The sounds of clinking, clanking glass, a bubbling cauldron, soft socked feet shuffling across the floor, and grumbles from the deep in thought sorcerer filled the small room. The steam rolled up the open drapes, fogging the windows as Marcius paused long enough to scan over the mess he’d made. Forgetting the new possibilities he was pondering with the ultimate potions he began concocting, he started to clear away the commotion of herbs, vials and instruments. With an arm full of items, he paused to glance around once again.
“Percy? Where the hell are you?!”
As he called out, he set everything down on the clean space he’d just cleared out. His perfectly sculpted eyebrows pushed together as he waited for a response. At the lack of one, he sighed and set off to find his familiar. The halls were lined with potted plants in various states of bloom, books filled with history and incantations. Marcius hesitated to eye a plant that looked a little tired, wilted, and yellow.
“You and I, both,” he muttered, his eyes squinting at the plant, it perking up as the green returned to it’s leaves. “Good, now, keep it that way, hm?”
“Oh! Marcius! Have you figured out the potion to stop it from being so humid in the marsh?”
“Percy- “
“That wasn’t what you were working on, but I still think you should. It’s far too humid out here. If you hadn’t cast that itching spell over the town’s council members, we could still be there. I just don’t think I can handle this humidity much longer!”
“Percy- “
“What is it?”
“Aren’t you my familiar?”
“Well yes,” The young man stood with his arms crossed, confusion screwing up his brow. “And what of it?”
“You do nothing but scold, complain and doodle all day.”
“I do much more than that!”
“Insolence?”
“What a funny word, when you’re the sorcerer of mischief, at least that’s what they call you.”
“They know nothing, but I know that you don’t behave as a familiar should.”
“And how is that”
“For one, aren’t you supposed to be a raven? Instead you’re almost always in your human form.”
“You talk all day and I’m to just sit around and squawk back at you?”
“No, no-“
“And you expect me to help around the house, right?”
“Yes, but-“
“Well I can’t do that if my hands are nonexistent, can I?”
“No, but you don’t do any of that anyway!”
“The gods will strike you down, Marcius!”
“For putting up with your nonsense, of course, Percy!”
“Nonsense?!”
“Yes, look at the state of this place!”
“I think it happens to look maintained!”
Marcius scoffed, holding his hands out and sweeping his arms in the air, pointing out the mess that spilled from the hallway into the den. Percy frowned and glanced around, his mouth opening and closing as he begged his brain to come up with a rebuttal. He folded his arms across his chest, and Marcius did the same.
Standing off, sorcerer versus familiar, a battle of wills, opinion against opinion. Percy raised his eyebrows, waiting for Marcius to back down. Marcius tilted his head in refusal. Chests puffed out against crossed arms, eyes locked in. Marcius poised himself, standing straight as he remembered he was the sorcerer, Percy his familiar. As the realization washed over his confident face, Percy frowned in response. Marcius simply waved his hand and thought of the beautiful raven that was Percy in his animal form. Percy gasped.
“You wouldn’t-“
Marcius angled his head once again, waving his hand in the same manner.