Difference between revisions of "2019-10-20 - Beginner's luck."

There's a wizard in the bar. He's got a shot of reasonably decent (if peaty) scotch and a club sandwich in front of him, mostly indulging in the latter for right now.

"Cast sixteen spells, what do you get? Attacked by a feybeast and covered in sweat~."   Liyara sings a variation on a classic tune as she steps into the Usual this evening.  She's been experimenting with various magical rituals throughout Twisted since her arrival, and her results have been both encouraging and confusing.  The one thing she's decided is that the Usual Restaurant seems to provide the most reliable and stable results.  Why her rituals work better in here is still some mystery to her, but mysteries are for solving!   When she sees the trenchcoat-that-masquerades-as-a-man, she smiles brightly, her too-large incisors making it look mildly predatory.  This is, of course, in spite of her purely noble intentions. "My good fortune continues!" Getting attacked by a displacer beast was good fortune in her book, apparently.  Well, it takes all kinds.

John Constantine lifts a hand. "Good fortune?" the man asks, intrigued. He's generally not considered to be a lucky charm by most. Maybe some of his lovers.

"Indeed." Liyara matches Constantine's handwave and moves towards a nearby seat, making sure he doesn't mind the proximity before seating herself.  If he does, she'll keep her distance without making a big deal out of it.  Sometimes her presence is too overwhelming for some people, she's come to understand.   "I've managed to successfully open a brief portal to..." She pauses, considering her words carefully. Probably best not to mention the violent monster that came out. Or how wildly her calculations seemed to have failed. "Well, not my world, but some place similar." She tucks her tail around her seat and orders some jasmine tea from a nearby skutter before continuing.   "And when I came here to continue my experiments in a more stable location, I found you."   In her defense, she doesn't know John very well yet.

"Be careful with that. You never know what might come through said portal." He studies her. "Something with claws, my guess."

That causes Liyara's wings to droop just a little bit; found out? No, he's probably just experienced.  Noone could ever think that SHE would make a mistake like that.   Even if she did. "I'll take that under advisement." Her voice is just a hint clipped, but her smile doesn't falter.   "More importantly, I now know that this place has a Feywild.  Or something Feywild-adjacent, anyway." Right, normally people lead with a contextual explanation of what something like that is.  But hey, she's talking to a fellow magic user, right? Every magic user has to know about the Fey.

"Presumably," John says, thoughtfully. "I never was too keen on the place."

"It's fairly handy to jaunt through where I'm from, if you know the right rituals and protective enchantments." Presumably Liyara does, if she's bringing it up. "...But it only works *properly* here, in the Usual.  I tried it outside and it worked..." She pauses again. "...differently." It went not just to the wrong universe, but also the wrong location within that universe, and the wrong time period, too.  But it was still *a* Fey plane!   The dragon-lady crosses one leg over another as her tea comes in a little kettle, and she pours some into the accompanying porcelain cup before taking a sip. "...So I figure if I'm going to see so much variation outside the Usual, inside is best." Sure.  Why not?

John Constantine ahs. "Yeah, the Usual does seem to have some different...resonances." Ironically, John isn't the one who's worked it out.

Yeah, and you get a +6 to competence in here, too.

"That's an excellent way of putting it." Liyara sets down her cup of tea and offers John another smile. "I'm just working out the variables in my head, and then I'll probably..." She glances around. Her eyes settle on the karaoke area. "... Try up on stage.  If I'm going to make a spectacle of myself anyway." ... Does she even know what that area is used for?

John Constantine shakes his head. "I'd be more quiet about it. If something goes wrong and everyone's watching..."

"Then I'll win them over with my dazzling smile!" Liyara's grin practically sparkles when she says that, and her too-vivid green eyes are almost glowing. It's too dazzling.  Please stop.   "At any rate, while I can do a lot of the math in my head, practical arcane understanding often requires action!" ... Is that a saying where she's from? It's not very catchy.  Also, wait, math?

Oh, that's interesting. Where he comes from, it's more about words and pronunciation than math. "Be my guest, then." If she wants to make a fool of herself, let her. He downs his scotch.

Batman enters the Usual; a dark shape against the door. White eyes on a black silhouette. "Constantine."

"Oh, I intend to." Liyara's grin calms itself down to a smile. "But before I solve the big problems, I need to solve the little ones." Liyara glances toward the door, and whatever explanation she was going to give to John gets lost. "..." Tall, dark, and mysterious. Narrow eyes. Addresses John by his last name. Well, it wouldn't be the first shadow sorcerer she's seen.  "...Friend of yours?" She takes another sip of her tea, grappling with the decision to continue explaining anyway and be somewhat irritating, or just go and do the thing like trenchcoat-man 'suggested'.   Dilemma.

