Zariah introduces herself, another person that uses a last name as if Weaver might care. Granted, it is a last name that imparts meaning, and she finds herself tucking that bit of information away for later as more come, and Zariah gives them tasks. Weaver tucks their names away as well as Zariah uses them, particularly Neron because she knows that name. So that’s their new Warden. She would have spent more time appraising him if she wasn’t in company that she wasn’t trying to piss off. This school is important to her even if she cannot help but be uncertain about so many outlanders in her home. To her credit though, she has not passed judgment one way or another, giving them time to earn the judgment. She is willing to give chances.
Of course she is assigned to the worst task of solving the problem of memory snow. It is the worst task only in so much as it would be the coldest task, but she realizes that of all of them she is best equipped to deal with this problem. Weaver has grown up with memory snow that often liked to sit in front of her door or block an important walkway through the streets. As children, she and Kobin would build things out of memory snow. It liked to have shape, she’d learned, and would hold that shape rather easily and stay out of the way.
She heads up the stairs, pushing her way through the door where the snow has decided to be inconvenient. “Well hello snow,” she says, because yes, she talks to memory snow. There were tales in Halo that it understood language, and Weaver wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not but it definitely didn’t hurt. “Let’s turn you into something cooler than a lump of snow, okay?” She begins to work, relocating the snow away from the door a few feet. She didn’t need to take it far so long as she gave it a purpose, because memory snow liked having a purpose.
Then she begins to build. It’s a shame Korbin isn’t here to help her, as he was a better artist, but she’d been doing this for so long that she wasn’t terrible. Slowly the shape of the palace begins to form, a waist high replica of the real thing that sat not too far away from them now. A few times she ducks inside to warm her hands and feet before heading back out to keep working on the mini-palace. After a while, the little replica looks pretty good and she stands up, clapping her hands together to remove the extra snow.
Feeling pretty pleased with herself, she heads back inside to warm up. The memory snow wouldn’t go back to block the door and the mini-palace could be a useful thing to kick over in frustration or blast with some magic, if someone really felt inclined. The mini-palace would just come back, a little piece of magic sitting on the top of a school for it. It felt fitting.
Of course she is assigned to the worst task of solving the problem of memory snow. It is the worst task only in so much as it would be the coldest task, but she realizes that of all of them she is best equipped to deal with this problem. Weaver has grown up with memory snow that often liked to sit in front of her door or block an important walkway through the streets. As children, she and Kobin would build things out of memory snow. It liked to have shape, she’d learned, and would hold that shape rather easily and stay out of the way.
She heads up the stairs, pushing her way through the door where the snow has decided to be inconvenient. “Well hello snow,” she says, because yes, she talks to memory snow. There were tales in Halo that it understood language, and Weaver wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not but it definitely didn’t hurt. “Let’s turn you into something cooler than a lump of snow, okay?” She begins to work, relocating the snow away from the door a few feet. She didn’t need to take it far so long as she gave it a purpose, because memory snow liked having a purpose.
Then she begins to build. It’s a shame Korbin isn’t here to help her, as he was a better artist, but she’d been doing this for so long that she wasn’t terrible. Slowly the shape of the palace begins to form, a waist high replica of the real thing that sat not too far away from them now. A few times she ducks inside to warm her hands and feet before heading back out to keep working on the mini-palace. After a while, the little replica looks pretty good and she stands up, clapping her hands together to remove the extra snow.
Feeling pretty pleased with herself, she heads back inside to warm up. The memory snow wouldn’t go back to block the door and the mini-palace could be a useful thing to kick over in frustration or blast with some magic, if someone really felt inclined. The mini-palace would just come back, a little piece of magic sitting on the top of a school for it. It felt fitting.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
