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TotL: Smouldering Decay: Staking a Claim (continued)
TotL: Smouldering Decay: Staking a Claim (continued)
#1
Alright, rather than perform a 1+ year zombie thread resurrection I figured I'd start a new one.
For those who have forgotten what's going on (it's been a while) the last part is here.

Many thank to Spud for usage of his characters and being a beta.

Tales of the Legendary
[A Hero Sandwich Production]
Smouldering Decay: Staking a Claim (pt 6.5)

It took a little convincing to get Chris into a cold shower to start with, but he 'woke up' once he joined me under the chilly spray. I only got to try out my top three ideas when my stomach grew tired of silently complaining about it's empty state (which I was happily ignoring), and gurgled loud enough for Chris to hear.

The sound was different enough from my normal vocalizations that Chris paused mid-stroke. When I looked over my shoulder at him to see what was wrong, I couldn't help but giggle at his his confused expression. Unfortunately the cold water conspired with strange variety of sounds I was now making and killed the mood.

Chris held me at arms length and looked to make sure I hadn't hurt myself. "Are you… ok?" Chris asked as I got my giggles under control and nodded.

I stepped out of the shower and Chris followed me. The cold water wasn't fun any more without any strenuous physical activity to keep us warm. "Yah, yah, I'm fine." I said, grabbing a towel for myself and passing one to him. "I just need something to eat. You want eggs or cereal for break-"

I stopped mid-sentence as I finally got a good look at myself in the mirror. Or more accurately, what was left of my hair. The left side was about half as long as the right, and the ends were burned.

Chris paused in drying his hair when I stopped speaking and looked at me in the mirror. "Oh, um, yah. I was wondering how you managed to wear your hair as long as you did - do. Sorry?" He said. The final bit sounded like he wasn't quite sure if it was his fault, but he was willing to error on the safe side.

I turned around to look at him directly, instead of in the reflection of a fogged mirror. "No saying sorry. Did I tell you not to handle my hair? No." I said, not waiting for him to come up with an answer. "In fact I seem to remember liking it when you did." I smiled and continued "We'll just have to figure out a way to prevent this in the future."

Chris seemed reassured by the lack of blame being assigned. "Alright, I kinda stopped trying to keep long hair after a while. But your not exactly the crewcut type."

Any further discussion about hair styles was tabled as my stomach complained again about it's empty state. "Right, breakfast." I said "You want cereal, eggs, or ... I might be able to whip something else up."

"Cereal is fine." Chris replied as he followed me into the bedroom. "Just as long as there is some nutritional value to it."

I refused to acknowledge the small eddies of soot that were kicked up in my path from the bathroom door to the dresser. Cleaning, lots of cleaning, would have to take place later. For now I just concentrated on finding a clean shirt and underwear. As I pulled my head through the top of my t-shirt I heard a puzzled 'huh' come from the hallway.

I exited into the hallway to find Chris, now with the towel around his waist, holding up his pants. The cause of his confusion became apparent as I approached, the pants now qualified as 'ass-less'. Two handprints were scorched clean through the seat of his pants. And while they probably could still function well enough to prevent public decency charges, he clearly didn't consider them fit to be worn in public.

"I guess I got a little a little impatient last night… " I started to apologize.

"No saying sorry" Chris echoed back at me with a smirk. Then he looked at the pants again. "These were toast before the fighting was even over. I just normally have another pair."

I took a look at the tag on the pants and said "Well I can take care of that. I know just where to pick up a pair." as I led the way into the kitchen.

Chris abandoned the pants in the hall and followed me, starting to protest "You don't have to buy me clothes -"

"No, but I want to." I interrupted as I acquired various breakfast necessities from around the kitchen. "Besides, it was my fault they got destroyed. And I intend to pick up a pair that can withstand my attention."

"Ok, I'm not arguing with that logic." Chris said as we consumed cereal "Just nothing skintight alright?"

Of course now that he had said that I couldn't keep from thinking of him in nothing but a pair of skintight leather pants. But I settled for assenting a "mm-mm" around my spoon. Conversation tapered off as we concentrated on replacing calories burned last night. As my stomach quieted down in it's protests the idea of Chris in leather pants, and getting him out of those pants, began to tempt me. It wasn't the strong NEED that dominated last night, but proximity and recent memory were doing a good job reminding me just how easy it would be to stay inside and not worry about lack of clothes. At least for a while.

I needed to distract myself from the temptation that was clad solely in a towel and sitting across the table from me. Getting Chris into something more than just a towel should help, I hoped.

Chris had a second bowl, while I deposited mine in the sink. "Need anything besides pants, underwear, and a shirt?" I asked.

