:: Silken Fire ::
Sorcerous Stabber Orphen
Sequel to Smoke's Wrath
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters mentioned.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Rai/Hartia, Cleao+Orphen, eventual Orphen/Majic
Warnings: AU, shounen ai, mild language
Notes: I felt oddly productive after Ivy-san's criticism. Thank you, Ivy-san! I still think it would ruin the flow of the fic to change abruptly to first person (I don't believe it's good practice for someone who wants to write professionally) but I did try to add more insight. I'm probably still using more emotion than thought, but it will probably take me a while to get it to balance out.
Thank you, Mina-sensei, for the encouragement! And Neko-san and Alz-chan for always reviewing. Whee...
Translations:
Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin - I release thee, Light's Unsheathed Blade
Ware wa tsugumu, miwa no yoroi - I spin thee, armor of light
The setting was one of false security, with bright sunlight despite the winter coldness. Warmth seeped into his body, slowly and steadily, keeping him at a nice level of comfort. One foot shifted through crisp morning grass; dew clung to his boots, determined to soak through to his socks. Few clouds decorated the sky, and the ones there were faint and wispy, blowing along easily in the little breeze that tousled his fine silken hair.
He was tense, eyes darting around nervously. His lower lip was being nipped at, portraying his anxiety easily. His pupils seemed to be almost swallowed entirely by swirling turquoise; his eyebrows were drawn down in intense concentration. Then, to his left, a sudden cry caught his attention.
"Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin!"
The form of the attack hardly came as a surprise, though the force and speed of it seemed quicker than he remembered. Majic froze, his mind scrambling to remember a defensive attack. His hands flew up; an incantation barely uttered before he was hit. He fell to the ground, grunting upon impact. This time when a second attack came, he was prepared.
"Ware wa tsugumu, miwa no yoroi!" This time the light exploded upon impact of a faintly blueish shield that seemed to be just centimeters away from his fingertips. Majic blinked before a delighted smile lit his face; he'd been successful!
Then without warning, a sharply knuckled fist crashed into his skull. He yelped and clutched at his head, wincing as his master grumbled above him and yanked him to his feet. "How many times do I have to tell you?" the older sorcerer asked in annoyance. "Stop using your eyes. And you're not psychic; don't think even for a moment that you can just sense my presence. Whoever says that is lying. Use your EARS; listen for me. Even the most stealthy make mistakes!"
Majic sighed, head still very sore from the blow. "Yes, Oshou-sama. I'll do better next time."
He was grateful and pleased that Orphen had taken the past couple of hours to put him through some serious training, he really was. Majic had been surprised when his master -- and sort-of boyfriend, he realized, blushing -- had offered to take the afternoon to practice magical spells. He'd agreed eagerly, though all Orphen had had him do was defend himself.
"Let's take a break," the amber-eyed sorcerer suggested, stretching lazily. "Then I want to try something else, all right?"
Majic nodded mutely. He had a pretty good feeling that the reason he HAD only been using defense so far was because Orphen wanted to confirm whether he was a white magic sorcerer or not. White magic generally meant he could heal and defend, but black magic, he felt, was more important because he could defend himself. And just because they had only recently started an awkward, new relationship, didn't mean that his desire to be just as great a sorcerer had lessened any. That was what had started it all in the first place!
Sore but not tired, Majic wandered some ways off. Perhaps it was just because he was much more happy now, but the tension between them seemed to have lessened a great deal. He came to stop at a nearby stream, watching as shimmering clear water rushed over the rocks beneath the surface. He crouched near the brink, dipping the pads of his fingers, not surprised to find it icy cold.
Without knowing why, Majic dipped his hand in until the water washed over the middle of his forearm, shivering. He clenched and unclenched his fist, finally pulling his hand back out, musing over so many things.
'Cold,' he thought absently, rubbing his wet hand on his pants in an attempt to rid himself of the chill. A sudden warmth encompassed his hand and he looked up sharply, pleasantly surprised to see Orphen. Nothing was said; Orphen just held his cold hand in both of his own, staring down almost thoughtfully.
'Cold... Just like Orphen-sama was only a short few days ago.'
