The sudden sound of the driver shouting obscenities at some unseen passerby caused Mizzie to whip her head towards the front of the carriage she was in, staring past the stocky silver-haired dwarf on the seat across from her until his adjusting one of the buttons on his fine coat drew her attention, her body visibly tensing as if the motion could be hostile. By then, the dwarf was used to her… idiosyncrasies, such as how she was always holding the front of her shirt, and so he did little more than still his hands on his lap as the carriage continued rattling on down the cobble road through the chief city of Preicana: Maldoryn. As expected of a capital city, the sound of merchants in the street, people talking as they walked, and the sound of other carriages combined into a cacophony that those more used to rural environments might find grating. Mizzie certainly didn’t seem to appreciate the noise, wincing every now and again as she peered out the window like a caged animal, her focus primarily on the College above, just visible on the other side of town.
Pondering again what could have happened to the girl to make her so jumpy and afraid, the dwarf, Dalkin, noticed the subtle difference in the sound that the carriage was making that indicated they were on the bridge that led to the College itself. Before too much longer, they would arrive and she would be out of his beard. It wasn’t that she was all that unlikable though. It was just that she was hard to manage, especially for a dwarf of his age. He was really glad that they had had good traveling weather to make up for the time he had spent being interrogated in a small town on the way. That experience was how he knew not to touch her, or even seem as if he was for that matter. Honestly, he had never heard anyone so small scream so loudly or for as long. It was amazing that the lass still had a voice at all!
Drawn out of his reverie by the sudden, jerking stop of the cart, Dalkin opened the door and stepped out into the muted light coming from the dark gray clouds above. From the looks of things, another snowstorm was imminent, which wasn’t all that surprising for where they were. He didn’t spend too much time contemplating the weather, however, moving several feet away from the carriage and indicating that the staff getting ready to remove his luggage from the back do the same. He knew by then that the small girl wouldn’t budge until she felt that it was safe to do so. As expected, the girl peered around the corners of the door after a few moments before hopping out, almost tumbling as her legs hit the cobblestone.
“You need to go through those doors over there, lass,” he said, taking a few steps forward to catch her attention. Seeming about ready to have a heart attack, she started to creep towards the door as if she wanted to avoid drawing any attention to herself whatsoever. Sighing, Dalkin wished mercy on whoever had to deal with her now that she was technically no longer his responsibility. Of course, he wished her the best as well, though he didn’t have much time to dwell on what awaited her at the College, the sound of a trunk hitting the ground drawing his attention back to the carriage where two men were struggling to lower a chest from the back of the carriage. “Oy! Be careful with my luggage!” he shouted, the girl and her plight already pushed to the back of his mind.
In the meantime, Mizzie had made it through the thick wooden doors, peering into the foyer apprehensively before entering fully. The only other individual in the room at the moment was a younger-looking lady behind the desk scribbling away at something with a quill pen before folding it up and stamping a silver ring to it and setting in a pile. She looked up when the door opened, crooking a finger at Mizzie to let her know that she needed to come to the desk. Chest tightening again, Mizzie made her way to the desk, her bare feet making a soft sound on the marble floor of the foyer.
As she neared the desk, her grip on the collar of her shirt tightened to keep from revealing the silvery mark underneath that proclaimed her status as a Dark Mage to anyone who saw it. “What’s your name, sweetie?” the lady asked, brushing a loose strand of brown hair behind the pointed ear that marked her as an elf of some kind. Though there was a slight furrow in her brow, her voice and expression were kind, which was a teensy bit comforting to the smaller elf.
“Miz’ri A’Daragon,” Mizzie replied, her voice almost too quiet to hear at all. Somehow, the receptionist seemed to understand her, using her finger to make a little mark on something that Mizzie couldn’t see at all. The fear that they were going to take her away for being a Dark Mage revived itself in her mind, causing her to visibly shake as she waited for the receptionist to speak again. She had heard what happened to the evil people like her, and the thought of being found out and suffering the same fate terrified her.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” the lady asked, her voice breaking through the grip Mizzie’s fears had on her. Mizzie merely nodded jerkily in response, though the lady didn’t look convinced. Regardless, she didn’t push the issue and continued. “If you want, you can sit over there until Evern comes to get you. You’re early, so it might be a while.” Once again, Mizzie didn’t respond beyond a simple nod, heading over to a plush-looking bench against one of the walls of the foyer, her feet dangling over the edge once she was seated. To be honest, she didn’t understand why they would be so careless if they knew that she was a Dark Mage, but she could really do little more than wait and find out what they had planned.
