Private Tales Fireworks and a White Rabbit

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
If they hadn't just narrowly escaped a lifetime of enslavement and now faced the dangers of potential poverty in a dangerously litigious city, perhaps Varys would have had other motives in mind for the night. As Hob snuggled into his side though, his arms snaking around her to hold her close to him, he found that this was all he needed.

Jonathan had mentioned to him before that they'd need to unlock some of his latent potential if they were going to go for The Prism. While so much had happened in the last two days that his time spent worrying about the artifact seemed ages ago, the chance to practice with Hob could be invaluable in bolstering his abilities. They would at least be able to say they made progress as Jon slept. They couldn't enter the town until he woke anyways, as Hob needed to be at her larger state in order to pull the cart.

Tilting his head down, he meets her lips with his and smiles adoringly at the Pooka, his eyes drooping. "You too. You can give me a full lesson tomorrow, if you like."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob woke up in the morning, fairly surprised to see that she was...well, still herself. She looked over at Jon, but he was sleeping deeper. Quieter. The bond felt better. When he woke he’d be ravenous, but she was quieted looking at him. She grinned and mischievously slid on top of Varys, reaching a finger out and stroking down the bridge of his nose. “Wake up, wake up.” She whispered playfully, grinding her rear down on him. “Teacher says you’re late for lessons.”

Hob kissed him, sitting up. She gathered the fur playfully around her hips, bouncing up and down on his lap. Well, what man didn’t like to wake up to the sight of breasts bouncing? “I forget is it the teacher who spanks naughty students, or the other way around?”

Varys
 
Varys rose up from the bedroll, not tired enough to sleep much further than he already had. If anything, he was even more energized now. They were banged up sure, but they had made it out again. All they needed was to get to town and find some extra coin. If there was any place they would be able to pull that off, it was Oban. He reaches down beside him, looking down at Hob as he runs a hand along the side of her face affectionately.

"As much as I enjoy our private time together, I hope Jon wakes up soon. It's not safe to stay out here for too long, we might end up looking suspicious."

Leaning down to press a quick kiss to the pooka's lips, he slides out of the wagon and dresses himself. His usually pristine suit jacket and dress trousers were showing the effects of being thrown around and stretched out from running, and he figured the same would be said of Jon's clothing too. He runs his hands along his garments, dusting them off the best he could. Gods, the past three days had been the most eventful of his entire life, and he still hadn't processed everything that had happened.

He prayed for at least one quiet day.

Tying his wild silver hair back into a neat tail behind his head, he climbs back into the wagon and checks on Jon. He was still sleeping, but his breathing was far less shallow and labored than it had been earlier; He was healing, albeit slowly. Varys needed to protect him. He looks over at his lounging lover.

"I dunno what I would have done if anything had happened to you two..."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob looked over at Jonathan, reaching out to grasp his hand and squeeze it. Jonathan was sleeping much more peacefully, and that was a relief. Hob was sure that if he hadn’t had to use magic to get them away from the Abbey, he would have been awake. He’d been hit twice in the past two days with magic exhaustion. Once was bad enough. Hob fiddled with Jonathan’s hair, pushing it back from his face.

“Poor man, he’ll be shaky for a few days.” Hob told Varys. They were all going to be hungry soon. Jon was going to eat like a starving dog after expending that much energy.

After a few hours Jonathan stirred. The mage greedily sucked down the last of the water, and Hob went to refill the water skin. The river was indeed salt water, but Hob sat down and lifted a hand over the waterskin. White crystals gathered on the rim, which she broke off and tossed over the back of the wagon. When she was done, they had clean water. Jonathan drank two full waterskins before he was satisfied.

Varys
 
While Hob busied herself preparing water, Varys gathered up the last of their food and set a fire up beside the wagon. It was a bit more of an ordeal for Varys, getting a fire started. He hadn't had much of a chance to learn from Jon yet, due to the recent events they'd had to overcome. Still, after several failed attempts, and a stray spark nearly flying into the wagon and killing them all, he managed to get a fire going. He cooked the last of the rice they had saved, as well as some meat scraps that Jon had been avoiding in favor of more juicy pieces. It would be tight, but there would be enough for the three of them to have a small meal. As he kept watch over their food, he saw Hob at his male size again, and figured Jon must have finally woken up.