John Constantine turns towards the door. "You..." He tilts his head. "Almost certainly have the wrong Constantine." Whatever *that* means.

Batman says, "There are constants in every universe. One being Superman, the other being me, one of the others is John Constantine." he steps fully in. "Different deck, same card."

John Constantine laughs a bit. "You ain't around where I'm from. You went missing a couple of years ago. Vanished." The man snaps his fingers. "And seems there's plenty of universes where I don't exist." But yes, quite a few where he does. As long as he doesn't bump into himself...

After a few moments of struggling with her conflicting motivations, Liyara decides to let her fellow mage deal with the new entrant since they seem to know each other. And also because the new guy's voice doesn't seem to brook interruptions anyway. "If you'll excuse me then.  Time to be spectacular." Well, she'll be *some* kind of a spectacle, that much is certain.   The horned headmaster slips off of her seat and uncoils her tail from the stool she was resting on.  She glides over towards the stage, her tiny wings carrying her just aloft enough that her feet barely touch the ground.  Whatever she's going to do, it's probably going to look stupid from the outside.  Might be a good time to get popcorn.

Batman glances over as the Dragon lady takes the stage. Maybe it's karaoke night. He returns his focus on Constantine. "I'd be interested in hearing the story," he says matter of factly. "And being who you are...apparently in most unibverses, you have a unique perspective on the situation of interbleeding realities; which is what we have here."

"All I know is you just disappeared one day, without a trace. Dunno where you ended up." He shrugs. "Well, not you, but..." He doesnt seem intimidated by Batman...but is definitely keeping one eye on the dragon woman. Juuuust in case.

Magic rituals, by and large, are not known for being clean and simple. Symbology and sigil-etching alone are reputed for being exceptionally exacting practices that demand much of the user. As a result, many magic users that rely on arcane sigil tracing as part of their rituals can expect to spend several minutes getting the patterns exactly right.  And that's before introducing runic magic, meta-magic, spell specifics, and having to re-work all of those archane mechanisms to run off of nothing but pure fire.  So it would be reasonable to expect a fire-only caster like Liyara to spend hours setting up a single ritual unless it already involved fire.   It would be.   Contrary to any such expectation, Liyara takes almost no time to create a ritual circle with nothing but her finger and some heat.  When she crouches down, she looks like she's searing a circle into the stage, but the truth is, she's actually magically tracing the sigil in the air a millimeter *above* the floor.  It wouldn't do to be known for vandalism, after all.   It's only about six seconds, and then she stands up and dusts herself off.  She looks it over once, and seems satisfied. "Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could have your attention for just a moment, please!" Oh, she's going to make sure *everyone* sees her fail.  Brilliant.

Oh, this will be good. You should tell them that you're going to blow the place up.

Batman's eyes narrow slightly as he thinks. "Which Constantine are you? Zatanna? Swamp Thing? Legends? There's plenty of variables." Batman glances up as Liyara begins to do..something..speaking of Zatanna; some sort of magic show? Or summoning a demon horde? Hard to tell in this kind of place.

"Not Zatanna," John says. That he can be sure of. Legends *could* mean Sara, or it could mean something else.

"Now I'm certain most of you have seen a wide variety of things as patrons of this fine establishment." Liyara raises her voice, and something about her tone is quite engaging.  This is not her first public speaking occasion.  Or even her thousandth. "Tonight, I will be testing some mundane magic from my universe. I will not be showing you anything you've never seen before." Well then why is she getting their attention? "However!" Liyara's dragon tail drags back and forth over the stage for a moment.   "...There is a nonzero chance that everything in this room will explode."

This is why you're my favorite. Well, second favorite. Well, eighth. Well. This is why I like you.

  Unsurprisingly, this draws a loud and unhappy reaction from most of the patrons present, and some people are already asking for their check and getting ready to head out of the restaurant.  When people say the room might explode in here, they usually mean it.  What /might/ be surprising is just how many patrons merely shrug, glance at each other, and go about their dinner.  Talk about jaded.

Batman nods, he's a bit happy about that, yes. Always figured Zanna might go down a dark path with Constantine. Or maybe it's just his own missed opportunity talking. He glances up again at the words of warning from Liyara. If this fellow is John Constantine, magical shield. Shouldn't be an issue. "We'll have to compare notes. Find me in Gotham."

