Law and Sorcery Rebecca and Alice tire of playing lawyers and secretaries.

Rebecca's Room
A tastefully decorated room dominated by shades of green with white and pastel accents, furnished with a bedroom set of white canopied bed, nightstand, dresser, chair, and desk, it looks thoroughly middle-class. Bookshelves are built into one wall, filled with books, stuffed animals, games, and other toys, while a padded green-and-white trunk doubles as a seat at the foot of the bed.

A red-haired, freckle-faced adolescent sits before her desk, shuffling a stack of papers with an irritated look on her face. She scrawls her signature at the bottom of one page, then moves on to the next, scowling. "Miss West!" she yells suddenly.

A younger girl with blonde hair and blue eyes looks over from where she is seated on the trunk, hands folded over her stuffed animal, Mr. Mel. A large purse sits against that same trunk, too large for a girl of her size, but Alice's favorite handbag none-the-less: a gift from her mother when the elder Westfield bought a new one. "Yes, Miss Travison?" she asks quietly.

"Come in here," Miss Travison says, using the imagination of the young to disregard the fact that the other girl is, in fact, already in here. She beckons to the blonde with a crooked finger. "I have some other assignments for you, and I need to know how the Johnson case is progressing. And bring me some coffee."

"Yes'm," responds Alice. She puts her stuffed unicorn down on the trunk as she stands up, telling him, "Miss Travison wants me, Mr. Mel, so you're going to have to wait for me. Watch Mom's purse, okay?" She beams a smile at him, then walks over to fetch a plastic cup from a tea set. In the eyes of those with imagination if becomes a serious and, of course, properly labeled corporate type coffee mug like Alice saw downtown one day. "Milk or honey?" she inquires of the elder girl.

"I will take it black, Miss West," the older girl says, in the tone of one who knows that real coffee drinkers do not dilute or sweeten their beverage.

Alice picks up the tea pot and pours the ever-demanding Miss Travison a cup of tea. In Alice's mind it is in fact pure black, and though Alice herself has never had coffee before she leans over to take in the aroma as she has seen people do. "Ahh!" she exclaims, lifting the cup to her nose. She then carries the cup over and presents it to Rebecca.

"Thank you, Miss West." The officious young woman accepts the cup and takes a sip. "Now then, has Johnson's lawyer responded to our offer yet? Has he agreed to settle?"

"Ummmm." Alice considers, giving the older girl a wide-eyed puzzled expression. Both impressed, and unsure. "No?" she offers uncertainly.

The redhead throws up her sheets of paper in annoyance. "Well! Fine, then! Let him be that way. I had no interest in settling in the first place -- I'd not even have made the offer if that fool Kiplinger hadn't insisted. We'll go to court! I am sure I can persuade a judge to see our side. Don't you agree, Miss West?" She fixes the younger girl with her gaze.

The younger girl ponders the question, and without having much an idea what Rebecca means, just nods a little anyway. "Yes?" she replies in the same quiet, uncertain tone. The older girl's gaze is met by a cheerful smile of one who doesn't seem to have any idea what's going on, but seems happy to be here none-the-less.

Miss Travison frowns again at the girl's response, and then she turns back to her papers. She shuffles through the pile, then pulls out one and starts to offer it to Miss West. But at the other child's expression, she stops, and drops it onto the desktop at once. "Oh! I don't think this is a very good game, after all, Alice," she says, standing and moving to the bed, on top of which she flops dramatically on her stomach, making the green comforter fluff out around her.

The young Alice follows Rebecca over to her bed, then reaches over to scoop up her stuffed animal and cuddle him as she talks. "I'm sorry, Rebecca," she offers in apology. Though she isn't exactly what she did, she thinks she had better apologize just anyway. "Wanna play another game?"

"Well, it wasn't your fault. I just don't really want to be a lawyer and I can't imagine that you really want to be a secretary," Rebecca says, giving the girl a look which says she is perfectly capable of imagining that Alice wants to be a secretary, but is really hoping that she's wrong. The redhead rolls over onto her side, and scootches back against the wall to make room for the other girl on the bed.

