked like a subtle sigh of relief, Justice quickly agreed to handle it. While he was logging the request on The Weird, the gray eyed man knocked out showing Orison how to connect as well. A quarter way up the lift, justice said, "I've received an update on your status. Please be calm. It's nothing bad... For safety reasons, you're being moved to Second Heaven." Alert, Orison said, "Be completely honest with me. Have they decided to stash me away like they did in the original plan?" The young mage frowned and said, "Give me your best reasoning behind why." Justice said, "It's the logistics behind monitoring versus privacy needs. Because of certain low but constant risks you pose, you need to be monitored but because of certain secrecy protection acts, that monitoring would almost all be manual. That's a lot of manpower only to keep a general eye on you that will likely be nothing but a waste of time and probably fail the moment it might actually be needed. "You've shown a lot of promise and been a good thing for Avalon. Above all but service to the greater good, we are a meritocracy. To that end, the Triumvirate has deemed this the best solution. Complete personal privacy is provided and threat mostly eliminated. Compromise to respect your needs and comfort will keep the relationship between you and Avalon positive and a space resource that's currently being wasted will be put to use." Rubbing his forehead, Orison said, "Is there any other possible surprises I should be aware of?" Justice nodded. "In the case that the residence you selected is deemed more needful to another inhabitant of Avalon, you'll need to move again. For that reason, if I were you, I'd select the lake house. It's, in my opinion, the nicest and also the least unique. The mountainside home has significantly less usable space and was built to easily convert to multiple aviary styles. The other is mostly built into the terrain floor of the second level and was constructed to cater to an individual with greater strength that has difficulty pulling it back to a human level." Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Orison said, "Sounds like I was given options that weren't really options for the sake of itself." Frowning, Justice said, "When stated that way, it does appear so. Perhaps they meant it with good intentions but the dishonesty of that is quite disturbing." "It shouldn't be. It's basic psychology. Tell someone a specific place is their new home and they feel pressured. Give them a couple of unattractive options that make the original place seem a pleasant offer and the person takes it much more readily, sometimes even thankfully," Orison offered blandly. On the rest of the lift ride, Justice and Orison hashed out the finer details of the move and how it would affect things. Once they reached the top, both of them went to the dressing room and changed back into their original outfits. The young mage ended up waiting for Justice to come out. Upon seeing that he was still there, the gray eyed man said, "That was the end of what would have been Liberty's duty. Since you didn't decide to stay on the island, I doubt you need a chaperon to enjoy the water park... If you insist..." Orison chuckled. "No. I don't need someone to hold my hand and show me around. I just wanted to let you know that I'm planning on having a home welcoming party for the person I redeemed from the irregulars. It'll be next Saturday evening and I want you and your sister there. If I say there will be margaritas, do you understand why?" With a torn expression, Justice said, "If I can't make it, I'll make sure Liberty can." "Why wouldn't you be able to make it?" Orison said. The gray eyed man said, "If I cover for my sister, best case scenario is two in the morning. There is no cap on worst case scenarios." The young mage said, "Get us to a spot with no visuals." A few moments later, in a changing room stall, Orison concentrated inward for a bit and then withdrew his hand from a waterproof tote. "Don't take the note in there as a polite suggestion. Also, both of you need to figure out how to get to my room unseen. That buys you both til six and the cover story Dr. Odd gave me can still be bought. Since you're a worst scenario kind of guy, expect to lose four hours afterwards. I doubt you and your sister have near the amount of tolerance buildup to such things as Aurora and Dr. Odd do." Justice nodded gravely as he clutched the tote with white knuckles. "I ask with purpose. Were you born a biologically functioning woman or a man?" the young mage asked with a steely face. Justice blanched but answered, "True half. If you're asking for medical reasons, it isn't fully genetics related but an expression of supernatural heritage." Orison frowned thoughtfully and said, "Give me the marker you got at