[Wright Memorial Library] When Shielders Collide (Seven)

[Samantha Slate]

5th of Fall, 512 As Samantha stepped into the library, she looked around in absolute awe. To think, this treasure trove of knowledge had been kept right under her nose for her whole childhood and she'd never even paid it any mind! The unease she felt at returning home to Zeltiva vanished like a puff of vapor as she looked around eagerly. Even her fatigue from the long journey lifted a bit at the prospect of all the knowledge lying before her. The woman had rushed over to the University immediately after leaving the ship she had arrived to Zeltiva on, not even stopping to secure an inn room for the night. As such, she still had her pack on her shoulders and was beginning to get a bit of a crick in her neck from the pain of carrying it around for so long. Stopping for a moment to take in the sight of the library, Samantha took stock of her situation. The librarian was nowhere to be seen and several students and professors were standing about, either reading books or selecting titles from the massive shelves in front of them. All in all, the place left Samantha feeling fairly secure. There was just something about a library that always made the mage feel safe and secure, like nothing could hurt her. She supposed that it was because she had always found solace and peace in her father's library, and had never found herself to be in an unsavory position during one of her countless visits to the libraries she had visited in her travels. With a slight frown, the woman pushed her contemplations aside and walked quietly towards the row of shelves on the left. She stood out a bit with the pack on her shoulders and hastened to retreat into one of the long rows between the bookshelves to hide herself from any prying eyes. After all, she never knew who might be watching; with her luck, her father was probably staring down at her from that top tier, just waiting for her to go up there to find him! Samantha shivered at that thought and forcibly turned her mind back to the books in front of her. She was fully prepared to spend hours scouring the library for any books on the topics of magic and auristics in particular, as most of the libraries she had visited had restricted all but the most vague texts on magic to select people who either had the power or wealth to bribe the right people in order to read them. Thus, much to Samantha's shock, the mage had walked right into a row full of texts on the basic theory of magic. Practically giggling with glee, Samantha hurriedly began scanning the titles of the numerous books for anything that might relate to one of her fields of interest. After a few minutes, she found a book near the end of the row that caught her eye. The Treval Codex. Well, she hadn't read that one yet. Though she knew of it, she had always been preoccupied with other studies that were more practical. Thinking of it now, Samantha decided that she really ought to get down to reading that particular piece of literature. From the little she knew of it, it outlined much basic magic theory and thought. After she plucked the book from its place on the shelf, the thought occurred to the mage that she ought to make herself a bit more inconspicuous. After all, she could get very engrossed in a book and it was very easy to sneak up on her while she was reading. The thought of someone hearing her turning pages from the other side of the row she was standing in bothered her, especially with her certainty that her father was probably in the building somewhere. With that in mind, she dropped her pack to the floor and daintily rested the Codex on top if it before turning to regard the bookshelves. They were well-made and sturdy, but she was certain that they weren't properly soundproofed. More importantly, the row of books had her in plain sight of a small section of the library. Her father or some vagabond could pass by and decide to give her some trouble. With a small smile, Samantha closed her eyes and began slowly pushing thought out of her mind. In her current emotional state, it took her several minutes to focus her mind on the singular goal of forming certain shields. First, she dissipated her concerns and worries, allowing them to linger only in the very back of her mind. Next, taking deep, calming breaths, she began to calm her emotions. With vague disapproval, Samantha noticed that her emotions were skittering unchecked and unrestrained. She really did need to learn to hide them better, but it didn't help at all that her eyes clearly reflected everything she was feeling. For now, they were a shifting amalgamation of the spectrum with worry, fear, concern, and a combative desire for a deep blue calm fighting against them. Eventually, Samantha's mind held only the empty, blissful calm that she held so dear when weaving a shield. Not only was it necessary for the formation of a proper shield, but it felt very nice not to have to worry about her problems, even if only for a short while. Opening her now ocean-blue eyes, Samantha held her hands in front of her chest with her palms loosely facing the bookshelf in front of her. After breathing in deeply and exhaling once, Samantha began to weave. To her eyes, Samantha's hands began giving off a faint blue gas. After a few moments of allowing it to build up around her hands, the mage's hands began to move in an understated, calm sort of way. She was directing the gas in a certain formation with her gestures, showing it where to go and how to form there. Though she knew that she could probably form a shield without any outward movements, Samantha found that it helped her focus on the task at hand. The mage smoothed the gas that only she could see into a thin film over the books and their bookshelf. With minute movements of her fingers, Samantha smoothed out incongruities in the material and guided it into a smooth, glassy plane as even as she could possibly make it. The woman took her time with her work, trying