Rainy days, hair loss and full bellies

Northern Gates, Alexandria, midday

The weather is unpleasant, rain coming down in buckets from iron gray skies. In the fields just north of the gates, a set of pavilions and temporary stalls have been erected, as an airship slowly descends. Several citizens wait under awnings at the gates, as well as the city guard contingent. One half-elf, wrapped in a thick, heavy hooded cloak, is speaking to one of the guards.

"Well, the damage to the airstation isn't as bad as it seemed," Telamon says to the guard sergeant. "They've got a couple wizards from the college, an artificer, and a whole pack of dockworkers getting it cleared up, but with the weather, it may take till tomorrow before the airstation can take any landings."

The sergeant mops some water off his freckled face. "At least we can bring the ships down in the meadow just outside the walls, so they can unload their cargo and passengers. Well, you know what they say, mortals plan..."

Telamon snorts and nods. "And Coyote laughs!"

As the airship lands, and the crew and hired hands begin to move the cargo, the passengers begin to disembark. Among them is a small form, completely covered in a leather poncho, complete with hood. They stand out as they carry a crate larger than they are, setting it down in a sheltered area marked for storage of such cargo.

It is only when the small form walks over to Telamon, and her little green face looks up at him, blinking at the rain spattering in her face. "So what happened here?", she wonders of the Archmage.

Give the town guard credit. They work to interview the passengers and get them out of the weather as quickly as possible. Stevedores from the airstation help unload cargo. The whole operation is actually pretty efficient -- if wet from the continuous rain and the soggy turf.

When Murder approaches the archmage, Telamon raises his hand in greeting before offering it to shake. "Good to see you again, Murder," he says. Tel wipes a spritz of rain off his face, before gesturing for her to follow him under the awnings. "The storm rolled in pretty fast. There was an airship on approach, and a wind-gust shoved it into one of the airstation buildings. No one's hurt, but they're working on clearing debris and repairing damage. In the meantime, they're just bringing the airships down here to unload, near the gates."

The Goblin sniffs at Telamon's hand a moment, before shaking it. She grins and nods in reply, "It is good to see a friendly face." She looks around a bit, "Hopefully no one was hurt? I can imagine an airship hitting something would do a lot of damage."

Murder follows in the sorcerer's wake. Once under the awning, she pulls down her hood, showing off her long, scraggly hair, with a fresh fuzz covering the burnt half her head. "So what'd they call you in for?", she wonders of Telamon.

"Dumb luck. I was meeting a Mythwood diplomat, and he was on the flight. Once I'd gotten him settled and on his way, I decided to come down and see how the temporary station was working." He pushes back his hood, his face and hair damp from the rain. "Normally I don't object to storms, but this is a little excessive."

He pauses and peers at Murder's hair. "Fire problems?" he inquires delicately. "Seen that a time or two."

"Ah, seems like a poor ending to what should be a nice flight. Hopefully he wasn't too shaken. The airships are quite safe, I have heard." Murder looks out at the storm, and back to Telamon. "Is it perhaps unusual? Maybe not normal? Or just mother nature being an ass?"

Her cheeks colour slightly, and she looks away. "It's an old wound. Got burned back when I was helping expunge the black plague slimes from the sewer. Fire seemed to do the trick, but due to some... idiot mage... it went out of control. I'd gotten permission from the city to do such, and it was supposed to be a controlled burn. The ... idiot ... did not wish to evacuate either. So the priests had a crispy body to deal with."

Telamon shakes his head. "Just the usual. You know how it is. Spring showers for summer blooms." He runs a finger down his cheek. "I suppose I could complain to the temples of Dana and Gilead -- if I wanted to get laughed at." Tel smirks slightly.

"In any case, no, he's fine. He's seen worse. Like a lot of us." Telamon looks at Murder sympathetically. "A lot of people carry scars from that time, it seems. I know Verna has mentioned battling it as well. But no, I was asking more about the hair, not the burns. Have you tried growing it back?"

"At least you haven't the hubris to attempt to change the weather yourself.", she says idly. "Unlike some wizards I could name but won't. Not enough of your kind stop to think... not IF they can do such a thing, but if they SHOULD or should not do a thing." The Goblin runs a hand subconsciously over the fuzzy part of her head.

"I keep shaving it, it gets to this fuzzy stage and then stops growing. Probably permanently damaged." Murder rolls her shoulder in a shrug, the leather poncho moving up and down. "I'm sort of used to it." Her cheeks remain slightly rose coloured. "Never thought to get it fixed. Seemed like a proper penance."

