Who: Fever, Helena, and those threading with them What:January non-event things. When: All month. Where: Across the isle. Warning(s): To be noted in threads individually
Because that's just as important, if not more so. Korea taught him that safety can be relative. Sure, it's a relief that he never has to worry about some awful compulsion overriding his friend and hurting him or people he loves in the process, of course it is -- but Radar thinks of how much she's been hurting, carrying around that weight, and hears how she sings now that she's let it go. No wonder her mind sounds like a wide open field and a newborn horse ready to run.
"Oh, I'm so glad." He hugs her even tighter for a second before he finally pulls back, beaming. "Boy that must've been a pretty huge spell if your dad and Miss Mortanne got involved, huh? But if anybody was gonna be able to do it it'd be you three."
"It was, but fortunately, what I'm teaching you today is much, much smaller in scale. No extra help needed to carry this off."
The chicken is allowed to return to the earth, and Fever's now free hands go to her hips. She's not refusing further questions, but she realizes that if she goes too far down this road, they're going to lose track of her original reason for showing up in the first place.
"In fact, I think you'll take to it quite handily."
If Radar still had access to a drum set, that'd earn a badum-tss.
As it stands, he just snickers, clearly pleased he caught Fever's terrible pun. (He's also close to bouncing on his toes in excitement again.) "You think so? Not gonna be, uh..." A sly look. "That hard to grasp?"
Totally doesn't count. Besides, Radar would still insist it was his own dumb fault for getting scared so easy!
He dissolves into snickering. "'Course not, ma'am," he says, abandoning the pun war for everyone's sake, and happily trots after her. Behind them, the chickens waddle back indoors, relieved the noise seems to be over for now.
When she stops, they've got some room, not too close to the animals - she expects the sudden magic might spook them, and when practicing grabbing things, one should try inanimate first.
"Right. Okay, first things first. I want you to take a deep breath. Feel centered in this moment, right here. You're you. All this is, it's already in you. You're just giving it some shape."
Radar obediently takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. Around him, the constant free-floating noise whispers in its usual ebb and flow. It tugs him away from himself like an insistent phone ringing, his mind leaping into its usual filing clerk mode to keep it all in check. When you can hear so much of everybody else, it's kinda hard to just let yourself be you.
But he tries. Cautious, like Sheogorath's been teaching him, he reaches inside himself to turn down the dial. Not all the way -- that just freaks him out, like someone's slapped a blindfold over his eyes -- but enough to let his ears relax a little. Enough that he can hear himself loud and clear over the noise.
Setting herself into a neutral stance, she goes through a gesture slowly, letting him see how her hands move. Turning, bringing together, and then pulling apart, opening up.
"Imagine that your hands are outlining the shape of what you want. Calling up a spark, and coaxing it into life. Breathe in, and as you breathe out, you say, this is my will. You would have this exist."
And if he's doing it right, then there will be a sensation across the back of his shoulders. Like a kind touch mixed with a good word, something comforting and encouraging to push him along. Something that's been there - because he's there, after all, why should it be foreign?
Radar nods. He takes another long breath as he imitates the movement of her hands. Turn, together, apart. One, two, three. It feels awkward as anything at first, and he keeps forgetting to match it to his breathing, let alone say the words out loud. Turn, together, apart. Breathe in, breathe out. Is this really all it takes to do something as big as magic?
Coordinate it like you're doing CPR, he thinks. That's just a couple of gestures, too -- but sometimes it's all it takes to make a whole entire heart start beating again.
"This is my will," he whispers. The shape of the movements are falling into place. "This is my will. This..."
Oh, that doesn't sound like him at all. He sighs out, frustrated, and tries again. Turn, together, apart; breathe in. "This is what I wanna do."
And he almost yelps as something brushes across his back.
Except whatever it is feels so warm and caring, too. It's not a chill like something frightening or unwanted. It's almost like, for a second, his mom touched the spot right between his shoulder blades and whispered: I'm here, Walter. He doesn't know if he's gonna laugh or cry.
