The Salle, Thursday Midday

[not_every_mage]

Anders was often lazy bordering on irresponsible about practicing magic. He could do what he needed to do when it was necessary, and the rest of the time there were so many more pleasant ways to spend his time.

But when you woke up to a monster duffle bag next to your pillow and had to kick prisoner and cursed suitcases out of the way just to get to the privy, it was time to set some shit on fire. Anders set up the targets in the salle as far from the door as he could get for the sake of privacy, then let loose. The bags wouldn't burn without instantly reappearing, but that didn't stop him from trying.

[OOC: Open salle/post.]

Comments

[seeks_truth]

Encountering a suitcase that had simply read Anthony that morning had not done great things for Cassandra's mood. A trip to the salle, then, seemed sensible, if simply to work out her flaming anger issues irritation.

To say that her face did not hold a pleasant expression when she walked into the salle, only to catch the mage throwing dangerous magic around-- would be a colossal understatement. "Mage."

[not_every_mage]

Anders, for his part, looked equally irritated when he glanced over.

"What do you want?"

[seeks_truth]

"I wanted to make use of the salle for its intended purpose," Cassandra said flatly. "This is not a place to make such frivolous use of fire magic."

[not_every_mage]

"And here I thought the room set aside for working with weapons was the best possible place for me to practice with my weapon," Anders said, mildly as he could manage. "I'm hardly taking up the whole place."

He shuffled to the side a bit as he spoke. Cassandra didn't need to see his anger at authority figures valise.

[seeks_truth]

"Your weapon requires stronger precautions, if you insist on lashing out as such."

Yeah, so Cassandra's feeling helpless bag was going largely ignored at the moment.

[not_every_mage]

"Stronger than being in a room set aside for using weapons and standing well back from the door so nobody gets in the way," Anders repeated dubiously. "Look, I'll switch to working with Spirit if it'll get you to shut up. Nothing ever got set on fire by Spirit."

[seeks_truth]

"That would be acceptable," Cassandra said. "Barely. You seem quite furious."

Rattled by own new powers was a mercifully small suitcase that she could simply nudge idly out the door.

[not_every_mage]

"I can't imagine why," Anders said dryly. "I love being followed around by bags with all my problems written on them."

A pause as he tilted his head at her, considering something. "Anyhow, you aren't in the best of moods yourself."

[seeks_truth]

"I love being followed around by bags with all my problems written on them," Cassandra echoed. Dryly. And without his emphasis. "Whatever this magic is, it had better take its leave sooner rather than later."

Or someone might wind up stabbed.

No, shut up, backpack. She did not have anger issues.

[not_every_mage]

Her backpack could keep Anders' Likes Fighting a Little Too Much fanny-pack company.

"Last time I think it just lasted a day," Anders said, and sighed. "One very long day. I don't understand the magic of it either, by the way."

[seeks_truth]

She looked towards Anders's decidedly uncombusted luggage.

"I can see that."

[not_every_mage]

Anders followed her gaze, smiled ruefully. "It didn't help, but it was fun to try. Besides, practice is good for me."

[seeks_truth]

"On that, we disagree." At least as long as he was choosing to do it in a public facility with no wards or Templars present. (Control freak dropped down in front of her. She kicked it.) "What is the meaning of it? Does it simply seek to torment us with the past?"

The 'Anthony' one was still the one that had really gotten to her.

[not_every_mage]

"Then you're wrong," Anders said. "Unpracticed magic is even worse than an unpracticed blade. You of all people should be able to see that."

Never mind that he only remembered to practice when he was in a bad mood to start with. He firmly believed he was right on principle.

"Anyhow," he sighed. "I think it's about torturing us, yes. That and starting uncomfortable conversations with anybody we're seeing. If you can avoid Face today, I'd recommend it."

The memory of seeing Nathan's murderer bag was a little too sharp.

[seeks_truth]

"Magic should be practiced under the right circumstances," Cassandra said, because she had never been particularly good at-- Too rude, too direct, oh, Maker's breath-- keeping things in. "Not angrily in a facility that is hardly--"

She scowled at the suitcase. "... I will be happy to avoid anyone," she snapped.

