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 Posted: Sat Sep 16, 2006 5:49 pm
The LETTER.
x_x Sorry Chin, I'll fill this out ASAP. Or more likely, when I'm done with a birthday card. <3
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2006 2:47 pm
A small sheet of canvas slipped under the door. A picture of Sabriel riding Prince as a real lion, drawn upon the sheet.  Attached to the drawing was a small note. Dear Sabriel,
I hope you like this drawing. It's a small gift from me to you and Prince. If you like this first one and want any other drawings of you or Prince just look me up!
~ heart Chii Hakubi
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Posted: Sat Dec 02, 2006 2:40 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 02, 2006 2:41 pm
The day for the test had come. Chin had held off, wanting his arm to heal completely before they tried it, but Sabriel insisted. She wasn't good for confrontation. In the end he won, and that was why she was here now, holding the door open to the Alignment Room. Nervous, but not as nervous as he was. For Sabe to be meant this was a big deal. Why wouldn't it be? He was born in magic, lived around magic, practically breathed the stuff. Today was a personal validation.
"Now remember the instructions, be careful, good luck..." twittered Chinchillie at his elbow, fingers splayed protectively over her belly like the magic might hurt it somehow. He pulled free with an impatient sniff and walked to the center of the room. He wouldn't have been surprised if flame had leaped up from the engraved circle, or sparks, or iron bars enclosing him inside - it'd be in character with the rest of HQ - but nothing of the sort happened. The hum of magic got louder.
The lime green cast didn't look absurd. In fact, the ancient feel of reverence dulled the color, the sheer modernness of it fading to background noise. An expectant statue of prickly black fur and shivering tails was left, pupils dilated with emotion. Sabriel twitched from side to side, keeping the instructions in his head. When he heard Chin talking, trying to help out in her unhelpful way, he flattened his ears back so her voice couldn't be heard.
Squinching his eyes shut and feeling barely silly, he concentrated. 'Concentrate' had been the only instruction, and he worried, because what were they supposed to concentrate on?
The pillars didn't respond. He started to panic, envisioning terrible futures.
Len, smug and smirking, twirling tornados to amuse herself while the world bowed down at her clawed vulture feet.
Himself as one of her servants, worthless and doomed to a life of boredom.
Delphine and Lassa would throw Prince out into the lake, and then drown him when he tried to save the lion...simply because they were fiends.
However unlikely the last, he had no chance to find out; through all that concentrating, something clicked. Something words couldn't describe, something he couldn't repeat if asked, that changed the entire feeling of the room, focused on the encircling pillars. Two of the pillars sprang to life and filled the room with a soft blue glow. Behind him, a female voice cheered. He hid the shaking of his hands (he'd known all along it would work, anyway), and touched both pillars, knowing instantly what they were.
Gravity and Shadow. Gravity reached overhead, nearly at the strong guage. Shadow was a foot lower and closer to his height.
The day morning, groggy and sour tempered, Sabriel slumped on the sofa, watching shadows flicker at the corners of the room. All night. All night long he'd tried to make them do something, and nothing had happened. He wanted to do cool magical things NOW.
Maybe Chin had a deathwish. Maybe she was smarter than he gave her credit for. While Sabriel became increasingly frustrated, glowering at the ceiling, she rose from where she sat, pushing a pencil into the Mishap's hand before he saw h
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Posted: Wed Dec 27, 2006 6:45 am
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Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2010 11:13 am
Dear Diary,
I guess it's true when they say good things never last.
It has been a long time since I saw the back of my first son. That angry, fierce teenager must surely be well on his way to being a man. I blamed myself when Aramae left home: if I had been a better mother, maybe he would have stayed. As the long years passed, I realized that the blame lay elsewhere, on the shoulders of the children and guardians at the Galatean temple. While bright at the beginning, it soon became a place of quarrels and drama neverending. He saw his childhood fall to pieces around him and left it behind.
But maybe my first assumption was the right one. Now it's Sabriel. Darby says he was a bad seed from the start. This is probably true. The Mishaps HQ gave him to me, though, because they thought I would raise him right and take away the unfortunate burden he had been born with. Were they the wrong ones in asking me to change his very soul? Was that right? Somehow, I don't care. I'm a muse - I have powerful allies and abilities at my disposal, ones that may have helped, had they been used.
Sabriel had become a different person when he discovered his magic. He disappeared without warning one night, without a note to explain himself. His room had been torn to pieces. We hired a mage to try and figure out where he had gone, but the mage had quickly backed out of the room, muttering dire things about dark magic. According to him the room was awash with negative energies, drowning out any information that could be taken from it. He also suggested we burn the room. What an a**.
