18 Saun, 724
.
Kotton was sitting in his grandfather’s study, in his grandfather’s eloquent and elaborate house, surrounded by what seemed to be invaluable decor and even more priceless furniture. He felt if he even breathed on them wrong, they would turn into ash, so he held his breath for the most part of the conversation he was able to make with his relative.
“The university is vast and knowledgeable, sure,” his grandfather, Ardell, began. “But it can never replace tactile experience, especially experience learnt one on one from someone inherently conversant in the subject. You could go to school and take courses, waste your time sitting in on lectures given by professors, but what better way to learn than by actually performing the work yourself?”
Ardell’s face beamed with excitement. It even flourished a mute red colour as he passionately spoke about his perspective on the likes of academics. Kotton, on the other hand, could only sit still in a very uncomfortable chair in front of his grandfather. The chair wasn’t even cushioned- it was a basic wooden seat meant for quick interactions and nothing more, but he wouldn’t comment on it. He was here to learn, to explore and to further himself in the ways of not only academics, not only magic, but in the ways of knowledge about his adoptive ancestry. He had taken a week’s long boat ride to get here, for fuck’s sake! He was not about to return home to Scalvoris without first ticking off each and every mark in his booklet.
“Life is very much the same,” Ardell continued after clearing his throat of some gross clumps of phlegm. “Experience, tactile experience, down to the situation bone experience- that’s where it’s at. If you aren’t at the source of things, you won’t actually understand them. You have to be in the thick of it, in order to understand how things happen. If there’s a fight, you have to be one of the individuals fighting. If there’s a medical emergency, you bet your ass you better be one of the nurses or doctors focusing on the problem.”
At least Kotton could relate to that last bit, but he was still struggling to comprehend the full point of what his grandfather was talking about. Lucky for him, the point was made within moments.
“What I’m trying to say is that you can read and study and test over subjects and theories, but you won’t actually learn anything unless you’re there, in the moment, doing those very things you’ve read and studied and tested about. Which is why I find magic and its disciplines so enticing.”
Kotton’s eyes softened as he gazed into his grandfather’s. He was an extremely passionate man, a man of such purpose, if not a little obsessive, but someone who nonetheless valued things for what they were. If the old saying was true about giving a dog a bone, Ardell would run with it, construct houses with it and eventually build an empire off that singular piece of vertebral calcium.
Kotton remained silent. He didn’t know what to say and even if he did, he would hold his tongue until it was utmost essential he spill any and all questions or concerns he had. He was just happy being in the very same room as his grandfather, the person he had heard about, but hadn’t officially met until now.
“That being said,” Ardell went on. “I am willing to initiate you into the magical discipline of _________.”
Kotton blanched at the statement. So many thoughts traversed his mind as if the fissures in his brain were nothing more than thick roots of a tree a hiker need only to step past. Was this what he truly wanted? Was this the reason for his travels to Viden? Was learning a new discipline of magic actually on his metaphorical blackboard of goals to achieve? He would have to bite his bottom lip until blood drew in order to have any of those questions accurately answered.
“I-I’m sensing a catch,” he barely sputtered, not quite sure when he had chosen to speak, much less say anything at all.
Ardell seemed taken aback. One of his thick, loopy eyebrows shot upward toward his hairline as his eyes narrowed and dialled in to his grandson’s insinuation. He didn’t say anything, though, at least not before Kotton finished his sentence, if there was any sentence left to finish. This made Kotton uneasy, for the silence dragged on far longer than he would have liked. Was he supposed to say something else? Was his remark too open ended? He hadn’t meant to finish it. In fact, he had hoped for his grandfather to step in, take control, and finish his sentence for him. So there lay between the two a stalemate or so it seemed.
Until, “I’m not sure what you mean.” It was Ardell who spoke first.
Kotton clammed up, spitting out nonsense for the next few seconds. “I just- I don’t know what- I mean-”
“If you mean to assume I want anything from you in exchange for my _________- then you’re wrong. I’ve been waiting for this day. I apologise if I never made that apparent.” There was a little attitude in the way he ended his sentence. “I simply want you to become the best you can be, specifically- no, importantly- as my grandson.”
Kotton opened his mouth, but looked like a fish out of water with the way Ardell continued.
