Tristan thought for a minute. Profiles couldn't replace understanding, it was true, but they gave enough information that he could guess a few things. Kyle Bolton wanted...sympathy. Sympathy and the knowledge that someone believed him.
Tristan looked at his fellow eleventh grader. "You're not the delinquent everyone thinks you are."
Kyle frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You get detention and lectures every day for the simple reason that you have a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's happened so often, you've given up on telling people your side of the story, and just accept whatever punishment they deem appropriate." The profile said that Kyle felt misunderstood and rejected, and considering his ability, no wonder.
Kyle's frown deepened. "What're you talking about? I'm the school firebrand. It's my mission in life to cause as much trouble as possible."
Now that he was listening for it, Tristan could hear the faint and bitter traces of loneliness in the teen's voice. "No, it's not, and you know it. And firebrand applies more to your sister than it does to you."
Now it was Megan's turn to frown. "What?"
He looked at her, profile running through his mind. Now that he was focusing on them, the things were proving themselves to be surprisingly detailed. For best results, approach Megan with honesty and courtesy. She appreciated the implied respect, and returned it. "Do things burst into flame when you're around them?"
"No!" Tristan raised an eyebrow, and she muttered, "Well, not recently."
"Is that where my homework went?" Kyle demanded.
"I told you, that was the dog!"
The two started arguing. Jared sighed and flopped onto the sofa. Allison watched for a bit, then looked at Tristan. "So why am I here?"
Allison. He didn't even have to review the profile. Don't go directly to the point, but don't beat around the bush either. Convoluted sentences only annoyed her, and it didn't matter how easygoing she was. You make her mad, she'll make you pay. "Do you still like to garden?"
"Yeah."
"Are you good?"
She smiled. "I could make carrots grow on trees if they'd taste right. But what does that have to do with Megan being an involuntary arsonist?"
"The same thing it has to do with Kyle sensing trouble, and my seeing things." He sat down again and looked her in the eye. "We're different, and most of us know it. If a green thumb's the only expression of your ability, though, you probably don't."
She shrugged, accepting it despite the implausibility. She knew Tristan wasn't the kind of person who made up or even believed stories. He needed facts and physical proof before accepting such tales, and always had. Allison, not so much. She was more of a gut-feeling kind of girl, and her gut told her to trust her distant childhood friend. "I knew there had to be a reason my plants grow so well. But what about you, Tristan? What do you see?"
Megan and Kyle turned to him as well. He wasn't sure he was comfortable being watched like that. "Auras. Monsters." The dream of the night before flitted through his mind, some parts of it clearer and others still complete blanks. "Maybe the future, but I hope not."
"Why not?" Megan asked, flopping onto a chair and swinging her legs up over the arm. "Seeing the future's a lot cooler than burning things."
"Maybe, but I still hope not."
Tristan looked at his fellow eleventh grader. "You're not the delinquent everyone thinks you are."
Kyle frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You get detention and lectures every day for the simple reason that you have a talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's happened so often, you've given up on telling people your side of the story, and just accept whatever punishment they deem appropriate." The profile said that Kyle felt misunderstood and rejected, and considering his ability, no wonder.
Kyle's frown deepened. "What're you talking about? I'm the school firebrand. It's my mission in life to cause as much trouble as possible."
Now that he was listening for it, Tristan could hear the faint and bitter traces of loneliness in the teen's voice. "No, it's not, and you know it. And firebrand applies more to your sister than it does to you."
Now it was Megan's turn to frown. "What?"
He looked at her, profile running through his mind. Now that he was focusing on them, the things were proving themselves to be surprisingly detailed. For best results, approach Megan with honesty and courtesy. She appreciated the implied respect, and returned it. "Do things burst into flame when you're around them?"
"No!" Tristan raised an eyebrow, and she muttered, "Well, not recently."
"Is that where my homework went?" Kyle demanded.
"I told you, that was the dog!"
The two started arguing. Jared sighed and flopped onto the sofa. Allison watched for a bit, then looked at Tristan. "So why am I here?"
Allison. He didn't even have to review the profile. Don't go directly to the point, but don't beat around the bush either. Convoluted sentences only annoyed her, and it didn't matter how easygoing she was. You make her mad, she'll make you pay. "Do you still like to garden?"