the vendor." He stuck his hand back in the tote for a moment and the sound of marker squiggles. Putting the cap back on, he handed the marker to Justice and said. "I assumed your sister is the same. There are two sets of medicine in three different containers. They are marked in a way you can easily figure out what it means. The one marked with both favors your supernatural heritage over your mortal one which means I can't rightly tell you what will happen because I don't know and don't believe I need to know anymore of your personal story... "All I ask is that you return what doesn't get used. Take it right before the rest or it won't be strong enough to give a full effect considering how much metaphysical punch will be needed. It's probably a lot to think about but you have a week." Conflicted, Justice added, "You're asking a lot of faith and trust from us." Orison just shrugged. "My conscience is satisfied that I've done what I need to do to be square with you and then some for all you've done for me. If you need some validation, ask Dr. Odd. He'd verify that you could snort a line of anthrax before taking the rest of that and have little worse than a sore nose, irritated lungs and a resistance to bacterial diseases to show for it. That said, don't be adding anything to the mix. Results would only get more unpredictable." Feeling like he spent enough attention on an issue that made him uncomfortable no matter how open minded and 'woke' he tried to be about it, Orison excused himself and left Justice with his thoughts. In an effort to shake off some mental exhaustion, he laid out a lounge chair on the clothing optional beach after finding that it was mostly empty. He didn't remain alone for long. "I've never really gotten a good grip on how places like this work. Is it weirder to approach and set up shop near someone you kind of know and try to be social or to observe the maximum possible amount of personal space rules that guys follow in public bathrooms," Roy said, looking awkward with two arms fully loaded with stuff. Orison replied, "For me, right now? It depends on whether what's in that cooler is actually cold and your willingness to share it if it is. I'm feeling supremely lazy at the moment." Relieved, Roy set up the lounge chair and spread his junk around it. "All the cheap beer a handful of people could want for the couple of hours it'll be cold. Ran late trying to come armed and ready to make some new friends but only found a passed out old one and a bunch of kids with intake personnel babysitters... Oh well. It's a day pass and I don't have work tonight on this rotation." Orison weakly chuckled and said, "If you want some real excitement at the cost of jangled nerves, I could get you past the doorman by the entrance to the Islands of Truth. There's a good deal going on EO Pan that's probably going to keep it closed off to the public til tomorrow from what I caught glimpses of." The man shuddered and said, "I get enough up close time with Triumvirate subordinates during work. I think I'd rather go to the Island of Brutal Truth for a weekend and that expensive little vacation put a guy I know in therapy for a couple of months. His own damn fault. He crossed the territory line of it's permanent, live-in staff on a dare and got too authentic an experience. "Now, it'd be great if you could drop me off on Naked Truth and they let me stay after the public seal lifted. I probably wouldn't be able to hang for long but I'd give it my best try... Two more years of graveyard and I get to go to days. I can't believe Turner signed for another two. The little retirement kicker doesn't seem worth it at all." The young mage laid back and played passive listener, soaking up nuggets of information between the woes of a planar response team member. He was a bit shocked to find out that Roy was only twenty-four. He looked slightly older than Turner and that man was twenty-eight but looked a little prematurely aged himself. There were probably some heavy costs to some of the equipment that Roy used for his work. Feeling a little sympathy and a touch of gratitude for some of the pearls of wisdom Roy threw his way, Orison said, "Do you still have Sunday off next week?" The equipment guy said, "I'm on call but pretty low on the list." The young mage offered, "Saturday night I'm going to be having a welcoming party for the guy I redeemed. It's not going to be anything big and it's probably going to be a bachelor hell but I'm shelling out for good eats and drinks. If you just want to swing by for the main event but have other stuff you'd like to do before hand, best time would be a few minutes before midnight." Roy thought it over and said, "Why not. I'll swing by this retired cockroach's place, exchange a little stress relief and then head to your