Kara's iLac

Job Info:

From what she had gathered, just about every mage and just about every person had managed to get ahold of the iLac phone. It had it all, games, apps, a calendar, a calculator, and of course the ability to actually contact people. She had been putting it off and had no good way to explain to others why she hadn't yet gotten the phone. The truth was it wasn't so much the phone that was the issue. She would not deny its usefulness. It was Geralt in her head that she was worried about. Neutral Grounds removed or reduced all magical abilities. It kept people equal and probably the place saw very few fireballs in the area. For her, it could remove all of what protected her from Geralt's control. It could remove him entirely, considering he had been pulled from a book as a character, and she didn't want to risk that. She worried endlessly about what might happen to her own powers, which she hadn't known existed until her young age. Was she born without it? If she went to Neutral Grounds, would her magic leave her? It was at the forefront of her mind and out of fairness, she chose not to hide such thoughts from Geralt. It had an equal chance of doing nothing, setting him free, or killing him outright. He too, was silent, his own concerns and hopes intermingling with her's.

The purple haired mage was essentially required to get an iLac to obtain work and there was only so far her mother Isadora would go before expecting her to survive on her own. It was down to this silly little phone: would she get work, make money, thrive as a real mage, or would she not risk it and end up a barista at the Red Dragon Inn, serving the mages deserving of said title. Kite's words rang in her head as she felt the self doubt creeping forth, "There are no people like me, or people like you. Just people." Maybe if she tried and lost everything, maybe Kite would still let her stay a part of the guild. "Ye already made yer decision, lass," Geralt chirruped in her head, "No sense in prolonging the worry o'er it." So many risks, so many benefits; Karasuki had made her decision. She had boarded a ferry and traveled here from train. There was no looking back, despite that she stood at the stern of the ferry amongst the crowd and hoped sincerely that the choice would be taken from her hands through some misfortune on the boat.

As the boat docked, she let out a heavy sigh and waited. Karasuki was the last person left on the ferry and she felt her magic abuzz in her body. For the last time, she whispered to herself, "Mages take risks, mages aren't afraid." This was the life she wanted and she wasn't going to let the fear stop her from going after it. She stepped onto the dock and entered the main square, feeling an eerie silence in her mind where Geralt used to be. Her magic was gone, and so was the pirate with whom her soul had been entangled. She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, her book bag bouncing on her hip as she tried to move in and out of the crowd. It was as if she could just be fast enough, then perhaps what she feared most would not occur.

She was in and out of the shop with an iLac squeezed between her fingertips. She hadn't even tried turning it on, hadn't even removed the plastic packaging. All she could think about was getting on the next boat out of there. She got to the dock and reboarded the boat. She panted, almost out of breath, and closed her eyes tight. As the boat slid away from the dock, she felt a strange hum in her veins that faded in and then faded out. Karasuki smiled, patting over her arms and hands. "Oh thank the gods," She said. She could sense her own magic had returned. "Geralt? Geralt!" Karasuki called through her mind. There was no answer. She started to feel her heart race. The pirate was gone, escaped. Where did he go? Was he killed? Did he enter someone else's body? Whose? From within her head a familiar gruff voice answered her, "Well that wasn't as eventful as I'd hoped. I'm still stuck in here." "As it should be," Karasuki answered aloud, finally taking a seat inside the boat's inner deck. A mage she was, she thought, running her hands over the smooth iLac in her grip, finally with the device she needed to make it without assistance from home.

WC: 796