Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,
Sythyry
sythyry

Orren Make Good Furniture

Actually Orren don't make good furniture, they simply make enthusiastic furniture. The Orren in question is Real-Eel, a very advanced student in Enchantment. Finally I can use my heritage for some mighty purpose! She is a bit impressed with the name 'Glikkonen'. One might almost suspect that she were trying to use me to winkle zir secrets out of zir, but, in fact, she doesn't seem interested in that.

[For more information on Glikkonen, see the World Tree sourcebook. -bb]

She took me fishing. Orren style.

Now, I'm about the right size for it, but I'm not the right shape exactly, and on the whole I prefer to keep my feathers dry. But, Real-Eel had made a charm out of a tooth that got knocked out of her mouth last year, which lets one breathe water as if it were air, and she has a Ruloc Aquador spell called Umbrella of the Living Flame which can keep even a fire dry underwater. With these two things, swimming is just like flying, except that (1) you can't levitate, and (2) the air is very very heavy. Oh, and if you're in the public pond, there are fish all around you. We chased each other around through pondweeds and glass-coral, and caught fat buskies, and had quite the excellent time ... until the Umbrella of the Living Flame gave out, and it felt rather more like Bathtub full of Living Squids. No danger really -- the charm will live as long as I will -- but it was hideous and wet.

Real-Eel dragged me out. That charm lets you breathe water; it's not like the more standard spell that turns water to air. So, of course, my nose was full of water. I didn't think of that when I took the charm off to give back ... so there I was, choking on the pondside, coughing up great gouts of steam at Real-Eel when she was trying to rescue me. I was thoroughly and properly embarrassed.

But -- and I should take pains to remember this! -- there is no excuse like "You saved my life!" for curling up in the arms of an appealing lifesaver. I quite happily spent the next hour or two curled up with my muzzle full of brown fur!

Breath-grilled sardines are not quite as good an excuse. I suppose if I had the right kind of breath-strengthener I could get them crispy and delightful, but if I'm going to breathe for any length of time, it's not much more than a glorified candleflame. Which is to say, if you want to cook a busky, the front end is cool before the back end isn't raw.

(Next time I shall grill one bite at a time for her. If that's not romantic, I don't know what is.)

I do believe I don't hate Orren any more!
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