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holy shiznit i canāt believe i almost missed day 1 of @gentapprentices week,Ā āMagic Manā!Ā
Jamie specializes in the magic of shapeshifting, physically able to turn his body into the body of an animal he has seen and knows well. His animal of choice is usually a wolf, as the trouble with this magic is that the farther it is from his physical form, the more painful it is to become it (i.e. it would probably kill Jamie to try to turn into a worm, but a wolf is something closer to his original form so it doesnāt hurt as bad to shapeshift into - think Animorphs).Ā
This bled out naturally into illusion magic and prestidigitation abilities, such as deepening shadows, once he started to learn more about magic under more proper channels later on. :0)
Ihsan specializes in protection and construction magics. Mostly, he works in fending off attacks, magical and otherwise, and creating protective charms and barriers. Heās not very good at offensive magical attacks but his barriers are nothing to sneeze at; theyāve been known to rebound attacks and kill the source. Julian is, incidentally, very lucky that he meant no harm when he broke into the shop, otherwise heād have gotten more than a bottle to the head.Ā Ihsan has some skill in using magic to create structures which shouldnāt exist or to hide rooms, that sort of thing. When he and Nadia first arrived in Vesuvia, he assisted her in building her meditation chamber and hiding it from outsiders.
His magic doesnāt have a particular color, itās translucent.Ā
Green magic comes naturally to Haidi. His mother, Zainaba, was formidable at it, and his earliest memories were of clinging to her sweet smelling scarves as she brewed magic in her kitchen. When he left his plague ravaged village with his mentor, her thick recipe book was one of the few things he carried. He keeps adding to that book with his own discoveries. He doesn't need to write down a recipe to remember it- (during his recovery, his instincts in the kitchen were the first to resurface), but he has that annoying expert-cook habit of going "oh you'll know the measure of spice by the feel of it", and he understands the importance of preserving knowledge.
He has tinctures and poultices and potions and brews for just about anything, and is an expert at sourcing herbs and checking the ingredients for quality. Healing is his particular interest- everything from anti-depressant teas to soups that cure the pox. But he's also very creative with his work. He incorporates a couple of magical ingredients into even the most seemingly mundane things he cooks. The butter on the toast has a little bit of goldenglow, and he's snuck down to the red market for a few ingredients for a hummus that brightens Asra right back up after a long, tiresome journey. He's made moisturizers and lotions that Lucio would pay, and has paid, several fortunes for, and skin-safe makeup that's gained tremendous traction in Vesuvia from the Heart District to South End. Him and Mazelinka often swap recipes, and they have many joint kitchen hangouts, until the lovely scents suffuse the streets at South End, and soon there'd be visitors at the door to ask for their share. He also has something packed up and brewed for everytime he visits anyone. A wonderful curing blend for Nadia's bath, a piping hot, mildly enchanted lunch for the good doctor, a hair conditioner that nourishes and tempers the most stubborn of Devorak curls, robust treats that sneakily enhance bone strength for wolves and chickens alike, and of course, sparkling bath bombs and brews with ingredients that aid in meditatively opening portals to other realms- it's how Haider accesses his own gateway, and of course, there are realm-dates with the magician of his heart.
Over the course of his apprenticeships with his mentor, Sybilla, there have been several magicians who've unwisely made light of his kind of magic. It did make him insecure for a bit, particularly because the other kinds of magic never came easily to him at all. But Haider respects his work, and he's plenty capable of standing up for himself. And when he can't, well, let's say he's also very loved, and there are several people who'd put any detractors in their place for him, and assure him of what he's capable of.
After The Fool's body debacle, other forms of magic do come far easier to him now. His aura brims with Arcane magic, after all. He likes it, he loves incorporating his other capabilities into his green magic practice. But Haider's kitchen will always be his sanctuary, and green magic would always be sacred to him.
After all, green magic is about community, care, and healing, things that Haidi values above all else, things he'd gladly devote his life to, now that he has it again.
One week leftĀ ātil Gentleman Apprentice Week kicks off - hereās another pre-week prompt to start the countdown!
He cooks, he cleans - or does he? Tell us (or show us!) some of the things your apprentice likes to do when heās not busy saving the world and falling in love!
Please reblog from the original or create a new post to keep this thread from getting too long.
