#i got a LOT done via nano even tho my life fell apart toward the end LOL

[allaganexarch]

wip whenever ♥

Thank you so much to @myreia for the tag!

It is once again time to bother you with original thing! Up til now I've been posting pretty much sequential pieces but I'm skipping ahead a lil bit this time bc I'm way too excited about the Lore TM.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

It's been awhile since I bothered ppl so let's see I shall tag @eemamminy-art @delirious-comfort @quinnthebard @thepapernautilus @yourlocaldisneyvillain and anyone else who feels like sharing a wip!

===

At first glance, the town of Nodig does not appear so very different from Godsplace.  It has the same small, crowded feeling and a similar sort of age-old architecture.  But as they make their way into the little town, Tamsin quickly decides that two places could not be more different.  There are streetlamps and shops, all of them well-lit and welcoming, and the streets are bustling with people even at this late hour.  The people are happy, smiling and laughing and greeting one another as they pass, not huddled together with eyes downcast, afraid to be seen or heard.

The tavern, too, bears almost no resemblance to the one Tamsin knows.  That place is well-known as the dominion of lechers and drunkards, not a place anyone who cares a whit for his reputation would like to be seen.  This tavern is clean and well-tended, and there are a mix of men and women, most sat at tables and ensconced in their own private conversations.  They barely take any notice when Althea and Tamsin enter.  Nodig is used to travelers from all over the world.

The only person who takes any note of their arrival is the man standing behind the bar.  He is grey-haired and nondescript, and he greets Althea with a curt nod of his head.

“I’ve brought an unexpected guest,” says Althea.  “I hope it won’t be any trouble.”

“Of course not, Miss,” says the man with another nod.  Then he disappears into the back room.

As the bartender leaves, a man sat at the far end of the bar turns on his stool to take a look at them.  He speaks up in a clear, piercing voice.

“Unexpected guest?” he wonders.  “Not a soon-to-be initiate?”

Although he is sitting down, he appears to be a slight man, and his sweater hangs loosely upon his shoulders.  He has dark hair cut in a simple, clean style and wears thick, dark-rimmed glasses.  He doesn’t look particularly young or old, but he lacks Althea’s gravitas.

Althea, for her part, seems markedly unimpressed.  “Tamsin,” she says, her gaze fixed upon the wall somewhere behind the bar, “this is Vivius Moonbright.”

Tamsin looks from Althea back to the man, matching the name to the face.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” says Vivius, extending his hand in greeting.

Tamsin takes his hand.  “Moonbright?” she repeats curiously.  “Forgive me, but I’ve never heard a name like that.”

Vivius laughs good-naturedly.  “Yes, it does sound rather frivolous around these parts,” he says.  “And in most parts of the world, if I’m being honest.  But in my homeland of Almyst such names are quite common, I assure you.  Moonbright, Silvermist, Windsong, and so forth.”

Tamsin smiles.  “They sound like names out of a heroic tale.  What is it like there, in Almyst?  Do you miss it?”

Vivius hums.  His thoughtfulness strikes Tamsin as markedly different from Althea’s.  It is bright and animated, like the overture to an old, favorite song.  “It is beautiful there,” he begins.  He gestures that Tamsin should sit, and retakes his own barstool next to her.  “And the people are largely…how shall I say this?  Good-hearted, to be certain, but decidedly serious.  The nation has a difficult past, and its people reflect that, in some ways.”  With a wink, he adds, “And let me tell you, they would not take kindly to any comments on their peculiar naming conventions.”

“Oh,” Tamsin flusters.  “Forgive me, I meant no offense.”

“None taken, I assure you,” says Vivius, waving a hand dismissively.  “And you, Tamsin?  Where did our Keeper Althea find you?”

Tamsin glances nervously over her shoulder toward Althea, hoping for some guidance, but Althea is still pointedly ignoring them both.  After all she has been through in recent memory, Tamsin is not inclined to trust in someone Althea doesn’t seem to like very much, even if he seems perfectly friendly.  But Althea does not acknowledge her, and so Tamsin is forced to make up her own mind.  She reasons that whence she hails is no great secret.

