No sooner had Violet sat down on the edge of her bed than her mother knocked on her door.
"Violet? Are you up? I want you to get used to the school year sleeping schedule before the first day of school."
Violet scrambled to hide the brushes and paint. From the outside it probably sounded like she was rushing to make it look like she was already up.
"Yeah, mom!" she yelled desperately.
"Oh, there's no rush today, sweetie." Violet could hear the amusement in her mother's voice. "We're not going anywhere. Take all the time you need."
"Thanks, mom! Love you!"
Violet waited until she could no longer hear her mother's footsteps before she took the brushes and paints out of the drawer into which she had hastily stashed them.
"Just wondering," drawled the pegasus, whom Violet had been ignoring, "when you hid the paints, why didn't you try to hide me? I certainly look stranger than some art supplies."
"Um… well, I figured that since you just sort of appeared out of nowhere, you'd be able to conceal yourself without my help. Besides, my mom would probably ask where I got the paint and brushes. They look nice, so she might suspect I stole them."
Violet couldn't read much expression on the pegasus without seeing its eyes, but the way it pursed its lips hinted that it was impressed.
"Clever girl."
On impulse, Violet reached out to touch the pegasus. It didn't resist, though it did actually flap its wings. Its fur was ridiculously soft, and it was very warm to the touch. When Violet closed her hand around its body, she could feel its buzzing heartbeat. Like a mouse, or a hamster…
Violet sat down again on the edge of her bed and released the pegasus from her grip.
"I believe you were going to tell me about magic?"
"Right. Well, I'll spare you the long, hairy theoretical explanation and just tell you that magic works best when you understand what you do to make things happen, but don't think too hard about how or why they happen. It's a very intuitive art."
The pegasus paused and gave Violet a pointed look that was clearly part of its prepared speech.
"Yeah, when I say art I mean art. It's not just the way fanciful humans call their work their art. Magic is linked to every kind of art there is: visual art, three-dimensional art, even the performing arts. If you can use it to express yourself, you can use it to make magic happen."
"So a fashion designer could be a magician?"
"The proper term is arcanist, as I already told you, but yes. Even someone who doesn't design his or her own fashions can be an arcanist. Not everyone is an arcanist, but just about every discipline of art has an arcanist or two who uses it."
"How do people become arcanists?"
"You're born with it. It's not genetic or anything. On the outside, it looks random, but that's just because the rules are so complicated you need like thirty degrees to understand them. So we'll go off the assumption that arcanists are randomly born. Everyone has an equal chance of being born with it, and you were one of the lucky ones. Congratulations."
Violet closed her eyes, shook her head, and puffed air out her lips.
"You don't believe me?"
"No — yes — argh — I believe you, OK?"
The pegasus laughed. "I know, I hate those types of questions too. They make it nearly impossible to answer unambiguously."
"So, uh… who are you? What are you?"
"What do you mean?"
"What's your name? Your job? Your species? Why are you, specifically, in my room?"
"Well, I'm not comfortable sharing my true name, but—"
"Why? Is it embarrassing?"
The pegasus glared at Violet. "Good gods, girl, do they teach you anything about magic? Of course they don't, they don't believe in magic…" The pegasus sighed. "I don't share my true name because words have power."
Violet snickered. "Anyone in this town could tell you that."
"Wait, so you do know about magic?"
"Not magic! WordGirl! She's a superhero, and…" Violet trailed off, knowing she was geeking out. "She's, uh, big on vocabulary."
There was a beat. It was a perfect beat, written into the stage directions of life. Violet felt like she'd be laughing if she was in the audience.
"Well, OK. I'm talking a different kind of power than your rinky-dink emotional power, though. I'm talking about the power to bind someone to your will, to make them unable to lie to you, to end them with a word. Words are names, and knowing someone's true name gives you power over them. Which is why I'd recommend you choose a new name as soon as possible and never reveal it to anyone."
