I watch Bootstrap dart off, glad to see that my fellow mage and I might be able to form some kind of professional relationship. Just as I want to groom at least a script kiddie if not a decker out of HoppyBunny, if she really does have aptitude, I would like to help this boy on the path to being as strong a magic user as he can be. I know already that his path is radically different from my own, more shaman than magician. After my own disastrous time trying to force myself into a Shinto shamanistic mode, I'm not going to try and strong arm Bootstrap into a hermetic tradition. I'll do my best to give him the tools to find his own way, but at least with some basic structure and understanding of fundamental concepts. I remember enough of my Shinto tradition training to at least give him a start. Given enough time, maybe I can even find a compatible master to help teach him better, once we identify his path.
Yeah, if I live long enough, I'll definitely do that.
And I definitely want to learn illusion. Illusion is a core strength of Islamic tradition. I didn't have enough time with my grandfather to start learning, and our time in astral space is too short to start now. Wuxing isn't an illusion-centered tradition. Hence, currently I have nothing. Maybe Bootstrap can get me started and in return I can at least figure out how to teach him invisibility. The fact I learned that spell under my Shinto mater bodes well for that.
In any case, I am standing outside my door letting the fleas continue to dine on my brown flesh rather than drown them and myself in a nice shower. I slip inside, making sure to lock the door again. Jenna appears to be really asleep this time. If she was true to form, she stayed up most of the night and only recently dozed off.
Like I've said, our apartment is really an old pre-Awakening motel room. We're on the top floor, the third, and all our units open to the outside. The door opens to the main room and the bathroom and dressing area is on the opposite side. I move quietly to keep from waking my roomie, but quickly to keep from dropping any more critters than I must. Once to the other side I strip. My jumpsuit is totally synthetic and unlikely to harbor fleas once no longer next to my skin. I shake the garment out thoroughly over the tub and run water to wash away anything that falls out. For good measure, I then dunk the thing in water and leave it there for a few minutes to drown whatever is left. Hanging it up, outside the bathroom, I know the artificial fibers will dry almost miraculously quickly.
My hijab and abaya are more problematic. The natural fibers will retain moisture and it is unlikely in the damp cold Seattle air that they'll dry thoroughly in six hours. The hijab is small enough that it might be tolerable, but the abaya not so much. Ah well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Taking both garments I dunk them in the tub water and wash them carefully, both to ensure any critters are well and truly gone but also to ensure that I do not damage them any further than the second-hand apparel already are. When I'm satisfied I hang them up beside my jumpsuit.
Now it's my turn. Turned all the way up, the water is just passably lukewarm. Oh how I miss long, hot showers. Or even better, a luxurious, scented bath! But like with a decent bed and fresh fruit and vegetables, that isn't my life any more. I scrub myself, taking particular care around the bug bites. My hair gets special attention. to ensure I don't carry any blood suckers to bed with me. Once I'm satisfied that I'm clean, I step out and consider myself. Honestly, for a night on the streets, I'm not as bad off as I thought. Maybe half a dozen welts, mostly on my feet and arms, show angrily on my skin. The jumpsuit seems to protect just as well from fleas as from bullets - perhaps the demonic vermin do not like the unnatural fabric. If so, thank Allah for giving mankind the wisdom to create such wondrous things!
I think tonight I will go out sans the abaya. Not only will it still be too wet, but it's a magnet for bugs. The hijab is an absolute - my hair must be covered - but the jumpsuit by itself should suffice to protect my modesty as well as my life. At least given I'll be in the shadows, literally and figuratively, and less likely to be seen by menfolk.
Passing back through the main room, I grab my ankle-length nightgown from the edge of my futon and don it. I check on my Erika briefly just to make sure it is in working order and set it to charge. Now for some serious sleep. I set my internal body clock to wake me at 2:30pm. That will give me five hours of real sleep and hopefully cure the incessant headache I've harbored ever since my semi-successful spell. It will have to do.
I slip into a dreamless sleep as soon as my face hits my pillow.
