‘Verse: Natural Forces
Challenges/Toppings/Extras: Kiwi-Strawberry #13 (melody), Strawberry Banana #5 (a date), Lemon Meringue Pie/Limited Edition Flavor #6 (slow)
Rating: PG
Title: All Vast Oceans
Summary: A first date, a funny name, and... how do mages entertain themselves?
Notes: Introducing new mains here. They’ll be my go-to pairing for romance prompts, methinks.
“Tiz,” Orsana said, rolling the name around in her mouth and deciding that, while it stuck to her teeth in all the wrong ways, it suited him.
The floppy-haired boy opposite glanced down at the table, lip twitching. “Yes, ah… Murm meant well.”
“Tiz,” Orsana repeated. She grimaced and took a sip of her lemonade, letting the tart drink wash away the name.
“You don’t have to say it like that, you know. I’ll answer to Taz as well. Managed to convince Mage Pryla that was my name the first day and Murm just wrote fast - well, needless to say both of them were mad about it for a long time.”
“Mm.” The next table erupted in laughter. Someone bumped Orsana’s chair, jostling her before joining the crowd around whatever had absorbed their neighbors’ attention. Orsana scowled. It was far too noisy in this place for her liking. “How long have you been here, anyway?”
“Years. Practically grew up here.” Tiz’s eyes, a plain brown, slid over to glance at the other table. He shrugged and looked back, staring into the dark depths of his cola like it held the meaning of existence within.
“Really? Say, does it get easier? The walls, I mean,” Orsana said, lowering her voice and leaning in. Might as well ask now…
“What?”
“The walls. I’m okay with stone beds, but the walls are the worst. It’s like they’re sucking the warmth out of me.” Tiz rolled his eyes, and she glared at him. Orsana did not like her dates making fun of her. Even if this one was cute. And obviously a prodigy if he had grown up within the College. Too bad about the name… Taz was better. She could work with Taz.
“Most schools around the world are like this, or so I’ve heard. They do have the Academy of Sand in St. Lucia, though.” Tiz quirked an eyebrow.
There he was, making fun of her again. “I will not be going to the Academy of Sand, thank you,” she said with affronted dignity.
The next table burst into cheering, and Orsana twisted around. “What are they doing…?” She couldn’t see through the crush of bodies, and the excited chatter overlapped itself, making it hard for her to think amid the buzzing voices.
Tiz stood abruptly and peered over the crowd, which was only growing larger. His height apparently gave him a clear view of what was going on - Orsana watched his face darken and his mouth twist into a grimace.
“What is it?” she asked, mouth dry.
Tiz glanced down at her. “They’re… well. There’s an open spot on the other side. Want to see?”
She had barely finished her jerky nod when he grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the seat, pulling her along around the crowd until suddenly - quite suddenly - she was pushed up against the open spot, which was really just a gap between two spectators’ heads. She had to stand on tiptoe to see the table itself, which everyone seemed to be concentrating on.
It was a rat. Body about the size of Orsana’s fist, a long tail twitching beside. It crouched, unmoving but for the tail, on the oak surface of the table.
A girl, a little older than Orsana herself and dressed in the dark green of a visiting apprentice, was seated behind the rat, holding one hand flat a few inches above the brown-furred creature. Her chin was propped on the other hand. Boredom practically oozed from her pores, but in her dark blue eyes only concentration glittered.
The crowd was muttering. “Come on, do it again,” said someone Orsana couldn’t see. His thick brogue was laced with impatience.
The girl smiled, but it was cold. Her fingers, hovering above the rat, curled down. Green tendrils of smoke seeped from her palm and swirled around the rat, attaching to its body and pulling taunt like chains, connecting rat to girl. Orsana recognized the spell. It was officially of the Image school, though of a fairly obscure side branch that involved direct manipulation by inserting commands into the subject’s mind. Change magic had similar spell that controlled muscles. She and the others in her magerank had just learned about it that morning in Theory class, though it had not been demonstrated, just described. It was, apparently, immensely difficult on animal subjects and nigh impossible on even the weakest-willed human.
Something heavy settled in Orsana’s gut.
The girl slowly raised her arm, and the smoke-chains around the rat thinned until they were barely visible. When she straightened her fingers they disappeared altogether, and all that was visible of the charm was a faint green glow around the tips of the rat’s fur.
“Let’s see,” said the girl. “Ah, how about this?” She raised her head off her left hand and snapped her fingers. The crowd went silent, holding their breath.
Then, a sound reached Orsana’s ears. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once, and while Orsana’s brain caught up with the fact that this was another Image spell, the tune began. She didn’t recognize the melody, but it was slow and measured and sounded like a harp and a piano at once.
And the rat danced.
It reared upright, tiny forepaws waving, and began a one-rat waltz - spin, shuffle, hindpaws in as perfect a step as one could expect to see from a professional human dancer. Its front paws were held out as if it were guiding a partner, and it turned in sweeping circles to the melody.
Orsana watched, an odd mixture of horror and appreciation swelling in her heart. The girl in the apprentice’s robes was smiling lazily, still holding her hand motionless above her twirling pet, drinking in the oohs and ahs of her audience as if she had done this same performance a dozen times.
The tune drew to a close. As the last strains filtered through the room, the rat slowed and finally swept into a deep bow. It stood that way for a moment, before the girl flexed her fingers and it dropped back down to its starting position, looking like an ordinary rat once more.
There was a smattering of applause. The lump in Orsana’s gut made her slightly nauseous, but she was rooted to the spot. “That’s all for today, I think,” said the girl. The crowd grumbled, but began to disperse, and Orsana’s stupor was broken. She turned around, trying to make sense of the emotions flitting through her and the stutter in her heart. Tiz was still there, watching her with dark eyes.
Orsana looked back, but the apprentice-girl was already leaving. She slipped out the back door of the restaurant, rat perched on her shoulder.
Tiz quirked an eyebrow, gesturing back to their table, where their food had appeared at some point. It was still warm, kept stable by a bubble of Change magic. Orsana didn’t have much of an appetite anymore, though she didn’t know what it was about the performance that made her so unsettled, but she sat anyway and took small sips of her lemonade.
“Take it home, eh?” said Tiz - still there, still watching her with vague sympathy in his stare.
Orsana rubbed her temple. “That was weird.” She didn’t know why she’d said it, hadn’t planned on it at all, but once the words were out she realized they summed the experience up well.
Tiz shrugged. “I don’t know who that was, but if she’s an apprentice on her travels, she won’t be around long. Good, because you know the higher-ups frown on demonstrations like that. There’s a reason they don’t show us how to do some of the more… ethically problematic spells in class.”
“Look at you,” Orsana said, smiling despite herself. “Using big words.”
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s the hair, isn’t it? Makes me look like I don’t care enough about- well, anything.”
“It’s not that, not by itself anyway.”
Tiz quirked an eyebrow. She was beginning to like that eyebrow. “Oh? What are these other factors, then?”
Orsana leaned forward, hoping her instincts were correct. It had been a long time. “I’ll tell you. Perhaps on the second date, hmm?”
He looked more surprised than she thought he would, but seemed happy enough to pay the tab, walk her across the property to the first year girl’s dorms, and arrange the next meeting. And when he had gone, mage-lamp bobbing dutifully behind him in the dark of the night, she flopped on her bed, smiled into her pillow, and steadfastly ignored the excited interrogation from her yearmates. After a while they stopped attempting to evoke a clue from her, and huddled in the far corner from Orsana’s bunk, making bets on who and how long.