Amelia Eva Steinbeck 📚 Teacher 📚 Witch 📚 Available for pop culture consultation regarding the arts, literature, and other foreign mediums of expression.
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NAME: Amelia Eva Steinbeck BIRTHDAY: February 28th FAV CAKE FLAVOR: Mixed berries, whipped cream, and lemon curd
WHAT THEY WANT MOST FOR THEIR BIRTHDAY: For her AP Lit. class to pass their test w/ a 3 or higher.
[The distraction is well-timed; the swam of butterflies keeps their foe unfocused as it can't seem to decide where to swing, raising a hand for another swat that does little more than pass through the swarm itself. With no time to waste, Gale lands himself on a ledge above the door they'd entered through, focusing his attention on the ground beneath the skeletal giant and raising a hand with spread, clawed fingers, palm facing the ceiling.
That movement seems to draw on the shadows themselves, as though pulling them up from the floor and forcing them to manifest into something more substantial; a large patch of floor beneath their foe looks as though it's covered in pitch until that same substance begins to form long, thick tendrils, black tentacles that reach upward and snake their way around the skeleton's ankles and tarsals, grasping at it. Confident that this will impede its movement, Gale is quick to follow up with a second spell. Fireball was a favorite among wizards for good reason, and the orb of flame he throws forward grows larger as it approaches its target— though even as it expands, the spell is sculpted to strike nothing but the skeleton itself, leaving Amelia's swarm of emerald butterflies untouched and unsinged, even as she'll be able to feel the heat of the flames.]
[The skeletal titan is stopped in its tracks by the dark tendrils summoned by Gale and cannot react fast enough to the Fireball that he casts. The flames engulf and lock the heart beating within and the skeleton flails at the overwhelming stimulations and attacks.
Amelia, still in the form of the butterfly swarm, flies higher and higher to avoid the flailing skeleton. They glow even brighter, akin to an emerald flame before their formation changes into a giant lance aimed at their enemy.
The witch isn't someone who casts magic. In this moment, she is magic in its purest form.
The lance launches itself right through the skull and between the eyes. The skull cracks and splits in half at the sheer force. It sways back and forth before tumbling backward and fortunately away from Gale's direction.
Amelia shapeshifts again, this time as her true self. Green magic gives way to red hair and she floats gently down to the stone floor as the giant falls.]
[It is nothing short of breathtaking to watch her work her magic, even in an act of violence; Amelia is magic made manifest in a way he has never seen before now. She strikes the final blow, their combined efforts having brought their foe to its knees— or they would have, if it still had any. As Amelia returns to her true form, Gale pushes off from the ledge and proceeds to descend to the floor as well, some distance between them still as he touches down with one foot and then the other.]
I quite agree! Masterfully handled— I wonder if we'll be rewarded for our efforts?
[They may have awakened the creature of their own accord, but every good dungeon has a bit of loot in it, in his experience, even if it's just a handful of coin. Adventurers still have to eat!]
That last spell of yours— marvelous. I've not seen shapeshifting of its like before now.
[—And thus the edge of her foot hits the angle of a lumpy stone just right, enough to make her stumble and then fall forward. There's a crack— no worries, it's just her glasses which ironically help cushion her forehead hitting the floor.
She may, or may not have said a vulgar swear word, muffled by the ground.]
[He lunges forward with a hand outstretched as she trips and begins to pitch forward, but it all happens so quickly that he doesn't have a prayer of making it in time. He settles for dropping to one knee beside her once he closes the distance, his stomach having clenched at the sound of that crack, though the fact that there's no blood is... promising, he supposes.
Everything they've been through since setting foot on this floor, and this is what threatens to do the witch in? That hardly seems fair.]
Are you alright? Here, allow me—
[He takes one of her hands and reaches for her shoulder, intent on helping her up.]
[This is embarrassing... Worse than the Pocky Incident where she also felt like a fool. This is her feeling like a fool x10000. Amelia grunts as Gale reaches for her shoulder and she pushes herself up with both hands.]
I'm okay. Could be worse. Let me just—
[She shifts her feet beneath her or tries to. A sting of pain shoots to her right ankle when weight is put onto it and she stops, groaning.]
[He winces when he sees the pain in her gaze, hears it in her voice, and immediately shakes his head.]
I wouldn't advise trying that again. I don't have the materials on me, but if I can get you back to my workroom, I ought to be able to fix that right up for you.
[He presses his lips together, reaching to lay his index and middle fingers against her ankle and pressing ever-so-gently, hoping to test for a break.]
Can you move it at all? Without putting weight on it, mind you. [She doesn't need to be told, he knows, but he can't help himself.] Regardless, getting you out of here will be a simple enough matter.
Not broken is something, at least. A sprain can be nasty business in its own right, but healing is a much less complicated matter.
[Getting out of here is their priority now; whatever rummaging around they might have wanted to do after taking down their foe will have to wait— they can, he supposes, always come back, but curious as he'd been about what they might find here, her well-being ranks well above it.
