Gnawing debt.
"Agratia-che, can you tell me what's wrong with this?" Sybil's shrill cry has been feeding her rage since Debron breached the sky. It is the middle of the dry season and a particularly nasty problem that is causing Agratia to sweat and for Sybil's festival winning flowers to wilt.
She looks up through sparse tree cover, the enormous tree Gracetown is housed in with impressive swathes of bare branches where the thick leaves should be, providing shadow to the wilting flowers of Grandmother Sybil. So of course this isn't a problem for Agratia to solve, instead it is Agratia's problem.
"They are getting too much sun Grandmother." she says through faux septum-laden teeth.
"And why are they getting too much sun? My tutor-son told me this was the best place in town for my flowers and Skip is never wrong." Skip Thunderblossom is never around when hard work needs to be done, but always has advice for everyone in town - but especially Sybil. This annoys, it vexes, it rankles Agratia as Skip is the other Secondus level gardener in Gracetown.
"I don't know grandmother, have you asked Skip?" Her voice drips sarcasm like venom, even as her elbow stump aches in memory of how she lost it. She pops the prosthesis off the stump and massages the end with a soil stained hand. She takes a deep breath and tries to calm her anger. "Sorry Grandmother."
Sybil pats her shoulder gently, smiling pleased. "You are trying. You'll get better at this anger thing, che." Agratia sometimes thinks Sybil doesn’t realise that she is the cause of some of Agratia's anger. Not about Skip though.
The women return to looking at the problem, Agratia popping her functional magic prosthesis back into place. Sybil taps her cane on the plant platform huffing at the continual problem.
She is just about to suggest one of the primus go up and report back when the problem falls from the sky, grey and yellow and with big mandables. She reaches up to catch the insect, holding it firm as she notes that it is about the size of a salit, but probably not alone given the canopy damage.
"Well this is going to be a problem." Agratia says to Sybil, even as the insect tries to wiggle close enough to nibble plant prosthesis. She curses and angrily boops the snoot. "I will need to check the archive to know if we have seen this before, or if we need to do a series of extensive testing to get this done." She looks pointedly at Sybil as the Grandmother effortlessly clubs the insect with enough force to splatter its brains all over Agratia. "I will have to collect another sample, to check the archives to know if I need to do extensive testing."
"Breathe dear, your arm is expensive and I'm sure with your lifestyle that you are unlikely to be able to trade for something like that without serious owings. And you already have so much to work through without the distraction. I was doing us both a favour." She starts to walk towards the chambers she keeps for official business, walking harder on her cane to give the air that regal tap at the expense of marks left behind on the living ground.
Agratia sees Skip's workings in the workings of Sybil's chambers, twisting braids being the sign of his mark, guiding architects and working the art with delicate skill that leaves her envious, Agratia much more practical and brutish, and she hates herself for lacking delicacy in a world that values beauty and intellect - having neither naturally. A branch has fallen over the membrane bars way into Sybil's chambers and Agratia steps forwards, lifting with her fake arm what would take two people to lift, moving it aside. She will tell some of the primus about the branch later, get them to take it to the mulch pile and shred it for decomposition. Hefting it off the edge of the tree would do more damage than it could give back to the outside world.
She moves to Grandmother's personal archive, searching it first while cradling the body of the insect like a child, resting the spine of bindings on its carapace as she moves bindings and ideas, starting with general insects, then with threats to the tree, before settling on adventures of Gracetown and the surrounds. Agratia finally finds it in the history of a traveller, a bard who had come through hundreds of years before and recounted everything she had seen.
"Amheriste paste mixed with citrus mixed into a paste and painted on the nobules of branches we wish to save. Then a growth spell once the insects are moved on to repair the canopy itself." She brings the news to Sybil who has begun to return to her own work rather than second guess Agratia for once.
"Well, get it done. My flowers won't wilt forever and I have trust in your intelligence and vigor." Agratia goes to complain before realising the compliment, biting her lip to stop her own emotions as she goes to round up the Primus gardeners to begin the work - and to remove that tree branch.