Telamon fishes around under his cloak, before producing a flask, which he offers to Murder. "Tea?" he inquires. "But yes. A question I get asked a -lot- is 'why do you teach an ethics class?'. And that's because I've -seen- what happens to magic unfettered, driven by hubris and good intentions."

"Honestly, I don't know if I'd ever want to try and toy with the weather. Too many moving parts. Oh, there's spells to tweak it in a -very- small area, relatively speaking. But those are self-contained effects." He sighs. "And so I keep teaching. Hoping my students get the message and I, or someone like me, won't have to hunt them down."

He places a hand on Murder's shoulder, commiseratingly. "Some penances can be hard to bear. I'm not sure I agree that it's necessary, but if you don't want to grow it out, I won't press the issue."

Her head tilts slightly at the offer of tea, and she reaches out a hand. "Is it hot? I could certainly use a hot drink, it's quite chilly up there as you must know." She nods. "You teach it because someone has to. That's something I like about you." A broad grin spreads across her face. "And what is that saying? Pride goeth before the fall? It must be especially hard for wizards, such dizzying heights to fall from. Sometimes quite literally."

Her expression becomes self-conscious once more. "I honestly didn't think it could be fixed. Never thought to ask. The skin's a little gnarly there also." Her face turns upwards once more, and gone is the usually gruff exterior, her voice small. "You can fix it?"

"It is." Indeed, the flask is warm, and the contents inside redolent of honey and herbs as Telamon passes it to Murder. "Indeed. It's one thing to be proud, or confident, but pride... can lead you down a bad path." He makes a face. "There's a number of people in the Arcanist's Dungeon who could testify to that."

At her hesitant, self-conscious look, Telamon nods. "Maybe. It's old, and damaged, but I've spent a lot of time studying alchemy and healing. I can't say it'll be instant, or easy, but... the best things in life rarely come easy. It's up to you."

She makes a pleased sound and wraps both of her small hands around the flask, before opening it up and then offering it to the Archmage. "Should let you have the first sip, yes?"

A breath is let out, and she nods. "Don't I know it. Blood, sweat and tears. Too much of all three. But uhm... how much?" She pats at her chest a moment, and a dull jingle is heard. "I'd have to go somewhere dry to get to my coins."

Telamon shrugs lightly, and takes the flask back before drinking a small measure from it. "Ahh. Just the sort of thing for a miserable day, if you don't have mulled wine." He passes the flask back to Murder's hands, before continuing.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'd need to inspect your scalp, study the scarring there. This isn't going to be a 'magic' fix -- yes, I can do those, but I prefer to try simple solutions before exotic ones." His lips quirk up. "Besides, it'll give me something to research and a break from atrocious first-year essays on why you never mix the salts into the solution until the end."

Murder takes a lengthy sip before offering the flask back. "Thank you."

She lets out another breath. "I'm... willing to let you look at it without offering you harm." Her expression is an odd one, somewhere between puzzlement, curiosity and embarrassment. "I can shave it if you want to see the skin, or you can if that's what you need to do. The other half is undamaged, hence the long hair there.'

Telamon smiles. "You're welcome." He takes another sip from the flask, before his eyes move back to Murder. "Well, if we need to shave it, I can always help with getting the hair to grow back out again. We'll take a look at it -- hm. Where would you prefer to do this? I would presume you'd like some privacy -- I can arrange for a room at the temple of Eluna, or we could set something up at the Shining Chalice. Or perhaps you have something in mind?"

Her cheeks take on a dark, mottled colour, and she looks down at the ground. About where her feet would be, were it not for the leather poncho in the way. "Uh, well, my camp is a bit of an inconvenient distance away. Uhm. Perhaps the Chalice? I assume they have uhm private offices and such?"

Telamon nods serenely. "It can be arranged. We've done so before, for sorcerer auguries and the like. And there are a couple Chalice members who aren't as..." He pauses, then smiles slightly, "...flamboyant as I am. They like their privacy. So we'll meet at the Chalice then."

He reaches out to offer Murder a hand. "In the meantime, let's go find something to eat and drink. This dreadful weather can't endure forever, and it's better to wait it out by a warm fire, with a full belly." His eyes twinkle. "That's been my experience, anyways."

"Privacy is good sometimes.", she says softly, before she reaches for that flask again, and takes another sip of tea. "Pick your place. I'll buy. They just have to have something hot to drink, and hot to eat. A fire sounds nice too." There's a slight nod of agreement.

"Mine also. A full belly and a warm fire fixes a lot of ills."