Date: September 1, 1998
Place: Old City Garden - Haven
Cast: Dawn (Aurora I), Lucian
Scene: Recently, Dawn had met with the young Emperor, and discovered him to be charming, pleasant, open-minded, and self-effacing--and decidedly unlike most of the nobility. Therefore, she agreed to teach him. Here is their first lesson...

The soft sound of rustling fabric marks the Emperor's descent from the sky, his wings folding noiselessly behind him. Walking into the garden, the youth's head turns back and forth, searching for someone or something.

A balmy spring breeze soughs through the leaves, and the only light is that cast by a waning moon and a few scattered stars. The only sounds are those of nocturnal creatures lurking within the garden, and your own footsteps. You might very well be alone here--although the sensation of being watched tells you otherwise.

Lucian stops, closes his eyes, and relaxes his arms at his sides.

The soft spring breeze strengthens, rushing toward you to stir your hair, wings, and clothing, then changing direction and rushing away. It is then that you notice a shape--not by eyesight, but by a special sense that only a few possess. The outline is bright--much brighter than most you'd ever seen, and the aura is a turmoil of greys and blues, like the sky before a storm. The figure is standing beneath the willow tree, where you'd met her before, though things look much different at night.

Lucian stands, transfixed, looking at beauty--at magic--in a way few ever see and even fewer appreciate. After a few moments, the youth shakes his head as if to clear it, and gathers his robes about him, carefully stepping off the path and through the vegetation towards the tree. As he approaches, he dips his brow in greeting and smiles. "Good evening, domina."

"Deus," she returns in a characteristically quiet voice. "I see you are without your bodyguard today. Did you have to slip away in secrecy?" She sounds wryly amused at the prospect.

The youth flashes his characteristic grin, his eyes lighting up playfully. "The Deus is safely locked in his chambers, wrapped in the arms of a deep, restful sleep." Lucian chuckles, adding "And a good thing, too. I don't think Raphael would survive another night in the cyprian's hands..."

"I think the less said of that, the better," Dawn returns lightly. Even without consciously using the sight, a faint outline still glows around her, like the afterimage imprinted on your eyelids after you've looked away from the sun. It is that which enables you to see her in the almost pitch-darkness of the garden. She beckons you closer. "Did you do as I asked? Did you study the wind?"

"Agreed" answers the youth, and the playfulness vanishes from his features as he steps over the willow's roots and stands beside you. "Aye, domina, I did. It ... it seems to blow without pattern! Sometimes this way, sometimes that; the only sense I can make of it is that it seems to behave as a great sea--it flows back and forth, and where one gust leaves, another soon fills in." Lucian scratches his head, a perplexed look moving across his features. "But ... if this is the way it is, how can we control the winds here, without also causing something ... somewhere else?"

"Ahh, as I said before, you are very perceptive," she says, and she sounds vaguely pleased--as though she had presented you with a riddle and you'd solved it far quicker than she'd anticipated. "You used water as an example, and it is a good one. For like water, there are ripples that spread and affect things far away. Even the smallest action has repercussions. That is why we cannot wield the wind haphazardly. Great care must be taken." The tone she adopts is serious, and though you cannot see her expression in the dark, it is no doubt grave. "For this reason, we shall start slowly, with simple exercises. Do not be frustrated--they are smaller steps in preparation for the larger ones. And besides, if you are anxious, the wind will feel it, and act accordingly."

The black-robed Empyrean only nods. "The instructors at Delphi said as much, that the power we wielded could have staggering repercussions if we were not careful." At your last comment, however, Lucian looks perplexed. "You mean the winds are alive?"

"In a manner of speaking," she replies, and as if on cue, the light breeze picks up again and swirls in tiny eddies around the garden--rustling a tree-branch there, setting a night-blooming flower to bobbing, or stirring the leafy fronds of the willow tree. "Perhaps it is a rather Sylvan way of looking at things, but sometimes I suspect that all things have... spirits. The trees, the earth, the water, and yes, even the wind. It is an independent thing, and it will not always act as you wish it to. Trying to impose your will on it will only make the task more difficult. You must nudge it along." She lifts a hand in a gesture and says, "Try it. Feel the breeze, and push it where you wish it to go."

Lucian looks around at the animation caused by invisible hands, and tries to relax himself. Half-closing his eyes, there's a sudden puff of wind--as if something shoved by a clumsy child. His brow tightening in consternation, the youth tries again; this time, a gentle breeze begins to move around. Parting the willow-fronds, circling around to play at the hem of your cloak, shifting back that way to slide over the tops of the flowers. A dandelion-puff explodes in a shower of white, lending some visual cue to the invisible force.

Lucian smiles satisfactorily, opening his eyes. "It's easier to make strong gusts than maintain subtle control, domina..."

Nodding in the darkness, Dawn replies, "I know. Just as it is easier to chop a log of wood with a crude axe rather than carve it into pleasing shapes. The wind is so much more than a mere tool, Deus. You must learn to see the beauty in it. Like so many other things, it has its destructive side. But looking at it as simply a weapon, or a means of power, is far too short-sighted. Now," she turns, eyes skimming through the darkness to a patch of more of those pale dandelion tufts, "Again. Only this time, just sway them gently, and keep them whole."

Slight disappointment on Lucian's features, he nods once, and sets to work. "I had thought the puffball a rather nice touch..." he mutters to himself, and closes his eyes again. This time, no rustling of the willow is heard, and only the slightest breeze begins to stir over the ground. No sooner does the youth begin to grin victoriously as two of the tufts release their white seeds in a shower of fuzz. "Oh...!" starts Lucian, and as his concentration is broken, so too are three more of the tufts. He bites his lip, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow, and the breeze subsides. "L-let me try again, please?"

