Word: Plication

plication

[plahy-key-shuhn, pli-] / plaɪˈkeɪ ʃən, plɪ- /

Also plicature

noun

1. the act or procedure of folding.

2. the state or quality of being folded; a fold.

3. Surgery.

   1. the folding in and suturing of tucks, so as to tighten weakened or stretched tissue.

   2. the folding of an organ, as a section of the intestine, and the attaching of it to another organ or tissue.

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                Leslie was folding small paper stars. She said it was for some school event for her niece and nephew. Chris wondered why she was doing that instead of their parents, but he was grateful. It gave him a rare opportunity.

                He was currently looking at his phone. More specifically, the news. The city had a super hero, and he was currently comparing the costumed heroine with his girlfriend. And the more he looked at the two of them, the more sure he was. Now he just needed some kind of proof. And those small paper stars gave him the perfect opportunity to test his idea.

                “Hey, do you need any more paper?” He asked.

                Leslie did not answer right away. She was lost in the action of folding. “Hm?”

                He chuckled at the lackluster response. Instead of asking again, he acted. He slipped an extra something into a pack of origami paper and handed the thin papers to her.

                “Thanks.” She said, more out of habit than actually acknowledging his action.

                “No problem. If you need anything else, let me know.”

                She did not say anything. Her fingers simply kept going. More and more of the tiny paper ornaments covered the table as she worked. And then she reached his little surprise. Instead of the quiet rustle of paper being folded, the room was filled with the screech of metal being bent. Leslie stopped and actually looked at what she was doing. At the sheet of metal she had casually bent without even noticing. And then at the wide grin and sparkling eyes of her boyfriend.

                “I knew it!” Chris said triumphantly.

                “I…I don’t know what you think you’re thinking, but whatever it is, it’s wrong.” Leslie said quickly.

                Chris showed her the picture on his phone. “I don’t think I am. I think this is you. Am I right? I bet I’m right. I’m right, aren’t I.”

                “Uh…No. No you are not.” Her face was getting slightly flustered. He knew Leslie could tell a lie, but not if she was put on the spot so suddenly. She needed to think about her lies before she told them.

                “Hah! I knew it!”

                “Chris…Don’t say it. Don’t say what you’re about to.”

                “I’m dating a genuine super heroine! This is awesome!”

                Leslie groaned.

                “Oh, don’t worry, Les. I’m not dumb enough to go talking to anyone.” Chris said. “If I even hinted at knowing your secret identity, it’d put a massive target on my back. That’s something I can live without. So yeah, I’m not even going to even suggest that I know who’s behind the mask.”

                “You’d better not.” She said heavily. “What gave it away?”

                “Several things, most of which only I would know. First of all, your alter ego’s figure is identical to yours. And you do have a rather…distinct figure.” He said and moved his hands in a classic hourglass gesture.

                “I really hope my hips weren’t what gave me away.” She replied, giving him a dull expression.

                “No. If it was just that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Remember last week when you saved that cruise ship?”

                Leslie looked like she wanted to deny her involvement, but she sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

                “Well, when you were talking to the reporters, the way you answered the questions got my attention. It both looked and sounded like how you act when you’re forced to do something when you’re in a hurry. Which, considering that whole situation occurred about half an hour before your sister’s birthday party, was understandable.”

                Leslie did not say anything. A small smile came briefly to her face. “So it was something small that only you would know?”

                “Pretty much yeah.”

                “Well, I suppose if you were going to find out, that’s a good way for it to happen.” She took a deep breath. “So, what happens now?”

                “Well, I have about a hundred questions for you about your various deeds. And a bunch of ideas on how things will have to change.”

                She crossed her arms and gave him an amused smirk. “Oh really? And what kind of things are those?”

                “Well, for one thing, I’m definitely not opening any more pickle jars, miss ‘I can throw a school bus.’”

                Chris watched his super girlfriend burst into laughter. Yes, knowing her secret was going to make life a lot more interesting in all the best ways.  

Word: Impervious

impervious

[im-pur-vee-uhs] / ɪmˈpɜr vi əs /

adjective

1. not permitting penetration or passage; impenetrable.

   The coat is impervious to rain.

2. incapable of being injured or impaired.

   impervious to wear and tear.

3. incapable of being influenced, persuaded, or affected.

   impervious to reason; impervious to another's suffering.

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                The wall was a towering structure. Thirty feet tall and half as thick, and perfectly solid. No bricks, no mortar. The wall looked like it had been grown out of the ground instead of built. It was thanks to the many earth mages that had been employed in making the stones merge together around the thick metal core. It was also impressively sized in circumference. It had to enclose an area of land five miles across, well beyond what was needed for the town it enclosed. To give the place room to grow into a proper city was the reason given.

                It looked strong enough to last a thousand years, even without Miles doing anything to it. The problem was that the man in charge of the city wanted it to last longer than the sun. Miles was not sure he could do that.

                “Are you really sure you want me to do this? There are lots of better enchanters out there.” He asked.

                “And none of them are here. You are.” The city lord, Leon Hempwood, said. He was a towering man that looked almost as solid as the wall itself. “But even if they were, I would still put my hopes in you, Miles. I’ve seen your work. Your method is unique and has potential beyond anything I’ve ever seen. That’s why I want you to be the one to make this wall last longer than anyone living in its shadow.”