And anyone would be happy to avoid her, going by the way she'd just drawn her sword.

[not_every_mage]

"You can start avoiding me whenever you'd like," Anders offered, though -- from the way he kept talking -- he didn't seem to expect Cassandra to go just yet. "Or at least stop waving your sword around while you're lecturing me about safety, dear Maker."

He was ignoring the never stops talking handbag at his feet. It seemed a bit self-evident.

[seeks_truth]

"My sword is not likely to harm you unless I wish it to," Cassandra said mildly. "It does not explode, for instance."

[not_every_mage]

Anders looked at the blade in Cassandra's hand with distinct skepticism.

"No, but I could suddenly trip and impale myself on it," he offered. "And then wouldn't you be sorry?"

[seeks_truth]

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," she said.

A second Control freak bag dropped down and rolled towards Anders' feet.

"Now, I believe you had planned to shift to Spirit, and I must train. Let us do so in silence."

[not_every_mage]

"But I was enjoying our chat so much," Anders protested, mainly to be contrary. He snickered at the bag at his feet, nudged it back toward Cassandra before turning toward his own bit of Salle.

"All right. Silent training. I'll even throw up a ward so the scary magic doesn't explode anything near you."

[seeks_truth]

"I am very grateful." Not that one could tell by her tone. "Perhaps now you can stop talking."

Yes, she'd noticed that one.

[not_every_mage]

"For a few minutes, at least," Anders said, and had the gall not to look embarrassed as he wandered off to set the ward.

[cracksmostly]

It was probably a good thing this baggage business was happening to Merrill now, and not some years later, but not having that particular bit of insight she looked rather perturbed by the small collection of rolling suitcases she was dragging around after her, all labeled outsider, the odd one, and various synonyms thereof.

She'd just been roaming around the school grounds, but when she heard the sounds coming from the salle she had to poke her head in.

And then trot the rest of the way in, pulling the bags behind her.

"Anders! Oh, do you have them too?"

[not_every_mage]

"I think we all do," Anders said, in a decidedly more pleasant tone than the one Cassandra had gotten. "I've been trying to set mine on fire, but they don't burn. I might go to the pond to throw them in."

[cracksmostly]

"Oh, maybe that would work better," Merrill said thoughtfully. "I tried to leave mine behind a rock in the preserve earlier, but they just turned up again."

She glanced toward his bags -- briefly, but not so briefly that she couldn't make out some of their labels assuming she could see them.

"Does it at least feel better, trying to set them on fire?"

[not_every_mage]

"I don't know if we actually can get rid of them," Anders admitted. "Never figured out a way to the last time this happened. But all the trying makes me feel better."

He half-smiled at Merrill, shrugging and trying to look as if tthis bothered him less than it did. The bags she could see were what one might call the Circle Deluxe pile; prisoner and tainted and risk of possession and taken from home.

[cracksmostly]

"This has happened before?" Merrill seemed like she didn't know whether to be worried or relieved by that. (Probably a little bit of both.) "I thought it might be an odd quirk of the weather, but the weather doesn't usually get to know everyone well enough to give them things meant just for them."

A messenger bag that read sent away toppled off her pile, followed by a slightly larger one with sent away again on it.

". . . whatever it is, I wish it didn't know."

[not_every_mage]

"Me too," Anders nodded, heart-felt. "I can't see how it does. I suppose we might be projecting them somehow, but that's still terribly complicated."

He chewed on a thumbnail. "I've never heard of demons taking the shape of luggage, have you?"

[cracksmostly]

"Creators, no, can you imagine?" Merrill couldn't help a small laugh. "I can't even think what kind of demon would want to."

[not_every_mage]

"I have no idea," Anders said, with a little laugh of his own. "Maybe the spirit of whatever animal died so we could make the bags, for revenge."

[cracksmostly]

"If a spirit possessed a piece of luggage, what would it do?" wondered Merrill, with the nonchalance of someone for whom the concept was more an academic question than a practical concern. "Rattle the wheels a little bit, if it had them?"

A clutch purse that said gets scolded for getting too lost in her studies appeared on top of the pile. She ignored it, or maybe just didn't notice. It was hard to tell.