Sure enough, when he brought the food over to his two friends, Jonathan was guzzling down his second skin full of water. Varys smirked a bit joked, "If you were so thirsty, you should have just opened your mouth while we were in the river." He set one plate of food in front of Jon, and raised the other to Hob. "Here you go, Bun-" He catches himself. "Buddy."

Finally, taking the smallest portion for himself, he sits on the ground with a sigh of relief, what felt like his hundredth in the last 48 hours. "I'm sorry I made you do that, Jon... If it makes you feel any less like shit, it worked. The Abbey's been stuck for the last day, and I'm sure whoever it is you have bad blood with in there is flipping their lid."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob made sure Jonathan drank slowly. He rubbed one hand up and down the Transmuter’s back. You going to be okay? You feel better. Hob said gently, taking the food in front of Jon. He looked at Varys when the elf slipped, and cleared his throat. Varys had been about to say bunny...just like he had the previous night. He pushed away thoughts of being shoved into the blankets, and helped Jon shakily eat the rice.

“Next time kid...fire downwind.” Jon smiled crookedly at Varys. “Less chance of blowback from the sparks.” He looked out over the river at the Abbey, and winced a bit. “Circen isn’t going to be happy with me.”

Like she was before. Her or Persian. Hob stuck out a long, black tongue in the direction of the Abbey. I’ll be dead before I have a pet collar around my neck.

“Don’t speak too fast. If we don’t get some capital and soon, we might find ourselves at Pedeo’s mercy. Persian liked the fire flowers we did at Auction last year...and it gets us close to the Sand Sea.” Jonathan pointed out. “Like it or not...it would be a good jumping off point to find the Prism.”

Hob sniffed and ate a few bites of his food, looking over at Varys. He shifted and sat closer to him, ignoring Jon’s questioning look. “So...you two have made up, I see.” Jon said carefully. “Anything you two want to tell me?”

Hob stood up, shoved the rest of his food onto Varys’ plate, and vanished.

Varys
 
He'd have to remember to check the wind next time it came to him to cook the food. He'd felt like he'd been forgetting a step, and it made sense. He still had a good deal to learn about many things, but he was miles ahead of where he'd been. When he began to feel a bit hopeless, he merely needed to take stock of just how far he'd come.

He takes bites of his own meal, and listens to the two of them talk about The Abbey. As usual, it seems Jon had some history with the looming structure stuck in the soft ground of the riverside that he hadn't made anybody else privy too besides Hob. He didn't know who Circen or Persian were, but his eyes narrowed as Jon floated the idea of bartering with them to get to The Prism. He didn't like the idea of fraternizing with those who'd just tried to enslave them.

Clearing his throat, he interjects. "All due respect, I'd like to request that you leave the matter of how we go for The Prism in my hands. It's my business after all. Besides, we have other things to worry about before we can even begin to think of the Sand Sea."

The tint of suspicion in Jon's voice caused a small bit of panic in Varys; He certainly hadn't expected him to notice anything awry. He sets his plate aside to look at Hob, but he'd already fled. Wonderful work, Hob. Very subtle.

He makes a small attempt to play it naturally, and shrugs his shoulders. "We've been brainstorming ways of solving our money problem. Have you ever been to Dalriada, Jon? We're right outside the walls of the capitol, filled with bored nobles with money burning a pocket in their robes."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Alright. The method of us getting to the Prism is securely in your hands, Varys.” He rubbed at his eyes, and finished off his food. He knew he’d eaten too quickly, but the food was half decent for campfire fare and he was starving. He set aside his bowl, and gave the elf a look. “I haven’t. Which means that Delriada might be a good place for us to be. I just have to take stock of how much raw material we have. We’ve got enough fire flowers for about half a show, and enough of the smaller flowers to sell on the street.”

Jonathan chewed his lip. “I don’t know if I can do a show...I can still feel the ache in my bones. At the same time, I think that was the last of the food.”

Let me and Varys go into the city and sell
The smaller flowers. We’ll promote a larger show, see if we can’t get nobles interested. Hob said, coming out from the front of the wagon.

Jon frowned. “I’m not sure...you up to it?” He asked.

