GillianLionsHarpiesAndBadgers[continued from Awakenings: Gillian] Normally, the northernmost end of the Commons was the perfect place to study in peace. Most of the students ate their lunches and chatted in the southern quad, away from the noise and spray of Faiella's Tears—the waterfall that cut through the university. But for Gillian, the cozy alcove in Kolvir's rock face—protected from the constant mist—had become a sanctuary, surrounded by statuary and manicured trees. Here in this forgotten section of the campus, she could escape the hectic day, escape the pressing crowds, but mostly. . . escape Daphne, her roommate. Here she could find the quiet and peace she'd once enjoyed at home. But not today. Instead, this warm afternoon, with mid-terms pressing down on her, Gillian found herself beset by a clan of badgers. Since the conception of thaumaturgy, Will-workers had noted the arcane qualities possessed by badgers, namely their resistance to magic. This made them ideal messengers and familiars for the magically inclined. As such, Faiella University had a plethora of the furry beasts scampering about on behalf of their masters. However, while their masters were in class, clans of badgers would enjoy the Commons and engaging in their favorite pastime: discussing Shadow Earth Pop-culture. No one knew how badgers had learned of or even /heard/ about Shadow Earth, but they had—as a whole—nonetheless developed an unhealthy predilection for discussing pop-culture at length. Unfortunately, their knowledge remained somewhat. . . limited. "Dood!" Badger One chimed. "No, no. . . DOOD!" replied Badger Two. "Yeah, Dood!" agreed Badger's Three and Four. "But that's what I'm saying, Dood," Badger One huffed. And so on and so on. "Oh Great Night, " Gillian muttered as she put down her pen. "Excuse me," she continued in a louder voice, "but I'm trying to study here. Can you DOOD somewhere else, please? I would really appreciate it." "But DOOD!" the badgers replied in unison, horrified by this human's rude dismal of their intellectual discourse. Tears welled and bottom lips trembled—an odd sight on a badger—but eventually the clan sulked off toward the stone path to continue elsewhere. A wry snort stopped them in their path. "And here I would have thought that lower beasts would be more amicable toward their own kind," a familiar voice chimed, accented by cruel laughter from several voices. Lady Daphne—Gillian's accursed roommate—emerged from behind the topiary, followed closely by her gaggle of girlfriends. All belonged to the Princess Florimel sisterhood, but they were more weeds than 'Flowers.' This went doubly so for Daphne and much like her namesake—Daphne laureola—every part of her was poisonous. Gillian flushed and looked down at her schoolwork. Her usually deserted hideaway had now become Crow Station. Midterms were next week and this was utterly the last thing she needed right now. Maybe if she ignored them they would grow bored and go away. The harpies descended on Gillian with cruel intent. Normally, Gillian would have to endure only one or two of Daphne's biting comments before the girl's disinterest drew her elsewhere. Not so today, unfortunately. The six Flowers began to circle her like vultures; a painfully blonde twig even going so far as to grip Gillian's book and briefly look at it. "A peasant can actually read?" the blonde said in disgust. Daphne nodded, "Apparently so. Someone actually educated her. What a waste, don't you think?" Helene, a chilly brunette snorted cynically, "Isn't that a little like teaching a pig how to play chess?" Gillian bowed her head, hiding her face beneath her long, brown hair. The girls found great delight in this, circling again and again, a few of them getting brave enough to pluck at Gillian's uniform or tug her hair. Finally, she had had enough. Gillian leapt to her feet and glared at the girls. "Stop it!" she shouted. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" The girls closest to Gillian jumped back as if scalded, shocked by the outburst. Others were simply amused, while one wraith-thin junior simply watched dispassionately. A thin smile crept across Daphne's condescending mouth. "You really do need a lesson in addressing your peers, Gilly." Only the junior didn't laugh. Instead, she pulled back her sleeves, revealing the transmutation sigils tattooed upon her pale wrists. "Careful ladies," she said, eyes of grey ice cutting into Gillian's skin. "I've heard that this one killed her brother." "No way!" "Really?!" "Is that true, Lyra?" "Oh my!" The Flowers took another step back, as if Gillian suffered from leprosy. "You lie," Gillian growled back, fixing her