“Remember that funny thing I told you about? Remember what it was called?”
I respond as I stare lovingly into her eyes, “Sure, the GALS, we both joked it was a heck of a name for a bunch of old white dudes to pick for a particle physics project.”
This cheeky woman responds, “Sure sure, of course you’d remember -that- one as the funny thing. Sometimes I can’t believe you. Then I remember, you’re you. Seriously though, the situation was crazy beyond belief.”
She gnaws on the inside of her cheek as she adopts a quizzical expression momentarily. Apparently she decides the story is worth only partially continuing as she concludes, “Sorry you were sick. ‘Le played a song kind of in your honor. She missed you. Misses you. We need to all get together sometime, go to the beach or something.”
I run my fingers through her gorgeous hair, and she mimics the motion with my own hair. The shampoo she got me really does bring out the best in my hair, just like hers. I just, I can’t get enough of the sensation. Her scalp, the bristliness along the sides, her incredibly fine, luxurious hair. Each is their own unique delight upon my fingertips.
She pauses her own sifting to reach up and take my hands. Her visage is deadly serious as she asks, “Do you really want to keep living out there on Six? I’m not going to try to butt in or change your mind, but I’m worried about you, especially those tasks on that tenny website. Doing almost anything for a tenner sounds like a recipe for disaster. I, I just. The offer is open. Okay? It’s on the table. It’s all on the table. You don’t have to answer right now, in fact, please don’t answer right now. Just promise me you’ll think it over? Please?”
I gulp, and find myself flustered as I realize my eyes are wet with still-forming tears. I’m uncertain what’s got me so emotional. It’s not like she hasn’t offered before. I guess it just touches me that she cares so deeply.
As I finish putting on my jacket, she takes a step back to give me space. I flash her a weak smile as I promise, “I will, I’ll think about it. It, it sounds really nice. Just, just you know, I, I haven’t even. Not all of it. I haven’t told you all of it. Thank you for being so patient. I swear I’ll think about it though, I promise. I love you.”
She gulps. I know she can’t respond, but she tries anyway, “I, yeah, I, y’know. You too. Air. Air you’r—“
I awaken to a throbbing pain that must have come from a sharp impact when my head likely slammed into the wooden floor. I also awaken to Teuila shaking me, asking, “Air. Air, you’re okay, right? Air are you okay? Your nose is bleeding, bad. Reggie? My Airhead? Please be okay. Normally I let you sleep these off, but you’ve been bleeding for minute after minute now.”
When I suddenly inhale a ragged breath, Teuila virtually flings herself into my arms as she lifts me into a seated position for an embrace. I glance about, dazed from the impact, and perhaps the blood loss. Te is right, I’m pouring a fountain of blood. It’s like my brain ruptured and is leaking out through my nostril as easily as a bathroom faucet. Wow that’s an odd sensation. I can tell I would have a migraine right now, but the rapid blood flow is relieving the pressure where the migraine would be located.
I notice an odd thing, if it has supposedly been minutes upon minutes, my frost from this spell has lasted too long for a spell without my concentrated focus maintaining it. Everyone in the room is still thawing out, including the room itself. Jarrah is sifting his fingers through his beard to comb out frost, and patting down his robes and chest repeatedly for warmth. Jarrah apparently notices my wakefulness with mild fascination.
Jarrah expresses his curiosity, “Child, is this one of the spells you claimed to be able to sling fifty of in a row?”
I blush heatedly knowing that what I’m about to say is going to come off as either bragging, or petulant and entitled. I grimace as I admit, “Um, no, back home it would be stronger, but shorter duration, and, um, it didn’t cost me mana to cast. Pulling the heat out of the atmosphere actually refueled my mana, so I could do it endlessly. Better than endlessly, I could do it on top of slinging other spells.”
Jarrah's crazed gaze is incredulous, but I can tell he’s seeking signs of a lie, and not finding any. My hypersensitive hearing picks up Jarrah commenting in a quiet mutter to himself, “Endless spells, a remarkable affinity for absence.”
I prod him on his muttering, “What do you mean by an affinity for absence?”
Jarrah’s right brow twitches visibly as he lies to my face, “Hm? A what for what? Not certain what you’re on about. I’m curious about these books you and your Valkyrie have mentioned. You say one saw fit to douse you in a permanent enchantment, with a gift for translation?”
I frown and furrow my brow at his deflection. I don’t want to lose his tutelage though, so I nod as I respond, “Yeah. It won’t be able to do the same for several years if I understood the makings of the spell properly. I’m fairly certain I got an accurate read on it. Math about time-related things sometimes just comes a bit naturally to me. Sometimes. I suppose that’s another spell I could do, but I know you won’t believe me about that one.”
