The rush of flying was sensational. Being on top of the world was the sickest feeling ever. Soaring up that high was reckless, even dangerous. It was like hubris or something, standing that high like you could reach out with your hand and touch the sky. There was a myth about something like that, wasn't there?
A shadow in the blue made the young man's eyes flicker in that direction. It couldn't be...here he was, rolling in on the most mondo, one of a kind, never again in your life curl, and there were sharks up here? He turned and cut hard into the tube, convinced that this was something out of a nightmare. That fin was huge, so this shark was no guppy. His wet hair was plastered to the back of his neck and he adjusted the sunglasses perched on his nose. That shark was moving fast but thankfully it didn't seem to care about the board.
Then the wind whipped hard. The wind buffeted the surfer hard and he wobbled, nearly losing his balance. He put his foot down hard, hanging five purely by accident. His toes were tickled by the warm water. He threw another look back over his shoulder. The fin was still there but a bit closer. He turned to face forward again and could see the beach coming up fast. He leaned in and swayed, cutting the glass with expertise. In record time, he surfed right onto the beach, stumbling only as his surfboard hit the wet, dense sand. He jumped off the board like he had stuck a three point landing and, satisfied with himself, turned to look at the wave. It was unfortunate he had to bail, but sharks weren't worth messing with; as he looked, he felt his mouth fall open.
Some three dozen sharks were visible in the tube of the wave. Gnashing mouths and flailing fins made the wave look like some bizarre rotary buzzsaw...and it was headed right for him. He spun around to make a run for it and tripped over his surfboard. He went head over heels and...
THUMP!Quentin groaned. He rubbed the small of his back, on which he had landed when he fell out of bed.
"Gnarly dream," he said to himself, getting up. As he dressed, he tried to make sense of it. He was not particularly worried. The thought of a shark typhoon was cool in its own way. A shark cyclone would be even cooler.
"Nah," he said, grinning. "A shark torn--oh no!"
He looked at the clock in his room. It was already way later than he expected. He had hoped to do some surfing in the morning before he went down to the Guild. Well, "surfing," of a kind. Cuttersbury was not exactly a seaside paradise. Most of the time, Quentin went to a small lake and used his talents to create waves big enough to impress amateurs and old ladies. Quentin booked it from his apartment, hoping that whatever activity would be happening at the Guild, he had not already missed it.
Cuttersbury: GuildIn no more than fifteen minutes, an out-of-breath Quentin came panting through the Guild doors, not long after Jett had made his own splashy entrance. He was surprised at how lively it was, even for the middle of the day. There were lots of faces he had never before seen. Some were talking loudly like they were old friends meeting again for the first time in a long time. He straightened himself, cutting a tall figure in his boots and his navy blue robe with gold trim. He peered over his shades to size up the lot of them. Some of them were pretty cute girls, too. His eyes settled on a fair-haired girl in robes. If he had to guess, she was a mage just like him.
Always one to seize the opportunity to make a new friend, Quentin adjusted the dark sunglasses he had been wearing even in his sleep and approached the cute, fair-haired girl. "Hey there. I've never seen you around here before. If you don't mind me saying, what's a cute girl like you doing in a sleepy little place like this? Especially a mage, if I had to guess."
His addressee looked up at him curiously. Marcus then considered the best way to respond to Quentin.