hmmm

[maderr]

Let's see what comes. I feel like writing something that is not on my to do list.



Roswick had seen much in thirty two years. More than anyone might suppose, but life as a rejected Swordwick meant one led a life which was seldom boring.

But in all his years, he had never quite seen anything like the wick standing before him now. Rather, the wick sprawled before him, completely oblivious to everything, half-buried in books and covered in something which seemed to be made of every color in existence.

Then the colors moved and Roswick realized suddenly the colors were all one thing--and that thing was a dragon. But...what in the world kind of dragon came that small, and in so many colors? Perhaps it was some joke. But then it shifted again, and blinked swirling eyes at him. It was a dragon...so the man really was a wick....and Prince Hollowick had warned him Master Tokiwick was eccentric, but that was hardly a suitable enough word for the sight before him. Roswick could not even think of anything to say. He could only stand and gawk like a school boy at his first royal ball.

Master Tokiwick seemed comprised entirely of limbs, and those limbs little more than sticks covered in pale skin--at least to judge by what was visible beneath plain black tunic and leggings, a rumpled undershirt of what must have been whtie at some point. Long--long--dark hair was pulled into a messy, half-assed braid, and if he was not mistaken it looked as though feathers and other such things were caught in it, and how in the world did one manage that...? There was a pencil tucked over one ear, smudges of ink--black, blue, red, green--all over cheeks and hands and arms where the sleeves of the unfortunate shirt were rolled up. A battered pair of boots had been thrown aside beneath the massive oak table. The table itself seemed to groan in agony from the weight of the books and parchment upon it. Master Tokiwick had drawn his feet up and slung his legs over one arm of his oversized chair, leaning against the other arm.

And all around him twined that strange littel dragon. Normal dragon familiars were often the size of a good piece of furniture, and some had been known to match the size of a proper chamber...but this draogn was small, and slender. It resembled nothing so much as an overgrown snake with scales made of flashy bits of glass.

"Tell him to come back," Tokiwick muttered suddenly, making Roswick jump.

The dragon made a weird series of clicking noises, and sinuously shifted to blink his swirling eyes at Roswick. At Roswick's side, his black wolf familiar growled low in confusion and curiosity.

Before he could figure out what to say or do, Tokiwick looked up in annoyance--and Roswick wondered if he would ever be able to speak, or if the oddities of Tokiwick would keep rendering him speechless. With all the strange things to have met his gaze since arrival---more books than even the royal library contained, the man, the dragon, the sheer remoteness of his home, the size of his home and the mess of it....he had not expected the ordinary brown of Tokiwick's eyes. Yet, for all their ordinariness, they struck Roswick as anything but ordinary. Yet he could not say what about them struck him...only that they did, indeed, strike him. Hard.

"Can I help you?" Tokiwick asked. "I assume you did not just let yourself inside my house for no reason."

"Uh--Prince Hollowick advised I simply come inside, and not attempt to knock..." Honestly, he normally had no trouble speaking. Why was every word hard to recall when Tokiwick watched him?

But the sharp look to those eyes suddenly eased, something warm and bright sparking in them, and Roswick felt a sudden irritation for which he could find no cause. "Holly sent you?" Tokiwick asked. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I-uh--" Roswick scowled at himself. "I thought I was saying so, Master Tokiwick."

Tokiwick suddenly closed his book and stood up, seemingly oblivious to the dragon which simply moved and shifted to readjust the way it wrapped and twined around Tokiwick. "Oh, please. Everyone calls me Toki. I have not been called Master Toki since the Scholars told me to get my ass out." He absently put his book down amongst the mess on the table, and suddenly frowned. "Now where...Harlequin, where--ah, yes, thank you." Thrusting a hand into a pile of parchment, quills, ink, and other writing bits, Tokiwick came out with what Roswick realized were spectacles. Dainty little silver-rimmed spectacles which Tokiwick set on his nose with the ease of lifetime use. The eyes, suddenly faintly owlish in nature, blinked at him.

Then Tokiwick's cheeks flushed the faintest pink. He coughed, then looked back up. "You're a swordwick." He smiled. "I see Holly must have friends with swords now, that is splendid." He frowned, and cocked his head to one side. "So why is he sending you to call upon me?"

Roswick sketched a belated bow, grateful for the brief reprieve from those simple-but-not eyes. "Uh, yes. My name is Roswick, I am Captain of the Swordwicks. His Highness sent me to invite you to the castle on the matter of a strange book of magic."

Tokiwick's eyes flared again, this time for a moment almost looking gold. "A book of magic? What do you mean?"

"The language is not one we know, Master Tokiwick," Roswick replied, "but it bears unmistakable marks of magic. His Highness said you would be the best chance at solving the riddle of it. He sent me to ask if you might come?"

"Of course I'll come," Tokiwick replied. "Let us go."

Roswick frowned. "Uh...do you not need to pack, Master Tokiwick?"

"Call me Toki," Tokiwick replied. "Harle...yes...no...oh, fine, if you insist." He heaved a sigh, and gave Roswick an absent nod. "I suppose we must pack, then, though I do not see...yes, all right Harle." He smiled vaguely in Roswick's direction, then moved through the mess of books and other miscellany on the floor with the ease of someone long used to living amidst chaos, vanishing through a door at the far end of the room.

How does anyone live like this? Roswick asked silently.

I would imagine he does very little living replied Waltz, sitting back on his haunches, tongue lolling briefly. Very little living at all. He does have a dragon, though, so there must be some life to him.

"Oddest dragon I ever saw," Roswick muttered. "It looked more like a toy."

Now, now, swordwick Waltz replied, growling low at him in gentle reprimand and faint amusement. Only a few months ago, we were sneered at for being swordwick.

That's not what I meant. I just meant he is not what I expected at all of a man so highly educated and who apparently can speak and read more languages than are apparently used anymore. I was expecting...

Waltz lolled his head back and around, and then shifted to nip playfully at Roswick's thigh. You were expecting someone as orderly and neat and precise as you, beloved. He is quite the precise opposite. Also pretty, behind the mess?

"Oh, shut up," Roswick replied, but reached out to pet Waltz's thick, soft fur. Always so surprising, even after so many years, how soft the fur was when his wolf was otherwise so rough looking. "He's simply odd, is all. Someone so highly regarded should not be so....scattered."

Nipping him again, Waltz then rubbed his head against Roswick's thigh. Let us wait and see, beloved, let us wait and see.

Roswick nodded. "It hardly matters anyway, I suppose. After we escort him to the castle, our part is done."

Waltz said nothing, merely rubbed against him again briefly, as they waited for the odd wick to return.