02-12-2018, 05:50 PM
Cogs, oil, broken potion flasks littered the sanitised white room. Magical liquids oozed, pooling over the inorganic workstation at different rates. Some mixed, and others flowed over each other - all with different viscosities. A yellow gas fizzed out of the mixture, the wisps were sucked through metallic grills on the roof slowly clearing the air. And, closer to the sliding glass entrance door, was a young man with a panicked expression on his face. Surely, half the institute had heard the loud resonating BANG from his failure. Especially her. She was visiting today, wasn't she? The child prodigy. Their sponsor. He had to clean up his mess quickly before-
"Mr Hearth." Magic tugged on his collar, dragging him back through the door. It closed behind him with a sharp hiss. High pressures of gas forcing the mechanism shut. "Care to explain why you chose to mix manticore blood, concentrated hydrochloric acid, trinitrothaumicbenzene, crushed ruby, and..." He felt a sharp magical tug on his wrist, spinning him around before he could do so himself. His clenched fist was forced open and the surgical glove pried off revealing a lightly tanned, smooth, unblemished hand - all except for a slight prick on the tip of his finger. "Your own blood."
The voice had been calm and quiet, yet dull. It was high pitched and reminded him of his niece - although her voice was much more lively. This was devoid of tone, not the anger he expected given the forceful use of magic. Somehow, that didn't make him feel any calmer about the whole situation. He shuddered, then realised he'd been staring at empty air for the last few seconds. It was only then he realised he was supposed to look down. Down at the face of a child. He didn't know what he'd been expecting; he knew she was a child but there was a strong difference between knowing something and actually seeing it.
Mismatched youthful eyes looked up at him, patiently waiting for his response. His initial reaction was more suppressed than most, potentially due to his anxiety, but that didn't abate his shock in full. Two long pigtails of gently curling hair flowed down her sides - each was as blue as the sky, darkening gradually closer to her head. They shined slightly in the harsh white lights, flickering around gently and drawing his gaze. Her attire would have held a stronger air of formality if it wasn't so archaic. A black and white frilly knee length dress complete with a tie. Stuttering a little, he studied her face while trying to compose himself. It was like she was sleeping with her eyes open, all tension was gone from her stark-white skin as soft shallow breaths escaped her lips.
"I-I uhh. W-well..."
She remained motionless, frozen in time. Calm and expecting.
He gulped. "I was trying to extract the mana from manticore blood, using my own blood to initialise and the one-three-five-trinitrothaumicbenzene to absorb it. I had a filtration system set up, but..."
"The ruby?"
"The stored mana helps separate the thaumilogical components of the blood - it's restored afterwards."
The girl gently nodded her head, making her hair swing back and forth. "Continue. Send me a full report this weekend."
With that short comment, she spun around and walked away, leaving the scientist baffled and confused. How she'd identified the situation so quickly was a mystery to him. Before he could question it, she was already out of sight.
Viola sighed, sitting down on her favourite chair, the cushions let out a puff air as she gently eased herself into position. Her legs ached. Her mind was numb. What looked like a normal day to everyone else felt like a week to her. Some old people talked about how time flew by. To Viola, it was the opposite. She controlled her perception of time, bent it to her will. She'd lived years in the span of a few days once. It was horrible. A dull endless slog. A dull endless slog she'd had no choice but to initiate - if she hadn't done it, the world would be a very different place. A better place? A worse one? She didn't know.
This was supposed to be her dream - trusted advisor of the crown, owner of the Mages Guild, benefactor of the Institute of Science. People waited on her. People lived their lives for her - she'd known the grandfather of the young aspiring scientist. But, what she really wanted was a friend. Not someone who treated her like a child. Not someone who looked at her like she was a god, princess, or queen. Just someone to talk to. By the time she realised that, it was too late.
The flickering candlelight cast distorted shadows over the rough wooden floor, lapping up at her tights-clad toes. Her tired eyes scanned the spacious room, settling on the pile of notes on her desk. They were old scrunched pieces of parchment, some of the paper was older than she was. Her forgotten project. She was bored. She had things to do, things she wanted to do. Yet she was bored. It was strange. Like a child given too many toys to play with and not knowing where to start - it felt like a chore to try them all. A hobby turned into a job. At times like these, she almost wished she'd truly stayed a kid.
