Hiya! I'm finally back with a new chapter! ^_^ This one is packed with
detail and pretty much completely predictable content. At least I had fun
writing it…I think it says in the text, but it's been about 5 months since
the last chapter. I own nothing except the personalities and the Games.
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"That man who won the first place, you know?" Liam inquired as he and Lianne hurried down to the magery wing of the University. Not intending to wait for a reply, he went on, "He wasn't all that much better than you. If your Gift wasn't suppressed, you would've been right up there with him."
"What?" Lianne asked incredulously. "You're completely crazy! First off, I don't have anywhere near that much talent; second, remember, I played a wrong chord, which is one of the most unaffordable mistakes to make; and third—well, you're just crazy."
"Like I said, you wouldn't have hit a wrong note if your magic wouldn't have been suppressed," her brother insisted.
She scowled at the ever-persistent Liam, who just shrugged in innocence. "Perhaps," she conceded to humor him.
When Lianne had enlisted in the ranks of hundreds of Musical Games participants, almost five months after her occupation of the Palace, the official rules forbid the use of a Gift to aid any performance; this forced her to somehow repress the magic that leaked out in all her playing. During one of her rare private encounters with her younger brother, Jasson had offered, in an equally infrequent mood of benevolent familial connection, to curb her musical magic. However, due to lack of the intimacy between performance and Gift that she had become so accustomed to, Lianne had encountered much trouble playing with her usual spirit. Anxiety at exhibition of her abilities to judges had further added to the musical handicap, and in the middle of only the second semi-final round, she struck a completely off note, thus crushing any hopes of musical achievement in the Games. As soon as possible, she had Jasson remove the pesky restraints. Now, though, she was performing quite well in the Magical Games, the sixth and last semi-final round to which she and her brother were heading speedily.
"Didn't Julian say he was going to come?" Lianne questioned Liam, entering the large hall where creative magery semi-finals were held.
"Nope, he had some little task to perform for Lord Henar," Liam responded. "Probably something to do with that, er, /damaged/ wrist from the jousting Games," he added, grinning. Although Liam himself had inflicted the rather serious injury, he had never shown any regret or sympathy.
Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at Julian's absence, Lianne shook her head at her cocky brother but smiled nonetheless. After he had won an amazing third place in jousting and, to his further pride, fought an extremely close match with the two-time Games' first place winner and renown Tortallan jousting champion Sir Keladry, Liam strutted around the Palace like a laughably pompous peacock. It did nothing to help his ego when, as they entered the hall, a dozen Court beauties swarmed over to surround him. Over their cooing and crooning, he managed to shout to Lianne, "Good luck, sis!"
Avoiding the sickeningly saccharine girls, Lianne quickly found her labeled seat at the opposite side of the hall from the spectator seating. She scrutinized the instruments of her performance for any defects, and, after she was content that they were in prime condition, she skimmed over the individual musical scores in order. Instead of designing for maximum listening pleasure, Lianne had written the melodies to best correspond with the magical effect and had chosen the instruments for each display in the same manner.
Lianne tried to smother her nervous shaking and ignore the queasy apprehension in her stomach, taking her mind off the anxiousness by watching the last few stragglers enter before performances began. For the third round in a row, a grandly-clad group that she suspected to be foreign nobility arrived rather late and took their usual unnoticed seats near the back of the hall. Because semi-finals hardly ever attracted royalty, Lianne had been earlier intrigued with these certain attendants.
"Sixth round semi-finals will commence," boomed the, by now familiar, magically-enhanced announcing voice of Lianne's division's manager. After a polite smattering of applause, the division director beckoned the contestant in the first seat, a black, hulking Banjiku man, to the main floor. While many had pressed for an exclusively wild magic category, the participants so magically inclined still competed in the creative magery category.
Lianne sat exactly in the middle of the group, between a Bazhir who turned out to be a very talented weather mage and a blonde girl Lianne recognized from earlier semi-final rounds. Though consistently mediocre in efficiency, the girl's unique style of magery—classical dance—had been the factor to bring her this far; however, Lianne doubted if either the girl or even herself would make it any farther, and with every next competitor displaying increasing talent, she became steadily less convinced.
In the almost exact words Lianne had been thinking, the girl whispered to her, "Is it just my jealous view, or are these people getting more and more talented with each turn?"
"I believe I've noticed the same," Lianne replied. "Makes me a bit more unsure of my abilities."
The girl shrugged, smiling in something reminiscent of pity, and once again Lianne regretted saying anything besides a uniform response.
