Patience is a Virtue (Ebba and Myrrha)

[Ebba]

“Damn it,” Timothy breathed, hands on his hips in a rather frustrated mannerism. Timothy Lessing had gotten lost, and in a forest. Just his luck. He was unarmed as well; If anything happened to be lurking around, it wasn’t likely he would get away alive. Timothy had concluded he wasn't that strong of a man to be able to fight anything off with just his strength alone.

That was one of the reasons he'd taken up magic. He felt he wasn't strong enough to protect the ones he loved. After finding his younger brother beaten by older men one day, Timothy had sought them out, only to be beaten to a pulp himself. It was emasculating to know he couldn't even defend his younger brother or himself. Learning magic was the coward's way out, but who besides himself was going to know he was taking it up for that reason?

Timothy began his climb out of the creek. The current situation he was in had all started when his horse Penelope had been spooked by something in the forest. She had panicked, and frantically broke into a run. Being the lightweight, clumsy guy Timothy was, he’d fallen of the horse and into a creek. The horse had rode off, leaving Timothy virtually alone in a forest he had little knowledge about. Unarmed and alone...It wasn’t a good situation.

Even if he was to get to his destination, it still wouldn’t be a good situation. He smelled of perspiration, and he was drenched and disgusting from the creek’s water. Timothy even considered going home given the way he looked because, all in all, he looked like a sewer rat.

What a great first impression he would give to this man.

He had to get there though. He’d already began his journey out here and he had to finish it. Besides, he felt he wasn’t far away from the home at all. And by a glance at the map he'd sketched out, he confirmed he wasn't.

Timothy climbed out of the creek and back onto level ground and continued on the pathway he’d outlined for himself. It wasn’t far at all. It really wasn’t. Maybe if it really was in this direction, he’d find Penelope. This was the direction she’d run off to, right? Or maybe not. He sighed, shoulders slumping and doubts replacing once happy thoughts. This was nerve-wracking. He would’ve much preffered if the man didn’t live smack dab in the middle of the forest. He was sure it wasn't common at all for a magic-users to live in the forest. Why did this one decide to live so far away from civilization?

"I wonder if he'll let me live here," He muttered, thinking how that would go. He wondered if it would be luxurious there, and what the man would be like. His now deceased grandfather had been a magician. He had been charming and funny. Just really fun to be around...That's why he could never understand why mankind could be so cruel as to call him wicked and stone him.

"No, no. Don't think about that." Timothy told himself, shaking his head. He had been there, unable to do anything because of his young age. He remembered it as clear as day...

Timothy trudged forward, walking for a few more minutes. He felt weirdly excited and nervous. Excited for if he did find the home, and nervous because of what he’d encounter on his way or even while he was there. Before long, Timothy came to a clearing, where in fact, he found the magician’s abode, tall and grand like he had imagined it to be. All feelings of nervousness washed away. He was terribly excited now. Even though he looked a mess, he figured maybe the man would overlook it. A smile can light up a whole person’s face and outshine the imperfections. So, with his fools grin on, Timothy rushed up to the doors of the home, knocking with much enthusiasm.

[Myrrha]

The spindly, worn tower stretched its way into the sky, several stories in height. It tapered to a very sharp point, much like the tip of an old witch's hat, though that had not been the original intention. Weathered, grey stone formed the majority of the dwelling, with some wood bracing here and there. Bearing some resemblance to the Rapunzel tower in old fairy tales, it looked rather imposing and just a bit magical. And it was.

Inside the dwelling, Yithael Zhepllryn used both index fingers to lightly massage his temples, hoping to ease away his headache. His light brown hair fell into his face, but he did nothing to move it away. With clockwise motions and low chanting, he kept up the light pressure on his head, and, after several long minutes, the headache did recede. At least the clutter in the tower was reduced, somewhat. Yithael stood in the middle of the living area, near the hearth, and surveyed his work. A stone floor spread out from the banked fire, and a set of four stone steps led to an upper area level with the ground outside.