place." "Sounds like you have a plan... What's a retired cockroach?" the young mage said with a confused smile. Suddenly looking a little ashamed of himself, Roy said, "A rude label that good people don't like to hear." A deep but conversely youthful voice said, "A Rowdy chaser that caught more than one with the baby trap. They live off of child support or survivor's benefits and upgrade from a cockroach to a retired cockroach when one of their kids grow up and become a Rowdy." Face red from sun and embarrassment, Roy said, "Garret, you know I wasn't- I mean-" With a weak smile, Garret cut him off. "My mom knows what she is. Sometimes I think she's proud of it. Honestly, when you look and see that almost a third of the current Rowdies roster is made up of cockroach kids, maybe she should be. It's not like there's a line of so called respectable women looking to start up anything serious with a 'scarecrow'." Seeing the young mage's puzzled expression, the hulking teen said, "Scarecrows are the rank and file of the Rowdies. Broad spectrum C-class physical augments mostly. You could make a book outta this stuff... Just explaining things so don't get bent about it, Roy... A behind the back term for Roy would be a roman candle and some might call Turner a C-weed." Roy sighed and said, "I won't but let me say what they mean... It'll sting less. They call me a roman candle because people who do what I do are usually seen as flunkies not quite gifted enough to be core or a Rowdy. No eye catching trait to pull me into support. "With a decent spread of spiritual or physical augment and a little technical schooling, you can sell your years to the rift sealer or some other life stealing device to keep from the farm, factory or service industry... But I am exactly what I set out to be. And Turner might be a spotty broad spectrum C-class that could have made the Rowdies if he busted his rump but he chose to be planar response team from the get go. He wanted a chance of making something like a real family. He didn't fall to the weeds." Garret ended up being fairly knowledgeable about things in his own way and the three chatted some before the noon announcement/ event advertisements were given. Even something as simple as sunbathing was capable of pointing out obvious differences between them. Roy had flipped himself about as many times as he could without becoming well-done all over while Garret was only showing the slightest bit of redness under his already slightly tanned skin. As for Orison, a random passerby would think he had just laid out. Right as Roy really had no choice but to call it quits, the young mage hit him with a healing and asked for the man's coldest in the cooler as compensation. Right as they lapsed into a comfortable silence, it was broken by a bird-like woman's voice speaking broken Common made worse by obvious nervousness. It was the waiting room girl from the dorm's mother. After she had introduced herself as Maria Espinal, the mother of Celeste, she went on to thank him profusely for signing over his merit purchased house rights and services for her and the three girls she'd be taking care of. Orison explained that it was only an attempt to see them not go to waste. Most of it was non-transferable or refundable for various reasons. In the face of her tearful gratitude, he almost felt bad how he'd done it mostly out of whim. Mainly to keep Rio from making absurd requests, it was also because Celeste's familiar, Rocky, somewhat started to resemble a spectral copy of the eternium core golems he'd made once. With a lot of the false and foreign memories stripped away, things that inspired nostalgia for his time on Amoril was almost absurdly strong. It turned out that she had been a chiropractor's assistant and knew her way around a back and its muscles. Despite being a mundane, she had a strong set of hands and Orison found himself surprised as he fought off a momentary desire to slip into half trance, it was so relaxing. Seeing that the young mage enjoyed it so much, Roy weaseled a realigning massage out of her too with a promise to advertise among his friends. With Roy otherwise engaged, Orison noticed that there was an antsy impatience that began edging into Garret as time slipped by and their little social activity drew to a natural close. Politely parting ways with Roy, he endured another round of thanks from Maria. Seeing that Garret was keen to follow but trying to find some reasonable excuse to, Orison decided to be nice and ask the teen if he knew a good place to get lunch in the water park. It was obvious that Garret had some kind of difficult request to ask but Orison had questions of his own. He had a lot more to gain by hearing the savvy teen out. And ultimately, a firm 'no' didn't take too much effort if it came down to it.