to make it as flawless as she could. When time was not pressing, Samantha found that she could spend hours doing a simple task that would normally only take her a few minutes. It soothed her and made her feel at peace, a feeling she rarely had the opportunity to enjoy otherwise. After close to twenty minutes of sculpting and forming her shield, Samantha closed her hands into loose fists in a gesture of completion. She had finished the formation of her shield, and now had only to set it to a task. Though all shields had the duty and capacity to block Djed, she had recently gained the capability of adding new tasks and abilities to her shields. This part was something she had only done a few times before, and she knew it would take much more focus and attention than her shield already demanded of her. First, she took in a deep breath and closed her eyes once again. The mage imagined the air in her lungs forming into the same gas that her shields were always composed of, imagining it swirling and sifting about as it sought release from the confines of her body. Slowly, she breathed out through her mouth, a puff of the gas escaping her and spreading out over the shield. With her eyes still closed, she caused the gas to thin out as finely as it could and overlay her shield. Instead of the mindless form she had given to the rest of her shield, she created this tiny film, this mere whiff of Djed with thought. Though it was not complex, it still held power. She weaved the film deep into the shield, creating the shield's purpose and being, its whole reason for existence. For a brief moment, Samantha felt a whimsical connection with her shield. She knew it was a purely mental and imagined thing, but she felt it all the same. The shield itself became a part of her for that instant as she breathed life into it and gave it a reason to live. In that instant, her seemingly infinite source of peace and calm flowed from her to the shield, infusing it with her command. For the duration of its existence, the shield would block all the sound that passed through it, dissipating it into a blissful, perfect silence. For a moment, Samantha opened her eyes and observed her work. As usual, it was flawed and imperfect, but far better than her usual work. It was pockmarked with differences in consistency and shape, yet it would hold solidly against the sound she wished to hide. To the untrained eye, it would appear that Samantha had been waggling her fingers in a most unusual way, yet to one who had knowledge in the art of Shielding it would be much the same as Samantha's perception of it. They would see her gracefully directing the substance of her shield in the way it ought to go. She admired the smooth, smoky blue color that shields always adopted in her mind, a smile curving her lips as she considered how beautiful it was. This was one of the few things she cared for, and she could never quite rid herself of an emotional attachment to her shields. Samantha turned to the other bookshelf after a few more seconds. She knew that her meditative state would begin fading if she did not work another shield to maintain it, and she had no desire to work through the difficulty of forcing her tempestuous emotions into submission again. Though she loved weaving her shields, Samantha was eager to delve into the Codex and see what it could teach her. Somewhat more hastily this time, Samantha formed a shield similar to the first one on the bookshelf opposite her. Each of these shields spanned only a few feet of the row, and ended about five feet away from her towards the open library. She was not going to be very loud, so she felt no need to take unnecessary precaution. Such was her peace and feeling of safety that she nearly left the open exit from the row unguarded, but fortunately she remembered herself and began work on it, as well. She was beginning to tire from the extended amount of time she had spent on her shields. Normally, the mage could weave much vaster expanses than she had here, but with the excessive care Samantha had shown each of the two previous shields she was unsure how much more it had taken out of her. Fortunately, she had enough training in Shielding to know that she had enough strength to weave at least this last shield. She began the construction of the third and final barrier in much the same manner she had the first two. Samantha made it span the width of the row at the place where her soundproof shields ended, creating a sort of open-topped, rectangular box around her. Unlike before, however, Samantha infused the final breath of gas with a desire to repel, to keep out and deflect. This was the first task she had learned to assign a shield aside from the typical blocking of Djed, and thus she was fairly proficient at it. The first two shields combined had taken the mage close to thirty minutes, while the last had been a matter of five minutes even though it was larger than either of the first two alone. The quality of the shield was reflected in the haste of its construction, unfortunately. Its surface was dented and wavering, unlike the first two shields. They felt like smooth glass, even though they had the occasional ripple or dent. This one, however, rolled and heaved along every inch of its design. It irked Samantha though she knew that her haste had been the cause. She turned away from her shields with a last admiring glance at her first(and most well-made) shield and settled down on the floor beside her pack in a most unladylike fashion. After cracking open the Codex, she began to read from the beginning. Though the blue in her eyes had dulled somewhat, they still reflected the contentment and peace she felt. Though her father may have been in the building, she was sure she was safe. They were in a library and she had enough shielding to protect her from anything she needed to worry about, she was sure. Besides, he would never risk harming her in a University full of people who could call the Wave Guards, would he?

