Spreadsheets? People have a hard time with spreadsheets? Have they never taken a note in their life? What about using a calculator. So little thought is needed. Linking cells properly can be rather tedious if there are multiple factors that affect something at different levels, but you can literally double-check your work!

Databases are different. Not as clear, but easily more searchable if you link the information properly. Not that anyone would bother if they can’t do a simple spreadsheet.

Elastic Memories works through the night collating data from her last few gate runs. For her own personal edification. She’s heard that she can sell her information for a tidy sum, but why should others get to benefit from her hard work? How does that help her profit? What’s stopping them from gathering the information and cross-checking times, moon-phases, pool sizes and colors, to find their own conclusions?

A final check to make sure she’s got the data filed correctly, times and dates cross-checked with her payouts and the calendar, receipts and notes her primary source of information considering how poorly memories retain their form, and then she can begin to make her predictions.

Her arms tingle, an indication that she’s ready to produce. Focusing on the petals framing her form, a natural shoulder-baring fringe, and a fan around her face, she takes a deep breath, gathering her essence. She holds her hand out, palm up, and breathes out, a blood red blossom spinning as it blooms into existence. One more flower to turn in for a fair payment. Not as profitable as a run through the gates, but still a source of income if she can’t go to the gates.

She snorts as she remembers the newest member their little busy body had found. So far the new member had actually attempted to take care of themselves. She’s not quite sure how they hadn’t managed to make it into the city before going to the Life Spring, what she’s also heard called the World Pool. Most people run into the city, get intercepted by a guide, and then try to rank up enough to attempt the pools. Or they’re put off from the pools by the freeloaders and beggars that line the path.

Elastic Memories is tempted to clear the path, a task that is usually rewarded as a form of community service. Hmm. If there are a few spirits capable of dropping scales or petals, even better. Mind made up on taking a quick break, she heads out to pummel the greedy along the path to the largest spring. She’s not going to go through the pool, she just needs a bit of exercise. And with a fresh blossom to power her abilities, she’s also got some space in her internal tank.

“Hmph!”

Elastic Memories marches down from her apartment, a small affair that she’s sure her more laid back companions would cram full with friends and people they just met on the street. She’s got the space the way she wants it, and, as a bloomer instead of a shedder, she’s more than capable of maintaining the space. She’s not sure why flowers are valued more highly than scales, but it has worked in her favor. She doesn’t have extensive supporting evidence, but she’s sure it’s because it’s easier to see flower freshness versus verifying whether a scale is still viable as a component.

As she heads to the city exit she makes a mental note to learn more about imbuing her essence into items. Scales can be forged, or so she’s heard, but items imbued with flowers are quite lovely to behold. Maybe she should try trading for a few scales once she’s learned how to better evaluate their value.

“Bloomer!”

Elastic Memories glares down her nose at a low-leveled shedder. She knows that he’s warning the more aggressive beggars that there’s someone either wealthy or capable coming down the path. She wonders if they remember her. She’s filled out quite a bit since the last time she’d come to clear the path.

“Hello, lord,” the shedder chuckles nervously, spreading its hands out and lowering its head before straightening up with its hands clasped. Hardly a respectful bow. “If you’d be so kind as to help a weak but willing spirit down on their luck? I just need a few bits for a meal so that I can recover my strength...?”

“Begone.”

Elastic Memories’ blood red petals glow, her white eyes shining with their inner light before her hand starts glowing. The shedder isn’t ignorant. It knows the difference between sharing essence and arming an attack, but it’s too slow in gathering its own essence.

“Tranquil Dream.”

The red glow emanating from Elastic Memories drifts over in a cloud of lights, encompassing the lightly scaled creature before dissipating. The creature, realizing that it didn’t have time to charge a counter, hops back before becoming listless. It plops down, muscles limp, and all thought drained from its movements.

Staring up slack-jawed, eyes slowly trailing after illusions only it can see, it only notices Elastic Memories as her body starts glowing. The longer it sits in its dream, the more essence her spell drains. She watches as a small flower, one of her Poppies, grows out of its head. It sprouts, buds, and, when it finally blooms, she gathers the blossom, placing it in her hair where it spreads roots.