“You’re grandfather never wanted to be a part of this. He was not interested in arcane academics. Now, I won’t say he was soft exactly, but he was most certainly not the son I imagined him to be. Now,” he drew his hand up to spread his brow in mild irritation, even though he had fastened a smile to his face. “Whilst I think I’ve said all this already, I ask you, do you want to learn the ways of _______?”
Kotton had already paused and hesitated and wasted enough of his grandfather’s time as it was. He had spent several trials on a boat contemplating this very scenario for fuck’s sake! So what was he waiting for? The invitation was already sent, pasted to the ground just before his feet. Was he interested in becoming initiated or would he tuck tail and turn back to Scalvoris Town where everything was fine and dandy and… routine… and boring… and the same…
“Yes, sir!” he announced, raising his head high so that it met his grandfather’s eccentric eyes.
Ardell smiled and removed his hand from his brow. “That's a boy.” The room never faded into silence as Ardell went on. “Now tell me about your experience with meditation.”
Kotton had picked up on the fast paced answered his grandfather appreciated, so without delay he proclaimed, “not much, sir.”
“Drop the sir, son. I’m a relative.”
Kotton blushed.
“Anyway, lack of meditative practise is alright. For now. But I need you to work on that. For example, do you know how to perform transcendental meditation?”
A blank face was all that was needed for Ardell to scoff.
“Well, transcendental meditation is where you receive a particular mantra, a phrase, that you are to repeat in your mind. Now sit comfortably, eyes closed and repeat this mantra until I say time is up.” Ardell then began to say some words that to Kotton meant absolutely nothing, but sounded like important phrasing in the ancient tongue. Since he didn’t want to disappoint his grandfather any further, he took a cross-legged stance on the floor, closed his eyes and repeated the words he was given.
And he repeated them.
And repeated them.
And repeated them.
Until finally Ardell lifted his lids and called out that the meditative session had finished. “I’m so happy to know you can hear again, you know.”
Kotton blushed again, though he didn’t know how to properly respond, so he didn’t. Ardell seemed to pay no mind as he furthered his impromptu teaching seminar with more information than the young man was able to handle. He didn’t even have his journal on hand!
“Meditation is important for someone disciplined in many magic disciplines. It’s important in general, but I need for you to understand that meditation is like a second head to someone who claims themselves already so powerful. Without meditation, your mind will go wild, it will be without restraint. Like a horse, you need to make sure it is saddled, bridled and controlled by its master- the master being you.”
Still without a journal to write all this down, Kotton was immeasurably awestruck by the amount of philosophical value that was coming out of his grandfather’s mouth. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were blood related what with the similarities they shared.
“Do you understand?”
He nodded his head vehemently, all ready to learn the next thing.
Ardell blew out a sigh of hot air before closing and reopening his eyes. “Now,” he started. “What about discipline? Have you been practising discipline since you’ve been with your dad’s?”
Since Kotton never spoke of his father as ‘dad’ it came off a little silly, but he nonetheless moved his head in the vertical, though he didn’t need to share with his grandfather exactly what he had practised discipline for. Alcohol? Keeping hold of your tongue? Pain? Yeah, no, nothing magical, but discipline was discipline, wasn’t it?
“Great, great,” Ardell mused before suddenly throwing a heavy paperweight at Kotton without any warning. It hit the young man with an audible thud before landing on the wooden floor with a CLUNK. Meanwhile, Kotton stood still, clutching the very arm it had hit with urgency. His tongue was bit between his clenched teeth, but he dared not cry out, much less sour his ordinary expression (at least not without a few minor eye squints and lip frowns). He even kept to himself some explicatory comments even though he wished with all his might to share them.
Ardell smiled, even moved his head back with surprise as he said, “very good. I’m impressed.”
The pain subsided quicker with the compliment than it would have without one, but he was still in so much pain it was hard for him to register what exactly had just been said to him. Still, he carried on with the conversation, attempting to think about the future and the beauty of it (the hopefully less pain it would contain).
“Finally, I want to test your endurance and your strength. These are very essential skills to have not only when undergoing domain magic initiation but when dealing with trial to trial situations that require such magic.”
