Two Pots Discuss A Kettle

The Big Team’s submarine is a little small for six people, and while Misty has considered asking her father to shift to a smaller form, he *did* just have his heart removed, so maybe he’s not up to the task at the minute. She’s gotta check on him, too, but seeing as Misty didn’t watch some asshole knock him out (and also he’s a god), he’s taking second priority here.

Instead, she’s giving Angy a full seat while the dragon comes to and perching herself on about half of another seat; it’s a sign of how distracted Nat is by whatever conversation she’s having with Finch that she doesn’t tell Misty off for sitting in a way that no seatbelt could ever hope to constrain.

The second she sees one of Angy’s eyes open, she leans over. “Angy? You feeling okay?”

Angraxaethe wakes up like rusty old machinery being started up after decades of abandonment. Her eyelids are heavy, her throat dry and her limbs weak - but she forces her eyelids open, first one set and then the next, forces her limbs to fall forward limply as she sits up, and forces her bone-dry vocal chords to produce speech.

“....Nnnnngghuh.” Okay, maybe not speech, but it was *a* sound. “Misty? I’m…” She looks up at her friend, only to see that the pointy girl is very close indeed, and nearly falls out of the chair.

“I’m, uh - I have - I’m okay,” She finally manages, “What happened?”

Misty reaches out for Angy’s shoulder to steady her--the change in location was probably pretty jarring. “We’re on the sub,” she said helpfully. “Uh, we got my father--he’s being a drama queen in the back--out, as well as pretty much everyone else, and we got onto the casino floor and you were in a fight with some lady in a red dress? You seemed to be doing pretty well, too, but then she grabbed at--” Misty indicates Angy’s shackles. “And you just…went limp. And so I shot her,” she adds, because that feels like an important detail.

“We all got out--Nat stayed behind to keep Yamato trapped for a bit. She’s that lady who my dad’s friends with--the one he told me was bad news. Apparently she was running the casino? Didn’t get to talk to her, though, because I was busy making sure the jerk in the red dress got what was coming to her. Anyway, we all got back to the sub, one of Violet’s old friends is here--Finch--she got me this cowboy hat, actually!” Misty adjusts the cowboy hat on her head; it’s a *little* too big, but at least it’s black and works with her outfit. “And Ophanim is flying your TV back to the base.”

Angy smiles as Misty mentions having shot the woman, a wicked grin exposing an even more wicked set of sharp teeth. “Good. She deserved that.”

She sits up with Misty’s help, leaning against the offered hand to offset the wobbliness of her muscles, and appraises her friend’s new outfit change. It's a strange hat, like a wizard’s but dented on the top as if hit by a mace, and with a brim that curved on two sides. Angy decides she likes it.

“I like your hat. We’ll have to set up another ritual at the base to bring the teevee over… maybe we can bring them some hats as well. They would probably like hats. It looks nice on you.”

Misty *preens* at the comment about the hat, adjusting it again--and at the comment about shooting whoever that lady was. “Listen, if someone hurts you, I’m gonna shoot them. If they don’t want that to happen they can just not mess with you.”

Talking about the TV reminds her, and she winces. “Oh--ey also said that if they brought the TV over I was supposed to try to tell you not to steal any more TVs from the Base. So, there, I’ve told you--and honestly, that one is so big, we could set it up in the main square near the big dragon fountain, and then we could hold movie nights out there! Especially because the weather is usually always fine, so it’s not like it’s gonna get rained on if you don’t want it to be.”

“That’s a good plan. I could make it be moonlit, that seems appropriate.” She makes a face at the new angel-mandated restriction, but it quickly transforms into a mischievous grin. “No more teevee theft, hm? Ey didn’t specify *other* forms of theft? The gambling gave me a lot of ideas.”

Angy closes her eyes as she speaks, focusing. At the core of her being, past the layers of scarlet scales and flesh and bone, overlaid on her heart is a mote of bright green flame. She doesn’t know if it’s true, but she calls it her true heart, the core of her being, where the magic that sustains her comes from, and she has spent a great deal of her life looking at it, trying to define the vague shapes surrounding it and figure out her true self.

It still eludes her, but at least the mote responds to her call and sends a fresh wave of energy through her. In the real world, a brief glow passes over her as she recovers.

“I’d hurt people for you too.” She says, flames licking out from between her teeth.

“Thanks,” Misty says, genuinely touched. “We’ve got each other’s backs, okay? Nobody gets to mess with us.” It’s always…*fascinating,* when Angy starts breathing tongues of green flame. Misty can’t stop herself from looking at Angy’s mouth when it happens.

Because of the cool magic fire. Definitely because of the fire.

“Uh, anyway,” She says, blinking. “No, ey didn’t say anything about any other kinds of theft. Probably shouldn’t take anything that the people living at the base *need,* you know, but there’s definitely other things we can think of.” She grins back at Angy, full and pointy-toothed. “Speaking of the gambling--looked like you were doing pretty good at it from the chip piles I saw. Was that why that lady was trying to mess with you? A sore loser?”