Majic uncurled his fingers, gently squeezing the older youth's hand before Orphen stood, pulling him to his feet. "Enough rest," he said quietly. "One more lesson and we'll be on our way."
They walked back to the center of the clearing. Majic stopped a good distance away while Orphen continued walking. Finally the brunette turned. "Attack me."
Only mildly taken aback by the order, Majic lifted one arm, fingers outstretched and spread, grasping the other arm with his left hand. He racked his mind for an appropriate attack, only able to come up with the basic.
"Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin," he whispered, clenching his eyes shut tightly. Heat pulsed in his once-cold hand, seeming to engulf it for a split second, and then suddenly left with startling force. It shot toward Orphen, who muttered a quick incantation and deflected it with what looked like a bright blue light. Majic knew what it was; it was the Demon's Blade.
"Not good enough," Orphen chastised. "You're depending too much on your powers alone. I did the same thing back at the Tower." His tone was more clipped than usual, one his apprentice had come to recognize as his ill-used "lecture" voice. All Majic did was nod, and the older, definitely more experienced sorcerer continued. "I've told you at least twice, I know; you need to synchronize your mind with your powers, soul, and strength. Once you learn to do it, it will come naturally each time you use magic."
Majic sighed, lowering his arm. "But Oshou-sama, you said that Paltanecs were white-magic users. That means I can't do--"
He was cut off as Orphen threw a harmless but disarming attack, sending him sprawling on his back. "No," the young man snapped, mahogany eyes narrowing. "That is exactly the wrong thing I want you thinking. If one with strong Xertil blood can learn defense, I'll be damned if I don't teach you offensive magic. Understand?"
Majic propped himself up on his elbows, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "Yes, Oshou-sama. I understand."
Thinking back, the young apprentice realized that Orphen had changed greatly. True, he and Krylancelo were two separate beings, even if they shared the same body. But even after Krylancelo had become Orphen and gone through drastic personality changes, Majic found that the young boy from the Tower of Fangs resurfaced once in a while. Perhaps it was because all faults and whatnot had been cleared between Azari, Childman, Hartia and him, but Orphen was slowly regressing, in a sense. Yes, he was still the same harsh teacher that would accept nothing less than perfection -- and it seemed that Childman's "death" had hardened his teachings -- but he was also kinder, in a sense.
"Do it again," instructed his master. Orphen's arm fell to his side, Demon's Blade still brightly glowing. Majic knew what his intent was; he was going to wait for him to attack first, and then defend himself to judge the speed of his student's attack. The day Majic could hit him before he could bring the blade up would be the day he would finally succeed in being his best apprentice.
They tried this several more times. Majic was scolded several times, even told to take all the time he needed to put his powers in synch with everything else. Even then the attack was only a bit better than the rest.
It frustrated Majic, really. He knew it took years to be able to use magic properly, and that he was a sort of prodigy in the sense he could even form his own sort of magic -- Something Orphen had noted once when catching Majic spying on Cleao bathing, an act he still felt ashamed to think about.
But even so, he knew that Orphen had grown to expect him to do better than he was at the moment. Most of the fault rested on his own shoulders; he didn't practice nearly enough. 'I'm disappointing him,' he thought with regret.
"No," he heard Orphen say almost viciously. "Majic, you're distracted. Whatever you're thinking about, forget about it when you're training or else we'll stop right now!"
It was a true threat, and Majic cringed. "Sorry," he apologized, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Again he attacked, and again it was deflected without Orphen even trying. It was like child's play to the older sorcerer, and that Majic had to try so hard to do what Orphen could do so easily, as though he were simply breathing, only made him more determined to succeed.
Orphen, on the other hand, was pleased to see that Majic was focusing more sharply. Aquamarine eyes were narrowed in concentration, fingers flexing as the boy struggled to form a proper magic attack. His student was better than most he knew, with that raw talent lurking beneath his psyche, but he was still just a beginner. He was much better than Orphen had been after only a year's training, but a sorcerer couldn't rely on talent alone. Sorcery was like singing; it had to be trained, toned and polished to perfection before it could be properly used. Pure talent was good on its own, but flourished with the best effects under proper training.
Finally, when the boy began to show signs of exhaustion, he let up. "That's enough," he said. "We still have a ways to go before nightfall."
