The next day at school was quiet, and completely absent of the conflicts that arose as a result of her regular interactions with the rest of the student body. Over the years she had endured a number of torments with regards to her aptitude for the studies she was involved in. Most of them, at least as far as she was concerned, were spawned out of jealousy. Rather than take it in stride, she chose to fight back. Viciously. This only served to escalate problems between her and her peers, leaving her with very few people she considered acquaintances, let alone friends. Today the usual verbal spars were gone, replaced by the quiet whispering of rumor and supposition. People stopped talking when she entered a room, and they offered meaningless condolences and polite nods. It was like a stage production, or a very carefully choreographed dance. They would offer the pretense of sympathy, and she would pretend to be grateful for it.
The silence was almost deafening.
Normally, at this time of day she would meet up with Lyohniy or Vermilion and start to head home. It also occurred to her that Roan might be with them. He seemed curious about the combat school, and Mrs. Zee had gotten permission from the headmaster for him to visit, and possibly be evaluated. It would be unusual for someone of his age to start attending the school, but Cyan recalled something regarding advanced placement exams that might allow him finish early if he tested well enough. These and other thoughts whirled around her mind as stood off to the side watching the last last class of the day exit the combat arena. Once they had all left, she took a deep breath and walked towards the double doors. Two weeks, starting today.
She pushed one of the doors open and let it close behind her with a soft echoing click. The sole remaining occupant of the room was a strong-looking man of middling years dressed in a simple gray shortsleeve shirt and comfortable white slacks. He had large hooked nose, and long black hair that fell just beyond of his shoulders with a similarly long wispy mustache and beard, all of which Cyan guessed had been grown in an act of rebellion against a slightly receding hairline. Supposedly he had been an accomplished Huntsman in his youth, but Cyan had never known him as anything other than Instructor Jared, armed combat education specialist. She really didn't like him. He was overbearing, and possessed of an antiquated sense of propriety, always insisting on absurd formalities like having the students call him "sir". He'd been collecting the wooden practice weapons left scattered around the ring when the sound of her entrance got his attention. He turned around and paused when he got a good look at who it was.
"Cyan." he said politely, as though he was surprised to see her.
She reached the edge of the arena and stood at attention, crossing her hands behind her back, "Reporting for drills, sir."
She might not like him, but she could at least learn to respect him, if nothing else than to make the next two weeks more bearable.
He gave her a measured glance, then replaced the quarterstaff he had just retrieved to the collection bin, "It wasn't necessary for you to come today. I'm sure an exception could have been made if you need some time, given your situation."
His tone surprised her. Not because it was condescending or judgemental, but because it wasn't. He seemed genuinely concerned for her well-being. It was the first time in a long time that he wasn't yelling at her or scolding her for something. It was actually rather off-putting. She considered his words for a while, not entirely sure what to make of them.
"I appreciate that, but I'd rather get to work." she replied, then hastily added, "Sir."
He quirked his lips into a slightly amused expression, and nodded, "I understand."
Cyan stepped into the center ring and reached towards one of the heavy oaken training weapons in the shape of a broadsword. The instructor held up his hand to her, "Not just yet. I thought we'd start with something else today."
She tilted her head to one side in curiosity, "Like what?"
Jared moved a small, waist-high, circular table to the center of the arena. He then picked up a brown leather suitcase and set it down beside the table, "Based on what you said to the headmaster, it's possible that you discovered your Semblance yesterday."
"I," Cyan began, but found herself lost for words as the images flooded her thoughts, "...that is, I don't… I'm not sure."
Jared nodded thoughtfully, "Let's make sure."
He opened the case, revealing a number of sparkling Dust crystals in a variety of colors, precisely arranged on dark foam padded insulation in three neat rows. He retrieved one and pushed the lid on the case back down.
"Instead of starting general instruction right away, today is going to be about you." he declared pointedly. Cyan felt a peculiar wave of anticipation wash over her, and unconsciously drew herself up to her full height as she waited patiently for him to continue.
"Ordinarily, when attempting to verify a Semblance we would try to recreate the conditions which might have first triggered it. However, since that approach might prove," he paused and cleared his throat, "…hazardous… we need different one."
He held out the crystal to her in his palm, "What can you see?"
