Multi-Fandom One Shots

The Warlock's Apprentice (Florence Zimmerman)

You remembered the first time you saw her. She'd been aghast, but not at you. She'd taken one look at you, then spun to face your new master so fast, her purple clothing caught the air and spun dramatically. Then she'd thrown an insult at him, calling your new teacher an infant with a head like a watermelon, though she said it much more creatively.

Jonathan told you to ignore her, though you weren't sure you could, then threw out his own rude comment. You wondered if that was their love language.

Her swiftly extended hand startled you. "My name is Florence Zimmerman. How'd you do?" The woman was hardly intimidating, though she was tall. Her hair was almost entirely grey, pulled up at the back of her head into a lovely bun. She was dressed entirely in purple, a color which suited her eyes.

You took her hand, shaking it one firm time, then stammered out your own introduction.

Florence smiled. "Delighted."

You smiled nervously then flushed.

Jonathan called you up after him. "And you, Florence, stop charming my apprentice and use your only talent. I'm hungry."

You followed your master up the steps of his home, eyeing the woman horrifiedly. With all the huff over equal rights, you were surprised this woman took that. Only, she didn't.

"You're always hungry, you floating bottomless, stomach." She spun and walked away.

Jonathan led you down his upstairs hall and showed you a small, but acceptable room. "It's not much, but you can do anything you want with it."

Your legs felt like steel until your knee gave and you stepped into it. You gaped at what felt like a mansion to you. "It's wonderful," you breathed out. You looked at him over your shoulder. "Thank you."

The man puffed out his chest at the gratitude, but he cast a disdainful look out at the room. He didn't see what was so wonderful about it it, but he was glad you enjoyed it.

You stepped further in, setting your bag on the bed. "How often will I be in here?" you asked, expecting Jonathan to want his privacy.

"You only have to sleep in here if that's what you want." The man was both relieved you weren't so taken with the room that you expected to live out of it and worried you thought he never wanted to see his apprentice. He suddenly doubted if he should even be in the room, frightened you'd make a more extreme misunderstanding. "You can just come down you're ready. Food should be done by then." He turned tail and ran, the coward.

You knew he wasn't a coward, just unsure. Your last master had pulled you from the streets and took you in. You'd had the best foods, clothes, any commodity you had a need for. For a prince. For multiple costs, actually. You shuddered at the memories and looked around the room for any witnesses. Finding only a potted bunch of chrysanthemums, you grabbed the rim and spun the pot around. You dusted your hands down your trousers then stepped to the bed. You unlatched your luggage and pulled out your few clothes and limited books and crystals, ans a shirt much too large for you. You put the shirt beneath the plush pillows decorating the mattress. You hung up your only dress, and two pairs of pants and your only shirt besides the one on your back. Your few precious possessions went in the drawers of your nightstand. Your bag was folded and joined the knickknacks. You shut the door delicately and circled the room. The familiar action caused your heart to leap into your throat. Taking a deep breath to backtrack from your trigger, you unwound your scarf, a declaration to your last master's wealth and one of the only things you were allowed to or even wanted to take from your past life, and hung it up. You removed your coat next, imagining doing away with these did away with the feelings threatening to overwhelm you. You let out the negativity with your sigh and removed your shoes. They went just under your bed and you poked your head out of your bedroom door.