[Gate University] "Blood and Magic"
Mon, Sep. 17th, 2012 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judicious_imitationStory: Gate University
Title: Blood and Magic
Rating: PG
Word Count: 759
Notes: This takes place during Miracle's Fundraiser.
Summary: Mickey made promises.
Mickey is a member of the coven, and he lives in the house, but he does most of his magic outside it. The flow of nature into magic is only unpredictable if you don’t pay close attention, and he does. He’s also a lot less likely to be interrupted outside the coven house, where brothers are up at all hours and sisters are liable to wander through.
He sits outside under the half moon, his legs crossed and a cherry plank before him with the luck amulet he bought from the rummage sale. A little foolish, buying it where there will be records, but he’s made promises he has no way of keeping right now, and he needs to keep these promises. It’s not as though he could go directly to the source. He can only hope no one has recorded the sales yet.
He picks up the amulet, fingering it, and closes his eyes. Abby is talented, probably moreso than he is if he’s honest. He needs that strength. He can feel the magic she imbued the amulet with pulsing through it. He made his own items for the rummage sale, all minor charms, none of which would sell for much and all of which wouldn’t sap his strength even if they were combined. He can’t afford that.
His eyes pop open, and he sets the amulet back down before rummaging in the bag before him. Strictly speaking, some of the items in his bag aren’t supposed to be on campus. To avoid the campus cops, he’s in the grove at the edge of campus, where no campus cops who might know what he’s doing are likely to come, and townie cops don’t stray onto campus.
The ginger and black pepper are legal. So are the jet and wormwood. Less legal, unless it’s inside a vampire, is the vampire blood, and he haggled for the banshee hair that he’s not supposed to have. One passed midterm got him the five strands, tucked inside a crystal vial. For other reasons, the absinthe isn’t entirely allowed, either.
He uses tinder from his bag, pine shavings and slivered wormwood, to build a mound for the fire over the piece of jet. Before it’s lit, he winds the strands of hair around the amulet and cuts the tip of his thumb to bind them on with blood. He can feel the energy crackling around him at that.
He’s opened a dark door, invoking blood magic, but he has to do it. He’s made promises.
He sets five peppercorns at measured distances in a circle around where his fire will be and takes out the ginger. For just a moment, he closes his eyes. He sort of likes Abby, but she’s strong without being too strong; she won’t feel him do it, especially not at this hour. It will hurt her when she realizes, but it means his promises will be kept.
He lights the pine shavings with a Zippo.
When one of the slivers of wormwood catches, the flame turns green. Soon the whole of the small fire is green, and he shuts down emotions. He can’t have them involved in this kind of magic. He starts to chant the spell he found, sprinkling on the shreds of ginger before unstoppering the vial of vampire blood. After exactly three seconds, he adds the amulet to the fire and drips on the blood.
For one glorious second, he can feel it, the rush of power and strength, and then it’s gone, receding like a tide. He grasps at it, pulling with his own magic, but he can’t get it back.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “No, fuck, no.”
He feels more than hears the swirl of leaves and wind behind him, and the fire goes out. For one horrified second, he’s sure it’s that campus cop whose name he can never remember, the one who should be teaching with how strong she is.
His fire dies.
“That was a nice try,” a distorted voice says.
He doesn’t dare to look. If he looks, his eyes will burn out.
“Truly unfortunate that you were caught. I would have liked for you to keep your promises.”
There’s a step, and Mickey squeezes his eyes shut, his breath catching. He still has time, but the people he’s made these promises to regard ‘time’ as flexible to the point of almost meaninglessness. They might be called due early…
Before the next step, there’s another rush of wind, and Mickey exhales.
He opens the absinthe and takes a long drink.
Title: Blood and Magic
Rating: PG
Word Count: 759
Notes: This takes place during Miracle's Fundraiser.
Summary: Mickey made promises.
Mickey is a member of the coven, and he lives in the house, but he does most of his magic outside it. The flow of nature into magic is only unpredictable if you don’t pay close attention, and he does. He’s also a lot less likely to be interrupted outside the coven house, where brothers are up at all hours and sisters are liable to wander through.
He sits outside under the half moon, his legs crossed and a cherry plank before him with the luck amulet he bought from the rummage sale. A little foolish, buying it where there will be records, but he’s made promises he has no way of keeping right now, and he needs to keep these promises. It’s not as though he could go directly to the source. He can only hope no one has recorded the sales yet.
He picks up the amulet, fingering it, and closes his eyes. Abby is talented, probably moreso than he is if he’s honest. He needs that strength. He can feel the magic she imbued the amulet with pulsing through it. He made his own items for the rummage sale, all minor charms, none of which would sell for much and all of which wouldn’t sap his strength even if they were combined. He can’t afford that.
His eyes pop open, and he sets the amulet back down before rummaging in the bag before him. Strictly speaking, some of the items in his bag aren’t supposed to be on campus. To avoid the campus cops, he’s in the grove at the edge of campus, where no campus cops who might know what he’s doing are likely to come, and townie cops don’t stray onto campus.
The ginger and black pepper are legal. So are the jet and wormwood. Less legal, unless it’s inside a vampire, is the vampire blood, and he haggled for the banshee hair that he’s not supposed to have. One passed midterm got him the five strands, tucked inside a crystal vial. For other reasons, the absinthe isn’t entirely allowed, either.
He uses tinder from his bag, pine shavings and slivered wormwood, to build a mound for the fire over the piece of jet. Before it’s lit, he winds the strands of hair around the amulet and cuts the tip of his thumb to bind them on with blood. He can feel the energy crackling around him at that.
He’s opened a dark door, invoking blood magic, but he has to do it. He’s made promises.
He sets five peppercorns at measured distances in a circle around where his fire will be and takes out the ginger. For just a moment, he closes his eyes. He sort of likes Abby, but she’s strong without being too strong; she won’t feel him do it, especially not at this hour. It will hurt her when she realizes, but it means his promises will be kept.
He lights the pine shavings with a Zippo.
When one of the slivers of wormwood catches, the flame turns green. Soon the whole of the small fire is green, and he shuts down emotions. He can’t have them involved in this kind of magic. He starts to chant the spell he found, sprinkling on the shreds of ginger before unstoppering the vial of vampire blood. After exactly three seconds, he adds the amulet to the fire and drips on the blood.
For one glorious second, he can feel it, the rush of power and strength, and then it’s gone, receding like a tide. He grasps at it, pulling with his own magic, but he can’t get it back.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “No, fuck, no.”
He feels more than hears the swirl of leaves and wind behind him, and the fire goes out. For one horrified second, he’s sure it’s that campus cop whose name he can never remember, the one who should be teaching with how strong she is.
His fire dies.
“That was a nice try,” a distorted voice says.
He doesn’t dare to look. If he looks, his eyes will burn out.
“Truly unfortunate that you were caught. I would have liked for you to keep your promises.”
There’s a step, and Mickey squeezes his eyes shut, his breath catching. He still has time, but the people he’s made these promises to regard ‘time’ as flexible to the point of almost meaninglessness. They might be called due early…
Before the next step, there’s another rush of wind, and Mickey exhales.
He opens the absinthe and takes a long drink.