Kotton opened his mouth to protest, the only action he could make now that he had put down the arm that had been trying to make his other feel less like a trauma victim. But even as he did, he was overridden. His grandfather had no consideration for soft spoken people, even if they were his own grandson.
“I-I don’t have-” he had started to say.
“Endurance is so you can master what you experience for long bouts of time and strength is so you can handle the heft and the mass and the immeasurable likelihood of power that will more than probably fall into your lap one trial.”
“But I- I’m no-”
“Let us begin.”
And with the flick of the hand, Ardell sent a huge mass tumbling towards Kotton. And poor Kotton, he had only worked on his strength with moving unconscious bodies, nothing else. That made him more than inadequate to handle this massive obstruction hurdling his way. His body was sent flying against the back wall.
Ardell grimaced at the display, but made no move to adjust the weight from off his grandson’s body.
Kotton huffed and puffed with the weight of the object. He tried to cling to life by keeping it steady against his most worked muscles- his abdomen, his lower legs and his upper chest. He had to use these muscles daily as a medic and as a nurse, so even though the weight was objectively heavy, he was able to manage. For a time that is. For a time that was until his grandfather called off the weight digging into his sternum.
“So strength isn’t you,” Ardel began. Kotton wanted to ram that mass of training merchandise up his ass until he finished his comment. “But endurance is rather fetching on you.”
Kotton was still trying to gasp for breath so when he heard the word fetching, he couldn’t help but react with a little more than just subtle lividity. “Fetching? You think endurance is fetching on me?”
Ardell threw his hands up, surrender-style, but kept the notorious smile of his on his face. “All I’m saying is that you have a lot to work on in terms of strength, but endurance may be your pal. I see a lot of potential in you.”
Kotton brushed off his person, shirt, pants and all, before using both hands to wrap around his face. He dragged his palms down his cheeks until they reached his chin and inevitably fell to his chest where he laced them together into a makeshift prayer gesture. What was he in for? Would the immortals he worshipped understand? Would they care? Was his interest in additional domain magic hurt his connection with those who so obviously blessed those of worth?
Kotton righted himself, composure found, and confidently stated, “No more tests. I want to be trained on what I know.”
The intimidation in his voice was so apparent, even a deaf person could see it. But that didn’t matter so long as Ardell took notice.
Which he did.
And he smiled. “Perfect. Then I will have you as my pupil.”
“The university is vast and knowledgeable, sure,” his grandfather, Ardell, began. “But it can never replace tactile experience, especially experience learnt one on one from someone inherently conversant in the subject. You could go to school and take courses, waste your time sitting in on lectures given by professors, but what better way to learn than by actually performing the work yourself?”
Ardell’s face beamed with excitement. It even flourished a mute red colour as he passionately spoke about his perspective on the likes of academics. Kotton, on the other hand, could only sit still in a very uncomfortable chair in front of his grandfather. The chair wasn’t even cushioned- it was a basic wooden seat meant for quick interactions and nothing more, but he wouldn’t comment on it. He was here to learn, to explore and to further himself in the ways of not only academics, not only magic, but in the ways of knowledge about his adoptive ancestry. He had taken a week’s long boat ride to get here, for fuck’s sake! He was not about to return home to Scalvoris without first ticking off each and every mark in his booklet.
“Life is very much the same,” Ardell continued after clearing his throat of some gross clumps of phlegm. “Experience, tactile experience, down to the situation bone experience- that’s where it’s at. If you aren’t at the source of things, you won’t actually understand them. You have to be in the thick of it, in order to understand how things happen. If there’s a fight, you have to be one of the individuals fighting. If there’s a medical emergency, you bet your ass you better be one of the nurses or doctors focusing on the problem.”
At least Kotton could relate to that last bit, but he was still struggling to comprehend the full point of what his grandfather was talking about. Lucky for him, the point was made within moments.
“What I’m trying to say is that you can read and study and test over subjects and theories, but you won’t actually learn anything unless you’re there, in the moment, doing those very things you’ve read and studied and tested about. Which is why I find magic and its disciplines so enticing.”
Kotton’s eyes softened as he gazed into his grandfather’s. He was an extremely passionate man, a man of such purpose, if not a little obsessive, but someone who nonetheless valued things for what they were. If the old saying was true about giving a dog a bone, Ardell would run with it, construct houses with it and eventually build an empire off that singular piece of vertebral calcium.