Jarrah’s wild eyes alight as he prompts, “You’ve a magic that performs calculations?”
Teuila and I burst out laughing. He scowls at the two of us, and I realize I’d better answer quickly, “No, no, hah, I’m sorry. No, the mathematics is all trapped up in my head somewhere, it has been there since I, um, spawned is the term. No, the other spell I was talking about was my time skill. A handful of spells actually. I could send mental logs of current events, personality fragments or personality ghosts, or with a little effort, audible messages. I didn’t send them to a where however, I sent them to a when. I sent them into the past. Before you ask, I can’t prove it here, but they came back at a number of crucial moments in my life that I later realized I needed to send them back to.”
Jarrah scoffs, but his gaze studies me, and honestly the entire room with the otherworldly flitting of his eyes. I wonder if he can even stop his pupils to focus on a single thing. I haven’t even told him about the full extent of my space skill, my electrokinesis or acid generation, the benefits of resistances earned on Can’Z’aas. I really don’t want to waste time getting around to explaining all that anyway. It would be pointless bragging by this point. Hopefully he understands that I’m driven to obtain the power necessary to protect my loved ones, and that that’s all I want the power for.
Jarrah comments quietly to himself in a way that seems like he has been reading my thoughts, “Further undisclosed spells, apprehension at appearing to be a braggart, selfless desire for power, and still full of emotions, humor and love and whatnot, not a spent husk.” More audibly he asks, “Would you be willing to allow me to study this supposedly spent tome on the morrow? Or rather, whenever you’re free and interested in returning? If you’re to return to your dwelling and sleep, I’d be perfectly content to entertain again in as few as three or four hours.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
I thumb towards Teuila, “She’s the boss on this leg of the journey, I promised the book to her if we could find a way to recharge it or we ended up living on Rayileklia long enough for it to recharge.”
Jarrah nods absentmindedly at my explanation, and looks expectantly towards Teuila. Te is about to answer when Jarrah adds, “I’m not interested in claiming possession of it mind you, I’d simply like to verify something about the book and its origins.”
Teuila shrugs as she answers, “Sure, we can bring it when we come back, and you can knock yourself out with all that. That, that’s a phrase. In case that isn’t one here. I wasn’t telling you to go give yourself a concussion. Sorry.”
There’s the slightest chortle beneath Jarrah’s breath at Teuila’s answer. Whether he finds her anxious apology more humorous, or the phrase itself, I don’t know. Regardless, it seems like we have an accord, in part at least. Hm, origins of tomes sparks something in my mind. A memory that doesn’t seem to be all there. Is that just a result of my swiss-cheese brain, or is there something else at play?
Maybe I’m just misremembering the whole quest for the tomes on Can’Z’aas. How did our books end up as boss loot by several creatures? Seriously, an Octorochi and a Kraken in entirely different locations? How did one end up in what looked like a long-sealed gnome-cubby home? The one in the Naga uncategorizables library is the only one whose location made sense to me, well, the one at the chamelefolk village wasn’t too odd either. I’m not even sure where the one in the caldera was, since Luni retrieved it.
Gosh, the fact that a limit break spell of mine was able to cool Lord Agni even a few degrees is remarkable. The system bypassed his infinite thermal resistance and cooled him just enough to return him to drowsiness. Finding out that a continental sized beast slumbered beneath almost a third of our entire continent was so world-shatteringly heartbreaking at the time. It’s almost funny that he’s actually a pretty decent chap, and that I didn’t learn that until later, along with more world-shattering news. Huff. Every time I thought the possible doom couldn’t get any worse, it got worse. I didn’t even jinx it by saying it out loud or anything, or even thinking it consciously enough to log it! Oh well. Some day. Someday.
A ragged inhalation leaves me as a sigh which becomes a yawn. I’m fairly spent, and I need to hydrate, my migraine is starting to increase as the blood flowing from my nose decreases. We should probably return to our dwelling and retire. Jarrah has given us an open invitation to return, though neither of us is convinced that a spell exists to undo Dawn’s curse. I, I just need to try the only things I can think of, the only things I can get better at that might even possibly come close to being on the right track towards a solution.
Jarrah asks of Teuila, “Does Reggie often suffer from migraines that collapse or explode blood vessels?”
Teuila frowns as she shakes her head, “No, my, my Airhead gets some migraines sometimes, but never had one that blew a river of blood out their nose. They had a mana corruption sickness back home. Please tell me that’s not what just happened here?”
