"That, I can do." Tris pulls one braid free from the net holding most of
her hair back, and she unravels it in swift, practiced movements. A wind
picks up, and she nudges it into circling the library, stirring up all of
the tiny scraps of paper.
There's a shiver in the air as his power reaches out - something soothing and right, a cool breeze across the face of the universe, something that lifts all the little aches and pains of ceaselessly being alive, of always being breaking down.
Pages start to flutter in the gusts of ash, and the first book falls out of the wind with a soft thunk. And then a second, directly on top of the first. They keep coming, scattered at first and then in a rush, like raindrops as a storm sweeps in.
It catches her off-guard, because Tris hadn't expected Dillon's power to be
directed at anything besides the books. Even just the edge of it has an
effect. Dillon could do a lot more if he were trying.
She laughs at the books falling to the floor, even if she knows it will
take her weeks to get everything shelved again, then asks, "Does your magic
always feel like that?"
Tris crouches to peer at one of the stacks. She scans the titles and
authors, twice, then looks back up at Dillon. "These are alphabetical,"
she tells him so flatly that it's almost disbelieving.
"You managed to make repaired books fall to the floor
alphabetically." Because why not add one more impossibility?
"Thank you, Dillon."
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"That, I can do." Tris pulls one braid free from the net holding most of her hair back, and she unravels it in swift, practiced movements. A wind picks up, and she nudges it into circling the library, stirring up all of the tiny scraps of paper.
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Pages start to flutter in the gusts of ash, and the first book falls out of the wind with a soft thunk. And then a second, directly on top of the first. They keep coming, scattered at first and then in a rush, like raindrops as a storm sweeps in.
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It catches her off-guard, because Tris hadn't expected Dillon's power to be directed at anything besides the books. Even just the edge of it has an effect. Dillon could do a lot more if he were trying.
She laughs at the books falling to the floor, even if she knows it will take her weeks to get everything shelved again, then asks, "Does your magic always feel like that?"
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"It does when I'm being nice?" he offers, slightly sheepish.
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Tris crouches to peer at one of the stacks. She scans the titles and authors, twice, then looks back up at Dillon. "These are alphabetical," she tells him so flatly that it's almost disbelieving.
"You managed to make repaired books fall to the floor alphabetically." Because why not add one more impossibility? "Thank you, Dillon."
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And that's what the power wants to do.
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Tris smiles at him, but it fades after a moment.
"That takes care of the damage that can be fixed." She casts a glance around looking for the card catalog, though it's a little halfhearted.
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"The card catalog. I'll need it to reshelve all of these." But she doesn't actually move to get it.
"I'm not the only person who works in the library. He was in here when it burned."