“What can I say? He loved telling these cloak and dagger stories about Seheron. Turning assets, not just fighting in the jungle.” Tiberius shrugged. He’d never had much personal interest in Grandfather’s war stories. It was partially the resentment of his younger self, forever pissed off that he’d been kept home and close to hand while Enzo and Malachai made their careers.
Ah, well. He had other things to show for the time. A mastery of every branch of magic he’d ever turned his hand to, for one. Greater flexibility within the Magisterium.
Then this frustrating inheritance. For all that Enzo still seemed in a splendid mood, Tiberius was not getting it. He worked on the tablet until he’d filled its surface with useless chicken scratch – then melted it back into a blank with the heat of an electric arc cupped between his hands.
“Shall we take a break?” He got up and stretched, taking up the empty wine bottle. Two glasses over so long a time … Tiberius felt warm but far from drunk. That could be corrected.
And he didn’t feel that he’d begun to try Enzo’s patience with this task, not yet. If it took a few days, that changed nothing at all except that he got to keep Pavus close by for longer – propriety be fucked. He led the way to the cellars, careful not to bother anyone else. The sun was long down, the estate beginning to settle down for the night. It occurred to him that they ought to make a small detour for something to eat.
“Well.” Puttering about the semi-dark kitchens, Tiberius began to assemble a platter. Fruit and preserves, nuts, cheeses, toasts of day old bread. “You might as well ask about her.” He’d hoped Lyric and Enzo would be able to speak at the Archon’s ball. Alas, the evening had taken several strange turns instead.
“I’ll go absolutely mad if we keep putting it off.” He stuffed several grapes into his mouth and chewed.
Ah, well. He had other things to show for the time. A mastery of every branch of magic he’d ever turned his hand to, for one. Greater flexibility within the Magisterium.
Then this frustrating inheritance. For all that Enzo still seemed in a splendid mood, Tiberius was not getting it. He worked on the tablet until he’d filled its surface with useless chicken scratch – then melted it back into a blank with the heat of an electric arc cupped between his hands.
“Shall we take a break?” He got up and stretched, taking up the empty wine bottle. Two glasses over so long a time … Tiberius felt warm but far from drunk. That could be corrected.
And he didn’t feel that he’d begun to try Enzo’s patience with this task, not yet. If it took a few days, that changed nothing at all except that he got to keep Pavus close by for longer – propriety be fucked. He led the way to the cellars, careful not to bother anyone else. The sun was long down, the estate beginning to settle down for the night. It occurred to him that they ought to make a small detour for something to eat.
“Well.” Puttering about the semi-dark kitchens, Tiberius began to assemble a platter. Fruit and preserves, nuts, cheeses, toasts of day old bread. “You might as well ask about her.” He’d hoped Lyric and Enzo would be able to speak at the Archon’s ball. Alas, the evening had taken several strange turns instead.
“I’ll go absolutely mad if we keep putting it off.” He stuffed several grapes into his mouth and chewed.
06-03-2024, 03:18 PM
