Post by Seek on Apr 17, 2015 3:24:35 GMT 10
Series: Where the Wind Blows
Title: Name
Rating: PG
Event: 500 Word Dash
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 500 words
Summary: Valeria helps Erik pick his mage name.
-
The first thing Valeria says to him is, “I hear they’re recommending you for the yellow,” after they’ve traded warm hugs of greeting. He hasn’t seen her in a year; she’s been off for her journeyman year with some of the other university historians, evaluating some artefacts that turned up in some crumbling ruins in the easternmost province of Carthak. Her frizzy hair is tied back, and her grip is firm. He counts scars on her hands and frowns.
She sees it, as always. “The life of a mage-historian,” Valeria says, with a rueful smile. “They don’t tell you it’s dangerous until you’re securing a dig site from bandits.”
“I’m sure there’s a story there,” he says, stepping back, trying to take stock. They’ve stopped being intimate some time before she left, but they’ve parted amicably, and even now, there’re still good friends. “You’re going to have to tell me sometime.”
“Sometime,” Valeria agrees. “I just got back, you know.”
“And you’ve already heard?” he raises an eyebrow.
“Of course,” Valeria says, exhaling through pursed lips. “They always post the names of the students going on to the yellow in Commons. I thought you’d remembered.”
“Wait, but—it’s already—you mean—”
Lips pursed, she looks him over. “You just finished a project, didn’t you?” She began counting things off on her fingers. “Hair a mess, I think you’ve slept in that robe for at least three days, ink stains everywhere—”
Laughing, he raises his hands in surrender. “Enough, enough! Yes, I’ve been trying to come up with a decent proposal for the yellow admissions. I’m thinking of requesting to study under Yves Badgers, but I just can’t think of a topic the committee would accept.”
“What about your name?”
He blinks. Can’t think of what to say in response, except an unelegant, “What?”
“You’re graduating from the white,” Valeria says, waving her hands expansively. “No more novice robes. A fully accredited mage. Which means—”
Erik groans. “I haven’t thought of that, either,” he admits. “I think the deadline for the accreditation scroll is—”
“It’s today,” Valeria says, with a sharp glare. As he blanches, she drags him over to the registrar’s office and has him fill in the form indicating his new mage name as she stands over him, still dusty and sweaty from the road.
As he frets over what to scribble, she deftly plucks the pen from his hand, and in her messy script, scrawls something he can barely read on the parchment. “Lindhall Reed?” he reads aloud, puzzled.
She smirks. “I came from Lindhall, in Tusaine.”
He digests that. “Oh,” seems to be the only thing he can say. “And ‘Reed’?”
Her smirk, if anything, grows wider. “Remember how many pens you were breaking in your first year of studies?” More soberly, she adds, “You’re like a reed. You bend with the wind, and nothing seems to ever disturb you. And you study plants. And animals.”
The reed pen snaps in his hand.
Title: Name
Rating: PG
Event: 500 Word Dash
Competition: Decathlon
Words: 500 words
Summary: Valeria helps Erik pick his mage name.
-
The first thing Valeria says to him is, “I hear they’re recommending you for the yellow,” after they’ve traded warm hugs of greeting. He hasn’t seen her in a year; she’s been off for her journeyman year with some of the other university historians, evaluating some artefacts that turned up in some crumbling ruins in the easternmost province of Carthak. Her frizzy hair is tied back, and her grip is firm. He counts scars on her hands and frowns.
She sees it, as always. “The life of a mage-historian,” Valeria says, with a rueful smile. “They don’t tell you it’s dangerous until you’re securing a dig site from bandits.”
“I’m sure there’s a story there,” he says, stepping back, trying to take stock. They’ve stopped being intimate some time before she left, but they’ve parted amicably, and even now, there’re still good friends. “You’re going to have to tell me sometime.”
“Sometime,” Valeria agrees. “I just got back, you know.”
“And you’ve already heard?” he raises an eyebrow.
“Of course,” Valeria says, exhaling through pursed lips. “They always post the names of the students going on to the yellow in Commons. I thought you’d remembered.”
“Wait, but—it’s already—you mean—”
Lips pursed, she looks him over. “You just finished a project, didn’t you?” She began counting things off on her fingers. “Hair a mess, I think you’ve slept in that robe for at least three days, ink stains everywhere—”
Laughing, he raises his hands in surrender. “Enough, enough! Yes, I’ve been trying to come up with a decent proposal for the yellow admissions. I’m thinking of requesting to study under Yves Badgers, but I just can’t think of a topic the committee would accept.”
“What about your name?”
He blinks. Can’t think of what to say in response, except an unelegant, “What?”
“You’re graduating from the white,” Valeria says, waving her hands expansively. “No more novice robes. A fully accredited mage. Which means—”
Erik groans. “I haven’t thought of that, either,” he admits. “I think the deadline for the accreditation scroll is—”
“It’s today,” Valeria says, with a sharp glare. As he blanches, she drags him over to the registrar’s office and has him fill in the form indicating his new mage name as she stands over him, still dusty and sweaty from the road.
As he frets over what to scribble, she deftly plucks the pen from his hand, and in her messy script, scrawls something he can barely read on the parchment. “Lindhall Reed?” he reads aloud, puzzled.
She smirks. “I came from Lindhall, in Tusaine.”
He digests that. “Oh,” seems to be the only thing he can say. “And ‘Reed’?”
Her smirk, if anything, grows wider. “Remember how many pens you were breaking in your first year of studies?” More soberly, she adds, “You’re like a reed. You bend with the wind, and nothing seems to ever disturb you. And you study plants. And animals.”
The reed pen snaps in his hand.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!