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Elderberry #30. Stream of Life with Hot Fudge and Whipped Cream
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1251
Word Count : 965
Adding to the necromancer cast again. Not sure where I'm going with this lady, but wind didn't really seem to be an area of expertise for any of the existing crew, and I felt like playing with it.
“Time.” The clack of stiff heels against the floorboards filled the silence left in the wake of the word. Imani swept by, a fanfare of silk, and Kairn shook his head. The newest master reminded him of nothing so much as a giant peacock, constantly ruffling its feathers. “Like sound, like light,” she continued. “It is a current.”
Beside him Reida stretched, rolled her shoulders, and put a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. Kairn shot her a look.
“Light and sound, we can bend these with the wind.” She paused, stooped before Daliver, the only student in the room not paired off. A boney hand with long, painted nails fell over his shoulder, and a few hushed words passed between them. “But time,” she said, striding back towards the front, Daliver shuffling along in her wake. “It is not so easy to change. You light a candle, you raise a body with your magic. You need to have this candle, this body first. Yes?”
She waved Daliver into the midst of the lines she’d scrawled on the floor, the loopy flourishes of wind. “And sometimes, the candle, the body, it breaks. You must depend on the circumstances. Magic, by itself, is not enough.” She gave Daliver a nod, and he stood still at the center of the swirls. “With time it is like this. Too many circumstances. Not even the gods can bend it. But sometimes,” she turned, one thin finger raised, to face her audience, “sometimes we can look. The current, it is like a very special kind of map. We cannot follow the paths, but we can see where they meet.”
Reida sniffed, and Kairn raised a brow. “Fortunes,” muttered Reida. “Useless rubbish.”
“Celis is a god too,” said Kairn. “This is magic. It’s not like we’re picking out shapes in tea leaves.”
“Wind has worthwhile uses, you know. Light, sound,” she shrugged, “wind.”
“Now each of you,” Imani called. “One inside the sigil and one to invoke it.”
“You buy these prophecies about Sethan,” said Kairn as he shuffled on hands and knees to the center of their ring.
Reida wrinkled her nose. “That’s different. You think some hack with a piece of chalk came up with those? Celis is a god too. She has her own chosen.”
“Right,” said Kairn, folding his legs in front of him. “So why is Berwyk keeping Sethan out of this lesson?”
Crouched outside the circle, Reida shrugged. “Cause Berwyk’s an old fool?”
“Now.” There was a flourish of brightly colored silk and a rattling of jewelry at the head of the room. “You must ask of the form a question. It is not enough to say ‘what about this one?’ and expect some great vision. Keep it small. Mundane.”
Reida frowned for a minute at the forms around Kairn’s feet, licked her lips, and grinned. “You’re going to ask it something awful, aren’t you?” said Kairn.
“Like it’s going to give me much of an answer anyway?”
“I shall demonstrate.” The whole room sat back, half in rings, half outside, eyeing Daliver suspiciously. The woman splayed her hands, set them along the rim, and closed her eyes. “Ah,” she said. “You, boy, are a sparrow who thinks he is an eagle.” There was a collective sniffing and snorting about the room. “You will wind up the feathers in his nest.”
Daliver grew a shade paler than his usual pink. Reida rolled her eyes. “As if anyone that’s spent more than two minutes around him couldn’t have come up with that?”
Kairn sighed, nodded. He’d been hoping for something more profound. He eyed the dark strokes set around him. At least it meant Reida wasn’t likely to come up with anything too frightful either.
Imani looked up at Daliver, twisted her lips in thought, and the boy went rigid. “I think,” she said, slowly. “It is best if you do not go to the front door.”
Daliver’s mouth fell. He scratched his head. “But…I…So I should go out the back?” He looked around the room. There was only one door.
“Not today, you silly boy. You will know when.”
Kairn and Reida exchanged frowns as the rest of the class quietly buzzed. “What was that about?” said Kairn.
“Like I know,” said Reida. “But I’ve got my question now. You in place?”
Kairn lifted one side from the floor, then the other, and appraised the spacing of the lines. “I think so.”
Reida laid her hands carefully along the perimeter, bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Invoke it with the question in mind,” Imani instructed. The form beneath him flared, the light echoed by a dozen others around the room.
Reida opened one eye, and then the other. She lifted her head to look at him, cocked it this way and that, squinting and frowning as if he’d suddenly gone out of focus.
An itch crawled up his spine. “Do you see something?”
“I do,” she said, leaning out over the lines without ever removing her hands from them.
“Well?”
“What’s so special about pie?”
Kairn returned the puzzled scowl. “The hell should I know?” He shifted and the glow dissipated. Reida shook her head and then shook out her hands. “What did you ask it anyway?”
Her lips twitched in and out of a grin. “Something small,” she drawled in a tone mocking the teacher‘s. “Mundane.“ She licked her lips. “So, what flavor?”
Kairn shook his head. “You’re putting some stake in this now?”
Reida shrugged. “Worth a try,” she said, and the grin was on, full force. “Cherry? Peach?”
He slunk toward the far side of the form. “Nothing you’re cooking, that’s for sure.”
“Pity,” said Reida. “I’ll have to keep the rest of the vision to myself.”
