By: Velya Posted on: May 27, 2010
A blank page meets her blank stare, the inky quill that she grips too tightly threatening to leak onto the pristine parchment. Try as she might, the ideas are simply not flowing: the images of power stay locked away, refusing to join the parchment. The ink, on the other hand...
'Argh!'
Her momentary distraction caused a sizeable splat, marring the outline of the
High Priestess image-to-be. The card was spoiled. The novice Occultist clenches
her fists in dismay, accidentally crushing the fragile quill as well.
The Tsol'aa youth gave a frustrated glare about herself before settling down
once more, inkstained fingers massaging her throbbing temples. Inscribing was
always such a headache; she'd much rather be hunting or butterflying. Even
exploring and reading the piles of scrolls seemed an acceptable alternative. She
glances at the pitiful stack of completed cards, five cheerful Suns surrounding
a lurid Emperor, then stares mournfully at the stack of assigned blanks. The
pile seems to grow taller, mocking her failure, and she slumps, about to give
up.
Opposite to where she is seated, her shrouded mentor makes a sharp noise of
disapproval. The distracted Unnamed nearly jumps out of her chair in fright.
The stack of blank cards nearly scatters across the table, but a warning glance
and swift steadying motion stops them from falling into the arranged inks.
'Focus, my protege. You can do this,' he admonishes.
'I- I can't!' The novice protests, almost pleadingly. 'It won't stay on the
card!'
The mentor peers at his protege momentarily, then rises, shuffling something out
of his deck of cards. It quickly begins to glow with mystical energy as he rubs
it. The card is released, slowly dropping to the earth, bathing the novice in a
muted blue light as it falls.
'Here, drink this too.'
An oaken vial rolls across the table from mentor to protege, and she catches it
just as the Magician tarot reaches the floor. The novice, encouraged but
fearful, takes a drink from the vial at the same time. Her headache dissipates
almost entirely with the tarot's aid, and the mana elixir rejuvenates her mind.
The young Tsol'aa finds herself reaching for a fresh quill and card, boosted by
the timely aid.
The remnants of her last failure are quickly swept aside in favour of a new
blank card, which is swiftly outlined. The mentor has to hide a proud grin as
the young Tsol'aa continues to fill in the image with colour. She seems utterly
absorbed in her work, adding a smudge of rosy crimson here, a dash of gold
there...Soon, the card is completed.
The novice finally looks up, a triumphant grin on her face. 'I did it! I really
did it!' she cheers.
The mentor nods silently in approval, but says nothing.
The novice beams broadly, reaching for another card and beginning again with
renewed fervour. The outline is swiftly captured in a few strokes of the quill,
and she is about to start the colouring process when she suddenly pauses.
'Thank you for the help!' she says cheerfully. The mentor nods again with a
smile. The novice flashes him a joyous smile in return, but it quickly falters
as her mentor's smile vanishes.
Something wet splashes onto her hand, and she glances down, her brows creasing
in a frown.
"Aw, not again!"
"Pay attention...we do not have that many cards to spare. Good luck."
The mentor exits the room with a wry chuckle, leaving the disgruntled novice to
finish the pile.
"She'll be 'scribing Aeon in no time...and making ol' Rurin the richest man in
Sapience, no doubt."