“Foxwell isn’t a bad source, but amounts to little more than observational sociology,” Vincent stated, finally turning his attention fully to Drysi, but his demeanor actually looked softer than before. “Might I recommend Bernard Walsh. Similar approach, but with a larger basis in statistics and moderating variables. Also, let me know if you need any assistance with peer review.”
“Halifax has some similar publications, but she’s got a limited scope that’s caused issues with using her works as case studies,” Goose added.
“Yeah yeah yeah, nerd names,” Brooke interjected as she once again was leaning over the table to be closer to Drysi. “But I’ll also be a peer review, and can even be another data thing if ya… uh…”
“Need a broader test group,” Goose whispered to her.
“Yeah! Broader group! That!” Brooke followed up excitedly.
Meanwhile
Dez came around to collect the other familiars. With a patient hand the macaque offered to lift Gideon up to coil around her shoulders so that she could carry Bowie and Tucker with her free hands. With the familiars gathered the monkey began to hop along and jog through the dining hall. As the druids continued their discussion, Dez carried her charges deftly through the halls and down the stairs, and with practiced motions took corners and darted between passing druids. Once they were on the ground floor she darted down a side hall. Once they reached the end they were greeted by large double doors which Dez opened just enough to squeeze through.
Gideon now found himself in a long wide room. The floor was stone tile spread with hay, the walls were carefully constructed masonry, and there were numerous stalls built all along the walls. In the stalls, around the stalls, and even on the stalls were a kingdom’s worth of animal variety. Despite being a stable filled with animals, at most there were two horses and one zebra. Knowing exactly where to go, Dez scurried along the stalls, occasionally offering waves and nods to occasional familiars. A handful of wolves, a variety of bears including a panda, even a titanic sized anaconda gave Gideon a greeting as it lounged on top of a mammoth sized African bush elephant. Still Dez continued on.
“Aashvi! We’re here to visit, and we brought a new friend,” Dez said excitedly as she neared the back corner of the stables.
”Is that so?” came a deep feminine voice that was rich and warm like a fine curry. From around the corner of the stall strode a beautifully fierce looking Bengal tiger. With a casual look, the tiger looked at Gideon with eyes larger than the snake’s head. A motion of her head invited the others into her stall. Bowie didn’t waste time in leaping from Dez’s arm and trotting into the stall behind Aashvi. Dez then carried the other two in as well. The tigress lounged in the back corner beside a sleeping panther and lounging lynx; Bowie had jumped onto Aashvi’s back and already looked to be dozing off. Tucker looked excited to join the cozy share of warmth and began walking on air as Dez carried him closer before setting him down. In turn, Dez also extended her arm to give Gideon an easy avenue if he felt like getting down, but let him know he was welcome to stay on her shoulders as she took a seat in front of the large cat.
”Well then, it is a pleasure to meet you, young one. As you have heard, I am Aashvi, familiar to Satya of the Eighth Circle,” the tigress looked as calm as could be as she looked at Gideon.
[The Keep] Walking to Skye
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“I am lacking a perspective on newly trained keepers,” the thought simmered atop Drysi’s mind, wanting to chomp at the bit at academic discussion, “It would be nice to have a more intimate understanding of how combatants are trained in this generation. If I had more than a day, I’d probably ask for some demonstrations.”
Having other people review her work would be a dream, there were very few people who understood the depth of what she was doing back at Safeholme. Johann was a reliable source sometimes, but his dyslexia made him unreliable for reviewing large papers. The Austrian was terribly smart, but it would take a year and a half to get a conclusion from him. She’d need a way to make copies.
“I appreciate the recommendations, I’ll have to look into them. Mr. Flynn recommended Walsh, but I found some of his conclusions a bit dry, but that was just his publication of Battle Fatigue of the Modern Mage,” Drysi explained, not proud to admit she wasn’t willing to consume something because it was not evidently understandable. She looked around the table, and realized she had been talking for a while, and reached back to her hair. The empty weight around her shoulders made her self-conscious, and a bit nervous.
“But, we’ve been talkin’ a lot of my work,” deflected the Triclops, “what exactly are you all doin’ for your circles at the moment?”
At the same time, Gideon was coiling over Desdemona’s shoulders as he felt the electric and alien freedom of individuality. He had never done anything away from Drysi before, and though this was exciting, it was also a little scary. Wrapping himself like a shawl on Dez’s shoulders brought a little familiarity, and, in doing so, restored his ability to speak.
”Hello Aashvi, I am Gideon, familiar to Drysi of the third circle,” his voice felt small in comparison, and his instinct to freeze and hide were evident as he buried his face under one of his coils. Aashvi was large, yet strangely entrancing. More than that, Gideon began to realize that a lot of the familiars seemed to sound much older than he was. Only Tucker seemed like he was similar to him in age. Yet, all their druids seemed to be roughly as old as the next.
So many things about his life had been innate understanding: his role as a familiar, the ceremony and his connection to Drysi. These realizations were almost unsettling in their newness.
”You’ll have to forgive me, this is all so new,” Gideon’s calm, even voice didn’t match the words, but he continued, ”most of my time is spent with my druid, and she sequesters herself mostly. I don’t get out much except to hunt toads by the river on our property.”
The snake slowly poked his head out a bit more, ”It only makes sense that there are as many of us as there are druids in the Keep, and that we are as varied as nature itself. To see it, though, is overwhelming.”
Then he wobbled to one side, ”I had the impression that I would always grow at the same pace as my druid, mentally, but some of you sound like you have grown at different paces.”