Kotton remained silent. He didn’t know what to say and even if he did, he would hold his tongue until it was utmost essential he spill any and all questions or concerns he had. He was just happy being in the very same room as his grandfather, the person he had heard about, but hadn’t officially met until now.
“That being said,” Ardell went on. “I am willing to initiate you into the magical discipline of _________.”
Kotton blanched at the statement. So many thoughts traversed his mind as if the fissures in his brain were nothing more than thick roots of a tree a hiker need only to step past. Was this what he truly wanted? Was this the reason for his travels to Viden? Was learning a new discipline of magic actually on his metaphorical blackboard of goals to achieve? He would have to bite his bottom lip until blood drew in order to have any of those questions accurately answered.
“I-I’m sensing a catch,” he barely sputtered, not quite sure when he had chosen to speak, much less say anything at all.
Ardell seemed taken aback. One of his thick, loopy eyebrows shot upward toward his hairline as his eyes narrowed and dialled in to his grandson’s insinuation. He didn’t say anything, though, at least not before Kotton finished his sentence, if there was any sentence left to finish. This made Kotton uneasy, for the silence dragged on far longer than he would have liked. Was he supposed to say something else? Was his remark too open ended? He hadn’t meant to finish it. In fact, he had hoped for his grandfather to step in, take control, and finish his sentence for him. So there lay between the two a stalemate or so it seemed.
Until, “I’m not sure what you mean.” It was Ardell who spoke first.
Kotton clammed up, spitting out nonsense for the next few seconds. “I just- I don’t know what- I mean-”
“If you mean to assume I want anything from you in exchange for my _________- then you’re wrong. I’ve been waiting for this day. I apologise if I never made that apparent.” There was a little attitude in the way he ended his sentence. “I simply want you to become the best you can be, specifically- no, importantly- as my grandson.”
Kotton opened his mouth, but looked like a fish out of water with the way Ardell continued.
“You’re grandfather never wanted to be a part of this. He was not interested in arcane academics. Now, I won’t say he was soft exactly, but he was most certainly not the son I imagined him to be. Now,” he drew his hand up to spread his brow in mild irritation, even though he had fastened a smile to his face. “Whilst I think I’ve said all this already, I ask you, do you want to learn the ways of _______?”
Kotton had already paused and hesitated and wasted enough of his grandfather’s time as it was. He had spent several trials on a boat contemplating this very scenario for fuck’s sake! So what was he waiting for? The invitation was already sent, pasted to the ground just before his feet. Was he interested in becoming initiated or would he tuck tail and turn back to Scalvoris Town where everything was fine and dandy and… routine… and boring… and the same…
“Yes, sir!” he announced, raising his head high so that it met his grandfather’s eccentric eyes.
Ardell smiled and removed his hand from his brow. “That's a boy.” The room never faded into silence as Ardell went on. “Now tell me about your experience with meditation.”
Kotton had picked up on the fast paced answered his grandfather appreciated, so without delay he proclaimed, “not much, sir.”
“Drop the sir, son. I’m a relative.”
Kotton blushed.
“Anyway, lack of meditative practise is alright. For now. But I need you to work on that. For example, do you know how to perform transcendental meditation?”
A blank face was all that was needed for Ardell to scoff.
“Well, transcendental meditation is where you receive a particular mantra, a phrase, that you are to repeat in your mind. Now sit comfortably, eyes closed and repeat this mantra until I say time is up.” Ardell then began to say some words that to Kotton meant absolutely nothing, but sounded like important phrasing in the ancient tongue. Since he didn’t want to disappoint his grandfather any further, he took a cross-legged stance on the floor, closed his eyes and repeated the words he was given.
And he repeated them.
And repeated them.
And repeated them.
Until finally Ardell lifted his lids and called out that the meditative session had finished. “I’m so happy to know you can hear again, you know.”
Kotton blushed again, though he didn’t know how to properly respond, so he didn’t. Ardell seemed to pay no mind as he furthered his impromptu teaching seminar with more information than the young man was able to handle. He didn’t even have his journal on hand!