It is hard work, and almost seems done when they discover a problem that the journal did not have - mid dry season rains. The rain makes everything slippery in that way the rain of several days does not have, dust and muck clinging and yet sliding down branches and making application dangerous. Furthermore the rains dilute the paste, making it part of the muck being washed from the branches and letting the huddling insects stay in the peace of the tree. Agratia had screamed and cursed alone in her own residence loud enough that Sybil had sent a runner that simply had conveyed "Disappointing."
Skip had designed another lovely residence that evening, and by morning a new guest to the city from Natare had an ornate mage's tower spiralling up close to the centre root mass, laden with glowing vines and with a delicate and subtle circuit sign glowing blue to show the mage's power. But when asked about assistance, all Skip had indicated was that Agratia had this, was competent, could do this alone. Could shoulder the blame alone too.
So she had gathered the Primus and they had spent the night on this, Agratia warning them all that she may get heated, may have to step out and swear but that nothing they were doing was wrong no matter what she might imply when things get tense. It was one of the younger ones who came up with the idea to trade for the little lanterns with the solid rooves, letting them float from lower braches up towards where the insects would huddle and let the vapour of the paste waft and send off the nibbling insects. Sybil had been glad to use the coffers of the town, trading assistance from the tailor Mr Kaito and his floating lanterns, and in exchange he was given Agratia's time to tend to his little and precise little potted tree.
"You will always do good work, Master Gardener." The wise tailor had said, even as he left Forest Gift by her wrist as she worked, the older man working away on a delicate necklace to go with the midnight-pink dress draped across the clothes hoist. The odd way the dress was hanging while pinned was annoying Agratia the more she worked on the delicate bush before her and she has to stop, tracing a growth circuit on the ground of Kaito's setup, before pushing her energy into the magic, stronger now that her arm was magic itself, growing a whole fascimille of a person into the gap beneath the dress and carefully pushing up, watching Kaito run around, unpinning and unfulring as plant-flesh replaces gravity and the dress is given true form. While the magic had grown faster than she had before her accident, she had control, just not the delicacy of her peers.
The dress looked better that way, and Kaito had his tree tended to and grown that half inch on the left side like he needed to keep it precisely balanced, but that was all work and Agratia was more focussed on the awards ceremony some of the Primuses would be getting awards for. She'd been asked by Sybil as part of her debt to give a couple out - her choice in recognition for the acts they had done in the year. She tried not to play favourites, but the younger one who had come up with the lantern idea, and another who had worked tirelessly on a safer hanging harness idea were her choices, even though she knew Skip and Sybil would see right to the core of her choices.
Their judgement made her angry, barely hiding her defiant rage as she awards the pair her choices, making sure each knows how deathly proud of them she is and how she will always have their back. "You always do good work, my apprentice." She tells each, waiting for the day each becomes Secondus in their own right, though hoping she reaches Tertius before then.
So it naturally comes with a start when Sybil pulls her aside after the ceremony. "I won't apologise for my choices, they deserve this and I would pick them a hundred times over."
"You don't have to." Sybil is leaning heavily on her cane, assessing Agratia. She can feel her anger rising, but she refuses to let Sybil get a rise from her.
"What is it then? How have I failed now?"
"I think you miss our dynamic in a way that confuses me as I get older. I do not hate you, nor do you recieve my scorn. I am disappointed by your anger and I know you can do better. At everything." The grandmother keeps watching Agratia with something too close to pity.
"If I'm such a failure, why save me?" She's practically snarling now, hating how this woman makes her feel so weak, so incompetent.
"Because, if you would listen, I am content with what you are now. Hence why I have called the assessment board from the big city. So you can get the Tertius you deserve. You do things my Skip never could, but you can do better - especially that anger. I'm not going to plant my time and energy into soil so full of rage - as I keep telling you." Her cane raps Agratia across the knees, whacking her out of her own emotions and forcing her to listen. "I might be an annoying old bean to you, but you are Moss Clutch and you keep acting like I'm a Dudich. You need to stop that if you are to grow. Now, tomorrow we return to my flowers, and you will learn, che."
