[Original: Drabble] "Smoke and Warlocks" [High Warlock of Pennsylvania, G]
Title: Smoke and Warlocks
Author: Ami Ven
Prompt: writerverse phase 24, challenge 13 (randomly generated characters)
Word Count: 355
Rating: G
Original: High Warlock of Pennsylvania
Summary: “Are you still sure you want to be the one to go in?”
Smoke and Warlocks
“Are you still sure you want to be the one to go in? You really don’t look so good.”
Orson frowned and turned to look at his niece. “What? No, I’m going.”
“Because I can totally go if you want me to,” said Tiffany.
“No,” he repeated. “Just because our current situation is making me… uncomfortable doesn’t mean I’m going to let a little girl be braver than I am.”
She snorted. “Uncle Orson, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“I know that,” he said, smiling. “But I am the High Warlock of Pennsylvania, I have a certain reputation to uphold. And I’m really wishing I’d paid more attention to your mom.”
“Yeah,” Tiffany agreed, softly.
Her mother, Anna, had been the High Witch of Pennsylvania - the most powerful magic-user in the state, tasked with the safekeeping of all magical beings who lived there. Most of the time, that meant meetings and advice. Sometimes, it was putting up wards and taking down curses. And sometimes, it meant clearing out old or abandoned buildings suspected of holding dangerous objects. Anna had been a fantastic High Witch. She was fair but personable, able to settle disagreements with both parties feeling that they’d had their side justly heard.
Since her death, Orson had been trying - and mostly failing - to fill her shoes, both as the new High Warlock and as parent to his now-orphaned niece.
“So,” he said, with forced levity, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, “It’s going to be me going in. Yep. Me.”
Tiffany smiled. “You can do it, Uncle Orson. Just concentrate on the sleeping spell.”
“Right,” said Orson, rolling his shoulders.
“Maybe…” Tiffany began, and he looked up, sharply.
“What?”
“I watched this thing once. Beekeepers use smoke to make the bees sleepy, then they go in and mess with them. Maybe if I try a smoke spell…”
“Yes!” her uncle said. “You’re the best, Tiff. Ready?”
She raised her wand. “Ready!”
Orson took a deep breath, resettled his grip on his own wand, “Now,” and charged into the old barn, ready to relocate a pesky nest of semi-magical wasps.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow
Author: Ami Ven
Prompt: writerverse phase 24, challenge 13 (randomly generated characters)
Word Count: 355
Rating: G
Original: High Warlock of Pennsylvania
Summary: “Are you still sure you want to be the one to go in?”
Smoke and Warlocks
“Are you still sure you want to be the one to go in? You really don’t look so good.”
Orson frowned and turned to look at his niece. “What? No, I’m going.”
“Because I can totally go if you want me to,” said Tiffany.
“No,” he repeated. “Just because our current situation is making me… uncomfortable doesn’t mean I’m going to let a little girl be braver than I am.”
She snorted. “Uncle Orson, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“I know that,” he said, smiling. “But I am the High Warlock of Pennsylvania, I have a certain reputation to uphold. And I’m really wishing I’d paid more attention to your mom.”
“Yeah,” Tiffany agreed, softly.
Her mother, Anna, had been the High Witch of Pennsylvania - the most powerful magic-user in the state, tasked with the safekeeping of all magical beings who lived there. Most of the time, that meant meetings and advice. Sometimes, it was putting up wards and taking down curses. And sometimes, it meant clearing out old or abandoned buildings suspected of holding dangerous objects. Anna had been a fantastic High Witch. She was fair but personable, able to settle disagreements with both parties feeling that they’d had their side justly heard.
Since her death, Orson had been trying - and mostly failing - to fill her shoes, both as the new High Warlock and as parent to his now-orphaned niece.
“So,” he said, with forced levity, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, “It’s going to be me going in. Yep. Me.”
Tiffany smiled. “You can do it, Uncle Orson. Just concentrate on the sleeping spell.”
“Right,” said Orson, rolling his shoulders.
“Maybe…” Tiffany began, and he looked up, sharply.
“What?”
“I watched this thing once. Beekeepers use smoke to make the bees sleepy, then they go in and mess with them. Maybe if I try a smoke spell…”
“Yes!” her uncle said. “You’re the best, Tiff. Ready?”
She raised her wand. “Ready!”
Orson took a deep breath, resettled his grip on his own wand, “Now,” and charged into the old barn, ready to relocate a pesky nest of semi-magical wasps.
THE END
Current Mood:
mellow