Having other people review her work would be a dream, there were very few people who understood the depth of what she was doing back at Safeholme. Johann was a reliable source sometimes, but his dyslexia made him unreliable for reviewing large papers. The Austrian was terribly smart, but it would take a year and a half to get a conclusion from him. She’d need a way to make copies.
“I appreciate the recommendations, I’ll have to look into them. Mr. Flynn recommended Walsh, but I found some of his conclusions a bit dry, but that was just his publication of Battle Fatigue of the Modern Mage,” Drysi explained, not proud to admit she wasn’t willing to consume something because it was not evidently understandable. She looked around the table, and realized she had been talking for a while, and reached back to her hair. The empty weight around her shoulders made her self-conscious, and a bit nervous.
“But, we’ve been talkin’ a lot of my work,” deflected the Triclops, “what exactly are you all doin’ for your circles at the moment?”
At the same time, Gideon was coiling over Desdemona’s shoulders as he felt the electric and alien freedom of individuality. He had never done anything away from Drysi before, and though this was exciting, it was also a little scary. Wrapping himself like a shawl on Dez’s shoulders brought a little familiarity, and, in doing so, restored his ability to speak.
”Hello Aashvi, I am Gideon, familiar to Drysi of the third circle,” his voice felt small in comparison, and his instinct to freeze and hide were evident as he buried his face under one of his coils. Aashvi was large, yet strangely entrancing. More than that, Gideon began to realize that a lot of the familiars seemed to sound much older than he was. Only Tucker seemed like he was similar to him in age. Yet, all their druids seemed to be roughly as old as the next.
So many things about his life had been innate understanding: his role as a familiar, the ceremony and his connection to Drysi. These realizations were almost unsettling in their newness.
”You’ll have to forgive me, this is all so new,” Gideon’s calm, even voice didn’t match the words, but he continued, ”most of my time is spent with my druid, and she sequesters herself mostly. I don’t get out much except to hunt toads by the river on our property.”
The snake slowly poked his head out a bit more, ”It only makes sense that there are as many of us as there are druids in the Keep, and that we are as varied as nature itself. To see it, though, is overwhelming.”
Then he wobbled to one side, ”I had the impression that I would always grow at the same pace as my druid, mentally, but some of you sound like you have grown at different paces.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
"I mean, I not 'xactly newly trained. Been a Keeper for 'bout three years now," Brooke started as she looked to relax a bit. "Best. Sweet Sixteen. Ever."
"She says, but struggles with magical variety," Goose added, continuing his trend. Brooke slugged the young boy.
"I don't struggle with variety, I just excel at a very specific genre," the American made her rebuttal.
"Genre isn't really the right..." Goose began before Brooke slugged him quicker.
"Brooke's pretty top when it comes to sonic magic," Satya added.
"Sure am! Coulda been a Keeper earlier if I'd found my niche earlier." The punk girl brushed her knuckles proudly. "But otherwise, I'm trainin' here at the Keep to become someday become a Keeper-on-the-Wall. Ideally I'd like to become the Keeper of New York, but that would mean my master either retires or dies. I'd rather prefer he stay alive, but on that note he's got a small detective agency that he runs as a part of his duties in the city; not 'xactly successful since most peeps just think he's some crack pot that thinks magic is real, but he's passionate about it so he ain't likely ta retire neither."
"Couldn't you just go and work with him as a partner at the agency?" Lucia asked, finally speaking up again.
"An' play second fiddle? Nah. Well... maybe someday, but in the meantime I want to earn one o'those sweet pauldrons."
"I'm studying to be an Archivist, myself. Been a druid for about five months," Goose began, seeing a lull in Brooke's explanation. "I've always enjoyed history, and the Histories chronicled here in the Keep are awe inspiring. The level of detail the Archivists of old used was second to none."
"Sure, iffen ya want ta read 'bout how many pieces of straw were used to thatch Old Man Robin's roof in the fall o' fourteen-eighty-five," Brooke jumped at a chance to make her own quip.
"Average number of straw pieces per square foot, then the number of square feet of the roof. Straightforward number with slight deviation, but important for understanding how much yield goes to construction as opposed to livestock and trade. Helpful for taxes and tithes," Vincent didn't bother looking up from what he was reading, and thus missed the return of Brooke's bulldog glower.
"Vinny wants to be an accountant," Brooke chided.
"Vincent wants to work for Ard Rhys Clarke's company someday," Vincent added some vinegar to his response.
"Well, um, you already heard about what I'm doing," Lucia's soft voice once again found an opening. "I'm studying rejuvenating magic so I can take the test to join the Healers."
"And I'm studying ecology," Satya contentedly brought up the rear. "I want to help endangered animals, both by helping with their natural habitats, and by feeding poachers to Aashvi." The beastkeeper gave a half joking laugh. "In the meantime, the Keep is a pretty comfortable place to learn. Havent been a druid for as long as Brooke, and I'm just behind Vinny at two years a druid."
In the Stables
"There is nothing to forgive," Aashvi's voice seemed to radiate warmth. As she continued to speak she looked down to Tucker who had happily plodded over to one of her front legs. With a massive paw that dwarfed the pond turtle Aashvi nudged Tucker up into the crook of her leg, and the turtle almost immediately looked to begin dozing off. "Just because we are magical guides, doesn't mean we magically know all the right answers. To an extent, our knowledge is equivalent to that of our druids. Thus, when we are born, we know an astounding amount compared to how long we have lived. Years of knowledge and experience pour into such fragile and formative minds. As such, we age at a remarkable rate compared to our natural brethren, and as we near a certain point in our growth it begins to slow, and eventually stop all together. For the most part the process takes a few years, with a variation given for how each of us matures, but that knowledge is beyond me. As for our voices, that is hard to explain."