“Godsplace,” says Tamsin at last.  “Have you heard of it?”

“Heard of it, yes,” says Vivius.  Even when he speaks severely, there is a certain lightness to his voice.  “Not for the best reasons, though.  I’m sure it possesses many charms that go unreported.”

“Maybe,” says Tamsin charitably, but she labors to think of any at the moment.

“Not too sad to be taking your leave, I see?” Vivius observes.

“No,” Tamsin agrees with a self-effacing smile.  But it feels wrong to speak ill of her homeland without some further explanation, and so she amends, “There’s…not really much left for me in Godsplace.”

“Ah,” says Vivius knowingly.  “And so very much to be found for you at the Academy.”

Again Tamsin glances uncomfortably in Althea’s direction.  “You know much about it?” she presses hesitantly.  “The Academy?”

Perhaps it is her imagination, but Tamsin is sure she hears Althea let out a quiet, derisive scoff.

“Actually,” says Vivius, with the air of barely-contained excitement, “I am nearly as new to the Academy as you.”

Tamsin whirls around to face him fully.  “I beg your pardon?”

Vivius ducks his head and shrugs sheepishly, the kind of affected modesty borne of one who is in truth quite proud of his achievements.  But before he can say anything else, Althea cuts in coldly.  “Don’t bother demonstrating.  She can’t see.”

Both Vivius and Tamsin look up, surprised by her sudden interjection.  Althea is still looking away from them.

Tamsin’s mind is slow to catch up.  New to the Academy, demonstrating, can’t see—  “You have the Gift?” she turns back to Vivius.

Her tone is perhaps more openly incredulous than she had intended, but the idea is something of an absurdity.  She’s never heard of a man with magic.  Why, the people of Godsplace would be in an uproar.  She tries to imagine one of those gruesome scenes in the Town Square with the roles reversed, nonmagical women in official uniform dragging unwitting young men up onto the stage to put them to the flame.  It would never happen.

Again Vivius shrugs good-naturedly.  Tamsin begins to feel acutely embarrassed by her inexperience.  “I’m sorry,” she says quickly.  “I don’t mean to be rude, really, it’s just that…”  It’s just that where Tamsin comes from, women are put to the flame for witchcraft, a fate even the most dreadful man, someone a thousand times worse than Teddy Page, need never fear.

“It’s all right, Tamsin, I’m quite accustomed to the shock,” says Vivius, holding up his hands in a show of surrender.  “Men who possess the Gift are exceedingly rare, but we do exist.  As I would gladly demonstrate, but the Keeper informs me such a show would be lost on you for the moment.”

“Yes, what a shame,” says Althea icily.  “One wonders why you ever left the Academy at all, Vivius, if you’re so fond of impressing wide-eyed idiots with parlor tricks.”

Tamsin winces at Althea’s cruelty, but Vivius seems remarkably unfazed.  “Don’t mind the Keeper,” he says to Tamsin.  “She’ll be a different person once she gets her meal.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” says Althea.

As if on cue, the bartender emerges from the back room balancing three large plates on his arm, all filled to overflowing with foods that are unrecognizable to Tamsin.  She’s been so preoccupied, she barely even noticed her own hunger, but now her mouth waters, and her stomach aches.

The food is rich and heavy, not at all what Tamsin is used to.  She cannot identify a single thing on her plate—even the type of grain is unknown to her.  The meat is cooked in a way Tamsin could never have imagined—it seems to her to be covered in some sort of bread crumbs and cooked in a heavy oil.  When she wonders aloud at this ingenuity, she draws both Vivius and the bartender into conversation with her, and they happily explain the origin and preparation of each of the unfamiliar foods, and many others besides.

Althea continues to ignore them.  She eats her food at the other end of the bar in self-contained silence.

In spite of Althea’s coldness, Tamsin finds herself warming to Vivius.  He is friendly and forthcoming, and he doesn’t answer her questions with long, weighty pauses or meandering riddles that aren’t really answers at all.

