Divina
Divina deGloria watched as her oldest child, niece, and nephew all ravenously demolished several servings of a particularly well-appointed glossy yellow sheet cake. It is easy at times to forget the power of a fully appointed [Professional Chef] occupation, especially one who owns his own restaurant.
Divina was solely responsible for Gio, Hatra, and Quinn’s love of lemon-poppyseed cakes, muffins, and even ice cream, all because the little pre-made mixes of the stuff were on sale for a truly outrageous price a couple of years back. It was a gamble at the time to see if three young children would like the more subdued flavor of lemon as opposed to strawberry, vanilla, or chocolate, but every year the kids still begged for lemon poppy seed everything. Her three little warriors had truly impressed everyone this year. Divina scooped up her two younger children as they ran by, one under each arm as she walked over to the table where her husband was somehow still talking to her brother and brother-in-law about work.
As she walked the short distance across the dining room, she felt the telltale sign of her shoulder acting up. The physical feedback response of [Pristine Stationary Mastery] was very manageable when working with files and mail at the insurance company where she worked, but the skill bristled like an ornery housecat when used to affix decorations like she had done this evening. She brushed the discomfort aside as she nailed her eyes to the side of her handsome husband’s swarthy profile as he gesticulated wildly to his table.
Max. well. Maxwell. Max. Darling husband of mine. Love of my life. Father of my children.
She sent through their telepathic bond. His shoulders bunched at the crisp tone of her message.
Our baby boy is heading off to school in less than 48 hours. Perhaps since you feel the need to talk about your rocks so much, I should find you a great big boulder to sleep next to tonight?
Her silver-haired brother glanced a knowing smile and nodded in her direction, putting his hand in his partner’s as Maxwell rubbed the back of his own head, issuing an apology to the table, and walking in Divina’s direction. He expertly approached, taking one of their twins from her in a practiced motion. “What’s wrong, honey?” said Max, his dulcet voice already working to dull the needles in her gaze.
“It’s just… I’m sorry.” she exhaled. “I just can’t shake the feeling that we haven’t done enough for him. First thing Monday morning, we have to drop him off at that… that giant crystal deathtrap. I know it’s what he wants, but those baby nobles are going to eat him alive, max. Maybe we sh-”
Maxwell grasped her free hand with his, each of them swaying slightly as their 7-year-old hostages slowly lost the fight with unconsciousness. “Our baby is seventeen, and on track to being taller than I was at his age. Our boy is a tough cookie, div. He gets it. We’ve all spent the entire summer subtly trying to pepper in how tough this is going to be for him, and for better or for worse, he’s got the deGloria Wit from your side, and he’s even more stubborn than my father was.” Maxwell was whispering by the time he finished, noticing his daughter nodding off into the crook of his neck.
They walked over to the recliners in the corner of the dining area, setting down their children next to the already passed out form of Sam. Nudging the man, Divina whispered into his ear. “C'mon, Sammy, let’s do presents so we can wrap this up; it’s getting late.”
Sam groggily shuffled out of his chair and nodded. The trio walked over to the dwindling number of people at the main tables, friends already beginning to parcel out leftovers with parchment paper. Three very full, and very tired teenagers were chatting amicably.
Sam pulled up a chair, handing each of them a small parcel. A few other people approached with small bags as well, signaling Sam to start. “You three really surprised all of us this year. I’ve known you since you were only old enough to try sticking your hands into my aquarium display, but I can say earnestly that you all have grown into fine young people. When you rocked up to me, during a lunch rush of all times to ask to work part time, I didn’t think any of you were going to take this as seriously as you did. For the past five months, you have all earned every bit you’ve made and then some. I am going to miss you kids, so you better come back here when you’re all rich and famous and remember old Sam.”
One after the other, Quinn, Gio, and Hatra all hugged Sam first, then opened their gifts. In each parcel was a small square container with rounded edges, glistening with the sheen of an enchantment. Small glassy beads adorned the front edges.
Gio was the first to open his, gasping at the contents.
“Its… Hot! Sam, is this a spatial lunchbox?” said Quinn, clearly sticking his hand into the broth.
Laughing, Sam replied, “Well, don’t burn yourself on it, lad!” Waving his hand, he summoned an interface for the three of them.
[Stasis Bento] < A small spatially and temporally enhanced storage device that will store a single meal in near perfect condition, (less than one cubic foot of edible material). No other substances may be stored, and the device requires manual charging for long periods of storage. Manufactured by Starling and Co.
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“Sam…” Gio threatened. “This is… You didn’t-”
“I know damn well that you kids keep shaming me into buying a new spatial vessel for the tea that nobody besides you three complains about. And now that I got you one, it’s too lavish? Pish posh.” Sam chuckled.
“As a [Professional Chef] It is my sacred duty to ensure that my tribe is well fed, no matter how far from my hearth they venture.” As he spoke, his words felt like they resonated with something deep in the wood and cement of the building surrounding them. “May you three never go hungry on your travels.”
