Video;
[ The video begins with a dark-haired man centered in the middle of the frame. He’s got dark eyes, a precisely cut goatee, and hair that’s a little too styled to be naturally that neat. There isn’t a lot to see beyond his chin, he’s sitting too close to the camera, but what can be seen looks vaguely like a shirt of shiny red metal.
His brow knits almost immediately after the feed starts recording, his expression edging toward disbelief as his lips twist into a mild frown. ]
Look. I get it. In a time of crisis, rationing’s necessary to keep resources moving in the right direction. Perfectly understandable. You guys needed to save your turtle. What responsible citizen wouldn’t do their part for that noble cause?
[ There’s a slight hint f sarcasm creeping into his voice, as though he’s heard the whole turtle spiel already and not only hasn’t been impressed, but also doesn’t really buy it either. Not even after having spent half a day scouring the network for information about what’s really going on here before making this video. ]
But really? Twenty bucks?
[ The low, indistinct murmur of another voice can be heard, though what it’s saying and who it belongs to is anyone’s guess. Whatever it says, it’s enough to make the man roll his eyes. ]
Juulan. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. The point — [ Whether he’s talking to the camera or the unidentified voice is unclear. ] — is that it isn’t enough for a day, let alone the entire bogus adventure.
[ It isn’t so much the way he looks at the camera – his eyes have never left it – but the change of his tone, less querulous and more curious, that indicates that he’s talking to whoever’s on the other end of the console. ]
So really. Turtle propaganda aside. What’s a guy gotta do to get some decent money around here? Sell his organs? Hit the street corners? Scrub barnacles off the bottom of the turtle? What?
His brow knits almost immediately after the feed starts recording, his expression edging toward disbelief as his lips twist into a mild frown. ]
Look. I get it. In a time of crisis, rationing’s necessary to keep resources moving in the right direction. Perfectly understandable. You guys needed to save your turtle. What responsible citizen wouldn’t do their part for that noble cause?
[ There’s a slight hint f sarcasm creeping into his voice, as though he’s heard the whole turtle spiel already and not only hasn’t been impressed, but also doesn’t really buy it either. Not even after having spent half a day scouring the network for information about what’s really going on here before making this video. ]
But really? Twenty bucks?
[ The low, indistinct murmur of another voice can be heard, though what it’s saying and who it belongs to is anyone’s guess. Whatever it says, it’s enough to make the man roll his eyes. ]
Juulan. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. The point — [ Whether he’s talking to the camera or the unidentified voice is unclear. ] — is that it isn’t enough for a day, let alone the entire bogus adventure.
[ It isn’t so much the way he looks at the camera – his eyes have never left it – but the change of his tone, less querulous and more curious, that indicates that he’s talking to whoever’s on the other end of the console. ]
So really. Turtle propaganda aside. What’s a guy gotta do to get some decent money around here? Sell his organs? Hit the street corners? Scrub barnacles off the bottom of the turtle? What?
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It's fascinating to watch magic at work. He's only ever seen Loki do it, and then it required some sort of scepter, at least insofar as he knew. But this, this is apparently just words. He wants to ask about it, and maybe he will later. But for the moment, she's right. There's a race to fly. ]
That depends on whether you're using the magic to cheat or not. Which, for the record, you shouldn't.
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[Who is totally going to leave him in her magic dust, by the way.]
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[ Although maybe he could make a suit that has no other purpose but to fly... ]
Count of three?
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[A nod, and she braces herself for a real takeoff.]
Once around the Turtle, meeting right back here.
One...two...
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[ He waits for her to count down and when she hits two, he takes over. ]
Three!
[ And takes off, thrusters at just below supersonic. ]
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[She was nearly thrown back from the force of his thrusters, but recovered quickly enough. Giving herself a quick magical boost, she was right on his heels.]
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[But it was the first time she found herself falling behind. Which was completely unacceptable. So she called out a bit of a power boost, drawing more from her own energy, and gradually began to speed up.]
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He's watching her as closely as he's watching his path. Coming up on a turn, not willing to overshoot the turtle and end up out in the middle of the sea, he banks slightly into a curve that will eventually take them back toward where they started. ]
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[The turn was a little wider for her, not quite as ready to spin on a dime as he. But she made up for it by going up and over rather than just out, hoving far above the sea. The salty air hit her full-force, and she grinned a little as her body spun around, diving straight down to come back to a near neck-and neck with Tony.]
Come on, old man. That the best you can do?
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Middle-aged. That's not old. That's like decades away from old. Why? Can you go faster?
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Og retsaf!
[...in hindsight, maybe not the most elegant spell she'd ever cast. But it did the trick; within seconds, she was pulling out and ahead of Tony, just as the finishing line came within sight.]
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[ But there's an undercurrent of amusement in his voice as he says it and he doesn't kick it up to supersonic. This time, at least, he's content to come in last. Though he isn't all that far away when he does. ]
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[With that last cry over her shoulder, she pushed until they crossed the 'finish line', her ahead of him by a few inches. Grinning, she twirled once in the air before coming to a graceful land back on the rooftop. Hands on hips. Victorious.]
I'm impressed. That suit of yours really packs a punch.
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[ Heading back to the roof, beaten yet still in good spirits, Tony cuts the juice to his boots and drops down onto it beside her. He opens the faceplate of his helmet and grins. ]
So. Saying the words backwards? That's how it works?
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That's some ear you've got there, Mr. Stark.
You're right. Family style. My dad taught me.
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It doesn't work for just anyone, does it? It's in the blood, so to speak? Also, Tony. Anything else makes me sound like I'm ninety. And I know, old man, but not that old.
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[Mr. Complains About a Magic Girl Using Magic In a Race Meant to Show Off Her Magic. Oh, sorry. Tony.]
You can try it, if you like. Maybe you're a secret homo magi in shining armour.
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[ That's a joke. Probably. It depends on he feels on a given day. But he smiles and shrugs, and hey, what the hell. ]
Dnah ym ni regrubeseehc a gnidloh ma I.. [ A slight pause, like he's waiting for something to happen. ] Nope. No such luck. Oh well, back to my day job.
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Still, A for effort.
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[She might've been biased, but learning how to talk backwards still seemed easier to her.]
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[ He points to himself, then to her. ]
Magical linguist. Makes perfect sense.
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[The both of them.]
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[ Maybe in some bizarro world where he actually has some modesty. ]
Next time, we're making the race harder. FYI.
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