Majic nodded, too tired to argue, and crouched down, seeming to need to catch his breath. Orphen felt a little bad for doing that to him, but he had to toughen him up somehow. If Majic wanted to become a true sorcerer, he was going to have to depend on his own training and not on his master teaching him every lesson. Some things were best learned alone, after all.
"Oshou-sama," he heard a few moments later. "Why are you so lenient with me?"
Orphen walked over to him, dropping to his knees beside him, rocking back on his heels. "You think I'm lenient?" he inquired, draping an arm over his knee.
Majic sighed and looked up. "You're not as harsh as the teachers back at the Tower of Fangs, that's all. I want to become a good sorcerer."
The older youth reached out to muss the blonde's hair. "I'm not Flameheart," he said with uncharacteristic gentleness. Heat rose in Majic's neck; when he talked like that, he was beginning to think that Orphen had actually been right in saying there was a good chance he could try to love Majic back. Even if it wasn't true, he liked to think it. "This is more of a manner Childman taught me in, though I know I'm a lot harder than he was in direct training."
Majic caught his wrist, eyes surprisingly serious. "You miss him."
Orphen nodded. "There are good and bad memories. And I'm not Childman; I can only try to be like him."
"I don't want you to be."
Orphen's expression changed suddenly, and Majic knew he'd gotten too intimate. He drew back, getting to his feet. "I'll get the pack, then," he said lightly, walking around the still-thoughtful sorcerer to retrieve their belongings.
Orphen remained crouching on the ground, torn between discomfort and guilt. 'It's not entirely his fault,' he told himself. 'You got too personal on your own. Don't provoke him like that!'
Well, it was only a matter of days until they reached Totokanta now. Orphen righted himself on his feet, rolling his head and hearing a crack that somehow relieved the tension in his neck. He brushed a couple blades of grass sticking to his knees. He pulled on his gloves until they clung to his palms comfortably again, turning to face his apprentice. The boy was ready, a sweet smile of apology on his lips.
Even if he wanted to, Orphen didn't think he could find it in himself to hold a grudge against him. He knew there would be a lot to face in Totokanta. Something like this wasn't going to do well kept in silence; Cleao would undoubtedly notice, sure as he was that she was going to rejoin them again. There was the risk of hurt there, and then there was Majic's father. Orphen knew he was far from the best of examples, and the main reason Bagup even let his son follow the black sorcerer was because Majic wanted to learn sorcery that badly. When it was revealed that they were trying to start and maintain a relationship... Well, there was certainly going to be SOME objection on Bagup's part, whether he was against it or not. Majic was, after all, his son and only heir.
Yep, it was definitely going to get interesting once they reached Totokanta.
Bare feet padded on soft carpet as Cleao walked over to the window, clothed in nothing but a white cotton nightgown, adorned with thin, pale yellow ribbons on the hems. She leaned against the sill, tilting her head back.
A little mewl made her look down. Smiling, she stroked Leki's fur, softer than any kitten's, so much more pleasant to touch. The Deep Dragon cub leaned into her touch, purring softly on content. "They're coming back," the blonde whispered, though her mother and sister's rooms were far enough away so that she didn't have to lower her voice. Long fingernails tapped the window, her hand glowing with the moonlight's touch. "Can you feel it too, Leki? They're coming back."
Leki nuzzled her hand in response, seeming to be an affirmative. She smiled and kissed the top of his silken blue head. "I hope they're both doing well. Maybe Orphen's finally gotten better... I hope Majic was more of a help than a burden." Again, an affectionate nuzzle. She really loved this pup! "Maybe when he gradually gets over Azari-san, I can tell him how I feel."
She started with sharp teeth pierced her hand. "Leki?" she questioned, not disturbed that a tiny bead of blood was welling up where his sharp fangs had accidently pricked her.
The blue cub licked the wound, though he didn't move to give her affection again. Musing over this, Cleao turned her eyes back outside, biting the inner side of her lip. Had something happened in the short moon and couple weeks she hadn't seen either of them?
Perhaps, she realized, Majic's being with Orphen had done a lot more than she'd originally thought... And she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.