gaze on Lyra. "You should attend to your mouth. It's spilling over with things you know absolutely nothing about. You suppose. But I know." Her voice cracked on the last word, filled with suppressed emotion. Lyra's smile darkened, her long fingers flexing with anxious energy. She stepped forward, hissing her words so only Gillian could hear them. "And why would they believe the word of a stupid maidservant over a noble woman? You know nothing, girl. Nothing. Not even your place. But trust me. I'll show you." Something in the Begman's eyes verged on madness, balling her fists to white knuckles. Even Daphne—oblivious to subtlety—noticed the nasty shift in this 'playful' teasing. The other girls laughed nervously, while Gillian's roommate touched Lyra's tense shoulder. "Okay, I think she's had enough…" Lyra roughly brushed the hand away, never taking her eyes from Gillian. "You don't belong here," she said. "Isn't it time you went back to washing chamber pots?" Gillian balled her fists. She was angry, very angry, but a more sensible ball of fear churned in her belly. She recalled that Begman alchemists were very efficient duelists, using their transmutation sigils to draw energy from the world around them rather than having to use traditional spell components. [OOC: info from Jason] This made the situation potentially very dangerous. For Gillian. But, dammit, where else could she run? If they'd found her here, they would find her anywhere else on campus. Gillian's eyes narrowed. She would not give in. She had a stubborn streak inherited from her father that was as long as the road from Amber to Begma and she would not give in. They would not see her slinking in front of them like an abused dog. "How very brave of you, a junior threatening a freshman," Gillian commented. "Don't you have something better to do with your magic, like turning milk sour or giving some beautiful woman warts?" Lyra's cheek flushed with rage, "Why you little bitch." A dull glow ignited within her tattoos. "Maybe it's time we put you in a more appropriate form, yes? Better to learn your place in the world." The other Flowers moved behind Lyra, nervously glancing toward the path back to the Commons. Daphne remained rooted to the spot, caught between Lyra's inexplicable anger and the worry of getting caught. The threat of expulsion won out and she made another attempt to mollify her peer. "Lyra," she said, "Leave her be. She isn't worth it. If we get caught. . ." "The consequences could be severe," a chilly voice finished. Gillian immediately recognized it; Professor Advocat. Gillian resisted the urge to look around and verify her supposition, instead choosing to look down at her feet. Even though Lyra was caught clearly in the wrong, she knew enough about how the world worked to realize that didn't necessarily guarantee her own innocence. The fact still remained that Lyra had rank, Gillian did not, and it was conceivable that's all that would matter in the end. She could feel the warmth leeched out of the air as her instructor approached, his boots falling heavily on the grass. The other girls gulped and clustered together like frightened hens, while Lyra kept her ground. But even she wasn't brave enough to meet the Advocat's dark gaze. Spidery fingers settled on Gillian's shoulder with a whispered touch. "Your familiar informed me that you might require my assistance, Ms. Talbot," he said icily. "And while I do prefer that my favored students resolve issues themselves, your companion was most adamant. Is this true or has my time been unduly wasted?" Familiar? Favored student? Gillian was too stunned to reply. With her gaze focused on her feet, Gillian immediately noticed the orange tabby that circled around Professor Advocat's legs. The creature carried itself with a lioness's regality, tail and head held high. Its green eyes met hers and gave a knowing wink. Gillian startled at the wink and drew in a sharp breath. She swallowed visibly, looked up at Professor Advocat with wide eyes, and managed to finally find her tongue. "Sir, Lyra and I were having a disagreement, but I believe it's resolved now." Which was true enough. Gillian didn't think Lyra would dare pursue the situation, so she was probably safe. For today. Tomorrow, though... "I thank you greatly for your time, Professor." "Well, of course, you do, Ms. Talbot" Professor Advocat said mildly. "My time is a precious commodity and your gratitude is expected. Now, if you would kindly return to your studies." "Yessir." She immediately bent to retrieve her books. His shadow-filled eyes settled on Lyra like winter frost. "Ms. Bailey, if you would meet me in my office in ten minutes, I