With a quick feel of her blooms she wonders if the exposed roots will resemble hair if she gets enough flowers. She dances off to the side, spinning as a trio of dusty bubbles pop at her previous location. As she does a ring of petals sprout around her hips, forming a short skirt. She breathes in satisfaction. Another spirit consumed.

Harvesting a trio of flowers she quick casts her Tranquil Dream, burning the flowers instead of gathering the essence, and swamping her attackers. There’s one more heavily scaled shedder, its back coated with brittle scales and its hide rubbery, and another soft bodied shedder. Scoffing that shedders seem to predominantly seek the easy route, she sends two spells at the more developed spirit.

The lesser shedder drops quickly, sprouting two flowers instead of one before dissipating to be re-condensed if it had enough Will. The more developed shedder manages to stare at Elastic Memories, eyes wide and hopeless, apparently understanding the implications. It’s spell, a combination of earth and air, cloudy for now, would surely have become purer and more powerful if it hadn’t gone for quantity over quality. She hadn’t just throne her attack out on a whim, she’d been cultivating her abilities for months after careful practice and observation. For the shedder to think they were on the same level was insulting.

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Or maybe not. The better developed shedder sprouts poppies all over its form, a bountiful harvest, slowly collapsing as its nightmarish reality turns into a blissful dream. A quick harvest of the blossoms of the lesser to replenish her stores, she keeps her eyes open for any more attacks. If she’d been a novice attempting to clear the path for the first time that stronger shedder might have shredded her. She won’t be fooled by these ambitionless fools.

When the field of poppies is ready to harvest she doesn’t get a chance to gather them. They dissolve on their own, the area surrounding her taking on a red hue and the air filling with a heady perfume that leaves even her feeling intoxicated. By the time she wakes from a blissful daze there’s a red tinge to the air.

Her skirt, now a knee-length, pleated affair, contrasts against her glossy, ebony skin. There’s a ring of poppies around one of her wrists. She recognizes these as inherently possessing the Tranquil Dream spell. When she goes to touch her head while looking down at the fringe of petals that normally adorns her around her shoulders, she sees that she possesses two very large shoulder petals that fold and overlap in the front to form a chic, off-shoulder simulated top that is modest and stylish.

A casual flick of her wrist to release Tranquil Dreams at targets who believer her too enamored with her transformation, and she reaches up to feel for the petals that had once framed her face. They’re gone, but in their place she has a lovely sweeping simulation of hair composed of poppy stems as the flowers themselves dangle around her shoulders. To say she believed she was more than adequately equipped to handle clearing the path would be an understatement.

But she’s not an idiot. With a laugh of relief she turns and heads back to the walled city. She needs time to properly assess her capabilities. True, she might be able to clear out the path, but she’s more than familiar with sudden growth sickness, and refuses to fall for the illusory burst of energy gained from her latest transformation. If it is in fact just an indication of her new stamina levels, then let her turn that energy towards something productive like information gathering.

Elastic Memories languidly runs her fingers over her arms, reveling in the feel of her smooth skin. Before she’d been a simulacrum of braided roots and stems enclosed by leaves. Now? Now she was glorious! Gone is the mottled green from the various fibers, replaced with a smooth, unblemished darkness that made her deep red shine brightly. If she was prone to arrogance she might even consider herself one of the more beautiful of the illusion casters with her simple elegance. Not that she’d ever fall for such a trap. There is strength and power in the beauty of illusions, but they remain merely illusions.

“Looking good.”

“Hmm?”

Elastic Memories is beyond grateful that she had the foresight to head back to town. She feels ill. Not drunk, per se, but she’s definitely in no shape to fight. Unless this isn’t a result of her transformation, but some subtle prod from Merging Reds. She frowns thoughtfully as she takes in his fiery countenance. Like her he’d become flora, a fighter to her spell-caster, his reds and oranges a warm compliment to her own coloration. Unlike her, he opted not for the long game, but the quick con. She may be ill, but she knows well to take whatever he offers with a healthy dose of skepticism.

