Wren's Reminscings | 116 4A +
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Re: Wren's Reminscings | 116 4A +
by Nara-pyon Sat Feb 06, 2016 5:24 pm
Location: The Tent, western Keliac, Arkandia
Year: 119 4A
Status: Late Winter
While Wren was talking with her father, which could potentially take several hours, Khetal wanted to talk to Lancaeriel.
After her few days away with Cael, Mirania, Lamruil and Miyuki, he suspected that she would be resting with her husband in their room. It was one of the rooms he had never seen before, never having had reason to visit the couple, but he knew which was theirs, just as he knew which room belonged to each of the other residents. Of course, the painting on the door, which had more detail than any of the other paintings in the hall, was another clue.
He knocked on the frame of the door and waited for a reply. It took only a few seconds for the door to slide open, and Cael stood in the doorway. He seemed surprised to see Khetal there, but he smiled widely.
“Oh! Khetal! How can we help you?” he asked cheerily.
“A question, if it’s not too much trouble,” Khetal replied, smiling calmly.
From behind Cael, Lancaeriel appeared, her eyes bright. “Never a trouble,” she said warmly. “Come in.”
Cael stepped aside to allow Khetal into the room. Or rather, rooms. Cael and Lancaeriel were in the middle of a game of Elven Chess, thick, cushy chairs on either side of the table they were using. There were four doors out of the room, in addition to the one to the hallway, and that was something Khetal hadn’t seen before in any of the other rooms.
There was no third chair for sitting, but both Cael and Lancaeriel remained standing so that Khetal wouldn’t be the only one.
“So what can we do for you?” Lancaeriel asked as her husband closed the door once more.
Khetal let out his breath slowly. “I … was wondering if you might help me sometime,” he murmured. “I would like very much to speak with Wren’s father … privately …”
The couple exchanged a knowing look and grinned at each other.
“… but I also don’t want Wren to know about it, and I can’t contact him myself, so I was wondering if you might help me with that sometime when she’s not around,” he concluded, looking from one to the other.
Lancaeriel sighed softly. “As much as I know we both would love to help you out if we could,” she murmured, “it just isn’t possible. Neither of us have either seen or been in Prince Ander’s bedchamber before.”
Khetal’s heart sunk. “Then…”
“We can’t do it for you,” Cael put in quickly, “but we can help you to learn to do it yourself.”
Khetal frowned. “Forgive me, but that’s not possible. I am of mixed blood – I have no magic.”
“No innate magic,” Lancaeriel clarified. “But the fact that you were not born with any magic does not mean that you cannot learn to use what other magic is out there.”
“We won’t debate the fact that it will be more difficult for you than for Wren,” Cael added, “but it is possible.”
“How does that work?” Khetal asked, still doubtful.
Cael and Lancaeriel exchanged a glance. “Well, Shiro would call it genetics, but let’s see if we can simplify it for you.” Cael gestured towards the chairs, and Khetal sat down. Lancaeriel took the other chair, while her husband stood behind it and leaned on the back of it.
“The easiest way to explain it is this,” Lancaeriel began. “Elves are creatures of magic, with magical abilities. Humans are creatures with magic in their blood, but without innate magical abilities. When the two races mix, the properties overlap in predictable ways.”
“Mortality and immortality are the only non-visible things that have an equal chance of being inherited,” Cael went on. “Appearance will vary depending on the parentage, just as with any other child. Typically, though, no innate magic will be inherited – there are a few very rare exceptions, of course, but as I said, very rare. Still, though there is no innate magic, magic can still be learned. Even humans of pure blood can learn to use magic.”
“Trust us,” Lancaeriel grinned. “We spend a long time teaching those who had never expected to be able to use magic.”
Khetal leaned forward in his chair, his fingertips pressed together thoughtfully. “And … other magic as well, then,” he murmured. “I could learn?”
The other smiled. “Yes,” Lancaeriel murmured.
“That being said,” Cael added, “there are also objects that are needed for certain magicks to work. For example, a mirror to communicate with another mirror.”
“So I would need a mirror of my own, if I do not want to raise Wren’s suspicions,” Khetal murmured.
“You could always speak with Andarien,” Lancaeriel suggested. “We’re heading back to the beach soon, and as I recall, glass is made from sand. He’s got plenty of reflective metals to use.”