"Lianne of Contè, Tortall," called the division director. All at once, Lianne erupted into nervous shaking and, collecting her instruments, unsteadily approached the judging area. As she tried to organize the instruments on the table allowed to her, the steel drums clattered to the floor, smashing the tense and utter silence of the hall and producing a round of titters in the audience. Lianne blinked back tears of embarrassment, gathering the drums into her arms protectively and checking them for injuries.
Before she could be completely unnerved by the incident, and also because she was inspired by it, Lianne quickly plopped down on the floor, set the steel drums in front of her, and began the display of frustration. The emotion came easily to her, and she felt it flowing through the steel drum score; the room fell into attentive silence, but Lianne could also sense a slight level of mirror emotion building in them.
With little pause after completion, Lianne grabbed her mbira, an odd but effective instrument made of small, steel thumb keys bound to a wooden box. Immediately she plunged into the nostalgia display, which, in peculiarity equal to its channel, compelled the listener to look back on his or her past and raised those related emotions to the surface.
Next, the sitar provided an excellent passageway for confusion, then guitar (a/n: some renaissance guitar, you know? …oh come on, use your imagination) for regret, and the 'ud, a large, pear-shaped lute, for exhaustion. To offset those rather negative feelings, Lianne used a small wooden xylophone for a carefree playfulness, followed by the exotic zither, a metal-stringed lute that produced an appropriately appealing metal sound quality for fascination, and finally, for calm and peace, a large harp that, as her favorite instrument, had seemed fitting as the finale. In that final performance, Lianne's fingers danced over the strings, and she sensed her Gift smoothly pouring out of her inner store and occupying the hall with complete serenity. Resonating in her spirit, the final note contained every last ounce of emotion she possessed…
Lianne opened her eyes at last, realizing she had kept them closed during the entire exhibition. After a few seconds of silence, a deafening round of applause rose from the considerably full hall while the judges snapped up from the peaceful enchantment of the last score and instantly wrote down Lianne's scores.
Collecting the papers from the judges, the division director read them aloud—Lianne had received almost all perfect scores. From the shock and from the added fatigue of her use of magic, she fainted on the spot.
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Predictable, like I said. Hopefully somewhat original. If you believe this fic worthy, reviews are always appreciated…oh, yes! Time for another big ol' thank you, this time to wonderful Sarcasm Queen, who always has such super lovely reviews!!! (And great fics, too!)Thank you, thank you, thank you, to Sarcasm Queen and Jossie and all those great people who take time to review! I love ya!!!
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"That man who won the first place, you know?" Liam inquired as he and Lianne hurried down to the magery wing of the University. Not intending to wait for a reply, he went on, "He wasn't all that much better than you. If your Gift wasn't suppressed, you would've been right up there with him."
"What?" Lianne asked incredulously. "You're completely crazy! First off, I don't have anywhere near that much talent; second, remember, I played a wrong chord, which is one of the most unaffordable mistakes to make; and third—well, you're just crazy."
"Like I said, you wouldn't have hit a wrong note if your magic wouldn't have been suppressed," her brother insisted.
She scowled at the ever-persistent Liam, who just shrugged in innocence. "Perhaps," she conceded to humor him.
When Lianne had enlisted in the ranks of hundreds of Musical Games participants, almost five months after her occupation of the Palace, the official rules forbid the use of a Gift to aid any performance; this forced her to somehow repress the magic that leaked out in all her playing. During one of her rare private encounters with her younger brother, Jasson had offered, in an equally infrequent mood of benevolent familial connection, to curb her musical magic. However, due to lack of the intimacy between performance and Gift that she had become so accustomed to, Lianne had encountered much trouble playing with her usual spirit. Anxiety at exhibition of her abilities to judges had further added to the musical handicap, and in the middle of only the second semi-final round, she struck a completely off note, thus crushing any hopes of musical achievement in the Games. As soon as possible, she had Jasson remove the pesky restraints. Now, though, she was performing quite well in the Magical Games, the sixth and last semi-final round to which she and her brother were heading speedily.
"Didn't Julian say he was going to come?" Lianne questioned Liam, entering the large hall where creative magery semi-finals were held.
"Nope, he had some little task to perform for Lord Henar," Liam responded. "Probably something to do with that, er, /damaged/ wrist from the jousting Games," he added, grinning. Although Liam himself had inflicted the rather serious injury, he had never shown any regret or sympathy.
Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at Julian's absence, Lianne shook her head at her cocky brother but smiled nonetheless. After he had won an amazing third place in jousting and, to his further pride, fought an extremely close match with the two-time Games' first place winner and renown Tortallan jousting champion Sir Keladry, Liam strutted around the Palace like a laughably pompous peacock. It did nothing to help his ego when, as they entered the hall, a dozen Court beauties swarmed over to surround him. Over their cooing and crooning, he managed to shout to Lianne, "Good luck, sis!"