She looks up through sparse tree cover, the enormous tree Gracetown is housed in with impressive swathes of bare branches where the thick leaves should be, providing shadow to the wilting flowers of Grandmother Sybil. So of course this isn't a problem for Agratia to solve, instead it is Agratia's problem.
"They are getting too much sun Grandmother." she says through faux septum-laden teeth.
"And why are they getting too much sun? My tutor-son told me this was the best place in town for my flowers and Skip is never wrong." Skip Thunderblossom is never around when hard work needs to be done, but always has advice for everyone in town - but especially Sybil. This annoys, it vexes, it rankles Agratia as Skip is the other Secondus level gardener in Gracetown.
"I don't know grandmother, have you asked Skip?" Her voice drips sarcasm like venom, even as her elbow stump aches in memory of how she lost it. She pops the prosthesis off the stump and massages the end with a soil stained hand. She takes a deep breath and tries to calm her anger. "Sorry Grandmother."
Sybil pats her shoulder gently, smiling pleased. "You are trying. You'll get better at this anger thing, che." Agratia sometimes thinks Sybil doesn’t realise that she is the cause of some of Agratia's anger. Not about Skip though.
The women return to looking at the problem, Agratia popping her functional magic prosthesis back into place. Sybil taps her cane on the plant platform huffing at the continual problem.
She is just about to suggest one of the primus go up and report back when the problem falls from the sky, grey and yellow and with big mandables. She reaches up to catch the insect, holding it firm as she notes that it is about the size of a salit, but probably not alone given the canopy damage.
"Well this is going to be a problem." Agratia says to Sybil, even as the insect tries to wiggle close enough to nibble plant prosthesis. She curses and angrily boops the snoot. "I will need to check the archive to know if we have seen this before, or if we need to do a series of extensive testing to get this done." She looks pointedly at Sybil as the Grandmother effortlessly clubs the insect with enough force to splatter its brains all over Agratia. "I will have to collect another sample, to check the archives to know if I need to do extensive testing."
"Breathe dear, your arm is expensive and I'm sure with your lifestyle that you are unlikely to be able to trade for something like that without serious owings. And you already have so much to work through without the distraction. I was doing us both a favour." She starts to walk towards the chambers she keeps for official business, walking harder on her cane to give the air that regal tap at the expense of marks left behind on the living ground.
Agratia sees Skip's workings in the workings of Sybil's chambers, twisting braids being the sign of his mark, guiding architects and working the art with delicate skill that leaves her envious, Agratia much more practical and brutish, and she hates herself for lacking delicacy in a world that values beauty and intellect - having neither naturally. A branch has fallen over the membrane bars way into Sybil's chambers and Agratia steps forwards, lifting with her fake arm what would take two people to lift, moving it aside. She will tell some of the primus about the branch later, get them to take it to the mulch pile and shred it for decomposition. Hefting it off the edge of the tree would do more damage than it could give back to the outside world.
She moves to Grandmother's personal archive, searching it first while cradling the body of the insect like a child, resting the spine of bindings on its carapace as she moves bindings and ideas, starting with general insects, then with threats to the tree, before settling on adventures of Gracetown and the surrounds. Agratia finally finds it in the history of a traveller, a bard who had come through hundreds of years before and recounted everything she had seen.
"Amheriste paste mixed with citrus mixed into a paste and painted on the nobules of branches we wish to save. Then a growth spell once the insects are moved on to repair the canopy itself." She brings the news to Sybil who has begun to return to her own work rather than second guess Agratia for once.
"Well, get it done. My flowers won't wilt forever and I have trust in your intelligence and vigor." Agratia goes to complain before realising the compliment, biting her lip to stop her own emotions as she goes to round up the Primus gardeners to begin the work - and to remove that tree branch.