The front door opened to this higher section, with the steps leading down into the slightly sunken hearth area to the right. To the left, a winding hallway led to the kitchen and dining area, both rather small as the magician had only himself to cook for and entertain. Directly in front of the entry area, a narrow flight of stone steps led upward in a spiral pattern, hugging the outer wall of the dwelling. They opened up to a hallway with two rooms, one very small and one rather large. The first door led to the larger of the two spaces, Yithael's own quarters. The second door led to something of a storage closet that had, until yesterday, held quite a bit of mess. Through a lot of work and a little magic, Yithael had cleaned it out and prepared it for his new apprentice.

Now, the room contained a small, wooden bed with a rough straw mattress, a wooden armoire, a nightstand with a basin for water, and a night basket for any personal hygiene concerns. It was sparse, but then, times were tough, and the new apprentice would have to work his way up to greater places of luxury, if he could. Besides, Yithael's quarters were not that much nicer, all things considered.

Beyond the two doors on the second level, another set of winding stairs finished the journey to the very top of the dwelling, where Yithael had most of his magical supplies and apparatuses. The rest he kept in the cellar, which was through a small door beneath several layers of rugs in the living area.

All in all, the tower looked much cleaner than it had in quite a long time. Yithael had wanted to make a good impression; after all, the boy's family would be paying him a modest sum in money, and the boy would be free labour for the remainder of his stay. It would be both a blessing and a curse to have another person underfoot. The apprentice could be a great help, not just in everyday matters of cooking and cleaning, but in aiding him with more complicated spells, which might reduce the toll such magic took. And yet Yithael had a feeling he would miss the solitude, the peace of being alone. It would be an adjustment, like many things in life.

A series of sharp knocks interrupted his musings, and his sharp grey eyes glanced at the door. Right on time, it seemed.

Yithael crossed to the door and smoothed his ebony robes. He had chosen to wear some of his more impressive clothing, in the name, again, of first impressions. The night-black fabric hung in soft folds from his arms and brushed the floor at his feet. Delicate silver embroidery wound its way along the hem, forming tiny little stars. Perhaps it was a bit extravagant for meeting his apprentice, but Yithael figured he'd have less regret over-dressing than under-dressing. He took a slow, steady breath, then unlatched the great, wooden door and pulled it open.

On the other side stood the boy, a rather slender and bedraggled fellow. Had he decided to take a swim with his clothes on? And had he walked the whole way? Yithael craned his head around, searching for the boy's horse, but he could see no other living creature in the clearing. And the boy had such a cheerful expression for someone so sodden.

"Well. You're a sight," he muttered wryly, one hand braced against the door frame. "It's... Lessing, isn't it? Timothy Lessing?"

[Ebba]

Timothy laughed, running his fingers through his hair. The smile hadn’t gone as long a way as he had hoped it would. In fact, his appearance was the first thing he’d commented on...He gulped, feeling a little under pressure.

“Yeah that’s me. You can call me me Tim if you'd like," He continued to smile until glancing at the other man's attire. "Forgive me for not looking more groomed..Er..Though, you look grand.” Was that an awkward thing to say? Probably..Oh well. His face flushed from embarrassment. This was nerve-wracking. He swallowed.

Timothy looked a complete mess compared to him. He figured maybe--just maybe-- the magician wouldn't be as tidy as he'd envisioned him, but he had no such luck. He bit his lip nervously. Maybe he should explain why he looked so shabby. It wasn't as if he'd journeyed here looking this way from the very beginning.

He did take just a bit of pride in the way he looked. He had to. Or at least felt the need to look trimmed and groomed and plucked...

“Um. Allow me to explain." Timothy announced in a somewhat oafish manner. "It was a bit of an extensive journey just to get to your just grand dwelling." That at least explained why he smelled of perspiration.

