WHO: Adaine Abernant and Al Montague WHAT: Adaine teaches Al some Prestigitation, with a side of backstory. WHEN: July 16 WHERE: Mordred Manor WARNINGS: Spoilers through Fantasy High: Sophomore Year. CW for discussion of child abuse, parent death.
There was little that Adaine remembered from when she was briefly middle aged, but one thing that she did recall was that she apparently grew up to one day be a teacher. It made sense, of course; besides that she had a passion for knowledge, her adopted guardian in one world was involved in education through counseling and the person closest to that in Vallo had been her literal teacher. There was an influence there, on top of knowing what her own education had been in Elmville had been… unique. At least, she knew that now, having something to compare it to beyond Hudol College.
She had never imagined, though, that her first foray into teaching would be on the floor of the library in Mordred Manor, sitting cross legged with an open pizza box just out of reach, but that didn't make it any less fun of an experience as Adaine did her best to teach Al the finer parts of Prestidigitation.
Less fun, she thought, would probably be the questions she said she would all in return, but Adaine had a feeling that the questions would be good for her. There was much that she had tried her very best to not think about from life in Spyre while she had acclimated in Vallo, but Adaine could almost hear Jawbone's voice reminding her of just how not healthy that happened to be. Though overjoyed at Fabian's arrival, his appearance mixed with the pushing of the memories to the forefront of her mind thanks to a glacier of all things had been yet another reminder that she had barely processed what had happened in the Forest of the Nightmare King before she had traveled through worlds. Al's willingness and offer to listen was something she knew better than to pass up on.
For now, though, Adaine lifted her hands in front of her. "Prestidigitation," she was saying, "was one of the first spells I learned and it's still one of my favorites." Slowly, she moved her hands through the somatics required of the spell, all while speaking the variant of Draconian that made up of the verbal necessities. She felt the magic click together and smiled at Al as a brief shower of sparks erupted from her palm, all in varying shades of blue--her choice, of course.
Al was not built for Prestidigitation. At least, he didn't think he was. Magic was always big and flashy in his mind, something with heat—literally and figuratively—and anything with finesse fell by the wayside. He had managed, sure, long enough to graduate from Geliara. But schooling wasn't for him, he knew that now. Or he mostly knew that. He'd rather be sitting across from friends learning how to do a spell, then trapped in a classroom where the constraints of responsibility tightened metaphorically around this throat.
Was that dramatic? Absolutely. But Al, and respectively Pete, had grown up in a plant-slash-rare-books store, with little structure. It was only a matter of time before he got squrimy about it.
He watched Adaine produce the blue sparks—okay, that was rather neat, and checked off a box in his showy list—but he still had questions. And honestly, only a third of them were about Prestidigitation. The others were for Adaine, who seemed to be keeping things together, all things considered. His eyes narrowed, and he held out a hand, palm up.
"Prestidigitation is a spell I still don't understand the purpose of, but too many people say its useful," Al said. He was staring at his hand, willing, conjuring, pleading for something to start up, but his own verbal components sounded something between slight frustration and begging for his magic to do something.
"How long do you want to wait before I start my side of this hang out?" Which was Al speak for, you ready for my questions?
"It's no Fireball or Teleport," Adaine conceded, demonstrating once more with slow hand movements, "but it comes in handy when you need to wash dishes or heat up some coffee gone cold." Once more, a shower of sparks exploded. "Or if you just want to be a bit flashy."
At Al's question, though, she let her hands fall into her lap, fingers immediately moving to toy with the hem of her jean jacket. It was almost too warm for the jacket, but it made her feel comfortable--not armor, exactly, but it had definitely become something like a security blanket for her ever since it had come into her possession.
"I think now would be fine," she replied, smiling small as she leaned forward, elbows to her knees. "A question for every Prestidigitation attempt, how about that?"
