Lorelei's new Skill put quite a dent in the group's intended progress towards their cathedral destination.
For starters, the first ability that
"For fuck's sake!" Lorelei exclaimed, adding - after a moment of fighting and losing an internal battle - "Sugar."
The ability she had 'stolen' from Steffan was added to her Skill roster, although it had a red, flashing box around it, with the countdown from fifteen minutes showing in its corner. "Guide, this is stupid. I steal an ability from someone within range once an hour, right? But then I only get access to it for fifteen minutes - and even then, there is a significant chance it will miscast when I use it. How is this going to be remotely useful? You're making me even more of a liability to be around than I was before!"
***Help Message***
Not for me to comment, of course, but it doesn't sound to me like someone is making much effort to channel their inner Anna Paquin . . .
Lorelei bit her lip and repeated the above in her best approximation of a Southern accent. For good measure, she threw in a liberal number of 'Sugars' too.
***Help Message***
Hmmm. That wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be. Quite racist, actually. Tell you what, let's knock the accent thing on the head. I'll edit the text for the Skill now. How about this? No accent, the "Sugars" stay, but you must dye your hair red and put a white streak through it for the Skill to work. Sound fair?
"Guide, the fucking ability doesn't work anyway! I've stolen Steffan's control of his Zombies, but it's a passive Skill. So, when my fifteen minutes of use runs out, they're just going to stop moving anyway . . ."
The prompt 'Sugar . . .' ticker-taped across her vision, interrupting her.
"-Sugar," she added, hating herself. "And I'm not even sure what the opposite effect of
***Help Message ***
All of that sounds a lot like you trying to make your problems into my problems, ma cher. Do you think you're the only person on this little planet with abilities they have not learned how to control yet?
"No. But it feels like I'm the only person who's getting individually fucked over in every interaction!"
***Help Message***
Oh, really! Tell me more, Little Miss I've-Somehow-Soloed-a-Kobold-Champion-Survived-Certain-Death-in-an-Alley-Wiped-a-Group-Of-Level-10-Psychopaths-and-Tanked-a-Level-40-Urban-Shadow-Strike-to-the-Heart. How exactly am I doing you dirty in all this?
Lorelei made to answer and then paused.
When the Guide put it like that, she had managed to come out through the other side of some pretty gnarly situations. On the flip side, she kind of thought that the System had been putting her in those situations in the first place. Swings and roundabouts, she guessed.
But she couldn't forget the sight of all her dead ex-colleagues at Glyde and Glyde. Nor of the space in the group's formation that two Mages whose names she still could not recall used to fill. The last two days could have gone an awful lot worse. And it was Skills she initially thought were useless that had got her this far.
"Okay, Sugar. Maybe I'm being a touch precious about all this. In the spirit of reconciliation, do you have any advice for me on how to maximise the impact of this passive ability?"
***Help Message***
Well, first of all, I'd find some fucking hair-dye
*
It was Monica that came through on the beauty product front. Whereas the rest of the group had filled their inventory with food, drink, potions and weapons, it seemed the woman in the nurse's uniform had gone big on the cosmetics.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Deciding it was probably safest to let the timer on
This wasn't an unanimously popular decision. Still defiantly bare-chested, Hild argued that they should explore what 'active range of the Skill' actually meant. Well, what she actually said was that Lorelei should "fuck off until she could fuck off no more," but it was understood that this was what she was getting at.
"You've got the same quest as the rest of us, Hild. We accompany Lorelei to Lichfield Cathedral, or we die." Kris's voice was reasonable, but no one could miss the underlying tone. "That means we need to stay partied up with her until we get there. Anyway, aren't tanks supposed to protect the rest of us? How about you stop arguing for a course of action that will lead to our immediate deaths?"
Without much more arguing, therefore, they left Steffan's Zombies lying in the street - "I mean, what's the worst that can happen to them? They're already dead!" Michael had said, quite reasonably - and returned to what was starting to feel like 'home'. Although it said quite a lot about their experiences of the last day or so that a half-demolished pub was a remotely comforting venue to wait out an hour.
Lorelei and Monica had made their way into the Ladies, which oddly still appeared to have running water. Fortuna's Herald stared at the box of hair dye Monica had produced from her inventory as if it might explode, her usual blonde locks shimmering under the harsh bathroom light.
"You’re sure this isn't going to be a complete disaster?"
Ever the enthusiastic enabler, Monica grinned and shook the box with dramatic flair. "Absolutely! It’s just hair dye, not a blood oath. Besides, red is the new black this season."
