Harrowheart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
westfallcorndog) wrote2015-11-22 05:00 pm
westfallcorndog) wrote2015-11-22 05:00 pm
Magic Lessons for Steve and Verity
At the truly, rudely, ridiculously early hour of 3:30 in the morning Harrowheart sent the following texts:
Eleven and a half hours later, Harrowheart is exactly where he said he'd be. The destination is a large area of tall grass surrounded on all sides by woodland that remains leafy despite whatever season it may be on other worlds. The whole area is surrounded by a wooden fence of aged split logs. On one side, nearest the path that leads up to the clearance, is an old picnic bench. Laid out on the table are two thick quilts, two pies under glass covers, a sizable trunk, and one lidded black cauldron sitting above a candle that keeps it warm.
Sitting there at the seat of the bench is Harrowheart. He's dressed much differently today than usual, all done up in a heavy-looking suit of blue armor with a red cape on his back that flows down between his spread legs. His hands are attached to his wrists inside a set of gauntlets. A pair of icy blue axes sit against the bench at awkward angles, their handles attached to the belt of his outfit. He pats his thighs anxiously and often looks to the pathway while he waits for Steve to show up.
To Steve:
"Steve; Borrowed a phone to let you know we will meet in 11 and 1/2 hours for magic lessons. Eat lunch first but there will be food. See you then! – Harrow"
To Verity:
"Verity; Borrowed a phone to let you know we will meet in 12 hours for magic lessons. Eat lunch first but there will be food. See you then! – Harrow"
A quick follow-up text reads: "Do not text this number back. Tell that Steve person the same thing."
The texts each accompany a photo of a hand-drawn map with instructions to a place on the far, far outskirts of the Parklands.
To Verity:
"Verity; Borrowed a phone to let you know we will meet in 12 hours for magic lessons. Eat lunch first but there will be food. See you then! – Harrow"
A quick follow-up text reads: "Do not text this number back. Tell that Steve person the same thing."
The texts each accompany a photo of a hand-drawn map with instructions to a place on the far, far outskirts of the Parklands.
* * *
Eleven and a half hours later, Harrowheart is exactly where he said he'd be. The destination is a large area of tall grass surrounded on all sides by woodland that remains leafy despite whatever season it may be on other worlds. The whole area is surrounded by a wooden fence of aged split logs. On one side, nearest the path that leads up to the clearance, is an old picnic bench. Laid out on the table are two thick quilts, two pies under glass covers, a sizable trunk, and one lidded black cauldron sitting above a candle that keeps it warm.
Sitting there at the seat of the bench is Harrowheart. He's dressed much differently today than usual, all done up in a heavy-looking suit of blue armor with a red cape on his back that flows down between his spread legs. His hands are attached to his wrists inside a set of gauntlets. A pair of icy blue axes sit against the bench at awkward angles, their handles attached to the belt of his outfit. He pats his thighs anxiously and often looks to the pathway while he waits for Steve to show up.
Don't miss WoW until Legion comes out next year. It's gonna be tight as fel B)
He claps a hand to Steve's shoulder and with a shrug says, "But, hey. Maybe she won't. There's stuff we all gotta come to terms with not bein' able to do. Maybe for me that's space, and maybe for you that's magic. Still, what I think both of you would benefit from is readin' some good magic books. Maybe on defensive stuff, maybe on the offensive stuff. Just knowin' what folks out there can do is a defense all its own. What is it they say, knowledge is power?" Unless you're a corn-fed hick who knows nothing and manages to be strong anyway.
"I hate to say this, but... Since Verity's so warm on Viatorus... Maybe you two oughta talk with him about magic? He's from an Earth where it exists, and apparently he's a big nerd scholar. Or... Or!"
Uh oh. His eyes are so on you now, Verity.
"Ixis Naugus! Maybe he could share some knowledge with the both of you! I know you said he's busy, Verity, but... Hell, I'll see if I can't talk him into findin' the time to teach you both some stuff. Steve, maybe he can make you a shield outta his unbreakable crystal! You could train like a pro with somethin' like that."
Evil schemes are coming together here. We're one finger steeple away from disaster.
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Oh, Harrow. Really. Don't talk about V. Just don't. She won't dignify that with a response.
That look she was trying to give him would work better if she weren't distracted into smiling at the idea of Steve with a big green shield. "Thank you, Harrowheart, but I can make my own arrangements with Naugus. It'd seem odd if I didn't since we're roommates."
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Steve is confused.
As for Naugus, well, Steve doesn't really know racist grandpa much at all either. So he shrugs and listens instead.
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Harrow mosies on over to the picnic table and takes a seat on the bench. All this watching other people work has made him sympathetically tired. He searches his satchel for the phone he'd been so generously gifted, but he doesn't turn it on right away. Instead he stares at his reflection in the darkened screen. Whatever he sees, it makes him frown.
"Verity," he says with a heaving sigh. "I'll meet Viatorus again, if it'll make you happy. But you gotta set it up, 'cause I ain't phonin' him. That'd be weird. Maybe he and I can have a chat about your magic lessons. And speakin' of..."
He twists around and removes from the trunk two sheets of paper full of hand-written instructions and schematics, and two small sections of iron chains.
"Homework. Chains of ice. It's kind of a pain in the ass at first. You'll wanna read about the different types of chain links and take a while to look at the iron chains. Conjure up one link at a time, then try to conjure another link so it loops in with the first. Make a chain. Then smash up all the ice and start over. Only way to get good is to practice. It's a good exercise in patience and precision. Steve, you're exempt, unless you really wanna try."
Racist Grandpa hasn't been fulfilling his public ranting quota lately. Tsk.
What she wants to say is that V is wonderful, but his family is made of fail and he needs to be saved from them. But that wouldn't be very diplomatic. (But his family really is made of fail.)
"Chains of ice." She picks up one of the chains, turning it over in her hands before looking to the papers. "Right. I'll see what I can do."
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"I don't know most people well enough to judge, I figure." Viatorus doesn't really stand out to Steve much either way. He's pretty much just on the long mental list of 'Verity's friends' Steve tries to keep track of.
"I'll read about it, at least. If I can manage anything more than a snowflake out of the wand maybe I'll give it a shot." He hasn't taken the shield off yet. It's comforting. He likes it.
Steve's out for the weekend and I'm gonna wrap the thread unless you've got something to say!
God, don't let him watch Rocky. He'll start taking this coach thing way too seriously. Do you want to start training in a meat locker, Verity? How about running up a flight of frozen stairs?
Yeah, we got ditched for a honeymoon. :P
The meat locker doesn't sound like fun, but running up frozen stairs would only be a colder and more slippery form of the training she already gets.
Harrow gets a smile, and then so does Steve. And she manages to resist the urge to ruffle his hair. "See ya around."
And then it's off to... whatever it is she does all day. It's probably very boring.