"Way I've figured it is that our voices are influenced by perception. How our druid thinks we should sound, and how we think we should sound," Bowie's dulcet baritone joined the discussion as the smaller cat dozed on Aashvi's shoulder. "Take that Laoise, for example; that Master Flynn's familiar. She's a dove, and supposedly sounds lovely. Wouldn't it be ironic if a dove spoke like one of those toads you hunt? Even myself. I don't sing, but Brooke does and has based a lot of her life around music; and thus I developed a voice like this."
"Purely observational," Tucker remarked, his tone sounding sleepy. "For the most part people and familiars just have the voices we have, and sometimes we don't have voices that seem to fit. Like Gideon and the other snakes, he doesn't hiss."
"Why would he his while thinking, Tuck?" Bowie asked, more to gauge the turtles thoughts than out of curiosity.
"It's how most of us think snakes sound, isn't it? Same with Aashvi, she sounds warm and comforting, not growly and intimidating."
"Fair point."
"She says, but struggles with magical variety," Goose added, continuing his trend. Brooke slugged the young boy.
"I don't struggle with variety, I just excel at a very specific genre," the American made her rebuttal.
"Genre isn't really the right..." Goose began before Brooke slugged him quicker.
"Brooke's pretty top when it comes to sonic magic," Satya added.
"Sure am! Coulda been a Keeper earlier if I'd found my niche earlier." The punk girl brushed her knuckles proudly. "But otherwise, I'm trainin' here at the Keep to become someday become a Keeper-on-the-Wall. Ideally I'd like to become the Keeper of New York, but that would mean my master either retires or dies. I'd rather prefer he stay alive, but on that note he's got a small detective agency that he runs as a part of his duties in the city; not 'xactly successful since most peeps just think he's some crack pot that thinks magic is real, but he's passionate about it so he ain't likely ta retire neither."
"Couldn't you just go and work with him as a partner at the agency?" Lucia asked, finally speaking up again.
"An' play second fiddle? Nah. Well... maybe someday, but in the meantime I want to earn one o'those sweet pauldrons."
"I'm studying to be an Archivist, myself. Been a druid for about five months," Goose began, seeing a lull in Brooke's explanation. "I've always enjoyed history, and the Histories chronicled here in the Keep are awe inspiring. The level of detail the Archivists of old used was second to none."
"Sure, iffen ya want ta read 'bout how many pieces of straw were used to thatch Old Man Robin's roof in the fall o' fourteen-eighty-five," Brooke jumped at a chance to make her own quip.
"Average number of straw pieces per square foot, then the number of square feet of the roof. Straightforward number with slight deviation, but important for understanding how much yield goes to construction as opposed to livestock and trade. Helpful for taxes and tithes," Vincent didn't bother looking up from what he was reading, and thus missed the return of Brooke's bulldog glower.
"Vinny wants to be an accountant," Brooke chided.
"Vincent wants to work for Ard Rhys Clarke's company someday," Vincent added some vinegar to his response.
"Well, um, you already heard about what I'm doing," Lucia's soft voice once again found an opening. "I'm studying rejuvenating magic so I can take the test to join the Healers."
"And I'm studying ecology," Satya contentedly brought up the rear. "I want to help endangered animals, both by helping with their natural habitats, and by feeding poachers to Aashvi." The beastkeeper gave a half joking laugh. "In the meantime, the Keep is a pretty comfortable place to learn. Havent been a druid for as long as Brooke, and I'm just behind Vinny at two years a druid."
In the Stables
"There is nothing to forgive," Aashvi's voice seemed to radiate warmth. As she continued to speak she looked down to Tucker who had happily plodded over to one of her front legs. With a massive paw that dwarfed the pond turtle Aashvi nudged Tucker up into the crook of her leg, and the turtle almost immediately looked to begin dozing off. "Just because we are magical guides, doesn't mean we magically know all the right answers. To an extent, our knowledge is equivalent to that of our druids. Thus, when we are born, we know an astounding amount compared to how long we have lived. Years of knowledge and experience pour into such fragile and formative minds. As such, we age at a remarkable rate compared to our natural brethren, and as we near a certain point in our growth it begins to slow, and eventually stop all together. For the most part the process takes a few years, with a variation given for how each of us matures, but that knowledge is beyond me. As for our voices, that is hard to explain."
"Way I've figured it is that our voices are influenced by perception. How our druid thinks we should sound, and how we think we should sound," Bowie's dulcet baritone joined the discussion as the smaller cat dozed on Aashvi's shoulder. "Take that Laoise, for example; that Master Flynn's familiar. She's a dove, and supposedly sounds lovely. Wouldn't it be ironic if a dove spoke like one of those toads you hunt? Even myself. I don't sing, but Brooke does and has based a lot of her life around music; and thus I developed a voice like this."
"Purely observational," Tucker remarked, his tone sounding sleepy. "For the most part people and familiars just have the voices we have, and sometimes we don't have voices that seem to fit. Like Gideon and the other snakes, he doesn't hiss."
"Why would he his while thinking, Tuck?" Bowie asked, more to gauge the turtles thoughts than out of curiosity.
"It's how most of us think snakes sound, isn't it? Same with Aashvi, she sounds warm and comforting, not growly and intimidating."
