#fenixtj

A few minutes later, in the throne room.... "YO! B! WHERE YOU AT, WOMAN?!"

Jessica looks up from what can only be called a war table, although she's calling it a "communications center."

"Right here, Tweak."

She's rested a bit but starting to look ....let's say 'tired' again.

Tweak stops and makes a mocking salute, smirking like crazy. She seems in a good mood, energized. "Gots somepin for ya t'include in yer strategizin'."

"Yes?" Oh, that gets her. Tweak has her full attention.

"Ohhhhh, yeahhhhh...." A toothy grin, and she rubs her hands together as she approaches the war table. "Th' local gunsmiths be working they asses of a'ready, so me an' th' Greasemonkey be workin' on somepin' to screw up th' enemies cantrips without gettin' all banal an' shit." And she explains the function of the Disco Displacer (TM-pending-really), and its ability to reflect harmful cantrips on the sender while allowing helpful cantrips through to the target.

Jessica blinks. "That's... genius, Tweak."

"Fuck right, it is!" The nocker grump is not exactly the most humble.

"Figger it suit you, too, what wit' you bein' all squeamish an' shit 'bout hurtin' peeps." Some rolling of eyes.

"We're all Fae, Tweak...."

"Can I see the Displacer in action?"

"Fuck, yeah! Meet me at th' ritual room. Gotta get th' prototype back from Greasemonkey."

And Tweak hurries back to get the device from her protege, and invite her back for the debut in the ritual room.

"The Rit.... Ok, well....." And Jessica goes.

Symond is cursing as she fills out forms for the Bes Din "Swear it's like they don't even want genius..."

"They be beggin' for our genius when they see 'em plans. C'mon." She grabs up the Disco Displacer and marches to the ritual room.

"What's up?" Symond follows

"Demo for B! Hurry yer ass up!" Once there, Tweak sets herself up and activates the shield. "You gots some arts what c'n hurt a person, B? Or you only the bash-n-smash type?"

"I... I use my Maul, most of the time. Arts? No.,......"

Symond snorts "I'm gonna get burned again aren't I?"

"Well, ain' like we don' know where you c'n take a bath 'n get healed up quick. Git over there," Tweak orders Symond. "A'ight, so I a'ready pump a bit of my glamour into th' shield, so it all activated an' shit. She gonna try t' hit me with some firepower...watch what happen."

"I don't like baths" the grease monkey girl gripes, but she does start a cantrip "voosh woosh burn a douche" and a small thumbsized shot of fire goes towards Tweak....

Jessica moves to a 'safe' spot. "So... prime the device with Glamour? How?

"Oh."

Tweak would answer, but she'd getting fired on (literally) at the moment. She lets the shield do its work.

The shield , silly as it may look, catches the glamour...there's a two beat...and then it fires back.. a slightly smaller cantirp of the same sort. Symond grouses as it pegs her

"See?!" Tweak brays triumphantly. "ZAP!"

"You want me try the fix?"

"Now...we figger th' enemy get wise t' this, start throwin' healin' around or somepin' else what gonna bounce back to help 'em instead of hurt 'em. Greasemonkey, hit me wit dat good juju."

Jessica observes. Carefully.

"Patchet hatchet, furking pratchet" SHe flinks a spell meant to mend. This time, theres a three beat.

Rather than rebounding, it glows and smoothes Tweak's hair!

Blink.

"What th...." Apparently that felt weird. She reaches up to touch her head...her hair....and frowns at the flowing perfect waves. "Awwwww! Whatcha gotta go an' do that for?"

"Tweak, you look good...."

"I was trying to fix ME boss... remember? Not my fault your nasty split ends aint' so split"

"Pffft...musta not be able t' find nothin' else t' fix."

"You still got that nose" Symond mutters

"ANYways...y'see? Th' Disco Displacer uses a differentiatin' field to filter an' redirect th' damage, but allow th' good stuff t' permeate th' target!" Victorious, but trying to explain in troll-level talk.

A casual middle-finger in Symond's direction.

"How many can you make?"

"We 'bout t' go into production. Th' prototype done take us a while...lemme tell ya after we got three more of th' fuckers done."

"Yeah, this ain't Henry Ford's anti semetic slop ya know?"

"An' lissen, I don' wanna hear no bitchin' from th'others 'bout oh-my-goodness-th'-glamour-done-flickered...this might be takin' some juice t' finish."

"Soon, Tweak. I mean... as soon as you can, safely, I want these at all our posts."

She smirks. "On it, B. C'mon, Greasemonkey. Le's go make us some crazy fuckin' brilliance. B, tell Crawley he an' th' sprocket know where they c'n find me!"

Symond nods "I also got this idea for a 50 foot tall titanium fighting chicken"

but she'll explain that later.

"I... um, you want me to... Um. Ok. Chicken?" She watches them leave. "Um."