Quanil rose, tea entirely forgotten as they stared at the great table, at writing utensils and paper brought out for their use. I'M GOING TO SIT AT THE GREAT TABLE OF THE LORESEEKERS! To work out how to tell their parents that they were leaving to be a Loreseeker, and they'd just have to accept that.
They approached the chair, feeling excited and annoyed at themselves for their excitement over a punishment, over something common and everyday - sit down in a chair, write at a table - and still a little disappointed in themselves in the first place but also still nervous and...
I wonder if this is partially a test of my handwriting skills?
They sat and eyed the utensils put out for them. Ohhhh, how they longed to reach for a quill, to feel Official and Important, but the truth was they'd only had a little practice with ink, and they still tended to smudge it more often than not. After staring longingly at the quills, they bowed to their own pragmatism and picked up a pencil. They sat their Loreseeker pin down where they could look to it, touch it occasionally, make sure it was still real.
What would their parents respond best to? They leaned back in the chair to consider it, but a question distracted them. "Provost Silversmith, sir? Does the guild have somewhere to put its members up at night, or do I have to find my own lodgings? Either is fine," which was something a polite lie, but Quanil would have been happy falling asleep in this chair if they had to. Or that other chair, or even on the floor. Perhaps if they were forced to find lodgings on their own, they'd find a way to make some coin on a regular basis to pay for them, and that would help with the other expenses of being a Loreseeker.
All of this made them feel unqualified for the post all over again. They had no money, the very barest bones of an education (and even those had had quite a lot of marrow scraped out of them), nothing to bring to the great table except their own self.
But the pin sat there, gleaming in the candlelight, still warm from how long they'd held it in their hand. That pin and what it represented meant that their entire life hadn't been and wouldn't be a waste, that they weren't useless, that everything they worried over at night didn't matter.
They approached the chair, feeling excited and annoyed at themselves for their excitement over a punishment, over something common and everyday - sit down in a chair, write at a table - and still a little disappointed in themselves in the first place but also still nervous and...
I wonder if this is partially a test of my handwriting skills?
They sat and eyed the utensils put out for them. Ohhhh, how they longed to reach for a quill, to feel Official and Important, but the truth was they'd only had a little practice with ink, and they still tended to smudge it more often than not. After staring longingly at the quills, they bowed to their own pragmatism and picked up a pencil. They sat their Loreseeker pin down where they could look to it, touch it occasionally, make sure it was still real.
What would their parents respond best to? They leaned back in the chair to consider it, but a question distracted them. "Provost Silversmith, sir? Does the guild have somewhere to put its members up at night, or do I have to find my own lodgings? Either is fine," which was something a polite lie, but Quanil would have been happy falling asleep in this chair if they had to. Or that other chair, or even on the floor. Perhaps if they were forced to find lodgings on their own, they'd find a way to make some coin on a regular basis to pay for them, and that would help with the other expenses of being a Loreseeker.
All of this made them feel unqualified for the post all over again. They had no money, the very barest bones of an education (and even those had had quite a lot of marrow scraped out of them), nothing to bring to the great table except their own self.
But the pin sat there, gleaming in the candlelight, still warm from how long they'd held it in their hand. That pin and what it represented meant that their entire life hadn't been and wouldn't be a waste, that they weren't useless, that everything they worried over at night didn't matter.