Khetal looked at her thoughtfully. “You don’t have one that I could borrow?” he asked.
Lancaeriel giggled, her eyes sparkling brightly. “Sorry, no. I have a husband to tell me how I look; I don’t need a mirror for that.”
“Well, it was worth a try,” Khetal chuckled softly. “Thank you. I’ll speak with Andarien and see what he says. I’ll be back, though.”
“Any time,” Cael grinned. “And good luck.”
Year: 119 4A
Status: Late Winter
While Wren was talking with her father, which could potentially take several hours, Khetal wanted to talk to Lancaeriel.
After her few days away with Cael, Mirania, Lamruil and Miyuki, he suspected that she would be resting with her husband in their room. It was one of the rooms he had never seen before, never having had reason to visit the couple, but he knew which was theirs, just as he knew which room belonged to each of the other residents. Of course, the painting on the door, which had more detail than any of the other paintings in the hall, was another clue.
He knocked on the frame of the door and waited for a reply. It took only a few seconds for the door to slide open, and Cael stood in the doorway. He seemed surprised to see Khetal there, but he smiled widely.
“Oh! Khetal! How can we help you?” he asked cheerily.
“A question, if it’s not too much trouble,” Khetal replied, smiling calmly.
From behind Cael, Lancaeriel appeared, her eyes bright. “Never a trouble,” she said warmly. “Come in.”
Cael stepped aside to allow Khetal into the room. Or rather, rooms. Cael and Lancaeriel were in the middle of a game of Elven Chess, thick, cushy chairs on either side of the table they were using. There were four doors out of the room, in addition to the one to the hallway, and that was something Khetal hadn’t seen before in any of the other rooms.
There was no third chair for sitting, but both Cael and Lancaeriel remained standing so that Khetal wouldn’t be the only one.
“So what can we do for you?” Lancaeriel asked as her husband closed the door once more.
Khetal let out his breath slowly. “I … was wondering if you might help me sometime,” he murmured. “I would like very much to speak with Wren’s father … privately …”
The couple exchanged a knowing look and grinned at each other.
“… but I also don’t want Wren to know about it, and I can’t contact him myself, so I was wondering if you might help me with that sometime when she’s not around,” he concluded, looking from one to the other.
Lancaeriel sighed softly. “As much as I know we both would love to help you out if we could,” she murmured, “it just isn’t possible. Neither of us have either seen or been in Prince Ander’s bedchamber before.”
Khetal’s heart sunk. “Then…”
“We can’t do it for you,” Cael put in quickly, “but we can help you to learn to do it yourself.”
Khetal frowned. “Forgive me, but that’s not possible. I am of mixed blood – I have no magic.”
“No innate magic,” Lancaeriel clarified. “But the fact that you were not born with any magic does not mean that you cannot learn to use what other magic is out there.”
“We won’t debate the fact that it will be more difficult for you than for Wren,” Cael added, “but it is possible.”
“How does that work?” Khetal asked, still doubtful.
Cael and Lancaeriel exchanged a glance. “Well, Shiro would call it genetics, but let’s see if we can simplify it for you.” Cael gestured towards the chairs, and Khetal sat down. Lancaeriel took the other chair, while her husband stood behind it and leaned on the back of it.
“The easiest way to explain it is this,” Lancaeriel began. “Elves are creatures of magic, with magical abilities. Humans are creatures with magic in their blood, but without innate magical abilities. When the two races mix, the properties overlap in predictable ways.”
“Mortality and immortality are the only non-visible things that have an equal chance of being inherited,” Cael went on. “Appearance will vary depending on the parentage, just as with any other child. Typically, though, no innate magic will be inherited – there are a few very rare exceptions, of course, but as I said, very rare. Still, though there is no innate magic, magic can still be learned. Even humans of pure blood can learn to use magic.”
“Trust us,” Lancaeriel grinned. “We spend a long time teaching those who had never expected to be able to use magic.”
Khetal leaned forward in his chair, his fingertips pressed together thoughtfully. “And … other magic as well, then,” he murmured. “I could learn?”
The other smiled. “Yes,” Lancaeriel murmured.
“That being said,” Cael added, “there are also objects that are needed for certain magicks to work. For example, a mirror to communicate with another mirror.”
“So I would need a mirror of my own, if I do not want to raise Wren’s suspicions,” Khetal murmured.
