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Title: set up
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Isael
Prompt: 032 "Sunset"
Word Count: 647
Rating: G
Notes: follows this almost immediately.
After a long moment, he forced himself to stop staring at the disk, shaking his head a few times to clear his thoughts.
"You'd think I'd know by now not to be surprised by anything he does," he said aloud, listening to the way the space resonated to his voice.
He nearly spoke again, voice dropped to a lower register, when he caught himself, took a deep breath, and pulled out the card to the rock near the Keep.
*
It took nearly an hour to hike back down to the city, another to find merchants who could key deliveries. He didn't snap at the oldest merchant--the one he settled on in place of combining two or more--a tiny dragon-faced woman dressed in bright-embroidered silks who teased that he must be picking up things for a new mage-master, buying a week's food without keys of his own. Stood out of her way as she bounced around her shop, half-rolling a glass jar of honey in his off hand.
She pulled things out of nooks and crannies he'd not have thought could hold the amount they apparently did, talking to him the while in slightly-too-fast-to-parse sentences.
She added a bag of root vegetables and four onions to the stack of sealed earthenware and tinted-glass jars on her counter before she briskly took the honey out of his hand and flicked her fingers for his key. Expertly triggered it and transferred the goods without physically stepping through the space herself, then flipped the card through her fingers, grinning triumphantly, as he pulled out coins.
He paid her in silver, shirked her the smile she asked as gratuity, which she took as easily as anything else, pretending to hold his key hostage for a moment before returning it.
*
Hiking back towards the much-eroded mountain, he considered stopping in the Keep to collect a few changes of clothes and soap, then considered the questions that would raise and turned back to stop at one of the shops that took coin, trinket, or Trickwood-branded honey for payment. Bought clothing for three days, and cold-water washing soap for four, accepted a leather-scrap bag to carry his purchases in, and went out again.
It was choice, and he knew it, to walk all the way back to the rock instead of popping out as soon as he was out of the city, back to the now stockable kitchen and a listening silence.
It was choice, too, that made him change his mind halfway up the trail, when the sun slipped behind the treeline and he couldn't differentiate the spaces between the trees from the trees themselves. There was being stubborn, and then there was being an idiot, and he was fond of the notion that he wasn't the latter.
*
The sun was gone from the windows of the kitchen, too, the room painted with faint mage-light tracings on the edges of table, counters and cold-box to aid midnight snackers. He set the bag on the table, leaned down to pull off his boots and pad around in his sockfeet.
He wished briefly for light as he crossed to the counter with the supplies, and was startled when a strip of the base supporting the upper cabinets started glowing bright enough to see by. Waited for the headache to set in--milder than he was used to--then put the food and goods away. The soap went into the washing-room, along with a thin blanket he stripped from the bed to use as a towel, and, finished settling (as much as he was going to be), he found himself at a bit of a loss of what to do.
Sat, eventually, in the kitchen chair across from the one by his boots, set his gently aching head in his hand, and reached out, thinking of notes and the resonant silences between them.
’Verse/characters: Wild Roses; Isael
Prompt: 032 "Sunset"
Word Count: 647
Rating: G
Notes: follows this almost immediately.
After a long moment, he forced himself to stop staring at the disk, shaking his head a few times to clear his thoughts.
"You'd think I'd know by now not to be surprised by anything he does," he said aloud, listening to the way the space resonated to his voice.
He nearly spoke again, voice dropped to a lower register, when he caught himself, took a deep breath, and pulled out the card to the rock near the Keep.
*
It took nearly an hour to hike back down to the city, another to find merchants who could key deliveries. He didn't snap at the oldest merchant--the one he settled on in place of combining two or more--a tiny dragon-faced woman dressed in bright-embroidered silks who teased that he must be picking up things for a new mage-master, buying a week's food without keys of his own. Stood out of her way as she bounced around her shop, half-rolling a glass jar of honey in his off hand.
She pulled things out of nooks and crannies he'd not have thought could hold the amount they apparently did, talking to him the while in slightly-too-fast-to-parse sentences.
She added a bag of root vegetables and four onions to the stack of sealed earthenware and tinted-glass jars on her counter before she briskly took the honey out of his hand and flicked her fingers for his key. Expertly triggered it and transferred the goods without physically stepping through the space herself, then flipped the card through her fingers, grinning triumphantly, as he pulled out coins.
He paid her in silver, shirked her the smile she asked as gratuity, which she took as easily as anything else, pretending to hold his key hostage for a moment before returning it.
*
Hiking back towards the much-eroded mountain, he considered stopping in the Keep to collect a few changes of clothes and soap, then considered the questions that would raise and turned back to stop at one of the shops that took coin, trinket, or Trickwood-branded honey for payment. Bought clothing for three days, and cold-water washing soap for four, accepted a leather-scrap bag to carry his purchases in, and went out again.
It was choice, and he knew it, to walk all the way back to the rock instead of popping out as soon as he was out of the city, back to the now stockable kitchen and a listening silence.
It was choice, too, that made him change his mind halfway up the trail, when the sun slipped behind the treeline and he couldn't differentiate the spaces between the trees from the trees themselves. There was being stubborn, and then there was being an idiot, and he was fond of the notion that he wasn't the latter.
*
The sun was gone from the windows of the kitchen, too, the room painted with faint mage-light tracings on the edges of table, counters and cold-box to aid midnight snackers. He set the bag on the table, leaned down to pull off his boots and pad around in his sockfeet.
He wished briefly for light as he crossed to the counter with the supplies, and was startled when a strip of the base supporting the upper cabinets started glowing bright enough to see by. Waited for the headache to set in--milder than he was used to--then put the food and goods away. The soap went into the washing-room, along with a thin blanket he stripped from the bed to use as a towel, and, finished settling (as much as he was going to be), he found himself at a bit of a loss of what to do.
Sat, eventually, in the kitchen chair across from the one by his boots, set his gently aching head in his hand, and reached out, thinking of notes and the resonant silences between them.
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no subject
Date: 2007-04-26 03:02 am (UTC)From:He wished briefly for light as he crossed to the counter with the supplies, and was startled when a strip of the base supporting the upper cabinets started glowing bright enough to see by. Waited for the headache to set in--milder than he was used to--then put the food and goods away.
Am guessing the light was magic unintentional on Isael's part, rather than the place responding to thought? I can't actually tell from this bit.
Sat, eventually, in the kitchen chair across from the one by his boots, set his gently aching head in his hand, and reached out, thinking of notes and the resonant silences between them.
Saying again. ow.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-26 03:26 am (UTC)From:Magic unintentional, but the place is very definitely rigged to respond to very light brushes of magic to start things.
thank you. >.>
no subject
Date: 2007-04-26 02:32 pm (UTC)From:People assume 'foreign' for Aodh, because of his mother, and the fact that she left the world instead of relocating to a different city. That and he doesn't display [Autumn]-kin traits except where they can be mistaken for Sabaey.
Isaac Gabriel and Sascha are both assumed (correctly) to be [Autumn]-kin, and could be described as dragon-faced, especially among middling-lower city classes or the Trickwood's people.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-26 04:28 am (UTC)From:. . . sorry, no words.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-26 02:33 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2007-04-29 11:43 pm (UTC)From:...and that sad old ache, at the last line. =(
no subject
Date: 2007-05-01 03:51 am (UTC)From:Yeh. At least we'll get to see the whole of the first war, and survive the second, before we come to this with any sort of officiality? (So, so going to get hate mail. >.>)