Author Topic: Crystallized Moments  (Read 4612 times)

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Crystallized Moments
« on: August 10, 2013, 05:34:25 AM »
Over on Beast's Lair, I have (or, more properly, had been) attempting to develop a storyline set in a strand of the Kaleidoscope following after UBW-Good. This story arc has an OC protagonist, who originally didn't have a name. (The first "story" in the series was intended to be a one-shot, and gradually blossomed into a full-length work - and then into the mid-point of a three-part series I never got around to completing.)

At this point, if I ever get back into writing for this series properly, I am half-tempted to essentially re-boot the original portion of the story, since I'm not entirely sure about how it holds up at this point. (Not that I'd say that any of this series is worth your time, but I guess the evolution of the broader story arc raises questions about the original chain of events which I find myself wondering how to answer.)

So, for now, I want to start slowly on these boards, and only post up what exists for this portion of the storyline. (I may or may not post what I have for the other parts anyway, but I haven't quite decided on that just yet.)


To re-iterate, this work, along with the others in the same timeline, are intended to incorporate the Good ending of the Unlimited Blade Works route from F/SN.


Part 1


I don't remember all that much from my time in the classroom. While being there took up the bulk of my time during most days, the actual contents of each class, or rather the way in which the conversations there might have gone back and forth, are beyond my recollection.

While, in one sense, it was a relief to be there (something which might have surprised most of the other students present, who were, I guess, had less of a reason to not mind the time spent there) it was never the highlight... or lowest point... of my daily routine.

There are only a few things I can remember; one of them, during a geography lesson (or was it world history? I'm not too sure). Someone in the class made a comment about always getting
'airurando' and 'aisurando' mixed up.

At the time, I didn't think much of it; they both seemed to be quite far away.


------


November 11, 2003


"Look like he's here already."

As Seonac Ó'Conaill stepped out into the roof garden atop the Chester Beatty Library building, he looked over to see the man to whom his current travel companion, Bláthnaid Ní hAodha, was referring.

At the end of the garden, the man had been looking out towards Dublin Castle, which stood to one side of the larger garden at the foot of the building. The viewpoint from the CBL allowed one to see as far as the Castle on one side, and to the old Coach House on the other; the latter converted into a modest, yet respectable venue. There was not overly much to see beyond this from the rooftop vantage point, and even then one had to go to the edge of the garden to look over the short wall at its edge; still, there was always the sky... when it wasn't overcast, at least.

"Ah, Mr. Ó'Conaill, I presume?" the man smiled and waved, as he walked across the garden to greet Seonac and Bláthnaid in person.

For a second, Seonac wanted to look over his shoulder, to see if the man was somehow referring to an elder member of his family. "Seonac is fine, sir; and you are..."

"Oh, of course, sorry," the man stopped himself, just as he literally came to a stop in front of the two arrivals. "I thought Florence here -"

"Bláthnaid," the woman pointed out; somewhat cross at the prospect of explaining her preference towards using the Irish, rather than English, version of her given name.

The man raised a hand in apology. "Sorry, Bláthnaid; I'm still having a bit of trouble trying to get used to Irish Gaelic names. You'd think growing up in Nova Scotia would have helped with that..."

Well, Seonac thought to himself, at least he's not calling me Jonathan. "Wouldn't they have more of that other type of Gaelic, anyway?"

"Scots, yeah, a little," the man replied, "but not so much in Halifax compared to..."

After stopping himself again, he simply offered an outstretched hand. "Micheal mac Coinnich, at your service."

Seonac took the offered hand; the first formal introduction between himself and the man known more commonly as Michael Mackenzie. While Seonac was somewhat relieved at not letting things get too side-tracked during this phase of the conversation (an all too common occurrence when meeting new people, he found) his relative lack of eye contact prevented him from noticing a faint glimpse of not-quite-normal activity in the other man's gaze.

"Did you make it over to Dublin Airport in good time, Mr. mac Coinnich?" Bláthnaid asked. She had been the most recent psychologist to take on Seonac's somewhat unorthodox case over the course of the past two months; what few realised was the nature of some of her less-than-public acquaintances.

"Oh, Mike is fine," he offered, as he moved to shake her hand in turn. "I actually flew in via Belfast; the way the travel itinerary worked out, I ended up taking the Enterprise train down to Connolly Station; then after getting myself acquainted with my hotel, here I am!"

"How did you find the trip down?" wondered Seonac, who had been up to Belfast on occasion.

"Very interesting contrast, I found," Mike offered. "Up there, the roads, footpaths, signage and so on all look a lot more like what you'd see in many parts of Britain; plus it was very hilly terrain, I found. Once I crossed the border, everything got a lot flatter, and here the colour of the tarmac and so forth have a different hue. Very interesting, how those kind of things can affect the way you perceive a place."

Seonac nodded in agreement. He had noticed a palpable difference when being on either side of the border; yet he had never quite been able to put a finger on exactly what he was picking up on. At least, before any of the locals on either side started talking.

"And, of course, I saw a lot more people wearing something like this, too," he added, pointing to the red-and-black poppy he was wearing.

"For Remembrance Day?" Bláthnaid asked. She wasn't too accustomed to seeing many locals in Dublin wear one; though the ones she did see on occasion looked somewhat different.

"Yep," Mike nodded, "though this one is from the Royal Canadian Legion, not the British one. I can get then at the High Commission while I'm in London; I guess the embassy here would have something similar, too. In fact:"

At this, he opened his wallet and produced something neither Bláthnaid nor Seonac had seen before; a 10-dollar Canadian note. "They started printing these a few years back. They have the poppy on the back there, along with a quote in English and French from old Sir John McCrae himself. Oh, and a blue beret taking a peek at the Peace Tower in Ottawa; to show the peacekeeping aspect of the day for those Canadians with a mind not to forget."

Seonac held the note in his hand, almost getting himself used to the idea of money with a person's face on the front (in this case, Sir John A. Macdonald, the first Prime Minister of Canada); the euro notes in his own wallet had more abstract buildings and bridges on them.

"Anyway," Mike said, before he got too far down this side track. "I don't suppose we're here to talk about roads and stop signs. Maybe we could take a seat out here and get things going?"

After handing back the note, Seonac walked over with Mike and Bláthnaid to a pair of adjacent benches to one side of the garden; Bláthnaid sitting to one side of Seonac on the first bench, while Mike took a seat on the next one over, turning to face the other two.

After they sat down, Seonac paused to try and collect his thoughts for a moment; he noticed that for some reason, they felt more at ease than they had been in a while. "So, I'm told that you are a specialist, and that you may be able to help me?"

Mike couldn't help but smile at that. So, she really hasn't told you, he thought to himself. Well, I can't leave that un-addressed much longer. "I might, depending on what it is you want to do going forward; but before we deal with anything else, there is one question I need to ask you."

To emphasise the point, he looked straight over to the younger Irishman, before he asked simply:

"Can you hear voices in your head?"

Seonac gasped in response, shocked both at the manner of question, and the way in which he had 'heard' it. Mike had not opened his mouth to speak, yet Seonac heard it as clear as day.

"I thought as much," Mike said, not needing to hear an answer to know the message had gotten across.

Bláthnaid, for the first time, revealed a card from her own proverbial deck, in terms of knowledge of the supernatural. "I wish it hadn't taken this long to nail it down, but I'm glad my guess was accurate."

"Guess?" Seonac replied, still coming to terms with the turn of events. "You... I... I mean, I hadn't said anything... I thought I..."

"Was going mad?" Mike stepped in, offering a more conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry it wasn't something you were prepared for, but yes, it's true; you have a gift, and a pretty rare one at that."

Seonac found himself wondering just how grateful he was supposed to be for this 'gift' Mike spoke of. "In other words..."

"In other words, Seonac," Bláthnaid responded: "You're a magus, and a telepathic one at that."

A magus... He was no more prepared to hear that his less-fearful thoughts in the wake of that terrible day in September were justified than he had been when his mind's eye had been pried open on his sixteenth birthday. And yet, a part of him found a degree of currency when taking the term 'magus' on board.

Magus... Magus... Magus...

"I am a magus." He said the words aloud; and strangely enough, the words seemed to fit.

"For the sake of disclosure, I am also a magus," Bláthnaid spoke to reassure him. "Although, my specialty is more to do with alchemy than the stuff you have going on in your mind."

Mike took his offered cue. "I, on the other hand, am another teep, like you. We aren't that common, so those of us who are more established try to help out those magi who do manifest the talent."

Seonac paused to consider this; though perhaps more out of a wish to channel the dozens of questions bombarding the inner walls of his mind at the revelation than the need to process what had already been said. "There are more of us; more magi, and more telepaths, I mean?"

"Yes and yes, though many more of the one than the other," Mike replied. "We are each part of a group known as the Mage's Association; I'm typically based in a branch of the Clock Tower, near the site of the British Museum over in London, while Bláthnaid is affiliated with Atlas, based down in Egypt."

