>>3550013
Useful shit:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/FrostyZippo
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Paranormal%20Agent%20Quest
First thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2907129/

>>3550013
>Wait, what about the old coot who runs this circus. Des mentioned that he knows her from way back, surely he’d have ideas.

>>3550013
>Wait, what about the old coot who runs this circus. Des mentioned that he knows her from way back, surely he’d have ideas.

>>3550013
>...fine. Bring her down. I can’t promise any real results, but I’ll try.

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>>3550013
“Hold on,” you say, bringing up a hand, “Hold on. Have you tried going to see the old man? She’s mentioned to you that they know each other from way back, yeah?”

The black kid nods, though the scrunching up of his face in puzzlement makes his wonderment at where you’re going with this all too obvious.

“So wouldn’t that potentially mean that he’d know better about how to go around cheering her up?”

JJ’s response is a flat stare, which he keeps levelled at you even as he scribbles down his own reply. When he raises the notepad to face you once again, it reads:

‘You really think that GRIM’ you note that he’s underlined the name several times, ‘is the cheer-up kind of person?’

That’s… actually a fair point.

>Fine. You win, kid.
>I don’t know, JJ, I still think you’d be better off bringing someone else in.

>>3550635
>Fine. You win, kid.

>>3550635
>Fine. You win, kid.

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>>3550635
You breathe a sigh, racking your brain for anyone else. No one springs to mind, at least no one who might be what the lady needs.

“All right, kid,” you say, giving up, “You win. I’m not going to make any promises, but I will try.”

The grin that splits his face almost makes you feel a little better about this whole thing, and honestly, it does feel kind of good a little knowing that you’ll be helping someone out instead of trying to swindle them out of their hard-earned cash or woo them into a hotel bed. Helps extra that it happens to be a lady like Des; you’d have probably felt much less sanguine about the deal if it had been, say, Zafi he’d been coming to you about. Not that you can imagine the smug Frenchwoman giving anyone so much as an indication that she’s feeling down in the dumps.

JJ rushes off out the door to find his… hm, now that you think on it you still aren’t entirely sure what she is. Carer? Foster mother? Sister? Guardian? Guardian seems most appropriate, so you guess you’ll stick with that.

“Awful generous of you, boss,” Arnold notes as the kid exits the ward to begin his search.

You shrug.

“Gotta ask, are you pla--”

“No,” you head him off, knowing what he’s going to start getting at.

“You sure?”

>I don’t know, maybe? She seems like a great gal and all...
>Honestly, I’m probably just extremely flattered the kid came to ME of all people for help.
>Maybe I just like knowing that there’s someone so absurdly sunny out there she brightens up people’s lives just by being herself.

>>3551661
>Maybe I just like knowing that there’s someone so absurdly sunny out there she brightens up people’s lives just by being herself.

>>3551661
>Maybe I just like knowing that there’s someone so absurdly sunny out there she brightens up people’s lives just by being herself.

>>3551661
>Honestly, I’m probably just extremely flattered the kid came to ME of all people for help.

>>3551661
“Is it so difficult to think that maybe I just like knowing someone like her exists?” you answer after a brief moment’s deliberation, “Someone who is just so absurdly sunny that she brightens up the room just by being her usual cheery self?”

Arnold thinks for a moment before conceding with a grunt and a faint inclination of his head, “Fair ‘nuff, I s’pose. Anyways I’d probably best head out meself. Got a pool table with my name on it and--if luck smiles--a bit’o green fer me efforts.”

“What, you’re not going to stick around?”

He shakes his head, “I ain’t got nuffin’ up my sleeve that might ‘elp you ‘ere. Now if she were a young’in, or really off ‘er face, that’d be a different stick. Learnt plenty from me squirt sisters about ‘ow t’keep them ‘appy back in the day. Lady like ‘er, though? I don’t think she’d take so much to it.”

He glances towards the entrance to the ward, “Also, uh, don’t trust meself not t’make me look like an arse. It’s the red ‘air, y’know?”

