Re: log; misha and adrian
This magic wasn't like anything Adrian had experienced before. Magic at school had been orderly and regimented. Spells were for specific purposes, words spoken in just the right way at just the right time. Words were used to control the power of magic. The obscurus and dark things like it, they represented the threat of uncontrolled magic. Magic without limits was dangerous. It shouldn't even exist, really.
This magic, which surrounded both of them, coating Misha in a blanket of white-gold light, was far outside his understanding. It didn't frighten him, but tried to wrap his mind around it. Then he relaxed, letting his curiosity go slack. It was too gentle to worry over. The obscurus was a heavy weight. When it manifested, even non-magical people in its aura felt a wrongness, the unsettling, nauseating reek of dark magic. The power that radiated from Misha was the inverse. It just felt right. It felt like everything would be okay.
The space glowed, and Adrian wondered if there was something like this before you were born, or maybe after you died, despite not much believing in heaven, or life at conception, for that matter. Misha was so beautiful and full of warm light that he should have been hard to look at, but he wasn't. Adrian could look right back at him, and he didn't feel anything.
Was it happening now? Had it already happened?
He stayed still and strangely relaxed, and he felt nothing at all. Whatever Misha was doing, smoothing out, perhaps without even knowing it, the harsh and definite separation between memory and memory, idea and idea, between behaviors permitted and behaviors forbidden, between open hate and sex and ironclad control, between forgetting and remembering, Adrian felt nothing. Not a twitch. Not even nervous.
When Misha opened his eyes, he seemed very far away, and Adrian first felt the instinct to reach out and touch him, to touch his shoulder again, just to see if he could.
"I feel fine." Was that underwhelming? First and foremost, he was just surprised not to feel something horrible creeping up inside him. He blinked, looked around to be sure there was no more swirling light, not another thing coming. No, it was just the two of them.
He tried examining himself, picking across his internal landscape, looking for unexpected thoughts or violent urges. He took a deep breath in the nowhere place.
But it was different. He hadn't felt it change, but something was different. He couldn't explain it, any more than he could explain the sensation of being inside his own body. "I feel like I could go anywhere," he said, slowly. "Like there isn't a limit, anymore. Inside me. Like I could feel...anything."
It crested over him slowly, like a collar coming gently loose, like becoming conscious of his own breath, of his own bloodflow, a rush of unobstructed feeling, like a flood, pulsing out.
"It's good," he said. Feeling how good was almost too much. The sensation caught in his throat, unbound and open. "I...Yes. It's good."