30 Searing 121, Late
Streets of Kalzasi
Walking home from the meeting at the Luekos manor house Torin let his mind go a little, not even wandering, just relaxed, no thoughts lingering. The stars were bright, the sky the cloudless of a Searing night, deep black and full of light. He had stayed long, talked long, and, to his surprise, enjoyed himself. Expectations for the meeting had been clinical, professional, nervous. The reality had been vast in its differences, both between his expectations and his general experience with the nobility. With anyone, really.
The world was not a kind place as it existed in the mind of the tall blond youth as he moved, shoulders wide and face open, through the streets of a city he tried to remember was dangerous. The disparation between his bone-deep belief that the world was a cruel place and how he had to constantly remind himself that it was dangerous was only one of the contradictions that made up this man he was becoming.
But it had been a good day. He would have work. He might have friends. No, he might have more friends than those who had already come into his life. He grinned, dropping his eyes from the heavens to his boots as an expanding warmth filled his chest made of the memories he kept bundled inside him, gifts from those he was growing to love. Hands shoved deep and comfortable in his pockets found and wrapped around the little stones he'd been gifted. Tiny, miracle offerings of friendship made solid singing, one against each palm. One was pure aether and the other air, but there was more mixed into their essence than simply what they were.
He let them speak to him, in the way of such things, not words, no thoughts, only concepts. The aether was calm and thoughtful with little sparks of something fierce. The air felt like it had laughter at its heart, charming and easy. They were good representations of their makers, or so he imagined based on their very limited acquaintance. Torin had viewed them through aether glass, of course, so it was as likely as anything he was projecting his own observations into the little gems. Gods knew the other runesmiths he'd worked with hadn't felt the sorts of things he thought he could when he worked with magic.
Mind and feet rambled on into the night until they both brought him to his bed, where he slept the sleep of those who work hard, wish no ill on anyone, and have only gentle secrets to hide.
31-40 Searing 121
Runeforging Shop
Over the days that followed he spent as much time as he could with the little stones. It was his way, as he prepared for a project, to grow familiar with the magic to be used, even just having them in his pockets helped. It helped, he felt, if they knew him too. The magic bent more easily to his will when it was thus.
In his own time he also went back over the sketches and calculations he'd jotted down while observing and speaking to Kala and Kaus. They had each given him a gift and it seemed likely he would only give them one in return, but he got the feeling they would both be pleased by it. If it worked.
When he was sure of his schematics, as sure as he could be, he began working on the mold for the piece. It would have to be poured, no chance he could get something so small and finely shaped with a hammer. Besides, he wanted to use silver, had gone out and spent his own money on a small ingot, eight ounces worth. The mold itself took days of spare time to complete. It was the longest part of the process, as the magic he intended to imbue was only slight. He tested the mold on some scrap tin first, adjusting it several times before he was satisfied. The shape was that of a woman, adult, but slim and small. No real features detailed her face, only vague impressions of eyes, mouth, nose, hands, and feet.. She was clothed in equally vague style, but certainly clothed. Her arms were in a soaring pose, one foot lifted a little as though she were readying to leap or fly. Her hair was short and smooth, falling just past the curve of her face. There were two tiny holes in the back of her, to either side of her spine, where her shoulderblade shower. It was into these that Torin poured the viscerite.
Taking the two little stones from the box where he kept them, unwrapping them from the soft fabric he'd carefully stowed them away in, he placed them into the aether forge with a final whispered word of thanks and purpose to each. Adjusting the aether glass carefully he took his time, let the magic come out when it willed it, when the nudging of his own will persuaded it. Force was not his way, even when he swung a hammer in what many would see as violence. The air came away easily, opening itself as though eager for its new purpose. The pure aether was slower, cautiously taking its time to draw forth, but then coming boldly.
Bringing the little silver Lady over with delicately held tongs he poured the air viscerite into the tiny hose first, bending and shaping its purpose as he did, losing himself in the winding song of its essential existence, mixing it with his own until, briefly, they became one, and he was able to lead. This took the day, and it was dark all of a sudden when he looked up from it. Carefully storing the pure viscerite he went and found his bed, forging his supper or anything else in his weariness.
The next day he returned, check on both the silver lady to see how the air magic was settling and then on the remaining unused magical essence. Both were well, to his relief, and he settled into the last part of the making. This would be more complicated, something he'd never attempted before. To key magic to a specific person. He knew it could be done, had been taught how to do it, had practiced the theory, and watched it done by others. There was no reason he should be unable to do it but nerves still coursed through him as he changed from his shirt into his leathers.
