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rainbowfic2013-03-14 02:56 pm
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2013-03-14 02:56 pm
Acanthus #8, Peacock #5
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Acanthus #8 (silk cord), Peacock #5 (vanity)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,544
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Jarol meets with Dionos Afry.
Note: The follow up to this piece. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Dionos Afry, despite being a dionos, was rather known for being fashionable--vain, Jarol might have put it, had he dared--and having impeccable taste in decoration. His office was all dark paneling with opulent blue carpet installed at quite the expense. His desk was large and oak, the chairs made to match. An impressive array of leather-bound books lined the twin shelves on either side of the desk, and a series of elegant, wrought-iron lamps decorated two desk corners and a side table along one wall. The art on the walls was changed every so often, to reflect the latest styles. Jarol had been in Dionos Afry's office enough times over the years to know the man would never be caught showing a piece from a has-been artist.
Like all dionosi, Afry wore the traditional robes befitting his status, but he of course added his own flair to them. Today his robes were dyed a deep red, the top clasp undone to show off a snow-white shirt beneath them. He had chosen to recall a more archaic look to the outfit, replacing the more modern middle sash with a simple silk cord, tied in the front and white as his shirt.
Jarol had to try very hard not to scowl as he stood impatiently in the doorway and waiting for Dionos Afry to acknowledge him.
"Jarol," the man said finally, glancing up from where he had been straightening a row of books. "You came quickly, good. Please, have a seat."
Jarol preferred to remain standing, but when a dionos told you to have a seat, it wasn't a suggestion. He picked the chair closest to the door and perched gingerly on the very edge.
"Now," said Afry, sitting in his own chair behind the desk and indicating a thick pile of papers tied with twine. "Do you know what these are?"
"No," said Jarol.
"Reports," said Afry. He fiddled with the end of the knot holding the twine tight, but did not untie the bundle. "About you."
Jarol swallowed, but nodded. He knew all the dionosi kept progress reports on their students, to be given in intervals to the student's sponsor. He had never seen his own--few students did--but the thickness of the bundle startled him. True, he had been at the Academy for eight years, but he also knew he wasn't exactly a stand-out member of his class. He, in fact, barely managed to pass most of his classes. And he'd never been a disciplinary problem, even with his tendency toward not entirely respectful remarks.
So why so many reports? Or was that normal?
"Jarol," Afry continued. "We've spoken of my concerns before."
Jarol nodded again. Many times. Dionos Afry did not like that one of the students he sponsored was last in his class. It made him look bad, and if there was anything Afry hated, it was looking bad. If this is going to be another lecture about classes, I wish he'd just skip it, Jarol thought. It's nothing I've never heard before and it's a waste of time.
He even thought about saying that out loud. What would Afry do? Lecture him more?
Before he could decide either way, Afry continued. "I did not want it to come to this, but my own reservations and the reports I have received from your instructors give me no other choice." He grimaced. "I am discontinuing your sponsorship."
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and even when they did, Jarol could make little sense of them. "But...if I don't have a sponsor I can't remain a student."
Afry nodded. "Correct."
"Then you want me to find a new sponsor?" The words were edged in panic, despite Jarol's best efforts. Who would agree to be his new sponsor? Most of his instructors despaired of him. Some of them outright hated him. He had no contacts among the upper levels of the administration. No highly-respected relatives or friends to vouch for him. And a terrible school record, so no one would be interested in him for his academic prowess.
Afry shook his head. "I'm afraid that will be impossible."
"I could find someone," said Jarol, defensive.
"You misunderstand me," said Afry. "You may not attempt to procure another sponsor. Your scholarship here is ended. Permanently."
Jarol could feel the blood draining from his face, leaving him light-headed. He gripped the arms of the chair. He would have to beg. He would have to debase himself in front of the dionos. But he realized in that moment some things were more important than pride. "I'll do better in classes. Please give me another chance." His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and the words came out garbled.
Dionos Afry, however, seemed to have no problem understanding. He patted the pile of reports. "You are intelligent, Jarol, though you only want to apply yourself in limited areas. You are mostly tolerable to be around, despite your sharp tongue. Your assistance to the scribes in the library has been noted and appreciated. Were your class performance the only issue, we could still work to make you a productive student of this Academy. But that is not the issue. You, simply, have insufficient talent."
It was his worst nightmare come true. The thing he ignored during the day, telling himself that his lack of success came from a disinterest in the more boring parts of academia. The thing that nevertheless invaded his thoughts at night, leaving him wondering if that was all it was, if maybe there wasn't something fundamentally broken about him. "I have talent!" he spat. "That's what you said, all those years ago when you found me. You said I had talent. You brought me here."
Afry shrugged, his face solemn. "Even the best of us make mistakes, Jarol." He sighed. "There is some talent in you, certainly. You would have never made it past the beginning classes if there was not. But there is not enough, and what you do have is poorly controlled."
"I can work on that!"