would be most grateful. We have to discuss your recent behavior in the laboratory. I am not pleased with the neglectful use of the facilities I provided you." Lyra opened her mouth and then thought better of it. She cast Gillian a withering glance before skulking off like a beaten dog. Gillian kept her expression carefully neutral. Professor Advocat watched her go and then turned his gaze on the Flowers. "Is it my imagination or are you still intruding upon my consciousness, ladies?" The gaggle of girls scurried off, simply glad to have their souls still intact. "Good day to you, Ms. Talbot," he said. . . and then just wasn't there anymore. Only a faint cloud of brimstone remained behind to mark his passing. For the first time today, Gillian found herself alone. Well, alone except for the self-satisfied feline staring up at her expectantly. Gillian looked back warily. "Are you...sentient?" she asked. "Well look at you using the powers of deduction," the cat replied in a voice like sex and soft jazz. Obviously a girl cat, Gillian thought. It began brushing against her legs and purring with shameless contentment. "You may pick me up and pet me now." "Oh. Right." Gillian dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged. She gingerly picked up her rescuer and placed the cat in her lap. She ran her hand down the tabby's back a few times—something the cats at Lord Feldane's estate always seemed to like—and then settled to scratching a spot behind her ears. The cat purred even louder, her back rising and falling with Gillian's hand. She soon curled up and stretched out her legs, flexing her claws, content to have her ear scratched. "Oh yes. That's the spot, honey. Mrmmm-hrmmm… we're going to get along fammmmously." Gillian smiled, but then her face scrunched up. "I...don't understand this whole familiar thing," Gillian admitted tentatively. "We've not covered it in class yet. Were you serious? I mean, about being my familiar?" "Well, I may have fudged a little in that regard," the feline admitted. "I've been wandering the Wake and looking for a new companion for some time now. You caught my eye. I'd had doubts though. You keep acting like the runt of the litter. . . oooo-mmrmm, yes…there! [OOC: The Wake is another term for the Upper Kingdom; a plane of existence just beneath the perception of humanity, populated with daemons, spirits, and their ilk. Metaphysically, it's very much like Tir-na Nog'th and may indeed be its Reflection throughout Creation (just as Amber leaves an 'imprint' on Shadows).] Gillian's expression turned somewhat indignant. "You want me to keep scratching behind your ear, right?" "Uuumm-mrmmm. . . where was I? Oh yes. The runt. Until today. You stood up to that bitch. Not wise, mind you. She'd have turned you into a beagle. And I hate dogs. But it showed you have potential, kitten. With the right guidance, of course." "Your guidance," Gillian continued wryly, continuing to rub the cat's ears. "So...what's your name? You have me at a disadvantage." "Not until we are bound, kitten," the cat purred, contentedly flexing her claws into Gillian's knee. "Until then, you may call me Cait'sidhe. Or Goddess-Exemplar. The latter is more appropriate." Gillian raised an eyebrow. The orange cat yawned and swished its tail. "Have they taught you blood-magick yet?" She stopped petting the cat and sat up straight. "No. Is that how familiars are bound?" Cait'sidhe sighed as the petting stopped. She hopped over to the bench beside Gillian, "It is one of the methods for binding a true Familiar, yes. Blood is required to connect the Bronze Cord. Our physical connection. Little more than a pin-prick really. After that, we need to connect the Silver and Golden Cords. That's a little more complex." "A triad...of course..." Gillian tilted her head and refocused on Cait'sidhe. "Not to sound ungrateful—for I'm very appreciative of you bringing Professor Advocat!—but what do you get out of this?" "I'm bored, Kitten. That Bast can be a real attention-hog some times, you know?" Cait'sidhe admitted. "It is high time I shared a little of my knowledge with the Quick. And you possess an aura that intrigues me. Something about you screams excitement." Gillian snorted and shook her head. "Yeah, I was pretty surprised myself looking at you, but there it is. So, I think discovering your kismet is worth living in a corporeal form for a few decades. . . "And fish heads. And petting. Oh, oh! And a pillow and some catnip." She licked her chops and gazed at Gillian with big, pleading eyes. The girl grinned and laughed. "How can I refuse? I'll be honored to be your companion. So what do we do next?" "Well, how choosing about a