John Constantine is, indeed, muttering something distinctly spell-like under his breath. Hard to tell exactly *what* the spell is. But, well. The usual hasn't blown up in a while...

"If I thought the chance was anything close to high, I promise you I would not be performing this experiment." Liyara continues, her voice loud enough to carry over the grumpy sounds of the less-apathetic patrons. "But as remote as the possibility is, it would be unethical not to inform you all of the risk.  So if you have plans later tonight, or in fact, at any point in the future, it may be wise to vacate the Usual.  Thank you for your patience!"   ... The sheer, unmitigated arrogance and self-importance to think she has any right to disrupt everyone's evening is actually quite astonishing.  Let alone the gall to be willing to risk blowing up the Usual. Dragons. Go figure.

It doesn't really seem like Liyara is concerned, for what it's worth.  She says she doesn't think it's likely to happen, so that's probably why, but it's also possible that she just isn't that worried about explosions.  Someone could ask her what the odds actually are, of course.  But noone seems to.  The dragon waits patiently while people shuffle out of the restaurant.  At least she's not hurrying them along.  People have tabs to pay, conversations to finish, and all that.   She might be willing to blow up the Usual, but she wouldn't want to be *rude*...

Batman watches. He's also ready to act if he needs to. Performance artists. Hm.

Once all concerned parties have vacated, Liyara smiles at those who remain present. "And to the rest of you, I thank you for your faith and/or apathy!" And with that, she draws her dagger and pricks her index finger to draw some blood. However, the red liquid of life isn't what pours out of the wound, but rather some sort of liquid fire.  A single droplet forms on the finger, and tiny flames lick around it in a kind of hazy corona.  She... bleeds fire? Neat.   The dragon lets the fiery blood drift down her finger into the palm of her hand for a moment; she needs more than a single drop after all.  Converting a non-evocation spell to run on fire is horrendously inefficient.  Even for a cantrip-level ritual.   When she tilts her hand and pours the gathered liquid onto the sigil, the usual fills with an orange arcane glow as the sigil lights up.  The intensity grows, and after a moment the sigil's component circles start rotating counter to each other. Runic symbols spin into existence along the restaurant's walls.  The furniture as well, though the plates and utensils (and food) are curiously unaffected.  Perhaps they're not permanent enough fixtures.  But the chairs are!   A low hum fills the room, and a few patrons who were on the fence decide to take their leave, too. Some of the newly formed runic symbols multiply, and others fade in and out of view, but most of them start running down the walls as if falling.  Soon the Usual looks like it's running on an orange, magical equivalent of Matrix code.   "My apologies for the noise." She has a weird idea of what courtesy is, apparently.

Batman has noted that the bar in these places are indestructible. Noted as a good place to survive an explosion.

It's at this point that a brunette woman with silvery skin enters from the direction of the washroom.  Her step is slow and her attention is focused on anything but the theatrics in play.  Rather, she bears an armload of fuzziness in her arms, the ball of fur secured against her form and her padded bosom, while somewhat entranced and enamored by the charming figure she carries.   The bandit-masked and ring-tailed shorty so hauled along at the end of a potentially scandalous rendezvous seems drunken and sluggish and equally focused on the beauty he's caught.  This, however, suddenly changes due to the nature of the walls and the chairs, the bond between the two breaks, the woman peers over at the stage, then nopes right out and drops her loverboy onto the floor so that she can hastily retreat.   Rocket hits the floor with a thud, but seems more shocked at the exit than the state of the local appearances.  "Ow!  Oi, wha-  So we'll meet at your place, ven?" he calls out, dumbfounded, and only then notices the floor underneath him.  He hops up to his feet, nearly toppling over backwards due to his altered balance, and dances about a bit from foot to foot.  "What va flark is going on 'ere?!"