Afry shook his head. "I told myself the same for a long time. I believed that all you needed was motivation to work harder. But I have pored over these reports, Jarol. I have reviewed your progress from the first day you stepped inside the Academy walls. Your triumphs and your failures. And I am forced to conclude that your poor performance comes from lack of ability, not lack of will."
Jarol found he had no words. He could only gape at Dionos Afry.
"I am truly sorry, but you must be moved out of your quarters by the end of the week," said Afry. "It is a sad day when we have to turn away a student for lack of talent, but it happens. We must all move on."
"Move on?" said Jarol in a whisper. "Move on where? I have nowhere to go."
"You had a home, and a mother," said Afry. "As I was your sponsor and thus feel some responsibility toward you, I will pay for a coach to return you to your home village."
"No," said Jarol. "No, I will never go back there." He didn't even know if his mother was still alive, or if she still lived in the same village. He had been eight when he had last seen her, and she had only been too glad to get rid of him. He had always been unwanted.
Afry sighed. "What would you have me do, Jarol? I cannot adopt you or pay for your room and board. I cannot allow you to continue living in student quarters. You are sixteen and no longer obligated to have a guardian."
"So you're just going to leave me on the streets?" Jarol said. To his horror, tears were starting to pool in the corners of his eyes.
"You have skills," said Afry. "Your research abilities could get you work in any number of government offices. I will ask some of my friends in Parliament if they know of openings. But that is all I can do for you."
Jarol didn't want to work as a researcher in the government. What he loved more than anything was helping the scribes in the library. But scribes were all former students who had successfully graduated. No scribes without those credentials would ever be hired.
But maybe, if he could convince someone...not Afry. Afry had clearly reached the end of his sympathy, and Jarol had always thought the man was a moron. But he might be able to persuade the scribes he had worked with to support him.
"Jarol?" said Afry. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes."
"Well," said Afry, sitting back in his chair. "That is all I wanted to speak to you about. You are dismissed."
Jarol immediately stood, though it was from habit, and there was a small part where he wondered why he was still showing the respect that had been instilled in him. What could Afry do to him now? But it might be better not to antagonize anyone, especially with the plans that were formulating in the back of his mind.
Because he had no intention to leave the Academy.
kay_brookeStory: The Eighth Saimar
Colors: Acanthus #8 (silk cord), Peacock #5 (vanity)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas
Word Count: 1,544
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply.
Summary: Jarol meets with Dionos Afry.
Note: The follow up to this piece. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Dionos Afry, despite being a dionos, was rather known for being fashionable--vain, Jarol might have put it, had he dared--and having impeccable taste in decoration. His office was all dark paneling with opulent blue carpet installed at quite the expense. His desk was large and oak, the chairs made to match. An impressive array of leather-bound books lined the twin shelves on either side of the desk, and a series of elegant, wrought-iron lamps decorated two desk corners and a side table along one wall. The art on the walls was changed every so often, to reflect the latest styles. Jarol had been in Dionos Afry's office enough times over the years to know the man would never be caught showing a piece from a has-been artist.
Like all dionosi, Afry wore the traditional robes befitting his status, but he of course added his own flair to them. Today his robes were dyed a deep red, the top clasp undone to show off a snow-white shirt beneath them. He had chosen to recall a more archaic look to the outfit, replacing the more modern middle sash with a simple silk cord, tied in the front and white as his shirt.
Jarol had to try very hard not to scowl as he stood impatiently in the doorway and waiting for Dionos Afry to acknowledge him.
"Jarol," the man said finally, glancing up from where he had been straightening a row of books. "You came quickly, good. Please, have a seat."
Jarol preferred to remain standing, but when a dionos told you to have a seat, it wasn't a suggestion. He picked the chair closest to the door and perched gingerly on the very edge.
"Now," said Afry, sitting in his own chair behind the desk and indicating a thick pile of papers tied with twine. "Do you know what these are?"
"No," said Jarol.
"Reports," said Afry. He fiddled with the end of the knot holding the twine tight, but did not untie the bundle. "About you."
Jarol swallowed, but nodded. He knew all the dionosi kept progress reports on their students, to be given in intervals to the student's sponsor. He had never seen his own--few students did--but the thickness of the bundle startled him. True, he had been at the Academy for eight years, but he also knew he wasn't exactly a stand-out member of his class. He, in fact, barely managed to pass most of his classes. And he'd never been a disciplinary problem, even with his tendency toward not entirely respectful remarks.
So why so many reports? Or was that normal?
"Jarol," Afry continued. "We've spoken of my concerns before."
Jarol nodded again. Many times. Dionos Afry did not like that one of the students he sponsored was last in his class. It made him look bad, and if there was anything Afry hated, it was looking bad. If this is going to be another lecture about classes, I wish he'd just skip it, Jarol thought. It's nothing I've never heard before and it's a waste of time.
He even thought about saying that out loud. What would Afry do? Lecture him more?
Before he could decide either way, Afry continued. "I did not want it to come to this, but my own reservations and the reports I have received from your instructors give me no other choice." He grimaced. "I am discontinuing your sponsorship."