"Fair point."
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
”It is interesting you bring up Laoise,” Gideon gently circled on Dez’s shoulders so he could better look at the other familiars, ”She sounds no different as a dove as she does in her human form. Tucker mentioned that the snakes don’t hiss, but instead talk like I do, like a human. Is the voice more a piece of our bond with our druid? Or is it the piece of what seems to be humanity that we are granted during the ceremony?”
The tiger keelback rose a little higher as his curiosity guided him down this path, ”Laoise the Dove’s human form physically produces the sound of the voice of her mind from her natural form, as if it belongs more to the human than the dove. That part has always confused me.”
Drysi could feel Gideon on the other end of her connection, it was a strange sensation with how far away he was. The connection to his thoughts and emotions was dulled by distance, but she could vaguely make out an emotion that resembled excitement. Since it felt more like a good kind of excitement, Drysi chose not to worry too much about it. As long as Gideon was inside the Keep, he wasn’t subject to the same risks as he was when he wandered Safeholme.
Instead, she tried to pre-occupy her mind with what her motivations were, exactly. Everyone had some substantial goals, but when Drysi rounded back to her own, it mostly revolved around kill Alexei. As silly as it sounded, once Drysi had come to accept Willow’s departure from the druid path, she had zeroed in on a different goal. All that had remained after one stripped away the love and anxiety was a hate that was constantly kindled by the evidence of the suffering the evil druid had caused her master, his friends, and her own.
All of the other druid's goals sounded so innocent, and good. Her own motivations seemed almost… evil in a way, despite the noble intentions. She was feeding the hate in her heart. All the same, she wanted to admit her goals, too. Was there anything good guiding her goals?
“Oh well… I… I-... I am going to—... create a future… where my master doesn’t need to fight anymore,” the words spilled out her mouth. Her eyes widened, as she realized the sudden vulnerability expressed in her words, and she tugged up her shawl a bit.
It took a few seconds for her to catch that the admission was vague, if not direct. So she carried on, embarrassed now, but determinedly speaking, her fingers clenching her wooly shoulder-cloak that layered over her druid cloak, “I will end the war with the dark with my work. I’ve seen evil, and I can only imagine what Master Flynn has seen with the ten years he has on me.”
For some reason, she couldn’t feel but self-conscious of how red her face was getting. It was so bold and cool to say it in the heat of the moment, but not quite so much around your peers who were very much your age. Drysi's eyes were deadly serious, despite the embarrassment, but she had to look at someone, so she chose to look at Brooke.
“Master Flynn will slay the dark, and he will do it with my spell.”
The tiger keelback rose a little higher as his curiosity guided him down this path, ”Laoise the Dove’s human form physically produces the sound of the voice of her mind from her natural form, as if it belongs more to the human than the dove. That part has always confused me.”
Drysi could feel Gideon on the other end of her connection, it was a strange sensation with how far away he was. The connection to his thoughts and emotions was dulled by distance, but she could vaguely make out an emotion that resembled excitement. Since it felt more like a good kind of excitement, Drysi chose not to worry too much about it. As long as Gideon was inside the Keep, he wasn’t subject to the same risks as he was when he wandered Safeholme.
Instead, she tried to pre-occupy her mind with what her motivations were, exactly. Everyone had some substantial goals, but when Drysi rounded back to her own, it mostly revolved around kill Alexei. As silly as it sounded, once Drysi had come to accept Willow’s departure from the druid path, she had zeroed in on a different goal. All that had remained after one stripped away the love and anxiety was a hate that was constantly kindled by the evidence of the suffering the evil druid had caused her master, his friends, and her own.
All of the other druid's goals sounded so innocent, and good. Her own motivations seemed almost… evil in a way, despite the noble intentions. She was feeding the hate in her heart. All the same, she wanted to admit her goals, too. Was there anything good guiding her goals?
“Oh well… I… I-... I am going to—... create a future… where my master doesn’t need to fight anymore,” the words spilled out her mouth. Her eyes widened, as she realized the sudden vulnerability expressed in her words, and she tugged up her shawl a bit.
It took a few seconds for her to catch that the admission was vague, if not direct. So she carried on, embarrassed now, but determinedly speaking, her fingers clenching her wooly shoulder-cloak that layered over her druid cloak, “I will end the war with the dark with my work. I’ve seen evil, and I can only imagine what Master Flynn has seen with the ten years he has on me.”
For some reason, she couldn’t feel but self-conscious of how red her face was getting. It was so bold and cool to say it in the heat of the moment, but not quite so much around your peers who were very much your age. Drysi's eyes were deadly serious, despite the embarrassment, but she had to look at someone, so she chose to look at Brooke.
“Master Flynn will slay the dark, and he will do it with my spell.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“It’s easy to forget he’s not even thirty yet,” Satya remarked, her tone sounding a bit more melancholic about the fact than reverent. It didn’t last long though as the girl donned a cheeky smile. “And that’s good news for you Brooke. Only eight years apart.”
“W’d y’lot cannit?! I ain’t like Master Flynn that way! Just got allota respect f’r’m’s all. ‘Sides, its nine years, not eight,” Brooke bit back indignantly. The oldest girl crossed her arms and huffed a bit, flicking her hair back with a quick shake of her head. By the looks of things she was used to this kind of jabbing as she appeared to bounce back quickly. “Seriously tho, I don’t. Please don’t say anything to Master Flynn. I would die.”