"Also, just earlier, my horse thrust me into a creek.” That explained why his attire was drenched. Timothy laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, timidly. His cheeks were scorched red from embarrassment now. This was utterly humiliating to explain. Usually he had no problem making fun of his clumsiness, but it was embarrassing to explain in front of this stranger and a man whom he desperately wanted to give a good impression. He must have come off to be some sewer rat.

“And about the horse....My horse Penelope..." He sighed. "She ran off in a panic. Something spooked her here in these woods..”

Timothy concluded this whole situation was just terrible and embarrasing... Things often went wrong for him, but usually he could laugh it off...Usually. But it was probably the way the magician look-- so made up and prepared-- that got him nervous. The man looked magnificent really...He was tidy and well-groomed. His robes were honestly something to die for...Simple, yet so elegant..Everything about him seemed pretty elegant. Maybe with the exception of his hair, but it seemed to fit him.

There was a strong breeze, something that was unfavorable for poor, wet Timothy. He visibly shivered, crossing his arms in an effort to warm his cold, shivering body. This was a terrible situation. He was in terrible need of a bath with all the adventuring he’d done, and he hadn’t even a change of clothing for afterwards. The horse had rode off with a lot of his luggage. Ugh this was so frustrating and embarrasing... He contemplated the man's reaction if he just big him farewell, but decided against it..But it was just so embarrassing that he was so unprepared now when he should have been ready.

His shoulders slumped and his once happy face fell. The corners of his mouth even curved down into a frown, and Timothy’s brown eyes focused on his brown leather boots. Really, this man must’ve thought of him as a wannabe...He felt inferior and foolish, feeling he shouldn’t have come looking and acting like an unprepared, blundering fool. This had been a terrible first impression. First impressions really were everything and he probably had not made a good one.

“I’m sorry for sounding like such a blunderin’ idiot, Mister Zhepllryn,” Timothy began, gazing into the magician’s grey eyes.

“I was just so excited about getting here that I wasn’t thinking all that straight. Everything has just gone wrong so far..” And it had. "I'm sorry. I promise I'm not typically like this."

His face reddened again from embarrassment. He knew he was probably the biggest klutz he knew. But a little lie didn't hurt anyone, right? He'd try his best not to get overly excited or nervous. Heart beat racing, he waited for Yithael to say something, anything, that made feel less like a graceless wannabe.

[Myrrha]

Quietly, Yithael used the time Timothy spent rambling to study the boy in greater detail. He wore the clothes of a commoner, which was right enough, given his status. And he carried himself with a good deal of humility, though that could have something to do with his long-winded apologies. Yithael found it refreshing, actually, to see that someone in this blasted realm actually cared about appeasing him. It seemed he had lost his ability to make an impression on the Queen. Once, he had been feared and respected, but now, the Queen only called on him when some magical malady or another plagued part of her lands. Yithael knew Queen Cambricia frowned on his use of magic -- on all use of magic, really -- but regarded it as a necessary evil. Better she have the incomprehensible madman on her side, eh?

Magic was a dying art, especially with all the suspicion surrounding it. Yithael was amazed that anyone had entertained the idea of coming to him as an apprentice, much less someone who was willing to pay. That brought his attention back to the figure at his doorstep. Well, the young man's explanation certainly shed light on his disheveled appearance. Unfortunate, really, as far as first impressions went, but there was the matter of the horse to attend to.

As the breeze rustled Yithael's robes, he noticed Timothy shivering, an observation which caused a knot to form in his stomach, though it dissipated quickly. He was tempted to cut off the man's apologies, but sensed his new apprentice wanted to give a full explanation. There would be time, later, to teach him the art of brevity.

For now, there was both the matter of the man's damp clothing and his missing horse.

"Timothy will do. It's a good name. Strong and full of favour," Yithael replied. "Notice how it begins with a forceful consonant, the insistent 't.' And notice how it tapers off into a softness, the 'th' ending, a touch of gracefulness."

Yithael paused.

"It's time for your very first lesson in magic."

