Private Tales Swallow Steps

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The group of young men were enthralled by the display of magic, something so simple and yet still extraordinary. They turned to look at one another, then back to the two newcomers before looking amongst themselves again. Shiloh was grinning at Santi’s inclination to participate in her little scheme, even if this wasn’t her trying to cause trouble but instead have fun.

“What about my frog?”

“Yeah, forget Seabiscuit, Blue Beauty needs something!” All too soon, they were picking up their frogs, shoving them towards Santiago and Shiloh. They shouted requests, such as speed or longer jumps, but Shiloh, despite her lack of height, moved herself in front of Santiago in an attempt to keep him safe. Or maybe to choose her frogs first.

She took the orange and blue frogs, keeping her broom held in the crook of her elbow.

“We’re gonna try some things out. Anything bad happens, we can’t be held responsible, deal?” There was some silence alongside the hesitance. “But remember, it’s free.” That seemed to convince them all over again. Shiloh glanced at Santiago. “Don’t copy me!” She chimed, only moving a few feet away. Mr. Sneezy sniffed the frogs when Shiloh put them down. The cat flicked it’s tail, unimpressed.

Santiago Castelle
 
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"Had I such aptitude to replicate spells on sight alone," Santiago said, wry from the corners of that grin, "you'd be referring to me as Maester."

Squatting, he stretched a hand to Mr. Sneezy, letting it hover there while he turned back to the youths and their frogs. Excitement bubbled to the top, and Santiago saw himself reflected in it. Their eyes made mirrors for him, guileless, carefree but for the races that filled such idle hours.

"Very well," he said, still hidden behind a mask of smiles. He approached them and waited as a frog gently hopped into his palm; one of the blues, a verdant stripe singing its crown, heavy pouch vibrating between his fingers in a sudden croak. He covered it in his other palm, leaving a shimmering dew along the frog's back.

From behind a sidelong glance, he cocked a haughty smirk.

"Free is free, but say we place a wager amongst ourselves, Shiloh?"


Shiloh Albright
 
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“A wager, you say,” Shiloh said, a devilish look in her eyes. She looked over her shoulder back at Santi. Mr. Sneezy, that traitor, had trotted her happy, furry self to Santiago. The cat chittered for attention, rubbing her cheek against Santiago’s calf. Shiloh tried not to look jealous or offended but she might have ended up looking both.

“I’m always down for a friendly challenge. What do you have in mind?” Shiloh went back to looking at her frogs, not wanting to seem too eager. Her dark brows furrowed, finally drooping down low enough to peek out past her bangs. There was always a cost with magic and Shiloh was going to have to decide what setbacks she could work with and which ones were going to be the deal breakers.

Santiago Castelle
 
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"Well," Santiago said, stretching the word in a bargain for time. Engendering hesitation, he blanched. He had spared little thought to the details of the matter, something he needed to rectify, and swiftly. A few coins made the most sense—enough to tease value out from the situation, but how much was fair? His own purse was light, hardly worth mentioning. Still, the bet necessitated a transactional nature. Low stakes, then.

In his considerations, he struggled to get a handle on this girl. From reckless flight through city streets to the very suggestion of frog racing, Shiloh's eccentricities were etched guilelessly on her heart. Plain text for Santiago to read, had he the leisure.

Frog nestled in one hand, he set about the other to nuzzle the familiar. He certainly lacked leisure now, participating in a quite singular race of his own; a bet. His suggestion. Something to fit within the confines of expectation...

Or not.

He went with an easy shrug, straightened from petting the cat. No need to overthink it. Having followed her on a whim, he could but answer in kind:

"Why don't you buy me lunch when you lose?" he said with a wan smile masked as he turned to brush down his knees.


Shiloh Albright
 
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Her head raised up, her dark eyes were wide with good-natured humor.

“When I lose?” She asked, a hint of laughter in her voice even though she tried to sound appalled by such a statement. Shiloh scoffed, rolling her shoulders back as if adding a spell to a frog was the same as menial labor. Shiloh had never worked a hard job once in her life, her entire family made up of academics that also didn’t understand hard work. Still, hunching over a desk and reading for hours often gave one bad posture.

“I like that confidence, Santi.” Shiloh said, deciding on a good combination for Seabiscuit. The frog would feel less compelled to jump often, and would also find itself needing to rest for a few seconds in between jumps, but its jumps would cover a much greater distance. Now for Blue Beauty. “But you’ll be buying me lunch instead.” Mr. Sneezy snickered in the way that cats could by squinting it’s eyes and twitching it’s black whiskers.

Shiloh pulled out a piece of limpid blue chalk, beginning to draw a sigil on the back of Seabiscuit before deciding on the proper sequence of words to make the spell stick to the frog without having too many adverse effects. At least, that was what she was betting on.

