sanctus_dei | 42nd Resurrection

Once upon a time, someone suggested to Theo that he use his gravity magic to fly. Ridiculous! Doing things like flying about on broomsticks is a stereotype, something to mock real spellcasters with, like they were the witches and wizards of old. Theo is a modern spellcaster, thank you, and he wouldn't be caught dead doing such a thing.

Except that it sounds like a whole lot of fun, doesn't it? Especially after half a bottle of wine.

Tonight, well after midnight, Theo Crawford is out in his yard with some spellbooks and mason jars of components. This isn't unusual in itself. He's drawing circles, making incantations and casting spells and small inanimate objects first, and quite successfully. His two crows sit nearby, waiting for him to try it on himself. Humans don't fly, they don't have wings! So they can't wait to see this and get a good laugh.

Trying this on himself is a much different story. It takes more skill in control, some understanding of physics, more spell components and more energy - which he lacks pretty much all over. Theo is too impatient, and tries these spells too early. Are you ready for some failure, Mayfield?

You may find Theo:
- Zipping several yards in the air, before attempting to land. Sometimes he crash lands, sometimes he doesn't. Still, Theo is a frail guy. That looks like it hurt.
- Stuck in a tree. Shut up he can totally climb down, okay
- Crash landing through your roof, or upstairs windows. Now THAT has to hurt.
- Hovering in the air a few yards up, not going anywhere. He's sort of worked himself into a corner.

Or any other manner of craziness you can think of. It's a bird! It's a plane! It's fail!mage!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Have some more loud expletives. Someone's wishing he knew some healing spells.] SHIT! Goddamnit! What the hell... [He puts a hands to the wound, then looks at it, seeing all the blood. He's calm about it though.]

Christ, am I gonna die again...?

[She sets the glass shards to the side, out of the way. Theo's blood is on her hands, but she ignores it for the moment.]

No, you're not hurt that badly. I'm going to go get the first aid kit from the bathroom- stay still, Mr. Crawford, or it's just going to be more painful.

[There's a quiet but firm edge to her voice as she turns to go. Yeah, that cute and polite girl who asked you about chess? She's not here.]

[He's really not in much shape to argue. What he is in the perfect shape for is rambling.]

Good. Dying slow sucks. I don't... You don't need to bother, I'm just gonna go.

[from the hallway]

If I didn't want to bother, I'd have just left you there, you know.

I already crashed in. I should just go. [Attempt to get up number two is still not working.]

[coming back with the first aid kit!

...LE SIGH.]

...you're really stubborn guy, huh?

[Flops back down. Ugh.]

Yeah. I've heard that.

[Settles next to and starts taking out bandages. She washed her hands because germs are gross.]

So just how did you end up crashing through my window, hmmm?

Botched landing. Gravity spells.

I see! How unfortunate.

Please take off your shirt.

What? No! I'm fine, I swear.

Sorry, but the blood all over my carpet says otherwise, you know?

....

[He'll just unbutton it.]

[hands over a very large band-aid]

[He takes it and slaps it on. And the decides laying there till he feels like moving again is the best idea.]

...Thanks.

No thanks needed. Now, about those other cuts....[goes through kit]

[He wants to go home already. This has been humiliating enough.]

I can handle them later.

Are you saying that because you really can, or because you just want to leave?

I can! I'm not a child. [He says, sounding very childish.

It's slow, but he manages to get to his feet.]

Yes, of course. Your age alone proves that.

[watches him]

At least take the bandages. [beat] Please?

[He sighs, resigned.] Fine. I'll take them.

Thank you. I hope you heal up all right, it'd be shame if you got a scar.

I've already got plenty. One more is nothing.

Sure, think what you'd like. It is, after all, your body.

Still, I'll hope otherwise.

It'll be gone the next time I die, anyone.

[This S.O.B. dies all the time, ain't no thing.]

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headedforhope - 2011-06-06 21:44 (UTC) - Expand

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