[Seven Xu]

The morning had clouded over and the vast, dusty library grew grey, giving way to orange-yellow lamplight that brought warmth to the gloaming. Seven could smell the rot of wood and parchment, and he could hear the thunder roll distant over the mouth of Matthew’s Bay as the first rain began to fall. Autumn had settled in; a sharp, cold wind buffeted the library’s thick walls.

Seven had wasted no time in scouring the book-lined corridors for accounts of spring, ignoring thicker and more interesting texts for any title that alluded to the recent storm that had spread the continent, from Kalea’s hard and unforgiving mountains to the shores of this older-than-history fishing town. After what had felt like a short lifetime of searching for nothing, his glazed ruby stare caught interest in something altogether strange.

Through the wall, between the jagged line of books and the flat bottom of the shelf above, opaque blue coalesced and drifted like smoke. Unnatural, Seven’s brow beetled and he threaded confident white fingers through the narrow opening. He exhaled a knowing laugh when the wall shuddered and refused his entry. Pale blue djed swarmed angrily at his palm’s interruption. Loathe to press on should he break the shield—the first he’d ever encountered, save for his own—but incapable of quashing his curiosity, Seven rounded the corner.

There it was: a great murky wall, pockmarked by haste or ineptitude, but no less solid. Before Seven could think to call out, his palms pressed the weave again, fingertips itching with an off-violet shimmer of their own. Autumn had brought newfound impetuousness to the halfblood’s character; he’d become like Victor in that aspect, a thought that may have frightened him a year ago. Oily, unpractised djed poured from his fingertips, smearing violet over the barrier where it had grown thin.

Almost immediately, Seven realised himself and his hands flew away as if the foreign shield had bitten him. He took a step backward. “Sorry,” he murmured at the wall, and whatever it protected.

[Samantha Slate]

After about an hour of reading, Samantha had come to the conclusion that she had made a mistake in avoiding the Treval Codex for so long. For what it lacked in practical knowledge, it more than made up for in theory and philosophy. Unfortunately, the woman was interrupted right as she reached the part discussing the possible implications of widespread magical knowledge; that was a fascinating thought. What had those that came before thought their world would be like? In the corner of her eye, Samantha saw a strange color spreading across the physical barrier shield that she had thrown up to block the gap between the two bookcases she was situated between. A thousand things ran through her mind as she looked up to see the oily substance patching a hole in her shield. Was it her father? Could he have found her already? What was happening to her shield? The Codex fell from her lap and landed on the cold, tiled floor with a loud thud! sound as she leaped to her feet. After gathering her thoughts, the mage heard a mumbled apology from the other side of the barrier. It was only then that she noticed a lanky, slender man standing a few feet behind the shield. Samantha took a moment then to look him up and down; he looked unassuming enough, weak and clearly not much of a fighter. From experience though, Samantha knew that his sort were the ones to watch out for. Likely, he was a Reimancer or--gods forbid--a Hypnotist. For all she knew, he was her father in disguise! Though she knew that the latter was a bit far-fetched, Samantha knew better than to risk dismissing the possibility. In a suspicious and cold voice, the mage barked at the newcomer, "What do you want?" As she continued to glare at the man, Samantha once again wished she had taken the time to study Reimancy instead of Auristics. The man could be cinders now! Maybe not cinders, she admitted, but at least he would be on fire or something similar.

