Post by PeroxidePirate on Sept 3, 2010 11:28:27 GMT 10
Title: Unlimited
Rating: PG
Prompt: 30. Where people go
Summary: Being normal means going where people go and doing what people do.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There was no point in beating around the bush. “I heard that you're lecturing at Lightsbridge this fall.”
The lanky dedicate leaned back on his work stool, crossing bony arms over his chest. “You hear a lot of things. See a lot of things, too, if the rumors are to be believed.”
“Yes,” Tris agreed, patiently. “But seeing and hearing don't put bread in my mouth.”
“And? You've performed how many services for His Grace? Not to mention your friendships with Lady Sandrilene and-”
“-And two talented craft mages who are rapidly acquiring wealth, I know.”
“None of whom will let you starve.”
“Of course they won't. But the duke isn't immortal, and his sons are far less sympathetic to the likes of me. As for my friends...” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “They like to roam. What if they one day decide not to return to Summersea? I'd like them to have that option, without having to worry over a mad sister with no marketable skills.”
Crane opened his mouth, but Tris continued before he could speak. “And if you mention my abilities as a housekeeper, I'll suck every bit of air out of the south room of your greenhouse and store it in my hair. And what will that do to your plants?”
He sat up straighter in response to her threat, resting his hands on his knees; but the tolerant, slightly bored expression on his face didn't change. “Very well; I won't. What has that to do with Lightsbridge and me?”
“You know I have the ability to perform small magics – potions and charms and the like, which any hedgewitch can sell in the market. But every market-stall hedgewitch has a license, and I don't. I mean to go to Lightsbridge and earn one.”
“Ah, now we come to it.”
Tris crossed her arms, trying not to glare. “You might also have heard, I don't get around as easily as I did. I should be all right once I get there – I'm on the mend, and the first term is mostly reading, anyway. But Lightsbridge is a bit further than I care to ride – especially alone – at this point. I seem to remember that you prefer to travel by carriage.”
“Oh, I see. All right, you can drive with me – on one condition.”
“Yes?”
“You can't associate with me or attend any of my lectures.”
“What?”
“I mean it: once we reach the university, you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.”
“If that's the way you feel about it.” Tris trembled with outrage, though she managed to coax the lightning back into her braids – plants were plants, after all, even if she was angry at their caretaker. “But I thought we were friends.”
“We could be, if you'd call on me occasionally, without having an ulterior motive.”
“You've got two legs – and a carriage. You could just as easily have called on me.”
He stared at her, blinking, and then he laughed. “That I could,” he admitted.
“So why do you want to avoid me at Lightsbridge?”
“There are two reasons, Tris. First: I'm guessing you don't plan to enroll as Trisana Chandler, wind-scrying weather mage, sought after by the rulers of three countries?”
“Well... no,” she confessed.
“If you'd like me to lie, it had better be by omission. I won't go out of my way to pretend not to know you, so we'd better stay away from each other.”
She had to admit, she saw the sense in that. “And the second reason?”
His eyes went serious. “I'm a dedicate-mage of Winding Circle, sworn to uphold the tenets of the Living Circle. My vows are far more complete than what you promised when you earned your medallion. Among other things, I'm sworn to teach – and not just mages who pose a danger. Look it up if you want the exact wording: basically, I'm obligated to do everything in my power to make sure other mages live up to their full potential to give back to humanity and the natural world.
“So, Trisana, I cannot let you sit in the back of my lecture and pretend you don't know about things you pestered me to explain, in great detail, when you were eleven years old.”
“But you'll let me sit in someone else's lecture, knowing I'm doing exactly that?”
One corner of Crane's mouth turned up in what could only be described as a smirk. “I'll let that happen because I think Lightsbridge might have one or two things to teach you. Lessons come in many forms, after all.”
Tris scowled; she didn't like the sound of that.
He stood up, shaking out his yellow habit. “I'm leaving in two weeks. I'll make room in the carriage for you, but not your gear – so you'd better talk someone into giving you a packhorse.”
“I already have one,” she snapped. “I'll be ready.”
“Penniless sister, indeed.” He pointed one long finger at the entrance to the greenhouse. “Now begone! Some of my plants understand human speech, and you scared them, earlier.”
Tris curtsied and turned to leave. As she reached for the door handle, she called over her shoulder. “The smart ones? Must be the ones from Briar's seedlings.”