                The young enchanter was not sure if his city lord was serious or not. But he also knew better than to question the words of a man who could probably kill him by breathing too hard. Miles looked at the words he had written on the wall. The outline of his method of enchanting. Literary Enchanter was an odd class, but he thought it was decent.

                “But shouldn’t I have more time to practice? I mean, I’ve only ever done this with paper. I barely even know how to hold the chisel.”

                “You’ve been practicing stone masonry for two months. I’d say your stonework skill is at least Journeyman rank. That’s more than enough. Besides, we’ve set out so many skill boosters, mana recovery arrays and focus enhancers that even an apprentice could do the job as well as a master.” Leon said.

He waved his arm around. Just as he said, the area was littered with magical boosters that would likely give him the skills of a grandmaster Enchanter and Stonemason. If only for a few hours. And that was even before the additional materials that would be used the seal his work permanently.

“But I—“Miles tried to protest.

“No buts.” Leon said. “You can do this. Everyone that worked on this project believes it. Everyone here knows it. Now get up there and show the world what you can do.”

Miles swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked up at the words again.

This wall shall never fall.

No beast or man shall break it.

The stone shall be as a thing alive,

Any breaks that should be caused shall be healed, stronger than before.

Any that should break it should beware,

For the wall shall bring its wrath and vengeance upon those who do.

And then shall it be repaired, stronger than ever before.

Those who guard this wall shall share in its impervious might.

Those who are protected by it shall take comfort in its presence.

For this wall shall never fall.

Was it the best piece of writing out there? No. Absolutely not. Maybe if he was better at his job, Miles would have been able to make it better. Turn it into a real poem, or even a full story. But it was the best he could come up with after weeks of agonizing writing and re-writing. Maybe once he was more experienced, he could come back and make it better. But for now, he just had to do his job.

 He climbed up on the ladder, up to the first letter. Magical lights filled the area, and Miles felt his skills and magical power practically overflow. He knew exactly what to do. How to hold and use his tools to bring out the most in his work. How to fill each letter with his intent and mana to make the words real. He knew what was needed of him.

Miles set chisel to stone and got to work.

 

Word: Trice

trice 

[trahys] / traɪs /

noun

1. a very short time; an instant.

   in a trice.

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                Victor looked on in confusion as his opponent entered the arena. He barely heard the crowd’s reaction, but he knew they were mixed. Several people were excited to see him win. Others wanted his opponent to be victorious. Others had several more colorful calls about the person.

                That was because his opponent today was something that was almost never seen in the arena. A woman. She was quite the beauty, and seemed to have a fine figure, which was what got the men in the crowds so riled up. He heard several people calling for him to remove various articles of clothing from her during the battle. Victor pointedly ignored them. At the very least, her outfit was fully covering and seemed reasonably well suited to the battlefield. Not as good as armor, but better than nothing.

                Although she dressed decently, Victor still felt unsure of himself facing such a person. He was twice her size, wore good armor, and had a sword. She did not even have a weapon. Perhaps a martial artist? But they rarely did well in the arena. Well, he would find out soon.

                The two fighters got to their starting spots, around twenty strides away. Close enough to easily close, while being far enough that ranged fighters had a chance. Victor held his sword at the ready. The woman stood relaxed and without any hint of a fighting stance. Was she throwing the match? Maybe hoping to use her looks to sway him into giving up?

                The fight began at the signal from the noble’s box. Victor blinked. When he opened his eyes, she was there. Right in front of him. How had she closed the distance so quickly? He barely had the time to form the thought when her arm blurred. In an instant, he felt dozens of impacts striking his chest all at once. And these were not light jabs. Each one felt like the blow of a war hammer.

                 His armor was practically caved in as his body was launched back from the force of her attacks. Before he even hit the ground, she vanished and reappeared behind him. He had no way of defending from the onslaught that struck him. The attacks came all in a single instant and struck harder than they had any right to. His body buckled and changed direction from the power of her attacks.

                He could practically feel his bones bending in ways they should not at the heavy blows and sudden change. He had no idea what was happening to his organs, but whatever it was could not be good. And that was on top of his badly damaged armor pressing painfully into his chest, right on top of where she had hit him.

                This time the woman let him hit the ground, knocking out what little air was left in his lungs. He lay there, groaning in pain. Then he felt her hand close against his ankle. Her grip was tighter than a vice, and he felt the small bones start to bend under the force of her grip. Then she threw him.

                Victor may as well have been hollow. He tumbled and flipped through the air. A small part of him wondered if he was going to hit the far wall of the arena. That part was silenced when she appeared in front of him. This time, she delivered only a single punch. A punch that might as well have come from a giant.

                This time he did slam into the wall of the arena. A wall that would have taken even a fast runner a full minute to reach, he did in an instant. And he was buried in the hard stone, unable to move. And that was even had his body been able to do anything other than feel pain.

                His vision started to go dark. The last thing he saw was the woman waving to the crowd as she celebrated a victory that took less than ten seconds. His mind could only wonder how she had done it as his consciousness finally left him.