Breathless, he looks up at Fever. "I think I felt something."
He doesn't have to verbally say it, she thinks, but it's on her for not being clear enough, and if words work for him, it's what it is. She isn't going to rush him, isn't going to step in unless he wants her to. All the movement, the centering - that's just to get him in the right mindset, something she knows like her own breathing but understands that he doesn't.
That moment, that shift in the air, it's something she knows happened by his reaction, and she smiles when she looks at him.
"Something you know, right? It's not a stranger, even if we're doing new things."
Her oldest friend, leaping to her instinct and willpower, intertwined with her so closely. Something she reached for, and found it reaching back. There are those who see it more mechanically, she knows, but Fever has never not felt it when she casts.
"Yeah." He laughs, a little watery. "Kinda like my mom was here for a second."
Known, and beloved. Never a stranger for an instant.
"Wow." Looking down at his hands, he makes the gesture again, mouthing this is what I wanna do instead of whispering it, just to see if it'll still work no matter how loud he says the words. And there it is again, that wisp of feeling across his back that makes him break into another disbelieving giggle.
"You'll find that the words aren't necessary, after a while. When you're used to how it feels to put yourself in that space, then you'll be able to skip straight to incantations."
She's glad to hear it.
"Now that you know it's awake, time to put it into practice. I'll show you the motions first, and then you can pair it together."
It's a simple movement, something that he's probably seen her do at work before, but she takes care to be precise right now, focused instead of the way that cuts corners.
"The incantation for this is voco. But just motion and words don't make a spell. With that intent you have, and the spell components there, we've almost got all the pieces in place. But what's missing?"
"You need to know what you want to do with all of that! And with this spell, you know you're making another hand. Left or right, it doesn't matter - whichever one you know best."
And to complete the explanation, she does the motion again.
"Voco."
A flash of light passes over her eyes, and then there - the ghostly blue replica of her right hand, floating before them. Which she uses to wave at him, before sending it out to pick up a bucket. Just like that.
Wow, he guessed right! He's definitely gonna get a good grade in magic.
Radar beams and waves back at the ghostly hand without really thinking; sure, he's seen Fever conjure it up dozens of times at Town Hall, but now he's got reason to pay extra-close attention to how all the pieces fit together. Voice, motion, will, and focus. He watches the extra hand zip away to pick up the bucket, then bounces on his toes a couple times and shakes out his arms like he's about to do a relay race around the entire ranch.
Okay. He's got this. Just like riding a bike up easy street.
"Voco."
...Okay, maybe he doesn't got this. Frowning, Radar tries again. He swears he's doing everything right, but the pieces don't seem to be connecting into one fluid whole like they should.
"I can still feel it, " he says, "but it's like -- oh, I don't know." He tries again. "Like it's slipping out before I can catch it."
"Patience, Radar. You're getting to know each other in a new way."
At least, that's how it feels sometimes, greeting a new spell into her arsenal. Just because someone bestows a new spell on you doesn't mean it'll do what you want.
"Can you keep a secret?"
Of course he can.
"Father gave me some new magic, after the everything happened. And I had every confidence I was going to do it correctly as soon as I understood it. I'm good at what I do. Of course it was going to go the way I wanted it to, and I could feel it right there." A tiny beat, more for effect than anything else. "It hasn't yet. Not once. It's definitely being slippery."
And she's got nothing but time. If her day's spent working with him in practice, she'll call it a good one.
His eyes go round. "Really? But you're so good at it! You can do all kinds of magic like it ain't nothing!"
Another attempt. It feels more -- solid this time, like the air is pushing back a little against his palms. Without realizing, Radar pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, squinting down at his hands.
"That I can," she agrees, full of every confidence in that, "but that doesn't mean I can do everything. I've never worked with the type of spell he gave me before now. It'd be fantastic if it was easy, don't get me wrong, but it isn't, and so I have to keep working with it."
