Some people were trouble because they weren't very clever, others were trouble because they were too clever. Lola... was that dangerous mix of both that didn't make any sense, but here we were. Her father did his best, but a young girl with emotional magic was a handful. Eventually she was sent to Winding Circle, and Discipline. She found help with her powers, and she was so quick to ask questions, and learn...
And then recklessly do things with what she learned. Like learning how to dye cloth, then applying that to hair, using plants and berries she found in the various plant mage gardens she could sneak into. The last ingredients she claimed from Rosethorn's garden, careful not to hurt the plants as she took what she needed. She thinks the mortar and pestle she used were enchanted too, but she isn't sure what for. For someone loud and obvious she was surprisingly talented at getting past people.
So here she was, washing the excess dye from her hair. She wanted it to be various bits in different colors, a full spectrum of colors she liked, planned just so... and then it all turned pink. "No, nonono, why are you just pink! I mean... this is a nice color, but why are you pink!?" Complaints that started very quiet, but grew louder as she tried to figure out what she had done to her hair.
"I totally did this all right, what did I get wrong about the formula?" Lola used what she learned about dyes, and mixed it with what she knew about make-up. Lola was rather clever at how to mix and work with juices and materials even if she couldn't practically create a tonic or balm to save a life. She was looking through all the notes she wrote down, "What did I get wrong? At least when Rosethorn kills me it can't be in the well, I'd contaminate the water..."
The answer to anyone used to ambient magic is obvious, she neglected how her magic, and the magics of others, interacted with her materials. And given her magic is emotional, her own mood had to impact things.
She always knows when anyone steals a plant from her garden. Rosethorn may
not have been in it at the time of Lola's invasion, but she was near
enough. Her tone ought to call into doubt any certainty about hanging in
the well. "Get out of there, girl!"
The words come a little slower than they might have once, with the
slightest hint of a slur, but with no less force behind them. The nearest
plants all lean in immediately toward Lola, as if they might try to grab
her for upsetting their gardener, or shove her out in obedience to
Rosethorn.
"Stealing plants from my garden to do some fool thing to your hair.
I ought to to cut you into pieces, roast you, and feed you to sharks!"
Hopefully Lola knows that would go against Rosethorn's vows and there's no
danger at all.
Lola might be aware Rosethorn's bark was rougher than her bite, somewhere, but that display was more than intimidating enough. The color drained from her youthful features, leaving only the efforts of her make-up on her cheeks and under her eyes.
And then the color drained from her hair. Blossom pink waves turned to a fresh snowdrift white. Everything also tastes a bit like celery, weird side effect from Lola's fear. Lola was unaware of any of this. Her eyes hadn't left the scary angry gardener. Lola took a few stumbling steps back, away from that energy. Trying to decide if explanations or apologies were the answer.
She 'chose' to fall on her butt and fill with dread. Snow white hair turned stormcloud gray, grass 'giving up' and withering under her hands.
no subject
And then recklessly do things with what she learned. Like learning how to dye cloth, then applying that to hair, using plants and berries she found in the various plant mage gardens she could sneak into. The last ingredients she claimed from Rosethorn's garden, careful not to hurt the plants as she took what she needed. She thinks the mortar and pestle she used were enchanted too, but she isn't sure what for. For someone loud and obvious she was surprisingly talented at getting past people.
So here she was, washing the excess dye from her hair. She wanted it to be various bits in different colors, a full spectrum of colors she liked, planned just so... and then it all turned pink. "No, nonono, why are you just pink! I mean... this is a nice color, but why are you pink!?" Complaints that started very quiet, but grew louder as she tried to figure out what she had done to her hair.
"I totally did this all right, what did I get wrong about the formula?" Lola used what she learned about dyes, and mixed it with what she knew about make-up. Lola was rather clever at how to mix and work with juices and materials even if she couldn't practically create a tonic or balm to save a life. She was looking through all the notes she wrote down, "What did I get wrong? At least when Rosethorn kills me it can't be in the well, I'd contaminate the water..."
The answer to anyone used to ambient magic is obvious, she neglected how her magic, and the magics of others, interacted with her materials. And given her magic is emotional, her own mood had to impact things.
no subject
She always knows when anyone steals a plant from her garden. Rosethorn may not have been in it at the time of Lola's invasion, but she was near enough. Her tone ought to call into doubt any certainty about hanging in the well. "Get out of there, girl!"
The words come a little slower than they might have once, with the slightest hint of a slur, but with no less force behind them. The nearest plants all lean in immediately toward Lola, as if they might try to grab her for upsetting their gardener, or shove her out in obedience to Rosethorn.
"Stealing plants from my garden to do some fool thing to your hair. I ought to to cut you into pieces, roast you, and feed you to sharks!" Hopefully Lola knows that would go against Rosethorn's vows and there's no danger at all.
no subject
And then the color drained from her hair. Blossom pink waves turned to a fresh snowdrift white. Everything also tastes a bit like celery, weird side effect from Lola's fear. Lola was unaware of any of this. Her eyes hadn't left the scary angry gardener. Lola took a few stumbling steps back, away from that energy. Trying to decide if explanations or apologies were the answer.
She 'chose' to fall on her butt and fill with dread. Snow white hair turned stormcloud gray, grass 'giving up' and withering under her hands.