rhy maresh (goldenhelm) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2018-06-14 19:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, rhy maresh |
WHO: Rhy Maresh
WHAT: Finally connecting to his magic, thanks to some new advice! Thanks Bonnie :)
WHEN: Today, Thursday evening
WHERE: Maresh Palace
WARNINGS: Mentions of past kidnapping, blood spells
NOTES: Complete narrative
It had been almost a month since Rhy had practiced his magic. Almost a month since Alucard had caught him at it, and the emotional backlash of that had returned to him every time he looked at the element box, still sitting on the same shelf where Alucard had put it. So each time, he looked away again, did not touch it, and found something else to distract himself. He waited a few days and looked at it again, waiting for the day when he could look at it and feel calmer, more inspired, ready to start over.
It would have taken longer than a month. But, rather fortuitously, he had found someone to talk to about it, someone who had given him entirely different advice. Advice he thought might actually help, which had renewed his sense of hope. And so, a few days later, he made his way back to the sitting room where the box had been left, drew in a deep breath, and looked at it.
The memory of the emotions were still there, but he was not reliving them. He let out the breath, locked the door behind him, and reached for the box. He set it on the table, drew the binding circle around it, and then lifted the box’s lid.
He went for the fire this time; he hadn’t touched fire since he had nearly burned his room down, except for Kell’s intervention. But his hands were steady as he lit the small pool of oil. He set the lighting device aside, and extended one hand toward the small flame.
You are not my friend. You are my subject. He kept the thought firmly in his mind as he reached for the steady certainty that he felt whenever he wanted to project the impression of being royal. And then he thought about his country, his people, his brother, his lover, everyone who depended on him for their livelihood, their continued peace, without war and destruction. His heart ached with how much he loved them, every one of them; even those who doubted him, who judged him, who committed crimes against him. He loved them, too, even as he wanted to see them face justice for their actions.
His magic, he reflected, as his confidence began to waver along with the flame growing smaller, was not a criminal, but it was not unlike those who might resist his charms, who might not like his choices, who might need something else from him that was harder to give.
He thought about being kidnapped by the Shadows when he was thirteen. How impossible it had been to resent them, how easy it had been to forgive them. He thought about waking up in the cell where they were holding him to find Kell’s blood all over him and how hard it had been to forgive himself for making his brother bleed. His eyes stung.
“I don’t know how to do right by you,” he murmured to the flame, trying to hold all of that in his heart: the empathy with his kidnappers, the rightness he’d felt when he’d chosen to forgive them, the pain he’d felt for being the cause of his brother’s blood. “But I want to. Please show me how.”
The flame flickered, almost out, burned down to just a small haze of fire in the very bottom of the well. Rhy let out a breath, and stretched his fingers a little closer to the flame. “I forgive you."
And then, for the very first time, he felt the magic reaching back.