#gubbin

As a legally blind wizard, I often forget there exists anything beyond my work. I specify legally blind, because magic has a way of gifting me with loopholes. I specify wizard because mages in general tend to become engrossed to a point of living and breathing magic. 

Thus being a mage is the thing responsible for making me forget I’m living on a planet with other creatures. For most patients of wizard syndrome, this obsession with magic often manifests in the form of sprawling home libraries and dreaming of enchantment formulae. In my case, exclusively dreaming in enchantment formulae, and a kitchen being tactically invaded by bookshelves. Those manifestations of wizard syndrome I can deal with. 

But throw me outside the realm of magic, and it’s as though anomalies have been sent into my path just to confuse me. The reason why I am phasing through this fireplace again is the most recent anomaly I have come across.

I felt the pull of space and time before I felt the pull of fire, a familiar sensation of magical vertigo that can only be described as dizziness on the metaphysical level. I try not to think too hard about it; I get headaches if I do, and it ruins the humor of deploying into someone’s home like a demented corruption of Saint Nick.

My immaterial disorientation increased as I slowly rejoined the physical plane. My sense of body began to return, skewered, buzzing back and forth between flickering warmth and the liquid, free-flowing nebulousness of being nothing. Then the magic vertigo imploded, collapsing in on itself and becoming a tiny pinprick in the back of my awareness.

I was abruptly aware of the resumption of reality, a blanket of heat dropping from my shoulders and drifting behind me. Most likely fire that remained from my unorthodox traveling method.

As I started to feel my body again, my quasi vision returned, courtesy of my almost-but-not-quite-vestigial eyes. What ever would I do without the ability to perceive blobs of color?

“Oh, good! You made it.” I shifted my faulty ocular organs to pretend to observe one such blob, though this one moves, talks, and defies everything I thought I knew about people. For example, I could’ve sworn said people were normally put off by aspects of living flame.

“I really don’t understand why you keep hiring me, Miss Fenwick.” Too little, too late I realize what I said sounded very different than what I intended by it. Faex.

I could hear her feet shuffle against the floor, hear the rustle of clothing and feel the shift of air in the room. It was quick, jittery, of surprise or being thrown off. Double faex.

“I - oh. Do you have other things you need to do?” Triple faex! Triple faex!

“You misunderstand.” I tried to map out my surroundings, more specifically her, with my magic. The energy rose up lazily, in my chest, then fizzled. Too soon after porting, then.

I walked forward, paying particular attention to the movement of air around the room to hopefully avoid collision with any unexpected objects.

“What I meant was...” An ill-timed, biting prickle formed around my nostrils. I sniffed reflexively, and as cold air flooded into my nose the prickling spread to the inside.

Right, temperature changes. Ironic, considering generating heat or cold was my specialty as a mage, seated comfortably between the alignments of ice and fire.

I sawed a knuckle back and forth beneath my nose, which alleviated the tickle around my nostrils, but did very little to help the icy trail already migrating inside my sinuses. It felt like I’d snorted peppermint or something.

“I hardly made a stellar impression when first we met.” I listened after I finished speaking. I was just close enough to hear her breathing. If she noticed my nasal distress, I did not detect any indication in the rhythm of her breath.

Who am I kidding, of course she noticed. A bear scratching itself on the sofa would be more discreet than me.

“I suppose you’re right, my first session with you was not what most would consider ideal.” Eliza giggled, lighthearted. She had taken to doing that, along with other small sounds, to indicate her emotions clearly.

The frozen prickly sensation reached up to the back of my nose, causing my breath to flutter in my breast for a moment.

While I had grown decently skilled at maintaining thoughts in the middle of sneeze-limbo, speech was its’ own matter entirely. I hummed softly in agreement, and regretted it a little when the vibrations traveled through my face and provoked another sharp tickle from my nose. I pinched the bridge and rubbed.

“Hhh - hold on.” The rubbing was helping, fighting off the secondary itch and soothing the icy feeling somewhat. 

I don’t know why it helps, maybe it helps only because I think it does. Either way, it’s generally safer for me than scrubbing a knuckle against the side of my nose. Bump one of those sensitive nerves inside the wrong way and-

“Hehh!”

 A phantom reaction, nearly overpowering the primarily icy feeling that’s been taunting me. For a moment, I’m certain I can feel one of my overactive nasal nerves being gently tweaked. Just my imagination, but…

“EEH’tssSCHUuh!” 

That knowledge doesn’t make it feel less real, least of all to my nose, which still felt annoyed by the colder air. Truth be told, sometimes it seems it would be better if I didn’t think during sneeze-limbo.

“Bless you.” Eliza’s voice, forward, to the right. I’ve worked with her, what, four or five times now? Hasn’t she gotten tired of saying that?

“Thank you.” Though I don’t have room to talk, with how often I thank her for it. For the sake of manners if nothing else. Funny, I’ve never cared much about manners before.

“You were saying?” Prompted the scholar.