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and even when they did, Jarol could make little sense of them. "But...if I don't have a sponsor I can't remain a student."
Afry nodded. "Correct."
"Then you want me to find a new sponsor?" The words were edged in panic, despite Jarol's best efforts. Who would agree to be his new sponsor? Most of his instructors despaired of him. Some of them outright hated him. He had no contacts among the upper levels of the administration. No highly-respected relatives or friends to vouch for him. And a terrible school record, so no one would be interested in him for his academic prowess.
Afry shook his head. "I'm afraid that will be impossible."
"I could find someone," said Jarol, defensive.
"You misunderstand me," said Afry. "You may not attempt to procure another sponsor. Your scholarship here is ended. Permanently."
Jarol could feel the blood draining from his face, leaving him light-headed. He gripped the arms of the chair. He would have to beg. He would have to debase himself in front of the dionos. But he realized in that moment some things were more important than pride. "I'll do better in classes. Please give me another chance." His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and the words came out garbled.
Dionos Afry, however, seemed to have no problem understanding. He patted the pile of reports. "You are intelligent, Jarol, though you only want to apply yourself in limited areas. You are mostly tolerable to be around, despite your sharp tongue. Your assistance to the scribes in the library has been noted and appreciated. Were your class performance the only issue, we could still work to make you a productive student of this Academy. But that is not the issue. You, simply, have insufficient talent."
It was his worst nightmare come true. The thing he ignored during the day, telling himself that his lack of success came from a disinterest in the more boring parts of academia. The thing that nevertheless invaded his thoughts at night, leaving him wondering if that was all it was, if maybe there wasn't something fundamentally broken about him. "I have talent!" he spat. "That's what you said, all those years ago when you found me. You said I had talent. You brought me here."
Afry shrugged, his face solemn. "Even the best of us make mistakes, Jarol." He sighed. "There is some talent in you, certainly. You would have never made it past the beginning classes if there was not. But there is not enough, and what you do have is poorly controlled."
"I can work on that!"
Afry shook his head. "I told myself the same for a long time. I believed that all you needed was motivation to work harder. But I have pored over these reports, Jarol. I have reviewed your progress from the first day you stepped inside the Academy walls. Your triumphs and your failures. And I am forced to conclude that your poor performance comes from lack of ability, not lack of will."
Jarol found he had no words. He could only gape at Dionos Afry.
"I am truly sorry, but you must be moved out of your quarters by the end of the week," said Afry. "It is a sad day when we have to turn away a student for lack of talent, but it happens. We must all move on."
"Move on?" said Jarol in a whisper. "Move on where? I have nowhere to go."
"You had a home, and a mother," said Afry. "As I was your sponsor and thus feel some responsibility toward you, I will pay for a coach to return you to your home village."
"No," said Jarol. "No, I will never go back there." He didn't even know if his mother was still alive, or if she still lived in the same village. He had been eight when he had last seen her, and she had only been too glad to get rid of him. He had always been unwanted.
Afry sighed. "What would you have me do, Jarol? I cannot adopt you or pay for your room and board. I cannot allow you to continue living in student quarters. You are sixteen and no longer obligated to have a guardian."
"So you're just going to leave me on the streets?" Jarol said. To his horror, tears were starting to pool in the corners of his eyes.
"You have skills," said Afry. "Your research abilities could get you work in any number of government offices. I will ask some of my friends in Parliament if they know of openings. But that is all I can do for you."
Jarol didn't want to work as a researcher in the government. What he loved more than anything was helping the scribes in the library. But scribes were all former students who had successfully graduated. No scribes without those credentials would ever be hired.
But maybe, if he could convince someone...not Afry. Afry had clearly reached the end of his sympathy, and Jarol had always thought the man was a moron. But he might be able to persuade the scribes he had worked with to support him.
"Jarol?" said Afry. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yes."
"Well," said Afry, sitting back in his chair. "That is all I wanted to speak to you about. You are dismissed."
Jarol immediately stood, though it was from habit, and there was a small part where he wondered why he was still showing the respect that had been instilled in him. What could Afry do to him now? But it might be better not to antagonize anyone, especially with the plans that were formulating in the back of his mind.
Because he had no intention to leave the Academy.
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Again, love the setting, but I kind of want your descriptions to be a little more precise - the opulent carpet, for instance - is it thick enough to sink into? Is it warm wool? What are the robes made out of? Is the chair he's perched on the edge of delicate, so he's afraid to damage it? (Maybe I am a teeny bit of a textile nerd.) Jarol's physical reactions are fantastic; I think the rest of the descriptions can be that tactile.
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Description is my main weak point, it is true.
Thank you for reading.
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!
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Thanks for reading!
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Nice job. I love the progressions of his thoughts.
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Thanks for readingg!
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I wonder if his problem really is a lack of talent, or if there's something else.
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The main problem really is that he doesn't have much magical talent, which is a problem in a school set up specifically to cultivate and train people with magical talent. But his teachers and peers probably did not weep tears over his being kicked out, either.
Thanks for reading!