“You could always speak with Andarien,” Lancaeriel suggested. “We’re heading back to the beach soon, and as I recall, glass is made from sand. He’s got plenty of reflective metals to use.”
Khetal looked at her thoughtfully. “You don’t have one that I could borrow?” he asked.
Lancaeriel giggled, her eyes sparkling brightly. “Sorry, no. I have a husband to tell me how I look; I don’t need a mirror for that.”
“Well, it was worth a try,” Khetal chuckled softly. “Thank you. I’ll speak with Andarien and see what he says. I’ll be back, though.”
“Any time,” Cael grinned. “And good luck.”
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Re: Wren's Reminscings | 116 4A +
by Nara-pyon Wed Feb 10, 2016 7:31 pm
Location: The Tent, western Keliac, Arkandia
Year: 119 4A
Status: Late Winter
Never one to waste good, Khetal quickly left Lancaeriel and Cael in search of Andarien. He and Shoneah were in the forge room, as expected, but they were not working, which was unexpected. It was rare for them not to be working while they were in there. Then again, Andarien had been injured, so perhaps it shouldn’t have been entirely unexpected that he would be resting.
“Hi, Khetal,” Andarien greeted him when he opened the door. Shoneah was seated on a work bench to the side of the room, her back to the door, but she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled when Andarien greeted him. “Looking for Wren?”
“Actually, no,” Khetal replied, smiling softly.
“Huh,” Shoneah grinned. “I’d have thought that with the way you were acting while she was gone, now that she’s back you would be sticking to her like a burr.”
Khetal chuckled. He wasn’t embarrassed. He knew it was true, and that he had earned the teasing with how he had been acting over the past few weeks. “She’s speaking with her father. The prince looked like he wanted some privacy with her. Which brings me to my reason for wanting to speak to the two of you.”
The elves looked surprised, and Shoneah was the first to mask her emotion. “What can we do for you?” she asked.
Khetal closed the door behind himself, then leaned against it and clasped his hands in front of himself. He explained his desire for a mirror of his own without going into too much detail about why, then asked, “Do you think you could make one?”
“I have no idea how,” Andarien admitted with an apologetic frown.
Shoneah was tapping her lips thoughtfully. “We could ask Shiro,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t imagine they would be too difficult. It’s basically glass and something reflective, right?”
Andarien looked at Khetal curiously. “Why do you want one? I mean, I’ll give it a try, but I’m curious.”
“Mirror communication,” Khetal replied simply. He didn’t add that it was for himself, and he suspected that they wouldn’t guess it was for him because of his mixed blood. Not that it mattered, he supposed, but Andarien didn’t have the tightest lips of the group, and he didn’t want Wren to know about it. At least not yet.
Andarien moved to stand closer to Shoneah, and the two of them spoke together quietly for a few minutes, discussing the logistics of it, and Khetal looked around a bit. The forge had changed since the last time he had been in there, but it looked good. More spacious. More organized.
“We’ll give it a try,” Andarien said suddenly, turning towards Khetal.
Khetal blinked at the suddenness with which he had been addressed, but he rolled with it. “Thank you,” he smiled warmly at the two of them. “I won’t press you for details on how it’s going or how long it might take, but perhaps you could let me know from time to time?”
“Surreptitiously?” Shoneah grinned.
Andarien blinked at her. “Huh?”
Khetal just chuckled. “If that makes it more fun for you, by all means,” he agreed.
“Excellent,” Shoneah beamed. “Then give us a week at least before expecting anything. At least,” she repeated, stressing it.
“A week,” Khetal agreed again. “And thank you.”
Year: 119 4A
Status: Late Winter
Never one to waste good, Khetal quickly left Lancaeriel and Cael in search of Andarien. He and Shoneah were in the forge room, as expected, but they were not working, which was unexpected. It was rare for them not to be working while they were in there. Then again, Andarien had been injured, so perhaps it shouldn’t have been entirely unexpected that he would be resting.
“Hi, Khetal,” Andarien greeted him when he opened the door. Shoneah was seated on a work bench to the side of the room, her back to the door, but she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled when Andarien greeted him. “Looking for Wren?”
“Actually, no,” Khetal replied, smiling softly.
“Huh,” Shoneah grinned. “I’d have thought that with the way you were acting while she was gone, now that she’s back you would be sticking to her like a burr.”
