OOCHope I've not overstepped my bounds with the bet thing. If you'd be happier with me changing it - say to lunch or something - I shall of course oblige!
Hot warmth touched her face, as distant as the surface of the sun, even as Alses forced herself onwards, pushing through barbed-wire auras that scoured her hunting mind, trying to flay any sense of self from her as she ploughed on, rising and falling across the crowd, tearing through tangled skeins of dazzling light and sensual caresses, ripping away the maddening obscuration, the kinks of colour and phantom force hiding the deeper truths.
Each time, however, she lingered barely a tick, barely a heartbeat-instant from one moment to the next, before twisting her power cruelly until it gave under the harsh demand and shattered, hurling her to the vagueness of passive Sight and allowing the latest cargo of impressions from her dive to flower in her brain.
Each flashing burst of knowledge, tumbling through her brain every time she coasted along the surface of the crowd, began to merge, to melt and flow together, coherency appearing with each successive plunge to the heart of her ability, even though her head screamed against the continual motion and her very bones seemed to creak under the continual hammer of pressure. Generalised flashes of contentment, of commerce, the meta-concern of the weather rearing its head once more, and strongly – who knew so many people worried about such an uncontrollable thing? All these and more streamed through her brain as she began to work the crowd in earnest. It was djed-heavy, true, a substantial drain that saw her reserves plummeting lower and lower with every heartbeat, but less so than full synchrony directed across the entire crowd, trying to track and focus on everything, instead grasping the numinous meta-memory, the general aura and impression array generated by so many in one place with similar concerns and goals and aims.
Eventually, though, she felt the sharpness of nails in her shoulder, her neck, Chiona's voice calling her back – with a grateful sigh she stopped the madcap dash through the aurist's world, relinquished her hold on the djed conduits pouring through herself, allowed the curling snakes of magic to die back into the golden reserves – lower than they had been – with a happy, contented sigh, freed from the harshest of exertions and the most difficult of uses. Blessed relief, that's what it was, body and mind both freed from the tyranny of the task, too tired for triumph. Gray exhaustion sapped the remaining strength of muscles bunched and turned against their skeletal framework for Syna alone knew how long, leaving Alses' limbs feeling like jelly – wobbly and only marginally under her control.
As she awoke fully to the physical world, the trickling warm wetness intruded once more on her consciousness – she raised a hand to her nose, intending to scratch the itch; it came away smeared with a thin line of bronze blood – which was also the reason for that all-pervading stench of sweetness on the turn, she realised with a jolt, fumbling for a handkerchief before an elegant hand proffered a square of silk.
“That hurt,” Alses pronounced once she was done, every syllable precisely enunciated and carefully laid down, as though she feared they'd scatter and jumble into insensibility unless carefully watched.
“But you did it,” Chiona murmured, by way of reply.
Alses would have brightened, save for the fact that any muscle motion – even to raise a smile or move her eyebrows – sent spasming headaches lancing into the very core of her brain. “You're a harsh taskmaster, Chiona Dusk,” she settled on instead, half-slumped and with eyes mostly shut against the onslaught of the world.
“Again: you did it. And what use is a teacher if you're not pushed onward now and again?”
“Goaded, you mean,” Alses breathed after a while, still feeling as though she were putting her mind back together. “But – we did it?” A faint grin spread over her features, quickly followed by a wince and a frown followed by a larger wince and a concerted effort to keep her face still.
“We did it?” she continued, after some time. “You owe us a mirror?”
A hand flapped in airy dismissal. “Yes, yes, I, Chiona Dusk, as a private individual, owe you a mirror, as per our bargain. Of course, the real test is whether you can do it again. Reliability, not fluke.” Was that chagrin there? Perhaps; Alses was too tired to investigate or care.
“I should have made it contingent on being able to do it again and again,” her ladyship mused. “But, a bargain is a bargain, I suppose. And where would we be if I – I, your most trusted mentor-”
“My only mentor,” Alses interjected, and was summarily ignored.
“-didn't keep to my word? Hmm?” A restful pause, then: “Alses! This is no time and no place to fall asleep!” The sharp tone woke her from near-somnolence, the comforting and pain-free embrace of sleep. Chiona – still fresh as a daisy – seemed determined to plough on with the day, despite the wringer she'd had her student put herself through.
Weakly, Alses asked Syna to rain down curses on Lady Dusk's head, but to no avail; the woman remained perfectly untouched and gilded by the abundant afternoon sunshine. Luck and the gods, it seemed, were on Chiona's side.
“Now, Alses,” came those dulcet tones Alses had begun to dread. “Remember those two staff we had with us this morning?”
She gave a vague nod, fuzzily recalling the shadows that had accompanied them from the Tower to the Plaza and had then vanished off to Syna-knew-where.
“Track them, please.”
A heavy, death-rattle groan was Chiona's reply, before a laugh cut off any thought of protest. “Oh, don't worry. Even I'm not so cruel as to do that to you – your frequent protestations to the contrary notwithstanding. For the moment, anyway.”
A gentle hand took Alses' own in a careful grip, as though Chiona were afraid she'd shatter under the pressure. “Come, come. Let's find some luncheon. Watching over you is tiring work, and I for one would go so far as to inflict at least a flesh wound for a scone or something similar.”