Chris looked thoughtful for a minute then shook his head. I skipped back to the bedroom to acquire shorts, shoes, and hat. Phone and wallet were retrieved from the clothing strewn in the hallway. On my way out I stuck my head in the kitchen "Make yourself at home, anything in the fridge is fair game. I should be back in about an hour."

Chris swallowed and said "Sure, but I make no promises to wear any surprises you bring back."

I gave him a playful pout and said "Fine. Call me if something comes up."

Chris waved goodbye with one hand and continued to shovel cereal in with other.

I knew where to pick up clothes for Chris. Rough Enough was the same place I got my tough skirt and top. They professed to make the strongest mass produced clothing available, and I certainly believed them. Their store was positioned on the north end of Brickstown, and matched the rest of the neighborhood. Brick, metal, and rivets dominated the outside, as well as the inside decor. I'm not sure if it was a conscious design decision, or just lazy interior decorating. But the minimalist approach certainly captured the general attitude of their clothing: no frills, no comfort-fit, just clothing that could take a beating and look better than you did afterwards. I started browsing in their underwear department, looking for items with a little flame icon on the tag. The icon/tag system seemed a little convoluted at times, but it worked well enough. Cost was exponentially related to how many tags were attached to a piece of clothing. I was tempted to browse through the section that had impervium weave, but my libido's protective impulses lost to fiscal responsibility.

Boxer-briefs were quickly joined by a few t-shirts and a pair of jeans, all guaranteed to withstand repeated exposure to 700 ºC. I made a quick pass through the bedroom section, but ended up wincing at the prices for sheets. I couldn't afford anything in synthetic, let alone cotton. Looks like it was back to experimentation in the bedroom, and not the fun kind. Deciding to spare my bank account any further trauma, I took what I had to the checkout. The casher gave me a strange look. I'm not sure if it was over the gender of the clothes, or my lopsided hair that was sticking out underneath the ballcap. Nonverbal social commentary aside, the obviously bored casher rang me up and I was on my way with minimal fuss.

I walked back to the apartment instead of launching myself on a ballistic trajectory. It gave me time to think about what things I might need to do.

First on the list was cleanup; the carbon scorching was worst in the bedroom, but we had left a trail of soot and ash all the way from the front door. I didn't think anything important had been damaged, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Mental Note: pick up some heat tolerant prophylactics. We hadn't used any last night. And while I was confident that my cycle combined with my powers had kept my womb on a strict scorched earth policy, I wasn't ready to risk anything in roughly a week when my fertility started to peak. After all, I still ovulated, and there was at least one other fire-centric witch in the local magic users group that got a surprise when she assumed her oven was too hot to bake bread. The next generation of superheroes had to come from somewhere, and I had no clue how heat tolerant Chris's little swimmers were.

Next on the list was better fireproofing; while I had zero regrets about what had happened last night, doing it again without recreating the mess that waited for me at the apartment would be preferable. My vacuum cleaner had started to make unhappy noises last time I had to clean up after my failed warding experiments, I don't think it could deal with much more abuse.

Any further musing was put on hold as I arrived home. Chris's voice drifted towards me as I shut the front door. He was facing away from the door, crouched in the hallway picking through the detritus we has left in our wake last night. I leaned against a clean patch of wall to watch him for a moment as he talked on his cell that was wedged between cheek and shoulder. Chris had found the broom and dustpan and was doing his best to simultaneously clean the soot and ash off the floor, pick out the salvageable clothing, and carry on a phone conversation.

"-told ya' I can't leave right now. I'm kinda stuck here… No, I'm not cuffed to the bed!" I had to repress a laugh at that, but Chris didn't seem to hear me as he held up a pair of boxers. I could see handprints too small to be his scorched in strategic areas. He continued in a mildly amused tone of voice "I'm just short on clothing at the moment. Lisa was a little… impatient last night." He tossed the boxers into a pile to his right, where they added to the growing mound of scorched cloth. "No… I dunno… I'm not telling ya' that Kentucky." A sock was inspected and tossed into a significantly smaller pile on his left. "Fine, fine. Worlds were rocked, beds were broken, and the neighbors told us to quiet down. Happy now?"

I couldn't keep from laughing at the sarcastic way he delivered that last line. The sight of Chris spinning around and facepalming as he realized he had more than one listener only increased my mirth. I heard a semi-muffled "Gotta go, talk to ya later." before Chris made is way over to me. He watched me laugh quietly for a few seconds before saying "Well I guess that means your not mad at me."

I got my laughter under control and passed him the bag with his clothing. "Mad at you? For bragging a bit about how good last night was? Not in the least. I'd be offended if you thought it was only ok." I said with a smirk. Then I nodded at his phone and asked "That was Kentucky? Anything come up?"