real name for me, kitten?" Cait'sidhe said gleefully. "Something you can call me every day. Our Secret Names will come later, when we do the nasty business of exchanging blood. The feline kneaded Gillian's lap with her claws and then settled in once more. "You can continue petting while you consider this, you realize." "Ginger," Gillian replied confidently. She ran her hand down the cat's back again, and then her expression faltered. "Um...how much blood are we talking about here? And, um, what do you mean by nasty?" "Ginger," the cat repeated with an approving nod. With a sensual purr, she added, "Spicy. Like me." Ginger's tail curled around her, shrugging her back in time with Gillian's hand. "A little less than a pint and a little more than a drop. And 'nasty' as in, I do so hate blood rituals. But power requires sacrifice, Kitten. It is unavoidable." Her ears flicked. "You seem healthy. Do you hike or climb?" "No...not so much. Too busy studying. Have you done this before? Have you had other companions?" "Eeeee…." Ginger hissed, wrinkling up her nose. "This could be tough then. One of the ingredients we'll require is the Unicorn Lily. It grows on the eastern slope of Kolvir and no, we can't buy it. We must fetch it ourselves, Kitten." Gillian looked vaguely troubled. "You mean the steep side that leads down to the sea? The one that Prince Bleys fell from?" "Yes, that one. We need it for the purification rituals," Ginger explained, butting her head against Gillian's hand. "Don't worry, Kitten. I know some secret paths. Besides, you look like you could do with a little exercise." She began cleaning her paw. "As to you question, the answer is, yes. I have had a companion before. Long before even your ancestors were born, I suspect. Back when most of the mighty Princes and Princesses of Amber were still at their mother's teat. Different times those were. Times that did not sit well with my Mistress. "She was Lightning and Rain, that one. A Queen of Storms. The shackles of her gender did not settle well upon her wrists." "Well...good for her. I suppose." Gillian started to ask how she died, but thought better of it. "Was she good at magic?" "Dworkin favored his eldest granddaughter and shared many—if not most—of his secrets with her. In time, I think she could have become his peer. I once saw her tame the savage heart of Undershadow," Ginger explained, a wistfulness entering her voice. "But then that red-haired bitch slipped a dagger into her back." Gillian took a sharp breath. "Princess Fiona killed her?" she whispered. "Fiona got a taste for siblicide at an early age," Ginger sighed. "Not that you'll find that tasty tidbit in any history books. Nor should you discuss it in polite company." Gillian raised a hand to her mouth. "I may have to re-evaluate my opinion of the Princess." The cat's golden eyes met Gillian's with dark seriousness, "Remember this above all else I teach you, Kitten. No matter how much you learn, no matter how powerful you become, there is nothing more dangerous than a jealous rival. "And you, my dear, already have one." Gillian's eyes were wide. "But...I didn't do anything to her. I don't want a rival." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I know...human nature and all...but why me? What is there to be jealous about, really?" "Because you are a commoner," Ginger explained. "And commoners should not rise above their station, let alone gain the favor of two of this university's most influential professors. You have outshone Lyra with your academic achievements. As a true noblewoman—and I use this term only in the literal sense—she cannot accept nor understand this miraculous event. Therefore, she cannot forgive you for this perceived insult to her person. "It is neither right nor fair, but than again what is in this world, Kitten?" Gillian was silent for a long time, absently stroking Ginger as she thought about what she'd heard. "There is a strong social hierarchy in Amber. The Royals attain and keep their rank through power, but once you descend past them the rank seems based on wealth, pedigree, connections, and to a lesser degree level of education. "I expected the University to mirror Amber society in this regard and was—am—surprised to find that rank here seems based less on the things I mentioned earlier and more on merit. I suppose I can understand why some ranked students would find this confusing...and alarming. "But there is a better way. My social class doesn't have wealth or pedigree, but we're just as smart as they are—smarter even, in some cases. If we can just get a good education, then there's the strong possibility we can rise above the shackles they impose