Private Tales A Breath of Fresh Air

[Zephyr]

Hours before

A voice awoke him from a midday daydream about looking at the world from the perspective of a hawk. Coming back to reality, he realized he was in a chair and being stared down by a familiar face: Proctor Ellis, one of his first mentors in this hellhole of a facility. "Congratulations, Initiate Zephyr. I've been told you're scheduled for a mission, finally. Tell me, how has training been going to spark such a change?" The boy grinned, the familiar disinterest in the Proctor’s tone relaxing him somehow.

“I don’t quite know. I’ve been getting better at controlling my power, but that’s about it.” he returned with a yawn, speaking casually and without much respect for his “superior”. Ellis, though a flash of dark fury alighted his eyes, saw through his imitation of boredom and managed to find the genuine interest beneath.

He was not going to dally, and that meant ignoring a fight that would have been pointless. Zephyr knew not to disrespect him, even as early as that day at eight. See, he had ended up a tooth lighter and facedown on the floor, so amongst them two, the upkeep of social credit truly didn’t matter. “Right, then. I’ve been told to notify you that this is yet again a test, as all things here are. You and a fellow Initiate leave at night and…”

Ellis then looked at the paper and smirked, chuckling under his breath. “Will go check on Terren Outpost because actual dreadlords have more important things to do than grunt work.” he finished, giving a tiny, mocking bow. “Sure. Now then, who exactly is my partner in this so-called grunt work?” Zephyr asked, stretching his arms.

A stern look crossed the face of the proctor and he gestured no. “You have no right to call it that, as you have shown so little promise thus far that it’s currently your only choice. As for your partner, that’s something else. They're getting briefed elsewhere, just because this mission shouldn't be dangerous enough to require true strategy.”

The proctor shrugged and moved to leave the room, only looking back to finish the sentence: “He’s powerful, more so than you. I’m sure you two will get on like peas in a pod. ” That was it, and the boy was left to himself, the room utterly silent. He left after a few more seconds of thought, exiting the office and going back to his room to pack. From what he remembered about geography, Terren was at least twelve away from the academy by horse.

---

Midnight

Zephyr waited just inside the main entrance to the Institute, bag packed and bow strapped to it, quiver at his side. However much he hated to admit it, he was looking to prove his power and gain respect. "Well, I guess I'll just be cordial to my babysitter and everything'll be fine." he said aloud, leaning against the wall and tearing into a piece of jerky. A smile found itself growing on his visage as more and more of his perfect scenario began to play out in his head. Oh, yes, this would be fun.

Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

"A routine check-in on some backwater outpost? Are you serious? This is Guard trainee work," King huffed. This sort of thing was so far beneath him he thought he might get vertigo. "Kress, next you'll be telling me I'm getting sent alongside some washout los--initiate as well."

The D'Amour student had to mind his language far more than he usually did when he was in higher company, and no company was higher in his eyes than his very own elder sister, Proctor Evangeline. Unfortunately, big sis Eva's first response was to give King a long, knowing look.

"A struggling peer, Fabien. You might be ahead in all of your studies, but that only means you're best positioned to aid those who have fallen behind."

King rolled his eyes. That name coming out of anyone else's mouth would've irked him.
"Yes, yes, I'm so privileged to do so. I'll try my best not to fall asleep along the way."

"You are privileged to do this, little brother. In aiding him, you aid all of Vel Anir. By uplifting the weak, the whole is made stronger," she reminded him before knocking her cane lightly against his head. Where had the days gone when the strong simply trampled the weak underfoot? Surely that was an easier way to weed out Vel Anir's weakness...

King sighed.
"Fine...I'll do my best, sister."

Evangeline smiled back.
"Thank you, Fabien."

---

King rounded a corner and exited the halls and breached the cool night air. He still wasn't entirely sure why the literal middle of the night was the ideal time to begin this little checkup, but the proctors had invented far more asinine missions in the past and he doubted this would be the last or worst thing they'd come up with.

There was already another initiate waiting outside who must've been the washout loser in question. Talking to himself, no less. Well, King did love to interrupt...
"Accurate description of my role here," he butted in, marching past the boy. "Wishful thinking on the rest. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

 

[Zephyr]

Upon quitting his hopeful pep talk, Zephyr was alerted to footsteps just around the corner. Ah, the mysterious second participant in their check-up. As soon as he spied a unique head of shockingly white hair, he figured out who they were. There were not many initiates that had a feature so distinct, and none so quietly considered a condescending jackass as Fabien was. Well, what else would you call someone who gave THEMSELVES a nickname like King? That title kinda needed to be earned.