The process was complex he went slow, ensuring each step was perfect before moving to the next. It took two days, in the end, before he was finished. In that time he only paused to sleep for a few exhausted hours, eat twice, and make his daily calls with his pendant to Aurin. The man knew what he was attempting, they had spoken of it. Torin wasn't sure how much the man really understood when he started getting technical but his man was a good listener either way.
At long last he sat, back bent and head hanging, the piece looking even smaller than it was in his big hands. She didn't really look different, perhaps glossier in a way, and the holes in her back were gone. There was no way for him to test his work, to know if it actually did as he'd intended. It was keyed to Kala Luekos, made with the pure essence of her magic, only she would be able to activate it.
The blond was tired beyond tired, but happy, pleased, content. He rarely wept when he worked the magic on his own anymore. It still left him feeling drained, like a pitcher poured out, but it was coming to feel less traumatic.
Standing took a real effort, the sun had just set and the evening insects were beginning to sing for their Searing mates, a quiet rhythm that was the same, country village and city alike. It made him smile, stretching and yawning, as he stepped across the forge space and placed the tiny statue into the same soft cloth the stones that now filled her had ones nestled in. Locking her in with a promise to return to check on her the next day that even he could admit was childish, he went to find twelve hours of sleep.
When he woke he had work to do for his master, for his job, but he did take a moment after breakfast to check on his creation. She did not have a mouth, he hadn't given her one, but when he opened the box and peered inside, he could have sworn she smiled up at him.
After the day's work was done, thankfully only a load of blacksmithing and no magic work, he wrote a note and paid Timon a copper to run it over Luekos manner. The boy was over eager and he had to make him sit still and listen to the directions three times before his normally keen mind could repeat them back correctly.
~~~
Lady Kala,
I am writing to thank you for your generous hospitality and in the hope that you are well.
Also so that I might request another meeting, to farther the creation of the contract we
spoke of, and so that I might return the kindness of gift-giving that is the way of your
people, if you will allow me. You can send back a time a place for our meeting by my
(very eager) runner or if you need time to set things, you know where to find me.
Thank you for your time and patience.
Your servant,
Torin Kilvin.
Streets of Kalzasi
Walking home from the meeting at the Luekos manor house Torin let his mind go a little, not even wandering, just relaxed, no thoughts lingering. The stars were bright, the sky the cloudless of a Searing night, deep black and full of light. He had stayed long, talked long, and, to his surprise, enjoyed himself. Expectations for the meeting had been clinical, professional, nervous. The reality had been vast in its differences, both between his expectations and his general experience with the nobility. With anyone, really.
The world was not a kind place as it existed in the mind of the tall blond youth as he moved, shoulders wide and face open, through the streets of a city he tried to remember was dangerous. The disparation between his bone-deep belief that the world was a cruel place and how he had to constantly remind himself that it was dangerous was only one of the contradictions that made up this man he was becoming.
But it had been a good day. He would have work. He might have friends. No, he might have more friends than those who had already come into his life. He grinned, dropping his eyes from the heavens to his boots as an expanding warmth filled his chest made of the memories he kept bundled inside him, gifts from those he was growing to love. Hands shoved deep and comfortable in his pockets found and wrapped around the little stones he'd been gifted. Tiny, miracle offerings of friendship made solid singing, one against each palm. One was pure aether and the other air, but there was more mixed into their essence than simply what they were.
He let them speak to him, in the way of such things, not words, no thoughts, only concepts. The aether was calm and thoughtful with little sparks of something fierce. The air felt like it had laughter at its heart, charming and easy. They were good representations of their makers, or so he imagined based on their very limited acquaintance. Torin had viewed them through aether glass, of course, so it was as likely as anything he was projecting his own observations into the little gems. Gods knew the other runesmiths he'd worked with hadn't felt the sorts of things he thought he could when he worked with magic.
Mind and feet rambled on into the night until they both brought him to his bed, where he slept the sleep of those who work hard, wish no ill on anyone, and have only gentle secrets to hide.
31-40 Searing 121
Runeforging Shop
Over the days that followed he spent as much time as he could with the little stones. It was his way, as he prepared for a project, to grow familiar with the magic to be used, even just having them in his pockets helped. It helped, he felt, if they knew him too. The magic bent more easily to his will when it was thus.