Chris looked up from his quick perusal of the clothing in the bag. "Nothing major, just checking in to make sure I wasn't dehydrated and suffering from a crushed pelvis." His smirk turned into a slight frown "But there are a few things I should take care of." His expression and the way he glanced at the floor let me guess he didn't want to leave the leave all of the cleanup to me when he felt partially responsible for the destruction.

"No problem." I said "I'll help you finish sorting though the clothing here, and then you can go take care of whatever those things are. Deal?"

He gave me a grateful smile and peck on the lips "Thanks."

I paused in my scavenging of the items on the floor to run a finger over one of the wards set in the wall. A scorched handprint overlaid part of it, and while the brass of the glyph was never in any danger, the plaster it was set it had flaked a bit around the edges. "Maybe I should paint these over." I wondered out loud.

Chris set one of my shoulderpads with it's pair by the bedroom door and joined my in my inspection of the wall. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked. "They look nice. And wouldn't it make maintenance harder?"

"Thanks, but some people do not share our taste in wall decorations." I said. "The maintenance on these isn't all that hard anyways. I know where all of them are, and a coat of paint isn't going to stop them from working."

"Are these 'some people' anyone in particular? Cause I didn't think you cared what Joe Smith thought of your hallway decorations."

I picked at the charred plaster for a few seconds before answering. "Gamma… the, uh… local me. She had… issues with the wards, and I don't want to burn any more bridges before I get the chance to build some."

"Oh." He said, and then was quiet for a few moments. I thought that was all he was going to say before he continued "I don't know what happened between you and her. I can say this much though: she'll make you regret pissing her off, but what you do now matters more that what you did."

I wondered how much more I would regret before this was all over while we finished sorting through the salvageable clothing. It was quick work, if only because there was so little of it. Everything of Chris's besides the shoes and socks was toast. My clothing faired a bit better. The boots, socks, and shoulderpads were fine. My vest and skirt seemed have acquired another layer of soot. But my body stocking was a different story. It lay on the floor of my bedroom, one leg trailing into the hallway, like a shed snakeskin. I had apparently thought it too much work last night to get out of it normally, and had instead melted a path from neck to navel through the strings the held it together. One or two broken connections I could repair, but the thirty or so I had burnt through last night? I might as well scrap it and start over.

"Something wrong?" Chris asked me as I toed the remains of my costume.

Chris had changed into his new clothes while I was lost in thought, they looked good on him. "Nothing that can't be fixed."

"I hate to bail when there's still stuff to clean…" He started to say.

"But you have things to do besides me." I finished with a bit of a smirk.

Chris nodded as he transferred his wallet and keys from the ruined pair of pants to his current ones. I walked him to the front door and said "I expect a call before next friday." as I opened it for him.

He gave me a hug, a kiss, and a "Yes'm" before making his way up to the street. I closed the door and leaned against it, surveying the damage we had done to the hallway. This was going to take a while.

I stopped for lunch when I finished cleaning up the hallway, or at least the parts of it that wouldn't require a new coat of paint. There was less broken than I expected. Part of me noticed that I really didn't own all that much, at least not that was put on display like normal people. I'd been living in this dimension for how many months? I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to that question. And I still kept all my valued possessions in a duffel bag in the closet, ready to be grabbed if the bombing got bad enough to bring the building down. Two candles and a change bowl that fell off the hallway table could be easily replaced. Almost everything else, excluding the clothing, just needed a good scrubbing to clean off the light coating of carbon it had acquired.

The 'almost' part came into play with the scorched hand, hip, and other body part, prints that now decorated the walls. Closer to the front door things had been relatively cool enough that a sponge and elbow grease proved sufficient to remove them. But as clothing came off, and the temperature went up, the impressions we left behind got harder to remove. The worst of the bunch was next to the bedroom door. My entire back, from shoulders to ass, was imprinted on the wall. Of course the voids left behind by my bodysuit made it look like an abstract painting without a frame, but anyone who knew what my suit looked like would be able to put it together.

Lunch consisted of Up-N-Away burgers consumed on the roof of the building. I was too dirty to feel like eating in public (or relatively populated public), and I had stirred up enough soot into the air of my apartment to ruin the taste of any food eaten there. It was tempting to just sit in the sun and relax the day away. I was full of good food, my libido had finally shut up (for a few hours at least), and I didn't have any trolls or clockwork battling it out on my doorstep. Reluctantly I dragged myself back into my apartment, if I expected to get any sort of good sleep tonight the bedroom would have to be cleaned.