Neither Mike nor Bláthnaid rushed to mention the often troubled set of relations between these two nominally-associated Great Branches of the Association; neither felt the need to go too deeply into the politics of thaumaturgy too quickly.

"Ordinarily, we might have tried to look after you ourselves," Bláthnaid tried to explain, "but given your manifestations, I felt it best to call in someone with a specialty closer to yours; especially since you're a first-gen."

"First-gen?" Seonac wondered, surprised to hear his condidition described in such terms.

"Yeah, a lot of magus families go back several generations," Mike added. "That makes it easier for a parent to pass on their knowledge, experience and training from one generation to the next. For example, both my brother David and I are magi, and teeps to boot; though I was the one to get this."

'This' was deomonstrated as Mike lifted up his left forearm, calling forth the embedded runes of his Magic Crest. Seonac was astonished by their aethyric glow, but immediately found himself wondering about the wisdom of such a spectacle in this place. "Um... is it a good idea to be doing that here?"

Mike smiled again. "Oh, we're fine; there are a few tricks of the trade I can teach you... depending on..."

"Depending on?" Seonac asked.

Mike looked over to Bláthnaid for a moment, then back to Seonac himself. "Depending on what choice you make."

Bláthnaid understood what Mike was referring to; though she had not dealt with first-gens enough to feel overly comfortable with offering the choice herself. Still, she felt bound by her sense of responsibility towards the youth to play her role, if she needed to.

"If you were in an established family, the choice would probably have already been made for you," Mike went on, "but since you are a newly-emergent magus, and a late bloomer at that, you have a choice."

"Most magi manifest their talents at a much younger age," Bláthnaid added, "or at least are trained in the family business long before they even hit pubescence."

"Oh, so no pressure, then," Seonac sighed. It was bad enough for him to feel behind the curve socially compared to most of his peers; perhaps a consequence of his having Asperger Syndrome (which Bláthanid herself had recently diagnosed), though not something he liked hiding behind a condition to explain. The thought of being adrift in this new world couldn't help but leave a sinking feeling in its wake.

"Don't worry about it lad," Mike offered. "One way or another, you'll have to take things at your own pace, anyway."

"Okay..." Seonac replied, unsure what to make of that reassurance.

"If you want, Bláthnaid and I can try to seal your powers in," Mike moved on to the nub of the present matter. "You'll forget what happened here today, and assuming we can get a handle on things without too much trouble, you can try to go on and live your life as a normal human being."

"Or as close to one as I'd ever be, I guess," Seonac half-countered. "You don't sound too confident you'll be able to stop it, though."

"Not a hundred percent safely," Bláthnaid pointed out. "Plus, even if you don't know you have sorcerous potential, there are other who might be able to find out; not all of them are as accommodating as we would be towards your well-being."

"Yeah, there is that," Mike sighed, the remark hitting close to home. "There are some in the more estranged part of my own family who wouldn't lift a finger to help if... Well, it's not like there aren't risks of a purely mundane nature in life, too."

"And if I don't take the blue pill?" Seonac asked, not quite picturing the fair-skinned Mike in the role of a real-life Morpheus.

"Then you have a chance to do something more with your life." Mike tried to sound as even-handed with the offer as he was technically supposed to, but it was palpably clear which option he preferred Seonac take.

"Look, I'm not sticking to the script on this one," he went on, "but, seriously, lad; take this on. I know it might sound daunting to step into the brave new world right now, but you won't be going in alone. You have a power that few in the world ever even imagine having; and are part of a pretty cool subset, at that."

"So you say," Bláthnaid quipped, not able to hold back on a little dig at the Nova Scotian's expense.

"So I say!" Mike countered defiantly. "And so should you, Seonac."

It was a lot to ask. Only moments after discovering the first pieces of the puzzle regarding his inner nature, with only a light sprinkling of information about the kind of life which might await him were he to accept this challenge; it would have been all too easy to hesitate, or hold back. However, in Seonac's mind, he couldn't help but feel that even if his mind had never opened itself the way it had, he would never find the kind of opportunity to make something of his life in the 'mundane' world.

Well, maybe I'm being too hard on myself with that,
he thought, but then self-confidence hasn't quite been my strong point.

Still, before he could make a decision, he had to ask one more thing. "If I say yes, what can I tell my family? I mean, I'm guessing the Association you speak of doesn't take too kindly to publicity."

"No, it really doesn't," Mike admitted, "but there are members of magus families who have no sorcerous ability. Some of them marry into the family, while others are from a generation which, for whatever reason, has seen their potential dry up."

Bláthnaid had thought of this already, since she already knew Seonac's parents. "Since you are technically founding your own magus lineage with this, you would, in principle, be in a position to entrust the truth with those among your blood lineage that you see fit. If you want to keep it from them, you are entitled to do so; but I won't tell on you if you want to disclose in private."

"Neither will I," Mike promised, with his hand up in the air to emphasise the point.

Taking in their clarification, Seonac took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he looked around at the rock garden surrounding him. For some unspecified reason, he seemed to feel more aware of it than he had been hitherto; as if looking at the setting for the first time.

It was this kind of clarity, of inner calm, which he had craved during his recent ordeal.

Throwing it away was out of the question.

He stood up, taking a couple of steps into the rock garden before turning back to both Mike and Bláthnaid.

His relaxed smile, his look of fresh confidence, the faint glimmer of hope in his emerald-green eyes; they showed only one conclusion.

"I'm in."
« Last Edit: August 10, 2013, 05:42:53 AM by Nerroth »

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #1 on: August 10, 2013, 05:35:37 AM »
Part 2


She was so beautiful.

When she emerged out of the void in the midst of the summoning circle, I could not help but feel taken aback at how...

...how even now, I am left struggling to find the words to describe her.

We had never met before; I had no reason to call her friend, or family, or even associate.

Yet, when she stepped forth into this era of existence, I immeditately felt a sense of deep kinship with her; as if she bore a tragedy which had somehow compelled her to reach out to me.

I wonder, then; did she already know?

As the others in the room looked upon her covetously, was she taken by surprise, or was she already aware...

...that I, her Master...

...was going to betray her?



------


January 29, 2004


"Getting the hang of things, lad?"

Mike looked in to the study room where Seonac was standing, the latter's hand tracing an intricate mandala upon a wall with his left hand. As he did so, he held up a small amulet with an elaborate cartouche carved upon it; its faint glow of energy providing the catalyst for activation which he, as yet, could not.

Seonac remained focussed on the last part of his present task; whispering the memorised incantation as he completed the hidden mandala forming as much within his own mind, as it was upon the physical surface before him.

He exhaled carefully as the chant was completed, before opening his eyes and turning to his mentor. "Sorry, you were saying?"

Mike gave a sort of half-smile half-shrug, which Seonac saw often when he was trying to convey his thoughts on something both promising and troubling. "Well, I am glad you are getting the hang of that little trick; still, once you master it, you will have to learn how to keep your wits about you while using it."

"Easy for you to say," Seonac sighed. It had taken long enough to get this far, with this one spell... that wasn't even his own. "I just wish I didn't need these to make the thing work."

"Hey, don't knock the style of our Atlas colleagues," Mike reminded him. "If it wasn't for their ways of doing things, you'd -"

At that, he had to stop himself, before he said something to reinforce the sense of trouble his current protégé had with his own gifts... or lack thereof.

"Be able to do nothing at all, despite all of this supposed potential you say I've got?" Seonac replied sharply, reaching that conclusion all the same. "I'm sorry I'm having to rely on a trick which I can't use any of my own prana supply for, since I'm..."

His mood lowered a little, the amulet resting somewhat more loosely in his hand.

"I'm sorry, lad", Mike offered in response. "I wish I knew what was going on, I really do. But even so, until we figure things out, having Bláthnaid's gifts on hand are at least something."

"You're right..." Still holding the amulet in his hand, Seonac reached for the other amulet he had on his person; integrated into his wrist watch, or rather his impromptu pocket watch, since he wasn't actually wearing it on his wrist.

"Especially with that one," Mike pointed to the watch-bound sigil. "You'll need it, and the spares you have lying around, to make sure you don't get unwanted attention in the interim."

The amulet and spares in question were designed to shield Seonac's true level of sorcerous potential; a means of mitigating the dangers of being an Average One who couldn't use their own potential... yet could still be at risk of having their reserves poached by a less-than-friendly other.

"Well, so you say, but right now I'm finding these to be of more use." He referred to the one he had used while creating the wall-mandala; they were designed to work in tandem with the mental training Mike had offered, as a means of 'mind-proofing' a room from stray neural impulses emanating beyond it. In truth, the skill was as much a means of allowing the user to envision such a barrier in their own internal mental space, as it was to literally create a physical barrier beyond it; in any case, the cumulative effect was a positive one.

"You might be able to relax in here while they are up, lad," Mike pointed out, "but even if you make sure to manage the upkeep properly, don't get too reliant on them."

Seonac sighed again. "I know, I know."