Khetal chuckled. He wasn’t embarrassed. He knew it was true, and that he had earned the teasing with how he had been acting over the past few weeks. “She’s speaking with her father. The prince looked like he wanted some privacy with her. Which brings me to my reason for wanting to speak to the two of you.”
The elves looked surprised, and Shoneah was the first to mask her emotion. “What can we do for you?” she asked.
Khetal closed the door behind himself, then leaned against it and clasped his hands in front of himself. He explained his desire for a mirror of his own without going into too much detail about why, then asked, “Do you think you could make one?”
“I have no idea how,” Andarien admitted with an apologetic frown.
Shoneah was tapping her lips thoughtfully. “We could ask Shiro,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t imagine they would be too difficult. It’s basically glass and something reflective, right?”
Andarien looked at Khetal curiously. “Why do you want one? I mean, I’ll give it a try, but I’m curious.”
“Mirror communication,” Khetal replied simply. He didn’t add that it was for himself, and he suspected that they wouldn’t guess it was for him because of his mixed blood. Not that it mattered, he supposed, but Andarien didn’t have the tightest lips of the group, and he didn’t want Wren to know about it. At least not yet.
Andarien moved to stand closer to Shoneah, and the two of them spoke together quietly for a few minutes, discussing the logistics of it, and Khetal looked around a bit. The forge had changed since the last time he had been in there, but it looked good. More spacious. More organized.
“We’ll give it a try,” Andarien said suddenly, turning towards Khetal.
Khetal blinked at the suddenness with which he had been addressed, but he rolled with it. “Thank you,” he smiled warmly at the two of them. “I won’t press you for details on how it’s going or how long it might take, but perhaps you could let me know from time to time?”
“Surreptitiously?” Shoneah grinned.
Andarien blinked at her. “Huh?”
Khetal just chuckled. “If that makes it more fun for you, by all means,” he agreed.
“Excellent,” Shoneah beamed. “Then give us a week at least before expecting anything. At least,” she repeated, stressing it.
“A week,” Khetal agreed again. “And thank you.”
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Re: Wren's Reminscings | 116 4A +
by Nara-pyon Tue Oct 11, 2016 11:33 pm
Location: The Tent, Makshim, Shiezin, Arkandia
Year: 119 4A
Status: Early Stirring
Weeks had passed since Khetal had received a mirror from Andarien and Shoneah, but he had been spending so much time with Wren that he hadn’t really had the chance to take Cael and Lancaeriel up on their offer to teach him how to use the mirror to contact Wren’s father. But now that they had settled in one place again, Wren had headed out for a hunt with Daeron for the day, and Khetal wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to see if he might learn to access and use the magic that – supposedly – resided inside of him.
Cael was painting, and insisted that Lancaeriel was the much better teacher of the two of them, so Khetal now found himself sitting in Lancaeriel’s study, in a seat directly across from her. She had pulled her own chair around from behind her desk so that there would be nothing between them. It was a little disconcerting for Khetal. He was sitting up straight and looking at her, but she was leaning forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, fingertips pressing together, her chin resting lightly atop them.
“Have you ever had a time when you were so filled with emotion,” she was asking him, “that you felt something welling up inside of you that you weren’t sure you could control? Something beyond muscular tenseness. Something not even physical.”
Khetal looked around absently as he thought about it. Thinking of times of strong emotions wasn’t difficult. Watching his parents die. Panic when he was taken by the Polerians. Panic when he was told his sister had died. The overwhelming ecstasy of finding out that she was still alive. The way he felt when Wren was out, or when she came back. When he spent time with her. When he considered his hopes for their future together.
But did he feel something uncontrollable inside himself?
Before he could speak, though, Lancaeriel interrupted his thoughts. “How much do you want to be able to do this?”
He looked at her evenly, determination surging through him. “If there is any possibility, I will do it.”
She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling suddenly. “There. That’s it. I felt it. You find that determination, and you focus on it, and you let it grow inside you until it’s something you can feel in your hands, something tangible.”
Khetal nodded slowly, but he still wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. All he felt was determination – that feeling deep down inside that he wanted to do this very badly, and wasn’t going to give up until he managed it. And that wasn’t magic, was it? And even if it was, how would he know when he had succeeded?