Still on one knee, he shifts his angle and puts an arm around her, just beneath her shoulderblades, his brow furrowed.]
Here, if I may— put your arms around my neck. I can't possibly allow you to try to walk on that.
[She's a stubborn sort, but he hopes she won't argue with him on this point.]
That seems fair enough— one good turn deserves another, and you were a great aid to me. I'm hardly going to leave you stranded here after all that.
[Really, there are no circumstances under which he would, but knowing Amelia likely prefers to think of it as a trade, he'll leave it at that. Once she concedes, his arm around her shoulders closes a bit more securely before he hooks the other beneath her knees, pushing off the floor with one foot and giving a soft grunt as he draws up to his full height— she's not terribly heavy, but wizards aren't particularly known for their ability to carry things.
Cautious, he shifts her so that he can support her against his chest, scanning their immediate surroundings to ensure nothing has been left behind before he starts towards the exit.]
A good thing that we cleared these hallways on our way down here— let's hope for a clear shot back, shall we?
I could have just put some ice on it and call it a day.
[She's grumbling, but she isn't letting go of Gale. That has to count for something.
... When was the last time anyone carried her if at all? Amelia can't say it's happened before and even if Gale struggles somewhat, his hold on her is secure and it's comforting. Somehow. For some reason.
[He hears that muttering about ice, although when she continues and covers her face, he can't help but bite back a smile when he spares her a brief glance downwards.]
If necessary, I've no doubt you can, but I think you've done quite enough for one day, don't you?
[His stride evens out significantly once they've started in earnest, and the hallways are indeed clear as he heads back towards the exit with her in tow, only occasionally having to shift to ensure his hold on her remains secure.]
Besides, sometimes sprains need a great deal more than ice. I have just the thing for it in my workroom.
No, no, I don't imagine it will. You're not exactly the damsel in distress sort— we'll consider this an anomaly, shall we?
[He can't imagine he'll have many opportunities to do something like this in the future, though it would be lying to say he wasn't enjoying the warm weight of her against his chest as they go— despite the circumstances.]
Regardless, you're quite welcome.
[The exit comes up quite quickly, their trip expedited by the fact that they've already fought everything they'd come across, and it isn't long before they're in the elevator and back on their way to their home floor.
After a few moments of silence, he glances down at her with a faint half-smile, hopeful.]
I hope this doesn't mark the end of our explorations together, despite how it ended. We did quite well for ourselves.
[Why does he look so hopeful...? Well. She knows why but she isn't at that point of addressing it directly yet. There's no certainty in being able to answer what goes unsaid, there is no guarantee, and it would be better to let it die on the vine so neither of them would have to go through the trouble.
... And yet.]
That's rather presumptuous of you. I wouldn't end things over a sprained ankle.
I certainly wouldn't think so, but I thought it best not to assume. I suppose I could be seen as presumptuous either way, hm?
[He chuckles as his smile hitches wider, and shakes his head as the elevator lets them out on the seventh floor, its vaguely haunted ambience quite welcoming to him at this point.]
Well, once I have you set to rights, perhaps we can plan our next outing.
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recluserose) wrote2023-10-14 07:21 pm
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hotelcaelum
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That movement seems to draw on the shadows themselves, as though pulling them up from the floor and forcing them to manifest into something more substantial; a large patch of floor beneath their foe looks as though it's covered in pitch until that same substance begins to form long, thick tendrils, black tentacles that reach upward and snake their way around the skeleton's ankles and tarsals, grasping at it. Confident that this will impede its movement, Gale is quick to follow up with a second spell. Fireball was a favorite among wizards for good reason, and the orb of flame he throws forward grows larger as it approaches its target— though even as it expands, the spell is sculpted to strike nothing but the skeleton itself, leaving Amelia's swarm of emerald butterflies untouched and unsinged, even as she'll be able to feel the heat of the flames.]
no subject
Amelia, still in the form of the butterfly swarm, flies higher and higher to avoid the flailing skeleton. They glow even brighter, akin to an emerald flame before their formation changes into a giant lance aimed at their enemy.
The witch isn't someone who casts magic. In this moment, she is magic in its purest form.
The lance launches itself right through the skull and between the eyes. The skull cracks and splits in half at the sheer force. It sways back and forth before tumbling backward and fortunately away from Gale's direction.
Amelia shapeshifts again, this time as her true self. Green magic gives way to red hair and she floats gently down to the stone floor as the giant falls.]
Gale! I think that's a job well done!
no subject
I quite agree! Masterfully handled— I wonder if we'll be rewarded for our efforts?
[They may have awakened the creature of their own accord, but every good dungeon has a bit of loot in it, in his experience, even if it's just a handful of coin. Adventurers still have to eat!]
That last spell of yours— marvelous. I've not seen shapeshifting of its like before now.
1/2
Thank you. It's a challenge to shapeshift into a different form as it is, much less multiple forms or into a less corporeal weapon.
