Saving the school would have been easier as a cafeteria worker

Sorry! I swear I'm usually better than doing two delays in a month... but I had issues Saturday that, while not a huge deal, took a while to resolve and consumed my writing time. I'm going to buckle down this week and try to get two chapters written so I have a buffer going forward... along with finally getting one of my fanfics moving again. The fanfic will be whichever I find easier to write.

And here's the copy-paste stuff to get past the word limit. I really wish RR had a better way of doing this.

To Cal's knowledge, there were two types of spirits.

Naturals were those who could come to life anywhere the magic was dense enough. After the Fall, they ceased to be born. For those existing, the concentration of magic in the world was thrown into chaos, and many found themselves tied to lands unable to sustain them. They either slowly withered away or were killed by ambitious parties.

The other grouping was created by the gods and said to be more powerful than their counterparts. By all accounts, they had gone down with their creators.

Cal couldn't peg which category this one fell under.

"Have some class; we've smited people for asking such intrusive questions."

"Too bad you already blew your best shot at that."

A few strands of hair drifted to the floor, having been cut by a blade of wind. Cal hadn't moved, knowing they'd not harm him.

The Spirit's voice followed.

"Your lack of self-preservation is truly astonishing."

Cal wasn't impressed by the childish display.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"What's astonishing is thinking that would intimidate me. We pretty much tore the building apart last time, and that was with you reinforcing it. We're fellow monsters; if we went at it for real, there's no telling what would be left standing. Unless you want to try that again, you can drop the theatrics."

The two parties stared at each other, unblinking.

"I did know him in ages past. Always a contentious one, he could never be satisfied."

"Weren't they all?" Cal didn't know much about the dead god, only that it was the youngest of them. "What caused them to go crazy on each other in the first place?"

The surroundings shuddered. It came off to him as more of an involuntary motion than the prelude to another attack.

"Shit. Too soon? Sorry."

He apologized, conscious that he may have overstepped. Perhaps time didn't heal all wounds.

"Has anyone ever told you, you're rude for a human." It responded; the atmosphere eased, but it sounded more tired than before.

"Plenty of times, usually not to my face. How about you?"

"Never," the word was emphasized with a loud crack whose source was not readily apparent. "To our face, that is."

"You're rude." Cal felt privileged to be able to provide a new experience to such an old existence.

"Delightful." The Spirit drolled. "We'll forward that to our complaint department."

"While you're at it, you should put up a suggestion box. I got some myself, let in some natural light, and chill with all the fog. Do that, and this place will be a lot more inviting."

The Spirit snapped its fingers, and the few torches that lit the area were snuffed out.

"Has it occurred to you that our intent is the opposite?"

"I try to see the best in people, or Spirits." The Spirit's cloudy eyes appeared in his thoughts "I understand if you have trouble with that."

"You're a thousand years too young to pass a lie by us." It ignored his joke. "Now, unless you want to help with the extra work you put on us. Leave. If you need to hide so badly, do it in the library. That place is off limits for recruiting."

"Really?" Cal perked up. "If you're nodding, I can't see anything because you took out the lights." The Spirit had already gone incorporeal; Cal was just messing with it.

Its response was a violent gale that swept him off his feet. He tumbled towards the entrance, stopping just short of it.