"Now you're just showing off to show off," Al teased, when Adaine shot off the second round of sparks. But he nodded—more like softly grunted—in agreement. One question, one Prestidigitation attempt. Even if he didn't get any better at warming cold coffee or cleaning a shirt with a single spell, he at least got practice in, and wasn't that the whole point of getting better at magic?
He copied, poorly, Adaine's hand movements, repeated his own verbal component to the practitioner's brand of magic, and produced a measly, single spark. Barely anything to call it a spell. To be fair, he was only moderately trying. His hands began to move again, and Al looked like he was concentrating on getting it right again, but the words that came out of his mouth were more inquiring.
"Was it a lot of memories or just a few? Some people were getting whole future lifetimes they weren't used to, so maybe that is why you're more subdued," Al noted, but obviously all conjecture. If his mind wasn't working through a problem to solve, he felt a little useless. He'd make guesses until he came close.
"Or old stuff that you wanted to forget?"
Adaine grinned at the spark--a genuine, encouraging grin as she felt that one spark was far from measly when you were learning something new. She had no doubt in her mind that Al would master the cantrip in no time.
But, she owed an answer to the question now, so she turned her focus there. Even without the back and forth, Adaine knew she'd have been comfortable just having a conversation with Al. It helped somehow, though, to actually treat this as some sort of an exchange. Though her friends back home all knew of her situation with her family, it didn't make it any easier to talk about with them. Usually it was just something that existed, an ugly part of her past that she was trying to move beyond. Talking about it as she and Al cast spells, though, created an ease. It felt less like the full attention was on her.
"Old stuff," Adaine replied, her hands coming to fold gently in front of her. "Being in Vallo sort of distanced myself from it all, but I don't think I could ever truly forget it, even if I wanted to--even without glaciers reminding me. But, ah." Her hands slipped apart and her gaze dropped, her fingers starting to toy with the seams along the sole of one of her shoes.
"I had terrible parents," Adaine started, because it was as good as any place to start. "They let me know that I was a constant disappointment at any chance and they ignored my anxiety and mental health struggles because they couldn't be bothered." She cut herself off with a sigh, looking back up to Al with a humorless smile. "My most recent memories before I came home are better. I was adopted by my guardian--his name is Jawbone--and he truly cares about me. Everything leading up to that, though, was basically what everything I saw revolved around."
Adaine gestured toward Al's hands. "Let's see if we can get even more sparks before I go on."
Al's attention was far, far away from magic. His own hands dropped when Adaine's did, because he was focused on her words, what she was saying. A flash of guilt bubbled up inside him—having good parents seemed like a miracle, a rarity. That was probably why his were dead. No, missing. Al refused to believe they were truly gone, even if it had been six years since their car was found with neither of them inside.
He didn't want to say something cruel about Adaine's parents without really knowing them, but it seemed from the basic, surface-level explanation they were dicks. He tried to think of something balanced to say, but somehow Nadja's voice was screaming obscenities in his head and filling in the spots with some derogatory options.
Al cleared his throat. "I'm glad you had Jawbone, then. Someone who takes care of you and makes sure you are heard. There's nothing worse than purposeful ignorance when someone is in need." Port Howl tended to turn a blind eye to its younger population until it was too late. He thought of Rachel. He thought of Pete. He thought of himself.
With a quick dance of his fingertips, Al made another half-hearted effort at Prestidigitation. Same amount of sputtering sparks. "Okay, I tried, keep going."
Adaine gave Al a fond smile at his very weak attempt at the spell, amused and not about to press him on it. Instead, she let her thoughts go back to her parents--and the fond smile immediately dissipated as she pulled in a slow breath. "I always knew that they were bad parents, but I guess I didn't totally understand that they were also bad people until it became glaringly obvious."
It was something that she wished she'd have recognized sooner, in retrospect. Yes, their treatment of Adaine was cruel; they had neglected her in favor of her sister, shown clear embarrassment to be seen around her, ignored her struggles--but it had taken being truly loved by her friends and a very good support system combined with therapy to piece that together. Their turn into machinations and scheming, though, had been news to her. Still, it hadn't been hard to envision once the pieces fell into place.
