It started innocuously. Briar, as his usual, helped out in cleaning around the house like a good little boy - because he was. He had a knack for dusting and washing and scrubbing away until the sin of dirt was all but purified under his benediction -- but, but, spots remained. He is, after all, not even five feet tall. This made it frustratingly difficult to do much more than he's been doing for his previous years, which didn't seem right now that he was a recognized mage of Hargeon. His slow growth, owed between late puberty and elf genes, was rarely a cause of insecurity for him: but that spot of old soot over a bookcase that he'd have to ask his mom to come and clear ... he sucked in through his teeth.
Less innocuous was his various adventures about Blue Pegasus, especially these recent hot spring trips. Mages seemed to have some kind of ... peculiar penchant for extreme sports, and never before had the fourteen year old been faced with rock climbing as a team building exercise. Its additional requirements left alone, he'd have bonked somethin' for the ability to keep up with the others in their expeditions. This, thankfully, could be remedied without much trouble one afternoon.
"Okay," he breathed, balancing his oak stick within hands that bent at his elbows in its heft. He was no master nor stranger to his magic. Soul Dew had been with him from a young age thanks to his family's more magical nature, and his use of it was always both subtle and light enough to ask little. He rarely used it for more than an instant materialization or thin coating, so focusing now ... it was new. That was nice, too. He could get used to this rush of both testing his limits and expanding on them. This was just another quality of being a true mage now, wasn't it? ... Ehe.
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