Progress: Week One
The truth of the matter was that things were beginning to get serious, both around the Council members and around town. The rumors that had been spread about a faction of Mages attempting to get some absurd sort of revolution going were beginning to gain some steam. It might only be hysteria or people followning a rumor for the rumor's sake, but Jared hadn't liked the way things were shaping up. During the last Council of Mages meeting, where typically school agenda and community activies were discussed, several members had felt compelled to urge the Council to address the rumors. Jared shook his head and he slowed to another stoplight, tapping his foot as he waited for the green. It was never a good policy to begin responding to such rumors. It only gave people more reason to believe there truly was something going on.
But, the problem that had been troubling Jared all throughout the day was the question of whether there was something going on at all. Was it possible that a group fo Changers had decided they were genetically advanced and ought to bring a dictator before the world of previously peaceable and ungoverned mages? It was something Jared would have to chew over. In the meantime, he was glad to be a part of the dream research Lunah had offered him. If nothing else, he would be mindful of any growing war or attack metaphors and symobls. Jared had always been rather good at reading dreams, despite the fact that he was clearly a much more natural Will-Weaver.
The honking of a horn distracted Jared from his silent reverie, and he pushed the gas and gave his little scooter enough gusto to practically hop into the intersection. Paying more attention to the road, Jared resolved that tomorrow morning he would certainly have to pop in on Oswold to find out a good time for the dream interviews.
Watching the streets pass, Jared stuck his arm out to the left and banked around the turn when he appraoch 3rd Avenue. For the third time, he reminded himself to ask one of the more mechanically inclined Mason-Casters to take look at the loose connection of the blinker wire. It wouldn't take much to reconnect it to the main power flow of the scooter, but he'd rather the connection be solid crafted metal rather than the mickeymouse job he'd do with a soldering gun. Judging by he time on Lunah's wall clock, Stumptown would still be open for another fifteen minutes by the time he arrived. Although the tea had been delicious, it would most likely not hold him over through the rest of the paperwork he had yet to set in on. Not to mention the fact that it was almost certain that the caterer would be just about ready for a few shots herself. As he drew closer, he could judge by the looks of the coffeeshop lights, he had been correct.
But, the problem that had been troubling Jared all throughout the day was the question of whether there was something going on at all. Was it possible that a group fo Changers had decided they were genetically advanced and ought to bring a dictator before the world of previously peaceable and ungoverned mages? It was something Jared would have to chew over. In the meantime, he was glad to be a part of the dream research Lunah had offered him. If nothing else, he would be mindful of any growing war or attack metaphors and symobls. Jared had always been rather good at reading dreams, despite the fact that he was clearly a much more natural Will-Weaver.
The honking of a horn distracted Jared from his silent reverie, and he pushed the gas and gave his little scooter enough gusto to practically hop into the intersection. Paying more attention to the road, Jared resolved that tomorrow morning he would certainly have to pop in on Oswold to find out a good time for the dream interviews.
Watching the streets pass, Jared stuck his arm out to the left and banked around the turn when he appraoch 3rd Avenue. For the third time, he reminded himself to ask one of the more mechanically inclined Mason-Casters to take look at the loose connection of the blinker wire. It wouldn't take much to reconnect it to the main power flow of the scooter, but he'd rather the connection be solid crafted metal rather than the mickeymouse job he'd do with a soldering gun. Judging by he time on Lunah's wall clock, Stumptown would still be open for another fifteen minutes by the time he arrived. Although the tea had been delicious, it would most likely not hold him over through the rest of the paperwork he had yet to set in on. Not to mention the fact that it was almost certain that the caterer would be just about ready for a few shots herself. As he drew closer, he could judge by the looks of the coffeeshop lights, he had been correct.
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