"There is--there's a lot of history involved, but to make a long story short, my mother tried to bring back a previously sealed away being called the Nightmare King. I say tried, but she did eventually succeed, though my friends and I were able to reverse it. Figuring out what was going on with the Nightmare King stuff had been our sophomore year project in school, but, ah--" Adaine waved a hand dismissively. Projects at Aguefort Adventuring Academy were much more complicated than any she'd had to do at school in Vallo.
"While we were traveling around to figure that stuff out, my dad had me kidnapped." She scrunched up her nose as she recalled going with them to spare her friends. "I'm the elven oracle back home and the elves wanted me with them, so--" Again, she waved her hand, though perhaps it was less dismissive this time. It was hard to be dismissive about this. "My friends saved me, but until then I was kept in this orb that would continuously rotate so I couldn't trance--sleep, basically. My sister had been put in one as well, but for months. My father sanctioned it, more or less."
It wasn't a great note to end on, but Adaine paused there, straightening up a bit and releasing a long sigh. She looked meaningfully at Al's hands; she could use a moment before continuing and attempted sparks were as good a way to fill a pause as any.
Al didn't know what to say. Shock, mostly, that's what he would attribute it to. The Adaine he knew and the one who grew up outside of Vallo felt like two wildly different people, but nonetheless similar. He could start putting together the pieces of the puzzle of why she did this thing, or felt this way about another. It was like giving him a book to read, and learning the mysteries of the universe.
Except that mystery was Adaine, and the book was a random memory dump that she had lived through. Al was definitely, mentally, minimizing it.
His face scrunched up into something sour, confusion maybe. He was trying to sort out the business of mother summoning the Nightmare King and father having me kidnapped and parents being exceptionally terrible on so many levels that it felt unreal. He wanted to ask more questions, but he was observant enough to let Adaine have this pause.
This time when he waved his hands around, the sparks that came out were vibrantly red, and a little more on track for casting the spell. Al didn't want his magic to be emotionally driven, but he supposed it helped.
"But it's over now," Al said, as another shimmer of a spark floated off his fingertips."Or at least you're here. If your parents show up, people will be ready to make sure they don't do anything to you or the rest of Vallo."
"It's over back home, as well," Adaine said, nodding along with Al even as her eyes stayed where the sparks had dissipated. "My mother had her magic taken away, which was probably the worst fate to be given to her as a wizard. Her magic was more important than anything."
Her father, though, was more complicated. Adaine's gaze dropped back down to her hands, which she came to fold over her knees. "My father, though--he's gone. He was either going to put me under mind control or kill me so, ah." Her eyes glanced up once at Al, then dropped back to her hands. It was hard to put into words, what she'd had to do. On the one hand, it was hard to be remorseful. Her father was a cruel, evil person and she had done what she'd done in self defense. That didn't make the weight of it any less, though.
Given that this was the first time that Adaine had voiced any of this in Vallo outside of a office with someone licensed to listen, an anxious chill started to spread through her, starting from her chest. She suddenly wasn't so sure if this had been a good idea and it felt impossible to look up at Al to verify.
"Anyway," Adaine continued, voice quiet even as the word seemed to be pulled from her on a sigh. "That's more or less what I saw in the glacier."
The way Adaine fell quiet, and didn't quite elaborate, was more than enough of an explanation for Al. He was used to filling in the blanks when he was interrogating people, or searching for clues—lost ghost dogs, notwithstanding—but it was different when his friend was leaving something big, and terrible, and important out. Death, usually. David used to get really somber when Al and Pete were first asking about where their parents were, so Al eventually stopped asking.
Maybe with Adaine, he shouldn't. But he didn't want to pressure her either. So, he used the excuse he had come here for, just to give Adaine a moment to not get lost in a dark thought.