Long story short, we had the room cleansed without burning it down. Now all I have is Melody, and I'm not sure that's the grace it should be. If I'm this terrible parent, shouldn't she be put up for adoption to give her the best possible chance? That's awful. I know. Darby would clout me over the head if she read this (she probably does), but I can't help worrying.
~Chinchillie
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Posted: Mon Jan 04, 2010 11:25 am
The streets of Barton were all a'bustle even as a thick summer heat fell across the shoulders of Gaia. Business men wearing ties were shoved aside by elves with swords slung across their backs. A shadow fell across the road as a gryphon whirled round for a landing atop the nearest building, and a motorcycle screamed past, nuclear fusion making its passage a wild blur. It was easy to get lost in, a scene like this.
A mage lounged in a doorway, half-hidden by shadows, and lazily watched the traffic. His name was Nicholas Murwine, and he was there for a reason.
A young boy fell into step behind a woman heavily laden with shopping bags. His outline shimmered slightly in the heat.
The amount of pickpockets on the streets had risen outrageously in the last year. Barton's government was finally cracking down. Mages like Nicholas found themselves drafted into this; because these pickpockets were special. Their fingers were deft not only with a wallet but with magic as well. Someone was helping them.
A stray spark of magic flickered against Nick's mind. He sat up straighter. 'Probably some idiot that couldn't get their engine started.' he thought, scanning the street. His awareness stretched out to touch the minds of those nearest the doorway. It finally focused on the boy, whose thoughts were quite obvious to those who could read them - a woman's purse.
The only warning the boy had as he crossed the doorway as a shout: "Halt, thief!" Nick swung his mages' staff and flung forth a freezing spell that would stop the offender in his tracks. 'Got you!'
Time slowed in the spell's wake. He saw the boy pause, dark brown eyes narrowing in focus. Nicholas couldn't see the spell as it rebounded, but felt the effects.
Time again sped up as he crashed to the ground, rendered immobile, and the thief quickly closed the distance. He snatched up the mages staff where it lay, gave Nicholas a feral grin, and bounded off into the crowd. The whole exchange had taken only seconds. Only now was anyone responding to Nick's shout, and by then it was too late.
---
'Stupid mage!' he thought gleefully, loping along the dark sidestreets with the mage's staff carefully disguised under another spell. The boy scrambled over stone walls, crept underneath wire, and at last tumbled over a wooden fence into an alleyway that was cool with damp and mud. Crouching in its shadow, he took the ring on his right hand and twisted it. The disguise magic fell away. Dark brown skin gave way to black fur, dark brown eyes to slit-pupil yellow. Sabriel stretched his tails with a loud snap, accidently taking a chunk of wood from the fence.
Mind readers. He snickered. All you had to do was focus and they were in the palm of your hand.
Time had changed his appearance dramatically, but not his charming self. The somewhat stocky child had become lean and strong. He went shirtless, but human decency meant he was stuck with a pair of ripped capris, one leg torn off at the knee. Fingerless gloves adorned his hands. The woman he'd been pretending to stalk had worn less jewelry than he; gold earrings, a necklace and several rings were about his person, and each had a particular purpose. And that purpose wasn't for looking good - Sabriel thought it looked ridiculous. Alas, the decision was not his to make.
He worked out the kinks in his tails before examining his prize. The staff hummed with power. There was time to tame it before the mage regained control of his faculties, and there was no such time like the present. The Mishap tore off one of his rings and cupped it in the palm of his hand. To anyone watching, it would appear Sabriel had fallen asleep standing up - his breathing slowed, his eyes shuttered, and he sagged against the fence, heedless of the mud he now slid into.
A mage's staff was an extension of one's own soul. In actuality he was running his consciousness down that path between staff and mage, a dark stinging presence. Many blocks away, Nicholas shook even under the influence of the freezing spell. Sabriel "grabbed" one of the tagger spells enclosed in the ring and hid it deep in Nicholas' soul, before quickly darting back up the link, back to himself. When he opened his eyes, the humming had stilled; the path had crumbled behind him. This always annoyed Sabe. The staff was now no more than a pretty stick - he chucked it over the fence, muttering irritably to himself. Just once, he'd like to keep one.
At least his masters would be happy. The tagger spell made that mage one less threat. They could track him and control him, and though he'd be able to sense it, there was nothing to be done about it. Nicholas Murwine was in for a miserable existance, there was no doubt there.
As for Sabriel, he had time to kill before reporting back. The cat Mishap mournfully twitched his tails before enfolding them once more in the disguise spell. He wobbled briefly in order to regain his balance, then stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered back towards the main streets of Barton, whistling under his breath. Maybe he'd go visit that mage - gloat a bit, as it were.
For the time being, he was King of the World.
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