Waver hadn't been sure what to make of his assignment. Manipulating smoke into the answers to three short-answer questions, provided by other newbies. The first part made sense, learn to get a better handle on things, but the rest? How was he supposed to gather questions? Conduct an informal survey?
A The first part was straight forward. He had to conjure the smoke, and be able to do it seamlessly. Waver found himself an area downwind from everyone else, and positioned himself with his back towards the wind.
Quietly, he tried to figure out the mechanism. A wiggle of his fingers. A twitch of his nose. A stomp on the ground. The thought of smoke itself. Words, short and direct or else a bullshited lengthy incantation.
It is the last one that sends him the ability, and from the tips of Waver's fingers, clouds of thick, white smoke begin to form. They stream off, dissipating into the air, and when Waver imagines the clouds stopping, they do so.
"So that's the trick?" he muttered out loud. In the back of his mind, it also occurred to him that he had not activated any of his magic circuits.
So he stood there in his little section, practically a fog machine turning itself on and off.
B With the mechanism down pat after a half an hour's experimenting, the next part was manipulation. Waver suspected that it might be a whole body thing, but he also knew no one wanted a sudden cloud of smoke in their face.
So he kept it simple. He wiggled a finger and the thin whisps of smoke coming forward wiggled too. Wiggling both hands created a larger wave. There was a logic to it.
"Right," he said to himself, and as he did so, Waver put both of his hands in front of him and turned to his left. He didn't know if the smoke was moving with him because of the wind, because of his hands, or because he was also trying to will it into doing so, but it moved all the same.
There was a moment of silence, and Waver's hands hung at his side. Not visible, since he now faced away from the others, was the grin on his face. He was doing something that his lineage in magecraft wouldn't allow for. That? That was exhilarating.
C With the mechanics figured out, Waver sat himself down in the sand to do the actual assignment. As much as he could figure out the wording, he was supposed to make this stuff into exact shapes and then control it. Puppet shows came to mind.
He tried to make basic shapes first. Circle. Squares. Pentagons. Flat first, then three-dimensional. It took more time than Waver liked to get those functional, but by five o'clock, he could manage it.
"Now how am I supposed to get the damn questions I'm supposed to answer?"
no subject
A
The first part was straight forward. He had to conjure the smoke, and be able to do it seamlessly. Waver found himself an area downwind from everyone else, and positioned himself with his back towards the wind.
Quietly, he tried to figure out the mechanism. A wiggle of his fingers. A twitch of his nose. A stomp on the ground. The thought of smoke itself. Words, short and direct or else a bullshited lengthy incantation.
It is the last one that sends him the ability, and from the tips of Waver's fingers, clouds of thick, white smoke begin to form. They stream off, dissipating into the air, and when Waver imagines the clouds stopping, they do so.
"So that's the trick?" he muttered out loud. In the back of his mind, it also occurred to him that he had not activated any of his magic circuits.
So he stood there in his little section, practically a fog machine turning itself on and off.
B
With the mechanism down pat after a half an hour's experimenting, the next part was manipulation. Waver suspected that it might be a whole body thing, but he also knew no one wanted a sudden cloud of smoke in their face.
So he kept it simple. He wiggled a finger and the thin whisps of smoke coming forward wiggled too. Wiggling both hands created a larger wave. There was a logic to it.
"Right," he said to himself, and as he did so, Waver put both of his hands in front of him and turned to his left. He didn't know if the smoke was moving with him because of the wind, because of his hands, or because he was also trying to will it into doing so, but it moved all the same.
There was a moment of silence, and Waver's hands hung at his side. Not visible, since he now faced away from the others, was the grin on his face. He was doing something that his lineage in magecraft wouldn't allow for. That? That was exhilarating.
C
With the mechanics figured out, Waver sat himself down in the sand to do the actual assignment. As much as he could figure out the wording, he was supposed to make this stuff into exact shapes and then control it. Puppet shows came to mind.
He tried to make basic shapes first. Circle. Squares. Pentagons. Flat first, then three-dimensional. It took more time than Waver liked to get those functional, but by five o'clock, he could manage it.
"Now how am I supposed to get the damn questions I'm supposed to answer?"