||{Festival Mishaps}||[Oshe/Francis]

[icyreflections]

Though the sun was high in the sky, Oshe laid with his face pressed into the binding of an old textbook titled, “Dark Magic and The Sages The Cast Them”. To anyone else this book might have been dull- it was about an old strain of dark spells that were cast years ago by a group of evil sages and killed many innocent cats. The sages were destroyed for using this magic to harm citizens and the magic had deemed forbidden and was long forgotten. Even the ancestors of these dark wizards lost the ability to remember or cast these spells. Oshe thought it was quite interesting- there was the possibility that there was a whole branch of magic that lay undiscovered for generations. He wished he could maybe find some old spells of his own and see if he could resurrect them. He wasn’t interested in fame, power, or fortune- he just wanted to see if it was possible that a dormant spell could become alive again. What would it require? Could he do it or would he have to become a sage first?

He was so interested in this book and invested in his thoughts that he spent the whole evening reading and finally collapsed as the sun was rising into the sky. Oshe sat at his desk now, his face amongst the pages of his book and the morning was waning away. It was nearly noon before Oshe awoke with a start and hopped to his feet. He had slept in! What about his duties? He had to hurry to Francis’s house!

The young Siamese tom rummaged around his messy abode, searching for small sacks to tie to his belt and grabbed the pink cloak that he flung onto his bed before excitedly plummeting into the history book he borrowed from his mentor the day before. He was so ashamed of himself- it was an honor to be taught under a sage and Oshe couldn’t believe how irresponsible he was. If his father was hear, he’d surely be furious! It was he, after all, who sent Oshe away to learn magic and in his words, ‘better himself’ and ‘do something useful for once’. Oshe’s father never really warmed up to his son- he was ecstatic that his first born was a boy but when he realized that Oshe couldn’t speak clearly and fidgeted under others’ gaze, he realized that it was impossible that Oshe could aspire to be anything that would mean fame and fortune for the family later in life. He was deeply ashamed of his son and kept him from the public eye until he was old enough to give to Francis to train. Oshe knew his father didn’t really think he was able to learn anything and retain it but in fact, he was learning quite a lot under his mentor’s sound guidance and had never been happier.

Which is why Oshe, as he headed out the door and trotted quickly down the road with his cloak flowing in the breeze behind him, felt like there was a hot coal stuck in his throat. He was so nervous about the entire situation that he just wished he could find a hole and burry himself in it for a few years. He didn’t want to see the upset look in his mentor’s eyes when he showed up late. He didn’t want Francis to think that he didn’t take his lessons seriously. It was all he had to look forward to in life! He needed them more than anything. He hoped that Francis would understand. He scolded himself bitterly in his head and silently warned himself not to do this again.

The streets were decorated lavishly and there were cats all over the place with smiles on their faces as they headed towards the fair grounds. Oshe did his best to duck and dodge these cats and tried to keep his eyes averted from the attention of the cats passing by him. He had forgotten about the festival! Though it was a momentous historical occasion, Oshe wasn’t too keen on attending. He wanted to see the heir to the throne get crowned, of course, but he could do without the drinking, loud noises, and rambunctious cats playing silly carnival games and competing in frightening tournaments. Oshe preferred to just stay at home and read. He’d slip away when the actual day of the crowning finally arrived.

After a few minutes of dodging excited festival-goers, Oshe finally made it to Francis’s home. He padded up to the door and reached out a paw to turn the doorknob but hesistated. His paw hovered in midair and he suddenly felt like hyperventilating. Here he was. This was real. It was his last moments as a page. He wanted to cry but he painfully held back his tears and swallowed the stone he felt in his throat. His stomach was full of butterflies as he knocked on the door, opened it, and stepped in.

“H-hello?” He called into the home, sticking his head through the small crack he made with the door. “F-francis… I-it’s m-m-me, O-oshe… I’m s-s-sorry I’m l-l-late.” He stepped all the way in now and closed the door behind him. “Y-you w-w-wouldn’t b-b-believe the t-traffic out th-there…” He looked around expectantly for his mentor, holding his breath and fidgeting anxiously.

What was going to happen to him now?

[stormiday]

"And the order goes; Capricorn, Aquarius, Pisces, Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo,Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, and the cycles repeats." The steel gray and white tabby spoke to himself as he re read the familiar astronomy textbook he's had ever sinve he was a kit. His whiskers twitched in the dim light of his home. He turned his yellow gaze from his cluttered study. Books on every subject from History to Folk lore. Scrolls were scattered about the half lit room. The tom knew he would need to clean it soon.