Sorcerous Stabber Orphen
Sequel to Smoke's Wrath
Disclaimer: I don't own Sorcerous Stabber Orphen or any of the characters mentioned.
Rating: PG
Pairings: Rai/Hartia, Cleao+Orphen, eventual Orphen/Majic
Warnings: AU, shounen ai, mild language
Notes: I felt oddly productive after Ivy-san's criticism. Thank you, Ivy-san! I still think it would ruin the flow of the fic to change abruptly to first person (I don't believe it's good practice for someone who wants to write professionally) but I did try to add more insight. I'm probably still using more emotion than thought, but it will probably take me a while to get it to balance out.
Thank you, Mina-sensei, for the encouragement! And Neko-san and Alz-chan for always reviewing. Whee...
Translations:
Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin - I release thee, Light's Unsheathed Blade
Ware wa tsugumu, miwa no yoroi - I spin thee, armor of light
The setting was one of false security, with bright sunlight despite the winter coldness. Warmth seeped into his body, slowly and steadily, keeping him at a nice level of comfort. One foot shifted through crisp morning grass; dew clung to his boots, determined to soak through to his socks. Few clouds decorated the sky, and the ones there were faint and wispy, blowing along easily in the little breeze that tousled his fine silken hair.
He was tense, eyes darting around nervously. His lower lip was being nipped at, portraying his anxiety easily. His pupils seemed to be almost swallowed entirely by swirling turquoise; his eyebrows were drawn down in intense concentration. Then, to his left, a sudden cry caught his attention.
"Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin!"
The form of the attack hardly came as a surprise, though the force and speed of it seemed quicker than he remembered. Majic froze, his mind scrambling to remember a defensive attack. His hands flew up; an incantation barely uttered before he was hit. He fell to the ground, grunting upon impact. This time when a second attack came, he was prepared.
"Ware wa tsugumu, miwa no yoroi!" This time the light exploded upon impact of a faintly blueish shield that seemed to be just centimeters away from his fingertips. Majic blinked before a delighted smile lit his face; he'd been successful!
Then without warning, a sharply knuckled fist crashed into his skull. He yelped and clutched at his head, wincing as his master grumbled above him and yanked him to his feet. "How many times do I have to tell you?" the older sorcerer asked in annoyance. "Stop using your eyes. And you're not psychic; don't think even for a moment that you can just sense my presence. Whoever says that is lying. Use your EARS; listen for me. Even the most stealthy make mistakes!"
Majic sighed, head still very sore from the blow. "Yes, Oshou-sama. I'll do better next time."
He was grateful and pleased that Orphen had taken the past couple of hours to put him through some serious training, he really was. Majic had been surprised when his master -- and sort-of boyfriend, he realized, blushing -- had offered to take the afternoon to practice magical spells. He'd agreed eagerly, though all Orphen had had him do was defend himself.
"Let's take a break," the amber-eyed sorcerer suggested, stretching lazily. "Then I want to try something else, all right?"
Majic nodded mutely. He had a pretty good feeling that the reason he HAD only been using defense so far was because Orphen wanted to confirm whether he was a white magic sorcerer or not. White magic generally meant he could heal and defend, but black magic, he felt, was more important because he could defend himself. And just because they had only recently started an awkward, new relationship, didn't mean that his desire to be just as great a sorcerer had lessened any. That was what had started it all in the first place!
Sore but not tired, Majic wandered some ways off. Perhaps it was just because he was much more happy now, but the tension between them seemed to have lessened a great deal. He came to stop at a nearby stream, watching as shimmering clear water rushed over the rocks beneath the surface. He crouched near the brink, dipping the pads of his fingers, not surprised to find it icy cold.
Without knowing why, Majic dipped his hand in until the water washed over the middle of his forearm, shivering. He clenched and unclenched his fist, finally pulling his hand back out, musing over so many things.
'Cold,' he thought absently, rubbing his wet hand on his pants in an attempt to rid himself of the chill. A sudden warmth encompassed his hand and he looked up sharply, pleasantly surprised to see Orphen. Nothing was said; Orphen just held his cold hand in both of his own, staring down almost thoughtfully.
'Cold... Just like Orphen-sama was only a short few days ago.'
