The letter had only been the start- it was the match that lit the fire, so to speak. Mior had done as it demanded. Notified her school she?d be gone and had little idea of when she?d be back. Taken a handful of spell-books and the personal spell-book she herself was filling. Her wand and cloak stashed away in a couple of bags. Clothing packed away. Sam followed along, the only one truly gleeful about what was coming, because it was different. It would be an adventure, and that was a statement none of them could refute. Knowledge said they would be taken home, interrogated, and held until the council decided whether or not they were safe to let go. That was what had been done before, it was the only thing that made solid sense. They could deal with that, perhaps unhappily, but it could be done.
It didn?t take long for her black cloak to come back out, and wand as well. This kind of travel made her nervous, she?d rather not feel the need to change part way through. Better to wear them and have done, than not and regret it. Sam slipped in. Laid five knives out on her cloak, all sheathed and only a few inches long, and leaned back against the bed to watch her pack one final bag. The half dozen books, in one compartment, jewelery in the other. ?I feel like we?re walking into trouble, Your boy seems to think the same.?
Mior didn?t startle, but she did spare that moment to look over her shoulder at the other woman. ?Yes. We are.? Stated simply. The cat that wasn?t really such had gotten far too observant for her liking. Her own illusions had settled firmly into shape, it would be interesting to strip them, bare the cat beneath, and replace them. The fact that she might really have to do that hadn?t fully occurred to her yet, it would in time. ?They won?t like what I can do. There will be much trouble when I demonstrate why I have to stay. That magic isn?t evil, and here is why it may be useful.? At ?here? she zipped up the bag, and turned to face her familiar. Today, she?d tweaked the spells so that she looked the opposite of the Diplomat. Ivory skin, long limbed grace. A certain measure of defiance in silver eyes, a bit of an edge that murmured ?danger? to any mind listening.
?The path of most resistance, eh?? Dry humor there, she could almost find it amusing.
?Aye.?
?Are we ready for it??
?Ready doesn?t matter. We have to be.?
With that, Mior crossed back to the bed, grabbing the cloak and eying the knives for a moment before slipping them onto her person. Two in wrist sheathes, two in her boots, one at the small of her back. The loose pants she wore made it an easy matter, as with the soft boots and long sleeved shirt. Clothing plain, light colors. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and stood out against the black of the cloak. Wand in her left hand. A nod to the Cat, and she gestured to the door. ?Let?s go.?
Bags gathered easily between them, the three were light enough, and they were off to find Nicholai.
If they were walking into trouble, let them go with heads held high. They didn?t know it was bigger than they anticipated, any of them, big enough to cause change from the normal-big enough to cause whispers of betrayal.
It didn?t take long for her black cloak to come back out, and wand as well. This kind of travel made her nervous, she?d rather not feel the need to change part way through. Better to wear them and have done, than not and regret it. Sam slipped in. Laid five knives out on her cloak, all sheathed and only a few inches long, and leaned back against the bed to watch her pack one final bag. The half dozen books, in one compartment, jewelery in the other. ?I feel like we?re walking into trouble, Your boy seems to think the same.?
Mior didn?t startle, but she did spare that moment to look over her shoulder at the other woman. ?Yes. We are.? Stated simply. The cat that wasn?t really such had gotten far too observant for her liking. Her own illusions had settled firmly into shape, it would be interesting to strip them, bare the cat beneath, and replace them. The fact that she might really have to do that hadn?t fully occurred to her yet, it would in time. ?They won?t like what I can do. There will be much trouble when I demonstrate why I have to stay. That magic isn?t evil, and here is why it may be useful.? At ?here? she zipped up the bag, and turned to face her familiar. Today, she?d tweaked the spells so that she looked the opposite of the Diplomat. Ivory skin, long limbed grace. A certain measure of defiance in silver eyes, a bit of an edge that murmured ?danger? to any mind listening.
?The path of most resistance, eh?? Dry humor there, she could almost find it amusing.
?Aye.?
?Are we ready for it??
?Ready doesn?t matter. We have to be.?
With that, Mior crossed back to the bed, grabbing the cloak and eying the knives for a moment before slipping them onto her person. Two in wrist sheathes, two in her boots, one at the small of her back. The loose pants she wore made it an easy matter, as with the soft boots and long sleeved shirt. Clothing plain, light colors. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and stood out against the black of the cloak. Wand in her left hand. A nod to the Cat, and she gestured to the door. ?Let?s go.?
Bags gathered easily between them, the three were light enough, and they were off to find Nicholai.
If they were walking into trouble, let them go with heads held high. They didn?t know it was bigger than they anticipated, any of them, big enough to cause change from the normal-big enough to cause whispers of betrayal.