I’m fine, it’s you who needs rest. How about I pull us into Delriada, we use the last of the scratch for a decent hotel, and Varys and I do a few smaller shows on the street? Hob offered. I can help stabilize his magic.

“Varys?” Jon turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

Varys
 
Varys nods in agreeance with Hob's plan. Okay, so Hob was really just repeating what Varys had suggested the night before, but he wasn't about to complain. "As long as you think you don't mind staying in bed for a while. Oban is a wealthy city, but it's also strict." He cast a look to Hob. If Jon fell into a deep enough sleep to cause him to turn back into her true form, Varys would have to do most of the work. "If we piss any of these nobles off, we'll get free room and board in a cell. We'll need to be careful."

He looks over the Wagon, circling it as though checking for any damage, he raises a hand and pats Hob's back as he speaks to Jon. "We don't have anything that could be considered contraband, I don't think. They often do routine checks of vehicles going in and out of the city. We'll put you up in a room, then Hob and I will head towards the center of the city and wow the locals. We should at least be able to scrounge a few days worth of coin, enough to last until you can do what you do best again, Jon."

He smirks, climbing into the wagon and closing up the tailgate. They would be in town in no time at all; Hobs wound was already looking exponentially better. "I should warn you, Jon. Flirting, even playfully, is probably a bad idea here. Women are... a bit unfairly treated in Oban. I wouldn't want to spark something."

Jonathan Burr
 
“So don't piss anyone off, Hob.” Jon chuckled. “Oban isnt a bad town, just not kind to women or troublemakers. We’re neither. Just honest mages trying to earn a living. Try not to ruin my reputation completely.” The mage paused and looked at Hob. Contraband. He swore under his breath and pushed their bedding aside, pulling up one of the wagon’s floorboards. He offered a box to Varys as Hob took up the wagon and started them off.

“I think you ought to take this.” He told him. “This is a mushroom grown in Volta’s lower sea caverns. Dried out and turned into tea, it lowers one’s inhibitions toward magic. It can open up new avenues. Two or three teaspoons over hot water. It’ll taste like dirt but might help you and Hob use your magic more effectively.” He smiled wryly. “Just...maybe a half dose your first time. It can give off powerful hallucinations if you’re not used to it. Hob can guide you.”

Jon settled back and began gathering up a basket of the smaller flowers. They had a large amount of the gaily-wrapped, palm-sized flowers, some of the smaller flat screamers, and a few smaller rockets suitable for home use.

Varys
 
Varys perched his limber form on the front seat and watched curiously as Jonathan tore up a floor board. Interesting... he'd wondered if Jon had any secret hiding places in the wagon for some time now, but he'd thought better of poking around for one. He reaches down and inspects the box, his ears seeming to perk up a bit as he explained it's contents.

"So it's more or less a drug to get me started? I'm not sure I totally like the sound of that, but I'll keep it in mind as an option."

He set the box at his side. He'd be sure to hide it from the checkpoint they would be coming up on once they entered town. He turns to look at Hob, who seemed to be doing much better. He was glad; He'd worried Varys last night with that wound, but it seemed to be healing quite nicely.

The trip was thankfully uneventful; Varys spent the time tightening the strings on his makeshift instrument, and he'd finished just as they passed through the main gate to Oban. The outer district was decidedly less well kept than the center, and while the buildings they passed were tall, and the streets were full, most of the pedestrians wore the clothes of poverty, and the walls looked worn with age. Still, guards bearing the crest of Oban's royal family patrolled, sticking out like sore thumbs.

A checkpoint was all that split them from the more well-off parts of the city. Their application was twofold: The Royal Guard would check for stolen goods or contraband, and they would restrict the entry of anybody who they deemed had no place among the rest of the city. When the Wagon approached, a bearded human clad in a full set of what appeared to be iron plated armor would raise his hand for the cart to stop, his subordinates tilting their heads in wonder at the self moving vehicle.

"Mandatory inspection. Remain still." He barked in a gruff voice.