She peered at the glowing red object, and the swirling energy that lay dormant inside of it, and began rattling off as detailed a description as she could, "It's a Dust crystal, eight centimeters in length, refined but uncut, containing the base element of fire."
"Good" he nodded, and placed it in the center of the table, "Close your eyes."
She hesitated for a moment, but did so.
"Now what do you see?"
Cyan took a deep breath and focused her remaining senses on the room. The ventilation system hummed quietly overhead, the waxed floor gave off a faint odor she likened to fresh paint, and there was a slight chill on the air that made her uncomfortable. She waited for as long as she could stand it.
"Nothing." she said.
"…Huh."
She blinked her eyes open again to see Jared gently stroking the hair on his chin with a puzzled look on his face.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
He stiffened, and looked towards the table, "Process of elimination."
Cyan blinked again, "You don't, do you?"
"Do you?" he challenged, placing both hands on his hips.
In fact, she did not, and could offer no response other than to scowl and fold her arms across her chest.
"All right," he said, "Let's try something else. Close your eyes again."
She stared up at him, maintaining her dubious expression.
"Cyan..." he warned, fixing her with a level gaze.
She gave another sigh, but obeyed.
"Good." he began to circle slowly behind her, "Now, relax, and empty your mind."
"Gee, I don't know if I can, sir, how do you manage it?" she said through a smirk.
"Don't get cute. Just pay attention." he softened his tone and continued to circle to her left, "Relax, and let your thoughts drift back to yesterday."
She frowned, and fidgeted uncomfortably in place. A pair of strong hands fell upon her shoulders, bringing a strange calmness with them that held her steady.
"Picture everything that happened when you first used your Semblance."
Slowly, she began to lose her awareness of her surroundings as the memories returned. The deafening roar of the flames, the intensity of the heat, the awful smell of charred wood. As she fell still, she felt the hands leave her.
"Remember how you were feeling."
She grimaced as the image of her father made it's way to the forefront of her thoughts. Suddenly, she became acutely aware of the aetheric energy in front of her, like a low buzzing sensation that set her teeth on edge.
"Focus, and remember the aura incantation: For it is in passing that we achieve immortality..."
Hearing the words spoken aloud seemed to give them a sort of strange power. Cyan heard herself continue, as if in a trance, "...through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all."
Jared urged her to continue, "Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul..."
"And by my shoulder," her eyes flew open, "protect thee."
An enormous twisting column of energy boiled through the air towards Cyan. Instinctively, she extended her right hand to intercept it, palm facing outward. The energy surrounded her in a blinding cascade of translucent blue light, and in the next instant it was gone.
Cyan fell to her knees, gasping for breath, before Jared could reach her. The feeling of dizziness was overwhelming, and she fought to keep her stomach settled. After a moment of greedily gulping in air, she soon recovered enough of her strength to stand.
With a hand under each shoulder, Jared gently helped her up, "Are you okay?"
She swallowed another breath, and nodded, "Yes."
He took her head in both his hands and peered at her closely. Once he was satisfied she wouldn't collapse again he moved back over to the table. Steam rose from the center of it, and the finish on the surface it was slightly charred as though the crystal had discharged, although if a Dust crystal that size really had been set off then there wouldn't be anything left of the table, let alone the floor surrounding it. Where there once sat a vibrant red crystal there was now a dark brown husk.
Jared stared at the crystal in silence for a long while, seemingly unsure of what to make of it.
"What happened, sir?" Cyan asked him.
"Well," he said slowly, "It seems that you absorbed the propellant energy of the crystal. But instead of internalizing the energy, you are gradually dissipating it over time. I think that's what makes you so tired."
That seemed to make sense. Even as they discussed it she was already starting to feel better.
He reached out to pick up the crystal, and it promptly crumbled to powder in his fingers.
"Dust... to dust." the words came out from the instructor as a barely audible whisper.
Cyan turned her head quizzically, "What?"
He smiled softly and shrugged, "Well, that is what happened." he said, displaying the remains of the crystal on his fingers. He then frowned down at the floor, "I think that's enough for today, though. Let's move on to martial instruction."
"But I feel fine now." she protested, "I can keep going."
