Almalexia. (arithmeticks) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-12-05 14:36:00 |
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“You needn’t be so anxious, Millie.” “Not anxious, Father.” The sentinel threw Amos a grin. “Excited.” “Even so, it would not do to overwhelm her.” The Blades’ newest recruit was practically bouncing on her feet, as though ready to spin circles around the hapless kaplan. But, foreign as it was to Amos, such feminine exuberance was one of two reasons why he had chosen the sentinel for this demonstration. The other, of course, appeared to be the very reason Sir Kurere was in such high spirits. “Really,” Millie continued, waving off his concerns with a flick of her wrist, “It’s a right shame I haven’t met her yet. Balder is always going on about—” The creak of the door interrupted the woman mid-speech, although she did not seem to mind the disturbance overmuch. Like a bird alighting upon its perch, sentinel descended upon mage with a bright smile. “Good evening,” she chirped merrily. Behind her, Amos let loose a sigh. “Almalexia,” the priest began, gliding up to the pair. “This is Sir Millie Kurere. She is one of the gardists—” “She is,” the Blade interrupted, “very, truly pleased to make your acquaintance.” As the two Blades quickly descended upon the emerging mage, Lex attempted valiantly to not appear entirely startled by the immediate maneuver in her direction. However, she had not expected additional company that evening, let alone anyone so immediately exuberant. “And I as well, of course,” she replied, offering a handshake to the taller woman. A number of questions immediately arose as Lex assessed her, such as why the gardist was invited to a study between mages. “It is good to see...the both of you,” she said, stepping inside the room. Lex looked expectantly at the two, wondering how this demonstration was going to be enacted. “I had hoped a more practical demonstration might be useful to you,” Amos said. While most demonstrations might have involved gems and similar apparati, it was a rare but not unheard-of practice to observe the way synergistic magicks might manifest itself in an actual combatant. A combatant so esteemed as a Blade, even rarer and more informative. In more ways than one, for this particular student. The priest nodded at Millie, who immediately stepped back and gestured toward the center of the room. A massive anvil stood incongruous to its academic surroundings, no doubt Floated into the space one way or another. “See, I’m around to look pretty and lift things, apparently,” the sentinel said, wrapping a hand around the anvil’s horn and tugging. It did not budge. “With magical help, of course. Even I can’t manage it one-armed.” In a conspiratorial stage whisper was added, “And neither can the korporal, overlarge lout that he is.” Amos cleared his throat. “What is your understanding of Bravery thus far, Almalexia?” “Entirely academic,” she admitted, the mage’s attention lingering toward the Blade and the anvil. Lex held back signs of amusement at her joke, but her interest in learning about this particular woman had perhaps now risen slightly. Remembering herself quickly, she turned back to the kaplan with a contemplative look. “Until this meeting, of course. I believe I am quite ready to advance to the next step in learning.” The research had been challenging but rewarding, as synergist magic--while similar in part to the white magic spells she had already learned, was rather its own distinct breed of spellcasting. “Shall I proceed then?” “Of course,” Amos said. The priest stepped back, hands folded carefully over one another. While he doubted this would be so difficult a venture as with Merrion, who by his own admission struggled greatly with supportive magicks, he was also reasonably skeptical of what the arithmetician could accomplish in the immediate jump from theory to practice. Nevertheless, a wave of the hand was afforded the sentinel. Millie crouched down in response, grip tightening over the horn. She shot Lex a grin (too cheeky by far, Amos thought wryly). “Do your worst, love.” “If you insist,” Lex said in reply (clearly not affected at all by such behavior, of course). The mage cleared her throat and redirected her concentration to spell-casting. Already she had begun devising an algorithm for this particular spell, the bare-bones beginning of what would someday, hopefully, be a useful addition to her growing inventory of magic. Breaking apart a spell and uncovering its secrets by way of arithmetick was something of a habit by now, however, and her approach to study and casting reflected that same careful, analytic nature. Incantation memorized, she repeated what she had learned by book and aimed her spell at the Blade. Whether this first attempt would prove successful or not, she knew, would be left for Father Luscini and the gardist to determine. Once finished, she gave them both a vague expression and attempted not to hold her breath. The sentinel breathed in, pulled—the anvil rose an inch, two, off the ground, before Millie set it down with a shuddering exhale. Amos raised his eyebrows, although the moment of naked surprise was quickly schooled. “Satisfactory,” he said. “But too tightly bound, Almalexia. Bravery is a spell that breathes, as it were. Primal.” Amos spread his arms in emphasis, before offering the younger mage a tilt of the head. “Shall we try again?” Primal? Lex attempted not to frown at her now rather obvious failure. She nodded along compliantly, careful not to disagree with the (far more experienced) kaplan about his assertion, and prepared herself to attempt the spell once again. “Yes, Father,” she said, taking a moment to inspect the gardist and the anvil once again. She was determined to see this effort realized properly. But how? Lex considered the kaplan’s particular phrasing and, after thorough examination, conjured the most appropriately image of “primal” in her thoughts. Rictor Cassul stomping out of the bathroom half-naked like some barbarian and sputtering accusations about shower usage applied well enough it seemed, and this time she emulated a smaller facsimile of this image when uttering the incantation. Slightly more forceful and commanding, and hopefully what the kaplan considered to be “primal” (was this the way with all synergist magic, she wondered?), Lex attempted the incantation once again. And so too did Millie once more attempt to lift the anvil. With a startled cry, she held the apparatus aloft. The anvil reached her waist before she paused, carefully guiding it back to the floor. “Much impr—” “Fantastic!” The sentinel laughed, winking at Lex before tossing the kaplan a playful waggle of the eyebrows. “At least I think so, Father.” “Improved, most certainly,” Amos said. Some adjustments would have to be made to the algorithm, he thought to himself, but such was not a matter for which he was equipped to advise her. (If he was duly impressed, it was not readily apparent.) Lex wasn’t entirely certain how to address (the gardist’s cheerful outburst, or the kaplan’s restrained observation?) her apparent success at the very least, and so she took a quiet moment to consider the divergent methods of her second attempt, nodding her head as a solemn reply (and a stark contrast to the energy exerted just a moment before). It was quite obvious to her now that she would need to reassess all notes prior to this engagement, and rearrange the numbers accordingly. The mage settled into her own thoughts before speaking up. “Shall I practice once again?” “The casting room is ours for the remainder of the hour,” the priest replied, green eyes cool as they assessed her. Even more so when put against the gardist’s bubbling verve, and indeed Millie had already resumed her position by the anvil, crouched low and grinning wide. Another minute ticked by on the brass clock overhead. “Whenever you’re ready, Almalexia,” Amos said. |