He gestured to his subordinates, and the two other young faced human men jogged around the wagon, popping the tailgate open and climbing inside. They seemed to pay Jon no mind, merely poking and moving what little they did have in the wagon.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jon rested on the way to Oban. He smiled at Varys, watching him tighten the strings. “Almost looks like a harp.” He complimented him. “Do you play well?” The redhead sat up and propped up his back with a pillow, setting the basket of flowers aside. They had more than enough inventory. Thankfully the glass jars from Volta would enable them to have a few decently large shows. With nobles not used to the presence of the flowers, Varys was right. They stood to make a lot of money.

“Bit weird being poor.” He mentioned. “I’ve always had the Iron Mountain to fall back on. A nest egg. Now for the first time in my life I’m genuinely poor.” He grinned at the elf. “It’s incredible.”

Jon was a bit naive and he knew that. Poor people struggled. They suffered. It wasn’t a good existence. At the same time he’d severed the last bit of control Emelia had over him. Or, she had quite neatly shot herself in the foot. He wasn’t bound to her bank account anymore. It was all his own success. He settled in for the trip, grateful that Hob was feeling better.

The wound was scabbed over, but thankfully not infected. Hob stood still as the guards inspected the wagon, one ear flitted back toward them. Jon was as polite as a man who looked that exhausted could be, moving baskets and himself when they needed him to.

“Good morning gentlemen. Do you happen to know of a decent hotel nearby?” Jon asked them.

Varys
 
Varys watched the men check over their inventory with only a slightly annoyed look. He supposed they were just doing what they could to avoid in a dungeon themselves, so he couldn't fault them for following orders. He did find it mildly amusing that Jon seemed so enthusiastic about being poor. While Varys obviously had reason to disagree, he would agree with Jon in that there was a rush to never knowing where your next meal was coming from. Living from day to day on a wing could be exhilarating, and he imagined even more so when one had just cut ties like Jonathan had.

The men finish their inspection, and one hops out of the wagon clumsily. The other turns to Jon, raising an eyebrow. Was the tourist drunk, or had he not slept in ages? Either way, the slurred speech didn't speak well to his chances in the innermost districts of Oban, especially if he wanted to impress the King.

"The Widow's Head. Head forward from here and turn left when you spot the fountain." He follows his fellow Guardsman, and the report back to the heavily armored commander. Varys narrows his eyes as they speak, clutching the box Jon had given him tightly. He watches the iron plated man shake his head before looking up at Varys.

"You're clear to go on through, but don't set those things off without written permission. Are we clear?"

Varys rolled his eyes. "Written Permission" was code for bribing a guard to give consent. Everything in this town was a shakedown for the nobles. It reminded him far too much of his life in Fal'Addas. He nods at the bearded man regardless. "Crystal." He reaches down and pats Hob, signaling him to move through.

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan thanked them, and watched Varys give Hob the signal to move. Was he mad, or did Hob lean into that touch just a little? His apprentice and the pooka were becoming fast friends. Hopefully that was going to translate into gold when night fell. He watched Hob guide them, and patted Varys.

“Keep an eye on Hob. If you’re going to use him to keep your magic stable, you’re going to have to trust him. Magic has a cost, an ebb and flow to its use. Hob is like...having a rudder in that current. He can help steer you. Nothing too showy. Just get their attention and start talking up the nobles.” Jonathan instructed him. “Hob can get your clothes straightened out, don’t worry about that.”

The pooka backed the wagon into the alley beside The Widow’s Head, and Jon counted out some of the petty cash from the lockbox. A little concentration, and coppers became gold. Enough to get them two rooms, anyway, and a bath for Jonathan.

“Hob? I figure we’ll switch off because I can’t afford three roo-“

I’ll sleep in his room. Hob said quickly, blushing.

“Oh...Kay. Varys? You alright sharing a bed?” Jon asked his apprentice.

Varys
 
Clearing his throat, Varys nodded his head. "Yes. We'll be fine, it'll be better for you that way. You need all the rest you can get. Hob can be a bed hog, but I believe I can make him play nice." He looks over at the Pooka knowingly, before turning back to Jonathan. "I'll be careful. Hob has already saved my life on a couple occasions. Least I can do is lean on him a bit."

Sliding off of the wagon, he walks over to the pooka and places a hand on his head. "We'll head to Solari Square. It's more or less a center for entertainment. When festivals or performances happen, odds are you'll find them happening in the square. Should mean our target audience will already be close by."