You nod, recalling his earlier confession about his particular attraction to the shade, “Something along the lines of ‘turning your legs to jelly?’”

He nods, scratching at his cheek with a finger, “Anyways, I’ll be away. You get well, boss. Maybe I’ll see yer about the bar once you’re up an’ about?”

You shrug, “Sure,” you say, unable to think of a reason not to.

“Beauty. Take care, then. Good luck with the Southern bird,” he waves a thick arm as he takes his leave, lumbering out of the ward and out of view in short order.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say after him before pondering on just how you’ll even begin to tackle the imminent problem. No sooner has he left when you hear footsteps approaching, one set distinctively lighter than the other. You also hear Des’ distinctive cultured Southern drawl, wondering where on earth JJ is leading her and what he looks so determined about…

That was quick. Quicker than you’d bargained for. Either she happened to be close by or JJ has the nose of a bloodhound.

>Sometimes, subtlety is overrated. Just ask her what’s eating her up when she gets in, maybe she’d respond better to that than anything else?
>JJ says she’s been like this for a few days now, which isn’t going to be good for her mood. Maybe try teasing out whatever might be bothering her with some light conversation?

>>3552745
>JJ says she’s been like this for a few days now, which isn’t going to be good for her mood. Maybe try teasing out whatever might be bothering her with some light conversation?

>>3552745
>Sometimes, subtlety is overrated. Just ask her what’s eating her up when she gets in, maybe she’d respond better to that than anything else?

>>3552745
>Sometimes, subtlety is overrated. Just ask her what’s eating her up when she gets in, maybe she’d respond better to that than anything else?

>>3552745
>Sometimes, subtlety is overrated. Just ask her what’s eating her up when she gets in, maybe she’d respond better to that than anything else

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>>3552745
With not much time at all before the pair arrives, your thoughts on how to go about the issue dumped on your lap are quick and fast. You feel pretty sure you could maybe tease the answers from Des’ own mouth with some light conversation, though there are some people who are able to cotton onto such schemes. You don’t know if she’d be one such individual, but considering how little you know of her so far, taking the risk could backfire and while she doesn’t seem like the type to get angry about it, it surely wouldn’t do what JJ wants of you--which is improving her mood.

On the other hand, you could just go for the direct approach. She seems like a relatively straightforward young woman and you could imagine that maybe something of her might appreciate an equally straightforward question as opposed to dancing and skirting around the issue--if one even exists. It could just be her time of the month, for all you know.

You settle on the latter option just as the woman in question is dragged in by her young ward, an expression of bemused curiosity plastered to her face, “JJ, what in tarnation is with you all of a sudden? And why are we h--” she glances down the length of the ward, spotting you, “Oh, hi!” she chirps. The smile that replaces her confusion is bright enough to power a small house and entirely false. It also fails spectacularly to reach those bright blue eyes of hers. No, JJ’s right; there’s a sadness there, rooted deep like a malignant weed.

“Good afternoon,” you return the greeting.

“I don’t suppose you know what’s got little JJ all riled up at all?” she asks, “He just suddenly grabbed me and started pulling and tugging and he won’t slow down and tell me what all this is about.”

“Sure I can,” you inform.

“Really?” she blinks in surprise, quite clearly not expecting you to know. A fair assumption, you suppose, considering your aforementioned lack of time spent here.

Nodding, you open your mouth to speak...

>The kid’s worried about you.
>How are you feeling?
>You’re not doing too great, are you?

>>3553491
>You’re not doing too great, are you?

>>3553491
>You’re not doing too great, are you?
Keep it up.

>>3553491
>You’re not doing too great, are you?

Just a heads up that there's not going to be an update tomorrow morning as I've got a job on until the evening. The evening/night post will be up as usual, though.

>>3553491
“You’re not doing too great, are you?” you say, deciding to get straight to the point.

Des has a few moments of blank-faced confusion before tilting her head at a slight angle in puzzlement, “I’m sorry, what?”