Shifting her drink, Brooke leaned forward on the table and crossed her arms so she could rest her chin on them. With subsiding jokes, the American looked like she was contemplating what Drysi had said. In fact, the table as a whole seemed a little somber.
“It’s easy to not pay attention to. Dark things; that is,” Brooke spoke again. “Had no clue magic was ever a thing outsida stories. Then bam! One day when I was thirteen, I was out later than I shoulda been when I get attacked.”
Brooke shifted a hand to raise her curtain of hair to reveal the undercut, and a long scar that was contrasted by the buzzed black hair around it.
“My master saved me. Said the thing was a type of fey known as a red cap. Creepy li’l goblin thing, this one was. Was responsible for a few murders in the area, and would use the blood to dye it’s hat red. After Master Cas took me on as an apprentice, I learned just how prevalent that kind of darkness was; even in big cities like New York.”
“Probably part of why she’s obsessed… fond of… Master Flynn and the Menagerie. Going out, fighting, and winning through grit and gumption.” Satya entered, but her eyes looked distant again; and on her other side Lucia sniffled quietly as Satya put a comforting arm on her shoulder. “There is a lot of dark out there for Master Flynn to slay.”
In the Stables
“There is one theory that a familiar’s voice is based on a voice the druid has heard in their past, and possibly also the voice of one of the druid’s ancestors,” Dez offered up some of the information she had on hand. “Some consider this as why we are called familiars. We are of a spirit familiar to our druids. Perhaps to better guide them like ancestral spirits of Chinese folklore, or simply because we are expedient and familial blood bonds are easily tapped during magical ceremonies.”
“W’d y’lot cannit?! I ain’t like Master Flynn that way! Just got allota respect f’r’m’s all. ‘Sides, its nine years, not eight,” Brooke bit back indignantly. The oldest girl crossed her arms and huffed a bit, flicking her hair back with a quick shake of her head. By the looks of things she was used to this kind of jabbing as she appeared to bounce back quickly. “Seriously tho, I don’t. Please don’t say anything to Master Flynn. I would die.”
Shifting her drink, Brooke leaned forward on the table and crossed her arms so she could rest her chin on them. With subsiding jokes, the American looked like she was contemplating what Drysi had said. In fact, the table as a whole seemed a little somber.
“It’s easy to not pay attention to. Dark things; that is,” Brooke spoke again. “Had no clue magic was ever a thing outsida stories. Then bam! One day when I was thirteen, I was out later than I shoulda been when I get attacked.”
Brooke shifted a hand to raise her curtain of hair to reveal the undercut, and a long scar that was contrasted by the buzzed black hair around it.
“My master saved me. Said the thing was a type of fey known as a red cap. Creepy li’l goblin thing, this one was. Was responsible for a few murders in the area, and would use the blood to dye it’s hat red. After Master Cas took me on as an apprentice, I learned just how prevalent that kind of darkness was; even in big cities like New York.”
“Probably part of why she’s obsessed… fond of… Master Flynn and the Menagerie. Going out, fighting, and winning through grit and gumption.” Satya entered, but her eyes looked distant again; and on her other side Lucia sniffled quietly as Satya put a comforting arm on her shoulder. “There is a lot of dark out there for Master Flynn to slay.”
In the Stables
“There is one theory that a familiar’s voice is based on a voice the druid has heard in their past, and possibly also the voice of one of the druid’s ancestors,” Dez offered up some of the information she had on hand. “Some consider this as why we are called familiars. We are of a spirit familiar to our druids. Perhaps to better guide them like ancestral spirits of Chinese folklore, or simply because we are expedient and familial blood bonds are easily tapped during magical ceremonies.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
Stiff as a board, Drysi was kicking herself at thickening the atmosphere. She had drummed up bad memories in a few of the others, and now she wasn't sure how to keep going. This wasn't like a DM conversation where you could put your phone down and process. These were human interactions, she had to do something.
Laugh? Oh man, no. She felt like laughing, though, those were her nerves talking.
Perhaps, she thought, she should just talk about how bad she had it. Then they'd know how bad it could be were they in her shoes.
No! It's not a competition, Drysi.
Where was Willow? She always seemed to know what to do with people. The triclops resisted the urge to look around for her. Willow was back in Japan.
She needed an answer, her anxiety was hiking.
Run? Get up and go? Oh fohk, that'll never do. Get weepy? Scream? That's it. That's it. I'm gunna scream. It's fohkin' scream time. Three. Two. One.
"Breathe."
"G-Gide- Gideon…?"
"I'm still in the stables, but I never left you. I'm always right here. Breathe."
Drysi tugged her glasses off, and wiped her eyes of fresh tears. She huffed, trying to follow her familiar's advice. Gideon's voice chimed one more time, "You're not alone."
"It's refreshing," the words came after Drysi wiped her face with her sleeve, "to know that I'm not alone. My Master wasn't there to save me, but the dark got me too. P-... Possession, blood ritual, betrayal, a bad night all around. I wasn't good after it all happened, the dark stayed with me afterwards. I couldn't focus, or study. My grades dipped. I took up druidism to… for a variety of reasons, but I couldn't make sense of it. At first."
The triclops smiled, "Master Flynn, his specialty isn't slaying the dark, that's merely what he does to keep the lights on. He's a Sage at heart, and I remember, distinctly, I threw a fit because I couldn't tie the connection between runes and spells. Then, he gave me a look, and in seven words helped me draw the connection. From there it fell into place, I got my focus back and, eventually, my confidence. And, now… well… I'm a 3rd Circle Druid."
Shaken by an unfamiliar, welcome sense of relief, she began to laugh.
