Sleeping While Awake

[Gion]

Let me hear your voice a little Show me what you see (Nemuri Hime by Acid Black Cherry) Timestamp: 68th of Fall, 511 AV Like bits of the sun pale hair shone out of the corner across the heavy door. The others, mostly sailors going for a drink and university students talking in small groups, eyed him with suspicion. Although the slender shoulders and white tunics were often seen at the university corridors and in classrooms, they never saw him going out with companions or even having a long discussion. So they had stopped asking seasons ago. His gaze was all over the paper and the words covering it in neat, albeit small handwriting. An ink vial stood next to a full cup of kelp beer and the quill’s pointed end shimmered with black liquid. He didn’t move. History: Pre-Valterrian was on top of the list and then Diversity of Races and a few places and names that could be found scattered across the university grounds. However, they script became smaller and smaller towards the bottom so that the last line was all but legible to everyone who didn’t know his writing. Also, the shadow of his body half-covered the paper, the top appeared alive with the flames from the nearby fire. Sitting too close to it would only lead to quarreling and senseless fights or, if he was lucky, more suspicious glances. The cold didn’t bother him though, not even in Zeltiva where winter came earlier and hit harder. Sighing, he straightened and eyed the liquid. Looking through it dyed the flames in the fire pit golden, just as light and soft as ... the one thing he wanted to forget. As a reward for the thinking, he picked it up, took a sip. And coughed. There was a reason why kelp beer was said to have an “acquired taste”.

[Astrolabe]

“I’m telling you – it isn’t as hard as you’re making it. Try again.” Narba’s voice was patient. It always was. But Astrolabe could practically hear his friend’s teeth grinding in frustration. They must be. He knew his own were. This attempt to improve his use of Flux had been ongoing since the beginning of the term, with few tangible results. Narba was in the same class as Astro, but miles ahead in terms of skill. It had gotten to the point that the Lhavitian almost turned around and walked in the opposite direction when he saw his younger friend heading towards him with that determined look in his eyes. Though four years Astro’s junior, Narba had apparently decided to make Astro’s mastery of the contents of the course his main focus for the Fall. He’d make a great instructor one day. Encouragingly, Narba nodded at Astro and then the metal tankard. It was empty, now. Astro had had it filled and then drained it several times during the course of the early evening. That wasn’t to say that he was drunk, or even tipsy. He was a big guy and held his liquor, or kelp beer, well. He should, as often and as regularly as he consumed it. But he had had just enough to make his typically mellow mood just the tiniest bit more fluid – more free flowing and able to either expand to convivial merriment or contract to a more melancholy frame of mind. The latter seemed more likely at this point, given the exercise Narba had set him. The point was focusing his Djed in his fingertip – his right index fingertip to be precise. If managed correctly, he could then place said fingertip gently against the tankard and send it scooting across the table a few inches. Not a very useful pursuit – but the object was in the end to learn the focusing. With a sigh, Astro frowned and stared at the tankard, which, in his eyes, was being exceedingly uncooperative. So far he had not succeeded in moving it even one millimeter, unless you counted the number of times he had lifted it to his lips to drink off its contents. Taking a deep breath, Astro squinted his eyes and focused, feeling the familiar swirl of power that was easy enough to summon, though incredibly recalcitrant when it came to doing anything useful with it. He heard Narba’s soft murmuring, the words a short incantation that Astro himself repeated silently within his head. having little idea where the Djed was forming up inside of him, he perfunctorily moved his finger towards the tankard. Unexpectedly, another patron of the tavern, which was possibly not the best place to be practicing this, whilst passing behind him, stumbled and staggered into Astro, just as his finger touched the tankard. His attention distracted, the digit shoved into the metal cup much harder than he had meant for it to. And for once, his Djed was exactly where it was supposed to be – unfortunately. Mouth gaping, Astro watched the tankard literally fly off the table. Narba was exclaiming in dismay, as the unintended missile arced gracefully through the air. Helplessly, Astrolabe saw the table which appeared to be the impromptu target of his innocent air assault, as the trajectory of the metal cup took it right to where the pale haired boy sat. With the smallest sense of relief, Astro realized that the cup was going to fall short. It would not clonk the guy right in the skull. His eyes dropped with the cup, as it landed with a thunk. Right on top of a small vial of black fluid.

