After the visit to Mage Viridian's Tower, Envoy met up with some representatives of the High Council of Deans of the Schools of Magic, and was asked so many questions as to put Probe to shame (perhaps). It came out that she supposed that she might be regaining some of her magical ability as a result of her adventures, and so it was that Magess Iona insisted she take Envoy to one of the gardens to test the theory.

So it is that Mage Envoy has come to this secluded clearing amidst the tangled gardens of the grounds of the School of Earth on the sky island of Caroban, accompanied by her friend – and fellow Earth Mage – the gray-furred lupine, Iona.

Also tagging along is Arkold of the Unknown Surname, and his mercat companion, Raneah, who is back in her pseudo-Abu-Dhabian disguise and wheelchair … the latter being somewhat awkward to move through the gardens here, since there are no clear paths and the ground is not tiled or paved. Raneah, for her part, doesn't complain the least about all the bumps and stops as the wheel catches a tangled root or rolls over a mislaid stone.

"I want you to try to make this podling sprout," Iona says, kneeling near the center of the earthen circle, heedless of whatever dirt might get on her already earthen-colored robes. "It's been saturated with magic already, so it shouldn't be a terribly strenuous exercise – but it's a start."

Envoy grins from where she sits nearby. "Just like my original test for ability," she says, and then closes her eyes to concentrate.

Iona nods and smiles, but remains quiet as Envoy concentrates.

Having had some trouble maneuvering the wheelchair through the thick foliage, and also having stopped to point out varieties of planet life he knows (Or thinks he does, anyway.), Arkold and Raneah just now arrive in the clearing where the two mages have set up. As he eases Raneah's wheelchair over a root he waves with a hand. "You wouldn't believe this place. Or uh, heh, maybe you would actually. S'incredible," he greets them.

Just as quietly, an airship drifts slowly by, the gasbag painted up to suggest a giant stylized fish, the spined wings and fans on the sides adding to this overall effect. Raneah looks up from her wheelchair, jaw gaping in awe at the distant but nonetheless bizarre sight, temporarily distracted from the awkwardness of her predicament.

Deciding to try for something simple, Envoy imagines a rose. Her nostrils flair as she recalls the scent, along with the texture and other features she's familiar with. Once she has all of the defining elements in mind, she translates them into sounds and applies them as changes to the standard growth spell she knows, singing with both voices and reaching out to the stored magic in the ground.

Arkold looks up and points at the fish-ship. "Tha's an' airship, Raneah. We took one ta get 'ere, but tha' one is painted up like a fish. Kinda like home, huh?" he explains. His voice has quieted considerably however – he seems to have got the hint the Exile might be focusing here.

The recently disturbed earth trembles ever so slightly in the tiny spot in the center of the circle, where the "podling" has been buried. A tiny bit of green pokes tentatively up from the soil.

Envoy feels a bit of feedback, which encourages her to put more effort into the spell. The target image of the rose dominates her attention as she urges the magic on.

Raneah nods wordlessly to Arkold, then looks to the stones and to the kneeling mages, then peers at the tiny focus of color that is emerging from the soil between them.

The wolf follows Raneah's gaze to the soil and nods to her. "Tha', Raneah, is magic at work. S'the power ta change things with words, gestures, and the magic tha's everywhere. The Collegia controls magic on Sinai," he explains.

Envoy can feel the ground beneath her quivering with magical energies, responding to her invocation. It feels her with a sensation of soil still chilled by winter, newly awakening with springtime, even though such things as winter do not touch the odd climate of a sky island such as Caroban – not without deliberate arrangement by magic, that is. Rather, the sensation of something long slumbering, waking up at last, is more likely a reaction to Envoy's own experience, working a cantrip after so long her magic has been dormant.

Raneah frowns. "Changing things?" She looks querulously up to Arkold. "Is she changing the shapes of living things?"

The Aeolun runs through the basic "growth" portion of the spell several times, until she feels that the magic is following the proper channels. Her song changes, as she concentrates on the finer details and bringing out the essential 'rosiness' of the plant, letting the energy flow a little more freely.

"Um, well … she's encouraging it ta grow, I think," Arkold answers. He leans forward and peers at the sprout. "Magic can change livin' things; it can fix them, too. I guess it's all abou' who casts it. Good intentions and bad ones, Raneah. Like … like a sword, but the effect isn' the same. Some mages work with life as healers and shapers, some with water, fire, even dream an' shadow."

A quiet gasp escapes from Iona, as she watches the seedling break free from the soil and grow into a flower at a magically accelerated rate. The proportions are a little odd, a little exaggerated, the leaves a little too large, the thorns curved a little too much, but that does not detract from the fact that something obviously magical is happening, and it is under Envoy's control. She reaches up to brush aside a tangle of her grayish mane that has blown across her face in an errant breeze, watching the formation of the rose intently.

Raneah nods at Arkold's explanation, biting her lip contemplatively, though her furrowed brows suggest that she is reluctant to be quite so accepting of this as the others are.

Envoy loosens her hold on the shaping magic, letting it follow the course she's tried to lay out, and returns again to the growth aspect in order to encourage the bud to bloom.

The verdant green of the flower rises from the dark earth, droplets of moisture running from its unfolding leaves and plinking against the ground, while a single bud forms, then splits open, revealing a single bloom of ruby red, unnatural in its vibrant color and idealized perfection.

Opening her eyes to match the results with her target image, Envoy begins to wind down the spell, letting the magic ground itself, so to speak, back in the soil.

Arkold moves around Raneah to sit down beside her. "S'up ta you to decide what ta make of it Raneah, an' I know how yah feel about changin' life aroun'. But most of these heal, and I'm sure most of 'em do the rest for a good cause or another. They have strict rules abou' harmful life magic or playin' with life at all." He pauses to watch the red flower and considers for a moment, then adds, "S'important to weigh the intention with the deed, I think. Yah might wanna ask yourself if it helps or harms. But I don' really know what the Sirens believe – not really."

The flower stops trembling and twitching, as the artificially inspired growth ceases, giving way to its own more natural processes as a living thing. Iona smiles as she looks up to Envoy. "You did it!" she whispers.

The wolf, for his part, lifts has hands and claps. "Great goin', 'Voy!" he cheers the Aeolun.

Envoy looks critically at the flower, then brightens and says to Iona, "I suppose I did! It's a start, anyway."

Iona smirks, refraining from any critical commentary on the flower. "That it is. It's great to have you back, Mage Envoy."

Arkold glances at Raneah, saying, "Some day, would yah tell me about what Sirens believe? I know I don' quite get it at the moment, but I'd like to." He smiles at the mermaid and and pats her hand. "I'm sure this is all weird for yah, but you'll get used ta it in time. I promise."

Giving her fellow Earth Mage a hug, Envoy says, "It's good to be back! I hope I can work up to my old skill again." It's a small success, but she's not about to abandon her quest over it. There's more than just magic to recover, after all.