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In the dark of night, two hooded figures gathered together before a fire which burned a perfect azure flame, and their eyes met through the incredible, supernatural heat which had been their rally point.
They were dressed in the simplest of robes which also reflected an uncommon sense of elegance for their realm and time, though it would be clear to any observer, of which there none per almost excessively redundant arrangement, that fashion was not a topic of concern at this gathering. For two men such as these, whose faces might be recognized by the wrong people, such worldly concerns might be said to be beneath them, for, after all, they did deal with a great multitude of worlds.
Beyond their basic description and nondescript sage-worthy clothing, the only betraying sign of their allegiance with the emblem of a compass pointing in many directions that was stitched on the peak of their hoods. At every step, their behavior was designed to keep it that way, and this time, the Traveler’s Council succeeded.
It was, the more senior of the two thought to himself, somewhat ironic for those born with the at least initially uncontrollable ability to transfer between dimensions. He didn’t know if they were extremely good or extremely lucky, but if the signs were true, and they always were, luck would now be needed.
“It’s confirmed, then, brother? He said with a false hope that maybe they could all just go home now, where ever (and whenever) that home might be. That would be nice. Travelers never ran out of places to catch up on R&R, as the sage thought of that most interesting term had had recently picked up on a sudden sojourn.
The other sage nodded gravely at his lifelong friend, who like him had been summoned because they were one of the select few to have been to the plane that was to be involved in the impending, most unfortunate events. “I am afraid so. He is finally of age, and his first sojourn is just a matter of time. Most likely, he won’t even realize what happened, but the signs all say that he will be coming here.”
That was unfortunate for the subject in question, the senior monk thought, for in addition to locating and training Travelers as they arose throughout the various nodes of the Ethereal Plane, The Council also had the responsibility of putting rogue and uncontrollable Travelers down. And given the subject’s point of origin in a high-technology realm where magic, as this world of Aethera understood it, was all but nonsexist, his adjustment would be tough. Failure was not an option; the balance had to be preserved.
“Let us ask fate for the safety of our new brother, and for his success.” Yes, that was important, the senior monk thought to himself. For if the boy did not succeed, if he did not adjust, he would be a danger, and he would taste the monks’ steel and learn, too late to do any good, that The Council’s will was absolute and absolutely enforceable when it came to their own kind, and that mercy was not an affordable commodity. The monk sat before the fire, crossing his legs and closing his eyes, doing as he had spoken, hoping this time fate would listen to him.
“Internet was down, so I thought I’d come outside today…” The bearded barista, whose name Marcus unfortunately never bothered to learn, chuckled as he read the t-shirt before passing Marcus his usual cinnamon spiced mocha. “Funny stuff, man…”
Marcus shrugged with typical awkwardness. “Umm, yeah, I suppose so.” He put the $5 payment down on the coffee bar, grabbed the drink, cursing silently as a small amount spilled onto the aforementioned shirt, and turned to sit down. He loved this place. Take Five Coffee and Bar was a fairly ordinary coffee joint, but it was a standalone, not a fucking chain, owned by the nicest lady who hired only the nicest and most focused coffee baristas, who also made some delicious baked goods and for those nights when Marcus needed to calm down versus get up, a pretty good selection of hard alcohol. He came here at least three times a week, the expense be damned, and silently thought about the day ahead, savoring another period of summer worthlessness that lie in his future. Then he sipped the mocha.
He blinked as something immediately did not seem right. A tingling sensation washed down his throat, and soon it spread to every bone in his slender body. He blinked, trying to purge the sensation with a moment of shuddering concentration as he had found sometimes worked, but the feeling, which had bothered him from time to time, was too strong. It wouldn’t go away. Then, the mocha spilled over as Marcus looked over and, seated in the other side of the booth, was a naked… woman. A pretty well-endowed woman at that, and at first he closed his eyes with embarrassment, before feeling a soft hand on his chin. It was then that he noticed that the woman, being, whatever, was seemingly unnoticed by everyone around him, and that her form was glowing blue and partially transparent.
“Who… are you?” Marcus mouthed, unable to get the words completely out.
“Hehe! Silly, I am fate! Or, I suppose, part of it.” She spoke with what would be a perfect smile, though as with the rest of her, her teeth had an almost ethereal quality to them that was hard to describe. It was still incredibly beautiful. “You may call me Beginning. Or Ginny for short, if you’re feeling silly and lazy. Kinda like I am. Hey, want a kiss?”
Marcus looked all around him, still stunned by how he seemed the only person aware of the girl’s presence, and, deciding that he was definitely hallucinating, that the barista, who had gone about his business with complete nonchalance, must have spiked his mocha with some kind of hyper LSD. Determining that if a sexy ghost girl was going to be the product of that hallucination, he might as well go along with her advance, Marcus shrugged and leaned forward, puckering up his lips like an idiot.