The vacuum lasted long enough to clean the ceiling, the bed, and most of the floor. Well not exactly 'clean', but sufficient soot was removed that it no longer snowed down from above and swirled around my feet. The last few wheezy coughs the vacuum made before seizing up entirely made me doubt it's ability to be repaired. I added 'acquire new vacuum' to the list of things I needed to get done tomorrow. Leaving the vacuum carcass in the corner I made my way into the bathroom. I stripped and stood underneath the spray, letting the warm water pound some of the weariness out of my body. I stayed that way until the water going down the drain was no longer a murky gray. Stepping out of the stall and toweling myself off I took a serious look at the mess that my hair was in.

It wasn't anywhere close to good. I had lost up to six inches in clumps and patches, mostly on my left side, but neither side of my head was unscathed. Resigning myself to the inevitable I started to try and salvage what I could. It was slow and somewhat awkward work with only one mirror,. But I managed to avoid further hair catastrophe by holding sections of hair away from head in one hand, and burning down the tips with the other. The end result was still something I wanted to hide behind a hat, but now at least the bits that would stick out would be the same length.

I hid my hair beneath a bandana and got dressed in some of my more civilian clothes while looking over the bed again. The sheets looked like they had been set upon by flaming moths, char-edged holes of various shapes and sizes perforated everything. They were certainly capable of performing their primary function, mainly keeping me warm at night. How many more nights of abuse they could withstand was the question. At least I wouldn't be lacking in cloth I could experiment on for quite some time.

I was mulling over possible spell modifications as I took out the trash. As I stared at the sad pile of ash and clothing too far gone to bother salvaging, it hit me. I knew exactly what get Gamma as a peace offering. Clothes, well not the mass-magic stuff I could pick up at Rough Enough. But clothes that were a real crafting. Something that wouldn't glow in the dark, block her powers, or fall apart in a week. My own clothing problems combined with what she had told me in my hallway gave me a firm handle on her own fabric related woes.

I was still in the dark about a lot of what made Gamma and me different, but I knew enough to make this work. The hard part would be making it work without the runes, or at least hiding them sufficiently. It would be challenge, a Crafting with a capital-c. But that made sense, building bridges is harder to do than burning them down.



Of course this isn't the end. Hopefully the next bit will be out on a slightly faster pace >.<
And oh, I'm planning on dragging Onyx into this mess, cause the dimensional displacies play so nicely together Smile
-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy
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#2
I have to note that re-reading this, I start getting this strange vibe that Decay and Wreckage are mainly really good friends and he's helping her through a rough patch with her girlfriend...

Which is totally not the impression I think I'm supposed to have. :lol:

Also, the mental image of Decay's ass immortalized in carbon scoring on the walls of her apartment is just utterly hilarious.

....wait, Onyx? Oh god, does that mean there's going to be a Sword cameo in a romantic comedy piece? XD
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
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#3
I've just finished a re-read myself, and I dunno, Ops, I think you're misinterpreting.  I see it as more of a thing where they're just at the beginning of a relationship -- whether that turns out to be hot-n-heavy romance or kinky friends-with-benefits or god-knows-what, is up for debate at the moment.  Certainly I don't know exactly where it'll end up.  Sweno doesn't tell me everything Big Grin

--sofaspud
--"Listening to your kid is the audio equivalent of a Salvador Dali painting, Spud." --OpMegs
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#4
hee hee, nice work sweno and worth the wait.

can't wait to see the next one Smile


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#5
Yeah All I can' really do is echo OM's statement about the mental imagery about the ...markings on the wall. That is pretty Effing funny. Great read as always dood!
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#6
And we now have the next piece. Thanks go out to Spud for beta-ing the piece, and to Ankh for both beta-ing and use of Enynn.

Tales of the Legendary
[A Hero Sandwich Production]
Smouldering Decay: Peace Offerings (pt. 1)


It took me the majority of the following day to transition my apartment into something resembling clean. A new vacuum and new sheets were acquired. The vacuum was put to work removing all the soot that I had failed to pick up the previous day. The sheets started to soak in my 'cauldron'. The cauldron was in reality a smallish metal trashcan, big enough to fit large projects (like an entire set of bed coverings), but small enough that I could still lift it when full of water. It currently sat on an industrial hot plate in the corner of the living room flanked by a plastic milk crates full of notebooks, and my toolbox. Aside from the sheets the trashcan was full of water, fabric softener, some aluminum hydroxide flakes, a small igneous rock, and a few other semi-magical items.

I didn't know the final magical enchantments I would use on the sheets. But that wasn't a reason not to get started. The longer the sheets steeped the more even the resulting enchantments tended to be. Soaking the sheets for longer than the six hours spent on the last set wouldn't save them if the enchantments I ended up placing on them weren't up to the task. But I hoped it would prevent them from suffering the same fate, mainly being full of little holes where the enchantment wasn't as evenly applied.