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to ask, but Lancaeriel frowned, her brow furrowing.
“You’re losing it,” she cautioned him.
Khetal felt his face warming. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to hold onto. What will it feel like when I’ve got it? How will I know I’m ready to use it?”
Lancaeriel pursed her lips and touched her fingers to her mouth. Holding up one finger to him, she rose from her chair and moved around to the other side of her desk. She pulled out a drawer and rummaged around inside it, and after a moment she pulled out what looked like a large purple marble.
“Here,” she said, returning to her chair and holding the marble out to Khetal. “This is something Cael and I concocted for humans. One thing we don’t have experience in is not knowing when our magic is active in us when we’re trying to access it. I must admit, it is an advantage of being elven. Using magic does come far more easily, more effortlessly, than for humans.”
Khetal took the marble from her and was surprised at how heavy it was. “What does it do?”
“It glows.” She smiled and reached forward, touching the marble with one finger. Almost instantaneously, the spot flared a bright yellow, and only faded when Lancaeriel removed her finger from it once more. “We decided to go with light to help train humans in sensing when their magic is active. It wasn’t the only idea we considered … we thought of making it grow lighter, or warmer, or changing the texture … but then we thought that if the humans came to rely on external indicators of their magic being active, they would never be able to control it fully.”
“So when it glows, my magic is active,” Khetal said to clarify.
Lancaeriel nodded. “And eventually, the idea is that you will summon your magic with your eyes closed. Feel it for yourself, and only use the sphere for confirmation one way or the other, and then eventually just know instinctively when you are using magic, so that you won’t need the sphere at all.”
She nodded at the marble. “Cup it in your hands. Now this time, when you think about your determination to speak with Wren’s father and watch what happens.”
Khetal did as he was told. He cupped the sphere loosely in his hands and stared at it. He tried to will back the determination he had felt earlier, watching the sphere as he did so.
Nothing happened.
“You’re focusing on the sphere, not yourself,” Lancaeriel murmured in an amused tone. “Forget about the sphere for a moment, and I will ask you again.”
Khetal looked up at her, meeting her gaze.
“How determined are you to achieve this?” she asked him quietly, as serious as he had ever seen her.
Equally serious, without hesitation, he replied, “I will do this.”
He continued to look at her, but her eyes flickered briefly towards the sphere in his hands before she met his gaze once more.
“Not if you don’t care enough,” she said simply.
Khetal felt a prickle of anger surge through him. How dare she say that he didn’t care about this? Of course he did!
“I will do this,” he repeated emphatically. “Don’t ever question that.”
Suddenly he realized that Lancaeriel was smiling knowingly at him, and he blinked and looked down at the sphere in his hands – just in time to see a pale yellow light fading from sight. He looked back up at the former druidess, feeling a sense of pride.
“Not a terrible start,” she nodded, still smiling. She sat up straight again. “I’m going to give you some homework, I think. Since you’re using the sphere, you can try it on your own for a bit. See if you can’t get it to glow without me goading you.”
She rose and winked at him. “Bring it back to me and we’ll take the next step when you can make it glow at will.”
“And if that doesn’t happen?” Khetal asked practically, rising as well.
Lancaeriel eyed him thoughtfully. For a moment, she was silent; but then she smiled again. “If it takes you longer than a week, come back,” she told him. Then, with a confident grin, she added, “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you sooner than that, though.”
Khetal wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t argue with her. He just thanked her, bid her a good day, and left.
Year: 119 4A
Status: Early Stirring
Weeks had passed since Khetal had received a mirror from Andarien and Shoneah, but he had been spending so much time with Wren that he hadn’t really had the chance to take Cael and Lancaeriel up on their offer to teach him how to use the mirror to contact Wren’s father. But now that they had settled in one place again, Wren had headed out for a hunt with Daeron for the day, and Khetal wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to see if he might learn to access and use the magic that – supposedly – resided inside of him.
Cael was painting, and insisted that Lancaeriel was the much better teacher of the two of them, so Khetal now found himself sitting in Lancaeriel’s study, in a seat directly across from her. She had pulled her own chair around from behind her desk so that there would be nothing between them. It was a little disconcerting for Khetal. He was sitting up straight and looking at her, but she was leaning forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, fingertips pressing together, her chin resting lightly atop them.