"I get why you didn't want to talk about it," Al said, with understanding. "Sometimes it's hard to give ourselves a break for things that feel terrible. Even if it's justified." This time when he moved his hands, he was slower, with a more concentrated effort. This time it wasn't sparks or fire, but a soft gust of wind. Much gentler than his usual aggressive magic. Not a flame in sight.
Al ducked his head low, trying to catch Adaine's eye, like a nonverbal way to say he was here, while he spoke, outloud, "How was that? Same thing, right?"
Al's words settled around Adaine. She could almost feel them, as though they were really resting on her shoulders as she considered. He wasn't wrong, of course. If anyone excelled at not giving themselves a break, it was Adaine. Even before Aguefort, she had never known how to be gracious with herself. Even now, after everything she'd been through and learned from, she had her days.
Despite the dip in her mood and the topic at hand, a smile began to play at the edges of her mouth when Adaine felt the gust of air and allowed Al to meet her gaze. She tipped her head back a bit, nodding her head. "See? I knew you'd get it in no time."
Adaine lifted her hands, once more going through the motions until a soft chime of music rang through the air. It really was a versatile spell--and it, as well as Al's reminder that he was there with her, helped center her once more.
"Thank you, by the way," Adaine said once the music had stopped and silence returned. "You know, for being willing to listen. I know this is probably--I know it's a lot."
Al beamed when Adaine complimented his Prestidigitation, and grew even brighter at the music—honestly, it was an easy way to appeal to him: photography and music. But all of that was shortlived, knowing that this was just a blanket to cover up the heavier conversation. Adaine's somberness hadn't exactly dissipated, and Al felt like he was doing a terrible job of being a friend in the situation, even with the thanks. Listening sometimes felt too passive of an action for him, who was often an independent go-getter.
"You don't have to apologize for having a life that isn't all sunny and roses, or whatever the expression is," Al said. "Everyone's life is a lot, that's not to say I'm trying to downplay your life or anything. Which it definitely sounds like I am, I just—ugh." Al rubbed at his face, tripping over his words. He was usually better at this but being woefully underprepared didn't help.
"All I'm saying is that I would be a hypocrite if I told you that your life was too much to listen to. Or maybe an asshole. Or probably both." He paused,and then reached a comforting hand out to rest on Adaine's forearm. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry that you had to deal with all of that, at home, and again here."
Though Adaine knew that there was truth to what Al was saying even without him having to say it, she found herself incredibly grateful to hear it. She was overdue a reminder, as well as the assurance that she hadn't just screwed up one of her friendships in Vallo. She wasn't about to go shouting her business from the rooftops of the city anytime soon, but it was a relief to know that there was at least one other person around that knew where her head was--at least until Fabian remembered more from home, if Vallo saw fit to gift him all of that.
"I understand what you're saying," she assured Al with a small smile, lifting a hand to squeeze his at her arm just once. "Honestly, I think that if ever there was a group of people who had lives that were a lot, it would be all of us Outlanders. Everyone has something."
Adaine released a long breath then, before letting out a soft, albeit weak, chuckle. "I promise not all my magic tutoring comes with such deep conversation. But," her face went a sliver more serious, "if you ever have anything you want to talk about, I'm sure there are other cantrips I can teach you sometime."
"Everyone has something," Al repeated, as if that would remind him just how much somethings there were in the world. Even his own experiences were different from Pete's. He wondered if they could ever be sorted through, or if it would be a constant revolving door of trauma. Nadja and filming her nocturnal activities did not count, even if people often remarked at how shocking she could be.
He laughed with Adaine, glad that she was making a joke, albeit slightly dark. But who didn't buffer their burdens with humor? Al was sure someone was saying it was some kind of emotional response; Al took it as a good sign that something between them, and something specifically with Adaine had been lifted.
"Even if they did, I wouldn't mind. You know, if it helps you. Don't feel like we've set a precedent here," Al said, gesturing between them. Al didn't want Adaine to feel pressured to 'entertain' him with intense conversation. Her company had always been enough. And maybe, he'd be able to put words to his own awful feelings that hovered like a distant rain cloud, constantly following him.