Shadows of History 2, Lessons
Dec. 6th, 2005 02:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessAnother flash back to the 17th century when Kyernath first became a threat.
I have Camaalis in the back of my head looking on and tutting in disapproval. Like they handled things any better!
Judge not lest ye be judged, Camaalis!
Camaalis: We are judged. We judge ourselves to be sublime.
*sigh*
Aidan watched the youth, smiling as he came closer to the furiously boiling beehives. “Stand back a little, lad. Those bees are agitated and will not suffer you getting any closer.”
The young man paused, a mere few feet from the furious hives. “Why are they so angry?”
“Fiona has added a potion to the flowers on which they feast. It will mean the wax they make will be special, but it does give the bees a vile temper.” Aidan explained, carefully keeping his distance.
“Are they more dangerous?” the boy asked, edging closer. The bees began to buzz dangerously close to him.
“No more so than most bees, which is more than dangerous enough.” Aidan waved the boy back. A wind rose, far stronger than the gentle breezes that cut the summer heat. The wind pushed back against the advancing swarm, forcing them away from the youth.
The young man turned and grinned at Aidan. “I can protect myself from a few bees.” He laughed, for a second power played around one of his hands, a black corona in the bright sunlight.
Aidan strode to one of the intricately carved wooden benches that dotted the lawn and sat down pensively. He stared across the grass to where two unicorn grazed peacefully. After a moment he felt the youth sit down next to him.
“I know you can vanquish the dreadful threat of the bees. But your methods would lead to killing them. Then we would have no honey and Fiona would not have her candles.” Aidan said, mildly. “You need to understand the duty that all men have, but above all the duty magic users must observe.”
Aidan let the silence stretch and considered the unicorns as they ate their fill. Eventually the lad broke the silence. “What duty?”
Aidan leaned back and closed his eyes, apparently enjoying the sun. “All men have a duty to consider the consequences of their actions. It is an inescapable guarantee that everything you do will lead to three affects you neither intended nor desired. It is important we try to consider these things.”
A soft breeze gently took the edge off the heat as he continued. “Magicians like ourselves have the greatest duties, for we can caused greater and far more terrible effects. I could make every day as beautiful and as perfect as today, our estates a perfect paradise of Summer – and our friends the Unicorns would starve because grass cannot grow without rain. I could call rain in dry times, but who am I denying of that rainfall? A thousand consequences to everything we do.”
He turned his head and opened one eye to look at his nervously shifting companion. “Death is the ultimate action and has the ultimate consequences – and they are the hardest to mend. It must never be embraced casually, not unless dire necessity drives you. This is something you, above all, must remember.”
The youth jerked from his nervous fiddling with his robes to gape at Aidan. “I? Why?”
Aidan opened his other eye and regarded the youth seriously, almost severely, though the expression sat poorly on his kindly face. “You are a Mage, lad. And a Sorcerer. A Mage is not just a Magician, a Mage is a part of his powers. And his powers effect who he is and what he does – and what he thinks and feels. White Mages tend to the self-righteous, Oracles tend to be distant and detached, Mystic Voices tend to be loud and flamboyant. Such is the way of such magic.” Aidan put a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder before continuing. “You are a Sorcerer, the magic of ending, death and loss. As all Mages are casual about their magic, so too are you. As all Mages allow their magic to effect their moods, so too do you. Death will always come easily to you, death will always seem like the most obvious answer, you must remember that obvious is not always best and that your instincts are not the best guide.”
The boy sat back, eyes unfocused in thought. Aidan sighed, pushing down the wish that it could have been a less perfect day for such gloomy revelations.
“Come,” he patted the lad’s shoulder in a fatherly way. “You have the skills to surpass your instincts, Mages are not slaves to their magical influences. It does not do to become melancholy about them.” He smiled, sudden and bright. “Not when we could be dwelling on the sublime nature of Rose’s cooking.” He pulled the youth behind him, resolutely heading to the kitchens. Before long the lad’s dour expression had lightened.