It was a little before six pm when I vanquished the last of the soot. There were still a few scorched body parts on the hallway walls, but those could be painted over at a later date. The washing machine had done an admirable job of removing the carbonized portions of clothing and linen fed into it. So barring any premature hedonistic romps with Chris, or energetic spell failure, my apartment was clean enough. This called for a celebration, or at least treating myself to a nice meal. I could get started on serious enchantment work after dinner. I turned the heat down on the hotplate, and hoped in the shower to clean up quickly.

I called Corrine as I was drying myself off and picking out clothing that would be suitable for both dinner and spellwork. Her voicemail picked up and I left a message. In my experience there were two only reasons why she wouldn't welcome the chance for hero gossip: she was otherwise occupied for the night, or she was worn out from work. Given Corrine's penchant for men and the somewhat hectic nature of MAGI I laid even odds on the two. In either case I would get a groggy call sometime tomorrow morning wanting to catch up.

One name did jump out at me while I was scrolling through the contacts on my phone though. Someone who I hadn't talked with in far too long and who might be able to help with the spellwork. Last I had heard, she might be just as preoccupied as Corrine, but it was worth a shot.

The phone picked up on the fourth ring to a somewhat groggy "Hello?"

"Hi Enynn, It's Decay. Sorry if I'm waking you." I said, and waited to hear if her response had any voices in the background.

There was some muted rustling before she replied "No, it's ok. I should be up anyway. What's going on?" She sounded marginally more awake, and there weren't any other questioning voices. Which meant that I probably hadn't interrupted anything.

"I need your help with some magic. I was going to offer dinner as payment, but maybe breakfast is more appropriate."

Enynn yawned and said "As long as the magic doesn't involve idiots in robes or aliens, food actually sounds like a good idea."

"Great. How does Hunan Slam sound? Or is Der Waffle House more up your alley?"

There was silence for a few seconds as Enynn mulled it over before she voted. "Hunan, see you there in … half an hour?"

"Half an hour." I confirmed. "Don't wear anything that can't get sooty."

"Yeah, yeah." She said through a smaller yawn. "When you're asking for magical help, soot is assumed."

"Ha ha ha." I deadpanned. "See you there."

"Later." Enynn said as she hung up.

I tossed my notebook and few other magical supplies into my satchel bag/overgrown purse and made my way out the door.


Hunan Slam was a smallish Chinese restaurant that was not afraid to make their food spicy. The owners were immigrants who knew how to make good authentic cuisine. At least I assumed the owners were immigrants, you don't get accents that thick and heavy growing up exposed to english. They were also not afraid to try and absorb traditional american dishes into their menu. More often than not their attempts were about as comprehensible as their speech, not at all. After making the mistake of trying the abomination they called 'chili', I have decided to stick the traditional dishes.

I was already seated at a table and doodling runes in my notebook when Enynn arrived. She saw me and worked her way over as I dropped my notebook in my bag. As Enynn made her way between the mostly vacant tables I was reminded that perhaps, just maybe, I should pay more attention to how I looked. She had on a simple camisole and skirt combo in dark red, accented with a braided belt in yellow and orange. High heel shoes of some variety were also evident, thought I picked that up more from how she walked than any clear view I had of them. It was simple clothing but it fit her well, conveying the idea of an outfit, a unified whole that matched, with far more subtlety than I was able to pull from my wardrobe.

"Hey Lisa, I didn't think you went for the gangster look." Enynn said with a nod to my bandana adorned head as she sat down. The bandana, a muted orange thing, was a throwback to my earlier days when I didn't have as fine grained control over my powers. It prevented my hair from going up in flames in a fight before I learned to modulate the temperate around my body. I had tried to match it with my shirt, a lighter orange tee, and cargo pants, rusty colored and full of pockets. But Enynn's comment echoed the doubt in my head that I would never turn more heads by walking into a room than by setting parts of it on fire.

I scowled briefly and tucked some of the burnt ends of hair that had worked their way free from under the bandana back into hiding. "Hey En. It's the least evil of the options I had available." I replied and couldn't quite keep the smile off my lips as I remembered once again what had lead to my impromptu haircut.

"You need better options." Enynn said with a smirk as she perused the menu.

"I'll take the occasional impromptu haircut over having to deal with shaving my legs, thanks" I said as I glanced over their beer selection. Sigh, nothing but cheap asian imports, the eastern equivalent of bud.

"One of these days you're going to overdo it and end up bald and missing your eyebrows." Enynn said, her tone half way between warning and joking.

"I haven't lost my eyebrows." I objected.

"Yet." was all Enynn had to say.

