Magic Is Hard

[unrecovered]

[The best way to improve in a skill was training. Wash knew that. What he hadn't realized was that training went a lot more smoothly with someone who knew what they were doing in charge.]

[This probably explained why his attempts to practice magic in the park had been frustrating and fruitless for the past half hour. He had no experience in magic and no idea what to do - what he had was determination to master a weapon he'd need in order to fight, and a supply of patience that was beginning to run low.]

[His magic was different than most people's, he reasoned. He didn't have to start his own, like Casey, or use what was on hand, like Greg - no, his element was all around him all the time, and all he had to do was make it do what he wanted. Somehow.]

[Anyone who had been watching him for a bit may have seen sweeping and increasingly ridiculous arm motions - movements that might actually look cool if the wind was playing its part, but just came off as badly choreographed interpretive dance without it. Anyone who had been watching for quite a while may have witnessed him yelling at the sky about how one sweater-vested asshole could have at least provided a tutorial.]

Comments

[goddamngrenades]

[ With his own failed attempts at going exactly where he wanted to go? York doesn't have room to talk. he's been trying to port back and forth across the field to specific markers and missing them for the better part of two hours. ]

Still got my lighter, if that helps. [ He pulls it from his pocket and holds that up. ] Go for it.

[unrecovered]

Will it stay lit on its own? Because the last thing either of us needs is friendly fire.

[This is working under the assumption that Wash can get his magic to work. Still, if it does happen, the last thing he wants to do is send a burst of it straight at York.]

[goddamngrenades]

Good point. And yep, it will. Filled it up this morning. [ He flicks the flame into life and sets it on the ground, taking a few cautions steps away. ]

[unrecovered]

[Wash watches him and moves a few steps to the side, angling his aim further away from York, just in case. He focuses on the lighter and concentrates. Okay. He can do this. This will be totally different from everything he's done for the past few hours.]

[Right.]

[He waves his hand, willing the air around him to move forward and blow out the lighter. It doesn't work.]

[Neither does the second try.]

[Or the third]

[Or the half dozen after that.]

...how much fuel did you put in it? [Because they could be here a while.]

[goddamngrenades]

[ Wash focuses on trying to blow out the lighter. York tries to port to the rock he'd tossed about ten feet away. So far he's been just beyond, to the right, to the left, and three feet above.

But he's getting CLOSE. Yeah. ]

Enough to go for about four hours. Uh. What happened the first time you used your magic?

[unrecovered]

I may need that long.

[Look at all that self-confidence. Look at it.]

We got ambushed by Nox, and...it didn't go well. I thought we were going to die. I got desperate, and- [He punctuates the sentence with a sweep of his hand, hoping that the story will trigger something that will let him grab hold of the wind again, and-]

[Nothing happens. Of course.]

[He slumps a bit.]

That's the only time I've been able to make it work.

[goddamngrenades]

Because if you didn't, you and your friends were gonna die.

[ Creating that same bit of desperation- there are probably ways to trigger it but none of them are something York could do and look at himself in the mirror happily. ]

Maybe you're focusing too much on trying to make it happen? Trying so hard it just kinda...doesn't work.

[unrecovered]

Yeah.

[Good times.]

Screaming and panicking doesn't work for everyone, York.

[goddamngrenades]

Am I screaming and panicking now? [ Gonna port over to Wash and-

Okay so he's BEHIND wash but it's like. Right up on him. Which was the point. Okay. ]

Try relaxing? Maybe it's a zen kinda deal.

[unrecovered]

[It's reflexes and combat training that bring Wash's elbow up, ready to strike backwards; it's a conscious effort that stops the blow, and he lowers it carefully. Right. It's just York.]

[He's very obviously not good at relaxing.]

I can't.

[goddamngrenades]

Yeah. I can see that. [ Dick move on his part, he'd earn the hit. ] You ever try some breathing exercises? Meditation, yoga, that kinda shit?

[unrecovered]

[He steps away from York because seriously, why is York still directly behind him, what the hell.]

Do I look like Florida?

[goddamngrenades]

[ Because he was gonna port away to be a dick and hadn't gotten around to it yet. Duh. ] Nope, but it doesn't mean you're incapable. Can't hurt to try, yeah?

[unrecovered]

[Look at how utterly unimpressed he is. Just look.]

Right. You first.

[goddamngrenades]

Okay. I guess I just- right. How'd he put it?

[ York rolls out his shoulders and his neck, blinking into the middle distance. Relaxing this much is usually impossible but. Hey. Wash has his six. They're good.

One deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Rinse. Repeat. ]

Gimme a target.

[unrecovered]

[York looks ridiculous. Florida really was the only one who could pull the meditation thing off; everyone else looks like they're trying too hard, York included.]

[Wash points to a tree about thirty yards away, with a clear line of sight from where they're standing.]

That one.

[goddamngrenades]

Alrighty. [ He shakes himself out, peers at the tree. Takes a deep breath and-

Well







He's above the tree? Dead center. And dropping into place.]


Sonova-