Avoiding the sickeningly saccharine girls, Lianne quickly found her labeled seat at the opposite side of the hall from the spectator seating. She scrutinized the instruments of her performance for any defects, and, after she was content that they were in prime condition, she skimmed over the individual musical scores in order. Instead of designing for maximum listening pleasure, Lianne had written the melodies to best correspond with the magical effect and had chosen the instruments for each display in the same manner.
Lianne tried to smother her nervous shaking and ignore the queasy apprehension in her stomach, taking her mind off the anxiousness by watching the last few stragglers enter before performances began. For the third round in a row, a grandly-clad group that she suspected to be foreign nobility arrived rather late and took their usual unnoticed seats near the back of the hall. Because semi-finals hardly ever attracted royalty, Lianne had been earlier intrigued with these certain attendants.
"Sixth round semi-finals will commence," boomed the, by now familiar, magically-enhanced announcing voice of Lianne's division's manager. After a polite smattering of applause, the division director beckoned the contestant in the first seat, a black, hulking Banjiku man, to the main floor. While many had pressed for an exclusively wild magic category, the participants so magically inclined still competed in the creative magery category.
Lianne sat exactly in the middle of the group, between a Bazhir who turned out to be a very talented weather mage and a blonde girl Lianne recognized from earlier semi-final rounds. Though consistently mediocre in efficiency, the girl's unique style of magery—classical dance—had been the factor to bring her this far; however, Lianne doubted if either the girl or even herself would make it any farther, and with every next competitor displaying increasing talent, she became steadily less convinced.
In the almost exact words Lianne had been thinking, the girl whispered to her, "Is it just my jealous view, or are these people getting more and more talented with each turn?"
"I believe I've noticed the same," Lianne replied. "Makes me a bit more unsure of my abilities."
The girl shrugged, smiling in something reminiscent of pity, and once again Lianne regretted saying anything besides a uniform response.
"Lianne of Contè, Tortall," called the division director. All at once, Lianne erupted into nervous shaking and, collecting her instruments, unsteadily approached the judging area. As she tried to organize the instruments on the table allowed to her, the steel drums clattered to the floor, smashing the tense and utter silence of the hall and producing a round of titters in the audience. Lianne blinked back tears of embarrassment, gathering the drums into her arms protectively and checking them for injuries.
Before she could be completely unnerved by the incident, and also because she was inspired by it, Lianne quickly plopped down on the floor, set the steel drums in front of her, and began the display of frustration. The emotion came easily to her, and she felt it flowing through the steel drum score; the room fell into attentive silence, but Lianne could also sense a slight level of mirror emotion building in them.
With little pause after completion, Lianne grabbed her mbira, an odd but effective instrument made of small, steel thumb keys bound to a wooden box. Immediately she plunged into the nostalgia display, which, in peculiarity equal to its channel, compelled the listener to look back on his or her past and raised those related emotions to the surface.
Next, the sitar provided an excellent passageway for confusion, then guitar (a/n: some renaissance guitar, you know? …oh come on, use your imagination) for regret, and the 'ud, a large, pear-shaped lute, for exhaustion. To offset those rather negative feelings, Lianne used a small wooden xylophone for a carefree playfulness, followed by the exotic zither, a metal-stringed lute that produced an appropriately appealing metal sound quality for fascination, and finally, for calm and peace, a large harp that, as her favorite instrument, had seemed fitting as the finale. In that final performance, Lianne's fingers danced over the strings, and she sensed her Gift smoothly pouring out of her inner store and occupying the hall with complete serenity. Resonating in her spirit, the final note contained every last ounce of emotion she possessed…
Lianne opened her eyes at last, realizing she had kept them closed during the entire exhibition. After a few seconds of silence, a deafening round of applause rose from the considerably full hall while the judges snapped up from the peaceful enchantment of the last score and instantly wrote down Lianne's scores.
Collecting the papers from the judges, the division director read them aloud—Lianne had received almost all perfect scores. From the shock and from the added fatigue of her use of magic, she fainted on the spot.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Predictable, like I said. Hopefully somewhat original. If you believe this fic worthy, reviews are always appreciated…oh, yes! Time for another big ol' thank you, this time to wonderful Sarcasm Queen, who always has such super lovely reviews!!! (And great fics, too!)Thank you, thank you, thank you, to Sarcasm Queen and Jossie and all those great people who take time to review! I love ya!!!