Sequel of sorts to Problem Child

The cy’Lightning students were unusually quiet for a Saturday morning. They were getting ready for their weekly cy’ree meeting, which was normally somewhere halfway between a class and hanging out with friends. Today, however, they were anticipating it with a small amount of dread, cleaning up from the latest of breakfasters and talking in tense undertones.

“It’s not our fault.”

“Or responsibility, you know.”

“Will he be angry? What’s he like, angry?”

The nervous question was met with an uncomfortable silence, broken only when Leofric – Professor Inazuma, more formally – walked in the front door.

“Good morning,” he said brightly before taking in the atmosphere. He paused and looked around. “… Ah. Why don’t we sit down and get started?”

Wordlessly, they gathered their cushions and arranged themselves in a semicircle across from Leofric, who settled crosslegged on the floor.

After allowing a few seconds to pass in silence, he looked at the cy’ree captain and asked the question they were all waiting for him to ask. “Where is Desta?”

George cleared his throat – the only outward sign of any nerves. “She’s still in bed, sensei. Alona tried to convince her to get up, but it… didn’t work.”

Leofric looked questioningly at Alona.

“She, um.” Alona paused, looking conflicted before spitting out all the words in a rush. “She said she didn’t care and get out of her face before she made me regret it. Sir. Sensei.”

“Ahhh.” Leofric nodded. “Well then, let’s just go on without her. As I’m sure you remember, your task was to find and assist one person in need of help every day this week. How many of you managed to do something every day?”

About two-thirds of the arranged students raised their hand.

“And some days, but not every one?”

The rest of the students raised their hands.

“Excellent!” Leofric grinned encouragingly at his Students and, practically in unison, they all relaxed as they realized he was not going to be angry. (At least, not at them.) “Who wants to go first?”

Three students raised their hands and he nodded to one of them. “Go ahead, Alona.”

Twenty minutes later, the laughing conversation of cy’Lightning was interrupted by the sleep-dishevelled appearance of the final cy’ree member. Desta wandered into the living room, yawning, and Meryl stuttered and trailed off.

“Come on, Mer, don’t leave us in suspense.” Leofric leaned forward, grinning – and completely ignoring Desta. The rest of his Students looked at each other before she hesitantly resumed her story.

Desta, meanwhile, noisily made herself some toast and munched on it, standing conspicuously on the edge of the group. “Having fun, kids?”

As no one responded or seemed to be taking any further notice of her at all, she frowned, turned and stomped out the door.

The meeting wrapped up a half-hour later, with the cy’ree given their new task for the week (catch or hunt animals for the cooking club to use) and Leofric stood up to go.

“One last thing,” he said casually. “When Desta comes back, send someone down to the dojo to let me know.

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Special Visitor

The Valkyrie is in the city.

The rumor spread through the school like wildfire, some with a hint of trepidation, others with excitement. And all of them watched Professor Inazuma teaching his classes as normal, wondering if he heard the whispers. The Valkyrie is coming.
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Adding Injury to Insult

Prompt: add insult to injury

“Why are you always so pissed off?”

“Ha ha funny.”

“No. Dammit, Dez.” Jake frowned. “I’m serious.”

Desdemona stared at Jake like he’d grown a second head or something. Continue reading

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Happy Birthday

Prompt: piece of cake

Claude was abruptly pulled out of his book by the sound of a plate sliding across a wooden surface. He looked up, blinking in a half-daze as he mentally reoriented himself into reality, and stared at the coffee table in front of him.

“What’s that?” It was a stupid question, and not the one he meant, but he was still half in the world of his book.
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Problem Child

“She is your Student.”

“I know.” Leofric frowned – not at Dairine, though the fact that he was speaking with her meant it was in her direction anyway. Continue reading

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Among The Trees

Vidrou, sa’Tree-Hugger – more commonly known as Vid or Viddie – hummed quietly as he inspected his orchard. It was summer, which meant the seasons for peaches, plums and nectarines. Never mind that their home in ex-Michigan was nowhere near the right climate. He might not be able to change the weather, but he could change the trees. Combined with his diligent and affectionate caretaking, this meant come midsummer, there were fresh peaches.

Aside from tending to the trees, gathering fruit for the next few days was Vid’s main purpose in being out at the orchard this sunny afternoon. The basket slung over his shoulder was already half full, bearing a mix of red plums and yellow peaches.

“Papa, papa, look!” Seven-year-old Tilden raced across the grass, ignorant of the scrapes and dirt on his shins and elbows. He bounced to a stop in front of his father, proudly displaying a nectarine. “I picked it myself, just like you showed me.”
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Unusual Methods

Written for the Thimbleful Thursday prompt: throw down the gauntlet. I squeaked in at 439 words!

Desdemona barely restrained herself from punching Jake into the wall. “What the hell–”

“Desdemona cy’Fridmar,” he interrupted, waving the glove he’d just smacked her with in her face, “I challenge you to a duel.”
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For Thimbleful Tuesday, coming in at 211 words.

- – - – -

Mix one measure of oil with two measures of water.

Nathan stared at his notes, resisting the urge to bang his head on the table. He was sure of the translation, it was simple enough Latin. Unfortunately, it was proving somewhat less than simple to do.

He’d tried the obvious solution, first. Take the oil, take the water, splash in some alcohol, mix it thoroughly, pour it over the powdered lambskin on the specified arcane circle and bam. The da… stupid thing had burst into flames; he barely managed to save the book. His notes were quickly converted to ash, forcing him to spend the next few hours retranslating the entire segment.

Next, he’d tried just stirring it vigorously with a whisk and pouring it out before the two had separated again. Thankfully it didn’t catch on fire that time, but it didn’t do anything much at all. He spent the next few hours cleaning up the oily puddle on his worktable.

Now, Nathan was back to staring at his notes and contemplating mixing the notoriously unmixable. He sighed, slumping down in his chair. How am I supposed to do this, he thought, staring out the window at the snow.

…the snow.

Grabbing his measuring cup, he raced out the door.

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A History of Leo

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