Gentleman Apprentice Week is August 9-15 | More Prompts
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What are the depths of your apprenticeās despair? What was his lowest point? Does he have a scar with a story, or a memory that hurts? Or was something or someone lost forever?Ā
Please reblog from the original or create a new post to keep this thread from getting too long.
Gentleman Apprentice Week is August 9-15 | More Prompts
thank you @gentapprentices for such a fun week so far!! im loving seeing everyoneās masc folks having a fun time!
I actually wrote a fic on this, Shift about my apprentice Jamie coming to Vesuvia and meeting Asra for the first time, and then later Nadia, Muriel, and Lucio before the Plague. Itās stinking cute, and hereās a little segment from the first chapter, the Magician, when the fated two meet in the most cliche of circumstances. Itās written from 1rst person POV, 9 years before the canon.
The sun glimmers brightly overhead as I make my way down the crowded streets, weaving between shoppers while keeping close to the fringes of the walkways. I cusp around the edges of the multicolored stalls to avoid the majority of foot traffic, but itās proving hard as itās a particularly busy day in the market, everyone is out and about, not just buying but lingering, talking over each other with excited voices in large clusters spanning the entire street. Somethingās happening in Vesuvia today, something special. As much as Iād like to know what that something is, I donāt want to get caught up with the crowdā¦ itās been a long day.Ā
Today of all days I feel my patience is shorter, Isaac was a bit more of a hardass than usual and it makes the above-average bustle of the street that much more difficult for me to handle, every voice seems to multiply and reverberate in my thoughts like the vibration of insect wings. Iāve lived here for a month now, trying to get by and make a living and itās been alright thus far, especially since Ksasthra took me in; here is better than there and there was worse than that, so long and so forth, unimportant details now because this is better. Vesuvia is going to be better for me. I can feel it.Ā
A colorful stream from a showcased scarf plays in front of me on a caught breeze as I try to make my way through the market stalls heading towards the lower district, I have to duck to avoid the hawking shopkeeper so I donāt get drawn into a purchase. Luckily, the multitude of customers I have to dodge and weave to get through keep them busy enough to not pay me the slightest attention. I just finished my shift at the local community theatre, doing basic backstage work for all sorts of performances, and right now I want nothing more than to hide away in my small, shared apartment by the waterfront and rest, especially while the one who agreed to house me, Ksasthra, is still back at the theatre for work until much later. The work I did today wasnāt particularly stressful or anything, but being around my coworkers just made me tired. I still feel like thereās hot breath on the back of my neck wherever I turn, and even now itās still a hard thought to shake.Ā
I originally questioned my own decision in living in a city - Iāve never lived in an area with more than a hundred people in a given spot - but at the time I made the choice, I thought I had no choice. There just arenāt any jobs out in the foothills, and I never learned how to live off the land alone. Though, mostly it was the fact that my attempts to blend in or hide in the vast, sparsely populated, wintry lands of the deep northeast proved largely unsuccessful. Soon I had the realization that my best bet of finally being left alone was to find someplace where I could melt into a crowd. And in order to melt, one must first find a crowd, so to the city I had to go. Vesuvia was the largest, farthest city I couldāve gone to without taking a boat, so it was to Vesuvia I went to escapeā¦ to escape. It helped as well that the further south I went, the less peopleās gazes would cling to my shoulders, which I quite liked. A lot. Iām not sure why though, for Iām certain I stick out like a sore thumb anywhere. Up north it was theā¦ thingsā¦ I could do. Here itās the fact that everyone is colorful and loud and Iām not.
