Private Tales Afternoon Practice

[Alistair Wren]

Alistair sat on the lawn of the college grounds, Professor Sparhawk's spellbook by his side. Scratching his head, he picked at the grass as he tried to wrap his head around the pyromantic runes, all the while formulating a way to counteract the spells they described with hydromancy. His dorm-mate and closest friend, Cosmin, stood a few feet away and tried his hand at practicing some of the spells in Sparhawk's tome. He wasn't doing especially well, as Cosmin had never been much of a practitioner. Running his tongue along his teeth, Alistair craned his head to the side as he read the runes, then looked up to see Cosmin trying to conjure a flame.

Alistair smirked, "your practicing is shit."

Stifling a bout of laughter, he pulled himself to his feet and grabbed the spellbook, reading it as he walked over to Cosmin. He brushed grass off his robes and scratched his backside, screwing up his features as he read the spellbook.

There was a particular spell he wanted to try, flames that took the form of a spear, but he wasn't sure if Cosmin particularly wanted to try it out with him. He was more into divination, after all. Alistair hadn't yet confided in Tristan, his other friend, about how he had witnessed Maho's death, but he had told Cosmin, who has supported him in his own way. Looking down at the page, Alistair felt a weight tug at his heart and he sighed, his brow creased in regret. The tiny flame hovering above Cosmin's hand sent him into a sudden panic, sweat gathering on the back of his neck. He pulled his neck around and stared at the flame, withdrawing an apprehensive breath as he recoiled into his capelet.

"Okay, you can put that away now," he said, the fear audible in his tone. Features drawn back, he turned up his top lip as he watched the flame, memories of Sparhawk's death slowly resurfacing in his mind.

Inhaling through his nose, Alistair slumped his shoulders and sighed. He looked away and handed the book to Cosmin, more roughly than he had intended. Looking at the ground, he placed a hand on his hip and tilted his head to the side, scratching his nose in thought. Out of his two friends, he was closer to Lowdust. Tristan was kind and meant well, but his extroverted nature and love of partying made Alistair felt detached from him, and intimidated him slightly. Cosmin was more reserved and sensible, which he had in common with Alistair. The two of them also had a sense of humour that only they understood, so they were much closer than initial impressions suggested. Raising both eyebrows, Alistair pointed to the book.

The sun poured in from the harbor, bathing the sun in it's aging light. It was getting colder as Pas Esvada approached, and soon there would be a light snowfall on Elbion's rooftops. There were a few mages about, either reading or practicing like Cosmin and Alistair, but they were at the other side of the courtyard. For the most part, it was deserted, leaving the two of them in peace.

"That's the spell I want to try out, if you cast it, I'll try counteract it with water," he offered with a shrug, lightly kicking the grass with the toe of his felt boot.

He withdrew, and a pause followed. Hands on his hips, he shifted his eyes warily and turned around to face Cosmin, "but I..." His words trailed off. He wanted to say that he wasn't sure about facing fire yet, but didn't.

"I just hope we don't set fire to the college grounds," he said instead, cheeks dented with dimples as he laughed. He rolled his eyes and shrugged, dismissing his worry with a wave of his hand.

 

[Cosmin Lowdust]

There was a reason Cosmin stuck to archives and book learning; Spellcasting simply wasn't his best field. His body wound through all the somatic components, feet placed a shoulder's width apart and palm upturned before him, yet when he flexed his fingers outward, no flame roared into his grasp. A single plume of smoke spun lazily from his thumb, inspiring Alistair to point out the utter shite-ness of his practicing.

"You could always pull Tristan away from whatever girl he's torturing," Cosmin retorted casually, still focused on the spell at hand. "But, no, you had to drag me out into the sun."

The diviner normally wouldn't be caught outside the library before evening this time of year, but his friend needed support. Even if they weren't too keen on hugging out their issues, the least Cosmin could do was help Alistair practice his hydromancy-- Besides, learning to conjure fire was substantially easier than coddling a grown man even if neither route was particularly effortless. With one last flex of his fingers, a small orb of flame flashed out of the diviner's palm, hovering a few inches above his hand and crackling faintly.

"Tell me how I'm shit again," an overly proud Cosmin queried, turning to his fellow student with the faint lines of a smirk creasing his feature. The cocky expression dropped just as soon as he saw Alistair recoil, though, and he squelched the flame in his grasp the moment it was asked of him. The diviner nearly reached for a card before Maho's spellbook was rammed into his grasp. Something was clearly eating at the young man he'd come to help, but if Alistair wanted to share what was bugging him, he didn't show it.

Cosmin bit his tongue and dropped his gaze to the open page. The spell seemed complicated, to put the truth lightly. Vexing pictographs ran through the motions one must undertake to conjure this 'flaming spear', and none were all that simple. This Sparhawk must have been a gifted pyromancer, too, if he didn't require any verbal means to weave his spell into the proper shape. "This is the one? And you're sure you want me doing it?"

