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rainbowfic2013-01-31 11:57 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2013-01-31 11:57 am
Entry tags:
Ember #8, Zing #3
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Ember #8 (candle), Zing #3 (you just got served)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 693
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Jarol gets an unwelcome distraction
Note: This is in fact the same world as my previous TES piece, though it may not immediately seem like it. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
He didn't know how long the little girl had been standing there before he noticed her. He had, as usual, become so engrossed in the histories he was reading he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed. He just happened to look up and there she was, dressed in the blue outfit of a beginning student, blond curls pulled back into a thick ponytail. She didn't look older than about six, which made Jarol frown. The youngest beginning students were eight, and she seemed too young for even that. Certainly too young to be allowed in a Standard library.
"How did you get past the wards?" he asked, his gaze sliding up to check the time. There were no windows in the library, which was constantly kept lit with a series of ever-burning candles, but one could see the clock projection from every angle. Jarol rarely had use for it.
Unfortunately, this time it told him he had missed his afternoon class. Again.
"What do you want?" he snapped at the girl, because she was still standing there, staring at him, and if he had already missed class he might as well stay and finish his book, which he couldn't do when there were irritating little girls distracting him.
"Daddy wants to see you," she said, and Jarol finally realized who she was.
It had been a bit of a controversy, allowing in a child so young, but she was the daughter of a powerful dionos and it was said her magical gifts were already impressive. More than a match for the older children in the beginning classes, it was said. Jarol had overheard some--the grinding of the gossip mill was hard to ignore, especially in this place--but his only opinion about the situation was some slight self-righteous disapproval at the blatant nepotism. Some people were just born lucky, which as far as Jarol was concerned meant they deserved a bit of resentment from those who weren't.
Ungracious, he had been called more than once. By the little girl's father, actually. But he was just as ungracious, taking his good fortune for granted. He had everything; why did he need Jarol's gratitude as well?
"Daddy?" he repeated with a sneer.
The little girl shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "Sorry." She couldn't quite pronounce her r's correctly yet. "Dionos Afry wants to see you."
Jarol could have argued, but there were a few things he was above, and arguing with six-year-olds was one of them. "Fine," he said, slamming his book shut. "In his office?"
The girl nodded. "Nine O'Clock, front circle. There's a coach--"
"I know how to get there," Jarol growled at her. It wasn't exactly the first time he had been called into his sponsor's office. "Now go away. You're not supposed to be in this library."
"Da--Dionos Afry said I could. He said I had to give you a message."
Of course the man had allowed his daughter through the wards that were meant to keep out the youngest students. "Well, you've delivered your message. Do you know what will happen if you stay longer?"
"What?"
"You'll lose all your hair and your eyes will grow shut," said Jarol. "That's what the wards do to students who go places they're not allowed."
She grabbed her ponytail. "You're lying." But her lower lip was trembling.
"Look over there," said Jarol, pointing to the other side of the alcove. One of the Academy scribes, a hunched bald man of at least sixty years, his eyes permanently squinted into narrow slits after a lifetime of scribe work, was bent over a manuscript. Jarol silently thanked him for being there for inspiration. "It happened to him, years ago. It never gets better, see?"
The girl regarded the man with wide eyes. "But daddy said--"
"You have a minute left," said Jarol.
She looked at the clock, then turned and fled.
Jarol smirked and followed at a slower pace, in no hurry to know what the dionos wanted to lecture him about this time.
kay_brookeStory: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Ember #8 (candle), Zing #3 (you just got served)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 693
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Jarol gets an unwelcome distraction
Note: This is in fact the same world as my previous TES piece, though it may not immediately seem like it. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
He didn't know how long the little girl had been standing there before he noticed her. He had, as usual, become so engrossed in the histories he was reading he hadn't even noticed how much time had passed. He just happened to look up and there she was, dressed in the blue outfit of a beginning student, blond curls pulled back into a thick ponytail. She didn't look older than about six, which made Jarol frown. The youngest beginning students were eight, and she seemed too young for even that. Certainly too young to be allowed in a Standard library.
"How did you get past the wards?" he asked, his gaze sliding up to check the time. There were no windows in the library, which was constantly kept lit with a series of ever-burning candles, but one could see the clock projection from every angle. Jarol rarely had use for it.
Unfortunately, this time it told him he had missed his afternoon class. Again.
"What do you want?" he snapped at the girl, because she was still standing there, staring at him, and if he had already missed class he might as well stay and finish his book, which he couldn't do when there were irritating little girls distracting him.
"Daddy wants to see you," she said, and Jarol finally realized who she was.
It had been a bit of a controversy, allowing in a child so young, but she was the daughter of a powerful dionos and it was said her magical gifts were already impressive. More than a match for the older children in the beginning classes, it was said. Jarol had overheard some--the grinding of the gossip mill was hard to ignore, especially in this place--but his only opinion about the situation was some slight self-righteous disapproval at the blatant nepotism. Some people were just born lucky, which as far as Jarol was concerned meant they deserved a bit of resentment from those who weren't.
Ungracious, he had been called more than once. By the little girl's father, actually. But he was just as ungracious, taking his good fortune for granted. He had everything; why did he need Jarol's gratitude as well?
"Daddy?" he repeated with a sneer.
The little girl shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "Sorry." She couldn't quite pronounce her r's correctly yet. "Dionos Afry wants to see you."
Jarol could have argued, but there were a few things he was above, and arguing with six-year-olds was one of them. "Fine," he said, slamming his book shut. "In his office?"
The girl nodded. "Nine O'Clock, front circle. There's a coach--"
"I know how to get there," Jarol growled at her. It wasn't exactly the first time he had been called into his sponsor's office. "Now go away. You're not supposed to be in this library."
"Da--Dionos Afry said I could. He said I had to give you a message."
Of course the man had allowed his daughter through the wards that were meant to keep out the youngest students. "Well, you've delivered your message. Do you know what will happen if you stay longer?"
"What?"
"You'll lose all your hair and your eyes will grow shut," said Jarol. "That's what the wards do to students who go places they're not allowed."
She grabbed her ponytail. "You're lying." But her lower lip was trembling.
"Look over there," said Jarol, pointing to the other side of the alcove. One of the Academy scribes, a hunched bald man of at least sixty years, his eyes permanently squinted into narrow slits after a lifetime of scribe work, was bent over a manuscript. Jarol silently thanked him for being there for inspiration. "It happened to him, years ago. It never gets better, see?"
The girl regarded the man with wide eyes. "But daddy said--"
"You have a minute left," said Jarol.
She looked at the clock, then turned and fled.
Jarol smirked and followed at a slower pace, in no hurry to know what the dionos wanted to lecture him about this time.
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