"This is all within expected parameters." Liyara's voice calls over the hum, and it sounds surprisingly re-assuring.  As it should; Liyara has spent many decades perfecting her ability to calm people down with her voice and mannerisms.  She seems the kind of person that gets people riled up in the first place, so persuasive speech is a complementary skillset.  When she sees Rocket so unceremoniously dumped on the floor, she calls out to him quickly. "Pardon me sir, but The Usual *might* be about to explode.  Please consider fleeing if you have any attachment to this mortal coil!" ... Sounds like a good time to pocket some booze, then?   The low hum starts to actually become a low rumble, causing plates, cups, and utensils to clatter a bit on the tables. Some of the patrons that stayed behind raise their voices, but Liyara speaks over them. "I'm dreadfully sorry; I would have cast this elsewhere if I could."   The runic symbols glow brighter, and the rumble gets louder, as Liyara waves off further concern. "Really, it's almost ove-"   *KRAKA-THOOM*   The thundrous sound of an explosion fills the restaurant, and a blinding flash goes along with it! All is lost!   But it's actually only the light and sound.  Everything is actually intact when the light dies down.  Except Liyara. Her normally straight red hair is frizzed out in every direction including straight up.  She looks more like a porcupine woman than a dragon lady now.  Her skin is slightly charred, and when she coughs, actual smoke comes out.  It's a scene straight from a cartoon, except actually happening, and her eyes look a little glassed over for a moment.   Then she blinks, and comes fully to her senses. She starts brushing her dress off, which works better than expected, and looks around.  Everything else seems normal.   Except for the glowing illusory map of Twisted Street that's now floating in the middle of the air, just above the bar.  That's probably new.

Wait, you were serious? How did you almost botch Planar Map? Fighter can cast Planar Map. Fighter.

Batman HAD raised his cape up to cover his partially exposed face. This just makes him look cooler when the fauxplosion occurs. "Nice." is his comment. "You sure a crowded restaurant is the best place for experimental magic?" he asks.

Rocket, on the other hand, is exceptionally easy to rile up when certain buttons are pushed; losing his date is one of them.  Still, the contradictory nature of the voice speaking leaves the angry yet mostly pacified (and completely confused) raccoon to just stand there staring.  His mouth is slightly agape and his eyes widen and-  Wide-eyed?   Noise and light follows.  Bright light, even.  The combination leaves the furry one wild-eyed, blinded, ears lain back and ringing, and tail completely frazzled.  He stumbles backwards from this new status and knocks over a chair in the process.  Does anybody even see or hear it happen?  He sure doesn't.  Nor the bumped table by the chair that upsets a teacup that was rattled close to the edge which upsets completely and tips over to pour cold green tea over his face.  He sputters as the delicate vessel crashes on the floor near his head.

"Of course not." Liyara responds to Batman with only a moment's hesitation, sticking a finger in her ear as if to rid herself of the ringing before hopping off the stage. Shouldn't she be blinded, too? As the ringing quiets, it becomes clear that a few people are clapping, and a few people are yelling. Several are pointing and laughing, and a rare few people are... already back to their dinner conversation. Tough crowd.   "It's just a beginner's planar mapping ritual I learned when I first joined the Academy." Liyara starts drifting towards the bar once more, pulling her finger out of her ear and furrowing her brow. "...But I have determined that the further one goes from the Usual Restaurant, the more unpredictable my homeworld's magic becomes.  I don't know the exact origin of this effect, so I couldn't guarantee that noone would die." She doesn't sound like she was that worried.  Maybe she doesn't care about people's lives? Or maybe it was an astronomically low chance.   The dragon-lady looks to the orange illusion that resembles the layout of Twisted Street, and makes a bit of a face. "...Noone uses the ritual after they're first taught it.  It's not like the adjacent planes change over time; the result is the same every activation." ... But probably not here.  Well, that's a pretty reasonable assumption.  Aside from the whole 'might explode' bit, it's even a practical experiment.

Batman regards her for a long moment. "It's hardly reasonable to put people in danger by creating a magical map," he says flatly. Then looks to Rocket. His date maybe decided it wasn't worth the risk? Still. "You alright?" he asks the ringtail who seems to have gotten the dirty end of the stick. He offers a napkin.

The small mammal spits a stream of tea from his mouth, lies there on the floor for a moment longer, and ponders this unfortunate turn of events to his day.  He sighs, deeply, which is a mistake.  Leftover tea moisture is sucked into his airway and he sits up quickly to cough it free.  Still otherwise not moving or rising, the raccoon blinks a few times as vision returns as his retinas recover.  Glancing down at himself, he sees his jumpsuit is slightly unzipped still.  With a tug on the special zipper, he corrects this.   "Well, bugger."  Gaze moving upward to the offered napkin, such a stare pauses before moving on to the one holding it out.  Rocky mouths the word 'what' before squinting.  "So Die Fledermaus wound up 'ere, too?  I mean, I feel I should be fankful, but you'uh so much a bloody coward why wasn't you out va door first?"  Pause.  "Oh no.  Issis opposite day again?"  Rocket rubs his face.  ...with the napkin.