“Santiago,” Mr. Sneezy said, her voice sounding close and far all at once. “Do you need help?”

“Don’t help him! Help me.” Shiloh said. Mr. Sneezy didn’t even turn her head to the girl, instead she waited for Santiago’s answer.

Santiago Castelle
 
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Further conversation fell deaf upon Santiago's ears, his brow scrunched in concentration. Behind his eyes laid half-formed glyphs and warding sigils in abstract mockery of the ley; he scrawled them out in turn, abandoning any patterned after violence (of which there were many, for the arcane had a way of eliciting such tendencies in its pupils). His lips were pursed, smile a wispy recollection of dream. He scanned over the track, repeated the motion, and set about his calculations.

The spark lingered still within him, freshly lit tinder comprised of excess. Converting it to spellcraft proved simple, at least when he attempted to use it within the confines of his own flesh. A burst of speed, a hanging cusp of light, a spout of water to trickle from a sieve—all usages to which he professed knowledge.

Knowledge, not mastery. The difference struck him, a sounding blow in the hollows of his chest, and stripped the arrogance from his facade. Spells forged in the crucible of power could too easily harm creatures so frail as these frogs. One misplaced phrase, an iota of energy enacting inertia beyond its form, and the entire experiment promised ruination.

He could—

"What?" he asked, cut from the reverie that gripped him to replay the last of the familiar's words.

"Yes," he said, and repeated himself, "yes, I would appreciate your help. Could you startle Blue Beauty for me when we begin?"

He set the frog down, two fingers pressed light on its back as he began his spell. From formless breath to syllogistic phrase, he gave a staccato beat that pattered out to whorls of air beneath Blue Beauty's feet. The frog fidgeted gingerly at the touch. Anticipation, or as close to it as it could feel.

At least, Santiago hoped the creature mirrored him in this.


Shiloh Albright
 
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“Don’t help him!” Shiloh protested once more but Mr. Sneezy could hardly care her personal shit-scooper’s complaining. Another flicker of her ears and Shiloh had her answer. The black cat went to circle around Santiago and the frog, inspecting the two of them with the sort of interested disinterest all cats managed with such ease.

“Are you sure?” Mr. Sneezy asked. “This is the spell you want to do?” Her voice gave nothing away and cats were not nearly as expressive as humans so her face did little in showing her thoughts.

“Well I’m finished!” Shiloh shouted, standing up with her two frogs. “You’re out of time, Santi, it’s time to race!” Like a child on their birthday, she scampered back to the simple track, putting the frogs down. The boys from before began to crowd her, asking her question after question. They asked about speed, about traction (why would a frog need traction?), frog power, and hops. “You’ll see soon enough!” Was all she could say.

Santiago Castelle
 
Santiago adopted a voice of command, all sharp edges and quiet dictation not unlike the tone he used in murmuring the adhesive elements of his earlier spell.

"Begin," he said, cutting his palm down to signal the youths to start the race.

They scrambled in obeyance, lifting a tattered flag in some semblance of formality. Shouting ensued, excitedly swarming the frogs that yet lingered at the starting line; low, muddled ribbits and confused, ginger hops began to dot the track. Few of them managed much in the way of forward momentum—mimics all in repetition of the prior performance.

Santiago was not perturbed.

Placing his faith in the familiar, he bent at the waist to cup his hands before Blue Beauty. A resonance of power thrummed from those outstretched palms, twinning the breaths of whirling air that danced between the frog's feet (dabbling the webbing, leaving ripples in its wake). Sparing only a moment to swallow, he sighed through the gap of his hands. Unleashed the microcosm of a gale.

Sudden wind stormed from Blue Beauty's toes, leaving luck alone to know whether its next hop could propel it onward to victory.


Shiloh Albright
 
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The feline familiar wasn’t partial to the skinny human they had continued to cross paths with for the past ten years, and as fate would have it, the cat itself was a fickle thing. It wasn’t partial to Santiago either, but it was partial towards one thing in particular, mischief. So it readied itself, crouching low and wiggling its haunches, tail twitching in greedy anticipation. Small tremors could be seen in the delicate curl of her jaw as her whiskers began to lean forward as if they wished to touch the frog themselves.

True to her word, Mr. Sneezy made sure to frighten the frog with a yowl and a perfectly placed pounce, pelt puffed and round. It did more than just frighten one frog, all of them beginning to leap to action. The two that Shiloh had enchanted began to hop, magic chalk aglow with the arcane in sloppy, sloping curls. One only leaped once and covered plenty of ground, the other hopped aplenty but the tiny spring in its legs was short yet consistent.