"I used to hate druids, and now here I am. All thanks to Master Flynn. He can banish the dark by killing or breaking it in one hand, but, truly, how many people do y'know that can do just as much, if not more, with patience and forgiveness in the other? If anyone is going to change this world for the better it's him. With my help, of course."
In the stables, Gideon appeared distracted, his head hanging in the air. His stiffness projected a sense of concern that eventually melted away.
"I'm sorry, I got called away for a moment," the snake turned back to the other familiars, able to get back into the conversation, "Yes. Yes, ancestral spirits? I'm not sure. I don't know how I would even confirm such a thing, but strangely, it makes the most sense."
With a careful, serpentine grace he alternated to the other shoulder. "It would explain the natural born intelligence, the voice, the sense of intimate connection. When I met Drysi, my druid, I felt like I wasn't meeting her for the first time. She was a stranger, but I spoke to her like an older brother."
Gideon lowered himself as he considered the tangent he was on.
"I apologize. I might have lost the thread. My druid seemed to be panicking, and it was hard to focus."
Laugh? Oh man, no. She felt like laughing, though, those were her nerves talking.
Perhaps, she thought, she should just talk about how bad she had it. Then they'd know how bad it could be were they in her shoes.
No! It's not a competition, Drysi.
Where was Willow? She always seemed to know what to do with people. The triclops resisted the urge to look around for her. Willow was back in Japan.
She needed an answer, her anxiety was hiking.
Run? Get up and go? Oh fohk, that'll never do. Get weepy? Scream? That's it. That's it. I'm gunna scream. It's fohkin' scream time. Three. Two. One.
"Breathe."
"G-Gide- Gideon…?"
"I'm still in the stables, but I never left you. I'm always right here. Breathe."
Drysi tugged her glasses off, and wiped her eyes of fresh tears. She huffed, trying to follow her familiar's advice. Gideon's voice chimed one more time, "You're not alone."
"It's refreshing," the words came after Drysi wiped her face with her sleeve, "to know that I'm not alone. My Master wasn't there to save me, but the dark got me too. P-... Possession, blood ritual, betrayal, a bad night all around. I wasn't good after it all happened, the dark stayed with me afterwards. I couldn't focus, or study. My grades dipped. I took up druidism to… for a variety of reasons, but I couldn't make sense of it. At first."
The triclops smiled, "Master Flynn, his specialty isn't slaying the dark, that's merely what he does to keep the lights on. He's a Sage at heart, and I remember, distinctly, I threw a fit because I couldn't tie the connection between runes and spells. Then, he gave me a look, and in seven words helped me draw the connection. From there it fell into place, I got my focus back and, eventually, my confidence. And, now… well… I'm a 3rd Circle Druid."
Shaken by an unfamiliar, welcome sense of relief, she began to laugh.
"I used to hate druids, and now here I am. All thanks to Master Flynn. He can banish the dark by killing or breaking it in one hand, but, truly, how many people do y'know that can do just as much, if not more, with patience and forgiveness in the other? If anyone is going to change this world for the better it's him. With my help, of course."
In the stables, Gideon appeared distracted, his head hanging in the air. His stiffness projected a sense of concern that eventually melted away.
"I'm sorry, I got called away for a moment," the snake turned back to the other familiars, able to get back into the conversation, "Yes. Yes, ancestral spirits? I'm not sure. I don't know how I would even confirm such a thing, but strangely, it makes the most sense."
With a careful, serpentine grace he alternated to the other shoulder. "It would explain the natural born intelligence, the voice, the sense of intimate connection. When I met Drysi, my druid, I felt like I wasn't meeting her for the first time. She was a stranger, but I spoke to her like an older brother."
Gideon lowered himself as he considered the tangent he was on.
"I apologize. I might have lost the thread. My druid seemed to be panicking, and it was hard to focus."
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“You apologize too much,” Bowie chided in a way that still felt mostly well-meaning. “You’ll fit in well. These lot have a fondness for philosophy.”
“And you try too hard to sound disinterested,” Aashvi’s warm voice filled the sense of space as she rolled her shoulders, causing Bowie to roll off of her back. The tomcat reappeared before long, hopping deftly onto the wooden half-wall that separated the stalls.
“He likes to hang around and act cool,” Dez added with a smile. Bowie looked down at the group from his perch with a squint.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Bowie said.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Aashvi copied simultaneously.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Dez mimicked.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Tucker recited.
The three younger familiars laughed in their own unique ways; Aashvi huffed, Dez gave a wide cheeked inhaling laugh, and Tucker pointed his head towards the ceiling and grinned. Bowie rolled his eyes, but didn’t rebuff the group.
In the cafeteria
“Hey Lucia, we should head back to the dorms. Let’s grab some cookies and I’ll help you with some of your schoolwork,” Goose cut in, his tone upbeat and distracting. Off to Satya’s side, Lucia continued to sniffle, but she nodded and gave an affirmative mhmm. Goose stood up and rounded the table, then took Lucia by the hand and led her over to a cart by the drinks that carried a number of quick-grab treats. The older druids watched them go, and once they were out of earshot Satya leaned forward and flicked Brooke on the nose. Yelping slightly, Brooke drew back.
“Sorry, sorry,” Brooke placated.
“Sorry about that, Drysi,” Satya turned to apologize. “Lucia’s a little… sensitive. Before you apologize too, don’t worry. You had no way of knowing. Brooke on the other hand…”
“Said sorry! Jus’ got carried away talkin’bou’ Master Flynn, ‘s’all.”