"Anyway," Mike then said, "I didn't come here to rain on your parade. I'm actually here..."

He dragged a box he had resting on the floor outside of the room and handed it over to the younger magus. "...to give you these."

Seonac took the box, and was surprised to see what was inside it. "Is this all..."

"Yep," Mike replied cheerfully. "That's the two hardback volumes of Canada: A People's History, along with the four DVD box sets; oh, and there should be a soundtrack CD in the box for volume 3. I hope you don't mind, but I opened one of the boxes already to make sure the disc works here in Region 2; you'll be glad to know it does."

The series in question had been a rare joint commission between the English-language Canadian Broadcasting Corporation and the francophone Société Radio-Canada; an effort to jointly tell their version of the intricate story of the country from prehistory to the dawn of the 1990s. Mike had been a fan of it from its very first airing, and hoped he could pass on some degree of enthusiasm for the place through this gift.

But then, there was another aspect to this occasion which was less positive.

"This is a lot to give, thank you," Seonac replied, "but my birthday's in September, it's a bit late for Christmas, and I'm not quite sure how I'd feel about things if it's supposed to be an early V-"

"Sigh," Mike stepped in quickly. "Trust me, lad; I'm quite sure about how neither you nor I would want that particular interpretation of things!"

Seonac game a mock sigh of relief. Of course he didn't need to be told, but the occasion seemed to call for the joke in any case. "Just as well... but there's still the issue of what this is in aid of."

"Ah, well." Mike didn't particularly look forward to this next part, but it had to be said. "I suppose you could think of it... as a going-away present."

Seonac stopped for a second. "You're leaving Ireland?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah. Waver's got something for me; some sort of new assignment. Not sure what he has in mind just yet, but I'll find out when I get there."

Seonac remained silent for a few moments. He knew it was only a matter of time before Mike was called upon to look after other matters; there were other emergents he would have to check in on, after all. Still, he couldn't help but feel unprepared for the departure.

"I understand," he said, at length. "I'm glad for the time you have been able to spend here, helping me get up and running. All the same, I... I'm not sure I'm ready to get by on my own."

"I would be, lad," Mike affirmed. "Even leaving aside the somewhat minor point of order in that Bláthnaid will still be around to look after you, I think you've already got the building blocks in hand to get as far as you need to go before you get over to us in London."

Seonac still had to graduate first, but he was already aware that the Clock Tower beckoned; he hoped the likes of the Waver person Mike seemed to work with there could help find answers... or at least help him get by if none could be found. "Will you be over again before I'm ready to fly in?"

"I'll do what I can," Mike said in reply, "but I can't speak for what's going to happen once I leave."

"Well, that's a reassuring thought," Seonac sighed. The dangers of life as a magus already seemed all too uncomfortable a set of prospects.

"Look," Mike pointed out, "there are still plenty of 'mundane' problems to be faced with, even without the things we deal with in our line of work. You just have to do what you can, try to keep your wits sharp, and hope you can make a difference."

While these lessons were important to take on, Seonac was more concerned with what kind of fate his mentor might run into. "Are you going to be alright, Mike?"

After a pause, Mike simply said: "Time will tell, Seonac. Time will tell."

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #2 on: August 10, 2013, 05:36:12 AM »
Part 3


The seihai sensou had passed; leaving more in its wake than I had imagined.

That is not to say I was overly expecting much of anything in particular to happen; quite the opposite. Rather than have anything to hope for, all there was in my mind was the fear; that which took root the moment I realised who, to my horror, had been involved in the conflict.

That, and the regret... that the Servant I had brought forth, before abandoning her to the whims of another, might never be able to forgive me.


In the event, I wept as I lost the chance to right the grave wrong I had done her; tears I had to hide, compounding the burden of lies I had to bear for the sake of...


Still, I thought, I should be happy;
sempaihad survived, as had nee-sa... Tohsaka-sempai, and her new Servant. Whatever happened to Nii-san had stopped him from trying to... and Grandfather had been keeping to himself, his attention turned in another direction.

I should have been happy.


I was still there; at the Emiya-
tei, spending time with others, surrounded by people who, at least, could be glad to see me.


After all, so far as the nature of my own relationships in that place went, nothing had changed.


But in truth, as I saw
sempai and nee-san move closer and closer, a part of me I did not wish to acknowledge knew all too well...


...that everything had changed.


------


August 09, 2005


"Welcome back, Seonac," Bláthnaid offered, as the former stepped into her office. "You may as well take the view in; it's the last you'll see of it in a while."

While the view from the small window facing the nearby street was modest, the point she was referring to had more to do with the wider import of this, his last meeting here before the big move.

"To be honest, it still doesn't feel real," he admitted, as he took his seat across from Bláthnaid's own. "The moving, I mean. Of course, logically I know that it's about to happen, but it's still hard for me to, well... see it, in my mind."

As she sat down in turn, Bláthnaid gestured with her right hand in an it-happens-more-often-than-you'd-think expression. "I'm sure it'll be real enough once you get there; but while you are still here, we should try to go over some of the things I want you to keep in mind when you get on that plane."

"Understood," he nodded. He took a notepad and pen out of his bag, hoping to not ruin the notes he was going to take with the kind of less-than-clear handwriting his left hand often produced. I need to get a PDA or something, he sighed inwardly, before returning to the conversation at hand.

"Right, let's see..." Bláthnaid placed her elbows on the armrests and put her hands together, pressing the tips of her index fingers to her lips. Her eyes closed for a moment, as she brought the topics she wanted to go over to her mind.

It didn't take long for the first to arise. "Okay. These aren't in any particular order, so if there are topics we don't get to cover in the time we have, I'll send you notes on the other stuff later on. Try not to think that all you need to worry about is what you and I are going to get to talk about in this room today."

"Duly noted," he replied.

"Good, good," she followed up with. "Now, the thing I wanted to talk to you first was about the issue of double disclosure. Well, triple, perhaps, but I'll get to that."

"Get to..." he wondered aloud, as he made the first notes on the page.

Bláthnaid held out a hand, pressing the tips of her thumb and index finger together. "First disclosure; that you're an aspie."

Then, she moved the thumb to press against her middle finger. "Second; that you're a magus."

After this, her ring finger. "Third; that you've had dealings with someone from another Great Branch."

"Oh, you mean with this?" he asked, reaching for the Atlas-derived sigil inscribed on his wrist-slash-pocket watch.

"Well, in theory, it's not that big a deal," she tried to explain, "on paper, Atlas and the Clock Tower are on the same side, so to speak. It's not like there aren't Atlasians in areas nominally affiliated to the Tower, and vice versa; you'd probably find at least one or two on exchange programs within the walls of the Clock Tower itself."

"Even so," she warned, "things aren't always friendly, and to be honest it's not like there aren't Atlas-ians who might be ill-disposed towards you, just as the case might be for the odd Clockie or two. Or three or..."

Seonac wasn't thrilled at the thought of that. "But wouldn't they tell if I were to try and mind-proof my dorm wall, or if they see the inscription on my watch?"

"You should try and look after your wards' upkeep when no-one's around to take a peek," she pointed out, "and if you keep your watch in your pocket, you should be fine. Or rather, if you are in the situation that keeping someone away from your watch is a handful, you might have bigger problems than worrying about what they might see on there."

Seonac shook his head at this, trying not to let any second thoughts about the upcoming move get too much momentum. "So why am I going into the lion's den again?"

"It's not that bad," she countered with a short wave of a hand. "There are things you can't account for, but the same would be true with 'mundane' life, too. But just because you might get caught in a traffic accident doesn't mean you shouldn't leave the house."

"Because the house could burn down itself anyway," he added, somewhat more quickly than he might have wanted to.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. Disclosures. When it comes to your vocation as a magus, and the handful of Atlas tricks I've taught you, it pays to be careful; but the fact of you being there will make the former less of an issue, though revealing too much about what you can, or can't, do may well be."

"Even so," she wanted to add, "you are bound to find at least some people with whom you can place your trust, and who would want to place their trust in you, in turn. If, or rather when, that happens, you don't have to rush to say too much, but it can help to try and talk it through at least gradually."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked her. "The finding good people, I mean..."

"There are good people out there," she assured him, "and ones who would be as willing to make new connections as you would be. That's not to say things would run smoothly, but trust me; it will happen."

"I'll see what I can do..." he replied. Like the wider issue of the move itself, trying to account for what kind of friendships he may be able to establish in London, when he hadn't even met any of those who would be there (or who would go there from their own corners of the globe) seemed less than natural.

"Which brings me to the other disclosure..." At this, she turned the screen on her counter top to face him; the web browser showing the home page of the UK's National Autistic Society.

"That name..." Seonac half-said. While he had tried to come to terms with Asperger Syndrome in the wake of his earlier diagnosis, there was still an involuntary sense of discomfiture at the sight of the other, shorter 'A' word. It was neither logical nor rational; but it wasn't too easy to shrug off. "You think I should go talk to them?"