"Yeah." More thoughtful. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You know back home it seems like every other month they got a new form they want us to fill out for requisitions or a new thing they wanna start including in everybody's personnel file, and half the time it means I gotta change up how I do stuff all over again. It's not as tough as magic, but it ain't something you can learn once and never have to learn again, either. Voco."
Something sputters to life between his hands, a glimmer that barely lasts half a second, but Radar still yelps in delight. "Didja see that?!"
She's as excited as he is, having caught the beginnings of it instantly. Oh, it's going to work. It's getting closer and closer now. Maybe if they keep talking, it'll help - help Radar relax or at least pass the time. It certainly can't hurt.
"And yeah, sometimes it feels like that. I'd show you how the spell is so far, but it's nothing worth seeing. Just difficult, and something I can work on for only so long until I get another of my headaches." And still far too cute and not vicious and deadly enough. "You know what you want to do, and you know you can do it, but you have to figure out the how."
Wizards get spellbooks where they write their predetermined rites and methods. But sorcerers? Things need to be felt and refined. She can only teach him the way she knows, in the end.
"Aw, I think any kind of magic's worth seeing," says Radar loyally. "It's still real neat finding out all the stuff you can do with it, even if I've been here a while. What kinda spell is it?"
The motion of his hands grows smoother as he talks. Definitely seems like when he's not thinking about the spell so hard that his brain's about to overheat, it gets easier to string all the components together properly.
"Shapeshifting," she admits, noticing the change to his hands. Overthinking it is as bad as underthinking it, and this is meant to be easy and fun. "I don't have the same variety as he does - he can be anything he likes, all the chaos in him - but I'm learning to be something different. Things that both are and are not me."
Max hadn't realized, at least, so there's hope for the future of slinking past undetected.
"But, I don't entirely know how to be these other things yet. So Father says, when I asked him why it wasn't working how it should."
Instantly, Radar perks up. (Well, perks up further.)
"Shapeshifting! Gee, I always wondered about shapeshifting magic. You know Miss Ylva told me about it the first day I was here and I dunno if I'd wanna spend too long as something else, but I thought it was the neatest thing, being able to turn into an animal whenever you wanted. I bet it'll be real handy once you get the hang of it! There's -- well," and here he pulls a mild face, "Edgar's got a friend who's over at the ranch a lot who can turn into whatever she wants, and a lot of time she just uses it to tease me, but she's good at it. Maybe she can help teach you how to be other things too."
(Look, you can't blame Nimona too much. Radar's such an easy mark sometimes.)
"I know her, it just..." And here, Radar will bear witness to a rare sight, Fever looking somewhat embarrassed at the thought. "Nimona's really good at what she does, and I don't know. It feels like asking a world famous artist to look at a child's sketch drawing. I feel like I should at least have a basic handling of it before I ask for her advice."
Oh, gosh, Fever. She looks so unlike herself that Radar's gotta pause all his gesturing for a second, just so he can give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder instead.
"Hey, maybe if you want, you could practice while I'm practicing? We can work on our spells together!"
Because, well, Fever's kinda got a point. Considering how much Nimona teases Radar, he's pretty sure she'd poke fun at Fever, too, and nobody needs that when they're just learning.
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Because that's just as important, if not more so. Korea taught him that safety can be relative. Sure, it's a relief that he never has to worry about some awful compulsion overriding his friend and hurting him or people he loves in the process, of course it is -- but Radar thinks of how much she's been hurting, carrying around that weight, and hears how she sings now that she's let it go. No wonder her mind sounds like a wide open field and a newborn horse ready to run.
"Oh, I'm so glad." He hugs her even tighter for a second before he finally pulls back, beaming. "Boy that must've been a pretty huge spell if your dad and Miss Mortanne got involved, huh? But if anybody was gonna be able to do it it'd be you three."