It is hard work, and almost seems done when they discover a problem that the journal did not have - mid dry season rains. The rain makes everything slippery in that way the rain of several days does not have, dust and muck clinging and yet sliding down branches and making application dangerous. Furthermore the rains dilute the paste, making it part of the muck being washed from the branches and letting the huddling insects stay in the peace of the tree. Agratia had screamed and cursed alone in her own residence loud enough that Sybil had sent a runner that simply had conveyed "Disappointing."
Skip had designed another lovely residence that evening, and by morning a new guest to the city from Natare had an ornate mage's tower spiralling up close to the centre root mass, laden with glowing vines and with a delicate and subtle circuit sign glowing blue to show the mage's power. But when asked about assistance, all Skip had indicated was that Agratia had this, was competent, could do this alone. Could shoulder the blame alone too.
So she had gathered the Primus and they had spent the night on this, Agratia warning them all that she may get heated, may have to step out and swear but that nothing they were doing was wrong no matter what she might imply when things get tense. It was one of the younger ones who came up with the idea to trade for the little lanterns with the solid rooves, letting them float from lower braches up towards where the insects would huddle and let the vapour of the paste waft and send off the nibbling insects. Sybil had been glad to use the coffers of the town, trading assistance from the tailor Mr Kaito and his floating lanterns, and in exchange he was given Agratia's time to tend to his little and precise little potted tree.
"You will always do good work, Master Gardener." The wise tailor had said, even as he left Forest Gift by her wrist as she worked, the older man working away on a delicate necklace to go with the midnight-pink dress draped across the clothes hoist. The odd way the dress was hanging while pinned was annoying Agratia the more she worked on the delicate bush before her and she has to stop, tracing a growth circuit on the ground of Kaito's setup, before pushing her energy into the magic, stronger now that her arm was magic itself, growing a whole fascimille of a person into the gap beneath the dress and carefully pushing up, watching Kaito run around, unpinning and unfulring as plant-flesh replaces gravity and the dress is given true form. While the magic had grown faster than she had before her accident, she had control, just not the delicacy of her peers.
The dress looked better that way, and Kaito had his tree tended to and grown that half inch on the left side like he needed to keep it precisely balanced, but that was all work and Agratia was more focussed on the awards ceremony some of the Primuses would be getting awards for. She'd been asked by Sybil as part of her debt to give a couple out - her choice in recognition for the acts they had done in the year. She tried not to play favourites, but the younger one who had come up with the lantern idea, and another who had worked tirelessly on a safer hanging harness idea were her choices, even though she knew Skip and Sybil would see right to the core of her choices.
Their judgement made her angry, barely hiding her defiant rage as she awards the pair her choices, making sure each knows how deathly proud of them she is and how she will always have their back. "You always do good work, my apprentice." She tells each, waiting for the day each becomes Secondus in their own right, though hoping she reaches Tertius before then.
So it naturally comes with a start when Sybil pulls her aside after the ceremony. "I won't apologise for my choices, they deserve this and I would pick them a hundred times over."
"You don't have to." Sybil is leaning heavily on her cane, assessing Agratia. She can feel her anger rising, but she refuses to let Sybil get a rise from her.
"What is it then? How have I failed now?"
"I think you miss our dynamic in a way that confuses me as I get older. I do not hate you, nor do you recieve my scorn. I am disappointed by your anger and I know you can do better. At everything." The grandmother keeps watching Agratia with something too close to pity.
"If I'm such a failure, why save me?" She's practically snarling now, hating how this woman makes her feel so weak, so incompetent.
"Because, if you would listen, I am content with what you are now. Hence why I have called the assessment board from the big city. So you can get the Tertius you deserve. You do things my Skip never could, but you can do better - especially that anger. I'm not going to plant my time and energy into soil so full of rage - as I keep telling you." Her cane raps Agratia across the knees, whacking her out of her own emotions and forcing her to listen. "I might be an annoying old bean to you, but you are Moss Clutch and you keep acting like I'm a Dudich. You need to stop that if you are to grow. Now, tomorrow we return to my flowers, and you will learn, che."
Thank you for reading, feel free to give feedback.
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