[Gion]

The liquid danced in the mug and invited him to taste more. Disgust was only the first impression, it whispered, for surely something so beautiful couldn’t hold a bad taste for long. He’d have to make its acquaintance to truly enjoy bitterness. Beer in one hand, he went through the list once again. The feeling of incredible business blocked the surroundings out, yet it was only a feeling. In fact time stretched out in front of him like a long, long carpet in vivid patterns. Clonk. Golden eyes caught sight of movement and a shapeless silhouette dropping onto the vial. A background of fire blinded him for the moment. Blinking, he stared at the foreign thing. Then a definition fell into his mind. Tankard? For the first time since entering he really looked at the other patrons, not avoiding their gazes, but challenging them. Magic stuck to that object like bees humming around a particularly large flower. Djed, to be precise. Light eyes connected. There were dark hair and muscles covered in skin and simple fabric. The slender boy rose and, pushing the cocoon of self-consciousness aside, walked over to the stranger’s table, tankard in hand. A second clonk made his intentions obvious. “What do you think you are doing here? This is neither a playground nor a classroom.” Brushing a loose hair strand aside, he hoped that his words showered the guy in guilt or at least frustration. In fact his muscles slowly relaxed, although the steam blown off still hovered in the muggy air. Time and reality, such elusive concepts, he thought.

[Astrolabe]

Astro grimaced and then let out a small groan as the tankard hit the vial of ink, toppling it over. Thank god the petching tankard was empty, was his first thought. Holy shyke, was an immediate second, as he was just able to see the black contents go spilling across the parchment set before the occupant of the table. Narba, at his elbow, uttered something entirely irrepeatable and Astro said softly, “Petch!” It was absolutely to be expected to see the fair haired scholar look up and over in surprise, tracking the trajectory of the assault weapon back precisely to its source. Thankfully, the young man did not appear to have the build of anyone who would pose a real threat to the well-muscled wrestler. But in Zeltiva, much like Lhavit, a potential foe’s magical skills might far outweigh Astro’s own physical strength and agility. He had the scars to prove it. Eyebrows raised in dismay, and the feeling of being caught once more messing things up, Astro’s deep blue eyes clicked on those of the pale, colorless boy – incongruent eyes that seemed to contain the shifting hues of the bruised evening sky. Their eyes locked, and Astro knew this would not end well. Sure enough – naturally enough – the wispy body crowned with a plethora of light curls rose from his seat and came straight at Astro. Narba shifted uncomfortably, saying, “Let me go see what the damage is – maybe I can fix it,” and slipped away. Astro could only hold his ground and await the angry words sure to accompany the angry features of the young man. His eyes took in the heavy metal tankard in the boy’s hand and he wondered briefly if, like his own cup, it was destined to become a weapon. But instead of his head, the tankard merely clonked down on the table. And the young man’s words were hardly as pugilistic as they could have been. Astro raised his hands in a placatory gesture, palms outward. “Hey, I’m sorry – so sorry!” His tone was sincere, though the words might have seemed glib. He had spent half his life apologizing for things gone wrong – so the act just came very easily to him. “I know – I know. Probably not the best place to be practicing flux. But you see, my friend . . . “ He nodded back towards the table the bleached out young man had come from, and he was alarmed to see the look of defeat on Narba’s face. Apparently the damage done was pretty bad, and it didn’t look like it would be easily fixed. Astro gulped. “Um, my friend has been helping me – um, tutoring me – and he thought . . . he thought we should try it . . . “ Astro’s voice trailed off. It was no use, really. He had no doubt ruined whatever the guy had been working on. He couldn’t hardly try to justify the fact that he could never get anything right, not when it came to magic. “Well,” he shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’m – I’m sorry.”