“Keeper Althea mentioned that there aren’t very many new students at the moment,” Tamsin prompts him, attempting to sound casual.  To her left, she would swear she can almost feel Althea bristling, but Althea doesn’t say anything.

“Yes, well, it’s to be expected,” says Vivius.

“Why is that?”

“Well, because of the prophecy,” says Vivius, as though this should be obvious.  He takes a bite, evidently unaware that this warrants any further explanation.

“Prophecy?” Tamsin echoes.

Vivius looks up mid-bite, his eyes rendered somewhat comically wide by the thick lenses of his glasses.  He finishes his food and sputters, “Oh, goodness, forgive me, I really thought even the nonmagical knew about that.”

“Not me,” says Tamsin simply.

“Oh, well, uh—“ Vivius glances somewhat nervously toward Althea.  “I don’t know if I’m the best person to explain it.”

When Althea remains steadfastly silent, Vivius amends, “But I’ll do my best.”

He puts down his fork and steeples his fingers while he thinks.  “So, how to put this?  I think I ought to start by saying that the average person cannot actually confirm whether the prophecy really exists.”

“It does,” says Althea quietly.

“Right,” Vivius falters, “as I’ve said, the average person.  It’s important because interpretations vary widely the world over.  And of course, like all prophecies, the actual contents are extremely vague and open to interpretation.”

“What are the actual contents?” Tamsin asks.

Again Vivius glances hopefully toward Althea, but she keeps her counsel.

“The story goes,” Vivius continues cautiously, “that a child born at the crossroads of time will set the darkness free of its shackles.”

A moment’s silence follows.  “That’s it?” asks Tamsin.

Vivius nods.  “That’s it.”

In spite of her stony silence, Tamsin glances back toward Althea.  “But that’s hardly anything!  That doesn’t answer my question at all!”

Vivius chuckles.  “Yes, it is infuriating, isn’t it?”

“Why does that amount to no new students at the Academy?” Tamsin presses, not a little exasperated.

“Well, let’s break it down, shall we?” says Vivius, in the manner of a kindly schoolteacher.  “What do you suppose qualifies as a ‘crossroads of time?’”

Tamsin balks at him for a long moment before she even deigns to consider what he has said.  Nameless nobodies do not get much education in Godsplace, and it has been a long while since she was a student of anything.

“All right,” she sighs at last.  “I don’t know.  The start of a new year?  The changing of an Era?”

Vivius nods.  “Excellent guesses.  Also the most common interpretation.  Most people believe that this fabled child was born at the changing of the Era, perhaps even at the very turning of the year, right as the clock struck midnight.  If so, how old would that child be now?”

“Sixteen,” Tamsin answers easily.  The child would have been born in the same year as she.  “But then how—“

“And what sort of person do you imagine could manage a feat like breaking the darkness free from its shackles?  Someone ordinary?”

Tamsin falters.  “Well, no, I suppose not.”

“Almost certainly one of the Gifted, yes?” Vivius nods.

“Sure,” says Tamsin.  “But what does that even mean?  Setting the darkness free and all that?”

“Now that explanation I shall leave to your teachers at the Academy,” Vivius laughs.  “Suffice to say, there is darkness in this world, in a very literal sense.  It is a kind of magic not so very different from your own Gift.  Very powerful.  But dangerous.  Unpredictable.  It is said that once the darkness finds you, you can never truly be free of it, even if you manage to resist its whispers all the days of your life.”

Tamsin shivers involuntarily.

“No one knows exactly what it means, setting the darkness free of its shackles.  How could we?  Scholars may theorize, but they are going off of next to nothing, little more than stories almost as old as time itself.  But a world plunged into darkness does not sound very appealing on its face, now, does it?”

“Well, no,” says Tamsin uncertainly.

“As I’ve said, interpretations abound the world over, most of them probably wildly inaccurate.  But nearly everyone agrees on one thing: the prophecy cannot come to pass.  It would destroy the world as we know it.”

Such heady concepts are, for the moment, wholly beyond Tamsin’s comprehension.  She is more focused on one simple matter.  “You still haven’t answered my question,” she points out.