After giving Brooke one last look of reproach, she turned back to Drysi and visibly lightened up.
“Regardless, I’m happy you made it through those ordeals and found your way to the Order,” the Indian teen offered with a solemn bow of her head. “That said, not as many stories find their way through the grapevines about Master Flynn’s patience. The Keepers mostly gossip about the battles that their members take part in.”
“As if the Eights are any different,” Vincent had closed his book and now leaned on the table beside Brooke. “You and the Keepers are cut from the same cloth.”
“I’d rather gossip about magic than math, Vinny,” Brooke jabbed back with a chuckle as she took a drink of ale. Setting the mug down again, she shifted her gaze back to Drysi. “Also, let us know if there is anything we can help with. Mad respect for the bond between you and your Master, but never forget that we’re all in this together. Every one of us is an ally, even Vin here.”
“And you try too hard to sound disinterested,” Aashvi’s warm voice filled the sense of space as she rolled her shoulders, causing Bowie to roll off of her back. The tomcat reappeared before long, hopping deftly onto the wooden half-wall that separated the stalls.
“He likes to hang around and act cool,” Dez added with a smile. Bowie looked down at the group from his perch with a squint.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Bowie said.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Aashvi copied simultaneously.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Dez mimicked.
“I’m the oldest, I need to keep an eye on you all,” Tucker recited.
The three younger familiars laughed in their own unique ways; Aashvi huffed, Dez gave a wide cheeked inhaling laugh, and Tucker pointed his head towards the ceiling and grinned. Bowie rolled his eyes, but didn’t rebuff the group.
In the cafeteria
“Hey Lucia, we should head back to the dorms. Let’s grab some cookies and I’ll help you with some of your schoolwork,” Goose cut in, his tone upbeat and distracting. Off to Satya’s side, Lucia continued to sniffle, but she nodded and gave an affirmative mhmm. Goose stood up and rounded the table, then took Lucia by the hand and led her over to a cart by the drinks that carried a number of quick-grab treats. The older druids watched them go, and once they were out of earshot Satya leaned forward and flicked Brooke on the nose. Yelping slightly, Brooke drew back.
“Sorry, sorry,” Brooke placated.
“Sorry about that, Drysi,” Satya turned to apologize. “Lucia’s a little… sensitive. Before you apologize too, don’t worry. You had no way of knowing. Brooke on the other hand…”
“Said sorry! Jus’ got carried away talkin’bou’ Master Flynn, ‘s’all.”
After giving Brooke one last look of reproach, she turned back to Drysi and visibly lightened up.
“Regardless, I’m happy you made it through those ordeals and found your way to the Order,” the Indian teen offered with a solemn bow of her head. “That said, not as many stories find their way through the grapevines about Master Flynn’s patience. The Keepers mostly gossip about the battles that their members take part in.”
“As if the Eights are any different,” Vincent had closed his book and now leaned on the table beside Brooke. “You and the Keepers are cut from the same cloth.”
“I’d rather gossip about magic than math, Vinny,” Brooke jabbed back with a chuckle as she took a drink of ale. Setting the mug down again, she shifted her gaze back to Drysi. “Also, let us know if there is anything we can help with. Mad respect for the bond between you and your Master, but never forget that we’re all in this together. Every one of us is an ally, even Vin here.”
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
Gideon wobbled from one side to the other as everyone began to laugh. There was a hefty sense of being out of the loop, which was something new for him. For the last couple weeks, his whole world had been Drysi and he had a direct line to her. Bowie, Aashvii, Desdemona, and Tucker were all their own people in a world only he knew.
"You're right. I've been telling Drysi the same thing," softly answered Gideon, "thank you for being so welcoming. I'm often hiding under my druid's hair, because only a select few where I'm from are comfortable with the presence of snakes."
His flat eyes considered each of them curiously, "do your instincts not kick in at the sight of certain familiars… like me?"
Drysi could sense a small portion of Gideon's unease at the edge of her mind. Chances were he could feel the candied cringe caramelizing over every fiery neuron in her mind. Outwardly, Drysi was poise, and thoughtfully nodded her empathy. Inwardly, she was screaming at the idea of having caused someone as sweet as Lucia discomfort. It was the same kind heat that overtook her whenever anyone jabbed at Johann.
Despite the amnesty, she repeatedly looked back at Lucia as she walked away, feeling guilty all the same.
"Believe me," the triclops turned back around, "y've'all made me feel at home. Sorry, about gettin' heavy there— I mean— ugh. I mean, thanks for listenin' and not givin' me any weird looks. Ms. Alstad says I never need to approach something until I'm ready, but I should plan to address it."
That said, there was definitely something else nibbling at her mind. She wouldn't have easy access to Carneath from here on, but these were friends now. Her little triclops mind was already preparing for goodbye, and goodbye for a long time.
"Um… I don't really… What I'm probably going to do… is ah," Drysi's thin fingers plucked her phone from her pocket. "I'm not good at this. So you've heard, I've near died a couple of times, and I'm… Um, I tend to jump the gun on these things. 'Cause, y'know, we may not meet again. On account a distance and… er… danger."
She propped up her phone, "Could we… exchange numbers?"
"You're right. I've been telling Drysi the same thing," softly answered Gideon, "thank you for being so welcoming. I'm often hiding under my druid's hair, because only a select few where I'm from are comfortable with the presence of snakes."
His flat eyes considered each of them curiously, "do your instincts not kick in at the sight of certain familiars… like me?"