Francis heard a familiar voice at his front door. He pulled open the wooden door to his study, and dashed to the window next to his door. He pulled back the cloth curtain and saw his page at the door. He pulled out his pocket watch, the short black hand read that is was after noon. Francis had lost himself in the old text book.

Frantically, the sage opened the door. His eyes had a calm, fatherly look to them now as he saw the familiar page, almost drowned out in his complex pink robe. "You're fine Oshe. I lost track of time myself." He chuckled. "Come on in, are you hungry?" He offered the saimese tom. He gestured him in with his long, striped tail and hung his fringed scarf on a hook next to the door.

[icyreflections]

Oshe felt a rush of warmth wash over him. He was no long afraid of his mentor and worried about his future. How could he have ever doubted Francis? He was everything he wished his own father was and smiled shyly at him for behaving like a silly kitten. He stepped into the room, his sheepishness beinging to ebb away. Francis’s home was so comforting to him- he had lived here for a few months when he first began his training as his page and he looked around with comfortable familiariy. He unclasped the hook at his neck and hung his robes on the hook beside Franci’s scarf and mewed, “y-yes, th-thank you.”

He tottered after the sage and remarked with a slight laugh edging his voice, “I w-was u-up a-all n-night r-reading th-that b-book you l-lent m-me. It is v-very g-good.”

[stormiday]

"I thought you would" The sage said warmly to his page. " That was my favorite book when I was your age." The tabby tom chuckled and padded over to the fire place and placed a large fish on the grate above the wood. He closed his eyes and inhaled. The sage concentrate, and a small blot of lightning came from his dark paw. Within moment, the wood and kindling in the brick fire place was smoldering. The fish cooked as it's mouth watering aroma filled the house. The sage took several steps towards his page. The familiar father gleam in his eyes returned.

"What do you want Oshe?" He asked calmly. He remembered himself in hid youth. Staying awake in the young hours of the morning reading that book. Then after finishing it for the first time, he knew that he was going to be a sage. Not evil, but kind and understanding. He was going to be the best sage the kingdom had ever seen. The goal still lives with the tabby tom. He focused himself back to the present. He turned his gaze on his page and waited for a answer from the shy tom.

[icyreflections]

“Oh um,” Oshe said, smiling shyly and tucking his chin inward towards his neck under the older tom’s gaze. Though he felt immensely more comfortable with Francis than any other cat on the planet, he still couldn’t help his timid ways. It wasn’t often that Oshe was treated with such kindness and respect in his youth and he still had trouble getting over the mistreatment he endured by his father. He fiddled with his toes a little and made himself make eye contact with Francis- something he couldn’t do with anyone he didn’t know well- and offered hopefully, “I w-would really l-like some t-toast with strawberry j-jam and t-tea, if you d-don’t m-mind.”

There were many differences in the way Oshe behaved when Francis was around. He didn’t fidget nearly as much as he did around strangers, he made eye contact when he spoke, and he had more control over his stuttering habit. There were times that Oshe was hopeful that he’d be able to speak without the blasted affliction- which was also a big step for him because Oshe rarely though about anything optimistically. Francis made him feel safe and nurtured. He knew he could trust him and that he wouldn’t be punished for being himself. He was able to connect with the wise and kind sage and refer to him for advice, something he wouldn’t have even tried with his actual father in fear he’d he yelled at or punished.

He followed Francis into the kitchen and sat down at the center table, patiently waiting for Francis to sit with him after fetching the needed ingredients for his late breakfast. As he sat, looking around the room comfortably, he began to make idle chatter to fill the quiet. “Yes, that book was quite interesting… It made me wonder if the dark magic that was being cast back then could ever be resurrected. I certainly wouldn’t want to actually USE the spells- they are so dangerous! But I can’t seem to understand how an entire branch of magic could vanish like that…” he went quiet for a while as he thought about the possibility of the most powerful and dangerous of spells- one that allowed the user to kill their victims with the flick of a wrist or another to use living beings as their puppets or another that could raise the dead- these spells were unheard of in today’s times. It must have been frightening when these dark sages walked the grounds of the city, threatening the lives of all who resided within with their cruelty. “On one paw, I want to see if it CAN come back.. I want to confirm magic can’t die… But on the other paw,” he shuddered, “what if we have the same problem we had so many years ago? What if the magic was possessed by the wrong cat? Are there counter curses to puppet masters and raising the dead?”