Shrugging gently, she pushed herself to her feet, only to find her world engulfed in white, and a silhouette speaking to her. It looked like a child, similar to herself. A young boy shrouded in a black mist with nothing but a sharply pointed smile. He talked, and she had to listen. Her body wouldn't move. Similar to a dream - it wasn't that she was paralysed, just that the option didn't seem to be available. And yet, it all felt so real. His hold released her, plunging her down, up, sideways and inside-out through space and time. Stumbling, falling, tipping, and flailing.
She screamed, a faint hiss escaped her lips. The same sound as the pressure locks from the laboratory doors. Coughing and spluttering, she rolled out of depths, feeling like something gave her whole being a hard shove before dropping down into a world of white. She fell to the harsh white ground face first. Her hands barely extended in time, her left touching down sooner than the other. Spinning to the side, she flopped down onto her back, laying sideways by the side of an empty fountain. Just like everything else, it was plain white, made of hard glossy granite.
Immediately, she sensed something was wrong. It wasn't the dead white sky. It wasn't the sudden change of scenery. And, it wasn't 'Omni', the being who pulled and shoved her into this place. It was her magic, her mana. All gone. Missing was the flowing roaring stormy ocean inside her. Silence. A dying painful silence - it was only once the music had stopped that she realised how loud it was.
Viola bit her lip. The boy had mentioned 'Omnilium'. Perhaps, she considered, she might be able to replicate her prowess in other ways.
It was then, that she was alerted to the presence of others. An inhuman voice followed by a giggle. 'Balloons?' she wondered. She hadn't been listening enough to hear the context, just odd words and the tone of voice. Carefully prying herself to her shaky feet by using the fountain ledge as a support, her arms trembled, but she took a step closer to the nearer person. He looked colourful, with silly red hair, whereas the others wore white. Naturally, she strode over to him - the circus folk. She'd been a few times, they were funny, and he looked to be one of them. It wasn't long before she was in speaking distance, her speaking distance.
"Hello?" Quiet, and void as the world they were in, her voice spread outwards into a small dome. Hopefully, he'd hear her. It was embarrassing when she had to repeat herself. Anxiously, she looked back to the white-men. Then to the clown again. Eyes flickering between the two, she swooped up her long tails of hair with one hand, hugging them to her chest out of nervousness. Her other hand fiddled with her skirt, playing with the frills and running her fingers through the fabric. If he was stuck here like her, maybe he'd be able to help her. For the first time in centuries, she felt like a child once again. Helpless in a frightful new world.
"Mr Hearth." Magic tugged on his collar, dragging him back through the door. It closed behind him with a sharp hiss. High pressures of gas forcing the mechanism shut. "Care to explain why you chose to mix manticore blood, concentrated hydrochloric acid, trinitrothaumicbenzene, crushed ruby, and..." He felt a sharp magical tug on his wrist, spinning him around before he could do so himself. His clenched fist was forced open and the surgical glove pried off revealing a lightly tanned, smooth, unblemished hand - all except for a slight prick on the tip of his finger. "Your own blood."
The voice had been calm and quiet, yet dull. It was high pitched and reminded him of his niece - although her voice was much more lively. This was devoid of tone, not the anger he expected given the forceful use of magic. Somehow, that didn't make him feel any calmer about the whole situation. He shuddered, then realised he'd been staring at empty air for the last few seconds. It was only then he realised he was supposed to look down. Down at the face of a child. He didn't know what he'd been expecting; he knew she was a child but there was a strong difference between knowing something and actually seeing it.
Mismatched youthful eyes looked up at him, patiently waiting for his response. His initial reaction was more suppressed than most, potentially due to his anxiety, but that didn't abate his shock in full. Two long pigtails of gently curling hair flowed down her sides - each was as blue as the sky, darkening gradually closer to her head. They shined slightly in the harsh white lights, flickering around gently and drawing his gaze. Her attire would have held a stronger air of formality if it wasn't so archaic. A black and white frilly knee length dress complete with a tie. Stuttering a little, he studied her face while trying to compose himself. It was like she was sleeping with her eyes open, all tension was gone from her stark-white skin as soft shallow breaths escaped her lips.
"I-I uhh. W-well..."
She remained motionless, frozen in time. Calm and expecting.
He gulped. "I was trying to extract the mana from manticore blood, using my own blood to initialise and the one-three-five-trinitrothaumicbenzene to absorb it. I had a filtration system set up, but..."