Drysi could sense a small portion of Gideon's unease at the edge of her mind. Chances were he could feel the candied cringe caramelizing over every fiery neuron in her mind. Outwardly, Drysi was poise, and thoughtfully nodded her empathy. Inwardly, she was screaming at the idea of having caused someone as sweet as Lucia discomfort. It was the same kind heat that overtook her whenever anyone jabbed at Johann.
Despite the amnesty, she repeatedly looked back at Lucia as she walked away, feeling guilty all the same.
"Believe me," the triclops turned back around, "y've'all made me feel at home. Sorry, about gettin' heavy there— I mean— ugh. I mean, thanks for listenin' and not givin' me any weird looks. Ms. Alstad says I never need to approach something until I'm ready, but I should plan to address it."
That said, there was definitely something else nibbling at her mind. She wouldn't have easy access to Carneath from here on, but these were friends now. Her little triclops mind was already preparing for goodbye, and goodbye for a long time.
"Um… I don't really… What I'm probably going to do… is ah," Drysi's thin fingers plucked her phone from her pocket. "I'm not good at this. So you've heard, I've near died a couple of times, and I'm… Um, I tend to jump the gun on these things. 'Cause, y'know, we may not meet again. On account a distance and… er… danger."
She propped up her phone, "Could we… exchange numbers?"
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
“Did your instincts kick in when you saw me?” Aashvi reversed Gideon’s question. “We are beasts elevated above being driven by instinct. If fight or flight kicked in every time we saw an animal that was dangerous out in the wild, then we would miss out on making so many new friends.”
To accentuate her point, Aashvi lifted her dinner plate sized paw that had Tucker lounging on it.
“It’s just like New York City,” Bowie re-entered the conversation. “Walking down the street you can pass people from a hundred different countries, and while they may each have their own unique looks, some even looking quite intimidating, deep down we are all the same.”
“It’s still not a bad idea to be cautious outside of the Keep,” Dez chimed in, the monkey still sitting quite content even with a venomous snake around her neck. “Here, we know we are all colleagues and allies, but outside… A wild tiger could still try to challenge Aashvi, a troop of wild monkeys could throw stones at me, or a hawk could try to pick you up for lunch.”
“Not to mention not all familiars are on our side,” Bowie cautioned.
“Of course!” Brooke said with a wide grin. “No need’t be bashful ‘bout’t. Hey Vinny, do the trick.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, but pulled out a piece of paper and a fountain pen. With no visible hesitation he began to write out a series of numbers followed by labels. The whole process took less than thirty seconds including the time he gave the ink to dry. Capping the pen, Vincent slid the paper over to Drysi. On the paper were five different international phone numbers along with the names of who they belong to, all written in a deft calligraphy and pulled entirely from memory.
“It’s his best skill,” Satya said. Vincent didn’t react, but his cheeks seemed to redden ever so slightly.
To accentuate her point, Aashvi lifted her dinner plate sized paw that had Tucker lounging on it.
“It’s just like New York City,” Bowie re-entered the conversation. “Walking down the street you can pass people from a hundred different countries, and while they may each have their own unique looks, some even looking quite intimidating, deep down we are all the same.”
“It’s still not a bad idea to be cautious outside of the Keep,” Dez chimed in, the monkey still sitting quite content even with a venomous snake around her neck. “Here, we know we are all colleagues and allies, but outside… A wild tiger could still try to challenge Aashvi, a troop of wild monkeys could throw stones at me, or a hawk could try to pick you up for lunch.”
“Not to mention not all familiars are on our side,” Bowie cautioned.
“Of course!” Brooke said with a wide grin. “No need’t be bashful ‘bout’t. Hey Vinny, do the trick.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, but pulled out a piece of paper and a fountain pen. With no visible hesitation he began to write out a series of numbers followed by labels. The whole process took less than thirty seconds including the time he gave the ink to dry. Capping the pen, Vincent slid the paper over to Drysi. On the paper were five different international phone numbers along with the names of who they belong to, all written in a deft calligraphy and pulled entirely from memory.
“It’s his best skill,” Satya said. Vincent didn’t react, but his cheeks seemed to redden ever so slightly.
Re: [The Keep] Walking to Skye
"And your handwritin' is gorgeous,'' admired Drysi, still carrying a deep respect for the careful hand it took to produce calligraphy. Even though she had left inscription magic behind, it had still been a foundation in her growth. She flowed her hand over the paper and, through her paper magic, it followed her fingers to float in front of her. "Even got the country codes put down, what a lad. I wish I had my bag, I'd show you my own writin' set."
The triclops opened her hand and folded it closed, and the paper, still floating, creased a neat line down the middle and folded in turn. Then, with a whipping finger, she willed the paper up into the air and under the neckline of her blouse. "When I get back up to my room, I'll put all of ya in my phone. Hell, of all the times to leave my satchel behind… Wait, what time is it?"
Shuffling in her layers, Drysi went palming for her phone to check the time.
Gideon, only momentarily comforted, arched back to look up at Bowie.
"What do you mean?"
The triclops opened her hand and folded it closed, and the paper, still floating, creased a neat line down the middle and folded in turn. Then, with a whipping finger, she willed the paper up into the air and under the neckline of her blouse. "When I get back up to my room, I'll put all of ya in my phone. Hell, of all the times to leave my satchel behind… Wait, what time is it?"
Shuffling in her layers, Drysi went palming for her phone to check the time.
Gideon, only momentarily comforted, arched back to look up at Bowie.
"What do you mean?"