OOC: Fine. I'll do it, I'll post. You can all die in a fire ;_;
Nervousness didn't begin to describe how Wanhope felt. Even here, in a room separated from the other promotees he felt the nearness of the crowd. His whole life Wanhope had ever interacted with maybe ten other people, and the idea of suddenly living in an academy with two thousand others was a terrifying idea for him, though he bore it stoically enough. He never resented his parents for what they had done. Despite any of their other flaws Jorvin Delkastes and Irumani Ceres loved each other and their son, Wanhope. They had done only what was necessary, a fact Wanhope eventually learned through his studies. If anyone had discovered him before they knew what he could do he would of endangered not himself but the community of Magi as a whole. At least if they left him alone in the middle of the countryside he couldn't hurt anyone if he went insane and became uncontrollable. It was prudent, wise.
Still, some part of Wanhope knew what he had lost. Other children got to laugh and play in the field through their youth. When some children learn to spell their name, Wanhope was reciting intricate conjurations. Other children got to lose their innocence. Since the time he could understand words he had been told that many people would want him dead. Wanhope had never lost his innocence. He was never allowed to have it to begin with. And he certainly had never learned how to deal with other people. His father had given him a brief primer on his journey here, but nothing could prepare him for this. Even talking to the porter who had led him here was a trial. He always looked at Wanhope so expectantly, waiting for an answer Wanhope didn't know to simple questions like "May I take your baggage to your rooms?". He honestly didn't know how he would handle being in front of two thousand people. Fortunately, his father said all he had to do was nod and agree, then shake the hands of the six Master Artists, three of whom he knew already.
The abrupt beam of light from the suddenly open door woke Wanhope from his reverie.
"You're on in four minutes, boy. Be ready." Came the voice of a man Wanhope had never seen in his life before the door slammed shut again. Annoyed, Wanhope quietly whispered "Lumen" to summon a small light in the otherwise dark room. It wasn't that the dark bothered him, like all Noctomasters he could see in darkness as well as light. It was just that mirrors tended to be damn hard to use in pure darkness, and he wanted to make sure he looked perfect, to please his parents if nothing else.
To his untrained eye, Wanhope thought he looked pretty good in the mirror. His hair was hopeless, but he had pretty much accepted that it was an tamable beast at this stage of his life. His robes were immaculate, nothing blemishing the pure black and white coloring. His mask was in perfect place, covering absolutely everything except his eyes. His hands were cleaned, his nails recently cut. Even his facial hair had been magically shaved earlier that morning. For a grim moment Wanhope wondered if his mask would ever be allowed to come off. Even training with his mother and father they had insisted it stay on, while they themselves went without. A part of him longed for that level of intimacy. Among wizards kissing was even more intimate then making love, since you could fuck with a mask, but kissing one with one was difficult, a fact reinforced by Wanhope's mask covering even his lips. He placed a hand on the mirror delicately tracing his big, blue eyes in the mirror, somewhat dreaming of a time when there would be no masks, or at least a day or a night. As if in a trance, Wanhope's hands slowly moved to his mask, and he was about to remove it when the door swung ajar yet again.
"You're up kid, let's go!" The man came and more or less pushed him from the room into a corridor filled with the other promotees. This group had been those going to Magae from Magi. Wanhope was the only Weaver to be promoted today, and as he passed he envied the excited chatter of the young men and women, each jesting and celebrating with peers of years, friends they'd had their whole life. Wanhope's only friend had been his own Magic. Not the best of friends for a young man. As he passed, he heard his mother's voice introducing her, magically amplified so the enormous gather could hear her.
"Finally, we have today a Magi who has again and again proved his worth. One who has passed all the trials of his order to obtain a rank coveted my many, and dishonored by none. But, before we show him to you, we must warn you. He's like nothing you've ever seen, for this Magi, Wanhope Ceres, the son of myself and Noctomaster Delkastres is the first Magi in over a millenium to be the master of two elements. Both Darkness and Light." She paused for dramatic effect and wasn't disappointed. Wanhope could hear the crowd's disbelief as he got led the wings of the great stage.