"I couldn't agree more." Liyara shakes her head as she responds to the Dark Knight, then shakes her head again and blinks twice.  Ah, there she goes, everything has stopped being all grayscale. "But then, it's not exactly reasonable to continue dining when expressly warned to evacuate.  So I'm not going to be losing any sleep over it." ... That's some nice moral compass you have there, Liyara.   The woman reaches out towards the map, but stops short and glances to Rocket when she hears him sputtering and... Britishing.  Apparently she didn't notice him when she was getting off the stage. "Oh my. You poor thing." She creates a tiny candle flame in her hand and lets it float slowly over towards Rocket, where he can warm himself and his tiny adorable hands from the heat if he wants.  It won't burn him, unless he tries really, really hard to light on fire.  Some people are into that.  Liyara won't judge.

Batman has the faintest trace of smile. "I'm called Batman." to Rocket. "I've heard of Die Fledermaus, but I'm not him." Or rather he isn't Batman. He turns to regard the Dragon woman. "I see. That makes total sense. Using possibly explosive magic in a restaurant. I suppose it is rude of people to keep eating." Obviously dragon types have an odd sense of propriety.

"Ehm..."  The following throught process starts off with an agitated snarky edge, likely due to losing his company for the day and winding up wet-faced after blinded.  After all, Batman is...an accurate name for the outfit.  It makes total sense.  Very original.  Then again...  There's nothing wrong with placing a matching label as to what is in the tin.   Seeming about to say something, mouth open, nothing really comes out and instead the raccoon begins to move his hands as if somehow that might better explain his train of thought, but that results in a lot of nothing, too.  Eventually, this awkward bit of gesturing ends in a thumbs-up hand gesture, then an 'okay' hand gesture.  "You do you, Batman."  ...wait, floating 'fireball', what the flark?  Blink.

Batman's (rather appropriate) attitude doesn't seem to give Liyara much pause.  She clears her throat for a moment, and then turns to offer him a *radiant* smile.  Very few people have smiled that brightly at most versions of the caped crusader, and at least some of them were probably plotting to kill him at the time. "Oh, they weren't rude, they were very courteous.  But if they weren't concerned about their lives, it seems like a bit of a double standard to ask me to be, wouldn't you say?" Her smile doesn't even waver for a moment.   And then, after glancing to Rocket to make sure he hasn't actually managed to light himself on fire, she looks back to the map. "It won't burn you.  Unless you want it to.  But then that's on you." She leans towards the floating map, and squints a little.  Something's wrong, it seems too... she can't put her finger on it.  Until she does.  Put her finger on it, that is.  Right on the image of Truce Fountain.   "It should expand outward and show all of the sideplanes adjacent to this one.  Astral, Ethereal, Fey, Shadow..." As she pulls her hand back, the image does expand... but not into a small list of sideplanes.  Actually, it expands into a whole plethora of additional maps.  Hundreds. Liyara blinks.  Twice.   "That's an awful lot of..." She moves to touch one of the new maps, and then IT expands to show hundreds more nested within it.  She blinks again, opening her mouth, but no words come out. She taps one of the new maps, and a hundred more come out. "... Oh." Well, she finally shut up, at least.

Batman is reminded of Harley. Same sort of reverse logic-thinking. hm. He looks back to Rocket. Offers a nod, then puts a finget to the side of his cowl. "What?" he says to no-one. "Which car?" he says after a moment. "I'm on my way." With that, he slips out of the Usual...

Oh great, the smell of smoke drifts through the air.  It seems something must have caught on fire after all.  It's very brief, though, and dissipates quickly.  The fact that Rocket no longer has a napkin means that, perhaps, the experiment was a success.  However, being covered in fur and thus somewhat flammable, the (likely) shortest patron of the Usual at the moment gives the tiny flame a wide berth to circle around and hop up to watch the map shenanigans on a stool.  Also, Batman makes a quick exit.   Whistling at the haste, Rocky thumbs off in the direction of the cape-fluttering hero.  "Get a load o'vat guy.  I mean, I dunno.  I guess capes just ain't me fing.  So, what's wif you people and maps?  Just va uhvuh day somebody were in 'ere scribbling ovuh a map."

The smell of fire is not lost on Liyara, but it takes her a full three seconds to notice and check on Rocket.  Considering how fast she was talking before, that's practically an eternity of silence. The dragon lady must be pretty stunned by what she sees. She eventually looks to the raccoon, only finally processing his words. "Oh.  Yes. Well." She spins a little to show off her tiny capelet. "I think they're quite fashionable." ... She thinks he means the articles of clothing. She must not be from a world with superheroes. Or with comics. "...At any rate.  I'm trying to map this place so I can find a way to let people travel home." She pauses, then glances back to the map and away from Rocket.   "...But I might have hit a snag."