I didn't have an immediate comeback for that, so I settled for conceding her point with a slight nod.

I tried to think of a way to breach the topic I needed her help on that would minimize the inevitable teasing. My brain failed to up with one and I was left steering the conversation towards safer topics, like amusing costume gaffes in Atlas and failed villain plot of the week. Enynn was kind enough to not to bring up the topic I had mentioned over the phone, and was now avoiding, as we enjoyed spicy food and talked about nothing of major significance.

At least she waited until after we had finished our meals and I was waiting for the check.

"Soo…" Enynn drawled out, as she leaned back in her chair. "What magical problem messes up your hair, has you smiling more in past hour than I've seen in the past three missions we've been on together, and then causes you to avoid it like small rodents run from Sammy?"

I felt myself deflate and blush at the same time. I hid as best I could by putting my elbows on the table and burying my face in my hands. "prophylactics" I muttered.

I could see Enynn perk up through my fingers. "What was that?"

"Prophylactics." I said a little more clearly "I need some that don't melt."

"What do yo- Ooooh." Enynn said her voice shifting from confused to amused as pieces fell into place. She paused for a second then continued in a much more confidential tone. "Soo, who is it?"

When I didn't answer right away she began to guess. "There weren't any nuclear explosions, so it wasn't Terr. Which I honestly thought this was all about. Hmm, not Superball? I'd heard rumors that you two were seen together." She trailed off, waiting for a response.

"Flaming Wreckage!" I blurted out, more out of fear that people might consider my disastrous date with Superball something that could occur in this reality, than anything else.

Enynn's smile got wider. "Did Kentucky join in as well? I always thought that those two were joined at the hip. Having both at once, mmmm"

"What? No!" I said a little louder than I expected, feeling my face renew it's blush at that thought. I took a quick glance around, if the few other diners had taken notice of our conversation they were being polite and pretending they hadn't. "I'm not… safe for Kentucky to be around when I get excited." I continued in a quieter voice.

I saw a flicker of something behind her smile. "So you get a little hot when you get bothered, that's not exactly unique." Enynn said with a gesture to herself. "And it seems like you have found a guy who can scratch your itch. I'm not seeing the problem. It's not like many viruses or bacteria can function above 200 degrees celsius or so, not that I think Flaming Wreckage has any."

"Of course he doesn't." I said, perhaps unnecessarily.

I was about to explain exactly what the problem was, and further embarrass myself, when I saw the waiter approaching with the check. "Thanks." I said to the waiter as I gave the check a brief once over and dropped enough cash on the table to cover the meal and tip. I turned back to Enynn "We aren't having this conversation here. I can explain things better at the apartment."

Enynn just smiled and nodded. I'm not sure if she was more amused by my reactions or the thought of me with Chris.


The train ride back to my apartment wasn't as bad as it could have been. Enynn spent most of the time digging for details about what Chris is like. Her command of the double (and occasional triple) entendre was impressive. I would have been highly amused if I wasn't the one being questioned. I managed to weather the storm of questions by answering with in as few syllables as possible.

When we finally arrived at my humble abode Enynn had given up on getting a detailed description of Chris's "abilities". I turned on the lights, locked the door, took my shoes off, and lead the way into the kitchen. I was grateful we didn't go far enough down the hallway for her to see the sections of scorched wall in any detail. Enynn crossed her arms, leaned against the kitchen counter, and raised an eyebrow. The expression on her face making it clear that an explanation for my continued delaying tactics would be appreciated.

I stalled for another few seconds, depositing my bag on the counter and getting both of us a beer. Before I finally said "I don't want kids."

Enynn sipped at the beer and said nothing, waiting for me to elaborate.

"I don't want kids." I repeated, and then continued. "And condoms just kinda melt. And my body thinks the hormonal changes from the pill is damage to be fixed. And everything I've been able to dig up magically is about increasing the odds of conception." I took a sip of my beer and then corrected "Ok, not everything. But there is no way I'm using watered down curses on myself."

"So your just worried about conception?" Enynn asked.

"Yup." I said. "The heat makes normal STDs, not that either of us have one, a non-issue. And I haven't heard of anything magical I need to worry about."

"And abstinence won't work" Enynn said, more of a statement than a question.

I just snorted and took a swig of my beer.

"Rhythm method?" Her voice was skeptical even as she asked the question.

"If I was calm and level headed that might work." I said "But when was the last time you were calm and level headed two seconds before orgasm?"

Enynn gave a short laugh. "If you're calm and level headed, you're doing it wrong."

"What about a thicker plastic? Or something besides plastic?" She asked after a few seconds of thoughtful silence.

