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random_ficceryTitle: Crispy Fried Bat Wings - Em and Jute
Rating: G
Word Count: 1066
Warnings: Magic, Kid-Fic
Summary: 9 year-old Emilia is teaching herself to be a witch, Jute is her familiar.
Author's Notes: I wrote a portion of this quite some time ago, then finished it to try submitting for publication. It's Halloween, I've been writing more with Em and Jute, so I thought I'd post this and then more as it comes.
Blackened leaves crunched and skittered underfoot like crispy-fried bat wings as Emilia passed out of the circle. She was careful to smudge the lines she’d made before she left. Looking upward, she watched the vaulted ceiling of nearly bare branches pass above her, enjoying the dizzy strange feeling it gave her. Eyes still on the sky, her feet found the usual trail through the woods by habit.
"You may fall down,” Jute cautioned quietly from somewhere behind her. Emilia smiled a tiny smile and spread her arms out to her sides, slowly spinning while continuing along the widening packed-dirt path.
"What good is anything if you worry about everything?” Emilia tried not to sound smug, but knew some of it leaked out.
Jute made a small huffing sound and said nothing more, but the disapproval was quite loud enough without adding any words.
Wind lifted the hem of Emilia’s black dress and the long fringes on her crocheted shawl, swirling them with extra panache as they whirled outward with her spinning. A single droplet of cold tapped her on the nose and she stopped, only wavering a little bit with mild dizziness, her green eyes narrowing as she looked intently at the gray sky overhead.
"Rain,” Jute commented.
"Of course!” Emilia smirked, utterly pleased with herself. "I knew it would work!”
"It was due to rain anyway.”
So commonsensical, so prosaic, so boring, Emilia thought, but did not say. Instead, she waited for another drop, to confirm what she already felt was certain. "But not until tomorrow,” she murmured as two more drops touched her cheek and forehead almost simultaneously.
Jute’s silence was rather loud and Emilia firmly ignored it.
Grumbling rumbles echoed from the darkening sky and Emilia clasped her hands to her chest in delight. "Oh, wonderful!”
"You are going to get wet,” Jute said, the bland words now off to the left.
"I don’t care,” Emilia said, suddenly breaking into a run, kicking and crunching and thumping along the path through the autumn-stained leaves, feeling the cold air on her cheeks and the dampening wind in her lungs. "What good is making rain if you don’t get to play in it?”
"You take much upon yourself, Em.”
Emilia stopped at a bend in the path, putting her hands on her hips under the thick shawl, glaring at Jute’s position. "Tell me that it wasn’t me, Jute. Flat out tell me that I didn’t change the balance with my spell.”
Jute’s silence stretched onward, broken by the increasing number of raindrops tapping crisply down upon dried leaves. Emilia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, searching the air for the faint wavering that was Jute’s not-quite-invisible form.
"Hm?” She pressed.
"I cannot say that you had nothing to do with the rain, Em.”
"Aha!” Emilia crowed somewhat quietly.
"But, neither can I say that you were solely responsible.”
"Jute!” Emilia stomped her foot, heavy-heeled mary-janes making an almost hollow sound on the hard-packed dirt of the path.
"I cannot lie, Em.” Jute’s slightly apologetic tone was almost enough to soothe the girl’s annoyance.
"Did I ask you to?” Emilia gave an exasperated sigh and waved her hand at the faint, drifting drizzle that was rapidly evolving into an actual light rain. "It was a good spell and I felt it go out. Now, it’s raining. I know I did it, Jute. I’m sure of it! I felt it working!”
"Emilia…” Jute seemed reluctant—more reluctant than usual—to pick a side of the fence to ‘be’ on.
"Jute…” Emilia softened her tone and intertwined her fingers before her. "Why are you being this way lately?”
"Things are changing…you are changing, Em.”
"Yes, I’m getting better at magic!” The girl replied cockily.
"Even so, you have to think about the consequences of your actions."