Vivius laughs, abashed.  “No, I suppose I haven’t.  There may be many reasons that so few young ladies of your age have made their way to the Academy.  Many have likely been hunted down and killed, as, I’m given to understand, is the practice in Godsplace.  Many, I expect, are in hiding, hesitant to submit themselves to the Academy’s scrutiny.”

Tamsin considers this, her mind reeling.  “Because, what?  What would happen?  To this…person the prophecy speaks of?”

“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” says Vivius with a shrug.  “How can they know?  Public opinion on the matter is not generous, to say the least.”

“Should I be worried, then?” Tamsin wonders.  The idea had not occurred to her.

“Well, I don’t know,” says Vivius.  “You were born at the changing of the Era, but when?”

Tamsin shrugs.  “Sometime in the summer.  I’m not sure exactly.”

Vivius nods, as if that is the end of it.  “Well, then, it’s unlikely you’ll run into any problems at all.  The prophecy is open to interpretation, of course, but these things tend toward the dramatic.  To that end, perhaps we’ll start seeing more new students sooner than later, now that the timing is off.”

They fall into silence after that, Tamsin consumed by her thoughts, and the others concerned with their food.  When they have all cleaned their plates, the bartender comes to collect them, and he tells Althea that he has prepared another room for Tamsin.

‘Wonderful,” says Althea, offering the bartender a smile and a nod as she accepts her keys.  “Thank you.”  For the first time since they arrived, she looks at Tamsin.  “I’ll be turning in now.  Shall I show you to your room?”

“All right,” says Tamsin, trying very hard not to scramble to her feet.  “Good night, Vivius,” she says.  “Will I see you again soon?”

“It’s been a pleasure, Tamsin,” says Vivius with a wave.  “I’ll be heading out before dawn, but come and find me when you make your way to the Academy, won’t you?”

Tamsin nods, and she feels distinctly relieved to have at least one friend to look forward to at the mysterious Academy.  She turns around to find that Althea has just barely waited for her, and quickly scrambles to follow Althea through a small doorway and up a narrow staircase.  Outside, the moon is uncommonly bright, and it casts strange shadows through the open window.  The stairs shift and creak ominously beneath her feet, and the banister feels ready to work itself loose.

When they reach the second floor, Tamsin dares to speak up.  “May I ask you something?”

“You may,” says Althea.

“You don’t seem to like Vivius much,” says Tamsin.

Althea glances over her shoulder.  “Is that a question?”

Tamsin averts her gaze, embarrassed.  “Well, am I wrong?” she wonders self-consciously.  “Why don’t you like him?”

Perhaps Tamsin could have anticipated the way Althea weighs her question with a heavy sigh.  She stops in front of a door in the middle of the hallway and produces a key.  She ushers Tamsin inside and closes the door behind them before she even begins to answer.

“It’s not exactly that I don’t like Vivius,” says Althea at last.  “But have you ever in your life heard of a man with the Gift?  Even in stories?”

“Well, no,” Tamsin admits.  “It is strange to think of, but…”

“Strange, yes.  Almost unheard of,” says Althea.  “The thing that troubles me is that no one seems to know how it happens.  I mentioned to you earlier that the Gift is hereditary?  Not so with men, at least as far as anyone can tell.  Which is not very far at all, since there are maybe a handful total, in all of history.”

“Even still,” says Tamsin hesitantly, “you make it sound like it’s his fault.”

“As I’ve said, I’ve nothing against Vivius specifically,” says Althea curtly.  “But I do not trust his magic, nor do I support allowing a man into the Academy, no matter his talents.  He could just as easily go across the water, where he would be welcomed.”

Tamsin considers this.  “Do…others feel as you do?” she wonders.  “Other Keepers, I mean?”

To her surprise, Althea chuckles.  “You think my views are unusual?”

Tamsin averts her gaze.  “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“But you disagree.”

“Well.”  Tamsin doesn’t know enough to agree or disagree.  She likes Vivius, but she trusts Althea.  She fiddles with the strap of her traveling bag.