Short for words, they each nodded, issuing Sam a grateful look. One by one, they each received small parcels from their family. Most of them were practical and inexpensive objects, most of them tailored to the recipient. From his fathers, Quinn received whetstones, arm guards, balms, and just about everything except a blade, which he would be issued when he reported to the Huntsman Agency on Monday, where he had arranged to be taking the class [Apprentice Hunter: Bladesman]. Paulo and Heath drew him into a tight hug as they made way for Dola. Hatra received a few cheap tool sets, reference guides, and a dazzling pink set of goggles from her mother, for when she eventually managed to land an engineering apprenticeship in the essence distillery. Hatra and Quinn looked at each other conspiratorially, bedecked out in their new gear. Divina eyed Maxwell, wondering what her niece and nephew were up to.
Gio
Giorgio deGloria sat awkwardly as the last to receive his presents. He understood that this was supposed to be a big ceremony, and he couldn't help but chafe under the attention. In the Copper Ring, where they all lived, nobody truly had any legacies to pass down for the start of the next cycle. “Passing the Wand” was what the nobles in the upper tiers called the ceremony in which a young person received either restricted information, some sort of relic, bloodline inheritance, or other bestowal before they were allowed to unseal their class. The ceremony was supposed to be symbolic of the passing of responsibility of leadership from one generation to the next, as the new era of guardians rose to prominence to protect the civilians of the realm from the multitude of dangers outside of the walls of civilization.
Gio knew that there wasn’t going to be anything that his family could provide him to compete with his peers at Crystal Ring, and he didn’t care. He looked down at the bento box that Sam had been gracious enough to give him, and he felt good. He looked around the room, seeing warm smiles and his people, and he swore to himself.
I will be grateful for whatever it is that they give me. This whole party is enough of a drain. Some of these people are struggling to afford their taxes, or medical bills. I will not be an entitled brat. Fix your face!
His cousins approached him, and Gio cocked his head in confusion. As they drew closer and he saw what Hatra was holding, he felt a rising heat of frustration within him that was reaching his ears. Hatra and Quinn both looked him dead in the face, features set in determination. Hatra held out a small frog-shaped pouch, and clasped Gio’s hands around it.
Gio’s voice was cracking as he whispered to his cousins, drops forming at the corners of his eyes. “We’re not supposed to get gifts for each other. I didn't get you guys anything.” Gio did not see his aunt and uncles wiping at their faces. The room was quiet.
“Gio, you are the hardest worker I know. You deserve this.” said Hatra. Her pale features clashed against her dyed black hair. The young woman who was insecure about how light her natural silver hair made her features look was nowhere to be found. Gio could not bring himself to question the determination of the girl he grew up with.
Quinn stepped up, putting his hand over Gio’s and Hatra’s. “I know you know this, Gio - but Hatra and I aren’t going to slack off just because you’re not around. We have to try and look out for each other. You decided to go off and become a true mage, and I think that’s awesome! You need to go to that fancy wizard school and show them how we do it down in the copper ring!”
The three teens were solidly crying, and hugging. Gio bowed his head towards his cousins, and accepted the small green bag. Gio instantly knew what was in the bag, having seen Hatra saving up her Bits all summer in that bag, and seeing how it seemed to bulge out twice as much as the day before.
“I don't know how much spell transcriptions go for these days, but we were hoping that you could get your hands on something real shiny with that.” said Hatra, wiping tears from her eyes. “We’re gonna miss you, Gio. Stay in touch!”
After Quinn and Hatra took a step back, Gio’s parents stepped forward, unwrapping a rectangular book from neat parchment.
“Your father and I want you to know-” Divina began, stammering through her words as she began to shake with tears.
“We’re real proud of you, champ.” finished his father. “Getting a full scholarship to Crystal Ring is a real rarity from the Industry Rings. Your grandfather would have been very proud of you, too. This was his. Your mother and I took the liberty of filling the first few pages for you, alongside what we were able to recover from my father’s notes.”
Maxwell handed Gio a sturdy, worn looking spellbook. The clasp and edge protectors were made from silver that Gio’s father had clearly recently polished, having been tarnished the last time Gio saw the book in the attic of their home. Gio knew the smeared, magicless pages of the old book by heart. He received the book with great care and opened it. His mother had clearly rebound sections with new paper, and to his great surprise there were three spells and one nearly complete spell from his grandfather’s notes. Gio knew that the incomplete spell was some sort of minor water-based incantation, but it wouldn't respond to mana input. He was glad that his parents left it in.
One day I want to restore that spell. I don’t care if it purifies a small amount of drinking water or just makes a puddle.
Gio tried not to turn the pages too eagerly towards the three new spells. His father spared him the agony of trying not to be too excited.
“The first two are duplicates that your mother and I got from our jobs. It’s not very common to have paper magic around integrated system mages, but thankfully we both managed to find something—it’s not much. The last one was something that we’ve been saving for. Go ahead and look at them.” Divina and Maxwell held each other in a loose embrace, enjoying the enraptured look on their son’s face.
[Hairline Fracture]
[Detect Magic]
[Prismatic Shape]