END
Hot warmth touched her face, as distant as the surface of the sun, even as Alses forced herself onwards, pushing through barbed-wire auras that scoured her hunting mind, trying to flay any sense of self from her as she ploughed on, rising and falling across the crowd, tearing through tangled skeins of dazzling light and sensual caresses, ripping away the maddening obscuration, the kinks of colour and phantom force hiding the deeper truths.
Each time, however, she lingered barely a tick, barely a heartbeat-instant from one moment to the next, before twisting her power cruelly until it gave under the harsh demand and shattered, hurling her to the vagueness of passive Sight and allowing the latest cargo of impressions from her dive to flower in her brain.
Each flashing burst of knowledge, tumbling through her brain every time she coasted along the surface of the crowd, began to merge, to melt and flow together, coherency appearing with each successive plunge to the heart of her ability, even though her head screamed against the continual motion and her very bones seemed to creak under the continual hammer of pressure. Generalised flashes of contentment, of commerce, the meta-concern of the weather rearing its head once more, and strongly – who knew so many people worried about such an uncontrollable thing? All these and more streamed through her brain as she began to work the crowd in earnest. It was djed-heavy, true, a substantial drain that saw her reserves plummeting lower and lower with every heartbeat, but less so than full synchrony directed across the entire crowd, trying to track and focus on everything, instead grasping the numinous meta-memory, the general aura and impression array generated by so many in one place with similar concerns and goals and aims.
Eventually, though, she felt the sharpness of nails in her shoulder, her neck, Chiona's voice calling her back – with a grateful sigh she stopped the madcap dash through the aurist's world, relinquished her hold on the djed conduits pouring through herself, allowed the curling snakes of magic to die back into the golden reserves – lower than they had been – with a happy, contented sigh, freed from the harshest of exertions and the most difficult of uses. Blessed relief, that's what it was, body and mind both freed from the tyranny of the task, too tired for triumph. Gray exhaustion sapped the remaining strength of muscles bunched and turned against their skeletal framework for Syna alone knew how long, leaving Alses' limbs feeling like jelly – wobbly and only marginally under her control.
As she awoke fully to the physical world, the trickling warm wetness intruded once more on her consciousness – she raised a hand to her nose, intending to scratch the itch; it came away smeared with a thin line of bronze blood – which was also the reason for that all-pervading stench of sweetness on the turn, she realised with a jolt, fumbling for a handkerchief before an elegant hand proffered a square of silk.
“That hurt,” Alses pronounced once she was done, every syllable precisely enunciated and carefully laid down, as though she feared they'd scatter and jumble into insensibility unless carefully watched.
“But you did it,” Chiona murmured, by way of reply.
Alses would have brightened, save for the fact that any muscle motion – even to raise a smile or move her eyebrows – sent spasming headaches lancing into the very core of her brain. “You're a harsh taskmaster, Chiona Dusk,” she settled on instead, half-slumped and with eyes mostly shut against the onslaught of the world.
“Again: you did it. And what use is a teacher if you're not pushed onward now and again?”
“Goaded, you mean,” Alses breathed after a while, still feeling as though she were putting her mind back together. “But – we did it?” A faint grin spread over her features, quickly followed by a wince and a frown followed by a larger wince and a concerted effort to keep her face still.
“We did it?” she continued, after some time. “You owe us a mirror?”
A hand flapped in airy dismissal. “Yes, yes, I, Chiona Dusk, as a private individual, owe you a mirror, as per our bargain. Of course, the real test is whether you can do it again. Reliability, not fluke.” Was that chagrin there? Perhaps; Alses was too tired to investigate or care.
“I should have made it contingent on being able to do it again and again,” her ladyship mused. “But, a bargain is a bargain, I suppose. And where would we be if I – I, your most trusted mentor-”
“My only mentor,” Alses interjected, and was summarily ignored.
“-didn't keep to my word? Hmm?” A restful pause, then: “Alses! This is no time and no place to fall asleep!” The sharp tone woke her from near-somnolence, the comforting and pain-free embrace of sleep. Chiona – still fresh as a daisy – seemed determined to plough on with the day, despite the wringer she'd had her student put herself through.
Weakly, Alses asked Syna to rain down curses on Lady Dusk's head, but to no avail; the woman remained perfectly untouched and gilded by the abundant afternoon sunshine. Luck and the gods, it seemed, were on Chiona's side.
“Now, Alses,” came those dulcet tones Alses had begun to dread. “Remember those two staff we had with us this morning?”
She gave a vague nod, fuzzily recalling the shadows that had accompanied them from the Tower to the Plaza and had then vanished off to Syna-knew-where.
“Track them, please.”
A heavy, death-rattle groan was Chiona's reply, before a laugh cut off any thought of protest. “Oh, don't worry. Even I'm not so cruel as to do that to you – your frequent protestations to the contrary notwithstanding. For the moment, anyway.”
A gentle hand took Alses' own in a careful grip, as though Chiona were afraid she'd shatter under the pressure. “Come, come. Let's find some luncheon. Watching over you is tiring work, and I for one would go so far as to inflict at least a flesh wound for a scone or something similar.”
END