In his own time he also went back over the sketches and calculations he'd jotted down while observing and speaking to Kala and Kaus. They had each given him a gift and it seemed likely he would only give them one in return, but he got the feeling they would both be pleased by it. If it worked.
When he was sure of his schematics, as sure as he could be, he began working on the mold for the piece. It would have to be poured, no chance he could get something so small and finely shaped with a hammer. Besides, he wanted to use silver, had gone out and spent his own money on a small ingot, eight ounces worth. The mold itself took days of spare time to complete. It was the longest part of the process, as the magic he intended to imbue was only slight. He tested the mold on some scrap tin first, adjusting it several times before he was satisfied. The shape was that of a woman, adult, but slim and small. No real features detailed her face, only vague impressions of eyes, mouth, nose, hands, and feet.. She was clothed in equally vague style, but certainly clothed. Her arms were in a soaring pose, one foot lifted a little as though she were readying to leap or fly. Her hair was short and smooth, falling just past the curve of her face. There were two tiny holes in the back of her, to either side of her spine, where her shoulderblade shower. It was into these that Torin poured the viscerite.
Taking the two little stones from the box where he kept them, unwrapping them from the soft fabric he'd carefully stowed them away in, he placed them into the aether forge with a final whispered word of thanks and purpose to each. Adjusting the aether glass carefully he took his time, let the magic come out when it willed it, when the nudging of his own will persuaded it. Force was not his way, even when he swung a hammer in what many would see as violence. The air came away easily, opening itself as though eager for its new purpose. The pure aether was slower, cautiously taking its time to draw forth, but then coming boldly.
Bringing the little silver Lady over with delicately held tongs he poured the air viscerite into the tiny hose first, bending and shaping its purpose as he did, losing himself in the winding song of its essential existence, mixing it with his own until, briefly, they became one, and he was able to lead. This took the day, and it was dark all of a sudden when he looked up from it. Carefully storing the pure viscerite he went and found his bed, forging his supper or anything else in his weariness.
The next day he returned, check on both the silver lady to see how the air magic was settling and then on the remaining unused magical essence. Both were well, to his relief, and he settled into the last part of the making. This would be more complicated, something he'd never attempted before. To key magic to a specific person. He knew it could be done, had been taught how to do it, had practiced the theory, and watched it done by others. There was no reason he should be unable to do it but nerves still coursed through him as he changed from his shirt into his leathers.
The process was complex he went slow, ensuring each step was perfect before moving to the next. It took two days, in the end, before he was finished. In that time he only paused to sleep for a few exhausted hours, eat twice, and make his daily calls with his pendant to Aurin. The man knew what he was attempting, they had spoken of it. Torin wasn't sure how much the man really understood when he started getting technical but his man was a good listener either way.
At long last he sat, back bent and head hanging, the piece looking even smaller than it was in his big hands. She didn't really look different, perhaps glossier in a way, and the holes in her back were gone. There was no way for him to test his work, to know if it actually did as he'd intended. It was keyed to Kala Luekos, made with the pure essence of her magic, only she would be able to activate it.
The blond was tired beyond tired, but happy, pleased, content. He rarely wept when he worked the magic on his own anymore. It still left him feeling drained, like a pitcher poured out, but it was coming to feel less traumatic.
Standing took a real effort, the sun had just set and the evening insects were beginning to sing for their Searing mates, a quiet rhythm that was the same, country village and city alike. It made him smile, stretching and yawning, as he stepped across the forge space and placed the tiny statue into the same soft cloth the stones that now filled her had ones nestled in. Locking her in with a promise to return to check on her the next day that even he could admit was childish, he went to find twelve hours of sleep.
When he woke he had work to do for his master, for his job, but he did take a moment after breakfast to check on his creation. She did not have a mouth, he hadn't given her one, but when he opened the box and peered inside, he could have sworn she smiled up at him.
After the day's work was done, thankfully only a load of blacksmithing and no magic work, he wrote a note and paid Timon a copper to run it over Luekos manner. The boy was over eager and he had to make him sit still and listen to the directions three times before his normally keen mind could repeat them back correctly.
~~~
Lady Kala,
I am writing to thank you for your generous hospitality and in the hope that you are well.
Also so that I might request another meeting, to farther the creation of the contract we
spoke of, and so that I might return the kindness of gift-giving that is the way of your
people, if you will allow me. You can send back a time a place for our meeting by my
(very eager) runner or if you need time to set things, you know where to find me.
Thank you for your time and patience.
Your servant,
Torin Kilvin.