“Have you ever had a time when you were so filled with emotion,” she was asking him, “that you felt something welling up inside of you that you weren’t sure you could control? Something beyond muscular tenseness. Something not even physical.”
Khetal looked around absently as he thought about it. Thinking of times of strong emotions wasn’t difficult. Watching his parents die. Panic when he was taken by the Polerians. Panic when he was told his sister had died. The overwhelming ecstasy of finding out that she was still alive. The way he felt when Wren was out, or when she came back. When he spent time with her. When he considered his hopes for their future together.
But did he feel something uncontrollable inside himself?
Before he could speak, though, Lancaeriel interrupted his thoughts. “How much do you want to be able to do this?”
He looked at her evenly, determination surging through him. “If there is any possibility, I will do it.”
She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling suddenly. “There. That’s it. I felt it. You find that determination, and you focus on it, and you let it grow inside you until it’s something you can feel in your hands, something tangible.”
Khetal nodded slowly, but he still wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. All he felt was determination – that feeling deep down inside that he wanted to do this very badly, and wasn’t going to give up until he managed it. And that wasn’t magic, was it? And even if it was, how would he know when he had succeeded?
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to ask, but Lancaeriel frowned, her brow furrowing.
“You’re losing it,” she cautioned him.
Khetal felt his face warming. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to hold onto. What will it feel like when I’ve got it? How will I know I’m ready to use it?”
Lancaeriel pursed her lips and touched her fingers to her mouth. Holding up one finger to him, she rose from her chair and moved around to the other side of her desk. She pulled out a drawer and rummaged around inside it, and after a moment she pulled out what looked like a large purple marble.
“Here,” she said, returning to her chair and holding the marble out to Khetal. “This is something Cael and I concocted for humans. One thing we don’t have experience in is not knowing when our magic is active in us when we’re trying to access it. I must admit, it is an advantage of being elven. Using magic does come far more easily, more effortlessly, than for humans.”
Khetal took the marble from her and was surprised at how heavy it was. “What does it do?”
“It glows.” She smiled and reached forward, touching the marble with one finger. Almost instantaneously, the spot flared a bright yellow, and only faded when Lancaeriel removed her finger from it once more. “We decided to go with light to help train humans in sensing when their magic is active. It wasn’t the only idea we considered … we thought of making it grow lighter, or warmer, or changing the texture … but then we thought that if the humans came to rely on external indicators of their magic being active, they would never be able to control it fully.”
“So when it glows, my magic is active,” Khetal said to clarify.
Lancaeriel nodded. “And eventually, the idea is that you will summon your magic with your eyes closed. Feel it for yourself, and only use the sphere for confirmation one way or the other, and then eventually just know instinctively when you are using magic, so that you won’t need the sphere at all.”
She nodded at the marble. “Cup it in your hands. Now this time, when you think about your determination to speak with Wren’s father and watch what happens.”
Khetal did as he was told. He cupped the sphere loosely in his hands and stared at it. He tried to will back the determination he had felt earlier, watching the sphere as he did so.
Nothing happened.
“You’re focusing on the sphere, not yourself,” Lancaeriel murmured in an amused tone. “Forget about the sphere for a moment, and I will ask you again.”
Khetal looked up at her, meeting her gaze.
“How determined are you to achieve this?” she asked him quietly, as serious as he had ever seen her.
Equally serious, without hesitation, he replied, “I will do this.”
He continued to look at her, but her eyes flickered briefly towards the sphere in his hands before she met his gaze once more.
“Not if you don’t care enough,” she said simply.
Khetal felt a prickle of anger surge through him. How dare she say that he didn’t care about this? Of course he did!
“I will do this,” he repeated emphatically. “Don’t ever question that.”
Suddenly he realized that Lancaeriel was smiling knowingly at him, and he blinked and looked down at the sphere in his hands – just in time to see a pale yellow light fading from sight. He looked back up at the former druidess, feeling a sense of pride.
“Not a terrible start,” she nodded, still smiling. She sat up straight again. “I’m going to give you some homework, I think. Since you’re using the sphere, you can try it on your own for a bit. See if you can’t get it to glow without me goading you.”
She rose and winked at him. “Bring it back to me and we’ll take the next step when you can make it glow at will.”
“And if that doesn’t happen?” Khetal asked practically, rising as well.
