From a Dream

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

3. the missing master

she'd been in the Floor almost 3 months, and she didn't know how much more she'd be able to take. He was an awful master. He was a bad master. And then, she thought she was being petulant and unfair. It wasn't that Roujshe didn't teach Subliming when he wasn't there. He. just. never. was. there!

He's the missing master-- she thought as she stroked the leaves of the Motian violet before her. She knew she mustn't be upset and impatient, but she had waited so long to finally become a sublimist. And at this last stage, to be put into a room with stacks and stacks of books and wovings which she could barely decipher -- because of a missing master? Well, that, that was what poor Amaline could barely tolerate.

She looked in dismay at the crushed leaf she was clenching. "Oh no..." she muttered. Ammi pulled her cup of tea near -- it was cooling fast, but the smallest vapor still rose. She quickly drew into it and with a quick thrust, pushed the curling mist over the Motian violet. "I hope that serves as a decent apology," she said and looked carefully as the plant, almost imperceptibly, brightened.

2. verbology and subliming

solid verbs: to be, grow, evolve, takes, gives,
liquid verbs: seems appears looks try
vapor verbs:
subliming verbs [solid sublimes into gas]: transform turn become

you often saw small children running to school in the winter, every four steps blowing hard into the cold air and suddenly bursting wings out of their backs or flying into a fantastic tumble in the air. sometimes, they wore themselves out before even making it to the thatched building. the same thing sometimes happened to older sorts of humans, even though one became well warned before the age of ten.

It took a subliming word to work into the vapor. Sublimes were as often complex as they could be simple, and the best sublimers could force a steady cold clear stream of fog into the air as they sublimed. the weaker sorts didn't require much, and one could get by with a tobacco smoke, or the steam that rose of a pot of tea.

she woke up in a silent scream, her back arched as she tried to shake the dream. it hurt, it hurt, the cold did bother her so, she could feel the dry skin cracking and bursting in the bitter cold. she finally managed a scream out, and only the touch of his hand on her shoulder pulled her from her pain and her dream.