"Of that I have no doubt. However," he nudged suitcase with the tip of his shoe until it sprang open. A small cloud of smoke billowed out, followed by several more distinct trails of steam in neatly arranged rows, "it looks like this lesson is already going to cost a bit more than I had originally planned."
Cyan could feel herself flush with embarrassment. Jared gave her a pacifying look and said, "Control comes with training. Give yourself some time. Practice—"
"'—is the key to everything.'" she said along with him, rolling her eyes.
"Both in combat and in life." he added with a hint of admonishment as he approached the barrel containing the training weapons. Cyan's expression immediately fell to dismay again when he pulled out the facsimiles of a longsword and kite shield and tossed them in her direction. She caught them with a sigh, then fished her arm through the strap and gripped the sword tightly. It was an awkward and unbalanced thing, and its weight made it difficult to wield properly. This was apparently deliberate, as the extra weight would purportedly increase muscle development. Jared's hand explored the contents of the barrel a bit more before he selected the wooden replica in the shape of a long handled bearded axe. He inspected it briefly and then, seemingly satisfied, strode across the to the opposite side of the painted circle on the floor marking the edge of a ring.
"What's the problem now?" he asked, noting her sullen expression.
Cyan looked at the equipment in her arms and replied, "What's this supposed to accomplish?"
He held the axe straight overhead in a stretch, "Nothing is more important than the basics."
"No, what I mean is," she said, rolling her shoulders into her warm up stretch of her own, "what's the point in drilling techniques that I'm never even going to use?"
He tilted his head to one side as he swiveled his waist back and forth, "How do you know that? I thought you hadn't decided on a project yet."
She regarded her equipment with a look of disgust, "Well I know it won't be this.
Instructor Jared didn't respond with words. Instead he whipped the axe in an overhead circle and sent it speeding down towards her. She barely reacted in time to lift the shield and deflect it, but blow was still powerful enough to knock her off balance. Jared spun on his heel, throwing nearly the entirety of his weight behind the next swing. Cyan brought up the sword and tried to meet the attack head on, but the force of the impact knocked her sword arm away, leaving an opening for the instructor, which he took, driving the bottom of the grip into her midsection. She slid backwards and fell to one knee, trying to draw her breath back in.
Jared hoisted the weapon up to rest on the back of his shoulder, "All knowledge is an asset. As a Huntress, anything you know could one day save your life, or the lives of those you are sworn to protect."
Cyan glared angrily at him and pushed herself up from the ground, then held the shield up in front of her and charged forward. Jared braced the axe across the front of his body and absorbed her impact, but she was able to maneuver just enough under his guard to throw his weapon upwards. She lunged, thrusting the sword at his exposed midsection, but he deftly spun again, causing her to shoot past him. Whirling back around into a defensive crouch, she winced as the axe hammered into her shield again, distracting her enough to allow him to hook the curve of the blade around her ankle, which he dragged out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. Before she could stand, he pointed the top of the shaft at her throat.
"You never know what will happen during a mission. You might not always have your preferred weapon available to you."
He stepped away, allowing Cyan to stand again, and then tossed the axe, grip first, through the air in her direction. She caught it with a slight growl of frustration, and likewise tossed her sword to him, then pulled her arm free of the shield and threw that to him as well. He secured the weapons and took up his stance, waiting for her to make the first move. They clashed again, Cyan throwing as much of her body as she could manage into her offensive flow, replicating many of his earlier movements in a vain attempt to land a solid hit. The shield move quickly and precisely in his grasp, intercepting each of her attacks. Try as she might, she could find no gaps in his defense.
Then she got an idea. Off of another failed attempt, she shifted her weight forward, deliberately leaving an opening. Jared took it, and brought his sword arm down at her head in a wide arc. In that instant, she pushed back and brought the axe up at an angle that would cause the blow to glance off to the side, giving her the perfect opportunity to strike. That opportunity never came. In the split second that Cyan made her move, so did he, pulling back his feint, and thrusting his shield arm squarely into her abdomen. It landed with enough force to throw her backwards through the air and send her crashing to the floor. She pushed herself up to one knee, planting the axe head firmly on the ground to stay upright.
Jared lowered his weapons and rolled his shoulder in a stretch until it popped, "In the most dire situations, you will not have time to think. Honing your instincts and reflexes now will mean the difference between success and failure later."