Taking in a long, deep breath, Yithael exhaled it in a sing-song chant that rose just above a whisper. "Dricthen thiné ut waepn."

As Yithael's voice tapered off, the dampness leapt from Timothy's clothing in the form of water drops which arced to the ground, as if a strange fountain. Now completely dry, the boy's clothing still looked a sight, but at least he would not catch his death.

His breath caught in his throat, and Yithael coughed a few times into his flowing sleeve. "There. Everything has a cost, young man. Every spell, every incan..." He coughed twice more, sharp sounds that wracked his body. "Incantation."

Before Timothy could respond, he continued. "I'm assuming your belongings are in the saddlebags, still attached to your horse... Penelope, was it?" Yithael asked, scanning the edges of the clearing. "Regardless, we'll look for her." He stepped across the threshold, closed and locked the door behind him, and turned to face Timothy. "Perhaps you remember where you saw her last?" He barely got out the last word before burying his face in his sleeve once more, coughing softly this time. It would only be a few more moments of the coughing; it had been a simple spell to dry off his new apprentice.

[Ebba]

Timothy’s nervousness washed away as the other complimented him, flattered that the other had such good things about the name that he so utterly despised. He felt himself blushing once again, extremely flattered.

“Golly,” Timothy murmured bashfully. Gracefullness? He smiled to himself. If he slipped up (which he knew he would) the man would most definitely realize what a clumsy boor he really was. Graceful was no way to describe him. Though, he fully welcomed the praise. Timothy was honestly speechless that someone actually haddismissed the use of his nickname.

Timothy had always despised his given name. He was named after his father, a man who he detested nowadays. Timothy had never had much in common with his father; in fact, the only thing he felt he'd inherited was his looks and optimism.

One big disconnection between him and his father was that the man liked to hunt. Timothy, knowing his own heavy-handedness, knew he would misuse the guns and shoot something or spear something incorrectly. He remembered his father letting him wield a gun for a few moments, and instinctively Timothy knew he didn’t want to use and wield something so powerful. Magic was a little bit more controlled than a gun or a spear and in his opinon, just as powerful.

It wasn’t as if you could accidentally cast a spell on someone...Right? Eh..He hoped he wouldn’t find out. How embarrassing would it be to accidentally cast a spell on Mister Zhepllryn?

"It's time for your very first lesson in magic." Yithael spoke, catching Timothy’s attention. Already? He thought, smiling wide. At least the other didn't seem to think any less of him for coming to his home acting like a fool.

"Dricthen thiné ut waepn," Yithael went on, and suddenly, Timothy’s apparel seemed to dry instantaneously.

Timothy tried his best to stay composed and refrain from becoming too excited. Though, it was hard not to be amazed by what he saw. Magic was such an amazing thing to the youngster. Upon hearing the cough and the warning, some of his enthusiasm fell. Magic did come with a price. It was a little stupid to refer to such a thing, but he’d learned that rule of magic from a fairy tale his mother used to coee to him at night: Rumplestiltskin. He decided against mentioning that,

“Golly, uhm, well thanks for that..” Timothy spoke feeling just a tad bad the other had to use his energy to relieve him of his wet attire.

“And uhm, yes,” Timothy stepped away from the door frame to allow Yithael out of the home.

“Yes sir," He repeated. "It’s Penelope.” It was a beautiful name; It was what his mother would have named her daughter if she’d had the chance to bear one. She had entrusted Timothy with Penelope, simply because she saw the young boy had taken care of her with the same love and affection his mother had for her.

“You see, I lost her at the creek. After thrustin’ me off, she scampered off in this direction.” He informed him, raising his hand and directing him to the right of the grand tower.

[Myrrha]

"Well then," Yithael began. He looked in the direction Timothy pointed, then pondered his options. They could both search for the horse on foot, Yithael could grab Hazel, his horse, and ride through the surrounding forest on horseback, or he could use magic. On the surface, magic would be the easiest -- it would only take minutes to prepare a locating spell and set it free in the clearing. But it would come at high cost, especially if Yithael widened the radius of the spell to include the entire forest.