Jarrah shakes his head as his gaze flits about the room while his face remains trained on her. I think he attempts consoling Te, “No, I don’t believe it’s anything of the sort, it’s more likely that Reggie simply felt too strongly about something, and let those emotions carry mana through them, into a rune I hadn’t even seen them construct. So now you know, feel less strongly, bleed less vital fluid.”
Teuila frowns and I join her in a frown that scrunches my face up towards my furrowed brow. The incredulity between the two of us towards Jarrah would be almost hilarious at most times. With Dawn’s literal soul hanging in the balance, we can’t afford humorous jabs at my emotional state.
Jarrah, almost seeming to read my mind, clarifies, “To be clear, my statement contained no humor. You’ll find me to be quite a humorless being on most occasions. Reggie there is unlike most mages who’ve reached such heights. Reggie still has the full gamut of emotions. Trust when I say you can barely imagine how unusual that is. I’m only just now able to surmise that it’s likely for this exact reason. I assume that, in physiplanars, it’s some sort of subconscious defense in other trained mages that slowly robs them of the breadth and, or depth of their emotions.”
After another ragged breath and a deep sigh I shake my head with incredulity. Great, me being an emotional wreck is even more dangerous than usual. I’m certainly not going to let any subconscious defense mechanism strip me of my feelings though. I gaze at Teuila. To love her any less, to feel that love less, it’s like a form of blasphemy or heresy. I’d, well, the current me would be pissed at the future me in that situation. Ugh, this is going to cause a headache to think about. Alright Reggie, just, just try to keep them under control unless it’s absolutely necessary to go all out.
Teuila nudges me and whisperingly asks, “You okay to walk home? I mean, our treehouse. Fort, thing. Want to go before this gets more awkward?”
I snort half a laugh as I nod weakly. I try not to laugh as I fight to stretch my jaw and massages my temples and forehead, attempting to fight off the migraine a bit longer. I share my affection with Teuila, “Yeah, absolutely yes. Please. I love you Te. You’re the best. Thank you.”
Dawn coughs politely from nearby which sets me to blushing. Te is already flustered and blushing from my verbal affection, but Dawn’s cough adds a pregnant pause to the situation that only makes her embarrassment worse.
To wrap things up, I express my gratitude towards our Enochian host, “Jarrah, we’ll head back now, but thank you for agreeing to take me on under your tutelage. Thank you for whatever you’ve done for Lil, Luni, and Lucky. I think I also need to thank you for your unsung resistance against a common foe. Yeah?”
Jarrah’s expression betrays nothing as he scoffs, “No physiplanar thanks necessary. We’ve all realms within realms. Despite my mostly lack-of-emotions, I’m rather fond of this one.”
Over the last few minutes of talking and thinking, the room still hasn’t fully thawed. I’m a bit worried that I may have damaged one of these miraculous trees. I think it’s hardier than that though, since my frost is generally only slightly below freezing when done as a quick blast. I’d have to concentrate for a good while to siphon enough heat to drop things to anywhere near absolute zero. Hm, technically though, this isn’t my frost. It was an accidental utilization of a Rayileklian cold rune.
Dawn, Teuila, and I depart, bidding Jarrah at least a temporary farewell. As the three of us trudge back down the egregiously large spiral staircase, past floor after floor of the Enochian Enclave filled with all number of Fae, I’m left to ponder Jarrah’s statement. Realms within realms? I’m definitely familiar with that. Thinkspace inside Can’Z’aas inside Rayileklia for example. Somehow. Hell, I wouldn’t be all that surprised to find out there’s some recursive loop, where our death on Can’Z’aas created Rayileklia which created Can’Z’aas which, ow, my head. Thanks for the logic loop Jarrah. But what’s that word he used twice? Physiplanar? Beings of the physical plane? I wonder if Percy’s meerkat familiar Tinpu could enlighten us at all on that word.
When we return, we need to ask if Mab, Bastet, Anubis, and Oberon are anywhere near as powerful as my stupid Fakeworld memories of Earth make them out to be. They’re archfey and literal gods and goddesses in the mythologies of Earth. For some reason, likely my genre senses tingling, I think that any power they have, from their true existence as physical beings existing on Rayileklia, is spread thin. It’s almost like I can already sense the extent of their power around us. Hm. Bastet’s illusion didn’t show any of the other high court members. Could they have been elsewhere for dire reasons? Four beings, not at the same location, using nearly all their power. Royally powerful entities scattered to the four winds to maintain the forest’s enchantments? I’m suddenly quite glad we decided to visit the Enochian Enclave rather than play at the politics of the Fae courts. Also, it might serve to prioritize not disturbing the various archfey, gods and goddesses scattered to the four winds, if it's that difficult to maintain the protection on the forest.