Cyan bowed her head as she drew several labored breaths. Her muscles were sore, her palms hurt from the impact of the weapons, and her ribs ached from the blows she had taken. The instructor, on the other hand, didn't even look winded. He calmly walked over to the barrel and replaced the sword and shield, drawing out two four foot wooden poles in their place. He tossed one at Cyan and took the other one in both hands, holding it at the ready in front of him.
"Again."
For the next hour they continued this process, until they had worked with every weapon available. Though the initial burst of activity had left her nearly exhausted, she was surprised to find herself growing accustomed to the strain. As the minutes ticked by she grew more used to the fatigue, until she barely even noticed it any more. The wooden weapons clacked together, sending echoes throughout the arena, punctuated by the shouts accompanying more powerful swings, and grunts of pain each time an attack succeeded. Cyan couldn't help but notice that she was making far more of those grunts than he was.
He had just finished knocking Cyan away again by jamming the haft of his halberd below the twin curved dagger-shaped weapons she was holding when he stood up from his stance and planted the weapon on the ground.
"Alright. That's enough for one day."
Her mouth dropped, partially from surprise, and partially in frustration, "Not yet, sir, I can keep going!"
Jared pointed up at the wall clock, "You only have to stay an hour each day. Save some of it for tomorrow."
"But—"
The sound of him jamming the wooden spear against the bottom of the barrel cut her off, "Go home. Rest."
It was all she could do to not cave in to an overwhelming desire to run up and punch him in his big, stupid face. Instead she averted her eyes and said through bared teeth, "Yes sir."
She let the daggers clatter to the ground, spun on her heel and scooped up her backpack from it's spot on the floor near the exit, then left without another word. She paused to glare at the door after it closed behind her. Instead of heading for the courtyard, she stormed down a nearby hallway and found herself in an empty training room. Thick padded mats covered over two-thirds of the floor, and various weightlifting equipment filled the rest. She dropped her bag to the floor, and, snatching a pair of protective gloves off the nearby wall, began to take out her irritation on the heavy bag in the corner of the room. Her fists crashed into it again and again, occasionally mixing in a strong kick. Even after she worked up a healthy sweat, she continued to pound on the bag, only stopping to catch her breath when it felt like her arms were going to fall off.
"Wow. Sure hope you never get that ticked off at me."
Cyan whirled around to face the source of the voice, and saw Lyohniy propping one of the doors open, with his arms crossed in front of him, his expression equal parts impressed and amused.
"Ticked off? What makes you say that?" she asked, heavy on the deadpan.
He shrugged his shoulders, "Oh I dunno. Maybe because after a vicious street fight, running into a burning building, followed by spending a full day in a hospital bed, most people would try to take it easy for a while."
"I'm not most people." she said, turning around and laying into the bag again, "Besides, if I don't get into at least one argument with an authority figure each day, I'll turn back into a pumpkin at midnight."
He chuckled, "I almost believe that."
Cyan didn't share his amusement. Pausing to catch her breath again, she said over her shoulder, "Did you come here for a reason?"
"Besides looking for you?" he pushed off the door and walked into the room, "That depends. You happy punching that bag, or do you wanna go a few rounds with me?"
Cyan slowly turned her head to stare at him, and saw he had already pulled his duster from around his shoulders, and fetched another pair of padded gloves from the wall.
"Sparring?" she asked.
"Yeah." he affirmed, and pulled off his duster, followed by his school uniform jacket, revealing a white sleeveless shirt underneath. It surprised her how much muscle he had developed around his arms and shoulders. He pulled a pair of gloves over his hands and stepped onto the mat, then raised his right arm to his chin, and extended his left towards her in a closed fist. After a moment's consideration, she stepped across from him, assumed a similar defensive posture, then bumped his fist with her own. They circled each other slowly, throwing a few probing jabs, more intended to gauge defense rather than inflict damage.
"So, the first day of drills went well?"
Cyan tried a simple combination against him, which was deflected away cleanly, "Yep."
Slowly the circling stopped, and she felt the calm flow over her in a wave. She tapered her senses, shutting out everything around her and focusing all of her attention on Lyohniy. As the force of their attacks steadily grew in intensity, they came closer to landing as well. Cyan rolled and swayed, finding a comfortable defensive groove to keep her out of harm's way.
