"You are not a little boy anymore, dazzled by my magic. It is your magic, now, too."
And, for the first time, Ezreal could really believe it. His eyes were still as blue as they had ever been, but they sparkled now with something like amusement and even desire. The blood that hovered above his palm was his this time -- not that of an unfortunate animal that had passed by. The fact that he’d drawn it and then managed to wield it like his father meant something.
And that thought makes him smile, wide and gleaming, up at the man who’d taken him in as family and taught him everything he knew now. This was his life now, after all, and it was a good one. This was progress like never before, but somehow the child wasn’t satisfied yet -- he wanted more progress, more growth, and more praise. As the blood bubbled and swirled above his hand, all Ezreal could think of was how he wanted to get even better.
“Yeah!” He declared, and as if that was more concentration than someone his age could expend, the bubble popped, and crimson dribbled through his fingers. His smile faltered, dropped, and then returned in full-force, along with a whole bout of childish giggles. “Our magic.”