Shiloh’s hands were tight fists, knuckles white and long nails digging into her palms. She would’ve moved Mr. Sneezy herself but the cat had left the racetrack with a much more refined and elegant jump than before. It rubbed itself against Shiloh’s skinny ankles as if to apologize.

“Aw, come on!” The delinquent witch shouted, dark eyes darting to Santiago’s lone frog. “Cheater.” She muttered.

Santiago Castelle
 
Santiago laughed, light and boyish, and raked a hand through his hair. By a breath, he restrained himself from jumping in echo of the race. It left his heart pounding from the effort. Exhilaration flared within him, played in time with the frogs and their frenetic hops.

The gossamer whorls of arcane energy coalesced around Blue Beauty's toes, discs of wind in the form of small, dust-whipped planes. The frog tribbled and lurched, hind legs exploding back in a single, frightened leap; and leap it did. Where the other frogs skittered and trounced about the track in the chaos of the familiar's interruption, bereft the surety of direction, Blue Beauty sung trues its namesake.

A blur of blue soared the track, arced from start to the finish line. One long, ceaseless jump guided by the cackle of magic that popped on the descent. Mirrored ruptures punctuated the air, righting the frog's course as it drew nearer the goal. Blue Beauty shuddered to a halt, croaked, and laid flat. Exhaustion marked the creature's crest, its eyes thick and lidded full. Deaf to its landing fanfare. The youths circled, crowding the limp frog, crooning out excited praise that drowned one another out.

Santiago bowed, all solemnity and proper grace but for the smile that crept wide over his lips, and offered his thanks to the familiar.

"I accept your gracious offer of defeat," he said, making no effort to stifle the smile for Shiloh. Turning to her with a cocked brow, he mouthed, "She's your cat."

"So, any ideas for where you'll be treating me?"


Shiloh Albright
 
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“Show off. I thought you said you lacked familiarity with this kind of stuff?” Shiloh was quick to huff out, crossing her arms over her chest so she could glower at Santiago as he smiled wide for her. For a moment, her heart betrayed her, the steady tempo quickening, threatening to make her cheeks glow roses at the sight before her. Lucky for her, his smug words quickly reminded her that she shouldn’t indulge his ego further.

Mr. Sneezy mewled, kitten-like and playful, but Shiloh wouldn’t look down at the furry traitor. Even trying to argue with the finicky creature would only amount to cogitating about untouchable things that Shiloh cared little about. Her mother liked things about fate and destiny, desire and disaster, anything that could be found in the stars. Therefore, because her mother enjoyed it, Shiloh made sure she hated it.

Her serious stance slackened, hands falling down to her hips so she could breathe in deeply to let out a sigh full of melodrama. She then waved it away, slowly becoming accustomed to the fact that she had lost, and everyone knew fair was fair.

“I have a place in mind.” Shiloh looked over Santiago’s robes, at his pristine hair. “Nothing fancy, but let me tell you, the best sandwiches in Elbion can be found at The Great Impasta Two… or Three? I dunno, they had their grand re-re-opening a few weeks ago.” The frog racers were still ogling the frogs, talking about the magic used, debating on how well it would work for one race compared to another. Blue Beauty croaked, perhaps in victory.

The blue frog went limp, one eye twitching before it stilled, half-lidded and exhausted.

“Anyways, who cares, you like meatball sandwiches? If you don’t, you will. Let’s go.” The dainty delinquent was quick to grab hold of Santi’s wrist to drag him after her once again.

Santiago Castelle
 
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Santiago was granted little grace to savor his victory.

The magick that filled him, the spell he wrought upon the frog yet rung clear in his mind: whorls of air formed with the words for heat and cold, transcribed to that of acceleration. Settled under the frog, it considered only the possibility of one angular motion. Forward, in whatever direction Blue Beauty faced the moment he released his concentration. He relied on the backdraft that arced between his magick and the frog to provide the catalyst for that leap.

A reckless gambit. The calculations required, factoring in vector and resistance and the countless minutia that dulled his wits at the very thought, promised to give any serious academic conniptions. If given to glyphs, or had he sufficient time to prepare buffering wards and set the ground to his choosing, he may have chosen a different set of spells.

Thus did he find himself lost in contemplation, nodding absently with that ever so singular grin at his companion's approach. He blinked, retreating to a carefully sculpted neutrality. Kneeled down to offer a thankful scratch to the familiar. Played deaf at the still erupting chorus of boyish shouts that yet crooned in victory's wake.

"Well," he said, brushing from that hasty crouch, "I can't say I'm familiar with such cuisine. But"—and he brightened—"as renumeration is at your purse's discretion, I am sure it will be thoroughly enjoyed."


Shiloh Albright
 
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