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 Posted: Mon Nov 10, 2008 8:08 pm
With so much going on the past few months that actually involved working outside of his room, Micajah slowly began to notice how much of a slob he was when he didn't have to do much of anything in his space other than sleep. Clothes were strewn everywhere and many of them smelt pretty bad and in dire need of washing, not to mention there were piles of empty soda cans as well as little towers of soda bottles in every other corner. He was glad he didn't have ants or mice or anything or he was pretty sure that someone would come and toss him out of this room.
Or worse, toss a letter to his father. That was not a good plan.
So instead he took today off from classes, both in the classrooms and on his computer, and set about straightening out the sty that was supposed to be a neat room of a fifteen-year-old student. Clothes were tossed into a hamper and plastic trash bags that had been snatched from the cafeteria (he left a note saying he'd pay whoever back) were quickly filled with the bottles and wrappers and whatever else could be thrown away. He had a rag somewhere that he used to wipe down his desk and the chair that he usually curled up in, and with a deep sigh he pushed the last of whatever was in the way out of it.
"There, all clean. I dare it to get messy again."
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Posted: Thu Nov 13, 2008 8:06 am
Micajah really shouldn't have tempted fate.
Because as fate would have it, one beautiful blond, blue-eyed natural disaster was making his way down to Mica's dorm. The youth had sealed himself off again after the open house, having received the news of the large shift in staff. Greg and Dante had left. Scyeth was crushed, to put it simply. He wouldn't admit that; no one knew he was even remotely attached to the pair of men. They probably didn't even realize how much he actually cared.
It didn't matter, now.
Scyeth sighed and opened Mica's door, not bothering to knock. Under his arm was an old book, clutched to his side protectively. A gift from Dante; he wasn't able to return the ancient book before the elf had taken leave. It would have been necessary to know he was actually leaving to do that, huh? With a heavy sigh, the science student glanced at his friend. "You're in the magic program, right?" he demanded, walking over and settling himself on the bed as he flipped open yellowed pages. "I need your help."
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Posted: Thu Nov 13, 2008 10:55 am
If it had been any more of a person they probably would have only gasped when the door to their room suddenly opened and a figure came inside, but seeing as this person was Micajah and he'd been distracted enough all day to do nothing but clean not only did his shoulder tense but a tiny shriek of surprise escaped his lips. He turned quickly on his heels to find the cause (Scyeth) moving into his room and settling on his bed, and as soon as the youth had regained himself he frowned slightly.
"Yes, I'm the Magic Division, but what's that got to do with you coming in here so suddenly?"
He was about to demand in return that Scyeth get out, his mood good and happy because his room was clean and he actually had time to himself to do something fun along the lines of sewing a new hat or something, but he stopped himself from going any further at the request for help.
"...help with what? Is that a spell book?"
When those two questions joined themselves together in a single sentence he had a pretty good idea now of what the sparky-witted Science student before him wanted. Possession of a spell book and a request of help from a magic student could only mean one thing - magic was needed. Not that Micajah thought he could do it - he hadn't even properly gone to any magic classes, but who was he to tell this to a guy who had cold-cocked him on their first meeting?
"What spell is it?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 5:30 pm
"Yes. A spell book," Scyeth confirmed, not looking up from his page flicking. "It was a gift...from Dante." The youth sighed, pausing to remember the elf fondly. But that didn't matter now. It also didn't matter what Dante had told him about the spell he was about to attempt. He wasn't around to reprimand the student, after all. The blond finally looked up and motioned for Micajah to join him on the bed.
"This one," he said, spreading the book between them. "See these?" he asked, pointing to some notes. "These aren't like the others. I think this is...dark magic." The youth trailed off, hoping his friend wouldn't toss him out on his a** for the very idea. "I think I can do it," he hurried on, thinking maybe Mica would like his reasoning. "I mean, being a demon and all. I thought I could...make it work. You saw the fire. It could work."
The demon finally stopped talking and stared over at Mica. "C'mon."
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 5:41 pm
Micajah moved and sat beside Scyeth, taking a moment to brush his hair behind his ears and out of his face, before he took a good look at the book before him. Sure enough it was dark magic, a kind he hadn't seen before though it did look something a bit similar to a style he'd been reading about earlier in the week. The book that contained the similar style was somewhere over on his shelf, crammed between several others on completely different topics, so he didn't feel like getting up and trying to find it.
"Dark magic, really?"
The human youth sounded skeptical of everything, knowing good and well that because he was a human he had a bigger chance of getting hurt far worse in this should something go wrong. Naturally his brain told him to refuse the request and send the other teen away and his mouth opened in automatic response to his thoughts, thought he quickly clamped them shut as he remembered how Scyeth had said 'Dante'. While he had never met the Elf himself it was rather surprising to hear his demon friend mention a name with any sort of...fondness.
"So what do you want me to do, back you up on this? If that's the case then..."
He paused before he grinned, a look of eager mischief on his face.
"I'm game for it!"