"Probably," she answered. "I can give you a couple of names of people I know of in the city, but neither or those are magi. You'd be able to talk about dealing with the condition with them, but it won't be the same as it is with me."

"And talking to a magus counselor who may not specialise in Aspergers might not be ideal either," he added, "let alone talking to people inside or outside of the Clock Tower about it."

"No-one should feel ashamed about disclosing," she said to him. "You are no more or less of a person for being an aspie, and you should never let yourself feel that. But at the same time, there are ways and means when it comes to who you might want to disclose to, and how you might want to say it."

"So, try to avoid the usual, then," he answered, "saying either 500 words, or none at all, when only 20 are sufficient?"

"Only if they are the right 20," she pointed out. "When there are topics which need those 500 words, that's okay, but it's important to gauge the context in which to use them. Not everyone's willing to engage in a full-on discussion at the drop of a hat."

"And when it comes to explaining the syndrome," she added, "take Simon Baron-Cohen's cues; not least the part about folk physics versus folk psychology."

"So, say something like: 'in a so-called neurotypical mind, there's more of a balance between the logical 'folk physics' and intuitive 'folk psychology' sides of things; whereas for AS, the first part is comparatively larger than the second.' Something like that?"

She hemmed and hawed a bit at how he was saying it, but more out of application than principle. "Sort of. I'm sure you can think of something to go with; it's not like you should have a pre-prepared script, anyway. It will depend on who you are talking to, what they may or may not already know, and what kind of mindset they may have that you might have to deal with."

After a short pause, Seonac looked down at the page before him; still not quite as full as he might have liked them to be. "Okay."


"Look Seonac, I know you aren't in a position to take all of this on board right now," she admitted, "but I still want you to try and take some of this woth you, sit down, read it over, and work on making more sense on it then than you might be able to now. Patience is it own reward... which leads me to another topic I wanted to deal with."

"Which one?" he asked her, not quite sure what to expect.

At this, she smiled a little. "Which one indeed."

She opened a second tab on the browser; one leading to a set of guidelines offered on the website of the NHS. Seonac blushed a little when he realized what they were for.

"You shouldn't feel embarrassed," she tried to assure him. "It's important to bear these kinds of things in mind; I can't stress this enough."

"Look, it's not that..." he struggled to say. "The kind of thing on there is not a problem in and of itself, it's just..."

"...you feel it won't matter anyway?" She was all too aware of his lack of confidence in terms of forming a more-than-friends kind of relationship, at this stage of his life at least. "You're really going to have to grow out of that side of yourself, Seonac."

She decided to pre-empt any talk about how things had been to this point; tit would be counter-productive to the message she wanted him to carry going forward. "You might not believe it now, but I'm telling you; one day or another, you will find a girl who you like, that will like you in turn. And I don't mean just like-as-a-friend like, but I-want-to-be-with-you like. Though, it's usually good if you are friends with your partner, of course!"

"When that happens," she went on, "the number one rule I can offer is this; be patient. When it comes to trying to get to know each other, to planning how to spend time together, to seeing how compatible you are, even - no, especially - should the two of you become intimate... do not rush things, or jump to conclusions, or let things get to you the way they shouldn't.

If things aren't meant to be, or not meant to last, that happens; but you owe it to her, and to yourself, to give things enough time and space to see what may grow between you.

And for God's sakes, man, use protection."

"Well, I mean, I..." he wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be talking to a would-be partner about that sort of thing.

"Seonac," she stated flatly, "it's the goddamned 21st century, much as some of the stuffier sods in the Clock Tower might wish it were still the 19th. Trust me, you are going to want to talk about that with your partner; not just about birth control, but in terms of keeping a lid on infections."

She reminded him of a tragedy in their own country. "You can ask any of the victims at the Lindsay Tribunal how you can get HIV from a tainted blood transfusion; even if you never exchange certain fluids with someone carrying the virus. Would you want to end up bringing a girl back to the Ó'Conaill house with a child in her belly, and the lot of you taking cocktails of pills to try and ward off AIDS for the rest of your lives?"

The tennis enthusiast within him thought of another sad example; the loss of Arthur Ashe to the consequences of another tainted transfusion. He had held his peace about what had happened for several years, but did much to highlight the condition in the last year of his life. "I understand."

"Get yourself regularly screened, in any case," she insisted. "They have the National Health Service; there's no excuse not to make use of it. And not just your blood; your overall health. It all matters."

After noting as many details as he could on the paper, he thought of something she had once said to him in an earlier session. "What is that old line you said to me again?"

"'Amateurs think about tactics; real professionals think about logistics'." A military proverb she had picked up from an old friend, but one which she found applicable in civilian life, too. "Set the building blocks in place, do the right things well and often, and it will be more likely to pay off than not."

"I'll see what I can do," he tried to assure her... or, perhaps, himself.

"Not quite as enthusiastic a response as I'd like, but better than nothing," she allowed.


After a further spot of note-making, he looked up; feeling a sense of sadness creeping up on him that he hadn't quite been ready to confront to this point. "I don't know if I've said it, but..."

She smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Seonac. I'm going to miss you, too. But I'll still be around, it's only a short flight back over, and you'll be entering a whole new phase of your life; so don't worry."


"Thank you." Two simple words, which for once concisely conveyed the sense of deep gratitude and gratefulness which he felt; not just the understanding and acceptance she had offered him from the outset, but the foundations she had helped him set ever since.


"You're going to be 18 soon," she reminded him; his birthday was just over a month and change away. "But before you even get to that day, before you even get on that plane next week, do this:

Believe in yourself; that you are going to be a good man.

The rest... is for Fate to decide."

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #3 on: August 10, 2013, 05:37:52 AM »
Part 4


It was the silence.

I had been at the Emiya-
tei by myself before, on more than one occasion. At the time, I seemed to find at least one thing to focus my mind on, to the point that I hardly noticed the lack of sound around me.

Or, maybe... that wasn't it. Maybe it was more like the peace and quiet I found there was in such contrast to what awaited me back at the Matou residence, that I found it to be more of a relief than anything.

I'm not sure which was true; maybe they both were.

Things had been different after the
seihai sensou, of course; now the Matou-tei was quiet, save for the occasional weak greeting that nii-san would make when he passed by, or the shuffling I would hear once in a while when Grandfather was going to and from... wherever he was taking himself recently.

Up until last month, it had been the opposite; the Emiya-
tei was filled with sound, or so it seemed to me at least.

It had reached a crescendo last month, as the final preparations for the departure came to pass.

Even so, while voices carried to and fro, while footsteps left their aural imprint upon the wooden floors, while the air was charged with the efforts of the living... it didn't feel like it was really happening.

It was only then, after I had left the airport to wish them well on their new journey, after I stepped into this place for the first time, after Fujimura-
sensei went on her own way home...

...that the silence hit me.


Sempai, nee-san and Saber-san were going to London.

And all that was left in their wake was silence.


------


BGM: Trevor Morris - Anne's Premonition

The creature stood in a clearing in the midst of the darkened jungle, its left claw-like hand locked in a vice-like grip around the throat of its most recently-deceased victim, its feral eyes taking in the sight of the full moon surrounded by the glittering stars in the clear night sky above.

It had staked a claim to surroundings such as this before; in other parts of the world, seeking prey among any number of potential victims; all but a few able to even summon a weak murmur, let alone to scream, in order to give voice to their terror.

It had no fear of any mortal being on this Earth; and held little regard for most of its immortal kindred, for that matter. Few individuals, of either bent, had attempted to lay this entity low; none had been left with more than a broken, drained carcass left as an example for others
not to follow. Such efforts had caused certain members of its most favoured prey-species to place it upon the list of their kind’s most dire foes; though it chafed at the position it had been granted among those it grudgingly referred to as its “peers”.

And yet…

It had seen into the mind of this latest prey; one who had stood apart from the others of his kind who had been escorting, or perhaps shepherding, him in the last moments before their mutual demise. There, in the surprisingly less-than-shallow recesses of the victim’s consciousness, it had found an unseen filament tying it to some other presence in this land. Something different, foreign,
alien, was nearby; almost as if it lay in waiting, for any who dared encroach upon its sovereignty.

The creature, casting the hollowed-out shell to one side, turned its head towards what it sensed to be the hidden entrance to the alien’s lair; then, in a motion which would have been impossible for the victim’s eyes to even follow had they still functioned, the creature entered a preternatural, almost ghost-like state as it carried itself onwards.

Soon it found itself approaching a circular portal, somehow embedded in a rock face despite having no apparent physical presence therein. Still, the creature recognised it for what it was’ the entrance it sought.

Heady from the fresh blood still between its fangs, a feeling which cast its already-tenuous sense of restraint to the wind, it dove through to face what lay upon the other side.

When it emerged through the other end, it took one moment for it to get its bearings, a second to register the deep sub-conscious chill it felt from the unfamiliar environment it had rashly exposed itself to, and a third to focus its gaze upon the One which sat in the centre of this crystalline reality.