"Yeah."
"Are you good?"
She smiled. "I could make carrots grow on trees if they'd taste right. But what does that have to do with Megan being an involuntary arsonist?"
"The same thing it has to do with Kyle sensing trouble, and my seeing things." He sat down again and looked her in the eye. "We're different, and most of us know it. If a green thumb's the only expression of your ability, though, you probably don't."
She shrugged, accepting it despite the implausibility. She knew Tristan wasn't the kind of person who made up or even believed stories. He needed facts and physical proof before accepting such tales, and always had. Allison, not so much. She was more of a gut-feeling kind of girl, and her gut told her to trust her distant childhood friend. "I knew there had to be a reason my plants grow so well. But what about you, Tristan? What do you see?"
Megan and Kyle turned to him as well. He wasn't sure he was comfortable being watched like that. "Auras. Monsters." The dream of the night before flitted through his mind, some parts of it clearer and others still complete blanks. "Maybe the future, but I hope not."
"Why not?" Megan asked, flopping onto a chair and swinging her legs up over the arm. "Seeing the future's a lot cooler than burning things."
"Maybe, but I still hope not."
__________
Crouched on the roof, Destiny smiled. As she knew he would, Young had gathered some of the candidates and while his explanation needed work, his natural calm had kept them from panicking. Thanks to him, now she also knew what he and his candidates could do, though Ferrell remained a mystery.
Her smile faded, and she shook her head in annoyance. She should have guessed Young had the Sight. It was the most plausible explanation as to how he had uncovered her deception so easily. He wasn't the seventh son of a seventh son, but he didn't need to be. The Sight struck just as randomly as any other ability, though observation suggested that the potential of being Touched was somewhat genetic. The potential wasn't always fulfilled, but it was still passed on.
Besides which, the Sight of a seventh son was active from birth: Young would have seen the creatures of the hidden world for his entire life, not after meeting Ferrell. And a seventh son's Sight wasn't as strong as Young's. A seventh son could see auras if he was strong enough, but not the abilities of those he saw, and certainly not the future.
No. Those were the abilities of a Seer.
On the porch, the female marsuin looked up and chirred at the intruder. Destiny glanced at her, unconcerned. Marsuini weren't violent creatures by nature. They didn't attack unless actually threatened, and Destiny wasn't doing anything but eavesdropping. Besides, they liked humans.
The marsuin went from the curious chirr to an agitated yip. She pulled against her leash, but to no avail. She yipped again, and Destiny decided that she'd done enough spying for the day. She slid down the other side of the house and landed lightly on her feet as Young exited the house to calm his pet. Destiny got a running start and vaulted over the back fence, already making plans within plans. She was a Huntress. Such was what she had been born for. Such was what she had been trained for.
Her smile faded, and she shook her head in annoyance. She should have guessed Young had the Sight. It was the most plausible explanation as to how he had uncovered her deception so easily. He wasn't the seventh son of a seventh son, but he didn't need to be. The Sight struck just as randomly as any other ability, though observation suggested that the potential of being Touched was somewhat genetic. The potential wasn't always fulfilled, but it was still passed on.
Besides which, the Sight of a seventh son was active from birth: Young would have seen the creatures of the hidden world for his entire life, not after meeting Ferrell. And a seventh son's Sight wasn't as strong as Young's. A seventh son could see auras if he was strong enough, but not the abilities of those he saw, and certainly not the future.
No. Those were the abilities of a Seer.
On the porch, the female marsuin looked up and chirred at the intruder. Destiny glanced at her, unconcerned. Marsuini weren't violent creatures by nature. They didn't attack unless actually threatened, and Destiny wasn't doing anything but eavesdropping. Besides, they liked humans.
The marsuin went from the curious chirr to an agitated yip. She pulled against her leash, but to no avail. She yipped again, and Destiny decided that she'd done enough spying for the day. She slid down the other side of the house and landed lightly on her feet as Young exited the house to calm his pet. Destiny got a running start and vaulted over the back fence, already making plans within plans. She was a Huntress. Such was what she had been born for. Such was what she had been trained for.
No comments:
Post a Comment