Flame and Frost; Beginnings

Open for Play
The Six Kingdom's most prestigious university and the de facto cultural capital of Anaxas.

The Stacks | Ghost Town | Muffey

User avatar
Eirik Maste
Posts: 36
Joined: Thu Feb 28, 2019 4:06 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: CS
Plot Notes: Grumpy Scribbles
Writer: Mythic
Post Templates: Codes
Contact:

Sat Mar 09, 2019 12:31 am

7th of Intas, 2719
Image
The absolute best way to practice countermagic is with practical application. However, the pair of you are prohibited from using dangerous elements. Use a hydrosmosis spell, Cassius. In the likely event of Eirik's failure, I'd rather him not burst into flames," he continued. Eirik shook his head, quite perturbed by the turn of events. Professor Dublin Phore was well respected within Brunnhold, but even the youngest student in the class expected that this wasn't a good idea. The students took to him poorly, and despite his warnings and advisement, he had the feeling this could go very wrong.

Being thrust headfirst into danger seems exactly like the sort of thing to put the youngest student in, he mused. However, despite his apprehension, excitement compiled within him. The basic theory of countermagic was something he'd learned in his foundational instruction. Now, he had to prove himself deserving of the advancement he was given.

I didn't ask for this, but damn it if I'm going back for another year of 'basic instruction,' he insisted. While the Gioran boy mused, he senses a shiver in the field before him. The Anaxan boy in front of him held himself straight, and his lips quivered with the utterance of Monite. Cassius' countenance was marred with dislike, and the single syllable uttered was very much not the hydrosmosis that was requested of him. The shiver of the mona was undeniable, and immediately, Eirik raised his hands. He uttered the appropriate counterspell and yet... The mona around him wavered. The flames began to encompass Eirik's shoulder, blistering heat immediately singing his skin.

Eirik yelled out, pushing back on his heels and throwing himself to the ground. He rolled on the floor, dirt staining his thick coat and rolling onto the thick, padded pants he wore. The fabric was ruined, his arm pink and shiny, the hairs frazzled as the damage was done immediately. The professor began to step in, however, Eirik had other plans. He breached into the mona before him, his lips pursed before a Monite snarl escaped his lips. The mona lashed forth, and immediately, a heavy chill poured shivers down the arrogant Anaxian's spine. Frost began to gather along his tongue, cracking at his skin before the tendrils of ice formed along his eyebrows. Immediately, he fell to the earth, shivering violently. The professor, who'd been making his way towards Eirik, immediately changed in direction. He ran towards Cassius, leaving the shivering and disgruntled Eirik to his own devices. Dublin Phore immediately reversed the effects of Eirik's spell, then sent two students to escort Cassius to the infirmary.

"This was a bad idea. Class is dismissed! You, Eirik, come with me."

Eirik shrugged his shoulders, a hiss escaping him as he obliged the professor. He too was escorted to the hospital wing, but separated from Cassius. The galdor attendant began weaving Living mona, and though the hairs on his arm were beyond repair, the child (who'd begun to wince from the pain of his burns after an adrenaline response faded away) felt his arm and shoulder soothe with a pleasant, humming sensation. The pink flesh gradually cooled, and the Gioran looked to his instructor, expecting a verbal lashing.

"You didn't perform the counterspell correctly... And yet, you created frostbite? What are you hiding from us, Eirik?"

The galdor shrugged his shoulders again, and noticed the grimoire in his instructor's hand, brought with him.

"You know already, don't you? It's right in your hands. I've... been studying... a lot."

"Clearly. This is... unexpected. We might need to recommend you to Professor Sonfield for more advanced lessons."

Oh?

Last edited by Eirik Maste on Sat Mar 09, 2019 11:01 pm, edited 2 times in total.
User avatar
Eirik Maste
Posts: 36
Joined: Thu Feb 28, 2019 4:06 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: CS
Plot Notes: Grumpy Scribbles
Writer: Mythic
Post Templates: Codes
Contact:

Sat Mar 09, 2019 1:41 am

7th of Intas, 2719
Image
More advanced lessons?" the Gioran asked, in need of clarification. Eirik expected nothing but retribution for lashing out at a student, even if it was justified. Always the recipient of the blame, always the bearer of misfortune... Eirik Maste was the quiet horror, a specter in the daylight that even his fellow Giorans preferred to shy away from. I don't belong, he recognized, and as such, he never expected reward when the obvious choice was punishment.

"Would you rather pawn me off to another professor? Is that what this is?" he asked. Rather than betraying the hurt, the constant recognition of others' desire to push him away, his voice was cold and unwavering. Eirik sat on the infirmary bed as the nurse tended to his wounds, the kindly galdor's features suffused with a mixture of pity and astonishment.

It's a fair question. What're you looking at, huh? he thought, his pink irises wide, breathing shallowly with the whirlwind of sensation that crawled beneath his skin. The burns on his arm were still felt, even as the tissue began to repair itself and the damage melted away. However, more wounding still was the agony in his chest. Unprompted and underserved was the violence at the hands of the cur Cassius, and though he wore his mask of bitterness, the cracked visage revealed all of the pain that dwelled within his soul.

Then, Professor Phore did something that Eirik would've never expected. The professor reached forward, brushing the nurse's hand away from Eirik as arms curled around the Gioran's shoulders. A firm embrace, one that the frail child had no way of escaping, and yet... he didn't even try. Thin features melded against the professor's coat, and his body visibly shook as he allowed the expanse of his distress to crash down. The cascade was held back by a dam of sarcasm and defiance... only to be torn apart and eroded into nothingness by the simple expression of affection.

