wolfe. (abstention) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-05-10 23:49:00 |
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Standing by one of the slowly-healing wounds in the earth around the Tower, Toku Matsudaira fought to fend off the insidious shroud of normalcy that was beginning to settle over the area. Where the damage caused by the attack had been particularly great, the sight of reconstruction teams and traffic being diverted through side-streets was becoming part of the city’s daily routine; no longer something worthy of comment, except for perhaps the angry whispering of those who blamed the Mages’ Guild at large for the tragedy. Yet many members of that same guild were to be found where the damage to the earth was direst, a well-organised team of geomancers (some of them still showing residual signs of recent injury) examining every breach in the ground beneath their feet the way a white mage may inspect a wound on a flesh-and-blood patient. The dead feeling that had permeated the earth around the hole in the Nobles’ District two months prior was still present around the Tower, though it was beginning to dull and fade, enough that when Toku reached out it was not like placing a hand on the cold body of a corpse, but gently nudging a person waking from a deep slumber. That alone was cause for relief, and hope that the city could recover as its soil was. Beside him, Wilham Wolfe was another one of the team, stepping around the devastation and picking at it with his magical capabilities. Finally, there was a sense of doing good, rather than his arsenal of powers suited only for black magic, for flaying skin from bone and ripping apart enemies—this was a different breed of magic, gentler, more interested in repair than ruin. The Tower still felt distinctly wrong (though how much of that was the monster’s effect versus the memories of the actual attack, well, that was up for debate), but with their team chipping away at the damage, it was improving. Standing at the front of the line, fierce concentration was painted across Wolfe’s face as piles of rocks floated through the air, clearing the street and filling various gaping holes that had opened up. Two other mages stood beside him, ready to toss out a gravitational field and catch the rocks in case his focus faltered and the boulders dropped. Toku paced beyond him, a wary lion watching the state of his pride, directing the geomancers across the field. Finally, the ground rumbled as another fissure was sealed up: rock falling into the pit, earth sealing up the space above it, solidifying. Wolfe dusted off his hands, stretched out his aching back, felt his manna reserves, and then returned to his mentor as the other mages disappeared to their other assigned tasks. “Another?” he asked politely, like a child requesting seconds. “Certainly there is no shortage of them,” Toku replied, a wry quirk of his lips to bring him back to the present situation, away from the distorted sense of dejà-vu at seeing Wolfe levitating boulders, as Toku had been the day they had met. A Time Mage and a newly-arrived scholar, now walking the same path after so many years. His own repairs were not as flashy; like stitches on flesh, he gently brought the edges of a breach together. They were like deformed puzzle pieces that no longer fit, and it was not in his hand to regenerate the earth that had been turned to ash, but it would be enough for the workers to pave over, returning the road to its former state. A slower process than directly filling the hole with rocks, but Toku had no complaints to voice; he had always preferred the slow but steady path, forced into a hectic lifestyle by his station and making the most of what few moments of calm he was allowed. As the breach slowly healed before their eyes, Toku continued his earlier sentence to his fellow geomancer. “You may take your pick, if you’ve a preference.” “They’re all the same, really. Damage is damage and we’ll be healing it either way.” The younger geomancer looked out across the street, but then evidently made his choice: he located a toppled building, touching the fallen beams, wood and brick. It had been part of nature once; it was no longer, but the echoes of that energy still remained, the ghosts of felled trees and fire-baked earthen clay humming through all the buildings and city around them. “That one,” Wolfe said (making up his mind for once), and so reached for the remains of the building. The magic was fragile and tenuous, much harder than summoning the strength of strangling vines and living bark—but it was doable. The whole thing would need to be torn down, the walls cleared in order to rebuild anew. “Finding myself glad I chose this class now,” he said, As Wolfe worked, Toku observed with the quiet pride of a teacher witnessing the growth of his student, though they never had been such, not officially. When he spoke it was with an undercurrent of amusement, still careful not to break Wolfe’s concentration as a breeze might still to avoid rustling the leaves of a tree. “Are you acquiring a taste for construction work, perhaps? If so, now may be the right time to make the change―you would not be hurting for work.” “True enough,” Wolfe said, and there was even a weary laugh brimming under his voice. (He’d lost old colleagues from the Tower but no close friends; he counted his blessings every day, bowed his head to Faram to accept his new relative good fortune.) “It seems the city will be under construction for all eternity, from the looks of things. With so many shops and vendors out of business due to the loss of their storefronts, I assume builders will be the only ones not suffering.” The wood creaked, an agonised groan like a living creature in pain. Both men stepped back as Wolfe brought another wall down, crashing in a splintering screech and raising cloudfuls of dust. Taking a break to regain his breath, he glanced over to Toku. “And you’re making a bit of a change, too, from the sounds of things.” He already knew who would receive his vote for Sage: there was no doubt about it. The initial reaction to the certainty in Wolfe’s statement was a reprobatory glance, soon replaced by a sigh. “Perhaps so,” Toku said. “It cannot be certain until the votes are cast, but whichever way it goes, the seat cannot remain vacant at such a critical time for our Guild.” The man next to him was one of the few he did not mind discussing the election with; with him, his words and actions were not questioned as a bid for the position of Sage, as they would be by the public at large. Toku had spent many years on the Council, had borne the power and authority granted by that position as a necessary evil if he wanted to do some good. If he rose to fill the current vacancy, it would be out of a sense of duty, not a thirst for power; though that was a possibility that belonged in the future, to be contemplated only once the election came to an end, if at all. Wolfe looked at the mage beside him, taking in the details of the man. Toku had always wearily accepted his position in life: with the very opposite of eagerness, simply taking everything as a matter of course, as if the tides had swept him towards and to his appointed task. It was a mentality Wolfe could admire. (Greed and exulting in power was what had brought Wolfe so low, after all.) “You’d be a good fit,” he said stubbornly, his conviction as solid as the ground on which they now stood. “The guild needs a strong, trustworthy figurehead to hold it together. You’re that.” Where those words may have sounded like flattery from others, coming from Wolfe there was no doubt that they were anything but genuine. Toku acknowledged that honesty with a nod of his head. "I shall attempt to be, whether as Sage or Councilor," he said. He watched the last of the building crumble to the ground, toppled by the invisible push of Wolfe's magic. As he did, a realisation struck that this was the first time he had witnessed Wolfe's budding geomancy skills in action in some time. There was a touch more certainty in his hold now; he had improved. "Whichever way the election goes," he said, "I suspect I will be spending a fair amount of time indoors, until the Guild regains its footing." Such was the one aspect of his job that saddened him--more than ever now that the weather was beginning to change--but his tone was wry. "I may delegate the task of finding pleasant meditation spots on you, Wilham." “I would accept such a heavy burden gladly,” Wolfe said, half-joking. The first name still sounded odd sometimes, caught at stray moments from others’ lips, but if there was anyone accustomed to it, it would be Toku and Peony. “I’m looking forward to spring fully sinking in, as well—I can finally practice Tanglevine properly. Ever more cause to learn more spells, these days.” Toku acknowledged this with a nod. "Diligent as ever." If there was any trace of amusement in his words, born of pride or fondness or the dregs of long acquaintance, then it would be only for the man beside him to notice, to catch a glimpse and smile in return as the remainders of the building's structure crumbled to the ground before them. |