It was in that third, terrible moment, when the creature felt something it had not sensed in all the years since that fateful day it had been turned by its ancient progenitor.

An inexorable sense that cast out all others in its path, during the final few seconds of its existence, as the groundswell of energy coalesced around the One before being unleashed in the creature’s direction.

A final reminder that, for all its temporal power, it too proved all too mortal.

Fear.



------


September 14, 2005

Seonac’s eyelids shot open as he found himself gasping for air. A hand he had not remembered moving was pressed against his chest, as if trying to carry out a sub-conscious will to breathe in that first gulp of fresh oxygen. His other hand shook, as he tried to move it to one side, trying to place it as a lever with which he could try to force himself upright.

After a few desperate breaths, during which he managed to sit up on the bed, he felt… whatever it was that had startled him begin to subside. With each deeper, more measured breath, he felt his mind wind down from panic mode and towards a more stable degree of lucidity.

“What was…” he voiced to no-one in particular, as he found himself struggling to understand what had just caused him to wake in such a manner. There were times when he would wake, the memory of his dreams lingering long enough for him to try and process them; this, alas, was not one of them.

He took the hand which had helped him up and held it to his face, wiping his eyelids to try and adjust to the morning light. When his eyes opened again, he turned them to the face of the alarm clock on a nearby shelf; it wouldn’t go off for another hour or so. “Just my luck,” he sighed quietly, “but I guess I don’t have to rush over to it this morning.”

He shifted to the side of the bed, and reached over to the mobile phone on his bedside table. To his surprise, there were already a couple of fresh messages he had received earlier that morning. Looks like I wasn’t the only one up earlier than usual, he thought to himself.

The first message he opened was short, and to the point; even so, it was enough to draw the first smile of the day.

“’Happy birthday’, is it?” Seonac said. “Well… I’ll see what I can do.”


------


“Good morning, Seo- dear God, what happened to you?”

Mike stood near Waver’s desk, as the two watched the younger Irishman enter the room. “Did you not get any sleep last night, or something?”

“I think so,” Seonac answered, trying to stifle a yawn. “Just not enough of it, or so it would seem.”

Mike crossed his armed, frowning at this. “Up too late, were we?”

Seonac shook his head. “Nope; too early.”

He took a moment to explain what had happened that morning. “I still couldn’t tell you what it was, but I’d just as well not look forward to a repeat performance.”

“Quite.” Waver, calling time on this part of the discussion, moved to another topic he wanted to get done and over with before the three could start talking about more pertinent matters. “So, word has it that today marks a certain anniversary for you.”

“So I’m told,” Seonac replied, “though there’s not a whole lot I recall from that particular event, either…”

Mike rolled his eyes at that. “I’d be asking questions of you did, lad.”

With that, he reached over to a wrapped parcel, then picked it up and presented it to Seonac. “This came in a few days ago from your ‘aunt’ Flo.”

Seonac knew that Bláthnaid would kill Mike if she ever heard him call her that, but left that matter aside as he opened the present. Within lay a birthday card, as well as an oblong present with a tag hanging on the end.

He flicked the tag around and read it aloud. “’If it hasn’t happened already, the day will come where the scourge of every expat will strike. When that happens, and you start wondering what would have been had you chosen a different path, read this.’“

At that, he tore off the packaging, and saw the front cover of the book therein; a tome called The Logistics of Reality, by Rani IV.

“Oh, that one,” Waver noted, as he saw the cover for himself. “I have a copy of the English translation in my personal collection. In fact, I…”

He paused for a moment, as he contained the flash of anger he felt at that moment. “…I was going to offer it to one of my other students, but she brushed it off, saying she had a first-run copy in its original language! That shitty-Japanese bitch, gloating over a rare copy like that…”

“Now now,” Mike stepped in. “There’s no need to take that personally.” Besides, you’re one to talk; you never shut up about your collection.

Seonac, unfamiliar with Waver’s other students, refrained from making any comment, as he put the book and card to one side.

“Fine,” Waver sulked, before reaching for another book; he didn’t bother wrapping this one up before presenting it. “Here… happy birthday.”

Seonac, seeing the wisdom in avoiding Waver’s ire, made a point of showing his gratitude. “Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Sir?” Mike sighed. “I thought I… wait, was that one of the things I told you never to call him?”

“Call him?” Waver stopped, before rounding on his colleague. “So it was you who told him not to address me by my proper title?”

I won’t call you by that title, Waver,” Mike countered, standing his ground. “I’d feel personally let down if he started to.”

While the two continued their argument, Seonac found himself a little confused as he read the title. “’War for the Moon Cell’, by T.H. Peaceman? What is this, exactly?” And what kind of pen name was that?

“You tell me, Mr. Ó’Conaill,” Waver answered, side-slipping the rest of his “debate” with Mike. “Or rather, you will tell me, after you go through that book with a fine toothcomb.”

“O… kay?” Seonac stopped, wondering if Waver really was the kind to give him a major assignment on his birthday.

Waver stepped over and gestured to the book. “That thing’s as rare as they come, and it’s… well, let’s say its provenance is somewhat disputed, even among the relative few who’ve ever read it. I’d go over it myself, but I’m busy; and I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m supposed to have you study while you’re here anyway, so there you go.”

“There I go...” Seonac still wasn’t quite sure what it was he was supposed to gain by reading this book, not least since Waver seemed to imply it may well be a forgery; still, he thought, I guess it would be a way to practice my analytical skills.

Mike seemed to start reaching for something else, but stopped himself almost as soon as he had started to. “…”

Seonac took a look up from the book and picked up on his mentor’s sudden reticence. “Something on your mind, Mike?”

“Well, I…” Mike paused again, finding himself struggling with the order in which he had hoped to go through things. “I was going to show you my own present first, and then… get on to something else I needed to talk to you about, but…”

“The present can wait, then,” Seonac tried to reassure him. “If it’s something important enough to cause even you to pause for reflection like this, I’d probably want to get it over with sooner rather than later.”

“Okay,” Mike sighed. “But I should warn you; you might not like what I have to say.”

Seonac glanced over to Waver, who said nothing, but whose expression (from what Seonac could read of it, at least) seemed to indicate that he knew what was coming. He turned back to Mike, and said “it wouldn’t be the first time. Go on, out with it.”

Mike, biting the bullet, nodded.

“Lad, I’ve go some bad news for you.”


------


A few moments after Mike had made his statement, both he and Waver were left looking over at the pile of books that had recently, and suddenly, been violently transferred from their original location on the table counter to the ragged pile they had fallen into after hitting against the opposite wall.

Both men were somewhat stunned at the turn of events; at least for the length of time it had taken for the third person who had been in the room to make an uncharacteristically abrupt exit.

"Well, come on, you idiot," Waver almost shouted, being the first to blink. "Get after him and fix this!"


------


Two years ago, on his sixteenth birthday, Seonac's mind was prized open.

For the two years prior to that, the occasional wisp of doubt, echo of derision, or sense of dismissal had, at times, danced around the edge of his conscious being; there or almost-there one moment, only to be gone the next. A part of him wondered if it was not simply his subconscious acting up, reflecting the concerns he felt when talking to all too many others (those who weren't more blunt in their dislikes, that is).

That day, however, the veil which held back the unspoken words of his peers was ripped away. Every fake smile, every insult whispered behind one's breath, every projected sense of inadequacy, every hidden concern from a friend or family member, every sharp word held on the tip of another's tongue; all of it suddenly bombarded his mind relentlessly every time he drew near another, in a cacophany which increased exponentially the larger the crowd he was in the midst of.

And worst of all, he could sense, with terrible certainty, that even if this deluge was real and not the sign of some deep psychosis, that even daring to disclose it to anyone would invite ridicule at best... or a permanent re-location to an insane asylum at worst.

Fortunately, since the day he had learned the truth from Mike and Bláthnaid about just how real this intrinsic aspect of his new life was, the careful training and guidance had helped him learn to shield his mind from the ocean of broadcasted telepathic noise; to learn how to dam it out, in order to slowly learn how to assume command of the mental locks in a more refined manner.

Now, however, in the wake of this latest news, something cracked.


------


"...I can't miss another lecture at this rate!..."
"...maybe if I try another letter he'll..."
"...how could they side with that accursed..."
"...middle of time..."
"...wish she'd stop following..."
"...can't think clearly..."
"...I'm so angry, I'd..."

Make it stop, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP!


Seonac's mind was reeling as he walked - nay, almost ran - down the maze of corridors away from the room. He was barely able to keep his eyes on the way before him; his stream of thought warped and weft by the tidal waves of thoughts petty and profound, unwittingly pumped into the invisible air by the exposed minds he desperately tried to pass, to get around, to get away from.

Suddenly, before he relaised it, more mundane senses registered a loud thump followed by an awkward crashing onto the floor.

He blinked, and felt a sort of shock as he realized he was lying across from another person; someone he had just collided with. The echo of that impact soon caught up with him; his free hand reaching to his head, an act matched by the groggy response the other person made in the event.