Alice carries her stuffed animal around to the side of the bed, sits down, then lays back to watch the ceiling. She places Mr. Mel squarely on her chest and wraps her arms around him. "I don't mind, Rebecca," she says. She is silent for a moment, then asks, "Do you want to play anything? We could play house, or princess, or ... "

"Not house," Rebecca says, with instant scorn. "That's worse than playing lawyers. I don't want to be a princess, either." She stands on the bed, her head brushing the canopy, and stretches her arms to touch the struts that hold it up. "I want to be ... a sorceress. A powerful sorceress."

Alice tilts her head so she can regard the towering form of Rebecca as she gestures. "What's a sorceress? Is that like a ... wizard?" she asks her.

"Yes. Like Merlin -- only a girl." She looks back at Alice, with the air of one who considers it wholly unjustified that masculine things should be reserved for men. "I could be ... Nymuae." She hops down from the bed and strides to her bookshelves, plucking up a long candlestick and holding it like a wand. "Nymuae of the Lake." Rebecca points her makeshift wand at Alice dramatically.

As Rebecca talks, Alice sits up to watch her, balancing herself with one hand and holding her unicorn to her chest with a hand. "You'd make a great Merlin, Rebecca. You know so much about everything!" she tells her happily. "Can I play too? I want to be ... a princess, and Mr. Mel can be ... Lord Mel, like a knight." She hugs the stuffed animal and looks at him, pressing his muzzle to her nose. "My knight in shining armor, like from the stories."

The older girl looks to her companion, wrinkling her freckled nose in a vaguely disapproving manner. Then she relents. "All right. You can be a Princess, and Lord Mel shall be your faithful knight. And I will be ... the Lady Sorceress Nymuae of the Lake, and all shall respect my power, even the King, your father." She folds her arms, resting her candlestick against one bicep.

Giggling, the girl on the bed peers over her stuffed unicorn and smiles behind it. "Daddy thinks you're funny, Rebecca," Alice tells Rebecca. "But, okay ... now what do we do? Can we try on clothes?"

"Oh. I suppose." Rebecca makes a face at being called funny, but she opens her closet door and studies her reflection in the mirror set on the inside. It shows a slender girl with pale, freckled skin and rumpled red hair, wearing a calf-length full skirt, white socks, and a plain top. "I look so thoroughly ordinary," she says, more to herself than Alice, as she turns from the glass in disgust, "No wonder people think I'm funny."

Alice watches Rebecca review herself in the mirror for a moment, and after a moment of silence she offers, "I don't think you're funny, Rebecca. You're the smartest person I know, and you're pretty, and you're tall, and ..," she sits up and holds Lord Mel out a little, "Lord Mel thinks so too!"

As she rummages through the back of her closet, it's not clear whether Rebecca has heard the blonde girl's defense of her or not. She pulls out a long white wrap skirt and tosses it onto the chair behind her, then pulls forth a black graduation gown, and holds it up to herself thoughtfully. It trails past her feet.

As the other girl looks, the younger one continues to sit where she is and watch her search. As the silence goes on Alice sits all the way up and hugs her stuffed animal again, looking faintly uncomfortable at the quiet.

Rebecca hums a bit, unconsciously, as she goes to her dresser and rummages through the bottom drawer, pulling out a black belt with a silver buckle. She glances over at Alice on the bed, then says, "Come here, Princess," after walking back to the skirt on the chair.

"Okay." Alice hops off the bed and smoothes her dress down with a hand before she wanders over to where Rebecca is. She begins to smile, not quite able to look happy or uncomfortable next to her friend. "You have such pretty clothes, Rebecca. What's that?" She points a little at the graduation gown.

"It was my dad's, from when he got his doctorate of law," the teen replies. She drapes it over the back of her chair as she selects the wrap skirt instead. "Stand still," she instructs, settling the top of the skirt around Alice's shoulders and tying it in place. On the short child, it makes a good cape, coming to her knees even with it hung from her neck. "There. Now we just need a crown. Or a tiara..." She turns to her jewelry box on top of the dresser.

Alice fidgets a little as Rebecca sets the "cape" on her. When the older girl is done with it and moves to rummage through her jewelry box, the young Westfield begins to rock a little on her feet as if in tune to some song only the young girl can hear. The motion also has the effect of causing the cape to sway back and forth.

Rebecca turns back to her, holding a faux pearl necklace with a teardrop pendant, and a few bobby pins. She settles the necklace on top of the blond girl's head, nestling the pendant among her bangs, then pins it in place. "There, your highness. Go look at yourself." She gestures to the closet, then starts pulling the graduation robe over her own head.