"That's not what this is at all, Eirik. I teach basic uses of Static conversation, my dear boy. Professor Sonfield is a far better instructor for someone of your talents. We haven't even gotten far into the year and you're already far beyond students more than a year your senior!" The praises lavished Eirik's eardrums, and he found himself separating from Phore's grasp. Pale pink met with the faint pink spidered lines along his schlera. The Gioran did his utmost to ignore the caked streams that dried against his cheeks, as well as the dampness on Professor Phore's coat. Eirik Maste always hid from his emotions, and the outburst now struck him as a buildup that demanded discharging. It reminded him of Static magic itself, how the mona charged the particles in the air, accelerating them to the point of ignition.

Is this why Static Conversation comes so naturally? he mused as the Professor continued to speak,

"You belong in classes that suit your talents, my boy. Clearly, you've taught yourself far better than I could have... What you need is challenges at the level of proficiency that you're exhibiting. When I leave, I'll write a letter to Professor Sonfield and tell her to speak to you privately... I don't know what it is about you, Eirik... But the other students. How do I..." he trailed off, looking towards the wall before he turned back towards the Gioran.

"The other students just don't like you. If I had to guess, they're threatened. It's rare for students to take to Conversation so well. Usually they need to find themselves and their place along the mona. But you're something else. It's exceptionally rare for a student to take a focus until their sixth year! And yet... you're going to be in an intermediate class. I don't think your troubles will end with Cassius, Eirik. But... you shouldn't be held back just because people are jealous of you."

Jealous. That's rich. They hate me. And who could blame them?

The venom Eirik Maste held in his heart was never vocalized. It stayed deep within his soul, forming tiny tears that accumulated. More and more the weight stacked until he could no longer bear it... Breaking was always easier than keeping integrity, a lesson that Eirik might learn again and again without retaining it.

"Understood," he answered at last, the tears on his face dried and the bitterness abandoned in the wake of Phore's admittance. "Am I to visit Professor Sonfield immediately?"

"Oh, no. She's likely in a class and well... look at you, boy. You're a mess. Take the rest of the morning off. You have another class later, don't you? If you're anything like you are in my class in your others... I'm certain that you're far enough ahead to take the day off and relax. Just don't freeze anyone else with your extended free time, hmm?"

A shaky chuckle moved Eirik's shoulders as Professor Phore rose to his feet and promptly exited the infirmary. Leaving the Gioran with a great deal to process, the nurse looked to Eirik next. She bent forward, her short form only requiring a slight incline as she pressed her lips to his forehead.

"Kids... they don't know how to handle complicated things like jealousy, Eirik. Just keep your head up and forge your path. You'll be so far ahead that their words won't be able to reach you."

Eyes fell shut as the Gioran took a deep, staggered breath, and he nodded in acceptance before she too left him alone with his thoughts.
User avatar
Eirik Maste
Posts: 36
Joined: Thu Feb 28, 2019 4:06 pm
Topics: 8
Race: Galdor
Character Sheet: CS
Plot Notes: Grumpy Scribbles
Writer: Mythic
Post Templates: Codes
Contact:

Sat Mar 09, 2019 3:05 am

7th of Intas, 2719
Image
That's not what this is at all, Eirik...
You belong in classes that suit your talents, my boy.

I don't know what it is about you, Eirik... But the other students...
The other students just don't like you.


Eirik didn't leave the infirmary immediately. Ignored assurances that Eirik could stay as long as he needed cast throughout before the nurse left... but the Gioran was elsewhere. The world fell away as the boy delved deep into the nothingness. First, he felt only himself, and the sorrows that attacked his soul. Then, he felt the rage that overwhelmed him. It surrounded his fragile heart, a cloak of fire that emanated forth and lashed out indiscriminately. But, beyond either... he felt the mona. Eirik Maste ignored the trifles that encompassed his being, and felt the wax and wane of the particles that surrounded him. Lips parted, his weak voice coaxing the mona into motion. The particles swayed at his behest, and he uttered the same syllable over and over again. Several inches above his palm, faint crackling began to coalesce. The particles in the air collided with one another, visible sparks forming over his palm before they turned to flame. A deep breath ceased his conversation with the mona, a surge of pleasure coursing throughout his spine.

The sparks aggregated over his palm, at last bursting into flame as the air pulled into the maelstrom of sparks. Heat licked at the Gioran's palm before it dissipated. In the echoes of his casting, Eirik felt a chill rolled through his spine. Affirmation rolled into his senses, and a smile coaxed its way upon his visage before he climbed to his feet.

She's likely in a class and well... look at you, boy. You're a mess. Take the rest of the morning off...

A hiss escaped the galdor's lips as he exited the infirmary with his grimoire in hand. Glad to be out of the terrible cold of the outside world, Eirik wasn't keen to return outside. Instead, he made a beeline straight for his dormitory. He tossed his grimoire on his desk, land looked to his hands. He felt the calm of his meditation into the mona, and beneath it, the anxiety that had gripped him. Between his lecture from Professor Phore, the encouragement from the nurse and his own self-deprecating words uttered in frustration, Eirik Maste was in a flux. Introspection was a quality he possessed, knowing himself far better than anyone in Brunnhold could and yet... the adults saw him in a light he might never be able to. They saw the talent... they saw the damage and yet... they focused entirely on the first. A smile cast onto the galdor's features as he threw himself onto his bed. He stared up at the peeling paint of the ceiling, slowly gazing deeper and deeper until his gaze flickered to the blackness of imagination. The stress of the day brushed by the wayside, Eirik surrendered to the darkness of sleep.

Maybe tomorrow will be better, he hoped, never quite convinced that it would be.
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic

Return to “Brunnhold”

  • Information
  • Who is online

    Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests