
When Bowie finally makes it back to the safety of his house, his friends are waiting at the bar, once again fully dressed. But the sparkly outfits they were wearing just three hours ago while haunting Orchid A Go Go – well, they no longer fit the current situation.
How quickly the mood can change.
„Hey, I’m back,“ Bowie says quietly.

His two friends promptly turn round. Concern is written all over Morgyn’s face, while Harley’s eyebrow tries to climb into her hairline when she sees the baby on Bowie’s arm.
„Yours?“ she asks.
„Yup!“
„But how?!“
„One night stand last year. The mother just bailed.“
Silence rules the next brief moment. Not because they are so surprised, oh no. Bowie can plainly see how they think different variations of ‘It was only a matter of time…’ and ‘Somehow you always land the strangest ones!’ and swallow them without saying anything. He has the best friends in the world. They probably will even babysit if he asks nicely enough.
And of course it’s Morgyn who immediately brings up the juicy details of the situation:

„Bowie, didn’t you have a vasectomy?“
„Yes. About three months ago. Do the math.“
„Huh,“ the Sage grins, „The operation came a little late, hm?“
Harley bites back a laugh, because in his own way Morgyn just volunteered to change nappies. Meanwhile Bowie has mischief written all over his face.
„Darling, Morgyn, Master of the Seventeen Spheres…“, purrs the gangly actor, „I’m afraid I must warn you: I’ve just called my mother.“
„Urgs. Then I’d better get out of here before she spontaneously develops a method of long-distance-transportalation,“ says Morgyn…
…at the exact moment the front door bangs open and perfectly cobbled block heels clatter across the parquet floor.

„You underestimate my capabilities once again, oh ‘Wise One’,“ a deep, commanding female voice says from the direction of the front door. Aria Legate, „reformed“ supervillain, top trainer of the S.I.M.S (it’s cheaper to pay her than to fight her) and Bowie’s mother, stalks into the living room.
„Aw, nooooo…“ grumbles the blonde.
„the warning came a bit late, hm?“, Bowie sniggers.

Aria pushes her suitcase into the corner and scrutinises those present. Her red eyes narrow as her gaze falls on Morgyn.
„Okay,“ she says after a moment, „I can understand Harley walking around at three in the morning all dolled up: She could stab a man in the street and the press would complain that he ran into their blonde angel’s knife – but she’d better not be caught without make-up. But you, Morgyn? Bare-chested?“
„Envious of my PR company?“ Harley interrupts innocently and it has absolutely nothing to do with the young actress trying to distract Aria from the Sage.
Aria laughs.

„But of course. What do you think I’d save in legal fees? But that’s nothing compared to the small miracle that our chronic popsicle here walks around belly-free. He felt too cold even in Sulani!“
Morgyn sighs.
„I’m wearing an enchanted woollen jumper, if you really must know. Make-up, outfit, hairstyle – all part of a tactile illusion permanently woven into the jumper. Can’t you see the magic structure by yourself?“
Aria just grins.

„Have you ever thought of putting several illusions on one object and controlling their effectiveness with a passphrase?’
Morgyn shakes his head.
„The stability of the spell matrix when subjected to such a complicated enchantment…“
„… Shouldn’t really be a problem for a mage as ambitious as you. You’re one of the best and brightest of this generation, Morgyn. You could build a jumper that changes illusion every time Simeon Silversweater blathers on about the ‘dignity of all magic’ – and then firmly claim that he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. I bet Faba would join in. As would any other mage who had the misfortune of having to listen to one of Simeon’s sermons.“
The Sage of Untamed magic falls silent and chews on his fingernail as he begins to plan new spell matrices.
„Alternative suggestion,“ Aria interrupts him impassively, „Store some clothes with my son. You really are here often enough.“
„As nice as catching up is,“ interrupts Bowie, „I actually called you here because of her.“
The actor lifts his daughter into Aria’s field of vision. Morgyn is immediately forgotten and the Villain turns her attention towards her surprise granddaughter.

Behind her back, Harley nudges Morgyn and whispers:
„Silversweater… Wasn’t that the guy who called me an overly-painted fishy floozy?“
„Yeah, that’s the one,“ Morgyn shudders as he thinks about that encounter, „I’m still sorry. I thought… Well, Sages are chosen for talent, not personality. Otherwise I would probably never have become one.“
„Listen: make Silversweater really doubt his dusty mind and I’ll persuade Dunkelstolzen to listen to you for at least fifteen minutes. And without drowning you afterwards.“
Astonished, Morgyn whispers back:
„Didn’t you say you didn’t want to meddle in the affairs of us Sparkle-Tossers?“
Harley snorts.
„That was before that ‘Sage’ had insulted me to the scales.“

Bowie grins. If his mother hears her trap snap shut (whatever she’s trying to achieve), she doesn’t let on. All her concentration is focussed on the little creature in her firstborn’s arms. He knows that she too has immediately recognised her own magical lineage in the child – but also that she ultimately doesn’t care at all. Magical status (or lack thereof) has never affected his mother’s happiness with new descendants; all grandchildren are welcome. And she steadfastly refuses to favour or neglect anyone from her clan. Even if one or two members would love to see far, far less of her.
‘What’s the little one’s name?’ Aria finally asks, enraptured.

„I thought of Clio,“ Bowie says, „Just like the muse of history and heroic song, in short: of fame and notoriety.“
„That suits you two,“ Aria nods contentedly, “But what do you mean by ‚you thought’?“

Bowie has to laugh.
„Because she’s mine now and I refuse to use her old name! Can you imagine what her mother called her? Anne-Mariechen Moonlight…“

Fffooom!!

„No, nonoNONO!“ Bowie shrieks as he sprays extinguishing foam onto the flames, „Not my stereo! Not that one! That was a present from my eldest brother!“
„Bowie,“ says Aria coldly as she skilfully keeps the curious baby away from the flames, „you’re a mage.“

„It’s about the principle, mother!“ he hisses and swings his wand. The burnt tatters of the stereo system quickly merge back into a functioning whole.
„Even with the best Repairo it’s never quite the same afterwards! This better not ruin the stereo’s sound!’
Bowie shakes the last sparks of free magic from his hands (discretion and restraint have never been his strong points) as Harley and Morgyn carefully poke their heads back into the living room. The actor doesn’t know who dragged whom out of the house and doesn’t want to know. They both have good reason to fear fire and Bowie likes his closest mates far too much to broach the subject without good reason.
Meanwhile, Aria stares enraptured at her tenth grandchild. No matter how many times it has happened… There is always something very special about the first time she gets to holding one of her many offspring in her arms.

„Hey there,“ she smiles, „Still on liquids, but with very firm opinions, eh?“
She cuddles Clio.
„Believe me, you’ll fit perfectly into this family.“