Story : knights
Rating : G
Timeframe : 1251
Word Count : 965
Adding to the necromancer cast again. Not sure where I'm going with this lady, but wind didn't really seem to be an area of expertise for any of the existing crew, and I felt like playing with it.
“Time.” The clack of stiff heels against the floorboards filled the silence left in the wake of the word. Imani swept by, a fanfare of silk, and Kairn shook his head. The newest master reminded him of nothing so much as a giant peacock, constantly ruffling its feathers. “Like sound, like light,” she continued. “It is a current.”
Beside him Reida stretched, rolled her shoulders, and put a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. Kairn shot her a look.
“Light and sound, we can bend these with the wind.” She paused, stooped before Daliver, the only student in the room not paired off. A boney hand with long, painted nails fell over his shoulder, and a few hushed words passed between them. “But time,” she said, striding back towards the front, Daliver shuffling along in her wake. “It is not so easy to change. You light a candle, you raise a body with your magic. You need to have this candle, this body first. Yes?”
She waved Daliver into the midst of the lines she’d scrawled on the floor, the loopy flourishes of wind. “And sometimes, the candle, the body, it breaks. You must depend on the circumstances. Magic, by itself, is not enough.” She gave Daliver a nod, and he stood still at the center of the swirls. “With time it is like this. Too many circumstances. Not even the gods can bend it. But sometimes,” she turned, one thin finger raised, to face her audience, “sometimes we can look. The current, it is like a very special kind of map. We cannot follow the paths, but we can see where they meet.”
Reida sniffed, and Kairn raised a brow. “Fortunes,” muttered Reida. “Useless rubbish.”
“Celis is a god too,” said Kairn. “This is magic. It’s not like we’re picking out shapes in tea leaves.”
“Wind has worthwhile uses, you know. Light, sound,” she shrugged, “wind.”
“Now each of you,” Imani called. “One inside the sigil and one to invoke it.”
“You buy these prophecies about Sethan,” said Kairn as he shuffled on hands and knees to the center of their ring.
Reida wrinkled her nose. “That’s different. You think some hack with a piece of chalk came up with those? Celis is a god too. She has her own chosen.”
“Right,” said Kairn, folding his legs in front of him. “So why is Berwyk keeping Sethan out of this lesson?”
Crouched outside the circle, Reida shrugged. “Cause Berwyk’s an old fool?”
“Now.” There was a flourish of brightly colored silk and a rattling of jewelry at the head of the room. “You must ask of the form a question. It is not enough to say ‘what about this one?’ and expect some great vision. Keep it small. Mundane.”
Reida frowned for a minute at the forms around Kairn’s feet, licked her lips, and grinned. “You’re going to ask it something awful, aren’t you?” said Kairn.
“Like it’s going to give me much of an answer anyway?”
“I shall demonstrate.” The whole room sat back, half in rings, half outside, eyeing Daliver suspiciously. The woman splayed her hands, set them along the rim, and closed her eyes. “Ah,” she said. “You, boy, are a sparrow who thinks he is an eagle.” There was a collective sniffing and snorting about the room. “You will wind up the feathers in his nest.”
Daliver grew a shade paler than his usual pink. Reida rolled her eyes. “As if anyone that’s spent more than two minutes around him couldn’t have come up with that?”
Kairn sighed, nodded. He’d been hoping for something more profound. He eyed the dark strokes set around him. At least it meant Reida wasn’t likely to come up with anything too frightful either.
Imani looked up at Daliver, twisted her lips in thought, and the boy went rigid. “I think,” she said, slowly. “It is best if you do not go to the front door.”
Daliver’s mouth fell. He scratched his head. “But…I…So I should go out the back?” He looked around the room. There was only one door.
“Not today, you silly boy. You will know when.”
Kairn and Reida exchanged frowns as the rest of the class quietly buzzed. “What was that about?” said Kairn.
“Like I know,” said Reida. “But I’ve got my question now. You in place?”
Kairn lifted one side from the floor, then the other, and appraised the spacing of the lines. “I think so.”
Reida laid her hands carefully along the perimeter, bowed her head and closed her eyes. “Invoke it with the question in mind,” Imani instructed. The form beneath him flared, the light echoed by a dozen others around the room.
Reida opened one eye, and then the other. She lifted her head to look at him, cocked it this way and that, squinting and frowning as if he’d suddenly gone out of focus.
An itch crawled up his spine. “Do you see something?”
“I do,” she said, leaning out over the lines without ever removing her hands from them.
“Well?”
“What’s so special about pie?”
Kairn returned the puzzled scowl. “The hell should I know?” He shifted and the glow dissipated. Reida shook her head and then shook out her hands. “What did you ask it anyway?”
Her lips twitched in and out of a grin. “Something small,” she drawled in a tone mocking the teacher‘s. “Mundane.“ She licked her lips. “So, what flavor?”
Kairn shook his head. “You’re putting some stake in this now?”
Reida shrugged. “Worth a try,” she said, and the grin was on, full force. “Cherry? Peach?”
He slunk toward the far side of the form. “Nothing you’re cooking, that’s for sure.”
“Pity,” said Reida. “I’ll have to keep the rest of the vision to myself.”