You sit yourself up in your cot and fix her with a penetrating stare, “Des, when JJ came to me about this, I wasn’t too sure about this whole thing but, looking at you now, there’s no doubt in my mind at all that he’s right.”

“I’m sorry, JJ did--?” she shakes her head, thoroughly perplexed before glancing down at her young ward, “Sweetie, what did you tell the poor ma--”

She stops as she takes in JJ’s expression. He looks up at her with what is possibly the purest concern you’ve ever seen on another person, eyes wide and alight with worry, the corner of his lips ever so subtly quivering. He knows sure as anything that there’s something wrong and he wants to help fix it. The kid cares. Honestly, truly cares. It’s one thing seeing it on Des’ end--her roping you into finding the boy when he was hanging about with R&D springs to mind, but seeing it reciprocated is quite something else. It’s… hell, there’s no other way to say it, it’s touching.

Her expression falters and she returns her attention to you, her bright smile slowly but surely morphing into something much less suited to a girl like Desdemona Fox.

“Yeah,” she says, slowly, “I probably should’ve figured you’d take notice, little guy,” she says, giving JJ’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. She sighs, heavy, leaden, and takes the seat Arnold occupied scant minutes beforehand.

“What’s going on?” you ask, injecting a softer note into your question to let her know that this isn’t an interrogation.

“It’s...” she sighs, “It honestly ain’t nothing, it’s just...” another sigh, “Four years ago, my gramgram passed from this life.”

“Is that all it is?”

“Don’t you say that like it don’t mean nothing!” she snaps, and then blanches, “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get all crabby.”

“No, no,” you console with a placating gesture, “I’m sorry. That was pretty rude of me. I just--you know what, carry on.”

She does, after a gentle nudge from JJ, who sits beside her, hands fidgeting in his lap, “My grandmomma and I were… pretty close. Every time my folks were out, and Grim came over to speak to my grandpappy, she’d...” she stops, chuckling bashfully, “I’m sorry, y’all probably don’t want to hear boring old stories about someone you never met before.”

>No, carry on. I’d be happy to listen.
>She meant a lot to you, huh?

>>3554613
>No, carry on. I’d be happy to listen.

>>3554613
>No, carry on. I’d be happy to listen.
It's better to let her get everything off her chest.

>>3554613
>No, carry on. I’d be happy to listen.
[Dr. Phil Intensifies]

>>3554613
>No, carry on. I’d be happy to listen.

>>3554613
“No, go on,” you encourage, JJ nodding along at Des’ side, “I think I’d like to hear about her.”

A tiny little smile graces her lips and she nods, “All right,” she says, “Her name was Ida, not that I ever called her that. She was always just gramgram to me, and I was her little angel,” she stares down, seeing nothing at all, lost in a haze of memory before a careful prod from the kid at her side brings her back to the present.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “I kind of wandered off for a moment there. Anyway, I spent a lot of time with her when I was home. Probably more than I did with my parents, if I’m being honest. When Grim told me that I was a telepath, and that it was such a rare, special kind of magic, my folks just kind of stood there looking like they were about to go out catching flies,” she chuckles at the memory and shakes her head, “Not my gramgram. She started clapping, and then she picked me up and spun me about and told me…” Des reddens again, and she clears her throat, “Ahem, well, she told me that she always knew I’d be capable of great things and how she’d be there every step of the way...”

“She helped teach you, didn’t she?” you probe.

“She surely did,” the redhead nods, “My pap never showed any sign of ability at all, and while his wife--my momma--knew some minor witchcraft, it weren’t nothing real outstanding or so she said. That I had the gift, and such a big one...” she grins at what you’ve no doubt is a very happy memory for her, “She always wanted a pupil. Someone to continue the family practice,” she laughs, “Course, my being a telepath and all kind of put paid to that idea, but that didn’t mean she weren’t proud, and she kept with me through as much as she could.”

“What was the ‘family practice’, if you don’t mind me asking?” you inquire.