[Seven Xu]

“You’re blocking the aisle.” Seven replied, scrunching his nose. Regret had faded from his starry Lhavitian lilt; his sharp, lofty words turned over fang and tongue, as affronted as the woman beyond her barrier.

While the shield persisted, it was not entirely opaque. The fledgling mage wagered he could look clear through its thinnest spots, and bent to do so. For a moment his stare caught the eyes of the girl within, and then his dove white nose bumped the obstruction. Again it fussed and deterred him, as it was tasked to do.

She was little more than a lean smudge behind off-blue smoke when he leaned back again.

He bit back questions. How many people in the vast—but dubiously small—world could make their energies tangible, and then weave them into protection? It certainly wasn’t a common skill. The observer fell into his characteristic silence, the sort that made others in his company uncomfortable as it would come about even in the midst of heated conversation, and he noticed that the library around them had hushed, tense beneath the patter of rain on a vaulted rooftop. No doubt in reaction to the young woman’s outburst.

When he spoke again it was softly. “I’m sorry to intrude, but you are in the way. Certainly this portion of the library cannot belong to you. I don’t want to bother you; I’m just looking for something.”

[Samantha Slate]

"You're blocking the aisle." The young man said simply. Instead of his previous quiet mumbling, the man seemed deeply offended about something. It wasn't her fault that he needed something from her aisle! Samantha's blue eyes eyes, their color dulled by the man's presence, swirled into a steely slate-gray as he bent closer to her shield to peer through a hole that had been worn through the shield. Despite her alarm, the mage flushed with embarrassment; suddenly, she wished that she had spent more time on that last barrier. It was embarrassing that a fellow shielder--for that was what he must be--had caught her throwing up walls willy nilly like that. Samantha smirked as her assailant got his nose into the shield's field. That ought to teach him some manners, she thought. It was only then that she realized that the library had become abnormally quiet, as if you could hear a pin drop. If this man truly only wanted a book, something she still doubted, then she had made an example of herself in front of the whole library. Softly, he spoke once again, “I’m sorry to intrude, but you are in the way. Certainly this portion of the library cannot belong to you. I don’t want to bother you; I’m just looking for something.” Thankful that she was secluded in the recesses of the library, the woman answered him in a similarly hushed tone, "What book are you looking for?" Though she was becoming somewhat less suspicious of the man, her eyes were still a solid gray of wariness. Samantha had no intentions of lowering her shield, even if she knew how. As of yet, the mage had not worked out the trick of unraveling her shields after she was finished with them. It was why she had created the barrier so thinly in the first place; she didn't want to be trapped in that blasted aisle all night while she waited for it to decompose. In another thirty minutes or so, it would dissolve on its own.

[Seven Xu]

A pause filled the air, broken by the abrupt sound of words balling in Seven’s throat. “I don’t know,” he finally managed. “History: first-hand accounts of local events preferably dated around two seasons ago. I can’t find anything recent.”

Without care or lengthy concentration, the violet smear had begun to slip away. If Seven had once thought to breathe new life into the waning djed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he moved to the shield-wall’s edge, trying to peer at the texts closest to him. Nothing seemed to indicate anything close to history, save for titles that alluded to the origins of the arcane and dusty accounts of old and nameless mages. Nonetheless interesting, but not what he was looking for.