upon us and make something of ourselves—sufficiently provide for ourselves and our families and never know cold...or hunger..." She looked down at Ginger. "If I do well here—I mean do really well here—then maybe I can convince the University to set up a scholarship and take a chance on others of my rank." Ginger put her paw on Gillian's heart and smiled, "See? I knew you were a crusader. It's why I picked you. I've always had a thing for helping the under-cat. Even hopeless cases such as yourself. But, you'll be a lioness soon enough. With my wisdom, guidance, and unwavering fashion sense, of course." "Of course." Gillian smiled, amused. "Do we need the Unicorn Lily to establish the Bronze Cord, or can we do that now? I don't mean to rush necessarily, but...well..." She looked at her books meaningfully. "Mid-terms are coming up." "My-my, aren't we the little go-getter. But no," Ginger said, licking her paw and rubbing her ears. "We simply need to mix the blood with the sap of the Lion's Paw. It's a white flower with five petals and a yellow center. Do you know it?" Indeed, Gillian knew the flower well. The sap served as an excellent base component for numerous spells, as the plant's enduring nature transferred over to extend spell duration. The hardy little plant grew in some of the harshest places; in particular, a patch of ruined stone in the library's perpetual shadow. "Yes...and I think I know where to find some," Gillian mused. She set Ginger off her lap and started stuffing textbooks and papers into her satchel. "The weather's been lovely and warm. It should be in bloom." Ginger hopped down and followed at a good pace, weaving in and out of Gillian's legs at frightfully inopportune moments, yet still avoiding a collision or nasty trip. They passed the clan of badgers who'd tormented her earlier; now embroiled in a heartfelt discussion on the proper metrosexual usage of dollies at tea-parties. A couple of students waved at Gillian as she made her way over Dalahhan Bridge to the Great Library. Otherwise, she no on interrupted their journey. Behind the Great Library, the ruins of the old university still stood like lonely sentinels of a past age. Covered in strange ivies and twisted roots, the shadowed portion of the university saw few visitors. Rumors abound of ghostly students and strange creatures haunting the green maze. Indeed, the deep silence that hung over the ruins did lend some credence to its unearthly reputation. Even so, scattered here and there, patches of Lion's Paw blossomed, adding a much needed sense of warmth to the place. "Wow," Ginger said, "This place is SO you." "Oh?" Gillian replied distractedly as she scanned for the flower. Since dealing with the Dark Hour regularly, mildly haunting places like this held no fear for her—they just couldn't compare. She started picking her path toward a patch of the Lion's Paw. "How do you figure?" "Convoluted and gloomy with a touch of beauty and innocence," Ginger said, hopping onto a mossy rock. Gillian snorted. She leapt from one stone to another, following Gillian from above. "I like it. I'll bet there are plenty of juicy field mice all over this place. Maybe a starling or two." A large patch of Lion's Paw had grown up around a crumbled pillar of stone and ivy. The white blossoms gently moved back and forth in the faint breeze, filling the air with their perfume. "Ah-hah," Ginger said, "Good as your word." Gillian sank her face into the blooms and inhaled deeply. "I love the scent. All right, we've found the Lion's Claw. Now what do we do?" Ginger hopped down and joined Gillian. "Collect about two handfuls and pluck the blossoms. Crush those on one of these rocks into a thin paste. And then we add the blood. After that, there's a little mojo-talk and poof. We're bound together. Physically at least. But it's the first step in a true Binding." Gillian started picking flowers. "Will this binding follow a traditional art plus form construction? Or are blood bindings formed differently?" Ginger found a stray beam of sunlight in which to sit, tail held high. "It would have been better to utilize the Animal and Corpus forms for this, but I think we can accomplish our goal with your current forms nonetheless. The sap of the Lion's Paw will consecrate the stone and act as an arcane link between your Terram powers and our blood. The blood itself will form into the links of the bronze cord. Our physical binding. "When this is complete, both of us will be able to borrow each others strength and some physical characteristics. For example you could become more nimble and attractive. Or I could... borrow your ability to look so dour and droopy." Gillian