She shrugs, “Charms. Not like the spell, but little idols that are supposed to improve your karma or luck. Gramgram said her own grandmomma could make some charms that could keep a man alive even when he’d been run through by an Indian.”

“Very impressive,” you remark, JJ nodding in wide-eyed agreement. Something like that would have to be pretty damn potent magic.

“Gramgram didn’t have the same talent for it, or so she said,” Des continues, “But she kept at it anyways, and I like to think she was pretty good at it,” she says, her modest chest swelling with pride. You’ve got nothing to go on with regard to charms in that kind of vein, so you nod along and gesture for her to carry on.

“So, she taught me--inasmuch as she could--anyway, only so much you can really do to get the point across when… well, you know. It was hard at first, but I got better and better, and one night when Grim was over and my parents were having a talk in the study, she took me outside and sat me down on her lap on the veranda and told me to--”

(Cont.)

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>>3556613
***
“Look up.”

Your name is Desdemona Meritious Fox. Your friends call you the Princess of Plaquemine, and according to everyone in your family, you’re one of the most powerful witches in the world. Honestly, some small part of you wonders how being able to tell if a grown up is telling a dirty fib or not makes you so powerful, but heck, you aren’t going to argue with your gramgram, or old man Grim.

Right now, your gramgram has hoisted you onto her lap on the padded bench you’ve got on the veranda outside. It’s night time, and truthfully, you’re pretty tired. You finished all your practice for today, so you really aren’t sure why she insisted on taking you outside into the brisk night air. Maybe she’s forgotten how much you don’t like the cold again? It wouldn’t be the first time. Out in the distance is nothing but the dark woodland and the unrelenting noise that only comes from the chirp and croak of birds and bugs and frogs, close but unseen in the thick grass and on the branches of tall trees that flank the path to your home. You wish you could catch one of the critters; maybe keep it as a pet.

“Why?”

“Hon, have I ever led you astray?”

You make a show of thinking about it, she chuckles and runs her fingers over your belly, causing you to squeal in both surprise and delight at the tickling sensation, “Now, I don’t remember allowing my son to raise such a naughty gal,” she says, teasing, “You answer me straight, angel.”

“No, gramgram,” you mumble, slouching comfortably into her embrace. She feels thin. Thinner than normal, you think. She chuckles again, though and wraps her arms around you, preventing you from sliding off her lap completely.

“Sug, you’re coming up to ten years old, soon, aren’t you?” she asks, though you know that she knows the answer. Gramgram knows everything.

“Yes,” you answer like a good little girl.

“And I presume you’re looking forward to the big day?”

“Yes,” you repeat, a wide grin splitting your face as your mind races through the list of presents your parents might have got you. Last year you got a white dress with all the frills and Mary was so jealous of you.

“And you know that your grandfather and I like to pitch in too, hm?”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Well, I’m afraid that business on our end has cut short our personal contribution this year.”

“What? Why?” you ask, wanting to yell but feeling too sleepy to bother.

“I just told you, angel,” she chortles, hugging you tight, “I’d go into detail but, I’m afraid it’s all real boring grown-up stuff. So, instead, I decided to take it upon my wearisome self to give you a different kind of present than you’re probably used to.”

“What is it?” you tilt your head, curiosity taking root.

(Cont.)

>>3556618
“Well, dear, all you need to do is do what I asked you to do five minutes ago and… look up.”

Now truly puzzled, you tilt your head back to comply, resting the back of your head on your grandmother’s lap, staring up into the sky, and…

...what you see…

>Woah…
>It’s so bright!
>...what am I looking at?

This won't be a particularly long character interlude. Depending on how this all plays out, it'll last for no longer than another couple updates at most, just an FYI.

>>3556624
>...what am I looking at?

>>3556624
>Woah…

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Finally able to make use of the internet. Provider issues suck and no other way to describe them. On a less related topic I see we have a tie.

1 - What am I looking at?
2 - Woah...

>>3558419
“What am I looking at?” you ask, puzzled.

Gramgram shifts beneath you, but keeps you held close, “Well, dear, why don’t you tell me all that you see?”