I donāt like being around people, usually because people also donāt like to be around me. Iāmā¦ weird, for lack of a better word. I have certainā¦ abilities that other people donāt have, and in my experience if you have something that other people donāt they either envy you or fear you, and both of those things are the worst emotions to see on other faces. But here, in a city full of so much vibrant color, varient life, people of a hundred different typesā¦ Iām just another uninteresting face. Thatās what I wanted when I came here. Itās thoughts like this that keep my grounded when I get too overwhelmed by citylife around here, such as now, when Iām just trying to get home. Before I came to Vesuvia, I would see the amount of people on this street alone over the span of several months. Itās still veryā¦ difficult to get used to this new atmosphere, even three months later. Almost to the street corner, almost there, then Iām home freeā¦ Maybe I can finally finish that book Ksasthra gave meā¦Ā
Suddenly, over the jumbled voices of the shoppers on the street, loud, victorious trumpets resound through the air, stealing all eyes from their tasks to the mouth of the street far down the way. I look up and peer through the heads and shoulders of onlookers to try and see what it is thatās causing such a disturbance before I realize that regardless of whatever it is, this is the perfect opportunity to escape through the crowd to the lower district. Quickly I turn and make my way there, but as I grow close to the corner I realize that whatever is happening is also happening on this end of the street; I see mounted soldiers in gleaming silver armor bearing unfamiliar emblems on tall, colorful standards and shining trumpets, using both of these items to loudly announcing the presence of someone important, someone that I now realize is about to enter this street.Ā
Other shoppers quickly seem to realize this as well, and like a tidal wave people start to shove others from the middle of the street into the outskirts, pressing shopkeepers back behind their stall counters and pushing everyone in their way into the wooden fixtures. I barely get out of the way just as a burly masculine figure makes his way through but I get caught up in the wave as others start hurrying out of the streetās center, I scurry to keep upright.Ā
Suddenly I get shoved back by a gaggle of inattentive shoppers trying to get out of the way right as I try to duck between stalls. I trip and lose my footing, I let out an innately sharp cry as fear of being tramped leaps into my throat but before I hit the ground I smash straight through a market standās doorway, which was just a wooden bar draped with a velvety, purple cloth hemmed with gold trim. My shoulders smack the cobblestones as a multitude of things fall on me from the counterās surface, ripped down from when I took the tablecloth with me. I hold up my hands as Iām hit with a waft of rich, heady herbs and dried grasses, then with strange light smacks, like a small stack of papers just fell on me.Ā
Hands reach under my arms and pull me a little farther backwards into the stall I had fallen into, the touch startles me so much I flinch, making the hands immediately disappear. An intimate voice like honey and wind gasps by my ear over the loud din of the rowdy street, āAre you alright?āĀ
When the strange hands touch me I snap back to attention and regain my bearings like the flare of a starting fire, I sit up and blink as I try to figure out where I am right when I meet the strangerās gazeā¦ layers of periwinkle, lavender, and lilac, glimmering like stardust in the evening sunshine. They appear masculine presenting, young like me, definitely not old enough to be considered fully gown, with hazelnut skin that gleams like bronze armor and thick, fluffy, silver-white hair that hangs over those starry eyes in wild, soft curls. Starry they are in more ways than one, because the stranger stares at me with such an awestruck expression I suddenly feel incredibly self conscious half-lying on the floor of their stall - it must be their stall, as theyāre the only one behind the counterā¦ The counter I just fell through getting pushed by the crowd.Ā
āIā¦! Oh no, Iām so sorry!ā I stammer in embarrassment, brushing myself off as I perch my feet in preparation to stand, though as I do I realize Iām covered in all kinds of herbs, dried flowers, and other reagents that I mustāve accidentally taken with me when I ripped this cloth off the counter in my fall. There are also a dozen or more rather beautiful cards scattered on the cobblestones, though they are like no deck of betting cards Iāve ever seen, even at a passing glance and I can tell as such. An array of masks also accompany this strange collection, the first two I see is one that depicts a fox with little ornamental gems hanging from the ears, the other thatās rugged wood configured in a bearās face with runes carved into its realistically crafted fur. The strangerās hands linger no longer on but near my shoulders as I pull myself upright, he continues to stare at me with wide, owlish eyes as I speak so fast my words bumble over each other, āI didnāt mean to, that was completely on accident, please forgive me-!āĀ
āItās alright!ā The boy quickly speaks again with that same gentle, sweet tone, gripping my shoulders to return my gaze to his lavender hues rather than to the cobblestones now littered with his stallās offerings, and this time I donāt flinch. His lilac eyes flicker across my features then down over my form, checking for injuries as he mutters, āYouāre not hurt, are you?āĀ
I shake my head, kneeling down as I try to gather the fallen reagents and masks onto the purple cloth and recollect the fallen, oriental cards, āIām fine, Iām fine! Iām so sorry, I shouldāve been paying better attention, let me help-āĀ