glanced up from the flowers. "Or you could borrow from my inexhaustible supply of tact—apparently you're fresh out." Ginger snorted. "Your wit is as sharp as a boiled sausage, kitten. It's very unbecoming. Tsk-tsk." Despite her words, the cat couldn't hide her pleased grin. "Now before I change my mind, let's be about this shall we?" "Yes," the young girl agreed, wondering just what she was getting herself into. She ground the blossoms with a fist-sized rock against the more-or-less flat surface of a nearby piece of rubble. "Is that enough?" she asked after working for several minutes. There were still some large pieces of petal visible, but the blossoms were mostly crushed and now quite sticky. Ginger sniffed and inspected Gillian's work with a clinical eye. Finally, she gave a pleased nod. "Perfect work, kitten," she said. She crawled up into Gillian's lap and extended her claws. "Once the blood is spilled, there's no turning back. Do you, Potnia Theron, accept the gift I offer you now? One of blood and soul? The deepest magick known in the Three Kingdoms?" Gillian realized Ginger had used a Secret Name for her; 'Mistress of the Animals.' Something stirred in the back of her mind, as if this name held a deeper meaning still. Her conservative, rational aspect sat on one shoulder, yelling in her ear, "This is insane! You know nothing about this cat! Deepest magicks! Don't do this! Run away-y-y!" A different aspect of Gillian, a part that hungered for knowledge and—did she dare admit it to herself?—power, thrilled at the opportunity set before her. "Do it. Blood magicks! You won't learn this arcana for several years at university, and here it's being shown to you now." Gillian wavered for a moment, her eyes flicking from Ginger to her hands to the sticky mess on the boulder and back to Ginger. "I accept." <Good girl> the Voice whispered; white teeth and burning eyes smiling from the shadowy recesses of her mind. Until this moment, it had never spoken to her during the day. Gillian drew in a startled breath. Ginger's claw pressed forward, puncturing the fleshy pad of Gillian's thumb. A flower of scarlet blossomed there, flowing in a painless trickle. The feline repeated the action on herself and then pressed the bloody paw to the stone. Immediately, the paste began to bubbled and spark. Her slitted eyes met Gillian's, nodding. The girl hesitated. "The Voice. In my head. It wants me to do this." Ginger cocked her head, blinking in confusion. "The Voice. In your head. Well, that's just peachy." The sparks intensified, "Listen my darling wackado, I don't care if Elvis is whispering sweet nothings to you. Right now I need you to complete the link before I'm bound into this stone and you turn into a grumpy patch of grass. "So, put your hand down, 'kay?" Cowed, Gillian smacked her bloody hand down into the bubbling paste. The burning liquid bled into the palm of Gillian's hand. A sensation of discomfort and tightness spread up her arm. Her vision blurred, overlapping images filling her head. In one world, her hand remained untouched and pristine. In another, she could see bronze links snaking their way through her flesh and linking her to Ginger. The links wormed their way higher, digging into her mind and heart, filling her throat with a metallic taste. And then all the discomfort disappeared beneath a deluge of pure sensation; bliss on tap. She felt small, powerful, and nimble. She tasted nectar on the wind, felt the soft grass beneath her and the sunlight caress her, and heard the birds singing atop the library and students talking in the Commons. All these things she felt and sensed until finally, she was pushed back into her body. "It is done," Ginger panted. "Our bodies are forever one." "That was...amazing," Gillian said distractedly, still overwhelmed. "Is that what it's like to be you? If so, I want to be a cat in my next life!" Ginger stretched languidly and then crawled up into Gillian's lap. The girl stroked her hand down the cat's back. "Give it time, kitten. You just may get your wish sooner than the next life." She smiled mischievously and pressed her paw against Gillian's chest. "Now. Let's discuss food, shall we? I'm hungry. And I think I saw a nice shop selling fish pies on the Bridge." She licked her chops loudly. "I have a spare coin, I think, for such a venture." She spontaneously kissed Ginger on her forehead and set her on the ground before standing up. "Let me drop off my books and then we'll go." Ginger chuckled, "Well, if you must, I suppose I'll alow it, Kitten." The cat followed along side, tail held high, extremely pleased with herself and her new pet. [continued in A Pressing Matter?] |
