Post by Alliecat on Dec 17, 2011 11:37:05 GMT 10
To: Kyp
Message: Secretly, I’ve been itching to write Farmer fic since I’ve read Mastiff. Hope you enjoy this and happy holidays!
Title: Runaway Creativity
Rating: PG
Word Count: 322
Wishlist Item: 3. Farmer – preferably pre-Mastiff
Summary: Cassine was not always impressed by Farmer. Not major, but MASTIFF SPOILERS nonetheless.
Farmer raises his hands, grunting as a cyclone of colors gushes from the dirt about his feet. The fractions of magic, each bearing their own identity and appearance, dance around Farmer’s own aura of magic. He shudders, his grunts becoming more pronounced, until the fractions enter his own aura. His magic bulges under the pressure of the shards, lumping out in places like an inflating balloon, but holds strong.
Farmer, pale, lowers himself to the ground. The earth, having lost the magic that had supported it for years, was riddled with cracks. Cassine stares into the crack between her feet, and with her magic, gages that it is meters deep, far deeper than any natural fracture in the dirt. Magically, it feels as if there is nothing beneath her feet. “Care to offer me an explanation, boy?” she says.
Farmer looks up at his teacher and even before he begins to talk Cassine knows that he has no concept of the gravity of his actions. She can see it there, in his eyes, that he believes she will be proud of him, of his ‘creativity’. “Just what I been working all week.”
Cassine stares at him, unsure of how to respond. He is certainly unique, for no other mage, let alone a student would have conceptualized such a way to gather power. “Magic is not in the earth for no reason,” she begins, her voice unsteady, “To take it all...” She can tell already, that Farmer, caught up in his own glory, is not listening.
Farmer traces the edge of a crack in the dirt. “There’s no harm done here. The dust doesn’t need any magic. It just fell here,” he says, and when he flashes one of his trademark confident, looby smiles, it is all she can do to not smack him for his naivety. “Next week I hope you will have something real to show me,” she says, her voice hard. She walks away, hoping that Farmer will realize his stupidity before it devours him.
Message: Secretly, I’ve been itching to write Farmer fic since I’ve read Mastiff. Hope you enjoy this and happy holidays!
Title: Runaway Creativity
Rating: PG
Word Count: 322
Wishlist Item: 3. Farmer – preferably pre-Mastiff
Summary: Cassine was not always impressed by Farmer. Not major, but MASTIFF SPOILERS nonetheless.
Farmer raises his hands, grunting as a cyclone of colors gushes from the dirt about his feet. The fractions of magic, each bearing their own identity and appearance, dance around Farmer’s own aura of magic. He shudders, his grunts becoming more pronounced, until the fractions enter his own aura. His magic bulges under the pressure of the shards, lumping out in places like an inflating balloon, but holds strong.
Farmer, pale, lowers himself to the ground. The earth, having lost the magic that had supported it for years, was riddled with cracks. Cassine stares into the crack between her feet, and with her magic, gages that it is meters deep, far deeper than any natural fracture in the dirt. Magically, it feels as if there is nothing beneath her feet. “Care to offer me an explanation, boy?” she says.
Farmer looks up at his teacher and even before he begins to talk Cassine knows that he has no concept of the gravity of his actions. She can see it there, in his eyes, that he believes she will be proud of him, of his ‘creativity’. “Just what I been working all week.”
Cassine stares at him, unsure of how to respond. He is certainly unique, for no other mage, let alone a student would have conceptualized such a way to gather power. “Magic is not in the earth for no reason,” she begins, her voice unsteady, “To take it all...” She can tell already, that Farmer, caught up in his own glory, is not listening.
Farmer traces the edge of a crack in the dirt. “There’s no harm done here. The dust doesn’t need any magic. It just fell here,” he says, and when he flashes one of his trademark confident, looby smiles, it is all she can do to not smack him for his naivety. “Next week I hope you will have something real to show me,” she says, her voice hard. She walks away, hoping that Farmer will realize his stupidity before it devours him.