The defeat in his search had mounted itself on his face, and he reached for the nearest unguarded text. What he grabbed was thin, a hundred or so thin pages squeezed between a hard and black cover. Embossed on its front, First Aid Volume IV: The Prevention of Burns. Seven gathered his civility and sank to the floor, crouching with his back to the near shelf and an arm’s length from the stranger’s forced comfort zone.

“Never mind the book,” it sounded like a suggestion, “listen.” Thunder sounded on a muffled crack, causing the halfblood pause to look skyward. “Forgive me for being so forward, but you could really hurt someone with this thing strung across the aisle like that, someone less observant.” He hesitated on the word observant, then opened the no-doubt-riveting copy of First Aid.

[Samantha Slate]

After a brief pause, the slender man spoke once more, “I don’t know,” he finally said, “History: first-hand accounts of local events preferably dated around two seasons ago. I can’t find anything recent.” And he was looking in this section for it? Books like that certainly wouldn't be kept with these old tomes; Samantha was about to tell him as much when something unusual caught her eye. The stain of Djed that her visitor had created on her shield had begun to fade away, its very substance evaporating like mist. Samantha suddenly became aware of her foolishness in allowing the man so near her. He clearly knew how Shielding worked, and probably knew a great deal more than she did about it. It was a certainty(in Samantha's eyes) that he knew Reimancy. All he had to do was burn through her evaporating shield and consequently through her to be done with her and free to get any books he pleased! Samantha's eyes, which had faded to a light, linting green to mirror her thoughtful mood, flashed back to their customary gray as she took a step backwards. The man seemed to dismiss her as he regarded the various books that were hidden safely behind the mage's barrier. After a short while, the lanky man's face became a testament to his lack of success in his hunt for the book he was looking for. He reached for a book nearby--clearly not one of history, it was much too thin for that. “Never mind the book,” it sounded like a almost like a suggestion to Samantha, “listen.” At that instant a muffled roll of thunder sounded outside. The woman had not noticed that it was raining. She really did need to pay better attention to her surroundings; the mage always managed to miss the important things, somehow. For now she dismissed the thought and returned her attention to the man in front of her, who was now crouching on the floor with his book in hand, “Forgive me for being so forward, but you could really hurt someone with this thing strung across the aisle like that, someone less observant.” He paused right before the word 'observant', like he had to select the proper word. For some reason this struck her as funny and she chuckled at him, a light purple color swirling lightly in her eyes, mingling with the gray. To think, he shoved his face into her shield, and was cautioning her to be careful about what she did! For all he knew, she could have woven some kind of trap into her shield and turned him into a toad or something similarly silly. Or perhaps not; he was a Shielder, that much was plain. He surely knew what could and could not be done with them. Instead of snapping back at Seven, Samantha spoke calmly, "What are you reading?" She did not care one iota what it was that he was reading, but he might have some knowledge she could use. As long as he kept his distance from her, she was reasonably safe behind her shield. At least as safe as she could be before she could escape from him and get to a more secluded part of the library. To give him the false impression of being at ease, Samantha leaned against the bookshelf that her soundproof shield had warded and forced a smile. Despite these poor attempts at civility, Samantha could not keep her eyes from remaining gray. If this man knew anything about the way a Vantha's eyes reflected their emotions, it would be fairly obvious that Samantha was still cold and suspicious towards the man.

[Seven Xu]

He looked up and into the girl’s uneasy grey eyes (of which he swore were green moments ago) and favoured her with a stiff, crooked smile. “Uh,” he hesitated, and then flipped the open book to regard its cover. “Apparently I’m brushing up on my first aid.” Then he laughed an awkward, abrupt laugh.

Ignorant to paranoid first impressions, he went on. “Burn care,” he added, “in the midst of magical education. Seems a fitting place to throw it, eh?”

