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Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:46 AM

On the eve of their dispatchment, the hall was aflutter with voices. Coming from the last of their lessons, the crowd had filtered in by ones and twos, congregating in small scattered throngs at tables and in corners, until the room was filled to bursting. Qual looked upon it from his place at the far end of the hall; this must have been the whole population of this year's graduates, or nearly so. The sheer number of them surprised him. It was rare for them to converge together like this, and theirs had been an unusually populous year.

There were faces he recognized amongst the crowd, and a few called out to him in greeting, one hand raised with its fingers touched to the place where their horns protruded from the crowns of their heads. He returned the gesture, sometimes with a smile, sometimes without. None of his acquaintances drew close to converse with him, and he made no move to seek them out. From his place at the edge, he could see the ebb and flow of the crowd, and that held his interest better than the conversation.

At length, however, their chatter was brought to a halt by the appearance of one of the elders. The Master of Combats moved with an efficient grace that drew the eye, and the ripples of silence soon spread among the gathered students, bringing their murmurings to a halt. Even from a distance of twenty meters, Qual could feel the chill that radiated from her gaze. However, it was Illadri, the crooked and bent Master of Histories that ascended to the podium. He spoke a few words, but even in the quiet instilled by the Combats master, his voice could not carry the length of the room.
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:47 AM

It didn't matter. Everyone knew that the speech was but a formality, that tonight was a night of celebration. Tomorrow, they would leave the worn stone buildings of the Seminary forever, bound for the world of mortals on their assignments. It was all anyone could think of. They listened to the feeble Master out of respect, but the air was charged nevertheless with a silent impatience, and Qual privately suspected that Illadri's words fell on deaf ears even among those who were close enough to hear him.

The minutes wore on, but eventually they were dismissed, with a warning from the much louder Combats master to be prepared for the morning that would follow. Qual was one of the first to slip out from the hall, and strode quickly to his chambers. The rest were not far behind, but most were headed elsewhere, for there were always revelries to be had the night before the dispatchment.

Qual would join them, but not yet. It was too early in the night for the smaller parties he frequented, and the noise would be too great. In the quiet of his room, he tried in vain to read, but even he was not immune from the thrill of excitement. His eyes slid over the page, roving fast and taking in nothing. He gave up the pretense of study soon enough, putting his book away and settling on the simpler task of caring for his weapons instead.
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:47 AM

Thoughts tumbled through his head unbidden as he worked: what would his assignment be? And who would be his partner, his team? New Emissaries never worked alone, regardless of their history or standing or skill, but it was unlikely for him to be paired with a fellow graduate of the Seminary. It would be an older agent, with more experience, and better loyalty to the service. A few in their year, mostly favored sons from the more influential families, had rosters of likely candidates. A few had previous arrangements made on their behalf by those families, or by kin already within the service. Qual could claim neither; he was the first of his siblings to go, and his family a far enough branch from the main of their house that such favors would not be granted for such a menial thing. But neither was he so impoverished in prospects as to have reason to despair, for he was still a graduate of the Seminary. All the demons here were from respectable families, if not glamorous ones, and Qual himself had been praised for his skills. They would find him valuable enough.

A knock at the door broke him from his thoughts, and he turned to the door with a smile. “Irin. I didn't hear you coming,” he said.

“No one does,” the visitor replied. She moved to sit on the edge of his bed, surveying the room. “You've already packed, I see. I didn't think this room could get any more bare than it was, but evidently I was wrong.”
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:48 AM

Qual laughed a little at that. In all his years at the Seminary, he had never kept many things in his dorm, and it had been a point of contention between Irin and himself for almost the length of their friendship. “And what of you? Are you prepared?” he asked.

“Prepared enough. If I'm too much hung over in the morning for the rest, I wouldn't miss it for having to leave it behind.” Qual regarded her a moment. In the shadows of the room, she seemed almost to disappear, her dark clothes and dark hair blending with the dusky stone of the walls. It wasn't so much a camoflauge of colors as her affinity; Irin could wear much brighter colors and still remain beneath notice if she wished. At one time she had thought it a useless ability, but training had happily proved otherwise.

“Are you excited?” he asked quietly. “To go, that is.” Under the vast arches of the hall, with its throng of eager gossipers, he had felt ill inclined to join in the conversation. But here, in the comfort of his own chamber, the topic came easily--- indeed, almost forcefully, from having denied it so much before.