What was I saying again? Oh, right, anomalies.

“I just don’t understand why. After such an impression, and after I proved so troublesome.”

“Do you need to understand?”

For the sole purpose of ensuring my deadpan look was on target, I tried to feel the room with my magic again, and succeeded. I now knew precisely where she was, exactly how many centimeters she was from me, and I turned to her.

“I would like to.” I said, now that my expression was aimed. Even a blind man can’t deny the power a well directed facial expression has. Nice to know I’m immune to them.

“For one, you demonstrated a working knowledge of the Fomorians, and were able to do as requested with little to no input from me.”

 I felt the desire to melt into the nearest wall. I can’t take compliments, they put me on the spot and I don’t know how to react to them beyond painfully awkward gratitude. Still, I asked, she was answering. Or trying to.

“Second, you were able to neutralize a dangerous enchantment while under its’ effects.” Most of that sentence wasn’t her own words. No non-mage describes the use of glyphs so clearly, so matter of fact. Likely taken from some egghead better at explaining things than me. If it wasn’t her own words it wasn’t going to answer any of my curiosities. I stopped her with a question.

“I am useful to you, and for that you put up with my eccentricities?” I felt her pause, and her heartbeat increase, through my magic. It was much easier to read what she was feeling when I had more than sound to work with.

“I- No that’s not it.” A sigh. I made my sensory field more precise. I felt her expression, a furrowed brow, and the blood in her veins moving up to her head. Her larynx made slight, nearly undetectable movements. She was thinking, putting thoughts and words together.

Her heartbeat increased again, an excited jump. I felt her breathe in, felt her vocal cords moving beyond barely existing twitches. I relaxed my sensory field to hear her speak.

“You are concerned that the-“ she paused to think of a word, “-circumstances of your first impression have made me think less of you?”

Someone could have thrown a fireball into my face and I’d be less stupefied. This nagging unease that had been pestering me for weeks now, infuriating that I could not name the nature of it, and the scholar pinned it down just like that.

“Yes.” What else could I say to someone who just described my own emotions to myself?

“What part of it concerns you?” Propter futuo!

“Divines strike me down.” I groaned, failing to contain my exasperation.

“Shall we start with how I was barely able to perform my job the entire time?”

“A job you completed regardless. Though the aftermath was chaotic.” I felt a shiver jump up my spine. My life would be filled with that much more happiness if I never encountered Fomorian magic ever again.

“Chaotic is how you describe having a mana-exhausted wizard stranded on your couch?” Chaos did not begin to describe the mortifying spectacle of sneezing for over half an hour in front of a client. Adding insult to injury, I’d been too exhausted to phase through the hearth back home, despite being careful not to spend all my energy on the suppressing glyph. It made a joke of my magical career in one night, and yet here I was.

Her shoes tapped rhythmically, gravitating closer. The air shifted, accommodating the movements accordingly.

“It is how I would describe it, provided it does not offend.” No matter what word she chose the events would bother me.

“It does not.” That feeling of unease thrashed in my stomach. “But I find it difficult to believe having a stranger rest on your furniture does not harm your perception of them.” I raced to stretch my sensory field back out, searching for a response. There were no clues in her heart rate, nor her breathing, no startled lurch in either to indicate my presumption was correct.

“You’re not exactly a stranger anymore.” I felt and heard her pick up a monstrous book, taking it into her arms before approaching. The air whipped around again, hitting my chin and face. The frosty prickle reappeared, demanding. Ugh.

“True. But at the time…” I squinted as the sneeze grew. Twice. It was always at least twice when it came to temperature changes. An oddly specific quirk.

“Again?” Yes, again, damned itch. I moved my head to the side, flush with my shoulder.

“HeehhH’TSSCHOO!” For the most part, my nose had decided to finally accept the fact the air of the rest of the room was colder than the fire I’d come in from. I allotted another rub, just to ensure it would keep to its standard of two sneezes.

“Bless you. Better?” I nodded and tried not to make a strange face at her. I still was not used to my sneezing being casually commented on.

“You were saying?” A few little brownies in my head scavenged for the last train of thought I’d had.

“At the time I was a stranger, even if it is not the case now.”

“Irrelevant. You are a regular consultant, not someone I saw once under unusual circumstances.”

Huh. Maybe she had a point, I was probably overthinking this. Maybe over time I’d forget about it, but for now it was going to bug me.

“Of all the ways to acquire a recurring client, I didn’t think sleeping on their couch was one of them.” She laughed.

“You wouldn’t think so, but I’d say it’s worked out.”

“Apparently.” And as a result I was in bizarre new territory. “I’ve never had a regular client before.” Another laugh.

“I thought so.” She said, amusement clear in her tone. I’m becoming obvious. Maybe I should phase through the stove next time. Next time. What a strange thought. It was nice though, to know there was always a change of pace after a more dangerous job. Mercenaries are a pain to work with, let alone to work as one.