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The chicken is allowed to return to the earth, and Fever's now free hands go to her hips. She's not refusing further questions, but she realizes that if she goes too far down this road, they're going to lose track of her original reason for showing up in the first place.
"In fact, I think you'll take to it quite handily."
Get it. Since it's an extra hand.
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As it stands, he just snickers, clearly pleased he caught Fever's terrible pun. (He's also close to bouncing on his toes in excitement again.) "You think so? Not gonna be, uh..." A sly look. "That hard to grasp?"
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"Radar, have I ever put you a situation you couldn't handle?"
The House of Cards doesn't count, and she beckons him to follow her if he's done with the coop for the time being.
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He dissolves into snickering. "'Course not, ma'am," he says, abandoning the pun war for everyone's sake, and happily trots after her. Behind them, the chickens waddle back indoors, relieved the noise seems to be over for now.
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"Right. Okay, first things first. I want you to take a deep breath. Feel centered in this moment, right here. You're you. All this is, it's already in you. You're just giving it some shape."
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Radar obediently takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. Around him, the constant free-floating noise whispers in its usual ebb and flow. It tugs him away from himself like an insistent phone ringing, his mind leaping into its usual filing clerk mode to keep it all in check. When you can hear so much of everybody else, it's kinda hard to just let yourself be you.
But he tries. Cautious, like Sheogorath's been teaching him, he reaches inside himself to turn down the dial. Not all the way -- that just freaks him out, like someone's slapped a blindfold over his eyes -- but enough to let his ears relax a little. Enough that he can hear himself loud and clear over the noise.
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Setting herself into a neutral stance, she goes through a gesture slowly, letting him see how her hands move. Turning, bringing together, and then pulling apart, opening up.
"Imagine that your hands are outlining the shape of what you want. Calling up a spark, and coaxing it into life. Breathe in, and as you breathe out, you say, this is my will. You would have this exist."
And if he's doing it right, then there will be a sensation across the back of his shoulders. Like a kind touch mixed with a good word, something comforting and encouraging to push him along. Something that's been there - because he's there, after all, why should it be foreign?
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Coordinate it like you're doing CPR, he thinks. That's just a couple of gestures, too -- but sometimes it's all it takes to make a whole entire heart start beating again.
"This is my will," he whispers. The shape of the movements are falling into place. "This is my will. This..."
Oh, that doesn't sound like him at all. He sighs out, frustrated, and tries again. Turn, together, apart; breathe in. "This is what I wanna do."
And he almost yelps as something brushes across his back.
Except whatever it is feels so warm and caring, too. It's not a chill like something frightening or unwanted. It's almost like, for a second, his mom touched the spot right between his shoulder blades and whispered: I'm here, Walter. He doesn't know if he's gonna laugh or cry.
Breathless, he looks up at Fever. "I think I felt something."
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That moment, that shift in the air, it's something she knows happened by his reaction, and she smiles when she looks at him.
"Something you know, right? It's not a stranger, even if we're doing new things."
Her oldest friend, leaping to her instinct and willpower, intertwined with her so closely. Something she reached for, and found it reaching back. There are those who see it more mechanically, she knows, but Fever has never not felt it when she casts.
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Known, and beloved. Never a stranger for an instant.
"Wow." Looking down at his hands, he makes the gesture again, mouthing this is what I wanna do instead of whispering it, just to see if it'll still work no matter how loud he says the words. And there it is again, that wisp of feeling across his back that makes him break into another disbelieving giggle.
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She's glad to hear it.
"Now that you know it's awake, time to put it into practice. I'll show you the motions first, and then you can pair it together."
It's a simple movement, something that he's probably seen her do at work before, but she takes care to be precise right now, focused instead of the way that cuts corners.
"The incantation for this is voco. But just motion and words don't make a spell. With that intent you have, and the spell components there, we've almost got all the pieces in place. But what's missing?"
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"Thinking real hard about what exactly you want it to do?" he ventures.
