"Who has paced the midnight sky"
So a spirit has to fly
As the heavens seem so far
Now who will paint the midnight star"
Place a name upon the night
One to set your heart alight
And to make the darkness bright
Paint the sky with stars."
-Enya _______
He'd waited until Anya was gone for the night before slipping in to her office. After checking her desk to make sure he wouldn't disturb anything by doing so, he laid out the paper she had given him with the chart she wanted on her ceiling. Then he sat in her chair and leaned back slightly, relaxing. ...Ah, yes, there would be the spot to centre the design. He flung a light mote up, coloured red, as a marker.
Then, he set to work.
He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing up his energy. There was energy around him; not just the electricity thrumming through the wiring in the walls, but great lines of magical power. For a moment, he was tempted to try and find that power he couldn't see....but in a moment remembered that would be a very bad idea. Instead, he ignored the energies moving around him, and focused on his own. Either it would be enough or it wouldn't, and there was nothing he could really do to change that.
The first motes were the ones for the brightest stars in the constellations. He set them carefully into place, nudging them until they were just so. A twist of his hand secured them to the ceiling; a clench of his fist and they were cut off from his own power. A long pause, just to make sure they wouldn't wink out or disperse without his control, and then he sat back down to make sure they looked right.
The next set, slightly dimmer, went up in very much the same fashion. He worked slowly, carefully. Perhaps to another person, it wouldn't matter if the stars weren't exactly positioned, but to him' It was of the utmost importance that every mote was in the proper spot. That was the most time consuming part.
The hardest part, however, he felt was either past him or just ahead. It had been quite difficult to make the motes self-sustaining. However, once the solution had been found, he wanted to hit his head against the nearest hard surface for not figuring it out sooner. Still, in the end, all that experimenting, though difficult, might not prove more-so than having to place thousands of light motes between here, the nursery, and the children's recovery ward.
Still, he kept at it, finishing Anya's office and heading on to the nursery. That had actually been fun. The light motes had made some of the awake infants giggle or stare wide-eyed, and perhaps he had wasted a bit of energy using a few motes as toys to entertain the wee ones....though he would hardly count that as a waste.
The nursery went even slower than the office, as he felt his energy wane with each new set of motes. It did not at all help that he was so precise, because he couldn't cut them off from his control and still be able to manouevre them. As such, every second spent arranging was another second the motes fed off his rather limited power.
As the last few motes went up, he yawned, terribly hungry. With some thought, and no small amount of grousing to himself, he decided to call it a night. It was a shame he hadn't gotten the recovery ward done....but that was three charts and a very large amount of ceiling, so really, only a fool would blame him for needing to rest up for that.
His only thought as he headed for the Inn was that he rather hoped Anya was occupied elsewhere, as he did not need her to know he'd been at work so late.
-Enya _______
He'd waited until Anya was gone for the night before slipping in to her office. After checking her desk to make sure he wouldn't disturb anything by doing so, he laid out the paper she had given him with the chart she wanted on her ceiling. Then he sat in her chair and leaned back slightly, relaxing. ...Ah, yes, there would be the spot to centre the design. He flung a light mote up, coloured red, as a marker.
Then, he set to work.
He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing up his energy. There was energy around him; not just the electricity thrumming through the wiring in the walls, but great lines of magical power. For a moment, he was tempted to try and find that power he couldn't see....but in a moment remembered that would be a very bad idea. Instead, he ignored the energies moving around him, and focused on his own. Either it would be enough or it wouldn't, and there was nothing he could really do to change that.
The first motes were the ones for the brightest stars in the constellations. He set them carefully into place, nudging them until they were just so. A twist of his hand secured them to the ceiling; a clench of his fist and they were cut off from his own power. A long pause, just to make sure they wouldn't wink out or disperse without his control, and then he sat back down to make sure they looked right.
The next set, slightly dimmer, went up in very much the same fashion. He worked slowly, carefully. Perhaps to another person, it wouldn't matter if the stars weren't exactly positioned, but to him' It was of the utmost importance that every mote was in the proper spot. That was the most time consuming part.
The hardest part, however, he felt was either past him or just ahead. It had been quite difficult to make the motes self-sustaining. However, once the solution had been found, he wanted to hit his head against the nearest hard surface for not figuring it out sooner. Still, in the end, all that experimenting, though difficult, might not prove more-so than having to place thousands of light motes between here, the nursery, and the children's recovery ward.
Still, he kept at it, finishing Anya's office and heading on to the nursery. That had actually been fun. The light motes had made some of the awake infants giggle or stare wide-eyed, and perhaps he had wasted a bit of energy using a few motes as toys to entertain the wee ones....though he would hardly count that as a waste.
The nursery went even slower than the office, as he felt his energy wane with each new set of motes. It did not at all help that he was so precise, because he couldn't cut them off from his control and still be able to manouevre them. As such, every second spent arranging was another second the motes fed off his rather limited power.
As the last few motes went up, he yawned, terribly hungry. With some thought, and no small amount of grousing to himself, he decided to call it a night. It was a shame he hadn't gotten the recovery ward done....but that was three charts and a very large amount of ceiling, so really, only a fool would blame him for needing to rest up for that.
His only thought as he headed for the Inn was that he rather hoped Anya was occupied elsewhere, as he did not need her to know he'd been at work so late.