"The ruby?"
"The stored mana helps separate the thaumilogical components of the blood - it's restored afterwards."
The girl gently nodded her head, making her hair swing back and forth. "Continue. Send me a full report this weekend."
With that short comment, she spun around and walked away, leaving the scientist baffled and confused. How she'd identified the situation so quickly was a mystery to him. Before he could question it, she was already out of sight.
Viola sighed, sitting down on her favourite chair, the cushions let out a puff air as she gently eased herself into position. Her legs ached. Her mind was numb. What looked like a normal day to everyone else felt like a week to her. Some old people talked about how time flew by. To Viola, it was the opposite. She controlled her perception of time, bent it to her will. She'd lived years in the span of a few days once. It was horrible. A dull endless slog. A dull endless slog she'd had no choice but to initiate - if she hadn't done it, the world would be a very different place. A better place? A worse one? She didn't know.
This was supposed to be her dream - trusted advisor of the crown, owner of the Mages Guild, benefactor of the Institute of Science. People waited on her. People lived their lives for her - she'd known the grandfather of the young aspiring scientist. But, what she really wanted was a friend. Not someone who treated her like a child. Not someone who looked at her like she was a god, princess, or queen. Just someone to talk to. By the time she realised that, it was too late.
The flickering candlelight cast distorted shadows over the rough wooden floor, lapping up at her tights-clad toes. Her tired eyes scanned the spacious room, settling on the pile of notes on her desk. They were old scrunched pieces of parchment, some of the paper was older than she was. Her forgotten project. She was bored. She had things to do, things she wanted to do. Yet she was bored. It was strange. Like a child given too many toys to play with and not knowing where to start - it felt like a chore to try them all. A hobby turned into a job. At times like these, she almost wished she'd truly stayed a kid.
Shrugging gently, she pushed herself to her feet, only to find her world engulfed in white, and a silhouette speaking to her. It looked like a child, similar to herself. A young boy shrouded in a black mist with nothing but a sharply pointed smile. He talked, and she had to listen. Her body wouldn't move. Similar to a dream - it wasn't that she was paralysed, just that the option didn't seem to be available. And yet, it all felt so real. His hold released her, plunging her down, up, sideways and inside-out through space and time. Stumbling, falling, tipping, and flailing.
She screamed, a faint hiss escaped her lips. The same sound as the pressure locks from the laboratory doors. Coughing and spluttering, she rolled out of depths, feeling like something gave her whole being a hard shove before dropping down into a world of white. She fell to the harsh white ground face first. Her hands barely extended in time, her left touching down sooner than the other. Spinning to the side, she flopped down onto her back, laying sideways by the side of an empty fountain. Just like everything else, it was plain white, made of hard glossy granite.
Immediately, she sensed something was wrong. It wasn't the dead white sky. It wasn't the sudden change of scenery. And, it wasn't 'Omni', the being who pulled and shoved her into this place. It was her magic, her mana. All gone. Missing was the flowing roaring stormy ocean inside her. Silence. A dying painful silence - it was only once the music had stopped that she realised how loud it was.
Viola bit her lip. The boy had mentioned 'Omnilium'. Perhaps, she considered, she might be able to replicate her prowess in other ways.
It was then, that she was alerted to the presence of others. An inhuman voice followed by a giggle. 'Balloons?' she wondered. She hadn't been listening enough to hear the context, just odd words and the tone of voice. Carefully prying herself to her shaky feet by using the fountain ledge as a support, her arms trembled, but she took a step closer to the nearer person. He looked colourful, with silly red hair, whereas the others wore white. Naturally, she strode over to him - the circus folk. She'd been a few times, they were funny, and he looked to be one of them. It wasn't long before she was in speaking distance, her speaking distance.
"Hello?" Quiet, and void as the world they were in, her voice spread outwards into a small dome. Hopefully, he'd hear her. It was embarrassing when she had to repeat herself. Anxiously, she looked back to the white-men. Then to the clown again. Eyes flickering between the two, she swooped up her long tails of hair with one hand, hugging them to her chest out of nervousness. Her other hand fiddled with her skirt, playing with the frills and running her fingers through the fabric. If he was stuck here like her, maybe he'd be able to help her. For the first time in centuries, she felt like a child once again. Helpless in a frightful new world.