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located in The Skycity of Revelation, a part of Revelation: The Cure, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Skycity of Revelation



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Pandora pinked slightly at the compliment- baking and such was all still new to her, and she was glad it seemed to be going well- and smiled, though her mouth took a decidedly downward turn when Professor Windsor explained his reason for being here in the first place. It seemed his father was ill. She'd seen to the older Mr. Windsor more than once in the past, and there was little mistake that the man was slowly ailing with age. Try as she might, there was nothing she could do about that. High doses of magic could imbue someone with energy and strength, but she could not reverse the process of time, and such aid would always wear off eventually. Still, sickness she could cure, though with no promises that it would not return eventually.

"Of course I'll come and see him," she replied without hesitation. "I didn't really have many other things to do today anyway." She had been planning on making a trip up to Gamma to visit the Guild, hence the bread loaves. Though she was the furthest thing from an assassin, she knew quite a few, and the Guildmaster was kind enough to tolerate her presence, especially because her skills meant that for a few hours at least, practice could be a lot more... intense. She didn't really see what good it did to slice each other open instead of leaving bruises, but she considered repairing such damage a form of repayment for the safety and chance to stop glancing over her shoulder that the Guild offered. She wasn't really savvy to the irony of feeling most secure in a building full of impeccably-trained killers.

Professor Windsor's next question caught her off-guard for a moment. People down here were not usually aware that The Cure even existed at all, but then he worked at the Facility, and that was all the way up on the outskirts of Alpha. It made sense that he would have heard some form of whispering about it somewhere closer to Marchfield. Pandora debated how much she should say one the matter, chewing her bottom lip in an unconscious nervous gesture. In the end, though, she knew she was a horrible liar, and she didn't like it besides. With a small sigh under her breath, she lifted her eyes from her hands to the Professor's face.

Somehow, that made it easier. It was almost like she was back in class, explaining an answer she'd come up with. "There is a cure," she said with certainty. "I consulted on some of the research, actually. Dr. Vanderbilt wanted someone who knew something about magic, so... well, anyway, they invented a cure. It was Mana-based, though, so they wanted to test it on a mage to see what would happen." Here Pan paused, trying with little success to mask her discomfort. Though for anyone else it would have been nothing more than a simple injection, something about the formulation had made the minutes after its administration to her extremely painful, and she shuddered involuntarily at the memory.

"It... burns, for a while, and then everything is just... numb. They only gave me a bit, but I couldn't do magic for an hour afterwards. Dr. Vanderbilt hypothesizes that larger doses could make me- us, I suppose- unable to work magic for a day or more at a time. I don't exactly know what the delay is on getting it to people with Wasting Lung, I can only guess that maybe something is holding up production." The healer didn't really understand the nuances of how the government ran things, having never been taught of politics and Parliament, so any supposition on her part was entirely speculative.

"But anyway, I do have time to see your father now, as soon as you're-" she stopped abruptly again, but not because she was rambling this time. Rather, she had heard something outside, and listened intently to try and figure out what it was. She didn't need to wait long; one of her wards triggered, alerting her to the presence of someone she did not know. She was torn between actions; it could very well simply be someone looking for assistance, but she did not deal much with strangers these days.

She was also aware that someone, somewhere, wished her dead. By what she assumed was sheer luck, the last time they'd found her, Eos had been visiting, and naturally those out for her life hadn't stood that much of a chance. The time before that, she'd held them off with a shield over her doorway and snuck out the back. That had been the day it became necessary to close her clinic for good. The small blond woman swallowed audibly, deciding that she should probably go see who it was when the choice was removed from her discretion. She hadn't locked the door behind her guest, and the handle turned.

Assuming the worst now, she readied a shield and turned to her once teacher. "I'm very sorry professor, but I think it might be best if you- get down!" she very rarely shouted, and even this hardly qualified, but it was probably justified given the projectile aimed for his head. Apparently, these people didn't really care who they killed, as long as they got to her, and this upset the diminutive healer in a way few things could. With a terse word and a sharp flick of her wrist, she manifested the shield right in the path of the thrown dagger and it bounced off harmlessly. "Rogue assassins," she explained quickly. "You can try for the back door; my wards only picked up the two."

And indeed, the two inconspicuously-dressed individuals, a man and a woman, were both in her doorway now. The man drew a longsword, the woman a morning star, and Pan gritted her teeth. A heavy enough blow from either of those might have a shot at shattering a shield, though she had been practicing with them whenever she wasn't completely exhausted from healing all day.