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 5:58 pm
Scyeth practically lit up. "You will?" he exclaimed, almost in shock. "Excellent!" He really shouldn't have doubted the other student; not after all they'd been through together. Especially hosting that Halloween party, goddess above. Thank Luna he lived. Micajah should really be thanking his lucky stars he made it out in one piece, he was Weiyuan's lucky victim!
But back to the matter at hand.
"So, how do we start?" he asked, looking the page over breifly. "I've never tried any of it." That was hard to admit. Scyeth had a feeling that was probably something his father should have taught him, considering the state of their race, but alas. No use crying over spilled milk. "I'll help, though."
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Posted: Fri Nov 14, 2008 6:07 pm
"...you're lucky I tend to do things before I'm allowed to."
There was a hint of a chuckle in his voice as Micajah moved to stand up, motioning for Scyeth to do the same. He bent down and pushed his bed closer to the wall, as it had been sitting almost in the middle of his room with no walls on either side, and as it went he made sure to roll up the carpet that was directly underneath. If he had a clean place to work on, somewhere large and flat where he could write out the runes he needed, then there wouldn't be much of a problem. Also if he couldn't get the marks off the floor after some heavy cleaning he could always slide his carpet and bed back over it and sleep none the wiser.
"First we need a clear place, like what I've done. I've got some candles somewhere in here, leftovers from the Halloween party, that you can use to light and set down on the corners of the circle I'm about to draw. If we can get the basic circle copied right from the book then I think we can tackle the rest step by step."
It had never occurred to him to stop and ask what they were doing this for, his excitement over trying something new completely outweighing common sense. He had found some chalk while he was moving his bed, a small package falling out from where he'd stuffed it into the mattress earlier while not wanting to clean, and quickly he took the book from Scyeth's hands and started to copy the intricate lines that formed each rune.
"Okay, now what?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 12:54 pm
Scyeth would have to argue about the 'lucky' comment, having experienced much more than his fair share of misfortune the past few months. But that was neither here nor there, and why bite the hand that was feeding him? The blond moved around as Micajah prescribed and went in search of the candles. There were matches tucked next to the wicks and Scyeth lit the candles one-by-one, failing to notice the way the flame jumped around a little more than they usually would.
He set the candles down like Mica said and watched the younger boy draw intricate runes, intrigued by the process. He was going to have to make sure to remember everything he watched; Scyeth wasn't going to be getting any better lessons than this. And he wasn't going to complain. Micajah was helping him, and help was help. He'd never be able to do this on his own.
"Well, don't we have to get in the circle, or something?" Scyeth asked, tucking blond hair behind his ear. "I thought our energy had to be involved in the spell, or something." He frowned. Not that he would actually know, really, but that was the sort of energy that made the most sense. "Hey, shouldn't you be the one that knows this kinda stuff?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 3:51 pm
"I was mostly checking to see if you'd done any studying before hand. You seemed to eager I thought you might have tried a spell or two out already before you came here to ask me."
Micajah finished the last line and pulled the socks off his feet, letting them be bare so he could have better contact with the rune. He motioned for Scyeth to do the same, tossing his own pair off towards the hamper full of clothes needing to be washed anyway, and he took a step lightly into the ring. While he was doing so he made sure that his feet only touched one spot and he didn't smear anything, since chalk tended to brush away easily, and once he was fully in place he took a deep breath.
"Bring the book in here with you when you step in, and make sure to stay in one spot. If you move we have to get out and I have to redraw everything since even the slightly mar in the circle can cause damage."
He hadn't noticed the way the candles flickered when Scyeth lit them, nor the strange way the flames still seemed to dance as they were set in place. Right now his heart was pounding with too much excitement to think straight despite how calm his face looked and how still his body was standing.
"We may have to hold hands to do this, what with your energy being a lot stronger than mine and me doing the casting. Unless of course you want to read off whatever it says."
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 7:32 pm
Scyeth followed suit and toed off his boots, followed by black socks with little yellow chocobos. Yes, Scyeth really liked his video games. But we digress. The demon followed his friend into the circle and took Micajah's hands, like he asked. The flames leapt, but Scyeth hardly paid it mind. The youth had a tingly sensation running through his blood; when was the last time he was actually nervous about trying something new?
"So, we just try to focus our energy?" he asked, tipping his head to the side as he tried to concentrate. Energy was like that zippy rush he was just thinking about, right? So if he just focused...this wasn't right. Something wasn't right. "Micajah, I-"
The rest of the sentence was lost to a deafening roar. Scyeth had the distinct feeling of heat and pain and then everything just stopped.
"...holy. s**t."
He was hardly able to croak, still stunned from the blast.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 7:47 pm
...since when was there a hole in his wall? Since when couldn't he hear anything? Why was he on his back, and why couldn't he feel parts of his body?
Micajah blinked several times as he tried to sort out all the new changes, though he was hard pressed to think of something after Scyeth's last words involving his name. He could only remember that he was about to reply with 'yes?' when there had been a sudden surge of something, something that had sent him flying backwards into a new level of pain he had never thought possible.