He heads out of the alley with a wave to Jon. "I'll leave the inn to you, Jon. Stay safe, okay?"

Waiting for Hob to follow, Varys locks his arms behind his back and wanders down the streets of Oban's inner districts as though he knew them by heart. The elf hadn't realized the oddity of his own behavior, or that the memories he was now tapping into were not his own. He turns to Hob and smiles brightly, seeming oddly chipper about the prospect of wandering through town with him. "It feels like I haven't been back here in ages. Once we get some money, I'm taking you out, just like I promised."

Jonathan Burr
 
Jonathan nodded. “I’ll get you two a room then.” He told them, and frowned a bit. “You’ve been to Oman a lot, have you? I thought the first time we passed through here was your first time. Or was your adventure with that young woman more than educational?” He gave Varys a knowing smirk, and Hob pinned his ears back a little.

The pooka grabbed the basket and followed Varys, one eyebrow raised. Funny enough, you’re walking around like you grew up here. He pointed out. Especially to know where the nobles gather.

The pooka smirked a bit. Let’s worry about getting everyone’s stomachs filled and our flowers made before thinking about taking me to dinner. He said, but the cheerfulness was infectious. After all, they’d been on the run since Volta. It was nice to get back to business as usual, even if he was just the mysterious floating basket behind the elf.

Varys
 
Varys' movement paused, his whole body freezing to think about what Hob had just pointed out. The smile that had been plastered on his face struggled to remain, until the corners of his mouth fell. He brings one of his hands to his forehead, shaking his head against his palm.

"I don't know why I know all that, Hob. It's as though... I feel as though I've been here so often, when I know it's only my second time..."

He slowly began to move again, looking back at Hob with a puzzlement in his eyes. He hadn't told Jon about what had been happening, as they'd been far too busy trying to stay alive. Hob was trustworthy though... Varys knew that now. "Ever since I had that Electric Dreams mage poke around in my head, I'm remembering things that I don't think ever happened to me. I've kept quiet about it, because Jon has enough to worry about right now. This place, though... It's way too familiar."

They were coming upon a large square, situated in the heart of the city. It was adorned with a massive mosaic display, depicting a Griffin handing down a feather to a human male. Guards were situated around this mosaic, where it appeared a large gathering of the wealthy were hosting a dinner of some sort, tables lined up and down beneath the colorful decorations hanging from the ceiling.

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob looked around, frowning a bit and raising one ear. Well...I don’t know. Maybe it’s something to do with everything that’s been going on. Jonathan says places and things have memories themselves. Some Transmuters can even talk to inanimate objects. Jon’s tried....he’s more skilled at changing one to the other. He mentioned, and put the basket on his hip. He steadied it with his smaller hands, patting Varys reassuringly.

Let’s find somewhere to set up. You’re going to have to practice activating these. He pointed out. Hob found a small area, not too out of the way of the festivities, and set the basket down. You’re not skilled enough yet, so stand in front of the basket and hold your hand out, palm down.

He waited until Varys did so, then knelt and put his own hands on the ground. The tiles crackled and popped up, grinding against one another as they propped up to form a table, roughly waist height to Varys. Hob nodded his approval and stood next to Varys, picking up a flower and handing it to him. To the onlookers, it would appear that the elf had summoned a table out of nowhere and commanded a brightly colored paper ball into his palm.

Theatre. When Jon was still learning he had me do this. Hob explained.

Varys
 
Hob's words did do a measure to make him feel a bit more at ease, even if the pooka didn't know what was happening, he at least could keep an eye on Varys, to ensure he didn't fall too far into whatever memories he was experiencing. Of course, now it was time to actually attempt to perform. He'd have been lying if he claimed he wasn't nervous; He and Jon hadn't had time to practice anymore due to the Volta incident.

He casts a look to the nobles in the square as Hob set things down. Already, one in particular was eyeing the Elf with an unreadable expression. It set off some extra nerves, to be sure, but then he was used to being scrutinized by richer folk.

He extends his hand out and points his palm downward, taking a step back as Hob works his magic. As he watches the table form from the tiles in the ground, he can't help but wonder if his current, male form meant that Jon still hadn't gone to sleep, or that his sleep wasn't deep enough to effect him. He'd love to know more about how this 'bond' between them worked...

