Ash 73rd
A certain token the pair carried had granted them both passage through Daravin lands to an extent. Questions were oft asked, but as soon as the Halamire found that the two traveling mages were indeed of the arcane, they raised no question to the token the first group had offered them. "These woods are so well guarded," remarked Alphonse, looking over her shoulder. "I feel as if I may run afoul of a damned Halamire knight at every turn. Feckers 'er everywhich-where."
"Watch your tone," hushed Vesta, Alphonse's mentor and traveling companion. The woman was feline, and elderly. She had no problem hunching along with a walking stick she'd nabbed in their travels together. "This is a land where anything is possible, including remote spying--the Window, as you know, from Transposition. I think one in every ten men and women within this country are mages? The country is quite populous, too. Easy to get lost in their meanderings."
"Ahk, really!?" blurted out Alphonse. "Well, why Daravin anyway?" asked Alphonse, her voice lowering.
"I intend to find someone to finance your enrollment at Nardothis," said Vesta. "A formal education would be what your reputation needs. And your discipline. That personality of yours... it is like a rusted, broken sword. They'll forge you into proper metal."
"Pah," grumped Alphonse. "If the Ebon Knights couldn't hammer down my edges, I'm doubtful some prissy school for soft boys is going to get the job done."
"Alphonse," growled Vesta. "I've hiked your ass across two countries and tutored you in the arcane arts, with you fighting me at every turn. I've made you my Kin. The least you could do for me is go to school. I thought it's what you wanted, orphan girl, to be treated like a parent would treat her daughter?"
The tall, dark-furred rather groaned. She latched two big mitts to her horns and tugged in frustration. "You don't get me at all, old crone!" Her hands slipped down to her cheeks. "I don't care a damn about that stuff. I don't need to be cooped up in some 'in-ster-too-shun' for years on end gettin' treated like shit by brats younger'n me." Alphonse finished her statement with a grunt of disapproval.
"Insolent child..." shuddered Vesta with broiling rage. The glare the woman shot with those leering, deadly eyes chilled Alphonse to the bone. "You will try it, then. If you don't like it, I release you as my apprentice, and our Kinship is over."
"Wait, y-you can renounce Kinship?" asked Alphonse with a crack in her voice. She valued their relationship, and she didn't want it to end over something as silly as this.
"It isn't in writing," replied Vesta. "I'll do so if you disappoint me, Alphonse. There is nothing saying I own you like a slave, but you owe it to me to serve my ambitions for your sake. I wish for you to be the mage I never was, and you must respect this." The elderly woman stopped and thwacked Alphonse on her hip with the wooden walking stick, prompting an 'ow' in response from the younger Rathor.
But Alphonse couldn't manifest a comeback. She only uttered a low, obstinate growl. Vesta had her there. She couldn't detach from the woman's whims. "I'll try," she uttered in that low, untenable voice. "I'll hate it, but I'll try."
"That's a good girl," Vesta chided. "And you better give it a few days," said the crone. "Do not play games with me, lass."
"Humph," grunted Alphonse. "Wouldn't dream of it, you rotten old flea bag."
"Why don't you keep practicing your Animus, dear? Being able to fly, to turn into a raven; it will give you something to do during your free time while you are within the campus grounds." Vesta made a mock gesture with one hand, as if flapping in a mock imitation of a wing. "It may help you cool your head. I'd be remiss if your attitude got you expelled from the place. Embarrassing me would not be in your interests, daughter."
"I can't stomach your shyke, lady," Alphonse hissed. "Maybe I should go just to get away from your crotchety arse."
"Likewise, my bitchy protege," came a swift reply. Vesta cackled: the pair enjoyed their candor, even if at times the feelings were genuine.
Wresting her attention away, Alphonse shrugged. "Guess I might as well try somethin' full body, right? I done arms." She looked to Vesta for permission, but the old lady shrugged.
"If you think you're ready, who am I to stop you?" said Vesta.
"I don't get you," growled Alphonse. "One moment, you're givin' me advice, and the next you're being a bitch!"
"Anybody would end up being a bitch with a foul-mouthed orphan at their heels for weeks on end," said Vesta. "Perhaps I would be nicer to you, if you were nicer to me. Gutterspeak is not my usual language, sewer rat."
Vesta had a point. Alphonse was loud, bitchy, and constantly complaining, and she didn't like it when somebody told her so. Still, she was this way with Vesta more than anyone else. "Whatever," she growled in defeat. "Not like I'm feckin... callin' you out on personal shit. You always go for the throat."
"As anyone should," said Vesta. "You insult me without substance, then your insult is weak. You find what I care about, then you begin to hold the very strength I hold over you. Silly juvenile cat."
"Right," said Alphonse. "So I'm just gonna... work on my Animus, then." Ignoring Vesta for the moment, she shut her eyes and breathed in, exhaling a soft breath outward to help clear her mind. Some fuss towards Vesta still remained, but the old cat didn't keep clawing at her with words, so she worked in silence as they walked.
Mind turning inward, Alphonse felt around for her Template of ermine, the feeling of its being soon made apparent to her seeking mind. Drawing it inward, she felt around through the concept of the ermine, everything that it was surging through her mind like a bounding, leaping gnat. Thinking to its fur, she thought about just the color, mentally massaging the snow white fur over her own. Over the coming minutes, it spread across her chest, and she drew it outward, mentally tugging on the sensation pooling over her form. She shut her eyes as it crawled up her neck, fur bristling as it overcame her face.
As the stuff pooled down her legs and left behind a sea of white, Alphonse felt hot and tingly. "Whoa, I think I'm kinda pushing it. It feels kinda numb," she said with a rasp. "Hchk!" She coughed through her teeth, feeling the taste of iron in her saliva. From head to toe, her fur was now snow white, though the texture was not quite like that of the ermine, which had a much softer, thicker hide for its size. Her fur was still coarse and rough, like the Rakura her body was naturally derived from.
Marveling over the white color, she stopped near a muddy puddle of water and peered down into the liquid mirror, a familiar yet alien face staring back at her. The changes sent a pit down her stomach, but she appreciated that she'd made it this far. Animus was taking her a long time to master, but Vesta was a good teacher, and Alphonse a... decently capable student.
"What do you think?" called Vesta up ahead. She took a step over the puddle and trudged up to meet the old woman, who looked her over. "You look like you blend in better with the terrain. The white will help you in a blizzard," she said. "Camouflage should never be overlooked."
Alphonse frowned. "That's all?"
"That is all," said Vesta. "I'm still cross with you."
"Huh, I didn't think anything stuck." She looked side to side, pressing her fingers together by her waist. "Erm, I'm sorry Vesta. I know you're just tryin'a teach me and I ain't the easiest, but I'm tryin'." Alphonse felt horrible. To her, it was always a game between wills. A battle she reveled in. She had no idea Vesta didn't feel the same way. The woman usually dished out more than she took.
"Thank you," said Vesta simply. There was a hesitation in her voice, a long silence between them. She looked to Alphonse. "You would do best to hold your tongue. I do not lead by good example in that regard, but there are mages in this world far better than I whom you would benefit from making an ally of. They would not appreciate your lack of candor, especially here in Daravin, where candor and politicking at a low level even between students is a common trifle you must learn to survive."
Alphonse' tail lashed with delight. She was glad Vesta didn't hate her guts. "I'll try, but I make no guarantees. I'm not feelin' this Nardothis crap yet... I think I need more time. Someday," she told Vesta.
"Someday," repeated Vesta in doubt. "Not everybody learns well from a formal setting, but we've never tried."
"Aye," said Alphonse. "I'll give it a try, at the very least..."