"But-" interjects Rocket at the same time the dragonlady says as much in her last statement.   "You know, a few o'vus 'ave been frough vis 'ole fing before.  I 'ave, on occasion, shared me own foughts and observations wif vose 'oo care t'listen.  And, well, allavis?"  The raccoon waves his hands and wiggles his fingers possibly referring to magic and definitely the maptaking figurative center stage.  "Congra'ulations, love.  You did it.  I dunno 'ow long it's supposed a'last for, but I 'ope you can make use o'vit while you 'ave it."   The jumpsuited furball slaps the counter a couple of times.  "I'm firsty and star'ing a'sobuh up.  Anyfing will do."  There's a pause as the smaller of the two simply watches both map and map-maker with tired eyes and idle curiosity.  "Me date's gone now, so...  I'm listening."

"...It's just a map of adjacent planes." Liyara clarifies, still staring at the map. "The rituals I know take a LOT of power to jump from one place to another in the same plane, but hopping through the thin walls of reality into an adjacent plane is actually pretty simple by comparison. It's..." She struggles to think of a way to couch it in language from the books she's read since she came here. They have weird 'science' words here. "...Like cutting a hole in the fabric of space-time, instead of leaping a light year."   "...But my world has a whole twenty-seven.  Well. Twenty-eight.  Well.  Twenty-eight and a third." ... A third of a plane? "...I've never seen anything like this." She pokes at the map a few more times, and every time she pokes at it, another hundred expand out of whatever she touched.  She pales visibly. "...I think I need a drink, too." Good luck with that, lady, your blood is literally made of fire.

"Sure, bending spacetime and stepping from one set of chronospatial coordinates to anuhvuh set is a very real fing.  I mean, we make Jumps a'travel va galaxy as needed.  But it's all based spacetime charge, par'icle rotation, 'ow gravitational influence is affecting va nature of spacetime, and va most direct route possible at vat point in time based upon va current structure of quantum strings, va vibration of extratridimensional layuhs, and va amount o'venergy one 'as t'make vose Jumps."   Science words!  Rocket spouts this information as if it's everyday common knowledge.  As he speaks, he lifts a hand to his ear, sticks a finger inside, and wiggles a bit while making a face.  When the facial expression subsides, he removes his finger and flicks a bit of wax onto the floor without any thought.   "If I were you, love, I'd spend me energy trying a'solve where we are and why we're 'ere instead of 'ow t'get 'ome.  Va's what I did in va Nexus I came from before I got displaced yet again and wound up 'ere, and look what good it did me.  Somefing screwy is going on and I don't like it one bit.  Me Guardian senses are tingling."

"Chronospatial...?" Liyara murmurs the first of a long list of terms that are alien to her as she turns to Rocket.  When Rocket begins a somewhat thorough explanation of the circumstances and calculations needed to make FTL jumps in his universe, she looks very confused...  She doesn't understand most of the words he's using. She opens her mouth to ask questions a few times, but then closes it again, deciding not to interrupt.     Instead, Liyara waits patiently until Rocket has finished with the explanation, and then blinks before her eyes glass over.  It actually looks like she's reading something, but there's decidedly nothing directly in front of her.  Well, other than Rocket.  A few moments later she seems to come back to herself. "...Ah.  You perform interstellar travel by calculating all of the variables you can track, then using the data to plot the precise energy needed to step between the planes and re-emerge at your destination." Wait, didn't she have no idea what he was talking about a second ago?   "That seems... faster."  And way, way harder. What an unnecessarily complicated way of doing things.  Humans are always so painfully simple, Liyara hadn't really considered the idea that she'd run into a race that was the opposite. Is Rocket an anti-human?   "...Anyway, I figured if I could simply memorize all the planes' relationship to each other..." Liyara taps her temple with an index finger. "...Then I'd be able to work out how to travel to each." The dragon-lady looks back to the map. "....But this won't last nearly long enough to look at all of these." She makes some gestures, until everything has collapsed back into the Truce Fountain. "...I guess I'll just start with the first ten thousand." Sure, start with the small numbers.   "...I thought I was just banished to the wrong plane, but you're right.  This is something else entirely."

Rocket is anti-alotofthings.  He has little love for the planet Terra and its inhabitants.  Only a few has he ever managed to bond with.  Long before Peter Quill became a daily headache in his life he met the remarkable Bruce Banner, or, rather, his alter ego.  Two were almost instantly friends and still share a deep bond to this day.  Kitty Pryde and Flash Thompson are recent additions to that short list.  And, well, there's always the immeasurable worth of Bette Midler.