Pondering again what could have happened to the girl to make her so jumpy and afraid, the dwarf, Dalkin, noticed the subtle difference in the sound that the carriage was making that indicated they were on the bridge that led to the College itself. Before too much longer, they would arrive and she would be out of his beard. It wasn’t that she was all that unlikable though. It was just that she was hard to manage, especially for a dwarf of his age. He was really glad that they had had good traveling weather to make up for the time he had spent being interrogated in a small town on the way. That experience was how he knew not to touch her, or even seem as if he was for that matter. Honestly, he had never heard anyone so small scream so loudly or for as long. It was amazing that the lass still had a voice at all!
Drawn out of his reverie by the sudden, jerking stop of the cart, Dalkin opened the door and stepped out into the muted light coming from the dark gray clouds above. From the looks of things, another snowstorm was imminent, which wasn’t all that surprising for where they were. He didn’t spend too much time contemplating the weather, however, moving several feet away from the carriage and indicating that the staff getting ready to remove his luggage from the back do the same. He knew by then that the small girl wouldn’t budge until she felt that it was safe to do so. As expected, the girl peered around the corners of the door after a few moments before hopping out, almost tumbling as her legs hit the cobblestone.
“You need to go through those doors over there, lass,” he said, taking a few steps forward to catch her attention. Seeming about ready to have a heart attack, she started to creep towards the door as if she wanted to avoid drawing any attention to herself whatsoever. Sighing, Dalkin wished mercy on whoever had to deal with her now that she was technically no longer his responsibility. Of course, he wished her the best as well, though he didn’t have much time to dwell on what awaited her at the College, the sound of a trunk hitting the ground drawing his attention back to the carriage where two men were struggling to lower a chest from the back of the carriage. “Oy! Be careful with my luggage!” he shouted, the girl and her plight already pushed to the back of his mind.
In the meantime, Mizzie had made it through the thick wooden doors, peering into the foyer apprehensively before entering fully. The only other individual in the room at the moment was a younger-looking lady behind the desk scribbling away at something with a quill pen before folding it up and stamping a silver ring to it and setting in a pile. She looked up when the door opened, crooking a finger at Mizzie to let her know that she needed to come to the desk. Chest tightening again, Mizzie made her way to the desk, her bare feet making a soft sound on the marble floor of the foyer.
As she neared the desk, her grip on the collar of her shirt tightened to keep from revealing the silvery mark underneath that proclaimed her status as a Dark Mage to anyone who saw it. “What’s your name, sweetie?” the lady asked, brushing a loose strand of brown hair behind the pointed ear that marked her as an elf of some kind. Though there was a slight furrow in her brow, her voice and expression were kind, which was a teensy bit comforting to the smaller elf.
“Miz’ri A’Daragon,” Mizzie replied, her voice almost too quiet to hear at all. Somehow, the receptionist seemed to understand her, using her finger to make a little mark on something that Mizzie couldn’t see at all. The fear that they were going to take her away for being a Dark Mage revived itself in her mind, causing her to visibly shake as she waited for the receptionist to speak again. She had heard what happened to the evil people like her, and the thought of being found out and suffering the same fate terrified her.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” the lady asked, her voice breaking through the grip Mizzie’s fears had on her. Mizzie merely nodded jerkily in response, though the lady didn’t look convinced. Regardless, she didn’t push the issue and continued. “If you want, you can sit over there until Evern comes to get you. You’re early, so it might be a while.” Once again, Mizzie didn’t respond beyond a simple nod, heading over to a plush-looking bench against one of the walls of the foyer, her feet dangling over the edge once she was seated. To be honest, she didn’t understand why they would be so careless if they knew that she was a Dark Mage, but she could really do little more than wait and find out what they had planned.