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triangularity2011-11-08 01:09 pm
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Circle of Magic, early Will of the Empress
"They shaped you all wrong, didn't they?" Briar murmured softly to the foot-tall maple on his worktable. He had rescued it from a stall in the market, seeing how unhappy it was. Checking out the competition among vendors was always a good idea, but today's venture had left him more concerned for this tree than his business. If he was undersold by the seller in question, so be it. At least he actually listened to what the tree needed.
He reached into his kit for several weights of the wire Daja had brought in from the forge at his request. "This isn't gonna be pleasant, but it can't be too much worse than how uncomfortable you are already." The plant mage loosely wrapped the maple's trunk with heavy wire to begin the process of slowly correcting its shape. He shook his head, grimacing. A tree has to agree to being shaped, and to the way it's shaped; anyone working with shakkans ought to know that. As the plant picked up on his agitation, he smiled and gave the pot a reassuring pat, running a finger gently over a leaf. "Don't worry. We'll get you sorted out."
His newest acquisition settled, Briar went to the window, enjoying the breeze and idly watching clouds shift. Long acquaintance with Tris assured him that she was probably at her own window, watching the storm be born. She was the one who'd pointed out the phenomenon in the first place, years ago.
If this were Discipline, they'd both be on the roof right now, possibly with Daja and Sandry as well, sprawled on the thatch in companionable silence or laughter and conversation. Briar looked at the building's structure around his window. The roof would be a little more difficult, but by no means impossible, to reach here at Number 6 Cheeseman Street. He pondered climbing out, clambering up right now. That would be an invitation of sorts, though. An afternoon watching the clouds together, and next thing you know, the girls'd be clamoring to get back into his head. Especially if Sandry happened by or heard of it.
Clouds might be magic, particularly if you asked Coppercurls, but not the kind of magic that could make them all kids again. Climbing up there didn't mean he'd find them waiting and everything simple.
Another day, maybe. Once he'd cleaned up the mess in his mind and the four had gotten to know each other all over again.
He reached into his kit for several weights of the wire Daja had brought in from the forge at his request. "This isn't gonna be pleasant, but it can't be too much worse than how uncomfortable you are already." The plant mage loosely wrapped the maple's trunk with heavy wire to begin the process of slowly correcting its shape. He shook his head, grimacing. A tree has to agree to being shaped, and to the way it's shaped; anyone working with shakkans ought to know that. As the plant picked up on his agitation, he smiled and gave the pot a reassuring pat, running a finger gently over a leaf. "Don't worry. We'll get you sorted out."
His newest acquisition settled, Briar went to the window, enjoying the breeze and idly watching clouds shift. Long acquaintance with Tris assured him that she was probably at her own window, watching the storm be born. She was the one who'd pointed out the phenomenon in the first place, years ago.
If this were Discipline, they'd both be on the roof right now, possibly with Daja and Sandry as well, sprawled on the thatch in companionable silence or laughter and conversation. Briar looked at the building's structure around his window. The roof would be a little more difficult, but by no means impossible, to reach here at Number 6 Cheeseman Street. He pondered climbing out, clambering up right now. That would be an invitation of sorts, though. An afternoon watching the clouds together, and next thing you know, the girls'd be clamoring to get back into his head. Especially if Sandry happened by or heard of it.
Clouds might be magic, particularly if you asked Coppercurls, but not the kind of magic that could make them all kids again. Climbing up there didn't mean he'd find them waiting and everything simple.
Another day, maybe. Once he'd cleaned up the mess in his mind and the four had gotten to know each other all over again.