- 20th of Winter, 518
"The Lie, in my humble opinion, is the greatest tool a Spiritist has. Who can tell me why?"
Madeira sat upon her desk in her classroom in the Dusk Tower, looking resplendent and less than humble in yellow satin and diamonds, her black cane across her knees. In the first two rows of student desks in front of her was her paltry class of aspiring teachers, both Dusk's and their alumni. Moonlight was filtering through the high windows, and lit scones blazed along the walls, so the strange mix of silver and gold light cut interesting shadows across the floor. In the second row a burly man with a proud twist of a mustachio raised a hand.
"Mister Royce?"
"I appreciate the refresher, Miss. But we have already learned this particular skill. Some of us over a decade ago. I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd appreciate something more challenging."
Madeira shifted in her seat, massaging the heel of her hand into her aching lower back as a chorus of nods followed his statement. She was starting to miss the bratty teenagers she used to instruct. They were disrespectful and full of piss and vinegar, but at least she didn't have to fight them tooth and nail for every inch of ground. This class full of distinguished and accomplished adults had forgotten what it means to follow someone else's lead.
"I understand, but I need to see how you handle the basics before I move you on to something more difficult."
"With all due respect, Aldgare Dusk himself taught us these basics."
"And sir Dusk will be right behind you demonstrating his abilities for me", she flared up, forgetting herself in her frustration. She cleared her throat and nodded to the quiet old man in the back row. "With your permission, sir."
Aldgare smiled his disarmingly friendly smile, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Of course, professor."
The rest of the class seemed less than willing, even with the support of the patriarch. If she plowed through with the lesson and ordered them to listen no doubt they would. But she would lose a little of the already thin respect she had fought from them in the process. Stupid, stubborn Aurists, she grumbled inwardly, looking down on a sea of impassive faces who clearly saw this all as a waste of time.
"Alright, how about this." she sighed, frustrated that she has to stoop to negotiating with her own class. "Since you all know the technique, how about we jump straight to the test. And if half of you pass we will skip this lesson entirely and move on to something else."
Hard lines softened and the low, contemptuous energy in the room began to perceptively lighten. Nods and verbal agreements peppered themselves among the students. "That's very reasonable, Miss", Royce spoke above the rest. "Thank you."
Don't thank me yet, Madeira sniped internally. You'll be first in line.
"This is a good time to demonstrate something I'll be teaching later in the year. Ghost Invocation is an advanced ability"
She slid from the desk, landing unsteadily on her feet. Twisting the handle of the cane she pulled out two centimeters of the blade within. Throwing back her puffy sleeve she found an ever narrowing patch of skin on her forearm not scabbed over or thatched with scars and made a thin vertical slice. Impatiently she shook some blood out on the nearest students desk, to their faint disgust.
"This glyph will become very, very important as you advance your skills" she explained, motioning those at the back to stand to see the sixteen point star she was scribbling on the desk in her own blood. "I've just recently discovered that it's called 'alahea', and in the old tongue it means to reach that which is unreachable.
"Now, I keep the offered soulmist in these hollow rings I wear", she flashed the gaudy jewels on her hands. "But any way you choose to store it is fine. You just place the mist in the middle" she placed her hand flat into the rapidly crusting star. "concentrate upon who you wish to summon, using the piece of them you own to call to the rest of them. Then, when you have them firmly in hand, you call them by name."
Bending her head, she breathed deep and called her servant.
"Jomi!"
WC: 737
Madeira sat upon her desk in her classroom in the Dusk Tower, looking resplendent and less than humble in yellow satin and diamonds, her black cane across her knees. In the first two rows of student desks in front of her was her paltry class of aspiring teachers, both Dusk's and their alumni. Moonlight was filtering through the high windows, and lit scones blazed along the walls, so the strange mix of silver and gold light cut interesting shadows across the floor. In the second row a burly man with a proud twist of a mustachio raised a hand.
"Mister Royce?"
"I appreciate the refresher, Miss. But we have already learned this particular skill. Some of us over a decade ago. I think I speak for all of us when I say we'd appreciate something more challenging."
Madeira shifted in her seat, massaging the heel of her hand into her aching lower back as a chorus of nods followed his statement. She was starting to miss the bratty teenagers she used to instruct. They were disrespectful and full of piss and vinegar, but at least she didn't have to fight them tooth and nail for every inch of ground. This class full of distinguished and accomplished adults had forgotten what it means to follow someone else's lead.
"I understand, but I need to see how you handle the basics before I move you on to something more difficult."
"With all due respect, Aldgare Dusk himself taught us these basics."
"And sir Dusk will be right behind you demonstrating his abilities for me", she flared up, forgetting herself in her frustration. She cleared her throat and nodded to the quiet old man in the back row. "With your permission, sir."
Aldgare smiled his disarmingly friendly smile, eyes twinkling in amusement. "Of course, professor."
The rest of the class seemed less than willing, even with the support of the patriarch. If she plowed through with the lesson and ordered them to listen no doubt they would. But she would lose a little of the already thin respect she had fought from them in the process. Stupid, stubborn Aurists, she grumbled inwardly, looking down on a sea of impassive faces who clearly saw this all as a waste of time.
"Alright, how about this." she sighed, frustrated that she has to stoop to negotiating with her own class. "Since you all know the technique, how about we jump straight to the test. And if half of you pass we will skip this lesson entirely and move on to something else."
Hard lines softened and the low, contemptuous energy in the room began to perceptively lighten. Nods and verbal agreements peppered themselves among the students. "That's very reasonable, Miss", Royce spoke above the rest. "Thank you."
Don't thank me yet, Madeira sniped internally. You'll be first in line.
"This is a good time to demonstrate something I'll be teaching later in the year. Ghost Invocation is an advanced ability"
She slid from the desk, landing unsteadily on her feet. Twisting the handle of the cane she pulled out two centimeters of the blade within. Throwing back her puffy sleeve she found an ever narrowing patch of skin on her forearm not scabbed over or thatched with scars and made a thin vertical slice. Impatiently she shook some blood out on the nearest students desk, to their faint disgust.
"This glyph will become very, very important as you advance your skills" she explained, motioning those at the back to stand to see the sixteen point star she was scribbling on the desk in her own blood. "I've just recently discovered that it's called 'alahea', and in the old tongue it means to reach that which is unreachable.
"Now, I keep the offered soulmist in these hollow rings I wear", she flashed the gaudy jewels on her hands. "But any way you choose to store it is fine. You just place the mist in the middle" she placed her hand flat into the rapidly crusting star. "concentrate upon who you wish to summon, using the piece of them you own to call to the rest of them. Then, when you have them firmly in hand, you call them by name."
Bending her head, she breathed deep and called her servant.
"Jomi!"
WC: 737
x