You scrunch your face up in confusion. How does this relate to your birthday present, early as it is?

“Well…” you start, ponderous, “I see… some trees. A lot of trees.”

“What else?”

“Uh, the sky?”

“Mhm, and what else?”

“The moon.”

“Anything else?”

You peer upward, growing a little impatient now, “Stars.”

“Sure, angel. But how many can you see?”

“I don’t know, lots.”

“How many do you think there are?”

“Why?”

“Just humour me, sweetheart. How many stars do you think are currently twinkling above our world so high?”

You try for those first ten or so seconds, you really do. But there’s just too many and it’s not much longer before you huff and give up.

“I don’t know. Hundreds and hundreds?”

She offers you a squeeze, pressing her lips against the back of your head, which soothes your growing frustration a little, “Good guess, angel. Truth is, I’m not even sure myself how many stars there are. They say there’s thousands upon thousands upon thousands up there. So many that you could probably spend an entire lifetime counting and still probably not get even halfway through counting.”

“Really? That many?”

“Mhm, you best believe it, hun. And each one of those stars tells a story.”

“Really?” you look up at her, squinting and not really believing a word. Stars can’t talk, so how can they tell stories? Gramgramn’s face, though, is completely serious.

“They surely can, and they told me some of them when I was your age.”

“Like what?” you ask, still sceptical but also quietly curious.

She chuckles, “Well, pick one, and I’ll tell you.”

>The brightest, shiniest star in the sky.
>The little star looking all lonely above the tree canopy.
>A random star in the centre of the group.

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>>3558541
Forgot muh image

>>3558541
>The little star looking all lonely above the tree canopy.

>>3558541
>The little star looking all lonely above the tree canopy.

>>3558541
You um and ah for what feels like forever, until finally, something stands out. A little star, sputtering rather than shining, a fainter thing compared to its thousands of siblings that dot the sky far above.

“What about that one?” you point. Your grandmother lowers her head to follow where you’re pointing to and, after a few seconds’ searching, confirms.

“That one?” she asks, just to be sure.

“Uh huh,” you nod, decisive.

“Well, angel, that little fella right there is Archimedes.”

“Archimedes?”

“Mhm, that’s the name. And his story is, well, not an altogether happy one, at least to start with…”

She launches into a tale of a young child, adrift on the waves of fate, separated from its family and forced to scrape and scavenge to survive. The lonely star, however, finds a place amongst others that it meets and, though adjusting is hard, through bravery and perseverance, it finds a home and the companionship it unknowingly desired. Truthfully, you think your pa’s a better storyteller than your gramgram. Still, you put on a fascinated expression, and ask her if she can tell you another.

As it turns out, she very much can. Four more she picks through--Etrius the noble knight, Otus the well-meaning klutz, Sapheria the haughty performer and Cillian the cunning jester--until, finally, your eyelids become as leaden weights and you can keep them open no longer. You won’t awaken until the next morrow, tucked into bed.

Your elderly relative would continue her storytelling beyond your childhood and well into your adolescence and further still. What started as the humouring of a young girl grew gradually more appreciative as you understood the subtle effort exerted simply thinking up all the varying backgrounds and tales on the fly.

As with all things, however, it couldn’t last.
***
“It wasn’t long after my 20th birthday,” Des says, her voice hushed and soft, her thoughts drifting away even as she relates her tale, “She started to repeat herself more and more often; forgetting things she’d done or said not minutes back. It was...” she takes a deep, shaky breath, “It was hard seeing her like that, after all she’d been though and all she’d done for me.”

You lean back in your bed and ponder. Truthfully you’d know little of what she underwent regarding her grandmother’s deteriorating health. The only family you’d ever known was your father--if your grandparents were still around, he’d never seen fit to mention them. It leaves you feeling more than a little awkward as you sit next to quite possibly the nicest young woman you’ve ever known struggling to think of something to say.

Fortunately, you’re rarely caught flat-footed for very long.