"Okay!" The smaller girl turns around with a flourish to take a step towards the mirror, her cape and golden hair swinging as she moves in a gesture Alice thinks must look elegant and princess-y. "Wow, Rebecca, you really know all about clothes," she tells the sorceress. "It's very pretty. Thank you, Rebecca!"

The redhead can't help smiling at the compliment, as she smoothes the long robe over her frame. The hem pools around her feet, leaving her with the choice of picking it up or tripping over it when she moves. But before she does that, she belts it close about her waist, making the loose folds bunch up above and below it. The flowing sleeves and cowled neck conceal her own clothes completely. She sets her candle-wand back in her hand, and gestures with it imperiously. "I should wear some jewelry, too," she thinks aloud.

Alice steps back from the mirror so that Rebecca can use it more easily. She tucks Lord Mel under her arm, and lays a hand on his head affectionately. "You look very ... very, um ..," she thinks, " verrrry ... ar ... ar-cane!" Her smile brightens as she remembers the word she heard at school.

The older girl's own smile widens. "I do?" she says, obviously pleased. She stirs through her jewelry box again, producing a thin silver chain with a green glass charm on it, and settles that upon her own brow. "My third eye!" the girl claims, satisfied. She steps before the mirror, adjusting the charm -- not quite the color of her own eyes -- to rest directly an inch or so above the bridge of her nose, pinning the chain into her hair.

Behind Rebecca, Alice nods her head approvingly. "Yes, very ar-cane, I think. Lord Mel thinks so too," she agrees.

Ever reserved, Lord Mel looks on with obvious -- yet silent -- approval.

"Then give Lord Mel my thanks, your highness," Rebecca says, formally. "You ought to have a new name, too. Princess Alice is just too ordinary. You could be ... Princess Alison, Protector of the Realm," she offers, wrinkling her nose at her reflection and adjusting the drape of the long gown, so that most of the bunching is at her back instead of the front. This makes it look better from the frontal view, and to a sufficiently imaginative eye, the back now has a "train" effect.

Alice turns her smile to Lord Mel, who she turns to regard her for a moment, then looks back to Rebecca. Her smile wavers and she screws her face up as she thinks about the name. "I want to be ... Princess Angel," she tells the other girl.

"Princess Angel?" The redhead swishes the back of her robe, tasting the name, and frowns. "You can't be a princess and an angel," she informs Alice. "That'd be dumb."

"But ..," protests Alice quietly. Her face goes from mild dislike to a pout, and she hugs Lord Mel to her for support. The knight of the realm obligingly comforts his princess with his steadfast and immovable presence.

The Lady Sorceress taps her wand against her cheek, watching the princess's pout with a mixture of concern and self-righteousness. "Well, it would," she maintains. "You could be ... Princess Angela," she suggests, "Healer of the Sick."

Alice considers the name, looking to Lord Mel for his opinion. She smiles a little after a moment and bobs her head. "Oh ... okay, I'll be Princess Angela ... " A knowing glance is cast towards her adult-sized purse, and she adds, "Healer of the Sick! I brought lots of band-aids. I bet there are a lot of hurt people in a castle. The boys get hurt all the time."

"Exactly!" Rebecca says. "And you'll be good at fixing them, I'm sure. Lord Mel can be Protector of the Realm," she continues, sitting back on the bed, resting her wand against the covers. "I don't think you'd be much for protecting things. But you could be a ... Benefactress. To the Weak."

The younger girl giggles at the thought of protecting things. She envisions knights, and she thinks swords must be really heavy. "I like that," she beams. "But ... what's a Ben- ... Benefactor-ess Rebecca?" she asks a moment later.

"Um, someone who helps people," Rebecca says, vaguely. "A woman who helps people."

"Ohhh," says Alice, understanding now. "See, Rebecca? You know everything/."

Rebecca lays back on her bed, staring at the canopy. She points her wand at it, arm outstretched. "Sorceress Nymuae," she says, with a dreamy smile. After a moment, she continues, somewhat apologetically, "You could be Princess Angelica if you want. Or Angelique."

"Angela is okay, Rebecca." The younger girl walks around and sits back down on the bed, laying back again and placing Knight Mel on her chest where she can see him. "It's a very nice name."

Next Log: Welcoming a New Face to Court

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.