Angy laughs. “Ha! Yes! I was going to cheat, I had a spell prepared and everything, but I *didn’t have to* because she *sucked so bad!* I won the teevee, a whole house, some ‘insider info’ whatever that means, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Though I guess I’m not getting any of it. Whatever, I only cared about the teevee.”

Angy scoots over on the chair to make more space for the other girl, wrapping her tail around the seat.

“How did the infiltration go?”

“Pretty good!” Misty says, sliding into the space left by Angy and relaxing a little. Angy’s warm, this close, which might be uncomfortable to some people in the cramped space of the submarine but to Misty is just nice. “We got into the kitchens, and then I hid in a cart because Violet looked more like she could be staff and we snuck down an elevator--that’s where we ran into Finch, she and Violet have *something* up but I dunno what. Maybe she’s Violet’s ex,” she considers, before moving on.

“Anyway, she was there to rob the offices, which was pretty cool, but as Violet pointed out we were there to steal a god, which *is* objectively much cooler. The jail wasn’t even locked, although the cells were. But--” she stretches her hands out in front of her, fingers interlaced. “*Guess who* can just melt through steel locks! Took a little bit, but they’re gonna have to get entirely new, like, doors if they wanna lock anyone up in there ever again.”

And *that’s* a victory to be celebrated, even beyond the whole rescuing-her-dad thing.

“I’m glad you got him out. Violet’s ex, though?” Angy strains her neck to look over Misty at the bard, who was on the other side of the vessel, out of earshot. “Count your blessings that Cadenza was not there! We met my sister, but luckily Nat does not number among her exes. That would be a match made in hell.” She shudders.

“Speaking of the bard, she mentioned something to your dad’s friend that I didn’t get. What’s an HPV vaccine?”

“Uhh…” Misty blinks, trying to remember what an HPV vaccine is. “Well, a vaccine’s like…a shot you get from a needle that serves as like, training in case your body gets some sicknesses, so it knows what they look like and can make sure you don’t get sick from them. HPV is probably short for a fancy science name for one of those sicknesses, I’m guessing?”

(It is here that the narrative should note that Misty’s school education stopped at grade five and took a few years’ break, and that Big High’s health class curriculum covered STIs in the first semester. Which Misty was not present for. )

“I had to get a bunch of vaccines when I was little,” she adds. “They’re not that bad, but we don’t even know if I could get those sicknesses in the first place, so…” She shrugs, and then turns back to the rest of the conversation. “And I’m not like, *sure* Finch is Violet’s ex. She just *acted* like Violet’s ex? And then Violet was just Violet about it, but she’s Violet about everything. I don’t wanna jump to a conclusion about her relationships again,” she adds. “Because I think that was a little rude.” She considers for a moment. “And I don’t think your sister is entirely Nat’s type, which probably precludes them being exes? Unless Morgan is a lot cooler than she sounds from your stories.” Misty’s tone indicates that she doubts that that’s true.

“Because we don’t know whether you can die, that makes sense.” The dragon nods. “I would not let them stab me with little needles either, whether they are bad or not! They probably could not pierce my hide regardless but they are welcome to try.

I still think they’re dating and just pretending they’re not, but if you think it’s rude I *guess* I on my part can pretend that I do not think so.” She sounds as if she thinks this is terribly magnanimous and selfless of her.

Misty tilts her head, but she doesn’t want to betray Violet’s confidence, even in just trying to explain to Angy. Especially because she’s not sure she understands in the first place. “I think it’s complicated,” she says instead. “And it makes them uncomfy, so I think it’s rude. Although when I told Nat that I knew they *weren’t* dating she *also* got weird about it, so….” She sighs, leaning back, and figures the other two are definitely not in earshot and so she can keep talking. “I mean, they *definitely* like each other, I dunno why they keep acting like *that’s* not obvious, but…I dunno. *Complicated.”* She says it like it’s a swear word.

“If this was a movie they’d have dressed up in fancy clothes to go on a cool casino heist and then at some point the camera would do the thing where the lighting changes and there’s a slow-motion shot of someone’s hair or eyes or something and then they’d just be together. But it’s not. At least the fancy outfits are fun, though.” She perks up, tugging at the hem of her dress so that it falls better.

"Right? Stories are simple! Things should just be like that." Angy agrees. "People who like each other date and don't spend entire months confusing everyone else around them. It's annoying!" She waves her hands in the air. "We would never do such a thing."

Misty nods at the assertion that she and Angy would be far more sensible about things, if and when either of them got a crush on someone.

Angy shifts in her half of the seat to get a better look at Misty's dress. "I do like the outfits, yes. The black dress pulls attention to your hair. It is like velvet curtains around a precious gem." Angy nods, confident in her assessment of Misty's appearance.

She pokes at her own dress, careful not to cut the fabric on her claws. "I usually feel…ridiculous in clothes. Other than my tunic, I mean. Like a bear dressed in a doublet, or like someone put a hat on a pig…" Angy's voice gets quiet, introspective. "Come look, come look, they put a dress on a dragon. Doesn't it look ridiculous and out of place." She lets go, letting the fabric fall and admiring the way the skirt drapes across her legs. "But I think this one looks good."