"Va problem is vat I've nevuh dealt wif issues like vis before.  Whatevuh is going on 'ere, it's 'appened before.  Portals opening up, people falling into a strange world...sometimes li'erally."  His mind wanders back to when it first happened to him.  He wound up in the middle of fight.    *****   ~Why is it vat I can't leave vis mudball of a planet for FIVE MINUTES wifout somefing going 'orribly wrong?!~ The voice is shouted down at everybody and nobody from atop the building.  Eyes narrowing, head shaking, the small person hefts something large and heavy to point down the side of the building.  ~'Ow about you let vat bloke go and maybe I'll let va rest o'you live!  Seems a fair trade, innit?~   The Lizard Zoid turns a pair of Repeating blasters on the direction of the Raccoon.  There's almost a flash of red in the strange roof-bound creature's eyes at this armed response.  He was hoping to save such a use for later, but that doesn't seem to be the case. He's not even sure how he wound up back on Earth again, anyway, but Guardians are as Guardians do.  Even apart.  With a finger that tenses against the trigger of the mechanical cylindrical device so poised and ready, fur bristles and pointy teeth begin to shine in the light of day.  So, with a cocky shout of ~BLAM!~, the furry aggressor squeezes the trigger. </nowiki>         ~Murdered you...~   *****   Thoughts of the past interrupted by the delivery of a much-needed drink, the raccoon shakes his head slowly.  "People tried a'get 'ome again.  Some people even 'ad ways wot to open portals back into vem once more.  But I fink vat were a bad fing.  Maybe it caused a collapse wot sent us all out every which way.  I made it 'ere, so did a few uhvuhs from vat same place, but it ain't 'ome.  And it don't feel va same."   Rocket has mentioned before that he feels opening portals to points of origin might have been a bad thing, but he's never fully explained it, either.  "Fink o'vit like vis, love.  If you get lost in va woods, you -can- start walking one way, bi'ing and clawing yer way frough va impossible foliage wot seems to surround you, or you can try to make sense o'where you are first.  We was so confused and lonely and separa'ed from our loved ones we didn't stop t'fink if we should, only if we could."  A finger points at the map. "I don't claim t'fully understand wot it is you 'ave vere, but if you want a'study it for a while, look for repea'ing pah'erns, will you?"

Liyara was continuing to look through her illusory map, but when Rocket gets into detail about how this has happened before, she slowly starts to look away and to really listen to the diminutive Guardian. She blinks once or twice at a feeling in the back of her head. Is that... is that sympathy?  Who the *hell* told her reptilian hindbrain it was allowed to sympathize? Tiamat's Blood.   The dragon-lady's eyes soften a bit, and she purses her lips, looking thoughtful as she listens to Rocket. "...I'm sorry to bring up painful memories.  It must have been hard for you." She means it. And she is not pleased; this feeling is awful.  One of the great things about being functionally immortal is that you can just treat people like they're beneath you and haven't seen the things you've seen.  But something in Rocket's soliloquy tells her what a mistake that would be. "...You've a lot more experience with this situation than I have." She slips him a bit of coinage to pay for his drink, and sits back down at the bar with him, ordering more tea. Noone has told her yet that drinks and food are free. "I would hear more."   Non-human friend!!!

"Well, va's awful kind o'you t'offuh," admits Rocket.  Buying him a drink certainly buys his attention, for a while anyway, even if it's just a free gesture amidst the wants and greeds of random people.  "I fink you'd like watching va sunsrise on Tarfeus II."  He did use the plural.  "Va sky goes green like a misty 'aze mel'ing at lengf into a brilliant emerald hue ovuh va Western Sea, which is actually Souf free-fourfs o'va orbit around Tarfeus a and b and...is really more like a large lake, bringing to sight just 'ow black va plants are.  Stark against an illumina'ed sky, va jungle appears a'be a shadow so strong it may as well be cut out o'va sky itself, while va exneo vibrio vulnificus in va wah'uh glows a pale icy blue due to va introduction of solar radiation red-shifted by va curviture o'va extended atmophere wot only occurs in va morning."   That may seem random.  Maybe he's still thinking of the past.  Maybe he's trying to pick up a replacement for the lady that dumped him, like, literally.  Or maybe he's trying to make a point to reemphasize that he has done a lot of traveling and seen a lot of strange places.   "Unless o'course you'd prefer Knowhere."  Pause.  "Yeah.  I fink Knowhere would be more your speed.  Which is funny, considering where we seem t'be."  Rocky laughs at this.  "Pictuh vis:  A giant floa'ing 'ead in space, yeah?  A decapita'ed 'ead of a Celestial, floating around Va Rip, which is, uh, va outmost edge of spacetime itself.  It's where all intergalactic and intertime traveluhs stop frough.  Va chief o'securi'y is..."  He pauses again before finish with a name.  "Cosmo."   "An observatory, if you will, and va biggest variety of peoples pass frough it."  Rocket takes a long pull from his glass which might seem oversized compared to his size.  "But 'ere?  Vis ain't a Knowhere.  Va natuh o'vis place makes me neckfur bristle.  You might want to work wif vat cop, Hocksmear were it?  'e's trying a'map what 'e finks are dimensional disturbances, alvough I fink vey may not be incursions.  If not, vey don't follow va same rules.  Locations and time mean nuffing in vat case, but it's probably worf looking into anyway."

