(no subject)
FotD 11/19/09 - Obfuscate with Hot Fudge and Whipped Cream
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1244
Word Count : 702
Word of the Day : Obfuscate - to darken or render indistinct or dim; to make obscure or difficult to understand or make sense of; to confuse or bewilder.
[Sethan's age has been adjusted and may not match some comments]
Berwyk eyed the small form in the overlarge chair over the books and papers that lined his desk. He shuffled the stacks from side to side, pretending not to notice the boy as he wormed his way to the back of the seat, boney little legs dangling in the air as his backside reached the slats.
“So,” he said, casually. Sethan stopped his wriggling to peer up at him through the dark mass of curls that bobbed around his face. “Does she speak to you?”
Sethan donned that fake look of innocence at which boys his age are such experts and swung one foot over the other. “Does who speak to me, sir? If you mean the Lady of the manor, well, she treats us all well enough, I suppose, but I doubt she even knows my name.”
“I mean Cheva, boy.” Berwyk slid another swaying heap of pages across the wood.
“Well,” said Sethan, “that would be something, now wouldn’t it? A goddess talking to me.”
He let the papers rest, looked the boy full in the face, and Sethan went quite still. “She’s talking to you right now, isn’t she? Telling you not to answer.”
“Right now?” Sethan repeated, and the corner of his lips gave a twitch.
“In your head.”
He split into a wide grin. “You have some funny notions, sir.”
There was a gleam in Sethan’s eye that had Berwyk wondering if it was the god or the child he was arguing with. “You’re not going to convince me, boy. I’ve been looking for you for a long time now.
“Me?” Little legs bounced, toes kicking at the air, as he squirmed in the chair. “But I’m nothing-”
“How did you know the water form?”
“The what?” He was still again, watching him, and Berwyk had served in enough courts to know that look. He was sizing him up, preparing his next move, counting his cards and taking stock of his dirty secrets. And if the boy wasn’t, the one behind him certainly was.
Berwyk sighed. “The lecture yesterday,” he said. “Don’t think I wasn’t watching you. You had the form finished before I did.”
Sethan shrugged, still grinning, still brimming with false innocence. “I must have seen your notes,” he said.
Berwyk shook his head and made a show of returning to his papers, and the boy let his feet wave again. “You know,“ he said. “I am looking for an apprentice.”
A thoughtful frown replaced the grin. “I thought we were all-”
“A personal apprentice,” said Berwyk, and Sethan perked up. “But my requirements are a bit high.”
The boy cocked a brow. “Hearing voices?”
“Not necessarily.” He laid a book to rest atop a stack of its fellows and paused to catch the boy’s eye again. It may be the goddess that was toying with them both, but that hardly meant the boy wasn’t a player. “Knowing who to listen to might help.”
A smirk of such utter superiority and self satisfaction it had no business on the face of a seven-year-old came over him. “You’re expecting me to slip up now, aren’t you?” said Sethan. “Tell you she says that won’t be a problem, that she knows I’m hers.”
The look was so cold Berwyk wondered if the boy really was simply mocking him and the goddess really did have nothing to say. But if he’d learned anything from Filas it was that gods had egos. “Does she now?”
“She might,” said Sethan. “If there were a voice. But that would be something, wouldn’t it? So when do I start?”
“Pardon?”
He was shimmying his way back to the front of the chair, pulling himself along on the arms until his feet met the floor. “When do I start being your apprentice? And do I get to do something more interesting than simple elemental forms then?” And again, somehow, he was a seven year old boy, bouncing out of the chair, all eager for attention.
“I hadn’t said…”
“I wonder what she might say about that.” There was just a hint of the return of that grin, and then it was gone. “I mean, if she was saying anything at all.”
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1244
Word Count : 702
Word of the Day : Obfuscate - to darken or render indistinct or dim; to make obscure or difficult to understand or make sense of; to confuse or bewilder.
[Sethan's age has been adjusted and may not match some comments]
Berwyk eyed the small form in the overlarge chair over the books and papers that lined his desk. He shuffled the stacks from side to side, pretending not to notice the boy as he wormed his way to the back of the seat, boney little legs dangling in the air as his backside reached the slats.
“So,” he said, casually. Sethan stopped his wriggling to peer up at him through the dark mass of curls that bobbed around his face. “Does she speak to you?”
Sethan donned that fake look of innocence at which boys his age are such experts and swung one foot over the other. “Does who speak to me, sir? If you mean the Lady of the manor, well, she treats us all well enough, I suppose, but I doubt she even knows my name.”
“I mean Cheva, boy.” Berwyk slid another swaying heap of pages across the wood.
“Well,” said Sethan, “that would be something, now wouldn’t it? A goddess talking to me.”
He let the papers rest, looked the boy full in the face, and Sethan went quite still. “She’s talking to you right now, isn’t she? Telling you not to answer.”
“Right now?” Sethan repeated, and the corner of his lips gave a twitch.
“In your head.”
He split into a wide grin. “You have some funny notions, sir.”
There was a gleam in Sethan’s eye that had Berwyk wondering if it was the god or the child he was arguing with. “You’re not going to convince me, boy. I’ve been looking for you for a long time now.
“Me?” Little legs bounced, toes kicking at the air, as he squirmed in the chair. “But I’m nothing-”
“How did you know the water form?”
“The what?” He was still again, watching him, and Berwyk had served in enough courts to know that look. He was sizing him up, preparing his next move, counting his cards and taking stock of his dirty secrets. And if the boy wasn’t, the one behind him certainly was.
Berwyk sighed. “The lecture yesterday,” he said. “Don’t think I wasn’t watching you. You had the form finished before I did.”
Sethan shrugged, still grinning, still brimming with false innocence. “I must have seen your notes,” he said.
Berwyk shook his head and made a show of returning to his papers, and the boy let his feet wave again. “You know,“ he said. “I am looking for an apprentice.”
A thoughtful frown replaced the grin. “I thought we were all-”
“A personal apprentice,” said Berwyk, and Sethan perked up. “But my requirements are a bit high.”
The boy cocked a brow. “Hearing voices?”
“Not necessarily.” He laid a book to rest atop a stack of its fellows and paused to catch the boy’s eye again. It may be the goddess that was toying with them both, but that hardly meant the boy wasn’t a player. “Knowing who to listen to might help.”
A smirk of such utter superiority and self satisfaction it had no business on the face of a seven-year-old came over him. “You’re expecting me to slip up now, aren’t you?” said Sethan. “Tell you she says that won’t be a problem, that she knows I’m hers.”
The look was so cold Berwyk wondered if the boy really was simply mocking him and the goddess really did have nothing to say. But if he’d learned anything from Filas it was that gods had egos. “Does she now?”
“She might,” said Sethan. “If there were a voice. But that would be something, wouldn’t it? So when do I start?”
“Pardon?”
He was shimmying his way back to the front of the chair, pulling himself along on the arms until his feet met the floor. “When do I start being your apprentice? And do I get to do something more interesting than simple elemental forms then?” And again, somehow, he was a seven year old boy, bouncing out of the chair, all eager for attention.
“I hadn’t said…”
“I wonder what she might say about that.” There was just a hint of the return of that grin, and then it was gone. “I mean, if she was saying anything at all.”