Lorelei sighed, resigning herself to her fate. No one would ever have described her as vain, but being blonde, blue-eyed and icily professional was a significant part of her personality. Well, what her personality used to be. She wasn't sure what she was in this post-integration world— LARPing an X-Men character, apparently. "Fine. Just promise me you won’t turn me into a walking disaster."
With the sink converted into a makeshift salon, Monica donned the plastic gloves with the seriousness of a surgeon. "Alright, sit still. This might smell a bit weird."
As Monica applied the dye, Lorelei wrinkled her nose. "Weird? It smells like a chemical warfare experiment."
Monica laughed, smearing the dye with a practised hand. "Beauty is pain, darling. In this case, beauty is slightly pungent."
Minutes ticked by, punctuated by Monica’s exaggerated commentary on the art of hair dyeing and Lorelei’s increasingly concerned expression. "Are you sure you know what you’re doing?" Lorelei asked for the umpteenth time.
"Relax," Monica replied. "If I can handle a flat tyre, handsy clients and my music fading out while I'm halfway through a routine, I can definitely handle a little hair dye."
Lorelei added that context to what she knew about Monica - not least her use of a stripper pole enhanced
Monica laughed. "What on earth made you think that?
Lorelei glanced significantly at the nurse's uniform the woman was wearing. Monica laughed again. "Fuck no. It's just a costume. Is that what people think? That I'm a nurse!"
"Well, you do seem to be a Healer, too. So, it's not that unlikely, is it?"
"I'm a what-now?"
"A Healer. You picked the Healer Class. So, you can cast healing spells? Like Kris does?"
Monica cocked her head. "I don't know anything about that. I was just on my way to a stag-do when . . . when it all happened. This is just what I had on at the time."
"Okay, so you're not a nurse. But what Class did you pick?"
Monica gave a little shrug. "I don't know what you mean; I didn't get any sort of choice. One moment, I was just me; the next, there was all this writing, and then people were screaming at me to heal them! To be honest, I've barely had a moment to think since: you're the first person I've properly chatted with since it all happened. Everyone else just seems to want to stare."
Lorelei pursed her lips. Her first impression of Monica was that she was nothing more than a brain-dead Bimbo. But, even in just this short interaction, she'd learned that was very much not the case. And the woman had saved her life, after all. "Why don't you have a look now?" she prompted, "If you're not actually a Healer, it would be good to know what Skills you do have."
There was a pause as Monica's eyes unfocused, clearly reading the text around her Class. Then, with a frown, she said. "I don't understand. I thought you said I was a Healer?"
"That's what we all believe, I think."
"So, what's a Chameleon Courtesan?"
*
If Lorelei had thought her own Class was broken, and that the System was personally messing with her, she was willing to agree that Monica was in the same boat. According to her Guide, Monica's Class was "a master of disguise and adaptation, with a wardrobe as varied as the situations she encounters. Each outfit she dons imbues the Chameleon Courtesan with unique abilities, allowing her to transition from one role to another seamlessly. Her base appearance is naked as the day is long, and she benefits from
"So, what you're saying is that because she is wearing a skimpy nurse's costume, she has access to healing spells?"
***Help Message***
You've got it in one, squishmallow. Girlfriend is basically a walking Mimic.
"And
***Help Message with added heavy breathing***
Just something for the dads.
Closing her chat with a sigh, Lorelei watched the woman in the mirror behind her, happily rinsing the dye out of her hair. From her understanding of such things, Monica had the potential to be phenomenally powerful. If they could get hold of various gear and an array of costumes, she could fill pretty much any role the group needed. And if she was comfortable in wearing very little indeed - and Monica apparently had no issue with having it all on show - she would be pretty tanky, too.
The Courtesan tapped Lorelei on the shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts. "I think we're done! Voilà! Red hair, just as the box promised. I wasn't sure about the thick white stripe in the middle, but it actually kinda works."
Lorelei looked in the mirror, tentatively touching her now-red hair with the white line through it. "Well, I don't look like a skunk, so that’s a relief."
"See?" Monica said, pulling off the gloves with a flourish. "It's a whole new you!"
Lorelei chuckled. "Or a version of someone else, anyway. I guess I owe you one. Next time, though, let's skip the chemical warfare, okay?"
Monica winked. "Deal. But admit it, you kind of love it."
Lorelei smiled, finally embracing the change. "Yeah, I kind of do."
And then the hour ran out. And, with a sense of crushing inevitability, Lorelei's Skill stole
***Help Message***
Let's see a little skin, ma cher.