Merging Reds, for his part, notices Elastic Memories suffering from growth sickness. Usually she’s hyper-focused and dismissive, but now she seems rather shaky and elated. She’s clearly attained another rank, and she looks like she’s opted for bloom production over spell power, but he doubts she’s lacking in that regard. He’d opted for illusion power, his blossoms few and far between not generating enough revenue to make up for their low count, but he’s more than capable of running gates and Springs if he so desires.

Where Elastic Memories is a poppy, all sweet bliss, he’s a bit more straight-forward. Unless his target has an exceptionally strong constitution, his toxic blooms will physically disable. Not to mention they have the added potential to humiliate opponents. Hard to fight when you’re blasting from both ends. Hard to fight back when avoiding his touch which only amplifies the debilitating effects.

“Have you heard about the weird quest some idiot put up on the board?”

Elastic Memories stops moving and concentrates on Merging Reds. Is he the reason she’s ill? She knows he can tell she’s not well, and understands that he’s willing to take advantage of it. What better revenge than to recover and steal whatever nonsense he’s trying to trick her into getting for him? Because he is trying to trick her into doing something for him. She recognizes the false camaraderie. When he chuckles and raises his hands in defeat she knows she hasn’t won, but she does need to work on hiding her expressions better.

“There’s some open quest about helping find some cultivator food. Looks like it was written by a child. How’d you like to get paid to point to an ice box and make a small fortune?” he smirks knowingly and she wants to punch him in the face.

What kind of idiot thinks a food quest will be that simple? Clearly the requestor is looking for something a bit harder to come by than a simple snack if they put in a bloody request. The things take essence to make. Who’d waste that much essence on something as simple as a piece of cake? No, this sounds more like a pet request. If he thinks she’s shaky enough to fall for his simple trap, he’s got another thing coming. The real question is would she be able to contain his essence? She did cast quite a few spells...

“Judging from your expression, I’ll say that you’re interested,” Merging Reds says as Elastic Memories’ face becomes cold and calculating. “Come on. Just take a look. No one says you have to agree to it now.”

Elastic Memories takes a step back, offering a shaky bow and gesturing for Merging Reds to lead the way when he tries to “help” her by reaching for her arm. He shrugs, tossing her a light-hearted grin before walking to the nearest bulletin board. Another red flag for Elastic Memories. If it’s on the low boards near the entrance it’s more likely to be a trick or a prank. Although she could earn merit by filing a report...

“There it is,” Merging Reds gestures broadly to the board, stepping back.

Now she’s over it. Elastic Memories is done humoring him. If he’d wanted her assistance he could at least pretend to be a bit more helpful instead of just trying to create openings to steal her hard won essence. It was a mistake to listen to him. She knew she needed to head directly home and fully recover, but no... Why did she stop?

Her eyes slowly drift to the board, keeping Merging Reds in her sight and her spell band ready. There’s the usual Gossip Quest, local, a fetch quest, also local, and several other torn fliers missing tabs. But nothing --. She focuses as she notices one flier that’s almost completely empty.

“‘Feeding. Help me’,” she murmurs. It looks like the flier wasn’t finished. “There’s no start, no end, no requestor, no payment. It’s not local --. Tch! This is as believeable as you being willing to accept a job with no benefits!”

“Just look at it,” Merging Reds frowns in annoyance.

He reaches for the flier with one hand, Elastic Memories cursing herself for a fool as she feels his other hand close around her wrist. She lets fly with her spells, knowing there will be an inquiry, but understanding that whatever the trap may be, he’s springing it now.

“Stop!” she shouts, hoping to get someone’s attention, to get the record to show that she did cry for help before unleashing hell on the floral.

“Relax,” he glares at her until the flier bursts into flame, a true sign that it’s been accepted and completed. “Well, we missed it --.”

Party Completed

“Wait, I didn’t --,” Merging Reds attempts to pull away from the fiery gateway that rapidly spins open.

“Bastard!” Elastic Memories shouts before they’re both dragged in.