"We know it may sound difficult to believe, and in fact at first we didn't. But after fifteen years of training and observation, we're sure he's sane enough to welcome to our halls. Don't let his youth fool you, he has definitely earned his rank. Honored Magi, is is m duty, no my pleasure to introduce to you the Academy's newest Weaver, Wanhope Ceres."
In start contrast to the thunderous applause the other promotees had gotten, the hall was completely silent as Wanhope walked onto stage. Every eye burrowed into him, and he nearly flinched from the strain of maintaining his impassive visage in front of so many people. He dared on look at the crowd, and found himself drawn in by their eyes. Some gazed at him in complete hatred, which he had come to expect. They were all bound by their rules, their colors. He was not, so that response was warranted. Then there were those that gazed at him awe, which was most every apprentice and aethling in the group. He supposed they would look at most any weaver the same way, and he could tell the young ones had no idea of the implication of his mere existence.
The most profound though, were what he saw in the eldest of the Magi. In many of their eyes he saw genuine hope. Hope that maybe one day the world wouldn't have to be so black and white, or so color coded. Maybe one day men would be judged by more then their robes, and maybe the rules could be beaten.
And then he was before his mother as she gave him a new pendant, the gift he had chosen for his ascension to Weaver. The Academy always bestowed a gift upon a Magi when their rank increased. When one became a Magi they were given their mask, a Thickly bound tome that resisted all elements when one became a Magae. Weavers were given a symbol of their own soul in whatever form they chose. Wanhope had asked for a pendant, simply because he'd never had one. As he looked down at it, he knew it was perfect for him. It was a circular stone, decorated in a pattern common in the east where half the stone was white and the other black, and each had a bit of the other in it. It was some sort of dharmic thing to them, but here in the western lands I t was more of a decoration then anything, but it's significance was not lost on Wanhope. His was normal, but instead of the normal circles that the design would have he had a white sun on the black and a black moon on the white side. It instantly became his most prized possession, even more so then his mask, which he had made with his own bare hands.
His mother's hand jostled him from his thoughts again as she led him to the other Master Artists, each of whom shook his hand and congratulated him. Armstrong nearly turned his palm to mush and would have hugged him had his father not laid a restraining hand on his arm. Finally, still surrounded by utter silence, Wanhope was led off the stage.
I guess it could have been worse. Wanhope thought wryly as he waited back in the other room, waiting for his father to lead him to his new rooms.
----
"Father, why do they all hate me so much?" Wanhope asked an hour later as his father led him to his quarters. Unlike the quarters of most Noctomaster, which were deep in the mountain, Wanhope had special rooms just for him constructed at the surface of the mountain, high up near the Lumenomasters rooms. Wanhope once again wondered why he was forced away from everyone again, but he appreciated the gesture. Here, we accept you're different. Stay here where you can have Darkness or Light, it seemed to say.
"Son, never confuse jealousy for hatred. These damn accords that force us into the Attuning...Many of us don't accept them, and none of us like them. Imagine how the Geos feel, watching the Aeros soar over their heads. Imagine the Pyro who time and time again is neutered by the smallest effort of a hydro. Imagine that irritation. You have no such problem, and they envy that. It's not that they hate Wanhope Ceres, I doubt anyone honestly could. What they hate is the Lumenomaster who is also a Noctomaster. That is what they envy. Your power."
Wanhope nodded, accepting his Father's words. Jorvin was one a dying breed, Noctomasters who were pure at heart. Probably how he managed to wed the Irumani, who was beyond even the word beautiful. She was worshiped as Saint in most rural cultures. Jorvin was a great man, if less well-known, and Wanhope had learned long ago to listen to his father's sage advice.
"Speaking of power," His father said as he opened the door to his new quarters. "Meet your new apprentices."