He looked to Francis expectantly, eagerly waiting for his answer. As he spoke of the things he read, traces of his dream began to return to him and he began to feel more nervous. There was a legend he once heard of a mad sage living in the Dust Manion down the street from him. He couldn’t remember where he heard it- but he began to wonder. Was it possible that one of the sages that he read about was haunting the mansion near his home? Oshe suddenly felt sick. He didn’t think he’d be able to ever sleep at night again. Knowing if there was a counter curse might make him feel a little safer and he waited for Francis’s reply all the more.

[stormiday]

“Sure Oshe.” The tabby sage spoke as he made his way to a cabinet. He pulled a half-full jar of the pinkish jam he had especially for his page, he cut a slice of bread from a loaf that had its place on counter and placed it on the grate under the on where is fish continued to sizzle and waft its delicious aroma around the house. Finally, Francis placed a small teabag in a kettle and carefully placed it on the hook on the fireplace.

The tall sage sat down in the chair next to his Siamese page on the corner of the long center table. He chuckled some at the emotion Oshe expressed as he questioned the use of dark magic and weather magic can die or not. This tom was nothing like the kit that was thrown to Francis to teach. Francis extended a paw and rubbed his page’s head. “I think you’re going to be the one to find out Oshe.” Francis pondered the theory the blue pointed tom just stated. Could magic fall into the wrong paws and have an outcome similar to the old story? Surely not at this age, there was only Francis as a sage, and Volf as the head sage. And neither of them would use magic for those purposes. And then there was Oshe who Francis knew never would use magic against others, and Cash, the other page. Although Francis didn’t know him well, the tabby sage knew he wouldn’t be the one to become like the dark sages of the tale. “If it did end up in the wrong paws,” He started, noticing Oshe look suddenly sick and his eyes seemed to plea for answer. “,you’d be skilled enough to stop them. I’m your mentor of course.” Francis chuckled at the slight self-praise. Francis stepped over to the fireplace with two simple, white porcelain plates and carefully put the fish on one, and the golden brown toast on the other. He placed the jar of strawberry jam in front of Oshe with the toast. And he carefully gripped the steaming kettle with a thick rag and placed it between with cups placed simply next to each of them. Was this what is it was like to be a father? Francis definitely felt a fatherly love for the page. “I could be a good father.” He thought to himself as he imagined himself in this house with a mate, and kits running around. He pushed the though back and began nibbling at his fish.

[icyreflections]

Oshe’s eyes grew wide with fear. Did Francis think he was accusing him of possibly becoming evil or being incompetent to stop it? Oshe began to squirm nervously in his seat and luckily caught himself before tumbling onto the floor. “Oh d-d-dear!” He wallowed pitifully, “I d-d-didn’t m-mean anything b-by it, F-Francis. Of c-course you are my mentor and are you a very g-good one at that. I am sure y-you’d be able to p-p-protect us from anything that d-d-dark.” He felt utterly dimwitted and hung his head shamefully, “I’m s-sorry if I o-offended you, s-sir. I j-just w-w-wanted to know if th-there were counter spells… and if I c-could l-learn them. I th-think that old p-place n-near my h-home is h-haunted. It gives m-me the c-creeps and makes it ver-y difficult t-to sleep at n-night.” He grumbled the last part of his remark under his breath to himself. Francis didn’t need to know how cowardly his page was.

“Thank you, Francis,” Oshe said politely as he took the porcelain plate from his mentor and set it in front of him. The toast smelt wonderful and it was a perfect golden-brown. Oshe couldn’t wait to eat it- Francis was an excellent cook. He certainly missed eating with him. It was so strange to live on his own after spending so much time with Francis and getting to know and respect him. The sage was like a father to the young page and Oshe had it in his head that he would stay with him until he learned all he could. His real father didn’t approve of this plan and bought him a house of his own- right next to the old, haunted mansion that Oshe hated so much. Oshe’s real parents lived in the human realm but frequented Grimalkin from time to time. They didn’t understand what it was like to live along in a dark, dusty mansion- to live in the shadow of a haunt house where it was rumored a crazed sage killed himself and his family. Oshe shuddered at the very thought.

As Oshe put jam onto his toast and nodded his thanks to Francis for the tea he asked in a curious and some-what enthusiastic tone, “so Francis, w-what are we g-going to b-be studying today?”