Anyways, are you alright? It looks like we're both relatively unscathed but just to make sure—
[She might be walking too fast without taking the terrain around them into the account, such as the very bumpy stone floor—]
no subject
She may, or may not have said a vulgar swear word, muffled by the ground.]
OW!!
[as the kids say, fuckin owned]
no subject
[He lunges forward with a hand outstretched as she trips and begins to pitch forward, but it all happens so quickly that he doesn't have a prayer of making it in time. He settles for dropping to one knee beside her once he closes the distance, his stomach having clenched at the sound of that crack, though the fact that there's no blood is... promising, he supposes.
Everything they've been through since setting foot on this floor, and this is what threatens to do the witch in? That hardly seems fair.]
Are you alright? Here, allow me—
[He takes one of her hands and reaches for her shoulder, intent on helping her up.]
no subject
I'm okay. Could be worse. Let me just—
[She shifts her feet beneath her or tries to. A sting of pain shoots to her right ankle when weight is put onto it and she stops, groaning.]
Really? Really? My ankle?!
no subject
I wouldn't advise trying that again. I don't have the materials on me, but if I can get you back to my workroom, I ought to be able to fix that right up for you.
[He presses his lips together, reaching to lay his index and middle fingers against her ankle and pressing ever-so-gently, hoping to test for a break.]
Can you move it at all? Without putting weight on it, mind you. [She doesn't need to be told, he knows, but he can't help himself.] Regardless, getting you out of here will be a simple enough matter.
no subject
Just sprained. Nothing a little bit of ice can't fix but I'd rather we leave first.
[Amelia sits up frowning at such a common injury she's inflicted on herself.]
no subject
[Getting out of here is their priority now; whatever rummaging around they might have wanted to do after taking down their foe will have to wait— they can, he supposes, always come back, but curious as he'd been about what they might find here, her well-being ranks well above it.
Still on one knee, he shifts his angle and puts an arm around her, just beneath her shoulderblades, his brow furrowed.]
Here, if I may— put your arms around my neck. I can't possibly allow you to try to walk on that.
[She's a stubborn sort, but he hopes she won't argue with him on this point.]
no subject
She looks like she almost, almost is going to argue about it, what with her aversion to being touched unnecessarily.
... But then she reluctantly wraps her arms around his neck and replies with a graceless grunt.]
I'll consider this something you're doing in return for your ribs.
no subject
[Really, there are no circumstances under which he would, but knowing Amelia likely prefers to think of it as a trade, he'll leave it at that. Once she concedes, his arm around her shoulders closes a bit more securely before he hooks the other beneath her knees, pushing off the floor with one foot and giving a soft grunt as he draws up to his full height— she's not terribly heavy, but wizards aren't particularly known for their ability to carry things.
Cautious, he shifts her so that he can support her against his chest, scanning their immediate surroundings to ensure nothing has been left behind before he starts towards the exit.]
A good thing that we cleared these hallways on our way down here— let's hope for a clear shot back, shall we?
no subject
[She's grumbling, but she isn't letting go of Gale. That has to count for something.
... When was the last time anyone carried her if at all? Amelia can't say it's happened before and even if Gale struggles somewhat, his hold on her is secure and it's comforting. Somehow. For some reason.
Her hand moves to cover her face with her hair.]
I can still cast from here if you need it.
[Mumble mumble.]
no subject
[He hears that muttering about ice, although when she continues and covers her face, he can't help but bite back a smile when he spares her a brief glance downwards.]
If necessary, I've no doubt you can, but I think you've done quite enough for one day, don't you?
[His stride evens out significantly once they've started in earnest, and the hallways are indeed clear as he heads back towards the exit with her in tow, only occasionally having to shift to ensure his hold on her remains secure.]
Besides, sometimes sprains need a great deal more than ice. I have just the thing for it in my workroom.
no subject
Well, I hope this doesn't become a habit.
[
is it a foreshadowing if it's already happened 💦]... But thank you. Preemptively.
[yeah]
no subject
[He can't imagine he'll have many opportunities to do something like this in the future, though it would be lying to say he wasn't enjoying the warm weight of her against his chest as they go— despite the circumstances.]
Regardless, you're quite welcome.
[The exit comes up quite quickly, their trip expedited by the fact that they've already fought everything they'd come across, and it isn't long before they're in the elevator and back on their way to their home floor.
After a few moments of silence, he glances down at her with a faint half-smile, hopeful.]
I hope this doesn't mark the end of our explorations together, despite how it ended. We did quite well for ourselves.
no subject
... And yet.]
That's rather presumptuous of you. I wouldn't end things over a sprained ankle.
no subject
[He chuckles as his smile hitches wider, and shakes his head as the elevator lets them out on the seventh floor, its vaguely haunted ambience quite welcoming to him at this point.]
Well, once I have you set to rights, perhaps we can plan our next outing.
[How's that for presumptuous?]