>It sounds like she loved you a lot.
>She sounded like a hell of a gal.

>>3561094
>She sounded like a hell of a gal.
Des already knows gramgram loved her

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Once again, we were delayed. I apologise for that. Two jobs I've had which have started in the morning but late enough that I thought I might be able to sneak in an update, only for my pretty glacial writing pace to foil this plan. Only got two more: tomorrow and Monday, and then the 12th-17th I'll be away.

>>3561094
“She sounded like one hell of a dame,” you say. Des chortles and nods, sniffling. Her eyes are red--she really loved the old gal, didn’t she?

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Yeah, she was. Weren’t no day went past she wasn’t there with me in some way, but…” she releases a shaking breath and bites at her lower lip, “It couldn’t last, could it?”

JJ leans in close and wraps his arms around the young woman, who returns the embrace without looking like she’s wholly aware of it. A silence settles upon the three of you, and once more it falls on you to break it before all descend into melancholy.

“My old man told me once,” you start, “When I asked about my mom that…” you pause, working your jaw around, “That she made him feel more alive than anything else in the world. They were together for only a few years before I was born and, well, I never got to meet her--not… properly, anyhow.”

Des raises her gaze to meet yours. Even JJ looks your way, curiosity piqued by your regalement of a long distant conversation with a man long passed away.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says, her voice low and hushed. JJ nods along, a far away look on his own face that gives you the impression something you’ve said has sparked off memories of his own--perhaps of his own family?

“Don’t worry about it,” you say, waving a hand in dismissal, “I learned a long time ago there’s no point grieving over something I never knew. Maybe my life would have been different with her in it, sure, but she wasn’t. Me moping about it won’t change a thing--anyway,” you take a breath, returning to your tale, “I asked him if he was sad that he only knew her for that short a time, and I remember he… he said: ‘Yeah, son, of course I am. But even the best things don’t last forever,’ and at the end of the day, he was happy beyond words that he had known her--loved her, and that he still had a reminder of her in...” you grin, feeling suddenly bashful, “Well, me.”

“That was awful sweet of him,” the redhead muses, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as some of her good humour returns.

“It was, yeah,” you agree, “And it helped lay a few ghosts to rest that I’d been worrying about at the time. But, I suppose what I’m getting at by telling you all this is--”

“I get it, hun,” Des nods, “Don’t worry. I know how I sound and act, but this gal ain’t no airhead,” she says, pointing to herself with a thumb and--yeah. There it is. There’s the smile. Wide and dazzling and going a whole long way to lift up your own mood.

It really is the best look for her, you decide.

(Cont.)

>>3563226
“Thanks,” she says, sincere as all get out, “For the talk. I might have been a little awkward to talk to if my little man here hadn’t dragged me down here,” she beams at JJ, who grins, sheepish, and scratches at his cheek whilst tugging down on his flat cap in a vain attempt to conceal his face. Typical kids. She could have done a lot worse when picking up a stray, though, you’ll admit. He’s a good kid--cares for her a lot

“Being fair to you, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have had all these folks about you up until recent, huh?” you probe.

“I suppose that’s true,” she admits, “But I’m still grateful.”

A thought springs to mind, entirely unbidden, but one that might perhaps serve to further improve the telepath’s mood. The only snag in this otherwise pretty swell idea--if you do say yourself--is that you’ve not really attempted anything like it before.

>Hell with it--nothing ventured, nothing gained. Ask Des if she wants to see a show.
>Maybe another time--she probably has better things to be doing with herself than keeping a rogue like you company.

>>3563227
>Maybe another time--she probably has better things to be doing with herself than keeping a rogue like you company.

>>3563227
>Hell with it--nothing ventured, nothing gained. Ask Des if she wants to see a show.

>>3563227
>>Hell with it--nothing ventured, nothing gained. Ask Des if she wants to see a show.

>>3563227
>Maybe another time--she probably has better things to be doing with herself than keeping a rogue like you company.

