fandomtownies | Magic Box, Sunday, 06/22

Celia had been out for a walk today when she'd passed her own place of employment, and realized she didn't recognize the person she spied through the window.

Curiosity got the better of her, as well as an odd sense that she should know her coworkers, and she ducked her head inside. "Oh, hello. Do you know what those actually do?" she asked in greeting, nodding to the crystals. "I haven't figured it out yet."

"They make rainbows," Anders said with a quick, light grin. "But if you're asking about actual magic, I've not a clue either."

He realized that might not sound good and glanced to the bookshelves. "I'm sure there's a tome on it somewhere around here, if you're interested.....?"

Celia waved that off with a smile. "I'll look if I get bored on my own shift, because really, rainbows are nice but I can make them without involving a crystal, so surely that can't be the whole answer. I assume you work here? We're coworkers -- I'm Celia, Tuesdays."

"I do," Anders confirmed. "I'm Anders, and this is my regular shift. Sundays. Do a lot of us work here? I've met Rinoa and Surreal, and now you."

"There's Elsa, too -- she's on Wednesdays, I think -- but I'm not sure beyond that," Celia admitted. "So you actually do magic then? Or are you just keenly interested in it?"

She was admittedly a little excited, hoping the answer was the former. She'd hardly met any other magic users here -- at least, not ones who used their powers openly and identified them the way she did.

"I'm a mage," Anders acknowledged, an undercurrent of pride in his voice. "I was training at the Fereldan Circle until I came here. And you -- do you do it too, or are you just a fan?"

His hopes for the question were the same as hers. He always liked knowing other mages, as long as they weren't insufferable gits. Celia did not seem insufferable so far.

"A mage, now?" Celia quirked an eyebrow in interest, smiling. "I like the terminology. We call ourselves illusionists where I'm from, which I think rather lacks that sort of flair. So -- to answer your question, yes, I do magic, and it's so good to meet someone else who does, too! Nearly everyone I know here can blame their powers on biological experimentation or science or the like -- those of us who call it magic are few and far between, it seems."

Anders laughed. "I hadn't heard 'illusionists' before. Makes us sound tricksy, doesn't it? And that's often not a bad thing. And I hadn't noticed that yet, but now that I think about it, you're right -- it seems to be a handful of mages and such in a sea of other things. Always nice to find a fellow magic-user."

"So what can you do?" Celia asked eagerly, leaning on the counter. "Any specialties?"

Considering the limitations of her own magic, Celia was always curious to hear about what others could do. It was partially driven by professional interest, of course, but mostly by honest curiosity.

"Fire and ice for combat," Anders ticked off. "But healing's what I really love, and I seem to have a touch for it. That's with potions and spirit healing. What about you?"

His curiosity, too, was half genuine and half professional.

"Mostly visual magic," Celia admitted, looking intrigued. "I can change the color, texture, temperature and size of most things off-hand, as well as move things about with my mind. Fairly useless in combat, unfortunately, unless you need me to move something out of the way. Have you actually had to use your magic in a combat situation?"

She'd only had to fling a few harpies, when she was her other-self. She rather wished she'd have another opportunity, honestly -- she was fairly sure she could manage more than just that, if pressed.

"Yes. Well, not true combat," Anders admitted. "Not a war or anything. But I've come up against some mercenaries and a few demons."

It happened when you ran away as much as Anders did.

"How do you do the color-changey bit? I've got nothing along those lines."

"I just sort of will it to be a certain way," Celia admitted with a shrug, holding out her arm to demonstrate. Her sleeve changed from dark blue to green, and then back again, the color spreading through the fabric like a well-controlled spill. "I don't deal in spells or the like, unfortunately, though I'm fascinated by the idea. Is that how your magic works?"

"A bit, but it's more about pulling power from the Fade," Anders explained. "We use spells as a way to focus, but that's all. Mostly it's more like willing the way you do, just ... directed willing."

"The Fade?" Celia repeated, arching her brows. "Is that...like a higher power, of some sort?"

Interesting.

"It's the place we go when we dream," Anders explained. "Elves, humans .. probably dwarfs, though I've never asked one about it. It's powered by our belief in it, and our belief in it gives us magic. Demons and spirits live there."

His mouth crooked in a half-smile. "The word I've heard here for a similar idea is 'heaven,' but I don't think that's quite the same."

"We don't usually think of demons spending much time in heaven, no," Celia said with a small smile. "That's fascinating. So anyone can use magic where you're from, provided that they believe in the Fade?"