Yet, it felt as if his eyes could not focus on the other person; his sense of vision was still almost blinded by the sheer background noise his mind was awash in.

A few moments later, before he could bring anything else into focus, a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

"[SIZE="1"]...nac[/SIZE], [SIZE="1"]Seonac[/SIZE], Seonac!"

He shook his head, and found a wave of directed thought clear the shoals of loose psionic static from around his mind.

It was Mike.

"Why did..." Seonac started to speak, the pain of the collision taking up much of the unwanted attention the clearing mist had been claiming.

"What the hell was that? Seriously," Mike shouted in exasperation. "Two years' worth of effort, and this is how it goes?"

Seonac was reminded of just what had happened to spark this collapse, and turned away from Mike in a flush of anger. "And how much of that would you know about, you fucking traitor!"

Even as he said it, he knew it was harsh... far too harsh a term for what was set to happen. He could feel the deep pang of regret at once; along with the icy dagger it had lodged in his mentor's mind.

"I..." Mike knew the truth of the matter, but couldn't help but feel wounded all the same ; not least since a part of him felt that it was all too true. "You know it's..."

As both of them fell silent, unable to process what it was they were supposed to say next, a third voice emerged.

"Um, ano..." the source of the voice, a young man with red hear, brown eyes and a sore temple, tried to say. "I didn't mean to walk into the middle of..."

Both Mike and Seonac turned to the young man; the latter feeling sick at the double blow of both walking into this bystander, and in risking to drag him into an argument which should never have happened. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going... please, forgive me."

As Seonac and the other man slowly stood up again, the response indicated a surprising degree of forgiveness; or rather, an insistence that there was nothing to forgive. "Oh no, it's okay; I just hope you are okay. Are you in any trouble?"

At this point, Seonac, whose mental control was gradually restoring itself, was surprised at the sheer sense of... honesty from this person. Many of the people he ran into (not literally) so far in the Clock Tower were singularly guarded behind a concrete wall of politesse, or more thinly veiling their callousness or contempt behind a thin veneer of obliged tolerance. this time, however, the young man was broadcasting a genuine sense of concern, along with an honest wish to help if he could.

Which made his sense of sheer embarrassment all the more acute.

"I'm sorry," Seonac said abruptly, before rushing off once again; this time keeping more care as to his surroundings.

"Wait!" the other man said, before sighing at the unfortunate outcome. He turned to Mike and felt like he wanted to say something, but felt lost for words.

Mike, for his part, was in part trying to process his own role in this pantomime, part piecing together what he should say and do to settle things once he caught up with Seonac...

..and part registering what language the two young men had just been speaking to each other.


------


"There you are."

Mike called over to his Irish protégé, who was resting against a short wall on one side of the rooftop. An unused telescope lay upon a tripod nearby; left there by a would-be stargazer who had refrained from marking the device as their property. Despite no-one quite remembering how it got there, however, no attempt at moving, or removing, it had been made.

Seonac, for his part, was staring into the sky above; it was later in the day, the blue of the morning sky shifting to a dull orange. "Mike, I..."

Mike raised a hand, waving off what he knew would be said. "Seonac, you never have to apologise to me; especially since, in this case, I deserve it."

"Although," he followed up, gesturing with his other hand to the red-head standing beside him, "I'm not sure if that's the case with him."

Seonac sharpened his gaze as he turned it away from the sky and towards the new arrivals, and felt a further tug of emnarrassment when he saw the other young man again.

"Well," he said, as he walked over to the two others, "I suppose I was going to have to think of how to set things right about all of this eventually."

"Please, again, don't worry about it," the brown-eyed youth responded cheerfully. "It can happen to anyone."

"Look, Seonac," Mike then said telepathically, "I want to sit down and talk about things more fully, but that can wait a little bit longer. If you're willing to do so, that is."

The Irishman nodded. "I don't want to leave things on a bad note, before you..."

"...but right now, perhaps you'd like to exchange formal introductions with this nice young man here," Mike referred once again to the red-head. "So long as you're both willing to make a new friend."

"I'd be happy to," the red-head said, before offering his hand. "I believe we haven't met... sort of!"

"Sort of!" Seonac broke a smile at that, as he offered his own hand in return. "My name is Seonac O'Conaill, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr..."

"Emiya", his new friend replied. "Emiya Shirou."
« Last Edit: August 14, 2013, 08:03:57 PM by Nerroth »

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #4 on: August 10, 2013, 05:38:40 AM »
A chara,


On the day I write this, the subject of this summary, Seonac O'Conaill, will have reached his eighteenth birthday. While it may seem to be a defining event when living through it, I hope that one day he may look back on this snapshot at some later date, and reflect positively on how far he will have come since then.

Seonac was born in the Rotunda Hospital on the 14th of September 1987, to Niall and Sadhbh O'Conaill. Unbeknownst to his parents, who were not part of a magus lineage, Seonac possessed latent thaumaturgic potential; yet this untapped seam lay almost completely dormant at first. Though I have no direct evidence to verify this, I tend to believe that the first stumbling embers of his potential began to flicker in and out of his subconscious from as young as 14, his first true awakening was to take place upon his sixteenth birthday.

In Seonac's case, by far the most prominent, and thus far defining, aspect of this process saw him manifest a relatively rare phenomenon; telepathy. This gift, or curse depending on one's viewpoint, is relatively little understood compared to more traditional forms of thaumaturgy; at least, in the manner it seems to have emerged in Seonac's mind. Unfortunately, with no forewarning or experience in dealing with such matters in his own family, or among those who first attempted to diagnose his condition in the wake of this traumatic event, Seonac found it difficult to adjust to a cacophany of voices which may or may not have been real.

Eventually, his file first found itself upon my desk, at which point I soon discovered his more-than-mundane nature. I was able to contact another magus-telepath based over in London (the Nova Scotian Michael Mackenzie, who was working alongside Lord El-Melloi II at the time) and together make "first contact" of sorts with Seonac. Fortunately, the young magus decided to take up the mantle of responsibility unwittingly placed upon him, which was, technically speaking, no less than the onset of a brand new sorcerous lineage.

However, while Mr. Mackenzie's mental training was able to help Seonac gain a greater sense of control over the filter he could place around his mind, one substantial mystery soon presented itself. In terms of raw numbers, Seonac's latent sorcerous potential and prana reserves are substantial; indeed, his innate alignments approach Average One levels of diversity. Despite this, his reservoir of prana remains untapped; he has so far been unable to cast even introductory low-level spells, to say nothing of the kind of sorcerous manifestations which magi of his age from a more established family could accomplish with even half of his raw potential. (His mental abilities seem to lie apart from this source, though how this is so remains unclear.) As an interim measure, I have provided him with a limited number of wards and amulets I fashioned using my own Atlas heritage; not least one designed to hide his true potential from would-be predators. Even so, I fear that unless some means of allowing him access to his built-in font of abilities is found, he may risk becoming dangerously exposed at a critical moment.

On a personal level, Seonac's character is defined in part by his living with Asperger Syndrome (which I was able to diagnose personally); though not by as much as he might tend to believe at times. On the one hand, the "folk physics" aspect of his mind is very sharp, when operating under ideal conditions; he is an excellent student of history, can pick up new concepts quickly (at least on a theoretical level) and possesses a knack for lateral thinking at his best. On the other hand, his "folk psychology" aspect can be more problematic; he can be uncomfortable gauging body language (not least eye contact), can be prone to using a hundred words to describe a concept when only twenty will do, and can have trouble dealing with less... rational aspects of human nature. Still, while there will be a shade of this dichotomy with him for the remainder of his life, I am confident that as he matures and develops into the kind of man I believe he can become, he will master the means by which he can make the most of his gifts, learn to tackle the issues he is able to do something about, and to accept those he can't as part of the checks and balances of life itself.



Is mise,

Bláthnaid Ní hAodha, Baile Átha Cliath, 14 Meán Fómhair 2005.

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #5 on: August 10, 2013, 05:39:11 AM »
Part 5


When sempai-tachi were still living at the Emiya-tei, there was one part of what had become my daily routine that, one way or another, never failed to be quite... lively. As she fulfilled the roles of teacher and guardian, Fujimura-sensei was never too far away from the residence; not least when there was the prospect of food on the table.

She had been far more vocal about her feelings than I was in the run-up to the departure; and in its aftermath, the sheer bravado she made a point of presenting didn't do much to hide her true feelings. "I'm so proud that Shirou's off to study in a foreign country," she'd say; "but all of that cooking he'll do over there is going to go to waste!"

Even when she wasn't trying, she was always able to draw a smile from my face.

So, we both found that when a certain time of day came around, we would both be in the same place as always; cooking together (or rather, her watching me cook while her excitement for the coming meal built up), eating at the same table, talking about no end of little things (usually those involving her latest mishaps and misadventures), and sharing stories from the times when there were still more plates to lay upon the dinner table.