>>3563227
>Hell with it--nothing ventured, nothing gained. Ask Des if she wants to see a show.

>>3563227
Well, nothing ventured…

“Hey, Des?” you ask.

“Yeah?” She turns to face you.

With more effort than either the young lady or her charge will ever readily appreciate, you keep an entirely straight face as you ask them a simple question:

“Want to see a magic trick?”

For a moment, her face is a perfect portrait of bemusement. JJ appears equally puzzled, though he seems to recover slightly quicker than his guardian as you catch a slight nod.

Grinning, you take that as all the permission you need before weaving your spell. Immediately, you’re thankful that your profession is illusioncraft, because if it weren’t, you’d be feeling pretty silly right about now. Creating a ‘field’ of sorts, is a lot different than just trying for separate entities like you achieved in France. And there’s a lot more to consider, especially if you want to get it just right for your audience of two. Adding onto that is that much of what you’re attempting to create, you’re doing so from mostly imagination. Not the worst thing for an illusionist of your skill, but you aren’t going for fantastical or for a sneaky bait and/or switch--no, you want to be as close to the real thing as possible.

The room darkens and fades away, the polished, clean white interior of the infirmary giving way to a lush temperate forest. The ceiling above vanishes, replaced by the wide open sky; a midnight black canvas upon which you start to dot with as many bright, twinkling stars as you feel up to.

>1d100, no strict TN but higher is better

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>3565430

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3565430

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>3565430

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>3565430

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>>3565430
The work is, admittedly, not your best, and that’s disappointing, though not entirely unexpected considering that this was very much a first for you. You tell yourself that you did the best you possibly could under the circumstances and feeling guilty or upset is ridiculous--you have, after all, effectively transported the three of you into the middle of a moonlit copse, and all from the relative comfort of your bed. Even so, you can’t help but wince at the dimness of the stars above, the lack of sound that isn’t the muffled chatter from beyond the confines of the infirmary ward you rest in and even the artificial shadow that simulates the deepest night can’t quite erase the fact that the otherwise picturesque bouquet of trees appears somewhat drained of colour. Without any real basis, you feel quietly certain that your father might well have managed to pull something like this off without much hassle.

However, even the perfectionist within can’t dim the growing satisfaction that even now swells up within you like well-prepared souffle in an oven.

After all...

“Oh, my!”

It’s not as though your intended audience isn’t appreciative of what you’ve wrought. Even if it’s only temporary.

“Oh mercy me,” Des gasps, fanning herself with a hand as she gazes up in wonderment. Even JJ appears suitably impressed, eyes wide and blinking as though expecting the scene to disappear from his sight at any moment.

It will, but hopefully not before the red haired telepath has her moment.

“Oh my gawd! This is amazing!” she squeals in unmitigated delight before throwing her arms around her young ward, “Look, look!” she points up at a random cluster of false stars. You aren’t sure if they even form a correct constellation or not but, hell, you suppose it doesn’t matter as long as she’s enjoying herself.

“Oh, this is just like--!” she clears her throat and leans down, pointing at a different gaggle of distantly shining diamonds in the sky, “Okay, see up there, JJ? That right there is Ursula, the queen of the snow. She once danced the mother of all hail storms into existence when she got sad. That one next to her is her husband, Uriah, the frost dragon. He had a mighty battle with that little fella just over there--” quickly, the excitable young woman is lost to her own little world, born of some pretty sterling, if imperfect, illusioncraft and her own long distant memories. Neither you or the kid at her side can suppress your grins as she dips from one star and its name and story to the next. Inclining his head, JJ catches your eye and gives you a brief but grateful nod. He is more than satisfied at how this all turned out.

For your part, you affect a shrug of nonchalance. Honestly the show has drained a lot of your reserves, and keeping it going is only taking more, though you think you can keep it up for another few minutes at least before exhaustion takes you.

(Cont.)

>>3567479
Take you it does, though and, unfortunately, this particular show can’t go on for much longer. With a word of warning, you bring the curtain down on the act. Barely has the facade faded away when Des throws her arms around you and squeezes, her slender figure pressing tightly against you--not an unpleasant feeling by any stretch.

