She had flowers in her hair.

At least I think she did. And that's because I was the one who had put the flowers there.

No wait, that's not quite right. I didn't put flowers in her hair. I gave her a crown made out of wild flowers. Flowers picked from the outskirts of Springvale. We would go out and play in the summer evenings after all the chores had been done. And then we -

- so magic is based on the conflict between two Principles, the Higher Principle which changes the world and its enemy, the Low Principle of Materialism -

We would dance I think. My childhood friend and I would dance through the dusk until the stars came out. But one evening, when under the starlight, she said -

- Materialism is the ultimate challenge any mage needs to face. It opposes us whenever we seek to use our power. By focusing on the fundamental, immutable truth of the Higher Principle we -

She said something. I'm sure she did. My childhood friend told me something while we were dancing cheek to cheek under the stars. I focus my mind, trying to read my childhood friend's lips within the mist of my memory -

- an immutable truth like love, for instance. By grasping the eternal Higher Principle, the mage can enforce it upon the world, in accordance with his will -

The wind whispers in my ear, carrying the fragrance of my childhood friend's body, pressed against mine. She's so close, I can almost see her features. Let me remember, just this once -

"Mac ..." a soft feminine voice whispers, shaking me to the core.

My arms tighten around her waist and I feel my muscles straining in anticipation.

"Mac ..." the voice says again and a lock of hair brushes my nose, nearly causing me to sneeze.

"I -" my mouth moves on its own accord, the words coming out in a jumble.

- but there is of course the dialectal theory, which exists as the polar opposite of -

"SENIOR BROTHER NAIR!" a woman's voice screams and the private world I share with my childhood friend shatters into a thousand pieces.

.....

"Shit!" I yell waving my arms about in confusion, the morning sun beating against my face. Blinking myopically, I recall where I actually am. The Gardens of Robeur Keep. No place like home, isn't there?

"Mac, did you spend the whole night sleeping here?" Christina asks as she bends over me, concern all over her face, long hair hanging over her shoulder and tickling my nose.

"Oog." I grunt, blearily sitting up, "Let me get my bearings first."

My brain sluggishly begins to chug back into action as I crick my neck, working out the stiffness that had settled in after a night sleeping rough. Right, I had made it to Robeur Keep last night on foot, with the help of a bit of magic to speed things along. Nothing terribly complex, just something to boost how fast I walked. Then after that -

"I lost my key to the dorms last night." I sigh, rubbing my brow, "Administration was not open, so it was camping in the gardens or head to an inn."

"OK." Christina nods dubiously, the look on her face not changing, "Are you sure you're feeling fine, Mac?"

"Sure. Right as rain." I grunt, picking out the grass that had gotten mussed up in my hair, "Why do you ask?"

"You're wearing a dress." Christina delicately points out.

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"Shit!" I shout in alarm, leaping to my feet. Damn it, I had forgotten about the stupid disguise Ramon had hooked me up with. That's why I rushed back to the Keep. So that I could at least change back to my regular clothes. Of course losing my dorm key became a problem.

"Careful!" Christina raises her voice slightly in alarm, but I barely notice my feet getting tangled up with the long dress.

My feet trip over the expensive silk and I begin teetering like a tree that had been worked over by lumberjacks. My arms swing outward and catch on to the bust of Hero Gallant that I had chosen to take shelter under last night. I land on the bust hard, lips brushing against the granite surface of Gallant's cheek as he stares imperiously off into the distance.

"What are you doing here anyway?" I grumble at Christina while untangling the dress, "No one should be in the Gardens so early in the morning."

"Well, Senior Brother Henrik decided to move his lecture out to the Gardens today." Christina plays with a lock of hair as she looks behind her, "Said that the fresh air would be invigorating."

My eyes follow Christina's gaze and sure enough, I see the assembled ranks of Battle Mage trainees seated on the grass, with Henrik standing before them, expounding away on whatever subject he's teaching. Everybody is making a show of paying attention to the lecture, but I can see a few apprentices sneaking glances at me and Christina.

" - but the dialectal theory is ultimately a dead end," Henrik drones away, "with the Higher Principle being the prime mover in magic."

"Oh for fuck's sake." I groan, sinking my face on to Gallant's shoulder in embarrassment. What a way to start the morning.

"Uh, I think its fine, you know," Christina says nervously, "If you want to wear a dress Mac, you should just go for it. Don't let anyone stop you."

"I'll have you know," I straighten up and square my shoulders, "There are very good reasons for me to be wearing a dress."

"Indeed?" an urbane, unimpressed voice cuts into the conversation.

"Yes. Indeed." I turn to face Henrik, the man's bald pate shining in the sun. Henrik's a homosexual looking man, the first impression reinforced by his incredibly slight, almost waifish build. Even his facial features are effeminate and delicate. I glare at the maybe, no almost certain, homosexual before me, daring him to challenge my statement.

"A reason I doubt we need to hear." Henrik dismisses with a roll of his eyes, but I'm not letting him humiliate me so easily.

"Have you worn a dress before, Henrik?" I demand, closing the distance between us.

"No." Henrik snorts flatly.

"Then what do you know about wearing dresses?" I sneer, "The benefits? The reasons for doing such a thing?"

"I don't see how -" Henrik protests.

"Of course you don't." I wave Henrik's words away, "You're just close minded. That's not the right attitude for a teacher to take, isn't it?"

"That's non -" Henrik's voice becomes slightly louder, but the force of my logic is irresistible.

"You dismiss something you know nothing about." I sigh and shake my head sadly, "Really, we should be broadening the horizons of the apprentices. That's part of our duty as instructors."

"Christina," Henrik ignores me completely and turns to our dear apprentice, "Please return to the class, your friends need help with their assignment."

The young woman leaves us, staring worriedly as Henrik and I face off. The silence between the two of us quickly becomes uncomfortable until he finally speaks.

"I'll be petitioning the House to remove Christina from apprenticing under you." Henrik finally says, "You're clearly a bad influence."

"On what ground?" I snort, folding both arms across my chest. Bravado aside, this threat from Henrik is getting me worried. Its as good as accusing me of incompetence before our superiors.

"I think it should be obvious." Henrik huffs as he starts to walk away, "Goodbye Nair."

"Then you should be able to explain it." I shoot back, "Don't presume to tell me how to do my job. You'll just look stupid."

My compromising situation aside, I did have a good reason to give if the House hauled me up on Henrik's complaint. I had very publicly saved Ramon from a grizzly and extremely dire death, puns fully intended. My heroics and the need to escape from the Order without triggering a conflict were enough to justify the associated conduct.

Of course there was the lingering question of what I was doing at Temple in the first place, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

"Christina's already confirmed to be a Battle Mage." Henrik scowls, "Whatever lessons you're teaching are absolutely pointless for her."

"That's hardly my fault, isn't it?" I shrug with both hands at the waist. Wonderful, you just admitted that Christina's career path has been set, meaning my conduct hardly matters at the end of the day. Of course I had guessed all this already.

"Good. Bye." Henrik snaps with finality and stalks away.

I was not looking forward to that encounter. Henrik and I were never close, in fact we hardly ever interacted. But I always felt an air of disapproval emanating from him whenever we spoke. Its as if he took an instinctive dislike of me.

Whatever. His ass pain is his problem. Not mine. With a dramatic sweep of the long dress, I begin making my way toward administration to get my dorm key replaced.

"By the way," Henrik's voice rings out from behind me, "Dresses generally don't have blood on them."

I ignore the parting jab and keep walking. I have an explanation ready if needed anyway.