All tagged Magic
The great Houses of magic were not concerned with bloodlines or politics, except in the unescapable mundane sort of way most things are. But at their heart, the Houses considered themselves above such things. Magical heritage did not concern itself with mere genetics; an aptitude was the essential requirement. And, for some Houses, an attitude.
The orange tom, with its one milky eye, coughed out a single damp feather. It had to leap sideways to dodge a half-hearted kick from the Great Magician Quilin, which elicited a hiss from the cat and a disproving tut from old Due, who was sitting on his canvas sling chair and sucking on a eucalyptus mint. He always smelled like freshly cleaned library books, or a mucus-y head cold.
When people spoke of the witch in the woods, they whispered lest the breeze carry their words to her pointed ears. For all their proximity to the wild woods and the horrors they contained, those on the edges whispered more fervently, their wagging tongues and tall tales distracting them from the gnawing, creeping cold that encased the town in its icy grip.
They called Tifa a beggar, those well-dressed, nose-in-the-air folks who strolled the boulevards and esplanades. Her ragged clothes and enormous hat stood out against the jet black paths, ruining the sleek lines of the city, catching the eyes momentarily, it was true, but she wouldn’t lower herself and don a name chosen by others.
Shimmering dunes stretched hungry fingers towards the towers of Theros, false water threatening illusory floods in the blinding sunlight. Aspasia watched the travellers trudge across the sands day and night, huddled beneath meagre shade-cloths even as their sprawling caravans stretched out towards infinity.
The old oilskin had been cold and greasy to the touch when he’d put it on, but now as the wind dug icy claws into his skin and sought the cracks in his clothes, he was thankful for it. The old castle loomed above him, dark even against the blackened sky, and before him lay the path.
Overhead, the trees began to grow tangled and thicker, the dim patches of darkening sky strangled by encroaching greenery. The smell of soil and rotted leaves hung thick in the humid summer air.
Hopefully it was territory-bound and wouldn't leave the cavern. I didn't know. I'd never encountered a manticore before.