Lancaeriel eyed him thoughtfully. For a moment, she was silent; but then she smiled again. “If it takes you longer than a week, come back,” she told him. Then, with a confident grin, she added, “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you sooner than that, though.”
Khetal wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t argue with her. He just thanked her, bid her a good day, and left.
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Re: Wren's Reminscings | 116 4A +
by Nara-pyon Mon Oct 24, 2016 7:09 pm
Location: The Tent, Makshim, Shiezin, Arkandia
Year: 119 4A
Status: Early Stirring
Days passed. Khetal spent every moment he was alone with the magical sphere, trying to access the magic that he knew now he had somewhere inside of him, but since his original success – or at least, partial success – with Lancaeriel, he hadn’t managed to make the sphere glow, even just a bit.
Sighing heavily, he returned it to the pouch he’d taken to keeping it in and pulled the drawstrings tight before slipping the pouch into his pocket.
“Working hard or hardly working?” Cael’s voice came suddenly from behind him.
Khetal jumped despite himself and whirled away from his lab bench. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his heart racing.
Cael chuckled and stepped closer. “Just seeing how you’re making do with using magic.” He eyed Khetal’s pocket meaningfully. “Doesn’t look like it’s going well.”
“How astute of you.” Khetal pulled the pouch from his pocket and tossed it to Cael.
Cael wasn’t quite ready, and he fumbled with it before catching it. “Careful!” he exclaimed. “You’ve no idea how much work went into this!” Frowning, he closed the distance between himself and Khetal, opening the pouch as he did so, and thrust it back into the other man’s hand.
“I can’t get it to work,” Khetal snapped, pushing the sphere away from himself again. It was the first time in ages – longer than he could remember – that he had lost his temper, but he was so frustrated that he didn’t care at the moment.
“Only because you’re thinking too much!” Cael shot back at him, not much calmer. He grabbed Khetal’s hand and pushed the sphere into it, closing the man’s fingers around it. “Now stop being so intellectual. Magic isn’t something you think about – not at first, and especially not for half-bloods.”
His frustration only growing, Khetal struggled against Cael’s grip to open his fingers and rid himself of the source of his anger. “I – don’t – want –it!” he grunted, straining at the younger man’s hand.
Suddenly, with a grin, Cael let go, startling Khetal so much that he nearly fell back. His grip loosened on the sphere, and a bright yellow light shone out from between his fingers. He stared, shocked, at the light, and even as he did so, the light faded – slowly at first, but then suddenly, until the purple sphere was dull once more.
Stunned, Khetal looked at Cael, silent.
Cael just grinned at him. “You’re sure you don’t want it?” he asked tauntingly.
“How …”
“Emotion.” Cael folded his arms across his chest. His smile was almost a smirk. “You were plenty angry – with it, with me … but it translated itself into magic. Now see if you can’t do that by conjuring up some other emotion – anger is the worst one to rely on. Or one of the worst emotions to rely on, anyways.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You’re not exactly the most emotional man. What emotion do you think is the strongest you have?”
Khetal looked from Cael to the sphere in his hand and back to Cael. “Love,” he said quietly but firmly. There was no hesitation in his voice, no embarrassment.
Cael’s smile widened and grew warmer. “Perfect,” he murmured. “That is the kind of magic that can be relied upon. Now try again.”
Khetal looked down at the sphere in his hands and loosened his grip so that it was sitting in his open palm. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as he always did when he wanted to clear his mind for a specific task. Then he focused his thoughts on love. What it was. What it meant to him. What it-
The sphere remained inert, unchanged.
“You’re intellectualizing it,” Cael said softly. “Don’t think about it. Feel it.”
Ah …
Khetal let his breath out again and tried to relax. This time, instead of thinking about love, he thought about Wren. Their time together. Their talks. The way she smiled at him. The way she made him feel …
The sphere in his hand began to glow.
… the way he felt so alive when he was with her. How she made him feel like everything was all right, even when there were questions about what was going on around them. The feeling that he wanted to protect her, no matter what …
The glow intensified.
Khetal looked at the sphere, his eyes filled with wonder, and then looked at Cael. “Why was I having so much trouble before?” he murmured.