“Meditation is important for someone disciplined in many magic disciplines. It’s important in general, but I need for you to understand that meditation is like a second head to someone who claims themselves already so powerful. Without meditation, your mind will go wild, it will be without restraint. Like a horse, you need to make sure it is saddled, bridled and controlled by its master- the master being you.”
Still without a journal to write all this down, Kotton was immeasurably awestruck by the amount of philosophical value that was coming out of his grandfather’s mouth. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were blood related what with the similarities they shared.
“Do you understand?”
He nodded his head vehemently, all ready to learn the next thing.
Ardell blew out a sigh of hot air before closing and reopening his eyes. “Now,” he started. “What about discipline? Have you been practising discipline since you’ve been with your dad’s?”
Since Kotton never spoke of his father as ‘dad’ it came off a little silly, but he nonetheless moved his head in the vertical, though he didn’t need to share with his grandfather exactly what he had practised discipline for. Alcohol? Keeping hold of your tongue? Pain? Yeah, no, nothing magical, but discipline was discipline, wasn’t it?
“Great, great,” Ardell mused before suddenly throwing a heavy paperweight at Kotton without any warning. It hit the young man with an audible thud before landing on the wooden floor with a CLUNK. Meanwhile, Kotton stood still, clutching the very arm it had hit with urgency. His tongue was bit between his clenched teeth, but he dared not cry out, much less sour his ordinary expression (at least not without a few minor eye squints and lip frowns). He even kept to himself some explicatory comments even though he wished with all his might to share them.
Ardell smiled, even moved his head back with surprise as he said, “very good. I’m impressed.”
The pain subsided quicker with the compliment than it would have without one, but he was still in so much pain it was hard for him to register what exactly had just been said to him. Still, he carried on with the conversation, attempting to think about the future and the beauty of it (the hopefully less pain it would contain).
“Finally, I want to test your endurance and your strength. These are very essential skills to have not only when undergoing domain magic initiation but when dealing with trial to trial situations that require such magic.”
Kotton opened his mouth to protest, the only action he could make now that he had put down the arm that had been trying to make his other feel less like a trauma victim. But even as he did, he was overridden. His grandfather had no consideration for soft spoken people, even if they were his own grandson.
“I-I don’t have-” he had started to say.
“Endurance is so you can master what you experience for long bouts of time and strength is so you can handle the heft and the mass and the immeasurable likelihood of power that will more than probably fall into your lap one trial.”
“But I- I’m no-”
“Let us begin.”
And with the flick of the hand, Ardell sent a huge mass tumbling towards Kotton. And poor Kotton, he had only worked on his strength with moving unconscious bodies, nothing else. That made him more than inadequate to handle this massive obstruction hurdling his way. His body was sent flying against the back wall.
Ardell grimaced at the display, but made no move to adjust the weight from off his grandson’s body.
Kotton huffed and puffed with the weight of the object. He tried to cling to life by keeping it steady against his most worked muscles- his abdomen, his lower legs and his upper chest. He had to use these muscles daily as a medic and as a nurse, so even though the weight was objectively heavy, he was able to manage. For a time that is. For a time that was until his grandfather called off the weight digging into his sternum.
“So strength isn’t you,” Ardel began. Kotton wanted to ram that mass of training merchandise up his ass until he finished his comment. “But endurance is rather fetching on you.”
Kotton was still trying to gasp for breath so when he heard the word fetching, he couldn’t help but react with a little more than just subtle lividity. “Fetching? You think endurance is fetching on me?”
Ardell threw his hands up, surrender-style, but kept the notorious smile of his on his face. “All I’m saying is that you have a lot to work on in terms of strength, but endurance may be your pal. I see a lot of potential in you.”
Kotton brushed off his person, shirt, pants and all, before using both hands to wrap around his face. He dragged his palms down his cheeks until they reached his chin and inevitably fell to his chest where he laced them together into a makeshift prayer gesture. What was he in for? Would the immortals he worshipped understand? Would they care? Was his interest in additional domain magic hurt his connection with those who so obviously blessed those of worth?
Kotton righted himself, composure found, and confidently stated, “No more tests. I want to be trained on what I know.”
The intimidation in his voice was so apparent, even a deaf person could see it. But that didn’t matter so long as Ardell took notice.
Which he did.
And he smiled. “Perfect. Then I will have you as my pupil.”