I looked at my beer for as I tried not to blush. "Thicker plastic just takes longer to melt, and it smells worse." My attempts not to blush failed as I continued "The only things that might work are thick leather or metal, everything else I've… experimented with went up in smoke. Literally in some cases."

"Sheepskin condoms never were a big hit." Enynn said, then laughed. "And despite what guys may say, I don't think they want literal brass balls."

"You see my dilemma." I said, getting a little depressed.

"Diaphragms?" Enynn said after a minute.

"Those melt too." I grimaced "and getting all the melted plastic bits out is a pain."

Enynn mirrored my frown for a second, then asked "What about one made out of leather?"

I opened my mouth to say something, then stopped. That could work! "Genius!" I said as I left the rest of my beer on the counter and started to drag Enynn towards the living room.

Enynn looked a little surprised, but followed. "Well I didn't think you swung this way either, and it wasn't what I planned for the night, but ok." She said with smile.

I had dragged us halfway into the living room before her words registered. "That's not what I need you for!" I protested, punching her lightly on the shoulder. "I need to study how the runes fail, and I can't do that nearly as well if I'm also the one providing the heat."

"Tease." Enynn said with a pout, but her tone was light enough that I knew she wasn't really mad.

I let go of Enynn and went to fetch the toolbox from where it sat in the corner, next to the still simmering trash can. Enynn sat down in one of the chairs as I carefully wheeled the toolbox over. It came up to my hip and weighed half of me easy, so it wasn't something I wanted to roll over a foot.

"Sure you have everything you need in there?" Enynn joked. "It would be a shame if you couldn't fit all your tools into your box."

"Har-de-har-har." I said as I started to dig through it and pull various things out. A thick ceramic baseplate, roughly the size of a cutting board came out first. Followed in short order by a few scraps of leather, a pair of heavy shears, and a variety of metallic felt tip pens. A few more moments of digging produced two pair of heavy goggles, one of which I passed to Enynn.

Enynn took the goggles, and then glanced down at the camisole she was was wearing. "I'm not going to end up with holes in my clothes am I?"

"I hope not, it's been a while since I've had something blow up in my face. I can get you a welding smock if you want." I said as I sat down cross legged on one side of the coffee table and began to set things up.

Enynn glanced at the table top and the arm of the chair she was sitting in. Both surfaces had a scattering of small burn marks. "Don't bother" She said, and stripped. "Unless you need me to wear it?" she teased as she sat down on the floor across the table.

"No" I said quickly, grateful that the coffee table hid everything below the waist. I focused on cutting templates out of the leather scraps.

Enynn glanced at the size I was making the diaphragms, roughly six inches across, and raised an eyebrow. "And I thought that only guys exaggerated their size. If you're that big around any guy will have adequacy issues."

I gaped at her for a second, and before my brain could come up with a response she tacked on "Well that or I really need to borrow Flaming Wreckage."

I sputtered for a few seconds before I managed to get out "Experiments… larger… I'm not… arg!" I gave up and rested my head on my arms, hiding my now red face.

The sounds of Enynn struggling to keep in laughter caused me to look up. Apparently the sight of me flabbergasted and blushing was too much, she laughed loudly for a few seconds and then fell onto her side giving little wheezy hiccups. I tried not to be distracted by what the laughter did to her chest.

I took several deep breaths to calm myself and said "If you are quite finished. These are double to triple the size needed so that I can quickly draw the needed runes. The final product will be done in metal wire, which is much thiner than the felt pens." I tried not to frown as Enynn got her breathing under control and heaved herself vertical again.

"Sorry sorry." She said, and she actually managed to look it too. "It's just that you are normally much better with the banter." She paused and then added "This pregnancy thing really bother you that much?"

"No. Yes. Maybe." I sighed "I don't know. This is the first relationship that might actually work for me here. And I like Wreck, and I want it to work, and the sex is great. But I don't know if I can bring myself to have kids. One of these days the eggheads in portal corps are going to finally track down where I came from and I might have to go back to help with the war. If I'm still with Wreck when that happens, well he's an adult and he can decide for himself. But I don't think I could do that if I had a kid. I couldn't leave a kid without their mom, and I certainly couldn't bring them with me."

I studied my hands a bit more. "So if I had a child, I would be giving up on going home. I would be admitting that my world is lost forever, or that there isn't anyone left to go back to." I sniffed a bit rubbed at my eyes, making sure the tears there didn't fall. "Sorry, that was more than you asked for."

"It's ok." Enynn said, her voice softer, more subdued. Then she gripped one of my hands across the table in a silent show of support. "It's exactly what I asked for."

We stayed like that for a few seconds until I got my breathing back under control. I looked up to see Enynn giving me a small, more serious smile.

"All right, serious mojo time. What do you need me to do?" She asked.