Majic uncurled his fingers, gently squeezing the older youth's hand before Orphen stood, pulling him to his feet. "Enough rest," he said quietly. "One more lesson and we'll be on our way."
They walked back to the center of the clearing. Majic stopped a good distance away while Orphen continued walking. Finally the brunette turned. "Attack me."
Only mildly taken aback by the order, Majic lifted one arm, fingers outstretched and spread, grasping the other arm with his left hand. He racked his mind for an appropriate attack, only able to come up with the basic.
"Ware wa hanatsu, hikari no hakujin," he whispered, clenching his eyes shut tightly. Heat pulsed in his once-cold hand, seeming to engulf it for a split second, and then suddenly left with startling force. It shot toward Orphen, who muttered a quick incantation and deflected it with what looked like a bright blue light. Majic knew what it was; it was the Demon's Blade.
"Not good enough," Orphen chastised. "You're depending too much on your powers alone. I did the same thing back at the Tower." His tone was more clipped than usual, one his apprentice had come to recognize as his ill-used "lecture" voice. All Majic did was nod, and the older, definitely more experienced sorcerer continued. "I've told you at least twice, I know; you need to synchronize your mind with your powers, soul, and strength. Once you learn to do it, it will come naturally each time you use magic."
Majic sighed, lowering his arm. "But Oshou-sama, you said that Paltanecs were white-magic users. That means I can't do--"
He was cut off as Orphen threw a harmless but disarming attack, sending him sprawling on his back. "No," the young man snapped, mahogany eyes narrowing. "That is exactly the wrong thing I want you thinking. If one with strong Xertil blood can learn defense, I'll be damned if I don't teach you offensive magic. Understand?"
Majic propped himself up on his elbows, rubbing the back of his head ruefully. "Yes, Oshou-sama. I understand."
Thinking back, the young apprentice realized that Orphen had changed greatly. True, he and Krylancelo were two separate beings, even if they shared the same body. But even after Krylancelo had become Orphen and gone through drastic personality changes, Majic found that the young boy from the Tower of Fangs resurfaced once in a while. Perhaps it was because all faults and whatnot had been cleared between Azari, Childman, Hartia and him, but Orphen was slowly regressing, in a sense. Yes, he was still the same harsh teacher that would accept nothing less than perfection -- and it seemed that Childman's "death" had hardened his teachings -- but he was also kinder, in a sense.
"Do it again," instructed his master. Orphen's arm fell to his side, Demon's Blade still brightly glowing. Majic knew what his intent was; he was going to wait for him to attack first, and then defend himself to judge the speed of his student's attack. The day Majic could hit him before he could bring the blade up would be the day he would finally succeed in being his best apprentice.
They tried this several more times. Majic was scolded several times, even told to take all the time he needed to put his powers in synch with everything else. Even then the attack was only a bit better than the rest.
It frustrated Majic, really. He knew it took years to be able to use magic properly, and that he was a sort of prodigy in the sense he could even form his own sort of magic -- Something Orphen had noted once when catching Majic spying on Cleao bathing, an act he still felt ashamed to think about.
But even so, he knew that Orphen had grown to expect him to do better than he was at the moment. Most of the fault rested on his own shoulders; he didn't practice nearly enough. 'I'm disappointing him,' he thought with regret.
"No," he heard Orphen say almost viciously. "Majic, you're distracted. Whatever you're thinking about, forget about it when you're training or else we'll stop right now!"
It was a true threat, and Majic cringed. "Sorry," he apologized, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. Again he attacked, and again it was deflected without Orphen even trying. It was like child's play to the older sorcerer, and that Majic had to try so hard to do what Orphen could do so easily, as though he were simply breathing, only made him more determined to succeed.
Orphen, on the other hand, was pleased to see that Majic was focusing more sharply. Aquamarine eyes were narrowed in concentration, fingers flexing as the boy struggled to form a proper magic attack. His student was better than most he knew, with that raw talent lurking beneath his psyche, but he was still just a beginner. He was much better than Orphen had been after only a year's training, but a sorcerer couldn't rely on talent alone. Sorcery was like singing; it had to be trained, toned and polished to perfection before it could be properly used. Pure talent was good on its own, but flourished with the best effects under proper training.
