Morning all and welcome to another Monday morning. Personally I could have used another few hours of sleep, but the siren scent of the coffee is calling. By the time the prompts are complete the coffee will be brewed and the last vestiges of sleep can be banished. So on to the prompt! Timers set and off we go.
No clue what is calling the prince to the wizard, but I think it could be fun to play around with.
Monday, January 8th: Bubbles drifted through the air.
Bubbles drifted through the air. We looked up as they cascaded around us. They came in all colors and seemed a veritable rainbow spectrum from the palest pink to the deepest bronze. When they burst, as bubbles usually do, they each burst with a singularity. There was a soft pink on that showered silver sparks when it burst while a green one emitted a trill of delicate notes like bird song. A deep hued burgundy burst with the sound of flatulent thunder and emitted a sulfurous stench as a companion to the sound. As we continued down the path, I found myself avoiding all of the bubbles. While the ones scented with cinnamon and other warming spices were nice, they were not the most frequent and the less pleasant smelling ones were difficult to endure. Likewise, not all sounds were equal. The soft notes of a lullaby or the pleasant bird song were far fewer than those that sounded like dietary eruptions or strangled geese.
As well as avoiding the river of bubbles floating through the air, I tried to look for the source. As we came around the curve in the path I could see a small cottage in the clearing ahead. The bubbles were issuing forth thickly from the chimney. The usual smoke was completely absent.
I frowned. Having never been to a wizard’s cottage before I did not know if this was a common occurrence or something that heralded catastrophe. My experiences with wizards generally involved seeing them from afar and avoiding getting to close to them. I didn’t think they had the capacity to turn me into a frog as the childhood tales claimed, but I was not willing to take a chance. I may only be a fourth son with three healthy and hale older brothers ensuring I had little chance of inheriting, but I considered it better than life in the marsh attempting to catch dragonflies until some princes came around looking for frogs to kiss.
Still, those bubbles were something. I looked over to Kiren. He was frowning as he was looking at the bubbles. I may not have known much about wizards, but I knew that look on Kiren. He was concerned.
“Problems?” I asked.
Kiren shook his head. “He is clearly working on something.”
I waited but there was no further information. Kiren’s steps slowed but he didn’t stop. “And does this bode ill?” I prompted.
Kiren shook himself. “Sometimes he doesn’t like being interrupted.”
“Sometimes?”
Kiren shrugged. |Sometimes he is at an impasse and welcomes the distraction. He claims that letting his mind work on other things often lets the issue simmer and solve itself when he is paying attention elsewhere.
“And this might be one of those times?”
“Maybe,” Kiren said. “But mostly it means you shouldn’t take anything he says as an insult. He can be offensive when he is working and doesn’t generally care about rank.”
“I can accept insult if it is important. This is important.”
Ten til Midnight 