I have Camaalis in the back of my head looking on and tutting in disapproval. Like they handled things any better!
Judge not lest ye be judged, Camaalis!
Camaalis: We are judged. We judge ourselves to be sublime.
*sigh*
Aidan watched the youth, smiling as he came closer to the furiously boiling beehives. “Stand back a little, lad. Those bees are agitated and will not suffer you getting any closer.”
The young man paused, a mere few feet from the furious hives. “Why are they so angry?”
“Fiona has added a potion to the flowers on which they feast. It will mean the wax they make will be special, but it does give the bees a vile temper.” Aidan explained, carefully keeping his distance.
“Are they more dangerous?” the boy asked, edging closer. The bees began to buzz dangerously close to him.
“No more so than most bees, which is more than dangerous enough.” Aidan waved the boy back. A wind rose, far stronger than the gentle breezes that cut the summer heat. The wind pushed back against the advancing swarm, forcing them away from the youth.
The young man turned and grinned at Aidan. “I can protect myself from a few bees.” He laughed, for a second power played around one of his hands, a black corona in the bright sunlight.
Aidan strode to one of the intricately carved wooden benches that dotted the lawn and sat down pensively. He stared across the grass to where two unicorn grazed peacefully. After a moment he felt the youth sit down next to him.
“I know you can vanquish the dreadful threat of the bees. But your methods would lead to killing them. Then we would have no honey and Fiona would not have her candles.” Aidan said, mildly. “You need to understand the duty that all men have, but above all the duty magic users must observe.”
Aidan let the silence stretch and considered the unicorns as they ate their fill. Eventually the lad broke the silence. “What duty?”
Aidan leaned back and closed his eyes, apparently enjoying the sun. “All men have a duty to consider the consequences of their actions. It is an inescapable guarantee that everything you do will lead to three affects you neither intended nor desired. It is important we try to consider these things.”
A soft breeze gently took the edge off the heat as he continued. “Magicians like ourselves have the greatest duties, for we can caused greater and far more terrible effects. I could make every day as beautiful and as perfect as today, our estates a perfect paradise of Summer – and our friends the Unicorns would starve because grass cannot grow without rain. I could call rain in dry times, but who am I denying of that rainfall? A thousand consequences to everything we do.”
He turned his head and opened one eye to look at his nervously shifting companion. “Death is the ultimate action and has the ultimate consequences – and they are the hardest to mend. It must never be embraced casually, not unless dire necessity drives you. This is something you, above all, must remember.”
The youth jerked from his nervous fiddling with his robes to gape at Aidan. “I? Why?”
Aidan opened his other eye and regarded the youth seriously, almost severely, though the expression sat poorly on his kindly face. “You are a Mage, lad. And a Sorcerer. A Mage is not just a Magician, a Mage is a part of his powers. And his powers effect who he is and what he does – and what he thinks and feels. White Mages tend to the self-righteous, Oracles tend to be distant and detached, Mystic Voices tend to be loud and flamboyant. Such is the way of such magic.” Aidan put a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder before continuing. “You are a Sorcerer, the magic of ending, death and loss. As all Mages are casual about their magic, so too are you. As all Mages allow their magic to effect their moods, so too do you. Death will always come easily to you, death will always seem like the most obvious answer, you must remember that obvious is not always best and that your instincts are not the best guide.”
The boy sat back, eyes unfocused in thought. Aidan sighed, pushing down the wish that it could have been a less perfect day for such gloomy revelations.
“Come,” he patted the lad’s shoulder in a fatherly way. “You have the skills to surpass your instincts, Mages are not slaves to their magical influences. It does not do to become melancholy about them.” He smiled, sudden and bright. “Not when we could be dwelling on the sublime nature of Rose’s cooking.” He pulled the youth behind him, resolutely heading to the kitchens. Before long the lad’s dour expression had lightened.