★— ⋆｡˚ [Crossroads]
For Day 24 of Carry on Countdown 23, Cross. @carryon-countdown
In which Simon is an actual half-dragon and he's found himself in a bit of a situation with a certain human mage. What's a familiar even supposed to do anyway?
This part is rated T, mostly just for the language.
Prior Parts: 9, 15, & 18
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They were at a crossroads. Apparently, there was a lot of magick nestled in crosswords. Baz had explained it some along the way here, but Simon hadn’t really absorbed it all so much. That was fine, this was just introductory. Basil had said Simon didn’t need to remember anything and everything he said about magick anyway.
So here they were, standing at a crossroads, a fairly quiet one it seemed. “It’s not the most powerful we could’ve gone to, but we won’t be disturbed here.” Apparently a more travelled crossroad could store more potential, reach more depths, or something of the like. Simon was trying to pay attention, really he was.
Simon still wasn’t sure what it was they were going to do by being here. Baz was already drawing out chalk circles on the ground in some kind of cryptic obsessive-compulsive pattern. It sort of looked like something that would show up on a late-night BBC documentary about “the corrupted youth.”
He looked over to Basil again.
Yeah, he could have definitely be the face of the corrupted youth. No, maybe not in the traditional way or the way you’d expect. He wore his blazer and shirt and tie all neat and nicely, but his long black as pitch hair slicked back in a short pony and an ears full of golden piercings, his nails painted black… yeah, he could be the corrupted youth. If you looked close enough.
Simon inched closer to those meticulously drawn circles, careful not to disturb them as he squinted down at them. “We’re not summoning some kind of demon are we?”
Basil took a moment to look properly aghast at Simon, pausing his meticulous drawings. “Of bloody course not. That would be insane. It’s barely your first day as a familiar.”
“Oh,” Simon hesitated, “Does that mean we might eventually?”
Basil snorted a sort of half-a-laugh, “Not if we can avoid it. I’d prefer not to lose my soul being reckless like that.”
“Well that’s a bloody relief–”
“We’re banishing one,” Baz interrupted as he puts the finishing touches on his circles, glyphs really, and stands. He claps the dust from his palms and stands himself up outside of the design, circling it and checking his work over.
“I’m sorry, what?” Simon blinked over at Basil, the colour draining from his face, “What happened to it being my first day as a familiar?”
Baz waved his hand dismissively, nose pointed up, “This is easy work. I could do this on my own, in it’s entirety, and I have before. You’ll make it easier though. Just stand…” Baz stepped over to Simon and guides him to a particular point on the design, the eastern side, if Simon wasn’t getting himself mixed up. “Here. Don’t move, don’t break the lines, just hands on the ground on either side of the point and…” the explanation sort of broke up for a moment, “Actually, how do you access your magick, usually?”
Simon settled himself as Baz had described. He didn’t really know too much magick, let alone how to do it well, or even consistently, for that matter. “Accidentally?” He finally admitted.
Baz didn’t answer right away, correcting Simon’s hands only slightly before stepping around to the opposite point of the circle. “How do you go about your little… shape change? Is that not magick?”
“Kind of?” Simon didn’t really know how he did that either, “I think it’s mostly instinct.”
“Alright, well,” Baz shrugged, “Reach for that instinct then. Find whatever little thing that makes you shift and just, I suppose, touch it. Try and touch it without switching shapes.”
Simon’s gaze stayed fixed to that corner for a long while, long enough that the silence between them got a little awkward, that the air between them got a little stale, that Baz started to get a little impatient.
“Think you can manage?”
“Oh, right,” Simon scrunched up his nose and concentrated, thinking about that feeling that came right before the switch, “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”
“Grand,” Basil planted his own hands the same way Simon’s were, just opposite of him, “Just hold on to that feeling. I’m starting now.”
Before Simon could confirm he’d heard or understood, Baz was speaking. Well, Simon thought it was speaking, but it was definitely in a tongue he’d never heard before and it didn’t feel human. It felt heavy and thick and dark and Baz’s eyes had gone black in the sclera, but Simon didn’t have time to think about that either. He had to keep his mind on that feeling, that little… okay, maybe not so little, orb of energy that caused his shifts. It was warm in his mind and if he thought about it hard enough he could roll it around in his palms, like a small sun, but it wasn’t so scorching like this.
When the demon came through in middle of the glyphs Baz had arranged, it was a whole dramatic affair, or it certainly seemed that way to Simon. It was… a bit beyond direct perception, a swirling mass of dark energy and wispy smoke. The area immediately surrounding them had definitely grown hotter and the cement under Simon’s palms was notably more uncomfortable to the touch, but he didn’t move his palms away.
He did his best to remain as Baz had put him, despite the sweat pooling in the small of his back. It had gotten harder to maintain that connection with his miniature personal ball of sunshine now that the demon had found itself here.
And then the demon spoke.
Simon fumbled the ball in his mind’s eye and his shape slipped from one to the other like water rushing down from the apex of a waterfall. His wings fluttered behind him at the swiftness of the change, tail stretching out on instinct as his body adjusted, but his claws, even as small as they were comparatively to his human shape had managed to stay solid in that same spot.
Thank Merlin and Morgana and every other mage to come before. He ignored the pure power contained in that voice and focused to pull this orb back into focus. There was no sludge running over his ears, only this sun in his palms, only the magick of it flowing through him.
It was speaking the same tongue that Basil was using, but Basil remained unphased, only focusing harder on his incantation, his brows knit together with effort and sweat starting to bead down the back of his perfect neck. Simon couldn’t help but be taken with his unflappable aura for a moment, impressed by his sheer will to remain unwavering when faced with such a thing as the demon caught between them.
Simon redoubled his efforts to hold that little ball of energy, pulsing brighter the longer Baz chanted. He prayed he hadn’t fucked anything up too hard for Baz when he’d shifted. He also didn’t want to lose his soul to some reckless act within a day of finally finding a steady source of food.
At least in this shape, there was no sweat to gather down his spine and his palms didn’t ache so much. Simon’s wings fanned gently to keep him cool and he allowed himself to concentrate on Basil’s calm repetitions over the oil-slick wet feeling that came with the demon’s words.
Almost as suddenly as the demon appeared, the ground under it fell away.
There was a large whooshing noise.
And then the demon was gone too.
The road reconstructed itself in between the two of them and then everything fell quiet.
Simon stayed poised until Baz moved. Basil stood slowly, dusting his hands off again, and fetched the bucket of water he’d left aside. He poured it over the now sizzling sigils, burned of their power (Simon had no idea how or why he knew that), and that’s when Simon allowed himself to move. He trotted over to Baz’s side and headbutted his calf.
It was as close as he could manage to a ‘good job’ without words.
“Oh,” Baz looked down at him, “You shifted.”
Simon let out a small trill of confirmation and then Baz’s nose started bleeding.
“Oh,” Baz said again, catching the blood in his open palm, and Simon could see he was moving too slowly, that his balance was starting to go, “It seems I over-exerted myself.”