It was so different, yet so similar to how her powers worked. The terminology and spirituality was off, but not by much.

"No, sorry, doing magic is an inborn skill," Anders clarified. "Usually it shows up by the time you're 10 or 12. Anybody can visit the fade if they know the rite, but it's not the safest thing to do what with the demons and such."

And that had Celia nodding. "We're primarily born with it where I'm from, too," she shared. "I inherited through my father's side, but I think people can learn magic from scratch. It'd be much harder though, I'd think. And we don't have demons or spirits. At least, that I know of."

Anything was possible, she supposed.

"It runs in families for us, too -- although my parents could never agree where I got mine from," Anders said wearily. "My mother blamed my father, my father blamed my mother, and I swear they considered whether I'd been switched at birth. They aren't particularly happy to have a magical child."

"Neither was my mother," Celia offered, overly casually. "On the other hand, Papa wasn't pleased to have a child at all until he found out I was magical. So it goes either way. Of course, magicians in my world aren't as open about it as it sounds like they are in yours, so that's a concern, too -- my mother didn't like not having a real explanation for what was happening, other than 'your daughter is magical, sorry that that's not something you really believe is possible.'"

"Your mother didn't believe in magic at all?" Anders asked, surprised. "So your father had never told her what he was. That must have been an awkward conversation."

"Probably would've been, if they'd had it," Celia admitted. "My father didn't even know about me until my mother died, though. But I think she must have at least suspected -- my father makes his living performing magic in public for people who don't know they're looking at the real thing."

She rolled her eyes, showing her distaste for the practice, even if she was likely to go into the same business herself.

"Sorry for your loss," Anders said simply. "And I have to say, your father's line of work would be a good way to get arrested where I'm from. We mages either live in the Circle where we're supposed to be, or we keep our heads down."

He shrugged, uncomfortable explaining this. "The fact people know about mages doesn't mean they like it."

"Out of fear?" Celia guessed. "Or is it just discomfort at knowing that mages can do things the average person can't?"

"The theory is that it protects everyone," Anders answered, rolling his eyes. "Mages because we can be trained and watched, everyone else because we're all in one place and can be avoided."

This was perhaps not the party line, but Anders couldn't stop being angry at the existence of the circles.

"So I'd call it fear. Have you seen something of the same reaction?"

"Mostly just people who don't believe, period," Celia admitted. "In my world -- which I think is very similar to this one, though I'm from a century and a half or so before this time -- magic is seen as the stuff of children's stories. Anything incredible is immediately dismissed as a trick or the work of some higher power, either good or evil. So those of us who can do it pretend we can't -- my father always makes sure that his performances can be explained by sleight of hand, that sort of thing. We had a bit of a scare a century or two before my own time, where women who didn't even necessarily practice magic were hunted and killed for 'witchcraft,' so I think we're still a little hesitant after all that."

Anders' eyes widened. "Hunted and killed just for the allegation of magic?" he asked. "Typical. I'd keep quiet too, if I had that hanging over my head. Does anybody still think that way in your time?"

Celia shook her head. "Mostly just the belief that the sorts of things you and I can do is nothing more than fairy stories for children. There's a significant belief in the occult -- spirits and the afterlife and that sort of thing -- but that's all. It's both wildly convenient and incredibly frustrating, honestly, but I'll take it over what you've described." She winced sympathetically. "You'd think people would see magic as the gift it is, honestly, even if they weren't given it."

"That's what I always think," Anders nodded firmly. "We could do so much good in our communities. But no, we're supposed to spend our whole lives in Circles. The Templars farm us out to help as they see fit, of course --but we'd help more if we were free."

He sighed. "I wouldn't trade it, but I wonder if being born with magic is easy anywhere."

"How'd you manage to get here?" she asked, quirking a brow. "It sounds like you traded up from this Circle place, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Ran away," Anders said, a trace of pride crossing his face. "I got my hands on a potion that sort of ... bounced me through the Fade and landed me here. Much better mode of transit than sneaking away in the slops wagon the way I did last time, I have to say. How did you? Did your father let you go?"

"He thinks I'm training with my magical peers," Celia said with a tiny smile. "I haven't the heart to tell him what this place is really like. He'd probably yank me back home so fast my head would spin."

"And we can't have that," Anders said, returning the smile. "If I can ever help you keep the secret, let me know."

Magic Box, Sunday, 06/22

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