"Theatre? Feels a bit more like cheating, honestly." He smiles a bit, taking weight of the ball he now held. "I'm counting on you to help me through this, Hob. I can't claim to carry my own weight magically yet...."

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob chuckled and looked at Varys. You’re going to need to learn this eventually but I can hide quite a lot. It’s not cheating. Not yet. But some of the best Transmuters are thieves. Think about it, Varys. Learn to speak to a door...and there isn’t a lock in the world you can’t charm. Something to think about. He grinned, pulling back the flaps on his face to show his serrated teeth. Now, you’ve got the nobles’ attention making a table. I want you to concentrate heat in the center of your palm. You’re not making fire. You’re gathering your body heat. It helps to think of a cord tightening. Or...what we did last night. The tension right before you last let loose. Think of that, and bring that heat up from your hips into your palm. Some people like to think of a noose or cork tightening. This is more fun...and more powerful.

The pooka leaned on the table and watched him, ears up. Now, set the basket to one side, and light the flower. Dont grasp it tight or you’ll blow your fingers off. Throw it upward. Get some attention. That’s a screamer. It will shriek loudly and burst. Then we can move to the cuter ones. The pooka instructed, and moved behind him.
Varys
 
Hob was right, Varys would eventually need to learn how to do this if he was to be of any real use. He was supposed to be an apprentice after all, and he'd learned so little about the actual act that Jonathan preformed. He raised a thin eyebrow at Hob's suggestion of the potential uses of learning to harness such a talent, "You're such a bad influence, you know that?" He joked, knowing that not too long ago he'd have been all over the idea.

Somehow, closing his eyes and trying to focus the heat in his own body was quite different than making a fire. Hob was right; while fire was all about expelling the heat, this was more akin to focusing it to a single point. It was more difficult than he'd expected, and when Hob started to not so subtly suggest he use their last rendezvous for inspiration, he winced. "That's gonna be more of a distraction than anything else, Bun." He murmured. Still, he did get the idea that Hob was trying to get across, and he visualized the internal pressure building up inside him, straining and struggling in vain before all the pressure was released at once. At the same time he feels that release, he tosses the flower up.

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob lifted his ears as the ball was thrown skyward. It burst into a small shower of golden sparks, with a loud shriek of sound. Tiny golden coins tinkled on the ground, rolling about before puffing into more little spark showers. Perfect! A little more concentration next time. You’ll get a better use of the ingredients the more energy you put into it. Now call out to the crowd. Advertise. White Rabbit Fire Flowers! Amuse and delight. Put a little spin of your own on it. The pooka instructed, pinching Varys’ rear affectionately.

Jonathan had transmuted a bit of wood into silver. Enough to get him a steaming bath. He laid back and sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing. He felt so much better in the embrace of the warm water, clean and content, arms flopped over the sides with his neck propped up by a sponge. He yawned, and closed his eyes. He hoped Hob and Varys were getting on.

Varys
 
Varys had kept his eyes closed for almost the entire duration of the flower's eruption, too nervous about the possibility of his own failure to bear looking up. When he hears the telltale shrieking of the flower, he can't help but look up at it with the most obnoxious grin on his face. It wasn't perfect, but it was so much more than Varys had thought himself able to accomplish. The breath he'd been holding escapes him as he looks down at Hob. "You're one hell of a teacher in your own regard, Hob! It worked just the way you said it would!"

The idea of advertising to the nobles and hamming it up for the haughty and well-off didn't really appeal to him much. He wasn't much of a showman unless it was a one on one affair. In Fal'Addas, he would always make sure to tuck himself away in an alley and out of sight before making the pitch. Here, he needed to be seen by as many people as he could.

Turning begrudgingly to at least make an attempt, he's met with an odd sight. The noble who'd been eyeing him before had risen from his seat, and now made his way towards Varys and Hob. He looked to be an older man, his head bare and only wisps of a beard on his chin, his appearance much rougher and weathered than the silken robes of gold and orange he wore. His eyes were narrow and cold, but the closer he got to Varys, the softer they seemed to become.