"He beat you again, huh?"
She frowned and hooked her right arm into a wide arc. The punched found it's way behind his defense and connected with Lyohniy's jaw, knocking him several steps back before he could recover from it. He rubbed at it with his hand and worked his mouth into a slow circle, as though he was making sure it was still attached.
"I'll take that as a 'yep'."
"I would have had him if we had kept going."
They made another brief, though unsuccessful, exchange before he said, "Maybe he was worried you were pushing yourself too hard."
Cyan shuffled forward finding her way past an incoming punch and landed an uppercut on his chin. She lifted through the attack and wrapped her hands around his shoulders, driving her knee into his midsection. He grunted, and tried to push her back, but she simply stepped to the side, using his momentum to throw him to the ground in a heap. He rolled to a sitting position to see her standing over him, her hands placed on her hips, and a triumphant smirk on her face.
"Maybe he just didn't want to lose!"
Lyohniy took a second to catch his breath and then asked, "Why is it always about winning and losing with you?"
She creased her brow at him, and offered him her hand, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He took it, and she hoisted him back to his feet, "It means that sometimes it's about learning things."
They squared off again, trading blows back and forth in a practiced rhythmic series.
"Maybe sometimes there's nothing worth learning." she said.
He allowed himself a little smile, "And maybe you don't know as much as you think you do?"
She swayed out of the way of his left hook and rolled her eyes, "Oh great, so now you know what I'm thinking too?"
"Something like, 'why did he abandon me' right?"
Cyan froze. For a split second her mind completely shut down. She forced herself out of her stupor just in time to avoid the first hurtling towards her, and wobbled briefly before regaining her full balance.
Lyohniy looked her in the eyes and said, "I mean, sure, you know he didn't, but that doesn't help you not be mad about it."
Their next exchange came a bit slower than the others, but the strength behind the attacks somehow increased.
"But not nearly as angry as everyone else makes you." he continued, "Suddenly, everyone cares, everyone wants to be your friend, everyone wants to help, and everyone 'understands'. But they don't understand. They can't. And worst of all, they never, shut, up."
The words struck at her more harshly than any blow he had made, and the both of them gradually dropped their stance. She got what he was trying to do, but he was still wrong about one thing.
"Just stop. You have no idea know what I'm going through."
He scoffed, "Oh I don't, huh?"
"No, you don't!" she shouted, "Your dad died a hero! It was his choice, his duty, and he carried it out. Mine was…"
She felt the tears start to well up once again, and turned away in disgust. She was so sick of crying.
"Taken?" Lyohniy supplied, "Guess what? So was mine."
Cyan felt her lip quiver as she said with a quiet anger, "It's different."
"I'll give you that." he said, "At least I know what kind of monster killed my dad."
The words hit her like a tidal wave, and again she stopped in her tracks, spinning around to look into his eyes. At first she considered the possibility that it was an accident of phrase, that he didn't really know what he had said. But his eyes were hard and resolute and supremely confident in their assertion. He knew. But how…?
It came to her in that same split second, and she looked down at the floor and sighed, "Vermilion told you."
Lyohniy nodded, "He was worried about you."
"So that's what this is about?" she said, covering her festering anger with a carefully measured layer of calm, "You're supposed to talk some sense into me?"
"Heck no."
She blinked and looked up at him again.
"I mean," he nervously rubbed at the back of his head, "yeah, I think that's what he wanted. But I'm just here to be here. You want to talk about it? We can talk. You want to go hunt someone down? I've got your back."
She couldn't think of anything to say.
He pointed a gloved hand in her direction, "Just promise me that whatever you decide, you'll let me help, and not try to go running off by yourself. Okay?"
A smile crept onto her lips, and she could feel the anger and frustration start to fade away, replaced by a gentle comfort. She nodded to him once and replied, "Okay. I promise."
After a moment's pause, she added, "Thanks, Lyoh."
He chuckled and held up his hands, "Stop, I'm blushing."
The sound of an opening door drew her attention, and she glanced over to see Vermilion enter the room, with Roan following close behind him. Lyohniy pulled the gloves from his hands and waved. Roan acknowledged him with a polite and simple nod, and went back to examining the room, much as he had Lyohniy's house last night. Vermilion nodded at him as well but remained strangely tight-lipped. Cyan might have been imagining things, but he seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact with her.
