Thread: Shadow Dance {Pretty and Fades}

Yes? Do not 'yes' me, Tierian. Not with that tone. ... I am your superior. You're always so quick to forg- No. No? No. What do you mean 'no'? A sneer. You are my guild leader. But you are not superior to me. Then why am I the one giving the orders? ... Do not think for but a moment that you are not replaceable! You will not be doing that. Excuse me? Mazzion questioned, rising from his desk to lean forward, open palms against its edges. You hate dealing with me. All the more reason I should reconsider. You hate dealing with me because I get the job done, and even when I do not have a task I do not turn the mentality off. Such as now. Obviously. Mazzion's left palm balled into a fist. Your point? If you could have used someone else, you would have. ... It had been forty minutes since the summon was sent, a request that took so long not for a lack of haste on the messenger's part, for Tierian was known well within the Sciomancy and tales of his missions were things of aspiration for many of the younger ranks. It had taken that long to simply find the gray-haired warrior-mage, to tell him that he was being summoned and to return to the guild leader. The steps back were filled with thoughts, disdainful thoughts. The two men held a mutual respect for one another in a sense of professional respect, in a sense of two powers that dare not clash, but on a personal level there was little to be had in common. The smooth features of his face calm as stone, his gray eyes, his soft voice just as still, Tierian held no qualm about looking the man in the eye to speak as he thought. I am a tool for the guild. A useful one. Treat me as such. ...Do not leave me around for months at a time to rust, and do not look to me as a cowering servant. That is all I ask. I gave you time off hoping you'd choose to take up a teaching position. You know that. And I do not want it. You know that. Mazzion let out a slow, ticked off breath, exhaling from his nose and furrowing his brows. Well too bad, he stated, because this assignment is close enough to it. Sitting, he pulled his chair a bit closer and rifled over his desk a moment before setting the two letters at its far end. Come. Read these. Tierian stepped forward. His dark armor flowed together effortlessly with his movements, his long burgundy cape chasing at his heels. She wants a home, he started, watching the man take up the first of the two letters. I want to give her one. More than that, I want to make an example out of her. That brought a slight smirk to the edge of his lips. I like making examples. I know you do. A return smirk. They could coexist after all, it seemed. Break her, Tierian. She's an Ascendril. I want you to break every shred of honor, every memory of dignity she ever possessed. Since when did the Sciomancy not have either? We do. We have a different kind. But this one is personal, he said as Tierian took up the second letter. They've openly denounced us for too long. Maybe, just once, I'm thinking we should be the monsters they claim us. And who better to be that than one of their own? Going back to the first letter for a moment, then setting them back on the desk, Tierian spoke with his head down, eyes poring again over their words, I get the feeling this is going to be interesting. I hope you'll go over the highlights with me over a few pints one day. Your treat. Not with the way I pay you. He smirked. So when is she due in? Who knows? Next week, maybe. Maybe today.