Misty listens, and while she doesn’t understand everything, she also isn’t entirely unfamiliar with what Angy’s talking about. “I think it looks great on you, too,” she says, leaning back a little to take in Angy’s full appearance. “I mean, you always look good in green, that’s just color theory--it brings out your eyes and your fire, but it also makes your scales look more red, ‘cause of the contrast. And the embroidery on this--the lines going up the dress? They pull the eyes up to your horns, which is great and makes sure people notice how cool they are. And I don’t think you should feel bad about not liking to wear stuff that’s not designed for you at all? That’s *other people’s* fault for not knowing how to alter clothes so dragons look good in them. It wasn’t *hard* to figure out how to rework that dress’s back. And I’m sixteen and an amateur.”

She pauses, cutting off the full rant she wants to do on jerks who don’t understand that it’s not hard to accommodate other people. “I mean, I also don’t think you could look ridiculous in anything, but that’s a different thing than *feeling* ridiculous and…on display. Which sucks.” She pauses, and when she continues her voice is quieter and more introspective as well.

“And I don’t think you’re ridiculous, but I kinda get feeling that way. This…is actually the first time I’ve really worn a dress that’s not a costume. To anything.” She pauses, looking down at it again, remembering looking in the mirror and realizing it didn’t look bad. “I thought I wasn’t the kind of girl who could wear dresses. That I would look silly, like a kid playing dress-up as something they weren’t.” She pauses again, swallows hard. “So, uh, thanks for saying it looks good. I’m…glad it looks good.”

As much as Angy *had* been fishing for a compliment, she is not prepared for the full extent of Misty’s scrutiny, for her to go into such detail. She squirms under the other girl’s gaze, her cheeks burning. It’s uncomfortable, but not… unwelcome? Weird. Anyway.

“Your usual clothes do suit you very well,” She says to her, trying to bring the attention back to Misty. “Maybe you can keep dresses as a now and then thing? Special occasions? They’d be extra special!” And it’d be extra special to see her in them, which is a normal thought to have about a friend of yours.

Misty smiles. She smiles a lot, around Angy. “That’s a good idea! And yeah, I don’t think I’d want to dress like this all the time, anyway, but--it’s good to have the option.” She lets the conversation lapse into silence for a bit, and her eyes land on Angy’s hands, and the shackles around them. She thinks, for a second, that maybe she shouldn’t ask, but…but if she doesn’t know what *happened,* she won’t know how to *stop* it if it happens again.

“Hey. Angy? Do you know why that lady grabbing onto those made you pass out?”

Angy’s face scrunches up, scales shifting over each other in a manner not unlike someone’s nose wrinkling when they’re upset. She nods, after a moment’s doubt. Misty should know, just in case.

“It’s a failsafe in the shackles. Saps all my power - or enough of it to make me pass out, since I need it to be awake.” She rubs at her wrists, massaging the sore skin caused by the constant contact with the metal. “In case I go feral, I suppose, or lose control. I’d complain,” She says, knowing full well that she has complained, and loudly and often, “but it’s probably a good idea? You could use it too, if that happens.”

Misty already didn’t like the shackles, but the added information that they can sap Angy’s power and knock her out makes her bristle and glare at the metal.

“I hate that,” she says, quiet but vehement. “That *sucks.* I don’t wanna do that to you--I mean, if you want me to, I will if I really have to. But I don’t care if it’s probably a good idea, I hate that you have to wear those.”

“It does suck! It sucks and I wish I knew by what Wise and Inscrutable Standards they judged me so I could actually *work towards living up to them* instead of having to guess and just do my best! As far as I am concerned I have not razed any cities so far, to my knowledge, so I should be fine. Nor do I want to,” she grumbles. “It’s hard to enjoy them when they’re all dead and on fire. But if… If I do lose control, and you’re in danger, just… I will recover. Just don’t tell people, please. It’s embarrassing enough to walk around like this without people knowing they can just…” Angy tries to gesture reaching towards the manacles but, obviously, fails, as it is hard to touch things that are around your wrists.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Misty says, nodding firmly. “It’s none of their business, and I don’t want *anyone* to be able to knock you out at all. I mean--if you really seem like you’re not in control of yourself and it’s getting really bad for everything, I *will*, but I don’t have to *like* the idea of it.” She pauses, sighs, drops her head down onto Angy’s shoulder, which knocks off the cowboy hat.

“If I ever find the people who made those, I’ll ask a bunch of questions about those “wise and inscrutable” standards. And then a lot of other questions too, starting with “what the fuck” and moving through “so how do I get them off” and ending with “do you wanna apologize or what,”” she says, and tries to make it sound like a joke even though she’s deadly serious.

Angy grins. “I would pay half my hoard to see that.”

She rests her head on Misty’s, taking care not to skewer her friend with any of her spiky parts.

The submarine continues to dodge mines.