"Hey guys!" Lyohniy said in all his usual exuberance, "How'd it go today?"
Vermilion glanced at Roan, "Not bad. We're just finishing up the tour."
Lyohniy beamed with delight, causing Cyan wonder how so much jovial spirit could possibly be contained within a single person.
"So?" he said to Roan, "What do you think?"
"It's nice." Roan replied.
Lyohniy nodded expectantly, but when Roan said nothing else, he let his arms fall to his sides, "Well shoot, man, try to rein it in some."
Roan looked confused, which only served to make Vermilion and Lyohniy snicker.
"How did the evaluation go?" Lyohniy asked.
"It went well." Roan said.
"Ha. 'Well', he says." Vermilion said with a roll of his eyes, "He tested right out on the practical knowledge exam. Nearly at Academy level. Instructor Jared wouldn't approve without the physical exam, but once you're out of that sling I doubt you'll have a problem."
Lyohniy nodded wordlessly, apparently very impressed.
"Where did you learn all of that, Roan?" Vermilion asked, still shaking his head, "I thought you said you'd never attended a combat school."
"I haven't." he replied, his eyes taking on a gleam of quiet reflection, "But there are dangerous places in the world, outside of the kingdoms. You have to become strong to survive."
Cyan continued to stare at her brother, but he either didn't notice or wouldn't acknowledge it.
"Vermilion…?" she said in a prodding tone.
He finally looked at her as everyone's gaze was drawn to him. His eyes flicked back and forth between each them, "…Yes?"
Her piercing gaze turned into a glare, and she folded her arms in front of her.
Vermilion sighed, "Alright, already."
He shifted the weight of his backpack uncomfortably, then said, "We told you yesterday that, while you were still asleep, the detective in charge of investigation came to visit us in the hospital. He promised to tell us as soon as he knew anything. I got a message from him today."
"And?" she asked impatiently.
"And… they're still investigating." he said, and then grudgingly admitted, "But according to the very preliminary report from the medical examiner, there were no outward signs of smoke inhalation."
An abrupt surge of anger swept over Cyan, and a cold silence descended upon all of them. Lyohniy looked around at the faces deep in thought, seemingly out of the loop, and said, "Which means… what, exactly?"
Vermilion's expression turned grave, "It means there's a chance that Dad wasn't alive when the fire started."
"So I was right." she said.
"It looks that way." he consented.
Roan, who up until now had been watching quietly, said, "Right about what?"
The others exchanged nervous looks with Cyan, who nodded to them.
Lyohniy said, "Cyan thinks that fire might have been set deliberately."
Roan seemed uncertain, "I don't understand. What was it about your father that would make you think that?"
"I think I know." Vermilion said, looking at his sister, "When we were kids, Dad used to move around a lot."
"Like when I first came home," Cyan affirmed, "we moved about a month later."
"I can't believe you remember that. We were only five." Vermilion said in amazement, "But yes, that's right. We also moved twice in the year before we started attending school here."
"Did he ever say why?" Roan asked.
The siblings glanced briefly at each other and both shook their heads, a note of regret crossing their features.
"We never really thought anything of it." Cyan said, "Times were hard, and we never had much money."
"But now," Roan said, following her line of reasoning, "you think he might have been running from something."
She nodded, and stared up towards the ceiling as if looking into the distance, "I want to know who did this. I want to know what it was that someone thought was worth his life."
"We both do." Vermilion said, resting a hand on her shoulder.
Lyohniy nodded as well, "I made a promise, didn't I? Count me in."
"And me."
They all turned to Roan in surprise.
"This could be dangerous." Cyan said, "I don't know what we'll find, or how long this will take. I don't even know where to start. You don't have to—"
He held up his hand to stop her, "You all saved my life, and helped me even after I tried to steal from you. If there is anything that I can do to repay you, I will do it."
"All right!" Lyohniy grinned and gave Roan a hearty slap on the back. His eyes widened slightly, and he let out a quiet whimpering groan as he shifted his sling.
"Sorry." Lyohniy said sheepishly.