Emilia rolled her eyes and blew air through pouty lips. Jute remained silent, but the palpable presence at the edges of Emilia's senses felt worried and frustrated.
It wasn’t easy teaching herself to be a witch like her Gramma had been. No one believed in such things anymore, but Emilia did. She’d found Gramma’s book in the attic, had called up her own familiar… mostly.
Jute had come to her, a whisper of presence at the edge of the circle she’d made with salt, called from elsewhere by the offering of five drops of her blood at the points of the star—a pentagram, she learned later, because it had five points—and words from a language her Gramma had known and she was barely learning. Jute had promised to be her familiar in return for a body to inhabit. Eventually. It had to be just the right one, both of them had to agree, and Jute was particular.
However, that was something meant to happen later, when she was a little older and had read all of Gramma’s book. It was going to be very complicated and part of what Jute was meant to do in the meantime was help her learn without hurting herself or someone else. Jute took that task a bit too seriously for Emilia’s liking.
For now, right now, all Emilia wanted was to play in the rain she’d brought—well, the rain she’d hurried, anyhow—find some crabapples from the old grove at the center of the forest, and see if Auntie Phoebe would bake them with cinnamon and brown sugar for afters that night.
Emilia spun with her arms out as the raindrops multiplied; the tapping and rustling all around her sounded like the footsteps of a fairy army, and every drop that touched her felt like a tiny, cold kiss on her skin.
“Em,” Jute was close by, spinning with her, and there was something warmer in with the worry now. Something like pride and approval. “Let’s go over the first few chapters in your grandmother’s book again tomorrow, okay?”
Smiling, feeling the clouds rolling overhead as if they brushed very faintly against her skin, Emilia nodded. “Okay.”
Thunder rumbled even more loudly in the sky, the gusting wind chivvying the bulk of the growing storm along in a meandering trajectory. It was unusually fortunate that, while this trajectory coincided with the path Emilia and her familiar took, the worst of the rain never quite overtook them as the two made their way through the forest and on down the hill toward town.
~~~
.
Rating: G
Word Count: 1066
Warnings: Magic, Kid-Fic
Summary: 9 year-old Emilia is teaching herself to be a witch, Jute is her familiar.
Author's Notes: I wrote a portion of this quite some time ago, then finished it to try submitting for publication. It's Halloween, I've been writing more with Em and Jute, so I thought I'd post this and then more as it comes.
Blackened leaves crunched and skittered underfoot like crispy-fried bat wings as Emilia passed out of the circle. She was careful to smudge the lines she’d made before she left. Looking upward, she watched the vaulted ceiling of nearly bare branches pass above her, enjoying the dizzy strange feeling it gave her. Eyes still on the sky, her feet found the usual trail through the woods by habit.
"You may fall down,” Jute cautioned quietly from somewhere behind her. Emilia smiled a tiny smile and spread her arms out to her sides, slowly spinning while continuing along the widening packed-dirt path.
"What good is anything if you worry about everything?” Emilia tried not to sound smug, but knew some of it leaked out.
Jute made a small huffing sound and said nothing more, but the disapproval was quite loud enough without adding any words.
Wind lifted the hem of Emilia’s black dress and the long fringes on her crocheted shawl, swirling them with extra panache as they whirled outward with her spinning. A single droplet of cold tapped her on the nose and she stopped, only wavering a little bit with mild dizziness, her green eyes narrowing as she looked intently at the gray sky overhead.
"Rain,” Jute commented.
"Of course!” Emilia smirked, utterly pleased with herself. "I knew it would work!”
"It was due to rain anyway.”
So commonsensical, so prosaic, so boring, Emilia thought, but did not say. Instead, she waited for another drop, to confirm what she already felt was certain. "But not until tomorrow,” she murmured as two more drops touched her cheek and forehead almost simultaneously.
Jute’s silence was rather loud and Emilia firmly ignored it.
Grumbling rumbles echoed from the darkening sky and Emilia clasped her hands to her chest in delight. "Oh, wonderful!”