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He's great at this. A perfect natural.
"You need to know what you want to do with all of that! And with this spell, you know you're making another hand. Left or right, it doesn't matter - whichever one you know best."
And to complete the explanation, she does the motion again.
"Voco."
A flash of light passes over her eyes, and then there - the ghostly blue replica of her right hand, floating before them. Which she uses to wave at him, before sending it out to pick up a bucket. Just like that.
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Radar beams and waves back at the ghostly hand without really thinking; sure, he's seen Fever conjure it up dozens of times at Town Hall, but now he's got reason to pay extra-close attention to how all the pieces fit together. Voice, motion, will, and focus. He watches the extra hand zip away to pick up the bucket, then bounces on his toes a couple times and shakes out his arms like he's about to do a relay race around the entire ranch.
Okay. He's got this. Just like riding a bike up easy street.
"Voco."
...Okay, maybe he doesn't got this. Frowning, Radar tries again. He swears he's doing everything right, but the pieces don't seem to be connecting into one fluid whole like they should.
"I can still feel it, " he says, "but it's like -- oh, I don't know." He tries again. "Like it's slipping out before I can catch it."
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At least, that's how it feels sometimes, greeting a new spell into her arsenal. Just because someone bestows a new spell on you doesn't mean it'll do what you want.
"Can you keep a secret?"
Of course he can.
"Father gave me some new magic, after the everything happened. And I had every confidence I was going to do it correctly as soon as I understood it. I'm good at what I do. Of course it was going to go the way I wanted it to, and I could feel it right there." A tiny beat, more for effect than anything else. "It hasn't yet. Not once. It's definitely being slippery."
And she's got nothing but time. If her day's spent working with him in practice, she'll call it a good one.
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Another attempt. It feels more -- solid this time, like the air is pushing back a little against his palms. Without realizing, Radar pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, squinting down at his hands.
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Something sputters to life between his hands, a glimmer that barely lasts half a second, but Radar still yelps in delight. "Didja see that?!"
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She's as excited as he is, having caught the beginnings of it instantly. Oh, it's going to work. It's getting closer and closer now. Maybe if they keep talking, it'll help - help Radar relax or at least pass the time. It certainly can't hurt.
"And yeah, sometimes it feels like that. I'd show you how the spell is so far, but it's nothing worth seeing. Just difficult, and something I can work on for only so long until I get another of my headaches." And still far too cute and not vicious and deadly enough. "You know what you want to do, and you know you can do it, but you have to figure out the how."
Wizards get spellbooks where they write their predetermined rites and methods. But sorcerers? Things need to be felt and refined. She can only teach him the way she knows, in the end.
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The motion of his hands grows smoother as he talks. Definitely seems like when he's not thinking about the spell so hard that his brain's about to overheat, it gets easier to string all the components together properly.
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Max hadn't realized, at least, so there's hope for the future of slinking past undetected.
"But, I don't entirely know how to be these other things yet. So Father says, when I asked him why it wasn't working how it should."
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"Shapeshifting! Gee, I always wondered about shapeshifting magic. You know Miss Ylva told me about it the first day I was here and I dunno if I'd wanna spend too long as something else, but I thought it was the neatest thing, being able to turn into an animal whenever you wanted. I bet it'll be real handy once you get the hang of it! There's -- well," and here he pulls a mild face, "Edgar's got a friend who's over at the ranch a lot who can turn into whatever she wants, and a lot of time she just uses it to tease me, but she's good at it. Maybe she can help teach you how to be other things too."
(Look, you can't blame Nimona too much. Radar's such an easy mark sometimes.)
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"Hey, maybe if you want, you could practice while I'm practicing? We can work on our spells together!"
Because, well, Fever's kinda got a point. Considering how much Nimona teases Radar, he's pretty sure she'd poke fun at Fever, too, and nobody needs that when they're just learning.
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gmail taking a tag snack i see
gdi gmail, tags are not a tasty treat >:(
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