“Because you were listening to my wife,” Cael said shortly, grinning. “As I said before, she tends to forget what it’s like helping humans for the first time. And she’s so full of emotion that she has no trouble making it intellectual for herself. I couldn’t love her more, but she can forget sometimes how some people struggle.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to leave in a slow, sauntering gait. “It might be time to take that next step, though,” he called over his shoulder as he left.
Year: 119 4A
Status: Early Stirring
Days passed. Khetal spent every moment he was alone with the magical sphere, trying to access the magic that he knew now he had somewhere inside of him, but since his original success – or at least, partial success – with Lancaeriel, he hadn’t managed to make the sphere glow, even just a bit.
Sighing heavily, he returned it to the pouch he’d taken to keeping it in and pulled the drawstrings tight before slipping the pouch into his pocket.
“Working hard or hardly working?” Cael’s voice came suddenly from behind him.
Khetal jumped despite himself and whirled away from his lab bench. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his heart racing.
Cael chuckled and stepped closer. “Just seeing how you’re making do with using magic.” He eyed Khetal’s pocket meaningfully. “Doesn’t look like it’s going well.”
“How astute of you.” Khetal pulled the pouch from his pocket and tossed it to Cael.
Cael wasn’t quite ready, and he fumbled with it before catching it. “Careful!” he exclaimed. “You’ve no idea how much work went into this!” Frowning, he closed the distance between himself and Khetal, opening the pouch as he did so, and thrust it back into the other man’s hand.
“I can’t get it to work,” Khetal snapped, pushing the sphere away from himself again. It was the first time in ages – longer than he could remember – that he had lost his temper, but he was so frustrated that he didn’t care at the moment.
“Only because you’re thinking too much!” Cael shot back at him, not much calmer. He grabbed Khetal’s hand and pushed the sphere into it, closing the man’s fingers around it. “Now stop being so intellectual. Magic isn’t something you think about – not at first, and especially not for half-bloods.”
His frustration only growing, Khetal struggled against Cael’s grip to open his fingers and rid himself of the source of his anger. “I – don’t – want –it!” he grunted, straining at the younger man’s hand.
Suddenly, with a grin, Cael let go, startling Khetal so much that he nearly fell back. His grip loosened on the sphere, and a bright yellow light shone out from between his fingers. He stared, shocked, at the light, and even as he did so, the light faded – slowly at first, but then suddenly, until the purple sphere was dull once more.
Stunned, Khetal looked at Cael, silent.
Cael just grinned at him. “You’re sure you don’t want it?” he asked tauntingly.
“How …”
“Emotion.” Cael folded his arms across his chest. His smile was almost a smirk. “You were plenty angry – with it, with me … but it translated itself into magic. Now see if you can’t do that by conjuring up some other emotion – anger is the worst one to rely on. Or one of the worst emotions to rely on, anyways.”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You’re not exactly the most emotional man. What emotion do you think is the strongest you have?”
Khetal looked from Cael to the sphere in his hand and back to Cael. “Love,” he said quietly but firmly. There was no hesitation in his voice, no embarrassment.
Cael’s smile widened and grew warmer. “Perfect,” he murmured. “That is the kind of magic that can be relied upon. Now try again.”
Khetal looked down at the sphere in his hands and loosened his grip so that it was sitting in his open palm. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as he always did when he wanted to clear his mind for a specific task. Then he focused his thoughts on love. What it was. What it meant to him. What it-
The sphere remained inert, unchanged.
“You’re intellectualizing it,” Cael said softly. “Don’t think about it. Feel it.”
Ah …
Khetal let his breath out again and tried to relax. This time, instead of thinking about love, he thought about Wren. Their time together. Their talks. The way she smiled at him. The way she made him feel …
The sphere in his hand began to glow.
… the way he felt so alive when he was with her. How she made him feel like everything was all right, even when there were questions about what was going on around them. The feeling that he wanted to protect her, no matter what …
The glow intensified.
Khetal looked at the sphere, his eyes filled with wonder, and then looked at Cael. “Why was I having so much trouble before?” he murmured.
“Because you were listening to my wife,” Cael said shortly, grinning. “As I said before, she tends to forget what it’s like helping humans for the first time. And she’s so full of emotion that she has no trouble making it intellectual for herself. I couldn’t love her more, but she can forget sometimes how some people struggle.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to leave in a slow, sauntering gait. “It might be time to take that next step, though,” he called over his shoulder as he left.
Nara-pyon- Admin
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Age : 39
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