"San'Seya? Old Varys San'Seya, is that you? Did you actually...?" He reached out suddenly, wrapping his thin arms around a rather stricken Varys. The man knew his name, but the other half of the name was... it wasn't foreign, but it felt like he hadn't heard it in such a long time. His eyes went wide, his hands raising to his sides as if he was avoiding touching the man as he continued to speak.

"I can't believe you're alive, my old friend. After those fires, I wasn't sure you'd had a chance to finish your work!"

His father. This old man thought Varys was his father, successfully living in a custom made, young body. What did he do? The rush of raw emotion that came with being confronted by his father's actions aside... this could be their ticket that they needed to get some money... He turns his head to look at Hob, as if searching for any sort of guidance.

Jonathan Burr
 
Hob laughed. Of course it did! You’re actually pretty good at this. Maybe we should see if you can talk to the flowers next. He said in amusement. The pooka watched as the nobleman approached, throwing his arms around Varys and calling him...by name? Did Varys meet the old man the first time they’d come through? The references to fire and work got the pooka’s ears up.

Quick. Tell him the fires were from the magic eating itself. You gained your new body but lost everything overnight. He told him. And hug him back, dammit. This is your chance to find out everything you need to know about your father’s work!

Hob studied the older man, walking around them in a circle. They needed the old man’s name. How to explain that they didn’t? Memory gaps perhaps? Perhaps the spell wasn’t perfect? The spell wasn’t perfect. You lost some of your memories. Play it up!

The pooka felt it. The slip. Like he was falling asleep himself. He swore and dashed behind a tree...and just in time. He shed the bestial, masculine form Jon assigned him. He was a naked rabbit behind a tree. Invisibility took time to accomplish. She had to force it in her natural form. She winced. Dammit! A few deep breaths, and she vanished from view. She didn’t know how long she could hold that. She had to get dressed. Quickly!

The pooka dashed down an alleyway, eyes up. Oh thank the gods, someone was doing laundry this evening. She leapt up and yanked the dress down. It was modest, and to be honest a bit small, but it had to do. She tugged it over her head and pulled her ears out, smoothing down the fabric. Alright. She had to conserve her magic to help Varys.

Hob delicately stepped out from the alleyway and touched Varys’ shoulder. “Varys love? Who’s this?” She asked, innocently and sweetly turning her large yellow eyes on the man.

Varys
 
Varys turned his head away from Hob when he began to suggest playing along with this noble. He knew it was the smartest choice for what they needed... but the sheer amount of personal disgust and raw emotion he would need to choke down into the pit of his stomach was daunting. Already, he was fighting not to shake. Varys was his father's name. He'd just read it in the book, and heard his father call him that, and assumed it was his own, unique name. Even that had been a fabrication; He was just a second body for his father, with no identity of his own. He didn't even have a name.

He was literally nobody.

Swallowing the words he wanted to say, the emotion in his eyes dulling as he tried to process the latest renewal of his endless crisis of identity, he gingerly hugs the man back, patting the frail fellow's back. "Yes, well... The flames did nearly kill me, but I was able to quite narrowly escape. Luckily I'd just finished my task the dusk before..." There was a noticeable hollowness to his words, his only method of hiding the seething anger that saying such a thing brought him.

The man pulled back, patting him on the shoulder before looking him up and down. "You got lucky, then. Most people who lived in those forests didn't make it out. I have to say, the final product is impeccable. Looks just about identical, albeit younger." The old man raises a questioning eyebrow. "What took you so long to come back to Oban, Varys?"

The elf forced a smile, and bowed his head. He'd specifically chosen to ignore one part of Hob's idea, as insinuating that he might have been responsible for the terrible Falwood wildfires of 365 probably would have been a bad idea. "There was an unexpected side effect of The Prism, I'm afraid. My memories are spotty at best, non-existent at worst. I've been traveling Arethil, trying to patch things back together."

He feels the heat of a body against his back, and turns to see Hob in her normal state, dressed in a rather... form fitting... dress. The blush that rises to his cheeks would have made responding to the situation difficult, had the noble not extended a hand to Hob on his own accord.

"Ah, the eternal bachelor has finally found a lady? Maybe getting your memories knocked loose helped you stop being such a prude, San'Seya. My name is Nithrow Vailus, you can call me Niv, if you so desire."

Jonathan Burr
 
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