One of those stories we shared was from a day which, even still, seemed both so recent yet so long ago; when a fearless young boy drove himself, again and again, to vault himself over a high-mounted bar.

I had never forgotten that day, or that boy; and of course Fujimura-
sensei laughed as she thought back at how foolishly determined sempai had been to drive himself to such injury over it.

But while, to her, it had been just one day out of many, to me it had been so much more; for it had borne the wrenching, bittersweet, longing-yet-fearful contradiction which had driven me to approach that boy, to talk to him, to try and learn as much about him as I possibly could...

...and to do everything I could to ensure that, no matter how close our relationship became, it would never go so far as to risk condemning him to a fate worse than death.



------


September 24, 2005


*knock knock*

Emiya Shirou knocked firmly, yet politely, on the door of Seonac's apartment. He wasn't quite sure if he had remembered correctly about whether or not the Irishman would be at home by this time or not, but figured he may as well try the door anyway.

After about a minute or so, in which he hadn't heard anything by way of a reply, he started to turn down the corridor when he saw someone emerge from the distant flight of steps.

"Oh, hi!" Seonac, who was carrying a pair of shopping bags, rushed over to the front door of his apartment as soon as he noticed Shirou's presence, shifting the bags to one hand as he reached for his door key with the other. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company. I hope you haven't been waiting long."

Shirou shook his head, and reached out a hand in an offer to help with the bags. "No, I just got here. Can I help you with one of those?"

"No, no, don't worry about it," Seonac replied, as he unlocked the door and used his free forearm to push it open. "Would you like to come in? I'll need a second to put this stuff away, if that's okay."

Shirou used the hand he would have used to carry a bag to help hold the door open instead, as he followed Seonac into the apartment. "Thank you."

As Shirou closed the door behind him, he looked over to see Seonac go into the kitchen and put the bags on one of the countertops. From where he was standing, it looked like various food items, some of which he didn't recognise. "Do you mind if I see what kind of food you have there?"

"Here you go," Seonac responded as he stepped to one side, the various containers and packets now sitting on the shelf, out of the bags and ready to be stored away in their proper locations. "I wouldn't expect to see anything too appealing in there, though."

Shirou went over to the kitchen countertop, and looked down at some of the less familiar items. "Which ones are these? I haven't seen them before."

"Oh, this one," Seonac pointed to one of the rectangular boxes on one side, "is a serving of aloo matar; potatoes in a kind of Indian curry sauce."

Those boxes had been stacked atop a pile of others of the same size; Seonac spread them out to show the labels and images on each. "Generally, you go by the type of food in the pack, along with the specific sauce used. That one there is matar paneer; it has the same type of curry as the aloo matar, but uses cottage cheese instead of potatoes. This one here, with the chickpeas in the different colour sauce, is channa masala; you can get a rajma masala, the same sauce with a kind of reddish bean instead, but I'm not as big a fan of those."

"I see," Shirou noted. "So do these packets go with anything else, or do you eat them as they are?"

"Well, that depends, I guess," Seonac answered, referring now to some of the other items on the table. "I usually eat them with a serving of rice, as well as some naan; that flatbread you see in the other packet there. Though if I'm at a proper Indian restaurant, instead of being stuck in here with these, I would usually get some lentil soup with poppadoms as a starter."

Shirou had another side to that question he wanted to clarify. "But do you ever put anything else in the sauce itself; any meat, or vegetables or anything?"

"Oh, right," Seonac said, cottoning on to what Shirou had been driving at. "Well, they do make things like chicken tikka masala and so forth, and some places do like to throw in all sorts of vegetables and spices into the mix. I'd skip the first because I'm a vegetarian, but the second is more down to my, erm, less than stellar food palette. Sorry."

"No need to apologise," Shirou reassured him. The part of his mind that enjoyed to cook was already thinking of what kind of recipes he might like to try for himself at some point; though he reasoned that going to eat freshly-prepared food at a proper restaurant, rather than just relying on the kind of packs he saw before him, might give him a better opportunity to gauge the kind of meal he'd want to aim for.

He stored another useful piece of information in the back of his mind at this time, too; Seonac doesn't eat meat, and might not be great with more adventurous food. If I'm ever hosting him as a guest, I'll have to plan accordingly.

Shirou picked up one of the food packets, and turned it over to read the English instructions. As he did so, his mind turned to one of the main issues he had wanted to try and deal with that day. "You know, Seonac," he pointed out, "I seem to be finding it a lot easier to read this lately than I would have done before we first met..."

Seonac, who had been putting some milk away in the fridge, turned around and sighed. "It's interesting you mention that; since I seem to be finding your language a lot easier nowadays, too."

Shirou already had an idea about when the change had taken place, but wanted to find answers regarding the hows and whys of the matter. "Did something happen that time we ran into each other on your birthday?"

Seonac tried not to sigh again, as he started to go through his own ideas on what had happened. "I think so, but it wasn't anything deliberate on my part. You see, usually as part of my training, I try to block my mind from picking up on outside connections or stray mental broadcasts; but that day I was, well... I hadn't been as careful, or rather I hadn't reacted as well to the news Mike had given me just before then."

"Telepathy," Shirou commented. "I'm not sure that's something I'd like to deal with, myself."

Seonac nodded in agreement, and felt his spirits sag a little at the implications of where the rest of his reconstruction would go. "You're a lucky man in that regard, Shirou. But yeah, I... I think what happened was that some sort of subconscious link, or exchange, took place when our heads knocked together. Like, some sort of automatic translation matrix; porting the knowledge of one language over to another mind and vice versa."

Seonac tried to reassure his new friend as we went on. "I don't know if that was really true; it's never happened to me before, and it's certainly not a thing I would ever have chosen to do even if I had known how to do it. I can't think of another good explanation for what happened, but I don't want it to be an excuse. I'm sorry, Shirou. I really am; but for what it's worth, I don't think anything else was exchanged; I don't suddenly know your phone number or favourite colour or anything like that."

Shirou remained silent for a moment, but held no ill will over it. "If that was what happened, it's okay; I don't consider it an intrusion or an invasion of privacy. I trust that you wouldn't look into my thoughts, or anyone else's, without permission; if anything, I see this as more of a help than anything. I don't know your phone number either, but I do know a lot more about how to communicate with you, and with other people here in this country. That kind of gift is something I'm grateful for; and if it means you can handle Japanese in turn, I'm happy to help in that regard, too."

At this, Seonac breathed a sigh of relief. He had been seriously worried that if his theory was true, or even if the idea had been given voice, that it would have constituted a gross dereliction of his personal responsibility that Shirou would not have forgiven. However, since all it seemed to involve was language skills, the exchange seemed to be something else, even if Seonac had preferred it happen under more controlled - and more pre-agreed upon - circumstances. "Thank you for your understanding."

"That's no problem at all," Shirou reassured his friend once more.

"Okay," Seonac accepted.

"So, now that that's settled," Shirou went on, "would you like to go over the rest of what happened that evening?"


------


Several hours after Seonac and Shirou had been introduced on the 14th of that month, the latter had gone his own way, while the former was seated across from his soon-to-be-former-mentor, Mike Mackenzie; the two using what was likely to be their last conversation for quite some time to come as a means of setting the record straight between them.

"Seonac," Mike said simply, "this isn't about trying to get rid of you as a student, or as a friend. I know that it's not easy to accept this, but I have to make that as clear as I can."

"I..." Seonac's anger from earlier in the day had long subsided, but he still felt slow to digest what was about to happen. "I know. You're not the kind of guy to do something like this without good reason. I just... well, to be honest, I'm not too sure I'm eager to know what that reason is."

Mike wasn't finding the going much easier, himself; all the more so due to the information which, despite the level of trust the Nova Scotian placed in the Irish youth, he felt bound not to mention.

"When I went away back in 2004, Waver had wanted me to go somewhere. At the time, I was fairly set on what he had in mind; I mean, it was related to the very thing he had done which earned him my original attention in the first place, and which had... well, left David and I on the first boat out of Halifax not long before."

Seonac already knew about the split which had seen Mike and his younger brother, David Mackenzie, leave their home town, carrying their side of a family feud across continents... and away from the rest of their clan. "That thing involving your distant relatives?"

"The very same," Mike nodded. He had explained how Waver Velvet had used his thaumaturgic trickery to make a temporary home for himself in Japan with Glen and Martha Mackenzie, part of a distant and non-magical branch of Mike's extended family. He had also noted how Mike's own father, one of the ranking Association in the annex run underneath Halifax's Town Clock, had "suggested" Waver contact the elder couple, without running it past them first; an act which had infuriated the brothers both from its callousness in exploiting their distant kin, and for its dangerousness in terms of risking the lives of two innocent lives for no good reason. This split had seen Mike come to London, where he ironically found himself working alongside the newly-minted Lord El-Melloi II (but not before making his displeasure over the Glen and Martha business quite clear); while David had signed up with the Canadian Forces and been deployed to Afghanistan as part of Canada's ongoing military commitment in that country.

What Mike had not explained, however, was
why Waver had gone to Japan in the first place.

