Then I dunno what we have in common.
Fri Jan 3, 2014 02:29

“Like an alternate plane of existence where everything that’s ever been vanished is stored?” Niccolò wasn’t sure if that was exactly what she meant, but it sounded cool. “So everything imaginable has been well stocked, and then when you want to conjure it, that’s where you’re summoning objects from.” If it actually existed, that made sense to him. It was easy enough to dismiss any mystery with the excuse - it’s magic - but even magic had its rules, unimaginable laws that could not be broken, unable to bend, no matter how hard wizards pressed and prodded. Niccolò didn’t want to break anything, but he wanted to understand how their world worked, certain that every question had an answer.

He wrinkled his nose in mock irritation at hearing her call him by his surname. “Captain York, my dear lady.” Niccolò puffed up his chest, a broad grin conquering the entirety of his face, spurred on by her gentle tease. “Please, have some respect.” He quite enjoyed forcing his teammates and mascot to call him by the title while on the Pitch, cheerfully reminding them he could make them run laps until they obeyed, which usually ended up with a sweaty Inigo huffing and gasping at the end of practice, with only just enough energy to roll his eyes and concede defeat with a weak puff of air, Niccolò laughing into his face as he bent down and offered his arm, tugging his brother up off the ground where he’d collapsed.

The striking figure Niccolò proudly managed to pull off behind his desk somewhat fell apart, crumbling beneath Veronika’s sudden touch as her fingers wove briefly through his hair, the barest graze of her nails against his scalp as she plucked a grey feather from the dark forest of curls atop his head. “Um… yeah, thanks.” He blinked uncertainly, his own hand stretching forward, thinking he should return the favor, but he quickly slammed it back down on the desk and grappled for his own wand, watching as she took care of the feathered mess herself, unaware that he still had one settled just above his ear.

Idiot, don’t be stupid! He glanced up for the feather culprit, locating his pigeon pet settled awkwardly on one of the enchanted window sills, where the rockies were visible. It seemed to have grown in age, wilting feathers and a sad, droopy face. Niccolò aimed his wand at it, remembering a glamour charm his mother frequently cast before parties, muttering something about how children caused grey hairs and crow’s feet. He murmured the incantation, and watched in satisfaction as the pigeon shone with an almost silver-grey, perking up with a high pitched squawk as new feathers sprouted from its skin.

Beside him, Veronika had conjured a miniature white dove, which seemed to negate the possibility that she’d conjured it from an alternate plane of existence. It was a new creation, completely hers, unless previously someone else had created the same mistake, and vanished it away, for her to summon. “Engorgio,” Niccolò smiled, his wand pointed towards her dove, which abruptly began to grow, expanding into a perfect, normal sized dove. He leaned on his desk, reaching his hand out to stroke the soft feathers, the bird preening beneath his touch.

  • I’d rather keep my shirt onIka, Fri Jan 3 01:29
    “Well, it has to be real. I guess it’s like, the opposite of Vanishing things. So wherever stuff goes when you Vanish it… is the same place that stuff comes from when you conjure?” This was the part... more
    • Then I dunno what we have in common. — Niccolò, Fri Jan 3 02:29
      • “No, I was thinking more like—like clay?” Ika wasn’t sure it made sense, so she elaborated. “Like it… it’s just unformed stuff on the alternate plane or whatever. And when you conjure, pull it back... more
        • How smooth do you think I think I am?Niccolò, Fri Jan 3 05:41
          “A world of clay.” Niccolò’s tongue darted out, licking off the chocolate still lingering at the corners of his mouth. “A world of limitless imagination. That sounds kind of incredible. Imagine if... more
          • You think you’re a smooth criminalIka, Fri Jan 3 19:59
            Ika considered Nicco’s take on the theory. “Well, I think,” she said, “you’d just turn into—into the clay, if you ended up there. Like the rest of things. You don’t get to be Prometheus and sculpt a... more
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