"Wait, I thought you were born with your true name?"
"It depends with every creature. It's true sprites like me are born knowing our true names, but humans aren't born with them. They have to choose their own."
Violet was quiet for a moment.
"Well, if you don't give out your true name, what do others call you?"
"Everyone calls me something different. What do you think my name is?"
"I don't know!"
The pegasus sighed.
"I just mean… what do you want to call me? It's your choice."
Violet stared for a moment. Then she said, "Seraph. Because it sounds beautiful."
Seraph stammered. "Are you sure? That name… invokes quite a bit of power."
"You told me it was my choice. And I want to call you Seraph."
"Fine."
Violet stared at the pegasus some more. She smiled.
"You know, I'm kind of surprised about the gold feathers."
"Why?"
"Well, everything so far has had this silvery color scheme, but… you're golden." Violet giggled.
"Do you want me to change them? I can change them!" Seraph's wings quickly turned silver. Violet chuckled even harder.
"No, gold's fine. Are you a shapeshifter or something?"
The wings changed back to gold. "Or something. Oh, and protip: nobody else can see me. Take that how you will, because it's just something you should be aware of."
Violet nodded. "Hey, are you a girl or a —"
"Gonna stop you there, hon, because sprites don't have gender."
"Uh… OK. So… my next question. What do you do, and how did it lead you to my bedroom?"
"Well, basically I belong to a division that monitors young arcanists when they experience their first quickenings."
"That's one of those phrases I know I won't have to ask about, because it just screams exposition waiting to happen."
"Ha ha ha. You humans think you're so clever."
"What, is this the part where you rant about how humans are so stupid and how it's a miracle that we manage the brainpower to dress ourselves every day?"
"What? No! Humans aren't stupid! Sure, they — er, you — can be impatient, and short-sighted, and unable to put trust into the right people, but those things are more about wisdom than anything. You guys are plenty smart. If you weren't, you wouldn't have magic. Magic is mind, you know."
"Could you explain that last sentence a little more? It sounds kind of like philoso-babble."
"What?"
"You know, stuff the Wise Old Guy on the mountain says in movies. It's supposed to sound super philosophical and wise, but it comes out as you must look inside yourself to find your true self and save yourself from your other self. What does it mean?"
"Well, that's really all there is to it. Your magic is bonded with your mind. You can't take someone's magic away without taking away their mind, which is basically a fancy way of killing them without actually stopping their heart."
"Uh… good to know?"
Seraph laughed. "I like you. Anyway, where was I before I went off on a tangent? I do that a lot, you kn… oh, right. Quickening. Quickening is when your magic first starts manifesting. They're uncontrolled, and generally the sooner the arcanist starts training, the better."
"So yesterday with my fingers was quickening?"
"Can you describe it?"
"You're here, so should I just assume yes?"
"Well, maybe. Most people don't notice, because they usually happen when you're excited, or mad, or… yeah, you get my drift. Just tell me what happened yesterday."
"Well, I was kissing my boyfriend at the mall, and — hey, stop laughing! I was kissing my boyfriend, and then my fingers went… funny. Like they were asleep?"
"Asleep?"
"You know how when you sit for a long time, the circulation in your leg or arm can get cut off?"
"Oh, I get it. Continue."
"Well, after my fingers went tingly, they got hot and then cold… this sounds like a really, really bad analogy from an after-school special… but after they went cold, they slowly returned to normal."
"Yeah, sounds like a quickening, all right. Textbook, really. Well, I think that's all you need to know for now. Go eat breakfast. I'll see you tonight… and don't mess with the paints!"
All right, there you have it. I actually finished this one before it got too late to write, so I have extra time for chapter 4! Yay!
Please post your thoughts in the reviews. I love hearing them. Well, reading. And feel free to check out my other stories, shoot me a PM if you want to talk, and/or take a look at my beta reader profile. I'm going to put up a new poll soon in my profile.