Rating: PG
Prompt: 30. Where people go
Summary: Being normal means going where people go and doing what people do.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There was no point in beating around the bush. “I heard that you're lecturing at Lightsbridge this fall.”
The lanky dedicate leaned back on his work stool, crossing bony arms over his chest. “You hear a lot of things. See a lot of things, too, if the rumors are to be believed.”
“Yes,” Tris agreed, patiently. “But seeing and hearing don't put bread in my mouth.”
“And? You've performed how many services for His Grace? Not to mention your friendships with Lady Sandrilene and-”
“-And two talented craft mages who are rapidly acquiring wealth, I know.”
“None of whom will let you starve.”
“Of course they won't. But the duke isn't immortal, and his sons are far less sympathetic to the likes of me. As for my friends...” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “They like to roam. What if they one day decide not to return to Summersea? I'd like them to have that option, without having to worry over a mad sister with no marketable skills.”
Crane opened his mouth, but Tris continued before he could speak. “And if you mention my abilities as a housekeeper, I'll suck every bit of air out of the south room of your greenhouse and store it in my hair. And what will that do to your plants?”
He sat up straighter in response to her threat, resting his hands on his knees; but the tolerant, slightly bored expression on his face didn't change. “Very well; I won't. What has that to do with Lightsbridge and me?”
“You know I have the ability to perform small magics – potions and charms and the like, which any hedgewitch can sell in the market. But every market-stall hedgewitch has a license, and I don't. I mean to go to Lightsbridge and earn one.”
“Ah, now we come to it.”
Tris crossed her arms, trying not to glare. “You might also have heard, I don't get around as easily as I did. I should be all right once I get there – I'm on the mend, and the first term is mostly reading, anyway. But Lightsbridge is a bit further than I care to ride – especially alone – at this point. I seem to remember that you prefer to travel by carriage.”
“Oh, I see. All right, you can drive with me – on one condition.”
“Yes?”
“You can't associate with me or attend any of my lectures.”
“What?”
“I mean it: once we reach the university, you stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours.”
“If that's the way you feel about it.” Tris trembled with outrage, though she managed to coax the lightning back into her braids – plants were plants, after all, even if she was angry at their caretaker. “But I thought we were friends.”
“We could be, if you'd call on me occasionally, without having an ulterior motive.”
“You've got two legs – and a carriage. You could just as easily have called on me.”
He stared at her, blinking, and then he laughed. “That I could,” he admitted.
“So why do you want to avoid me at Lightsbridge?”
“There are two reasons, Tris. First: I'm guessing you don't plan to enroll as Trisana Chandler, wind-scrying weather mage, sought after by the rulers of three countries?”
“Well... no,” she confessed.
“If you'd like me to lie, it had better be by omission. I won't go out of my way to pretend not to know you, so we'd better stay away from each other.”
She had to admit, she saw the sense in that. “And the second reason?”
His eyes went serious. “I'm a dedicate-mage of Winding Circle, sworn to uphold the tenets of the Living Circle. My vows are far more complete than what you promised when you earned your medallion. Among other things, I'm sworn to teach – and not just mages who pose a danger. Look it up if you want the exact wording: basically, I'm obligated to do everything in my power to make sure other mages live up to their full potential to give back to humanity and the natural world.
“So, Trisana, I cannot let you sit in the back of my lecture and pretend you don't know about things you pestered me to explain, in great detail, when you were eleven years old.”
“But you'll let me sit in someone else's lecture, knowing I'm doing exactly that?”
One corner of Crane's mouth turned up in what could only be described as a smirk. “I'll let that happen because I think Lightsbridge might have one or two things to teach you. Lessons come in many forms, after all.”
Tris scowled; she didn't like the sound of that.
He stood up, shaking out his yellow habit. “I'm leaving in two weeks. I'll make room in the carriage for you, but not your gear – so you'd better talk someone into giving you a packhorse.”
“I already have one,” she snapped. “I'll be ready.”
“Penniless sister, indeed.” He pointed one long finger at the entrance to the greenhouse. “Now begone! Some of my plants understand human speech, and you scared them, earlier.”
Tris curtsied and turned to leave. As she reached for the door handle, she called over her shoulder. “The smart ones? Must be the ones from Briar's seedlings.”