“You’re cute. That’ll help you where you’re going. Have fun, hehehe!” Marcus felt her lips touch him, and then everything went black.
They were dressed in the simplest of robes which also reflected an uncommon sense of elegance for their realm and time, though it would be clear to any observer, of which there none per almost excessively redundant arrangement, that fashion was not a topic of concern at this gathering. For two men such as these, whose faces might be recognized by the wrong people, such worldly concerns might be said to be beneath them, for, after all, they did deal with a great multitude of worlds.
Beyond their basic description and nondescript sage-worthy clothing, the only betraying sign of their allegiance with the emblem of a compass pointing in many directions that was stitched on the peak of their hoods. At every step, their behavior was designed to keep it that way, and this time, the Traveler’s Council succeeded.
It was, the more senior of the two thought to himself, somewhat ironic for those born with the at least initially uncontrollable ability to transfer between dimensions. He didn’t know if they were extremely good or extremely lucky, but if the signs were true, and they always were, luck would now be needed.
“It’s confirmed, then, brother? He said with a false hope that maybe they could all just go home now, where ever (and whenever) that home might be. That would be nice. Travelers never ran out of places to catch up on R&R, as the sage thought of that most interesting term had had recently picked up on a sudden sojourn.
The other sage nodded gravely at his lifelong friend, who like him had been summoned because they were one of the select few to have been to the plane that was to be involved in the impending, most unfortunate events. “I am afraid so. He is finally of age, and his first sojourn is just a matter of time. Most likely, he won’t even realize what happened, but the signs all say that he will be coming here.”
That was unfortunate for the subject in question, the senior monk thought, for in addition to locating and training Travelers as they arose throughout the various nodes of the Ethereal Plane, The Council also had the responsibility of putting rogue and uncontrollable Travelers down. And given the subject’s point of origin in a high-technology realm where magic, as this world of Aethera understood it, was all but nonsexist, his adjustment would be tough. Failure was not an option; the balance had to be preserved.
“Let us ask fate for the safety of our new brother, and for his success.” Yes, that was important, the senior monk thought to himself. For if the boy did not succeed, if he did not adjust, he would be a danger, and he would taste the monks’ steel and learn, too late to do any good, that The Council’s will was absolute and absolutely enforceable when it came to their own kind, and that mercy was not an affordable commodity. The monk sat before the fire, crossing his legs and closing his eyes, doing as he had spoken, hoping this time fate would listen to him.
“Internet was down, so I thought I’d come outside today…” The bearded barista, whose name Marcus unfortunately never bothered to learn, chuckled as he read the t-shirt before passing Marcus his usual cinnamon spiced mocha. “Funny stuff, man…”
Marcus shrugged with typical awkwardness. “Umm, yeah, I suppose so.” He put the $5 payment down on the coffee bar, grabbed the drink, cursing silently as a small amount spilled onto the aforementioned shirt, and turned to sit down. He loved this place. Take Five Coffee and Bar was a fairly ordinary coffee joint, but it was a standalone, not a fucking chain, owned by the nicest lady who hired only the nicest and most focused coffee baristas, who also made some delicious baked goods and for those nights when Marcus needed to calm down versus get up, a pretty good selection of hard alcohol. He came here at least three times a week, the expense be damned, and silently thought about the day ahead, savoring another period of summer worthlessness that lie in his future. Then he sipped the mocha.
He blinked as something immediately did not seem right. A tingling sensation washed down his throat, and soon it spread to every bone in his slender body. He blinked, trying to purge the sensation with a moment of shuddering concentration as he had found sometimes worked, but the feeling, which had bothered him from time to time, was too strong. It wouldn’t go away. Then, the mocha spilled over as Marcus looked over and, seated in the other side of the booth, was a naked… woman. A pretty well-endowed woman at that, and at first he closed his eyes with embarrassment, before feeling a soft hand on his chin. It was then that he noticed that the woman, being, whatever, was seemingly unnoticed by everyone around him, and that her form was glowing blue and partially transparent.
“Who… are you?” Marcus mouthed, unable to get the words completely out.
“Hehe! Silly, I am fate! Or, I suppose, part of it.” She spoke with what would be a perfect smile, though as with the rest of her, her teeth had an almost ethereal quality to them that was hard to describe. It was still incredibly beautiful. “You may call me Beginning. Or Ginny for short, if you’re feeling silly and lazy. Kinda like I am. Hey, want a kiss?”
Marcus looked all around him, still stunned by how he seemed the only person aware of the girl’s presence, and, deciding that he was definitely hallucinating, that the barista, who had gone about his business with complete nonchalance, must have spiked his mocha with some kind of hyper LSD. Determining that if a sexy ghost girl was going to be the product of that hallucination, he might as well go along with her advance, Marcus shrugged and leaned forward, puckering up his lips like an idiot.
“You’re cute. That’ll help you where you’re going. Have fun, hehehe!” Marcus felt her lips touch him, and then everything went black.