"But when I got to the airport, I found that by the time I had stopped to notice, the flight I had booked was taking me somewhere else instead." The plane Mike had boarded would take him nowhere near Japan, but would prove no less fateful for that. "I can't go into details right now, but to make a long story short... I have to go back. And this time, I can't leave again until things are settled, one way or another."

"And you can't tell me where this is because..." Seonac knew that even if Mike did tell him, the end result would be the same.

"Because you need to be
here," Mike stated flatly. "You are still only beginning to walk your own path, and there is still-"

"-still the fact that I can't do anything, or that I'd probably get myself killed if I tried to follow you, you mean? That sort of reason?" There was more bitterness in those words than he had hoped to give them, but he couldn't deny the anger, and guilt, he felt towards his own limitations.

Mike took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, his left hand pressed to his eyelids. It was getting harder to push through this. "One day, lad, you'll be ready to step out that door, and to make the kind of life for yourself that I know you are capable of living. But it
cannot be today."

Seonac had no answer to that.

"Here's what I
can promise to you," Mike said, after a deep pause. "When this is all over, and if I am still alive at the end of it, I'll come back and tell you all of the things that you deserve to know, but what you don't need to know right now. But in return, you have to promise me that by the time that conversation happens, you'll be more than just my former student; that you'll be ready to shake my hand as a friend, and to greet me on level terms.

"Can you do that for me, Seonac?"

It wasn't a lot, but as the offer sank in, it proved to be enough.

"Yes."


------


"So you still don't know what was going on?" Shirou and Seonac had moved to the living room, and were seated across from each other not far from where Seonac and Mike had been sitting ten days earlier.

"If I were to hazard a guess," Seonac reasoned, "he's off hunting down some rogue teep or something. He had been sent to various parts of the world to investigate newly-emergent telepaths; I wouldn't think all of them would settle down amicably."

Something about that idea didn't sit right for Shirou with that idea. "If that were true, why would he not simply tell you? If you already know what kind of work he was involved in, would it be that much more of a deal to trust that you'd understand the problem without rushing off after him?"

Seonac had thought of that, too. "I suppose... but if there was something about one of those cases, something he had dealt with before, that had been more important, or perhaps more personal, than he was comfortable talking about, maybe that would explain why he wasn't ready to talk about it?"

"To be honest," Seonac admitted, "I can't help but think the real reason he's gone is to do with a former student of his, or something like that. I don't know how many other lost young mind-readers he had tried to help before he met me; what if one of those attempts to help had backfired on him?"

"That would explain why he'd be reluctant to talk about it with you," Shirou thought. "It's not always easy for someone who felt like they failed others in the past to feel comfortable admitting it to those they try to protect later on."

All Shirou had to do was to close his eyes and think of the words of Emiya Kiritsugu, the man who had done so much to save him, while bearing the burden of those for whom he could not do the same, to recognise that.

That legacy had done so much to shape the young adopted orphan's mind; to set him on the path of what he felt was the realization of a beautiful ideal, one he might have continued forever had the series of events which had now led him in this new direction not taken place.

But that was a discussion for another time.

"Well, I suppose I'll find out one day, assuming we're not both dead by then," Seonac concluded. "In the meantime, I might as well try to figure out how not to be so useless, hm?"

"Ha ha," Shirou laughed. He was in no such hurry to rush to such judgement. "You'll be fine, and you know what? When it comes to matters of magic and sorcery, there might be only one thing I can do well; but for what it's worth, if there's anything I can help with, I'll be more than happy to do so. And that's my promise!"

Seonac was about to reply, when a fresh voice carried across the room. "Although I should warn you; he's useful to have around in a fight, but in most cases Emiya-kun can be quite the idiot."

By the time the speaker had finished, several moments in Seonac’s mind had passed in rapid succession.

In the first, he had been startled to register a third voice in the room; he hadn’t been aware of the door opening and closing, let alone any footsteps indicating the distance the person must have taken to get to where she now stood; just behind Shirou’s seat. (Who is she, and how did she get in?)

In the second, he picked up on the voice; a woman’s, speaking Japanese, with the kind of tone and diction that seemed in itself to carry an innumerable degree of nuances about the personality of the speaker, clear in its expectation that he as a foreigner would understand completely. (Did she know about what had happened with Shirou?

In the third, he stood up almost instinctively, his gaze lifting to gaze upon… the most striking, playful, powerful, vivid, incredible opal eyes he had ever seen; the kind he hadn’t imagined to actually exist before that very instant. (My God, she’s incredible…)

And in the fourth, as he glanced down to note the exquisite hand she had placed upon Shirou’s shoulder, the ease in which it found such rest, despite the latter’s own surprise at her sudden arrival, the moment of Planck time it took for the meaning to register in Seonac’s mind drove a stake through a heart that had barely just registered bursting. (…and I will never be good enough for her.)

Shirou, if you truly are my friend, he almost-but-not-quite managed to say aloud, then kill me now.

“You shouldn’t just barge in to the home of someone you don’t know like that, Tohsaka!” Shirou said, upset at his significant other’s lack of good manners.

“Fine then,” the young woman shrugged, before bowing to her new Irish guest. “Hello, we haven’t met. My name is Tohsaka Rin; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Seonac blinked, did his best to bury the exceedingly unfortunate discovery he had just made prior to her greeting, and bowed in reply. “Seonac Ó’Conaill; welcome to my home.”

“Oh, also,” Rin added, offering her hand. “Shaking hands might be the done thing in this part of the world when meeting new acquaintances, yes?”

“S-sure…” Seonac was surprised at her forthrightness, but offered his own hand in return almost by default. Her touch almost crackled in his hand.

As they each drew their hands back to themselves, Rin smiled, and sent a triumphant look down Shirou’s way. “See, we’re not strangers now, so what was it you were concerned about again?”

“Never mind…” Shirou surrendered, once again bowing to her indomitable will.

And as Rin’s laughter echoed around his living room, Seonac knew that, somehow, he was going to have to find a way to exorcise that indescribable feeling this woman had unleashed, with the fury of a supernova, within the depths of his soul; and hope that the nebula of lingering emotion this shockwave left behind wouldn’t end up haunting him for the rest of his life.

It was going to take one hell of an effort.
 

Tyrnek

  • Data Fragment
  • **
  • Posts: 78
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #6 on: August 10, 2013, 06:40:56 AM »
I'll be honest: I only read the intro diary entry things. I promise to read into the rest later, and give you a more substantial critique.

That being said, I really, really, really liked the first 3 or so. Especially the one about the summoning.

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #7 on: August 11, 2013, 12:45:28 AM »
No need to promise; take your time, and only go further into it if you are so interested.

I'm still weighing up on whether or not to post the other stories here, or to wait until/unless I get back to writing the rest of this one, and go on (with or without a re-write) from there.

(One issue I found is that this board loses the formatting from BL posts, so unless I dig up the other stories from a board that retains the BBCode, I'd have to re-enter it all manually...)

Cherry Lover

  • The Maintainer
  • SE.RA.PH
  • **********
  • Posts: 6375
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #8 on: August 11, 2013, 01:13:16 AM »
Ah, well, that's because BL uses a WYSIWYG editor by default, and we don't. It's possible to get around that either by disabling the WYSIWYG editor on BL or enabling it on here. Either of those will fix the problem.

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #9 on: August 11, 2013, 01:27:23 AM »
In that case, how do I enable WISIWYG on this forum?

Cherry Lover

  • The Maintainer
  • SE.RA.PH
  • **********
  • Posts: 6375
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #10 on: August 11, 2013, 01:53:23 AM »
In the menu at the top, select Profile, Account Settings. Then select "Look and Layout" from under "Modify Profile" and tick the box "Show WYSIWYG editor on post page by default."

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #11 on: August 11, 2013, 01:54:06 AM »
Got it, thanks.

lantzblades

  • Black King of the round table
  • Alter Ego
  • *******
  • Posts: 3676
  • GM
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #12 on: August 11, 2013, 04:19:35 AM »
Oh, good, this is here, I lost track of this story and no one could help me find the thing, I wanted to read the whole since the annex back on the old bl, welcome nerroth

Cherry Lover

  • The Maintainer
  • SE.RA.PH
  • **********
  • Posts: 6375
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #13 on: August 12, 2013, 01:21:26 AM »
Yeah, I do like this story, although the sequel to it (which was written before IIRC) isn't here yet.

Nerroth

  • NPC
  • ***
  • Posts: 252
  • Alea iacta est.
    • View Profile
Re: Crystallized Moments
« Reply #14 on: August 14, 2013, 08:05:41 PM »
I just fixed one of the old BGM links, which should work now.

(I was able to go through the BGM links in my other fics, too. Not all of those have YouTube links, but those which do should go to an appropriate file.)

f course, if you aren't minded to listen to the BGM suggestions anyway, you probably won't care too much about this update, so.
« Last Edit: August 14, 2013, 08:06:56 PM by Nerroth »