He'd contacted hard with what he thought was his bed, though it turns out it was the dresser that was on the opposite side of the room from where they'd been standing, and as he tried to lift himself up to get a better view he felt something warm start to slide down his face. It started from his eyes, leaking down his cheeks, until he could smell and taste iron just as if he were swishing with a mouthful of dirty coins instead of nothing but air. He tried to swallow what he could, figuring it couldn't be that bad, but when all that happened was more poured over his lips and onto his shirt he knew something was wrong. Very wrong.
There'd been an explosion. He was hurt, to an extent he wasn't sure of, and he didn't know how Scyeth was fairing either.
The blast had torn his hand out of the other teen's, a numbing and burning feeling coming from his wrist down telling him that he either had broken all the bones in his hand or he was missing his hand. Inwardly he was praying to God, to anyone, that it was just broken and not missing. He would be useless without his left hand as it was his dominant one.
"Sc...Sc...."
What started to scare him more than the excessive bleeding and the lack of feeling in many places was that he couldn't speak, couldn't move, and didn't know the whereabouts of the other student. Had...was he...it couldn't have.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 8:01 pm
Scyeth rolled onto his stomach (OW.) before settling on his side, and curling up a little. He had to keep blinking his eyes, everything was kinda blurry and lopsided, and why exactly were his ears ringing like telephones?
...oh, he just blew up, didn't he? Yeah. The force of the blast and thrown him across the room, away from Micajah, and into...well, some item of Micah's furniture. As far as he could tell, the flames were still smoldering (like they really needed another school fire), and his classmate was stuttering something over yonder. Scyeth blinked and rubbed his eyes, only to yowl in pain.
"...holy ******** my arm."
Not again. He'd already dislocated his arm, he didn't need any more damage. Though, come to think, his ankle was absolutely killing him, and everything seemed slightly askew. Scyeth tried to pick himself up off the floor and flopped back down with a thud.
"...Luna spare me," he muttered, looking around for Micajah. "Sorry about your room, dude."
...it seemed like the appropriate thing to say, at the time.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 8:09 pm
A cough came out as Micajah's response, though it sounded like he was laughing as he did. He couldn't asnwer any other way, his body unable to make more than single sounds at a time, and after a moment instead of another cough he did manage an actual chuckle.
It figures. Demons.
The chuckle sounded deep and painful, like it was causing the back of his throat to be scraped each time he did it, and as the wetness in his mouth slid down his throat and into his stomach Micajah honestly wondered if he was going to die. He was staring to feel a bit more, his shoulders burning and the skin where his arms were seemed to feel like it wasn't even on his arms anymore - like all he had left was muscle. He couldn't feel a leg either, probably having landed on it funny when he was thrown backwards, and for some reason the ringing in his ears just wouldn't stop.
". . .sc. . ."
He tried to sit himself up from where he was laying, actually managing to roll himself enough that he could push his way to his knees with his good arm and hand, though he quickly collapsed onto his stomach and banged his chin on the scorched ground.
Not good. Not good.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 8:50 pm
Quentin's steps thundered down the hallway of the dorm for beginning students. He was unfamiliar with the layout, yet even still he knew where to find the disturbance. It was like a popped blood vessel that had ebbed into a simmer of waning power. Easy to follow.
What a bloody fool! He knew the boy to be impatient, but such brash disregard was unacceptable. He was going to get a heinous whomping. His dark face was set stone, barely containing the wrath he was about to lay on this child's feet.
The demon whipped the door open and his frown deepened. "Idiots..." But scorn was not going to fix this. Not yet at least. He could smack them upside their thick little heads when they healed. Quentin stepped lightly over splintered wood and debris, finding Scyeth first. Unsure of the extent of his injuries, he assumed it better not to move him lest he make it worse. "Are you alright...?" It was a dumb question, but simple enough to determine if he was conscious. "You there!" He tossed his damnedable hair from his face, looking to the other boy no doubt coerced into this madness. "Are you hurt? What were you two doing?!" He needed to find a doctor or another to help him move them safely.
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Posted: Sat Nov 15, 2008 8:58 pm
He didn't get a doctor exactly. Instead, he got a large, angry, dangerous-looking redhead who tore down the hall and into the room. Apparently, both new professors disapproved of wanton use of dark magic. Gideon nodded briefly at Quentin as he entered the room, his eyes flashing gold in the quasi-light. "Micajah." His voice was a low thrum, and his eyes had found the boy.
"He's the hurt one. Scyeth will be fine. Quentin Bandersnatch, yes? Gideon Burdock. I work beneath you now, as Head of Research. These boys cannot stay here, I think they will be fine to move." He'd seen many broken bones, and perhaps Micajah's was, indeed. "I'll carry this one." Stupid, stupid children. "That was powerful magic. Find the source?" The book, find the book and the spell... He was seething, but their safety came first...
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