Irin gave a shrug, unflappable as ever. “It's an occupation, I suppose. My hope is for a competent partner.”
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:49 AM

Qual had avoided it as obstinately as his will would allow, for fear of the disappointment that came with the accumulation of too many hopes. Now, when he could think of it more comfortably, he found that there was too much to consider. Instead, he turned the question to her. “I've no idea. What of you, Irin?”

“Oh, that's easy enough. Someone skilled and clever and not too proud to teach. I'd be much more content if we could trade our partners amongst each other, to tell the truth. From the talk in my corner of the hall, most were more preoccupied with appearances, but I'd take a crafty old veteran over a vapid charmer any day.” Irin's preference was no surprise to Qual, for they had first become friends through the similarity of their situations, and the first children of families in want of a connection were necessarily expected to make a name for themselves.

Qual smiled and said airily, “If that is the case, then I'll hope for someone skilled and beautiful. Why choose when you could have both?”
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:50 AM

The morning bell brought the dormitories to a reluctant waking. Many of the graduates were nursing hangovers, or injuries from foolish acts committed the night before. Qual was blessed in comparison, suffering no more than the weariness of a want of more sleep. All the same, his limbs felt heavy as he rose from his bed, and he was glad that he had had the forethought to pack in advance.

He met Irin at the courtyard where they were supposed to gather, and touched the base of his horns in greeting. They were among the first to arrive, and stood together looking at the rest as they limped unhappily in.

When the last of the stragglers had been dragged in by the scruffs of their necks by the unsympathetic Masters, the herald from the Ministry addressed them. Their assignments would be handed out individually, and their first meetings with their partners arranged at their own discretion, on their own time. They would report to their superiors thereafter, but this was the last time that they would all be together like this.

It was nothing they hadn't already known, and at any rate no one was in a fit state for proper farewells. Anything that needed to be said had been spoken the night before, sometimes helped along by wine and the celebratory atmosphere. The new Emissaries-to-be received their envelopes in sullen silence, without even the jostling curiosity that usually accompanied such things. Qual took his in turn, and rubbed a thumb over the wax seal that held it closed at the front. After a moment's hesitation, he broke it, and peered at the contents within: his badge, a certificate from the Seminary, and a small scrap of paper bearing a hastily-scrawled address. He searched the envelope once more, but in vain; there was nothing else.
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:50 AM

It took him some time to find the place specified by the address he had been given. He had started his search too close to the Seminary, and stayed too close to the more pristine districts. Wandering outside his range of comfort, he felt a stranger, his fine clothes sorely conspicuous against the seedy bustling backdrop of the middle castes. With each descent down the great Steps of the city, he found further doubt rising in him about the nature of his partner. For what purpose could they have chosen such a place to meet?

The building, when he finally found it, was a small eatery tucked in between two larger, more imposing buildings. It was old, its signs worn, but its interior was clean and neater than he had expected. There were a few demons at their meals within, many of them dining alone. Some looked up expectantly at his entrance, but most turned away. He scanned their faces--- one of them must have been expecting him, surely? Then their eyes met, and he knew.

She was a young woman, slightly older than himself, with a face that was at once playful and sultry. Her eyes were a vivid green, creased at the edges in a smile, and auburn hair tumbled in soft waves down her shoulders. She motioned for him to sit, and he did so, moving stiffly.
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Re: Red as Roses [Self]

Postby crow » 11/04/2014 12:50 AM

“So, you're the one they sent me,” she said, giving him an appraising look. “Charming.” There was nothing in her expression to suggest sarcasm, but all the same, Qual did not feel any more at ease. Seated, he could not bow, and settled for a deep nod instead.

“I am Qual Ethanon, first to my line,” he said. “Please, may I have your name?”

Something like disappointment flickered over her face, and Qual flushed, aware that he had made some misstep but uncertain as to what it was. There was a pause, in which Qual wondered uncomfortably whether he had given offense, before she replied.

“Risse,” she said. No surname, no claim to a family or a lineage or even a title to adorn it. He looked up at her, astonished, but she returned his gaze calmly, as if daring him to make some comment. He held his silence, and diverted his eyes to the ground.

“It is a pleasure, Risse,” he said, and felt all the more keenly the want of a family name, for there was no other way to address her. Such familiar terms on their first acquaintance, and with their difference in rank besides, smacked to him of insolence. “I... I look forward to serving under your mentorship.”
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