James Hutchins (0roborus) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2021-12-09 12:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | james hutchins, npc, shimmer |
What *Not* To Do With Magic
Who: Shimmer, James, NPC Sam
What: Magical PSA Video (Beginning of ‘The Swap’ Plot)
When: Present, Daytime (2-3 Days Before Full Moon)
Where: Curiosities, Las Vegas
Warnings: Language
In the wake of secretive revelations having been spilled, Shimmer's usual breezy manner had faltered a little. It would take something significant to really put the spring back in her step, for the consequences of that were lasting for a soul who, by and large, tried to think the best of others.
The possibility of getting back to something like her old self? That definitely counted as significant. Significant enough for the nymph to practically hum with excitement, as she began to go to and fro in a search for ingredients.
James was living up to his promise. Or trying to, at least: He was going to try and help Shimmer realign whatever was internally screwing up her energy management. Some sort of magical intervention had been responsible for it and, with hope, magical intervention might just be the trick to setting it right.
"...I mean, if this works out, I could go hang out with some giant Sloars! Or travel through the ribbon-bands of the Nebulous Ones, again! A-a-and see about-"
Not quite able to contain her bubbling excitement, Shimmer self-consciously apologised with a, "Sorry, I dunked myself in a chocolate milkshake on the way over. Wanted to be all energised and focused-like!"
Leaning over the upstairs table in Curiosities, James was her opposite. The warlock appeared calm and quiet, except for the eyebrows creeping towards his hairline as Shimmer’s enthusiasm flooded every nook and cranny of the occult shop. The more of James’s time he spent working on his craft inside those four walls, the more connected he felt to the physical space. He sensed it thrumming to life as Shimmer gushed. Last year, she told James that she wasn’t afraid of magic because she was magic. As his brown eyes tracked her flurry of activity, he realized he needed to carefully ground this spell or Shimmer’s magic might blow a hole through the roof.
Should have stuck to water, he thought, but, “Mission accomplished,” he said instead. James took a deep breath. He flipped a page in his journal, picked up a pen, and started to draw a sigil. “Do you have a list of what you need or are you improvising?” Objects clunked and rattled as they were picked up, examined, and set aside. He tried not to break a sweat.
He hadn’t come empty handed. A chalice of water sat at the center of the table. There were items to represent energies in balance to Shimmer’s: Bowls of seeds and dirt, feathers, burning herbs, seaweed, the red ritual powder he’d blown in her face on their first meeting. The newest piece was a large talisman. It was backed with a magnetic material. The resin on its top held pieces of rainbow quartz, amethyst, lapis lazuli and metal shavings in suspension. It was wrapped in a copper coil.
Earlier in the day, Sam insisted on charging the talisman with a set of singing bowls while James listened, fingers digging into his temple, wondering how he was descended from a man who owned a tunic.
“I thiiiiink… Yeah, it - oh! Wait, wait, wait… OK, yeah, that looks about right.”
Shimmer had flapped her arms in alarm like an infant penguin trying to fly, before rummaging through pockets which, technically, were only an emulation of clothing. What she wore, at least today, was all a part of her ectoplasmic being. She was emptying out their contents on a nearby surface, then took what seemed to be an improvised pendant made of glass with stains of what looked like ink somehow threaded through the material. Using a nearby chair for height, she clambered up on it to dangle carefully from a lighting fixture.
“Not for the ceremony, it just looks cool,” she explained and sniggered with a quietly beaming little smile, then slid the chair back and… “Oh, lemme’ fix that,” she added, realising it had scraped through one of the signs arranged by her earlier in sand. “That’ll do,” nodded the ritual’s target, after readjusting the grains with a tactical application of foot-nudging. Then pointed a finger, almost gasped and spoke a short, if carefully worded, evocation to the heavens.
“I’m pretty sure that’s how it’s said, anyway. I haven’t spoken Greek in, like… A looooong time. Eh, it’s all about intent, anyway,” she excused with a wave of hands. “Mostly… Alright, so, I got to do anything special?”
A half-uttered, “Shi--!” had accompanied the movement of the nymph’s foot into the sand. Only James knew whether it was intended to be ‘Shimmer!’ or ‘Shit!’ before he cut it off. He rubbed his mouth and said, “No. I think, in this case, less is more.” In the minutes leading up to rituals, James didn’t like entertaining doubt, so he pointedly ignored the inner voice suggesting that it might be better if Shimmer was asleep, or submerged in a bath of soothing water.
He picked up one last object -- a mirror-- and handed it to her.
“This ritual is about a restoration of self,” James said. “Its purpose is to realign your energy and help you regulate it.” He tore the page out of his journal and set fire to one corner. When the paper curled and smoked, he set it on the smoldering herbs. If there was ever a fire in Curiosities, they were out of luck; not a single smoke detector had batteries. “Look in the mirror,” he murmured. He hung the talisman around her neck. “Des ton eafto sou opos isoun. See yourself as you were.”
James collected a palmful of the red dust and stood in front of her. “On the count of three, so it will be. One...” He focused himself on the desired outcome of the spell and rooted himself to the floor. “Two…
“Three.”
Don't think of Stay Puft... Don't think of Stay Puft... Don't think of Stay Puft...
Shimmer's mantra was, needless to say, beginning to have the opposite effect, but stopping just short of an imagined sailor's hat, she widened eyes and redoubled mental efforts.
Remember her old self! Remember how it felt like! Remember when... When... When she was... Could feel... Connected to everything...
Just when her face was the very image of spiritual enlightenment, a subtle glow radiating from within, there was a sudden ACHOO! And Shimmer sneezed at the very moment of the spell's crescendo.
Had the moment been captured in freeze-frame, the ill-timed sneeze would have lined up perfectly with the instant James’s mouth opened to blow the palmful of dust in Shimmer’s direction. Instead of inhaling acrid, smoky air, he sucked in a cloud of red particulates and Shimmer’s spittle as she sneezed it into his face. The talisman smacked into the mirror, which unleashed a dazzling flash of colorful light in the loft. The powder intended to illuminate Shimmer's true self cascaded onto the spellcaster's face, hair, and clothes.
James coughed into his sleeve. When his lungs stopped heaving, he wiped his eyes in the neck of his shirt. Fuuuuck, that burned. “Gesundheit.”
At first, nothing happened.
Then there was a clamor on the first floor as a man leapt from his seat. A row of candles and statuary was knocked off a table display as he turned this way, then that. Sam’s voice bellowed from below.
“Whatever you two just did…? Undo it. I’ve grown a goddamn tail!”