I nodded and answered "I'll draw a set of runes on the leather. I need you to heat it slowly to about 700 degrees, preferably over the heat shield." I tapped the ceramic slab "Because setting the table on fire is bad.

"At some point the runes will fail. I will be studying exactly how they fail so the next attempt will last longer. We repeat this until we find a set of runes that works, we run out of materials, or we get too tired to safely do the experiment. Any questions?"

Enynn actually looked serious for the first time this evening. "Nope."

"Ok" I said, picking up the first leather template and covering one side with runes in swift sure strokes.


Six beers, four burned scraps of leather, and more runes than I cared to remember later, we had success.

"Yes!" I shouted throwing my hands up in the air and collapsing back against the chair I was sitting in front of.

Enynn let the fire in her hands die and dropped the singed rounded triangle of leather onto the ceramic plate. She arched her back and I heard several pops. I kept my eyes firmly on the ceiling. One of these days I'm going to have to setup an actual worktable with proper ergonomics.

"Crap." Enynn said after a few seconds.

"What?" I asked, not moving from my reclined position.

"Some of the runes are turning black." She answered morosely.

I groaned and pulled myself upright again to look at the damage. Sure enough several of the runes had little black lines worming along their surface. I took off my goggles and poked at them with a finger, making sure that the magic I had willed into the runes was still intact. The black lines smeared away leaving tacky silver paint beneath. "We're still good." I said with a smile. "That's just impurities in the paint settling on top."

"Yay." Enynn said with less than the normal amount of enthusiasm as she pulled off her goggles.

Between the chair and the table I managed to lever myself upright and stand semi-vertical. My legs complained about this sudden demand with pins and needles. The movement also peeled my shirt free from my back, where it had been stuck with dried sweat. I reached over the table and offered a hand to Enynn. "Come on, get up. we both need a shower and you get first dibs."

"Thanks." Enynn said as I pulled her up.

I was quickly reminded about her less than dressed state, but I was too worn out to do much besides blink. "Take a left down the hallway, another left at the end. Bathroom is through my bedroom. Clean towels should be on the door." Enynn nodded and walked a slightly crooked path to the door.

I started the cleanup process. Empty beer bottles went in the recycling bin. Burned leather and other carbonized substances went in the trash. Ceramic slab, tools, and unused leather went back in toolbox. The successful leather prototype went on top of the toolbox, which was dragged back to it's corner. I'd do a final copy tomorrow. I glanced at my simmering trash can. There was no way I was getting to that tonight, and it had stewed in there for long enough. I turned off the hotplate and stuck the lid on the can. I'd finish that project later.

I didn't have the energy to finish the bedding problem tonight. But knew I should at least write down a few ideas that could be adapted from tonights experiment while they were fresh in my head. A few minutes of fruitless searching through my milkcrate of notebooks later, I remembered the one labeled "sheets" was in my bag, in the kitchen. I dragged myself back to the kitchen to acquire it when I noticed the clock on the microwave. There was no way it was only 10pm. I felt far too tired for it to be anything earlier than midnight.

But standing around staring at clocks wasn't going to solve anything, so I grabbed my bag and stumbled back to the living room. Writing down as many of the nebulous thoughts and ideas as I could force into logical sentences I managed to fill three whole pages. How much of that I would understand in the morning was an entirely different question, and one I couldn't quite bring myself to care about right now.

I was staring at next blank page, trying to nail down the nagging feeling I was forgetting something, when Enynn reappeared. The towel she wore around her chest barely reached her hips, and her still damp skin glistened a bit. I ignored the little nagging voice in the back of my head that said 'see, this is exactly why local-you has Terr and Rhea'. I ignored it because it had been made crystal clear to me how fragile local-me thought her relationship was, and what would happen to me if I endangered it. I didn't need that kind of stress in my own relationship. Not when I had just gotten it started.

Further ruminations on love polygons were interrupted when Enynn waved a hand in front of my face. "Hey you still awake in there?"

I blinked up at her and noticed that she had gotten dressed when I wasn't paying attention. That didn't make me disappointed, really. "Huh? Ya. I'm awake." I said, closing the notebook and getting up. "Sorry, more tired than I thought."

"Thanks for dinner and the shower, but it looks like I should go. You're falling asleep on your feet."

I couldn't really disagree. So I followed her to the door, opened it, and mumbled some semi-intelligible thanks for her help.

Enynn said something about expecting testing results I didn't quite catch and was out the door. I closed the door and locked the door with a negligent brush of my fingers, and stumbled off to bed. A shower could wait until I remained conscious long enough to finish it.


-Terry
-----
"so listen up boy, or pornography starring your mother will be the second worst thing to happen to you today"
TF2: Spy
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