There's nothing from Liyara but silence for a long time as she listens to Rocket.  He's got a way with words, and while she doesn't find any reference to some of them in the books she's read since arriving, he paints such a vivid picture with the rest that she doesn't need to know the exact definitions.  When he finishes describing 'Tarfeus' II's sunsrise, she takes a slow breath, and offers him a smile. "...So you're a bard, then." She never much liked bards.  But she can make an exception for a tiny little anti-human.   Liyara can pretty easily picture a floating Celestial head on the outside of known space; she's traversed the Phlogiston inside the vestige of a long-dead god before. "...I'm sure I'd like both places." Of course she would.  But on her terms.  When Rocket starts giving her advice about ... Jack? Yes, Jack... she'll start tapping the map rapidly without looking, until a hundred hundred expanded Truce Fountains fill the air.  Then she glances at it for merely a handful of moments, taking in the visuals, before closing it back up and opening another hundred hundred.  She turns back to Rocket while she does this, apparently not needing to look to interface with the map.  It's starting to flicker, though.  It probably won't last much longer.   "...I'll talk with the strange policeman, then." Even though he's human. "Thank you." She offers the tiny raccoon her hand. "I'm Liyara." Has she never told him? Well she has now.

That hand is met with a much smaller one as the ringtail stands up on the bar counter, but there's a lot of natural strength to it that doesn't match up with the size of the furry creature.  Nonetheless, Rocky Raccoon at least attempts to lay on some charm by not settling for a 'handshake' and instead offering the back of Liyara's taken hand a kiss.  He's been slapped for far worse.  "I'm Rocket.  Not really sure wot a bard is, Liyarer, but...just so you know, many o'vus wot came 'ere don't wanna be 'ere.  Uhvuhs, vem people wot 'ave lived 'ere va 'ole time, might not want us.  I fink bofe sides are making va best o'vit, which is good, innit.  I know a fing or two about a bunch o'misfits working togehvuh!  Maybe it were random, maybe we were chosen; I dunno.  But I can feel it in me gut vat somefing is up.  Keep me updated?"   Rocket sniffs the air.  "So, any repea'ing pah'uns yet?"

There's a bit of a laugh from Liyara when Rocket kisses the back of her hand, and her eyes lid just a little. Yup, a bard. "...Let's say you have a way with words." She has a way with attitudes, tones, and bending the truth.  But she couldn't ever paint a picture the way Rocket just did.  She doesn't like that feeling; Dragons and their kin are the superior races.  They shouldn't have to envy anyone else's talents.  But outwardly, she seems quite entertained. "I can glance at the maps quickly..." She does this again before starting on another batch. "...But it takes me time to process what I saw." She retrieves her hand from Rocket and offers a quick little laugh. "...I'll let you know what I find, Rocket." And she will.  Oh, she'll let everyone know.  But maybe Rocket and Rayne will know first.

All of this talk about Rocket's way with words without hearing the interstellar filth that has a penchant for being spewed forth from his mouth, loudly, amidst the blaze of absolute enemy destruction?  It's really quite ironic and...also just as poetic.  "Right, ven!  Well, in va meanwhile, while you do vat, I suppose I could tell you about..."  Rocket has a seat on the counter's edge and kicks his feet a bit while nursing his drink and gesturing with his hands while ruminating aloud whatever comes to mind that might be of interest and somehow potentially relevant.  "But would you believe it?  A postal courier, even."

"A possum you say? How interesting..." Liyara continues her conversation with Rocket for some time, socializing late into the night.