Issue 1 Downtime

It was well after dark. Miranda sat on the cliffside, legs crossed and breathing deeply. Her avatar hovered in the Astral, immediately obvious to any of the telepathically inclined. The avatar had been stripped of its wings and instead wore a long, broad-shouldered cloak that had been trimmed in feathers. The cowl on the hood was pulled low and the cloak was pulled tightly around the avatar as it considered the Astral impression of the sea. In the real world, Miranda moved slightly, indicating that she wasn't fully committed to the non-physical.

((Open))

Blaine walked up behind her, and paused a minute.

"Looking at the sea?" he asked, after a moment.

"You could say that," Miranda said, not turning her head. "It's always an interesting view."

"Is it? I mean, it's not bad, but surely sometimes it's just flat and boring."

"Like the school, appearances can be deceiving. My name's Miranda."

"Blaine. Are you new here, too?"

She shook her head, "My mothers work here. I've been here about a year so far. How are you liking it so far?"

"Eh.

I mean, it's been fine, but, you know. Away from home."

He looked out over the sea, not knowing and/or caring that this was NOT the Atlantic Ocean, and he was thus looking the wrong direction.

"Yeah, I can see how that would suck. This is the only real home I've ever known."

"Grew up here. I can understand that," he nodded. "Your mom's the headmistress?"

"Yeah," she said, although that revelation didn't seem particularly thrilling to her. "It has it's okay moments."

"I bet you get the biggest rooms."

"Not really, no. They go a little bit out of their way not to treat me differently from the other students where school stuff is concerned."

"You mean you don't get anything out of it?"

"Well, I have parents now, which is more than I had before, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?"

"Of course you've always had parents. That's just birds and bees."

Miranda paused and while she was obviously still facing the see, Blaine got the sense that she was looking at him too. "I'm debating right now whether to break your brain with my, admittedly very short, life's story."

"I prefer my brain intact, thanks."

"I'll spare you the details then."

"Alrighty," he said, and then silently looked over the waves again.

"So what do you do? If you don't mind me asking."

"I'm a tinkerer. I fiddle with things until they work better."

"Sounds useful."

"When it works, anyway!"

"I know that feeling."

"Oh? What is it YOU do?"

"Clairvoyance and a little bit of precognition. Seeing the future is great, when it's understandable. Which is practically never."

"You can see the future? What am I going to say next?"

"That whatever I say you were going to say is not what you were going to say."

"I wasn't going to say th...oh, you're good."

"I've learned quickly that people like to try to screw with precogs, so that really had nothing to do with my ability."

"Can you blame them?"

"Yes, I can. It's not nice to screw with people, regardless of the reason."

"Well, people don't like thinking their futures are set."

"And they're not. What we see is possibilities and probabilities."

"Yeah, but people don't get that."

"Maybe we would explain it if they didn't screw with us."

"Well, you're the precog, shouldn't you know the answer to that?"