Cyan looked at the three of them and smiled. It was the first time since yesterday that she didn't feel totally helpless and alone. What had Dad always said to her? With friends you can count on, nothing is insurmountable. Of course, she had no real plan, nor had any idea how to go about making one. But she also supposed that perhaps she didn't need one yet. Whatever she might find, she— no they— all had to be ready for it. For now, there was no point in worrying about what she couldn't control. What she could do was focus on taking things one step at a time.
"Well I'm starving. Wanna head out?" Lyohniy said.
"You go ahead, I have one more stop to make." Cyan replied, before scooping up her backpack and heading for the door, "See you at home."
She had reached the end of the hallway before Vermilion caught up with her, "Wait up. Where are you headed now?"
"The library." she said over her shoulder, without slowing down.
Vermilion's expression lit up in surprise, and he followed her in silence through the school halls. Almost everyone had gone home for the day, but since students were allowed to remain for independent study until sunset, the campus maintained a near constant faculty presence. After a few minutes, they reached a set of arched double doors made out of freshly polished wood, pushed them open and headed inside.
"Does this mean you finally decided on something?" Vermilion asked.
"Maybe." Cyan frowned, "I'm not sure. Nothing seems to, I don't know, fit."
As they entered the enormous two-story room, they exchanged pleasant acknowledgements with the elderly clerk sitting behind the front desk. They passed through the sprawling shelves of the archive, filled to overflowing with books on countless different subjects. Towards the back of the room they came upon the most recently added section: close to a dozen more shelves, chiseled from solid stone, with square dividers carved into perfectly arranged rows, each one containing a scroll. Not the handheld tablet devices that had become so popular in the recent years, but actual rolls of parchment. Each one was a schematic for a different type of weapon. They had been added as part of the new program that required all students to forge their own weapon before they could graduate. The scrolls themselves were replicas of the real parchments that had once been used before the more modern methods of information storage had been developed, presumably to reinforce the traditional nature of the endeavor.
"That sounds about right." Vermilion said to her, as he casually ran his fingers along the shelves, "Your weapon will dictate where you focus the rest of your training. In a way it's like deciding your own future. It's not always an obvious choice."
"Which one did you pick?" she asked, hoping for at least some inspiration.
He paused and examined the shelves carefully, until his searching fingers found one slot in particular. He pulled out the parchment and handed it to her, unable to keep the grin off of his face. She examined the contents and arched an eyebrow at her brother.
"Kind of old-fashioned, don't you think?"
His face faulted, "I prefer to think of it as 'classic'. Besides, I am going to make some modifications to it."
She sighed and handed it back to him, and he carefully replaced it to it's position on the shelf. He did have an odd appreciation for the classics. It should suit him well. But that still didn't help her at all.
"Well?" he asked, the anticipation evident in his voice, "What about you?"
Cyan continued to walk forward until she reached a small square table, one of several and each just large enough to sit one person, situated at the end of the row of shelves. For the time being, the faculty didn't want the scrolls to be removed from the library, so they included this area for students to study them here at their leisure. She set her backpack down and pulled out the sketch pad that had been recovered from the fire.
"I've been looking at those things ever since they arrived here." she said, opening the pad to the next blank page, "Plus any catalog I could get my hands on, and I've still come up with nothing."
She then took out a pen, and several precision drawing tools, "So I'm going to take Instructor Jared's advice, and try a different approach."
Vermilion eyed her curiously, "Anything I can do to help?"
"Can you…" she said, briefly trailing off, "pass me that scroll behind you? Fifth shelf on the right, row three, second column from the left."
Her right hand was already moving on the pad, and her left was stretched over her shoulder behind her, fingers open and waiting. Vermilion blinked in confusion for a moment, then spun and looked around behind him. He didn't get more than a single step across the floor before she spoke again.
"My right."
He stopped and stared at her. She hadn't moved but for the smooth fluid gestures from the pen in her hand. He turned the corner of his mouth into a half-smile as he headed in the other direction. After a few seconds of searching he found the requested scroll and handed it to her.
"Thanks." she said, without turning around, and began studying it intently while continuing to scribble on the pad.
Vermilion was just about to leave her when she spoke again.
"And the one from the third shelf on the left, fifth row, last column on the right."
He turned back around and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