Finally, when the boy began to show signs of exhaustion, he let up. "That's enough," he said. "We still have a ways to go before nightfall."
Majic nodded, too tired to argue, and crouched down, seeming to need to catch his breath. Orphen felt a little bad for doing that to him, but he had to toughen him up somehow. If Majic wanted to become a true sorcerer, he was going to have to depend on his own training and not on his master teaching him every lesson. Some things were best learned alone, after all.
"Oshou-sama," he heard a few moments later. "Why are you so lenient with me?"
Orphen walked over to him, dropping to his knees beside him, rocking back on his heels. "You think I'm lenient?" he inquired, draping an arm over his knee.
Majic sighed and looked up. "You're not as harsh as the teachers back at the Tower of Fangs, that's all. I want to become a good sorcerer."
The older youth reached out to muss the blonde's hair. "I'm not Flameheart," he said with uncharacteristic gentleness. Heat rose in Majic's neck; when he talked like that, he was beginning to think that Orphen had actually been right in saying there was a good chance he could try to love Majic back. Even if it wasn't true, he liked to think it. "This is more of a manner Childman taught me in, though I know I'm a lot harder than he was in direct training."
Majic caught his wrist, eyes surprisingly serious. "You miss him."
Orphen nodded. "There are good and bad memories. And I'm not Childman; I can only try to be like him."
"I don't want you to be."
Orphen's expression changed suddenly, and Majic knew he'd gotten too intimate. He drew back, getting to his feet. "I'll get the pack, then," he said lightly, walking around the still-thoughtful sorcerer to retrieve their belongings.
Orphen remained crouching on the ground, torn between discomfort and guilt. 'It's not entirely his fault,' he told himself. 'You got too personal on your own. Don't provoke him like that!'
Well, it was only a matter of days until they reached Totokanta now. Orphen righted himself on his feet, rolling his head and hearing a crack that somehow relieved the tension in his neck. He brushed a couple blades of grass sticking to his knees. He pulled on his gloves until they clung to his palms comfortably again, turning to face his apprentice. The boy was ready, a sweet smile of apology on his lips.
Even if he wanted to, Orphen didn't think he could find it in himself to hold a grudge against him. He knew there would be a lot to face in Totokanta. Something like this wasn't going to do well kept in silence; Cleao would undoubtedly notice, sure as he was that she was going to rejoin them again. There was the risk of hurt there, and then there was Majic's father. Orphen knew he was far from the best of examples, and the main reason Bagup even let his son follow the black sorcerer was because Majic wanted to learn sorcery that badly. When it was revealed that they were trying to start and maintain a relationship... Well, there was certainly going to be SOME objection on Bagup's part, whether he was against it or not. Majic was, after all, his son and only heir.
Yep, it was definitely going to get interesting once they reached Totokanta.
Bare feet padded on soft carpet as Cleao walked over to the window, clothed in nothing but a white cotton nightgown, adorned with thin, pale yellow ribbons on the hems. She leaned against the sill, tilting her head back.
A little mewl made her look down. Smiling, she stroked Leki's fur, softer than any kitten's, so much more pleasant to touch. The Deep Dragon cub leaned into her touch, purring softly on content. "They're coming back," the blonde whispered, though her mother and sister's rooms were far enough away so that she didn't have to lower her voice. Long fingernails tapped the window, her hand glowing with the moonlight's touch. "Can you feel it too, Leki? They're coming back."
Leki nuzzled her hand in response, seeming to be an affirmative. She smiled and kissed the top of his silken blue head. "I hope they're both doing well. Maybe Orphen's finally gotten better... I hope Majic was more of a help than a burden." Again, an affectionate nuzzle. She really loved this pup! "Maybe when he gradually gets over Azari-san, I can tell him how I feel."
She started with sharp teeth pierced her hand. "Leki?" she questioned, not disturbed that a tiny bead of blood was welling up where his sharp fangs had accidently pricked her.
The blue cub licked the wound, though he didn't move to give her affection again. Musing over this, Cleao turned her eyes back outside, biting the inner side of her lip. Had something happened in the short moon and couple weeks she hadn't seen either of them?
Perhaps, she realized, Majic's being with Orphen had done a lot more than she'd originally thought... And she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.