“Thank you, Adam,” she sighs in contentment, “That went a whole long way toward brightening my day,” she then draws back and plants a kiss on your cheek, a blindingly bright, beaming smile upon her face.

>Any time, Des.
>Hell, I would’ve just laid in bed all day if that kid of yours hadn’t dropped by--he’s the one you should be thanking.
>Thank you kindly, but it was you that gave me the idea.

>>3567484
>>Hell, I would’ve just laid in bed all day if that kid of yours hadn’t dropped by--he’s the one you should be thanking.

>>3567484
>Hell, I would’ve just laid in bed all day if that kid of yours hadn’t dropped by--he’s the one you should be thanking.

>>3567484
>Hell, I would’ve just laid in bed all day if that kid of yours hadn’t dropped by--he’s the one you should be thanking.

>>3567484
>Hell, I would’ve just laid in bed all day if that kid of yours hadn’t dropped by--he’s the one you should be thanking.

>>3567484
>>Hell, I would’ve just laid in bed all day if that kid of yours hadn’t dropped by--he’s the one you should be thanking.

>>3567484
“Hell, I’d have just lazed about here all day if that boy of yours hadn’t swung by,” you nod in his direction, “Ultimately, he’s the one you should be thanking.”

“Awww,” Des coos, rounding on her ward, and the kid has barely an instant to react before she’s practically smothering him in a tight hug, “Well, thank you for going to the nice man, JJ.”

Bashful at the attention he’s getting, the lad attempts to turn away to no true avail. Des has got him locked in place as she gently rocks from side to side. You can’t help but smile at the display. Truly, the lady is a breath of fresh air.

As your old man said, though, even the best things don’t last forever, and Des has other things she needs to be getting on with today.

“Thank you again,” she says, standing up over your bed, a grateful smile splitting her face, “I know I said it already, but really.”

“Think nothing of it. I consider it a public service helping put that smile of yours back on your face.”

“Oh, stop it,” she giggles, and you grin at the way her cheeks take on a faint reddish tinge. JJ cocks an eyebrow up at his guardian before turning his gaze on you and giving you another nod of gratitude before scribbling on his notepad again.

‘I knew I made the right call coming to you,’ the notepad reads.

Wow. That’s… actually… yeah. Now you think you’re blushing.

“Weren’t no thing,” you say, raising a hand to your face and feigning holding off a sneeze to conceal whatever expression you might be making. JJ’s smug grin tells you that he’s not convinced. Des’ devilish smirk tells you that neither is she.

“Come along now, hun,” she says, turning to leave, “I think we’ve bothered Mr Adam here long enough. Bye bye now!” she waves, JJ mirroring the gesture, “We’ll be sure to come visit again before you get out!”

“Yeah. I think I’d like that,” you say, and you mean it, too, “Take care, now.”

“After you, mister!”

And like that, a rather more fun day than you’d imagined draws to a close.

>And that seems like a decent place to end this thread on. I mulled on trying to put more out but, as I've mentioned, I've a job on for a few days starting tomorrow and honestly anything further would only be awkwardly cut short because the thread certainly wouldn't be alive by the time I get back. Thanks again all of you who dropped in to post or just to lurk, I hope you enjoyed and we'll be back up and running, hopefully, on either the Thursday or Friday next week. Pip pip cheerio and all that, and have a nice week folks.

Ah, one last thing. Would you like the SOCIAL ACTIVITY to continue or just timeskip to when our protagonist is back on his feet in roughly over a week's time in-universe?

>>3568936
Thanks for running!

I liked the SOCIAL ACTIVITY, but I want some action already.

>>3568936
I would say maybe let us do some stuff (go to the library, practice, find the others to chat etc.) but give us more time before the next mission. I very much like a 50/50 split between action and socializing and relaxation.

>>3568936
It wouldn't hurt us to have one more Social Activity out of the bed before a proper mission starts.