heyfreemagic | Magic Is Hard

[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.]

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[He almost argues - because he knows he can't just stop thinking, because that's when Epsilon starts to seep into his thoughts and he needs to keep ahead of that - but Celestia knows magic better than he does, and he did take her up on her offer. He just...needs to figure out how to do this.]

All right.

[For a moment, he wishes he had Melody or Fang with him - a comforting presence he could focus on without really having to think about it-]

[But he has Delilah. He has a tiny little calico kitten waiting for him back at the apartment. Delilah, who climbs the sofa and sleeps on his chest and likes to hunt a catnip mouse that's almost as big as she is. Delilah, who loves him regardless.]

[For the first time that day, Wash smiles. It's a very small one, sure, but it's still there, and that's what counts.]

[Celestia waits patiently for him to find that moment, and when her patience is rewarded by that smile, she smiles in turn.]

Now then. I want you to focus very clearly on an image of what you want to do -- on the image, but not on the act.

[He nods, already thinking. What does he want to do?]

[Well, make his magic work, obviously, but that's probably too big for this. He needs to be more specific.]

[There's a tree not too far away, and he focuses on that. There. That low-hanging branch on the left side. He's going to make the wind rattle that branch. He can do that. He pictures it once, and again, and once more for good measure.]

[Right.]

[He can do this.]

Got it.

Now is the tricky part, and one I cannot perfectly describe to you. Concentrate on that image and make it a reality.

It is much like trying to, say, write a letter for the very first time when you are young and learning. You see what you want to accomplish, you picture it in your mind, and yet your muscles are not used to the movements necessary to put what you see to paper. This will be like that, because you are trying to make your mind intentionally work in a way it has never deliberately worked before. So do not get discouraged... simply make the effort.

[She tucks her wings in against her body as she finished, becoming less of a presence and thus less of a distraction. The exact actions, she can't tell him; all she could do was eliminate all the extraneous confusion that had been spoiling his efforts.]

[He nods again in response to her words, still focused on that branch. Use the wind and make it move. Simple. He can do that.]

[He moves his arm, a sweeping motion meant to help him direct his thoughts, direct the wind, use it to make that branch move, and-]

[Nothing. Absolutely nothing.]

[Frustration kicks in, pulling lines of tension taut across his shoulders and down his back, throat working angrily-]

[Nope. No. That hadn't helped before, and it wasn't going to help now. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, and another, and a third, until he's relaxed again. Okay. Better. Try again.]

[He focuses in on the branch again. He's done this before, and he can do it again. He just needs to use what he already has, right?]

[He makes that sweeping hand motion again, and this time it's different - this time, he feels it tug at that little place inside him that he hadn't noticed before, the place that tore open and spilled out destruction when he was fighting the Nox. This time it's a gentle tug at that place, and the tree branch rustles in the breeze.]

[He freezes for a moment, staring at the branch. The upside of air being everywhere is that he doesn't have to create his own to use his magic; the downside was that he has no guarantee that that had been his doing.]

[So he focuses again and tries it again, tugging on that little place again, and after a few seconds the breeze kicks up again, whistling through the leaves on that branch. Not the rest of the tree - just that one little branch is moving.]

[That's his work. He did it.]

[He- well, whatever he's doing, it's almost a laugh, and almost a smile. Close enough. Whatever it is, he's obviously relieved (along with a little tired and a little bewildered), and he leans back a bit.]

...okay.

[Celestia watches his progress, reading his thoughts in the motions of his body and the lines of his face. He might be surprised to know how ponylike he's being; the physical form might be different, but she's seen the same tension, frustration, surprise, and relief in many students before, and she hopes many since.]

[Little surprise he and 'she' had been friends before. What difference is there between the two of them? None at all. None meaningful anyway.]

There you have it. That was very well done.

[Part of him - the part that's kept him going through hours of frustration and failure - immediately wants to argue. It's not good enough. It took him way too long. It's not usable yet - not even close. He needs to work longer and harder on it. He needs to do better - to be better. Try as he might, Freelancer still has a pretty tight grip on parts of his psyche, and it's difficult to get away from it, even years later.]

[The other part of him recognizes that he's actually accomplished something here, that he doesn't have to worry about a lack of control - just a lack of direction. That same part knows that he wouldn't have gotten this far without Celestia's help. He owes her for that.]

Thanks. For the help. I don't know that I would have figured that out on my own - at least, not without exhausting myself first.

[Speaking of which, wow is he tired. It hits him as soon as he mentions it, and he leans back further, propping his elbows against the ground. He should have expected this after trying to work on his magic for so long, but he honestly didn't think it would affect him - not until he actually figured out how to use it.]

[...except he'd just done that.]

[Yeah. He definitely needs a minute to gather himself.]

[While all of those thoughts are true, Celestia would not have given a compliment if a compliment had not been earned. Trust your magic pony princess tutor, Agent Washington.]

You're quite welcome. I actually enjoyed it -- I haven't taught magic in so long, having the chance again was really very nice. I'd be happy to keep teaching you, if you are interested in learning more.

[Not now, of course. He needs rest and relaxation, as much as possible, to restore his mental energy.]

[He does trust her - he wouldn't have accepted her offer to help if he didn't. Still, it's hard for him to swallow his pride and even harder to shut up the part of him that keeps insisting he's not good enough.]

God yes. I need all the help I can get with this. What's next?

[He sits back up, ignoring the exhaustion still dragging at his limbs. He's had his time to rest; now he needs to get up and get working again. He can collapse later.]

[Celestia fixes him with a firm look.] Next is that you take the necessary time to rest and recover your strength. You are exercising yourself in ways you are unaccustomed to, and much like physical exercise, you cannot push yourself past your limits without doing more harm than good.

Magic Is Hard

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