The Storm

For @DaHob’s prompt to my December Bingo Card – it fills the “Storm” square.

Addergoole has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ; the original series lives here.

Amaya has shown up before in Don’t Cry, Baby.


“The storm is at your command. What do you do with it?”

Amaya turned to look at Professor Valerian. Stare, really.

“I make it rain, Professor.”

“No. You made it rain when you were a child. When you were beginning to be a student, you made it rain indoors. Now, Amaya -“

“It’s a year later?”

“And what have you learned in that year?”

Amaya stretched. “To be careful.” She wiggled her fingers. “To be very careful with things more fragile than I and with things more powerful than I. I’ve learned Words.” She let her favorite ones roll off her tongue. Yaku. Kaana. And of course Tempero.” Water, Air, and Control. “I can push the weather with those.”

“You can. And you’ve been studying meteorology under myself, Professor Pelletier, and Professor Kairos.” The professor was watching Amaya, her expression patient. Amaya dug deeper.

“I have.” She nodded slowly. “Which means that I can use Idu-” She didn’t like that word, the one that meant Know, as much as the others “-to understand the storm. I mean, if there was real weather here.”

“I did tell you to bring a jacket.” Professor Valerian was, for the first time, wearing a coat herself – it was brown, with a thick velvety texture to it.

“You did.” Amaya slipped into hers. She’d had to buy it from the Store; the Village, despite being in South Dakota, rarely got cold enough to justify such a thing, and Amaya had come from a home far more southern than this. It was sleek and blue, the color of rain on the water. “And I did.”

She knew better than to ask too many questions. Professor Valerian liked certain questions – but only certain ones.

“Good. Let’s go, then.” The professor began walking, and Amaya followed.

It wasn’t long before the Professor was murmuring something to thin air – not a Working, Amaya didn’t think, but something like an introduction – and they were stepping out of the semi-controlled environment of the Village.

And into weather. It tickled at Amaya’s skin and brushed at her lungs, teased her and taunted her and grabbed at her fingers. There were clouds in the sky and wind in the air; there was a thunderstorm waiting to happen, just on the edge of the horizon.

“So.” Professor Valerian was smiling. Somewhere, her hair had come undone, and it flickered out in wild curls. “The storm is at your command. What do you do with it?”

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