Yithael estimated a physical cost could result in a fever, rash or throbbing headache for about 24 hours, and an emotional cost could result in intense grief, crippling anxiety, or molten anger for, again, about 24 hours. He sighed, then cut his eyes toward Timothy and tried to disguise the sigh as a cough. It really wasn't the boy's fault. Well, it was; the boy had been responsible for the horse and managed to lose her and the belongings in the saddlebags, in the process. But it wasn't intentional.

Be it physical or emotional, a day-long cost for the spell could be quite inconvenient, especially with his apprentice trying to settle in. Yithael instinctively knew he couldn't count on Timothy to care for him. If the boy couldn't even watch over a horse, how could he tend to a fever or soothe a paralyzing anxiety? And yet if Yithael tried to seclude himself and tend to the cost, as was his common practise, he would leave the young man alone for an entire day, to wreck whatever havoc he was capable of wrecking in the cozy tower. The cozy tower filled with Yithael's most precious possessions, including scrolls and tomes of lost knowledge.

He shuddered. Okay, magic was out.

Deciding they'd both walk, so the magician could keep a closer eye on his apprentice, Yithael nodded to Timothy.

"That's the direction we'll start in, then." He strode across the forest floor, old leaves crunching beneath his feet, and reached the edge without checking to see that Timothy was behind him. Yithael used a soft nicker, creating a clicking sound he hoped would work as well on Penelope as it did on Hazel. Stepping into the thick forest, Yithael slowed his movements so as not to startle the mare if they happened upon her.

[Ebba]

Timothy followed, head down in shame. Unlike Yithael, Timothy heaved a sigh, knowing this was just a terrible terrible first impression. No matter how much empathy and understanding the other had for him, requiring his help in finding Penelope was just terribly humiliating and pitiable. This was all his fault. Timothy had become rather frustrated being in these unfamiliar woods. Penelope had probably sensed his anxiety and bolted. Guh, he was so stupid. He opened his mouth to apologize again but hesitated when he heard Yithael’s nicker.

Eh, he’d save that for later. Instead of berating himself about being so illy prepared, he looked around for Penelope.

She was a brilliant, amber colored horse; you really couldn’t miss her. Penelope was beautiful, graceful and young; and she was Timothy’s only good friend at this time..

He peered around in search for the majestic horse when suddenly he heard the grass crunch near them. It certainly wasn’t Yithael’s footsteps; he had been watching as the other had proceeded ahead in a sluggish pace. The grass crunched again, and having a chance to listen more closely, he realized the sound was to the right of them. Timothy took another glance at the magician, then, went blatantly ahead and deserted him. Maybe that wasn’t such a good move considering his ineptness, but he felt he had to. He was almost sure Penelope was in this direction.

Moving a branch out of his way, he advanced further away from Yithael, listening closely for any more sounds that something may be near and heard a neigh. It was close as well, as if she was just a mere steps away. He smiled, knowing it just had to be her. What were the odds of running into a wild horse anyway?

He was in such concentration; he wouldn't have known if Yithael had followed after him or not.

Timothy took another step, not expecting to fall face first over a ditch. It was unexpected; the land had been flat up until the vicious ditch.

“Damn it,” Timothy growled, pulling himself off the ground. A bloody nose. What a joy it would be to greet Yithael looking more pitiful than he had before. He got to his feet, finding Penelope grazing on the grass as calm as a cucumber. Timothy stepped closer, greeting her with a smile and clutching his bleeding nose.

“There you are, Penny...” He smiled, reaching out to touch her forehead, a spot where she generally liked to be stroked. Her ears immediately perked up. flicking around excitedly. Not only this, he could feel her relax. He relaxed as well, more happy than worried about how things had ultimately gone wrong.
He felt refreshed. Moreover, finding her and his belongings put him more at ease.

“C’mon, girl. We've got to get going," He turned towards the direction he had came.