Indeed, he’d heard stories of men too bold that sliced their hands in the name of controlling the elements, of men quite literally consumed by their powerlust. When it was obvious that the halfblood’s amusement went unshared, he fell back into his silence, pressed shoulders to shelves, and propped the thin book against bent and bony knees.

Seven read until words blurred and the space between black ink lines grew narrow. When he looked over the pages again, the wall between them had withered away, but the girl beyond it had remained. A smile crept over his wax-pale lips, and he rocked forward with an outstretched hand.

“Seven, by the way,” the offer dangled between them on thin fingers. “And you are?”

[Samantha Slate]

The stranger smiled a sickly-looking smile at Samantha as he locked eyes with her, “Uh,” he hesitated long enough to check the title of his randomly chosen book, “Apparently I’m brushing up on my first aid.” Then he laughed an awkward, abrupt laugh. Samantha watched him cooly with suspicion practically oozing from her. “Burn care in the midst of magical education. Seems a fitting place to throw it, eh?” When he saw that the woman was very far from amused by his jokes, he gave up and lapsed into silence as he read the slim tome he held in his similarly slim hands. The peace was just fine with Samantha; she wanted to get a good look at the irritating man who intruded on her privacy. He was lanky and thin, almost what one would call slender. Obviously he had no real physical strength; it looked like a strong gust of wind could send him head over heels. The feature that caught her attention most however was his eyes. They were a deep crimson, like freshly spilled blood. It vaguely resembled what some said her eyes were when she was in a murderous rage. She highly doubted it however, as she was rarely ever that angry and nearly never in the company of others. With a resigned sigh, she picked up the copy of the Codex off the floor and continued to read. Samantha had a bit of trouble focusing on the text because her eyes kept being drawn to the figure sitting just on the other side of her shield. After a seemingly endless period, the shield had finally begun to break apart. She tucked her book away and directed her gaze to the man, his head bent into the book he was reading. Seconds later, he closed his reading material and set it aside with a smile. He leaned forward and extended his lengthy arm towards her in a friendly gesture of greeting, “Seven, by the way,” he said, "And you are?" Samantha made no move to shake the proffered hand as she replied, "Samantha. A pleasure." It was very plain in cold demeanor that she considered it nothing of the sort. The mage stood and placed the Codex back in its proper place before once more turning her attention on Seven to see what he was planning to do.

[Seven Xu]

Seven’s hand wallowed in its rejection seconds longer before he scowled and retreated. A pleasure. “I’m sure,” he remarked, clearly irked by the girl’s cold shoulder. She held him in her cold stare a heartbeat longer, and it compelled the halfblood to stand. Even slouching, he was taller than her by half a head. The list of those who considered Seven tall was comprised mostly of children, rickety old folk, and the rare adult stricken by dwarfism (of only one he’d met). Needless to say, Seven straightened considerably when he noticed.

“I don’t know what I did to offend you,” he rocked closer to her as he spoke under his breath, fingers roaming across the musky wall before them, “but I’m sorry. I’ve never met someone—well, that’s a lie.”

He tried again. “I’ve never come across a shield like this, so out in the open. It’s strange to see.”

Seven could hardly remember what the life-saving shell that introduced him to shielding had looked like. It was blue, he thought—or was it white? The night had been a blur, and he grew tired trying to make sense of it. Ghosts, bandits, and bones; Seven Xu was not a man built for adventure.

That stupid pink mouth opened and closed again, but whatever he meant to say had died in his throat. Then, as quiet as he came, he left.

She would find him some time later at the end of a long polished table, hunched over dusty yellow Zeltivan annals, his fingers working to smooth the curled edges of an open page; his knees were comfortably at his chest, boots cast off at the foot of his chair to favour socked toes gripping the edge of the hard chair; his lips moved in silence as he pored over bleeding ink and shaky illustrations; and he was smiling.

Surrounded by more than he could read in several days, he looked entirely at peace.