AN: It's been a while since I updated. I've been finishing my college classes, so I've had to halt writing for a little while. But here's the new chapter :3
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"GAAAAAAVVVVVV!"
Jazz flinched from her position in the kitchen, stirring the pot over the fire in slowly even strokes with the wooden spoon as her hazel eyes drifted skyward. It had been Todd that had screamed in outrage, followed by the loud stomps of heavy, angry feet against the hardwood. There were sounds of scrambling feet, light, but trying their best to run away, before a heavy thud shook the house. And the young woman sighed, knowing what came next.
"OOOOOAAAAHHHHWWWW! TOOOODDDD! STOOOOP!" Gav screamed bloody murder as his friend, no doubt tackled him to the floor in anger before pounding on his arms.
"YOU BROKE THE TORCH!"
"AAOOOOOOWWWWHHHHHEEE I'M SORRRYYY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!"
More thumps and thuds, as Jazz heaved a heavy sigh, not alarmed by the violence occurring upstairs.
When Jazz had agreed to wait for Geralt to return to Crow's Perch, the Baron had used his power to give her a home to share with Todd and Gav, who had taken it upon themselves to help Jazz in her endeavors and projects. And still, Jazz had to deal with the uproar that the two made nearly every morning.
So far, she had been living at Crow's Perch for a month, with each day almost like the last in a sort of bizarre take of mundane life. In that time frame, Jazz had taken to studying everything she didn't know about the world of the Witcher, because despite her selective eidetic memory, she didn't know a great deal. For one, Jazz could speak the main language of the Continent, though she found this strange, but she couldn't read the alphabet used. The written language didn't look like any alphabet she'd ever come across while on Earth, so she was forced to have Todd read out several passages of text to her as she wrote the words down in English, before going back to match the letters up. Luckily, the sentence structure was the same as the English language, or Jazz's plan wouldn't work at all. Even though Jazz set about this task a month ago, she could barely make it through a few pages without having to stop every now and then to translate the strange symbols. With more practice, however, Jazz hoped to be able to read the strange symbols without much hindrance.
The reason for the desire to learn how to read stemmed from Jazz's desire to learn how to communicate better with the people on the Continent. After all, she didn't want to worry about not being able to read a book, or signs, or a map, or send a letter… in her words, "A crap ton of practical applications."
In fact, knowing how to read had already assisted greatly in developing her skills as an herbalist. Jazz's mind knew what to put into oils and potions, but with no visual record of what certain ingredients looked like, she had taken to reading the journals of past herbalists. Jazz found the translation process tedious, but admitted that making the oils were fun. Like cooking, but potentially deadly.
Then came the knocking on the back door. Knock knock… knockknockknock. KNOCK KNOCK… KNOCK. The knocks were in the pattern that meant that the person at the back door was someone to be trusted. Setting the wooden spoon down, Jazz made her way towards the back door and responded with her own code of knocks. Knockknockknockknock… knockknock… KNOCKKNOCK… knock.
"Amarante?" a timid voice came through the door, sounding like a child. "Mama told me to tell you that the Baron requires Manticore Oil for his Silver Blade."
Quickly, Jazz swung the door open and directed the small boy a gentle smile before handing him a small brown package full of cookies and pat his head affectionately. "Thank you, Seb. Tell your mother that I received the message and don't eat all the cookies in one day." With a nod, the young woman sent the little boy on his way and silently shut the back door before giving her bottom lip a harsh bite. "Why did they have to come here today?"
After ensuring that the fire wouldn't set anything alight, the amateur brewess made her way up the steps to her study on the second floor, where the windows overlook the mot and gates. Ignoring the clamor in the other room, Jazz stepped into her study, where various books and ingredients lined the shelves and various papers littered the desk in the far corner. On the opposite end of the room, which remained hidden should prying eyes glance into the room, was a distillery for oils.
There was a reason she hid after hearing from that young boy. After establishing herself and her services as a brewess under the employment and support of the Baron, Jazz knew that the Church of the Eternal Fire might seek her out. Whether the reason be to pay for her services, or to hunt her down for her part in killing three of its members, Jazz wanted no part in what the fanatics had to offer. As a result, Jazz established a system where someone would be sent to knock on her door in a rhythm if anyone involved with the Church entered the gates of Crow's Perch.
In the case of such an occurrence, Jazz would lock herself away in her office to continue brewing witcher oils and occasionally dabbling in witcher potions.
Normally, Jazz would have no problem locking herself in a room to do whatever she pleased. But Jazz was suffering from something peculiar.
She was on her period.
Now, this would not be alarming. After all, a woman's period doesn't just stop simply from going to another world. That's simply preposterous. No. It was alarming because having a menstrual cycle might mean that Jazz was still fertile. And such an occurrence in the world of the witcher is abnormal for magic users.
Since dabbling in brewing and alchemy, Jazz found that she could feel certain energies within her. It wasn't an uncomfortable energy or sensation. Nothing that sent chills and shivers surging through her body, but more like a warm throbbing, like no amount of cold would ever affect her ever again. In fact, Jazz had never felt the feeling before. And the more she tried to focus on it, the more the warmth grew as if being channeled. After speaking to a herbalist, Jazz found that what she was feeling might be magic, though said herbalist seemed absolutely baffled that someone untrained in magic could channel it.
Then, Jazz's mind flashed to the searing pain that the leshen had inflicted upon her.
Could the leshen have given her magic?
But as quickly as the idea surfaced, was it dismissed with a shake of the head. No. There was no record of such an occurrence ever. But that didn't mean that it couldn't happen.
Regardless of the source of her magic, Jazz started to experiment with it. Far from the eyes of those discriminating against magic users, Jazz practiced in her home's basement, trying to channel the warmth whilst making the witcher handsigns. It seemed ridiculous, staying up in the late hours of the night to make hand gestures into the air. Especially hand gestures that required the odd bending of several fingers…
And after a month of night training, Jazz was only able to figure out how to use a decent Quen despite the cramps it gave her hand, and a weak a all hell Aard, which could maybe break a plate… by knocking it off a high place.
Yrden lasted maybe a second before it faded away, and Axii might work on a rat… But for the life of her, Jazz was unable to use Igni. In fact, her magic seemed to recoil and recede when she tried to use the fire attack.
Perhaps though, Jazz wondered, as she sat down to write in her journals, the use of Igni would come with practice.