Alistair's confidence was inspiring, but the invocation still felt well beyond Cosmin's limited grasp of evoking the elements to action. But Alistair was asking for help, and who knows? The diviner may just surprise himself. "Alright, one flaming spear, inbound... With prudence, of course." As placid as ever, he went through the motions - One foot behind the other, a wide stance, hands circling one another as he gathered up energy. Cosmin's eyes slipped shut as he brought his hands together. There was a faint flicker, then a spark, as a thick band of flames linked his palms together. He began to pull his arms further apart, stretching the flame as if it was made of elastic and thinning as it grew longer.

As soon as the would-be spear grew to a forearm's length, however, the will of keeping it stable grew to be too much for the young diviner to handle. His hands shook as they pushed against an invisible force, sending tremors all the way to Cosmin's shoulders. Eyelids fluttered a moment and sweat broke out across the young man's brow, and in that moment, he seemed as though he might pass out from the strain.

 

[Alistair Wren]

Alistair laughed as Cosmin attempted to cast the flame, when only a puff of smoke erupted from his palm. Flopping onto his side, he held his hand to his mouth and smirked, smiling widely as his friend retorted with a remark about pulling Tristan away from some poor woman. Pulling himself to his feet, Alistair grabbed Maho's spellbook and walked over to him.

"Oh quit complaining, you could use a little sun," Alistair batted the air with his hand. He knew Cosmin was much better at analyzing the components of spells, but his friend had agreed to help cast to overcome his fear of fire. The thought was there, even if he didn't express it, but Alistair didn't mind. The last trace of the autumn sun seeped between the college spires. After the time he had spent in the desert of Amol-Kalit, Alistair now had a healthy tinge to his cheeks and lips. Cosmin on the other hand, was pasty and looked like he could use a few days in the desert.

The spellbook in his hands, Alistair walked up to Cosmin. The other mage attempted to cast the flame again, only this time, he was successful, and a brilliant, orange flare erupted from his palm. He retorted, a cocky snide to his tone. The sight of the fire caused Alistair to jump back, his eyes wide with panic. He swallowed a gulp and forced a smile, laughing to hide his anxiety, but Cosmin had already noticed.

"Not bad, let's see you shape the flames," he smirked mischievously. The end of his mouth kinked upward into a winsome smile, and he tilted his head forward, pointing to the spell on the page.

Cosmin then asked if Alistair that he wanted him to cast the spell, to which he shrugged and dismissed Cosmin's concern with a wave of his hand. There was a moment of pause. Alistair chuckled lightly and looked at the ground, then brushed hair out of his eyes, "well, I don't really trust anybody else to cast fire around me, you know that."

Indeed, Cosmin was the only person Alistair had confided in about the death of Maho, with the exception of his mentors, such as Ashieron and Professor Ebonheart. Lowdust had a withdrawn manner and didn't make a big deal out of things, which Alistair liked. He didn't want to be smothered, just somebody to cast with while actively confronting his demons. At Alistair's encouragement, Cosmin took a step back and got into position, then prepared to cast the spell.

Nodding, Alistair stepped back, allowing for a good amount of distance between Cosmin and himself. Arm slightly raised above his side, he gathered his will and channeled through his hands, his eyes on the space in front of Cosmin. The other mage shot a hand forward and produced a streak of fire, which he gradually stretched apart. As the flames surged forward, Alistair started to panic, images of the battle resurfacing in his mind. He struggled to focus and as he drew the power forward for his spell, his hands shook.

Eyes on the fire, Alistair called his will to him and thrust a hand forward, ejecting a shield of water from his palm. In the instant the water was cast, his mouth and throat were sucked of their moisture, and he felt light-headed and weary. Blinking, he focused on shaping the water into a shield which Cosmin's spear shot right into. The fire zoomed towards him and jerked back, his heart pounding. He lost his footing, as well as his control of the shield of water.

There was a splash, the hiss of steam and vapor blistering in the air. The spear hit the shield, throwing Alistair back with the impact. The shield dispersed, spraying the grass with water. Steam hovered thick on the space where the spear had landed, leaving a cloud in it's wake.

Alistair panted, his throat totally parched from dehydration. His heart was pounding, the sight of the fire and the feeling of his heat against his hands causing him to shake. Rolling over on the grass, he pulled himself to his feet and brushed himself down, then saw Cosmin struggling from the effects of his own spell.

There was a pause, then Alistair laughed, "well shit, I really need to work on casting without incantations." Resting his forehead in his palm, he chuckled at the mess he had made of his spell and turned up his top lip.

He turned around to face Cosmin, his brow creased in concern, "you alright?"

 

[Cosmin Lowdust]

The dagger of a spear met its counterpart in Alistair's shield, and the elemental anathema of the two constructs left little in their wake save for a splash of water, a lingering heat in the air, and a cloud of steam that coiled and drifted away on a passing breeze. Cosmin's eyes fluttered shut as drain wracked his body, sending tremors down both of his arms as a chill took his bones and set them rattling. He was only dimly aware of Alistair's distress, and his eyelids only fluttered as his fellow student addressed him plainly.

You alright?

"Quite," he responded through a subtly clenched jaw, wrenching his eyes open to the suddenly headache-inducing brightness of the sun. The young man tried to maintain a placid expression as he fixed his friend with an even stare, but there was a slight shake to his lower lip that told volumes of just how much heat the flaming spear had sapped from his body. "But I'm not the one who fell on my ass. Are you feeling steadier now?"