“Opinions on the matter are mixed at the Academy,” Althea elaborates at last, with surprising good humor.  “Which, as it happens, is another reason for my objection.  Vivius’s mere presence at the Academy is the subject of endless debate, all of it a colossal waste of time.   There are far more important matters.”

“Like the prophecy?” Tamsin wonders, before she has fully decided to speak.

Althea sighs.  Again, she looks a little amused.  “It’s not as though I’m keeping things from you on purpose, Tamsin,” she says.  “There’s a lot to take in.  And frankly, the prophecy is not the sort of thing a new initiate should be most worried about.”

Still, Tamsin cannot help but ask, “You said earlier that…that you know it’s real.  You know it exists.”

“Yes, well,” Althea averts her gaze.  “I am among the lucky few.”  The light from the full moon catches in her eyes, and Tamsin is reminded of the way they glowed when she used her Gift.

Tamsin considers this.  “Is that why you came to Godsplace?” she wonders.

Althea quirks a brow at her.  “After a fashion,” she says.

“Is that why the burnings happen?” Tamsin presses.  “Because of the prophecy?”

“Not exactly,” says Althea.  “Godsplace has a long history of archaic practices.  But I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the reason you’ve noticed them happening more frequently.”

“Then…”  Again Tamsin fidgets uncomfortably with the strap of her bag.  “Then there are people in Godsplace who know about it?”  Could Bryce have known?  Would he keep something like that from her?

“Perhaps.  But this is all pure speculation, you understand.  I came to Godsplace because I heard about the burnings and I had a feeling I should go and try to intervene.  As it turned out, my feeling was about you.”

“Me?” Tamsin echoes, stunned.

“Well, yes,” says Althea, as though it were obvious.  “Following my intuition led me right to you in your hour of need, after all.  And I’d have allowed you to stay and say a proper farewell if I felt we had the time.”

“But…” Tamsin stammers.  “But I thought you said you came to Godsplace because of the prophecy.”

“I did,” says Althea.  “I’ve been traveling trying to find anyone who fits the description.”

“But I don’t fit the description,” says Tamsin.

Althea hums.  “No, not exactly.  Nevertheless, you are a Gifted who would likely have been put to the flame without my intervention.  An equally worthy cause, I should think.”

Tamsin shivers.  “But then…why are you looking for the prophecy?” she wonders.  “What will you do?”

Althea considers this.  “It’s more about what I will not do, if I’m being honest.  Many would see the prophesied child dead, as if something so banal would put an end to all the world’s problems.  If I can find her, I would spare her from that fate, and see that she is properly trained.”

“Why?” Tamsin asks.  “Would it be better?  Would that avert the prophecy?”

“I cannot know for certain,” says Althea.  “In many ways I am as much in the dark as anyone else.  But is it not better to try to avert such a prophecy with the power of reason?  With information and preparation?  Rather than expecting brute force to unmake the delicate weave of fate?”

Tamsin doesn’t know what to say to that.

“I would not see what is sure to be a talented young lady put to the flame before she can even realize her potential,” says Althea with a small smile.  “And I mean that as much for you as I do for the prophesied child, whoever she may be.  What happens after that is another matter, best left for when the time comes.”

Tamsin nods slowly.  Perhaps Althea is right, after all, and she has asked for more knowledge than she is ready to handle.  It is a lot to take in.

Althea pats her shoulder.  “Get some rest, Tamsin.“

It is perhaps a mercy that Tamsin is so unfathomably tired.  Her head is spinning, and on any other night, the brightness of the moon might have kept her awake thinking until her time for sleep had passed.  But almost as soon as she lays down, she feels herself drifting off.  In her dreams, she is being led into the Town Square all tied up with heavy rope, but she is not afraid.  She knows the flame cannot touch her anymore.

#exciting tag for writing things #personal #now that i've kind of got the school trash fire under control im hoping i can devote some time to this again soon #i got a LOT done via nano even tho my life fell apart toward the end LOL #so school things notwithstanding hoping I can do the mini-nano thing that's soon to move my draft along a lil more #i'd like to be able to share it somewhere in an organized format while im working on it but *waves vaguely at everything* #so we are left with these extremely easy to navigate tumblr dot website posts