āHey, hey, itās okay.ā His hands, with long dextrous fingers, smooth palms and marble-carved knuckles breach my vision and stall my hands where they are hovering over the cloth, returning my gaze back to his. I start when I feel the sparks under my skin where we touch, but now that Iām paying better attention I realize itās not simply just me being startled by the touch, but rather it seems to be some sort ofā¦ energyā¦ coming from this boy. A deep torrent of something, power, internal lightning, vitality, runs under his palms like I plunged my hands into the rush of a waterfall.Ā
He smiles at me when I remeet his gaze, a warm and amicable smile that showcases a handsome dimple in his left cheek as he hums, āReally, itās alright.āĀ
I let out a slightly relieved breath, and look back down at our conjoined hands over the spilled tablecloth. Does he feel it, too? Iāve never felt someoneās aura so tangibly before-Ā
I realize this must be strange, how I loiter over his hands, so I quickly clear my throat and pull mine away. āErmā¦ What do I owe you for your lost goods?ā Idly to distract myself from the embarrassment I pick up a small fallen herb between my thumb and forefinger, I think itās a rose petal as thatās what it smells like, then one of the fallen cards; it depicts a plain with a sun hanging overhead with long, golden beams down onto the grass, a numeral 0 at the bottom to show which way is up or down I suppose. It looks hand painted too, very ornate and intimately crafted, itās incredibly impressive, did he paint this himself? I hold these two things up with a curious hum, I glance back up at the stranger after a moment and tilt my head to the side,Ā āWhatāre you selling, anyway?ā
The boy looks at the rose petal in my hand, then at the card, and then back at me with that same owlish look as before right as the air rings with more trumpets, and the crowd just outside of the safe haven of the stall begins to warble. Intrigued, the both of us rise up to look over the counter just in time to see a carriage driving by through the carved path in the streets that the people have rushed to clear. The carriage is richly ornamented, emblazoned with the same colors as the crests the armored knights accompanying it carry, and obviously is not Vesuvian made, drawn by one white, one black horse with thick, luxurious manes. In the open windows the pulled back, rich violet drapes reveal a regal, female presenting person inside. I only get a few seconds to see her through the crowd, though just by her long, royal facial features and her stature alone I know that she must be some sort of powerful noble, most likely from a far away land.Ā
Once the carriage passes and the knights fall in on her, the crowds bustle and burst with noise, people whisper amongst themselves theories of who this newcomer is. I idly recall that there was supposed to be some big summer festival happening soon, so perhaps sheās here for that. Though, Iām not very keen on politics or current events beyond that a war just ended, so I donāt know much beyond that. And, frankly, itās a miracle I know that much. The politics of this land are very different than they are back up in the depths of the northeast. There things areā¦ very different.Ā
In my peripheral I see the stranger moving again, so I turn towards him just as he lifts the herbs, the masks, and the cards, which we had collected onto the fallen tablecloth, back onto the counter. Then he lifts a hidden leather satchel from within the stallās inner walls and pack them away inside it, slotting the cards carefully in his palm as he goes. The movements of his arms draw my gaze away from his face for the first time and instead to the layers of colorful cloth around his person; his half-buttoned baby blue tunic that reveals his sternum and a little more above a dark magenta scarf with gold fringes that hangs across one of his shoulders and around his neck. He also dons a vibrant pink, blue, and peach overcoat without sleeves covered in radial patterns, and black trousers that his blouse is loosely tucked into. I swear I see something move around his waist beneath his coat but before I get the chance to investigate further he turns in my direction. Beneath his scarf I catch a glimmer of gold, a choker; itās engraved with waved designs and somewhat blends in with the rich hues of his skin. Below that a turquoise pendant on a leather chord around his neck hangs over the bared part of his chest in a manner that makes it gleam like the depths of the sea in the sunlight. Richly adorned with beautiful baubles, just like everyone in this city, yet somehowā¦ different. Unique.Ā
Suddenly I realize just where my eyes are lingering so I quickly snap my attention to his face, where it should have been this whole time. As soon as I do he fixes his gaze to mine and speaks in a low hum, āIt doesnāt look like anything was damaged, no need to worry.ā A sudden, sly smirk slightly plays the edge of his lips as he catches my gaze, I wonder idly if he caught me looking over his form as he adds with a more heartfelt touch, āIām glad youāre alright.āĀ
I blink at him in surprise and feel another rush of crimson snaking its way to my face, I have to clear my throat and rein in my thoughts to pull my attention back to the present. āRight! Of courseā¦ Yes. I mean, good. Thatās good to hear. That nothing was damaged, I meanā¦ā Jamie, please. I glance over at the broken wooden shards on the ground and paw them with my boot as my mouth continues to run, āNot even something for the stall door?ā
The amusement in the boyās eyes lights like sparks flying from a blacksmithās hammer as he regards me, a small chuckle escapes his lips as he begins to fold the now-empty tablecloth on his now-barren stall. āIf youāre truly so troubledā¦ā He pauses as if heās reconsidering his words but after the momentās hesitation he continues, his expression morphing from teasing and playful to curious andā¦ hopeful, almost. āI was just going to close up shop anyway to get dinnerā¦ I wouldnāt be opposed to company. Would you consider that a form of ārepaymentā?ā He says this with a lilt of sly humor, the light of the evening sun making his gaze seem to truly dance with entertainment.