"As you wish," she assents, tilting her head as she leans back against the willow's trunk and watches with folded arms.

The Arch-Magus sighs, "This is so different from how casting is done in Delphi. There, subtlety isn't stressed..." Lucian takes a deep breath. "All right, I can do this. I just have to relax..." With that, he smooths out his robes and drops his hands to his sides. Closing his eyes gently, there is a long pause. Nothing seems to happen. One more deep breath, and then ... the faintest sign of a breeze can be felt shifting about your ankles. Rolling softly along the ground, it moves over to the dandelion puffs and rocks them quietly back and forth, not spilling a seed. Then, just as slowly as it began, the breeze dies off, and Lucian opens his eyes. "I did it!" he exclaims, eyes dancing with pride.

"Mmm, you did," she responds, and you might detect a pleased note in her voice. If you could see her face, she might be smiling. "Remember that you must learn to whisper as well as shout; to caress as well as strike. There is more to this gift than sheer power. The precise control you will need to prevent it from consuming you is better learned through subtlety. Now, another exercise." She pushes herself off the tree's trunk and walks a little way out into the garden, peering skyward. Then, pointing, she indicates the silhouette of a single leaf against the moon. "See that?" she asks. "Tell the winds to blow toward it, but without shaking the leaf itself. I want to see how precise your abilities are. See how close you can send the breeze, without disturbing that one leaf."

Lucian nods, and looks up, squinting. "Send the wind towards it, without actually touching it? B-but...how will I know when I'm close?"

"The leaves around it will sway, but that one should remain still," she answers.

The youth nods, swallowing. He holds up his arm and extends his index finger, as if using it to "aim." Nodding again, he drops his arm to his side and purses his lips. The willow-fronds gently sway and part as the column of air rolls through them, slowing down as it nears the target. The willow-twigs lazily shift back and forth up until about an arm's length from the single leaf, and the Arch-Magus looks up as he slowly--very slowly--inches the air closer. Now it appears to be a head's length away... now a hand... Lucian's knuckles whiten involuntarily at the strain as he clenches the hems of his robes...

Silently, the woman watches--both with her eyes and another sense that's constantly in tune with the air around her. That leaf, so far, has remained still...

"Having trouble ... keeping ... back..." Lucian's voice strains, as the column of air moves even closer ... now but a finger's length... The youth's body trembles, his face white, as beads of sweat glisten upon his brow. "It wants to...escape..!"

Your mentor remains silent, but what that silence means is unclear. She could simply be acknowledging your words, or expect you to keep the wind under control--or perhaps it means nothing at all. Perhaps she is simply watching, and waiting.

A look which could be described as anguish twists Lucian's features, as he struggles to keep control. "Just ... a little closer..." he gasps, as he pushes the column of air forward. It shifts closer ... closer ... and the slightest of eddies curls out from the top of the spell's control, gently kissing the leaf which shudders at the touch. At this, the youth cries out and drops to his knees, his magic spent. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, panting heavily, leaning with one hand upon the ground.

The sound of soft footfalls disturbs the quiet as Dawn walks to your side and kneels down, and after a brief pause, she rests her hand on your shoulder for a moment. "Well done," she says. There is praise in her voice. The breeze, now freed of your control, rattles the branches overhead before calming and dissipating.

The Empyrean looks up. In the light of the moon, his pale skin seems almost white, silver perspiration dotting his face. He attempts a smile, and shakily rises to his feet. "Why is it that the smallest things are the most difficult?" he asks tiredly. Then, tilting his head to one side, adds "This must all seem so elementary to you..."

Dawn rises as you do, retreating a step, for the "lesson" is ending, and you must once again assume the mantle of leadership, while she returns to her status of outcast and commoner. "No," she answers, shaking her head. "Every student is different. There is no single method of teaching, and it is as much a discovery for me as it is for you. But you have done well, Deus." In the moonlight, you catch a glimpse of a smile on her lips. "Do not be frustrated with the little things. Together, they add up to bigger ones. Now, will you practice what you learned here today?"

Lucian reaches down and idly brushes himself off, noting your distance with mild amusement. "I look that bad, eh?" he jests, and picks a burr from his sleeve, tossing it on the ground. "Aye, I'll be practicing ... subtle magics attract less attention anyway, so I've little to worry about--and I think these particular spells might just have a worthy application." He grins, adding "The little hairs on the back of Appolonia's neck are so ticklish ... I'll stand somewhere out of sight and see just how long I can get away with it. You have to make a game out of it, you see..."

You hear the ring of amusement in her voice as she shakes her head. "I should probably admonish you by saying that your gift is not a toy, and should not be used for making mischief. But somehow I suspect you'll be learning that the hard way..."

Lucian grins. "I'll probably learn that about as quickly as it takes Appolonia to discover just who is doing it." He rubs his arm and adds, "I'm still sore from the last lesson she 'taught' me." The Emperor chuckles, reaching up to adjust his circlet, the mantle of responsibility falling once more upon his young shoulders. "I should probably get back--it'll be dawn soon, and I'll be missed." He smiles once more, eyes lighting up in sincerity. "Thank you, Domina. I appreciate your sacrifice in doing this more than you could realize."

"It is no sacrifice, Deus," she returns, her voice holding a hint of warmth. "Besides... despite all that has happened, I still bear some loyalty to the Empyre. This is my way of showing it." And with a quick bow of her head, she turns and makes her way along the winding garden path.

Lucian calls out softly, "Some time, you'll have to tell me..." His voice trails off, and he pauses to stoop down and pick a dandelion tuft, placing it gently in a pouch on his belt. Smiling, the youth steps away from the tree, whistling happily to himself.

FIN  

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