"You are going to get wet,” Jute said, the bland words now off to the left.
"I don’t care,” Emilia said, suddenly breaking into a run, kicking and crunching and thumping along the path through the autumn-stained leaves, feeling the cold air on her cheeks and the dampening wind in her lungs. "What good is making rain if you don’t get to play in it?”
"You take much upon yourself, Em.”
Emilia stopped at a bend in the path, putting her hands on her hips under the thick shawl, glaring at Jute’s position. "Tell me that it wasn’t me, Jute. Flat out tell me that I didn’t change the balance with my spell.”
Jute’s silence stretched onward, broken by the increasing number of raindrops tapping crisply down upon dried leaves. Emilia tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, searching the air for the faint wavering that was Jute’s not-quite-invisible form.
"Hm?” She pressed.
"I cannot say that you had nothing to do with the rain, Em.”
"Aha!” Emilia crowed somewhat quietly.
"But, neither can I say that you were solely responsible.”
"Jute!” Emilia stomped her foot, heavy-heeled mary-janes making an almost hollow sound on the hard-packed dirt of the path.
"I cannot lie, Em.” Jute’s slightly apologetic tone was almost enough to soothe the girl’s annoyance.
"Did I ask you to?” Emilia gave an exasperated sigh and waved her hand at the faint, drifting drizzle that was rapidly evolving into an actual light rain. "It was a good spell and I felt it go out. Now, it’s raining. I know I did it, Jute. I’m sure of it! I felt it working!”
"Emilia…” Jute seemed reluctant—more reluctant than usual—to pick a side of the fence to ‘be’ on.
"Jute…” Emilia softened her tone and intertwined her fingers before her. "Why are you being this way lately?”
"Things are changing…you are changing, Em.”
"Yes, I’m getting better at magic!” The girl replied cockily.
"Even so, you have to think about the consequences of your actions."
Emilia rolled her eyes and blew air through pouty lips. Jute remained silent, but the palpable presence at the edges of Emilia's senses felt worried and frustrated.
It wasn’t easy teaching herself to be a witch like her Gramma had been. No one believed in such things anymore, but Emilia did. She’d found Gramma’s book in the attic, had called up her own familiar… mostly.
Jute had come to her, a whisper of presence at the edge of the circle she’d made with salt, called from elsewhere by the offering of five drops of her blood at the points of the star—a pentagram, she learned later, because it had five points—and words from a language her Gramma had known and she was barely learning. Jute had promised to be her familiar in return for a body to inhabit. Eventually. It had to be just the right one, both of them had to agree, and Jute was particular.
However, that was something meant to happen later, when she was a little older and had read all of Gramma’s book. It was going to be very complicated and part of what Jute was meant to do in the meantime was help her learn without hurting herself or someone else. Jute took that task a bit too seriously for Emilia’s liking.
For now, right now, all Emilia wanted was to play in the rain she’d brought—well, the rain she’d hurried, anyhow—find some crabapples from the old grove at the center of the forest, and see if Auntie Phoebe would bake them with cinnamon and brown sugar for afters that night.
Emilia spun with her arms out as the raindrops multiplied; the tapping and rustling all around her sounded like the footsteps of a fairy army, and every drop that touched her felt like a tiny, cold kiss on her skin.
“Em,” Jute was close by, spinning with her, and there was something warmer in with the worry now. Something like pride and approval. “Let’s go over the first few chapters in your grandmother’s book again tomorrow, okay?”
Smiling, feeling the clouds rolling overhead as if they brushed very faintly against her skin, Emilia nodded. “Okay.”
Thunder rumbled even more loudly in the sky, the gusting wind chivvying the bulk of the growing storm along in a meandering trajectory. It was unusually fortunate that, while this trajectory coincided with the path Emilia and her familiar took, the worst of the rain never quite overtook them as the two made their way through the forest and on down the hill toward town.
~~~
.
