#oh i don't know what this is. it's just julianne having a complain hehe

[bretongirlwrites]

Julianne, who entirely overdid herself in defeating Mannimarco, was brought back for her convalescence to the chapel in Bruma. Her magicka having been entirely spent, she is forbidden from doing magic for a bit, so as not to overexert herself again.

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‘Ah! it’s marvellous to see you up and about, Miss Traven,’ said Cirroc interrupting my nothing, ‘but for all our sakes, don’t overdo it, will you?’

I had already tramped over to the opposite wall, and back, and repeated the action; I had already, for want of other things to do, stretched my arms and combed my hair; and all this having tired me beyond what I thought was possible, I’d taken to leaning against the wall and staring at it as if there were a window there. Father had brought me a small stack of books; but they were some, dry, on theology, and all the rest on magic; and magic was my damnable prohibition, – for a few days, Father had beseeched me, while your font of magicka heals, – you don’t want to overdo it.

‘I don’t think,’ said I desperately, ‘that I can underdo things. I am going insane in here. O how do you live like this!’

‘By appreciation of simplicity,’ said Cirroc shrugging, ‘and devotion to the Nine who provide us our every need, – but I know you are not the clerical sort. I shall see tomorrow if Novaroma has anything lighter to read, or the library, –’

‘I think I’m beyond even Waughin Jarth’s help now,’ said I; but good-humouredly; and cast a last glance out of my non-window before collapsing onto the bed: ‘oh! you’re a mage, Cirroc, it’s like cutting off your damn arm. I am going insane!’ said I, again, –

‘Only another three weeks,’ said Cirroc chuckling sympathetically.

He must have thought that Father had informed me of this, – that though Father had seen my sinking disappointment, he’d not melted in the face of it and understated, – he must not, in short, have suspected that Father had told me: you must not do any magic for a few days. A few days! and I’d battered at the bars of my invisible dungeon and protested and he’d put an arm around my shoulder and said that everything would be all right, –

‘Three weeks!’ I cried.

‘Then,’ said he, ‘ – no doubt you’ll be back at the University by then, – you will have a strict regimen to get your magic back without straining yourself, –’

‘Three weeks!’

‘Think of it as a muscle, Miss Traven,’ said he, ‘have you ever sprained your foot, perhaps? It needs rest, and a slow return to normal, –’

I am sure that sparks might have flown from all my hair and fingers, – had the thing not been banned, – were the font on which I drew, so out of reach, that even had I wanted to, I’d have made a half-glowing cinder at best, and watched it die on the same bed I’d barely survived in. 

‘Three weeks!’ I murmured: and buried my face in the pillow.

He thought at first that I’d burst into tears: moved closer: but when I raised my head, I was as surprised as he was, to be laughing. Laughing, – because it was silly, – because it was trivial, – because I’d lived weeks, months in despair, three days in hell! – and now that all was said and done, I complained that I was deprived of a pleasure, for but three weeks, – a small repercussion, for killing a man, and bringing light all upon the world again!

Father had said, honestly though not without some paternal pride, that: you’ll be one of the greatest mages of the era, when they write the history-books. Here sat the greatest mage of the era, staring at a wall, with not the least bit of magic in her fingertips! o what a sorry pathetic unmoving sight I may be, now all was said and done, – 

‘Three weeks,’ said I leaning back: ‘a most inconvenient prescription. Thank you, doctor.’

‘It will fly by,’ returned Cirroc. 

‘Like a new alterationist and his novice levitation-spell,’ said I: ‘well! Cirroc, – I won’t turn my nose up to a bit of Waughin Jarth, –’

‘I’ll have a look tomorrow,’ he promised and made to leave.

‘It had better be the complete works,’ said I, ‘that will occupy me for a day or two,’ and when he closed the door, I closed my eyes still laughing, – and you will none of you believe it, but I was happy enough for three weeks, – happy that it was over, and I was alive, – alive enough, that my mind, unfettered, raced to complain!...