However, the gossip mill was usually unreliable, so Zephyr chose instead to give his new acquaintance (after a fashion) the benefit of the doubt. "Oh, so you're my chaperone? Fabien, was it? No, you go by something like Prince or Vizier or something like that. I'm Initiate Zephyr." he said, fully aware of the boy's actual moniker. As a test he added onto this wording a grin that, though intended in good humor, could be hypothetically offensive to those with low tolerance for such things.

"Shall we get going, then?" he asked, expression now significantly less positive as he seemed to remember what exactly it was they were here for. A couple paces away was a stable boy leading their horses who looked at once scared but also liable to rip them to shreds, so Z tried to be as respectful and apologetic as possible when speaking to him. It was the duty of proctors to break their charges, yes, but his heart went out to those caught in the collateral. "Thanks. This won't happen again!" he said, half-lying.

It would happen again, likely, but maybe a different person would have to take the time out of their day, hopefully. Hopping on his majestic steed, he would turn to make sure Fabien was doing the same. "Oh yeah! So, do you know why you got this assignment?" he asked genuinely, wanting to know if it was anything more than a case of a proctor indulging in the habit of mixing water and (potentially) oil. No, it was always that, wasn't it? Forcing the "weak work-in progress" and the top of the class to do grunt work at such an hour was evidently a test of patience.

Well, whatever, He had said his piece. All that was left was to wait for a response.

Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

King's jaw set forward at the other initiate's jest. Quite the display of insolence for someone in what was, for all intents and purposes, a remedial course. Not to mention he clearly knew who he was talking to...a rather stupid choice to make as a first impression. King neither looked back nor broke his stride.

"You'll call me 'King' or 'D'Amour' and nothing else. Use my given name again and the Proctors will never find your body. Understood?" he stated plainly and simply. The other boy was welcome to try his luck if he wished. King almost hoped for it. What he'd said was hardly a threat with no intent, after all.

The D'Amour initiate snatched up his horse's reins from the stable boy without thanks and proceeded to mount up. He glanced lazily over to Zephyr and--oh, good, he wasn't so hopeless that he couldn't at least mount a horse.
"Because my sister believes she has a sense of humor, I assume. That or she thinks that there's something we both stand to gain by sharing this illustrious chore."

 

[Zephyr]

“I will simply refer to you as D’Amour. Seems easier.” He had learned what he had tried to find out, so there was no real point in extending the conflict. Fabien was a big ol’ verifiably arrogant snob, but a powerful one, and if a proctor was behind his participation it seemed like a good idea to make a nice impression.

He highly doubted Fabien would take the time out of his all-important day to follow through on any made threats, but that was none of Zephyr’s business. The boy had given him two options and Zephyr was far from liking Fabien enough to address him as King, so he would simply have to live with D’Amour.

Actually, perhaps due to his laid-back nature, Zephyr was rather impressed with Fabien’s sort of denial of reality levels of self-absorption and confidence. He wore it like a badge of honor and it almost made Z jealous. There was nothing he could hold on to like that within himself, which the boy found was at once a good and maybe bad thing.

The D'Amour initiate snatched up his horse's reins from the stable boy without thanks and proceeded to mount up. He glanced lazily over to Zephyr and--oh, good, he wasn't so hopeless that he couldn't at least mount a horse.
"Because my sister believes she has a sense of humor, I assume. That or she thinks that there's something we both stand to gain by sharing this illustrious chore."

At Fabien’s rough snatching of the reins, Zephyr sighed and fished out a couple of coins. “Pardon him. Nobility tends to go to one’s head.” He explained with a grin and a shrug, passing one or two silvers to the rapidly departing stablehand. “Fine. I’ll use this to get someone else next time you TAKE A MISSION AT MIDNIGHT!” the stablehand exclaimed hysterically, stomping off.

Z trailed his exit with a sympathetic glance before joining Fabien in time to hear the other initiate’s answer. “Well, I get a chance to prove myself and lose out on about a day of classes, which is nice. You, on the other hand, are being forced to build character by accepting that being the top of the class and fed by a silver spoon doesn’t exempt even you from grunt work with the class project.” Something odd about Zephyr was his absolute lack of hostility when speaking these words. The honesty was brutal, but there was no anger or malice behind them, just small irritation.

Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

King rolled his eyes.
"It's an extra syllable, but by all means," he deadpanned.

The D'Amour boy waited impatiently for Zephyr to finish up dealing with the stable hand. Why the other boy would waste any amount of time trying to appease an Academy hireling was beyond him, but Zephyr continued to dig himself a deeper hole by making assumptions.

"I'm not a noble, Washout, but an easy mistake to make, I suppose," King replied, sounding bored. "D'Amours just hold themselves to a higher standard than your ilk. If you think I didn't earn my place at the top, well, it's easy to see why you need a 'babysitter,' as you so aptly put it."

There wasn't a hint of annoyance in his tone. King stated what he had as though he was calling the sky blue or grass green. It was simply matter of fact.