Now, I am no fool, but for a moment he almost had me thinking that I was one, as my mind reeled and somersaulted over itself trying to figure out what he was implying, but once it finally hits me like a clock striking midnight I blink with a stunned hum as I nervously worm my fingertips into the strap of my satchel around my shoulder. ā... Oh!āĀ
The boyās gaze softens, quickly adding after a moment as he folds his tablecloth in triangles, āOnly if you want to, of course. Itās not every day that someone falls into my stallā¦ I simply canāt help but think itās a sign of some sort. Iād love to know what kind of sign it is by getting to know you a little.āĀ
I raise an eyebrow at the other in surprise, thumbing my satchel idly as I respond slowly, tasting my words, āA sign?āĀ
He looks back at me with an amused raise in his lips, and only then do my thoughts suddenly jog and dig into the scene I find myself in. The herbs, the curious, colorful attire, the cardsā¦ cards unlike any playing cards Iāve ever seen. āOh.ā I murmur, flickering my gaze back to his bemused expression, āAre you one of those fortune tellers? Do they let you do that so young?ā
The boy smiles and chuckles, placing the tablecloth in his satchel before he splays out the cards in his palm before him, I can see him counting them with his thumb as he answers, āI suppose some would call me that. Though I donāt think thereās an age limit on reading cardsā¦ā Content with the amount of cards he has, he returns them into a pile and slides them into a hidden pocket in his apparel before his hand sweeps before me and gentle takes up mine, before I can react he brings it to his lips and kisses my knuckles with a gentlemanly bow, I can feel his lips move on my skin when he speaks in a playful hum, āBut you may call me Asra.āĀ
I swallow thick on a sudden knot of roots in my throat, I smile shyly and chuckle as he releases my hand and straightens back upright. Nervously I laugh a little, simply out of nerves because no one has done that to me before. ā... Right. Okay, uhā¦ Asra.āĀ
Thereās a beat of silence as Asra the fortune teller regards me with what I think to be an expectant look, after a beatās pause he tilts his head to the side with a raise in an eyebrow, āAnd you are?āĀ
āOh!ā I blink and laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of my neck as I feel the heat return to my cheeks, āRight. Names. Introductionsā¦ Er- Iām Jamie.āĀ
āJamie.ā Asra echoes, nodding in response as he seems to savor the vowels on his tongue before he gives me a soft smile, āItās a pleasure to meet you.āĀ
I start slightly when someone jostles the stall, apparently on accident as they were attempting to get by a group of people wagging their jaws. When I look back at Asra I see his gaze is flickering across my features with a pensive expression Iām not quite sure what to do with as he moves like water around me towards the hole in his stall where the latch once was. āHave you ever been to the bakery down the block?ā He asks suddenly, pausing in the entrance and looking back at me over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I shake my head, prompting the fortune teller to smile with genuine amusement as he holds out a hand towards me, an open invitation.Ā
I hesitate, looking at him then at his hand for a long pause. Of course strangers are never to be trusted, but he is rather visually unassuming in terms of combat skill so I have faith that I can handle myself if this one were to try anything. I have been able to protect myself plenty of times in the past. But paranoia aside, I canāt lie, I am a little intrigued by theirā¦ disposition. I do find myself wanting to get to know them better, and this aura of theirsā¦ I simply must know more. And I hadnāt exactly had other plans for the eveningā¦Ā
