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bluiex · 2 years ago

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HELLO BLUIE i have finished the second book in the carry on trilogy (those fantasy gay ya books i may have mentioned idk it's been a minute) and i've been thinking a lot abt how magic works in that world + scarian

(for context: that universe's magical spells aren't written by mages (mage = wizard basically) they're created by Normals, aka Speakers, aka non-magical people. based on how common a phrase is (and depending on regional changes) gives the words strength. anything from a children's nursery rhyme to a very popular song lyric can be a spell, if enough people can recognize the words.) (also while wands are a thing, magical heirlooms can also be used to cast spells, but you can't perform Spoken magic without a vessel of sorts like a wand, etc.)

that being said, have this: "I told you, I'm fine Scar," Grian muttered, wincing at the gentle prodding from the other against his rib cage. Part of his sweater had been torn away in the scuffle, and the exposed skin had seen better days, an open gash slowly weeping blood into the dirtied, broken ground. They had survived by the skin of their teeth once again, and Grian wondered when their luck would run out. Surely they wouldn't be able to run forever; the Watcher would catch them, bleed them of their magic like a vampire does a measly rat, and leave them abandoned in a world of Normals, a world that neither of them were built to survive in. Bleed them dry, like Grian was bleeding out right now on a shattered roadside. Really, if it weren't for spelling himself near empty, he would have magicked himself better by now. Or at least tried to. Healing was his specialty after all (even if explosions and fiery messes seemed to follow him wherever he ran.) And poor Scar was no medic. Healing always came clumsily to him, keen to cook something homemade and non-magickal and wait for time to take its course. His gift was in never going dry; Scar always had one more spell to cast, one final burst of magic up his sleeve that always help change the tide of a rough fight. He was the muscle, and Grian was the healer.

But here they were, caught on a bad day and magic running low, in the middle of an abandoned country road after having just barely survived a hoard of vampires, and there was no time to rest.

Scar did his best to bring his magic back up, willing that familiar, buzzing feeling of power that usually was a constant in his chest, but at best he felt soap bubbles: flimsy, thin, weak. His single earring worn from his left lobe, a dangling, pure silver feather, flickered a ghastly, muted blue color.

"There's just no time to die," he whispered. A feeble spell on a good day. Grian let out a small groan; the bleeding continued. "...Eilish? Billie Eilish? Really?" "You know I'm not good at this, it was the first one that came to mind!" Scar ranted, chewing on his lip trying to put words together and push them from his mouth. "I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums," and that at least stopped the blood up, Grian's heart picking up the pace, though the wound was still open. There was something surreal about Ke$ha saving his boyfriend's life. With a hiss in Grian's teeth, and his wand clutched tight in his fist, "I am not afraid to keep on living," was uttered, and his face was flushed with fresh blood, materialized out of a place neither wanted to think about right now. "My Chem never fails me," Grian sighed. Finally stabilized somewhat, Scar took the risk of scooping Grian into his arms, ignoring his pained yelps, carrying him back to their car, gingerly setting him down in the back seat. This was made easy by the fact that one of the side doors was completely missing, a casualty of the fight. "Full of ecstasy and fire," Scar tried, and Grian loudly complained of his nauseatingly sudden fever, the tremor in his voice offsetting his frustrations. "Sorry, sorry! The cold never bothered me anyway!" Usually a spell for avoiding frostbite, but somehow Scar's jumbled magic turned the words icy, just enough to cool Grian down. "Ugh," Scar grumbled, looking down miserably at his boyfriend, watching his shallow breaths and glazed over eyes try to stay awake. They were both so, so tired, but Scar couldn't leave him like this. "Turn back time," he murmured, pinching his eyes shut. "Change the course of this history."

Grian's eyes lazily drifted over to Scar, and he used all his strength to actual focus on what he was doing. "Lean back, lean back and breathe," he tried, "You are the angel I couldn't kill." A surge of sharp warmth went to Grian's wound, as though millions of little cells were piecing themselves back together at max speed. "I wanna feel like a person again." Weak spells knotted themselves together to make a stronger one, healing Grian with limited success.

"Scar, what're you....?" A distant set of headlights rolled over the hill.

"Just the two of us," Scar hissed, and the car they huddled in faded into nothingness to the passing eye. Back to his haphazard healing he went. "Soft skin, soft lips," failed the first time, it took a few hushed repeats for the growing scarred area over Grian's side to begin to soften, the dark mark becoming ever so slightly lighter. "Just a little bit more..."

"Scar, stop it." The man looked like as though he were on the verge of passing out, kneeling over Grian's own tired form with a hand bracing himself against the car seat. He was spelling himself to death, and Grian couldn't stand it. "Be satisfied, it's all you have," he muttered darkly, Scar's words were more slurred than anything, and it meant his spells did nothing but force him to scrape against an empty barrel for any final drop of power. His magic was being stripped down into nothing but dust at this rate, but he wasn't satisfied. If it wasn't for Scar, neither of them would be in this situation. They wouldn't be thousands of miles away from anything familiar and safe. They wouldn't be on the run, the forces of good and evil both close on their heels. Were they even "good" anymore, with how much death had followed them? But they weren't evil either, turning away from quick escapes and easy outs in favor for the morally sane path. Scar didn't know anymore. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Grian should be safe in the United Kingdom right now, finishing his final exams right about now. He should be having a warm cup of tea, curled up by a fireplace, wondering what career he would finally decide on. And Scar should still be alone in America, his berserk magic still burning holes into his hands and making his chest feel fuzzy, but at least it would only be him being burned alive. It would be him, in the lawless West, bleeding and burning and alive all alone.

"You're starting to feel like home," Grian croaked, and some of Scar's anxiety faded to a simmer. It was still present, but magickally stifled, like a candle with its flame choked out. "G, you're still hurt, knock it off," Scar grumbled, but Grian pressed on, whispers of familiar spells heavy on his lips. "I used to build dreams about you," he tried, hoping to lull Scar to sleep. It certainly convinced the other to scoot in next to Grian, at least. Both were slightly uncomfortable sitting up in their fatigued states, but it beats standing. "And you're dead tired, spell me later when you're back to full," Grian chided him, quick to lean up against him now that his side was nearly half way healed. "If the world was ending, you'd come over right?" "You don't need to spell me to stay, Gri," Scar mumbled, unsure if it was magic or his own exhaustion pulling his eyes closed. "Makes me feel better if I do," Grian yawned in response. "Now I know when I wake up, you'll still be here." "There's nowhere else I'd want to be," Scar replied, and that at least he was dead certain was the truth. Cross my heart, and hope to die, that was the promise they'd made to one another, right? Grian was humming a song to himself. It wasn't a spell, the music itself, the melody not easily picked up by Scar's ears. The words he was sure to know, but Grian hummed, his reservoir of magic slowly filling back up.

As Scar drifted off, he vaguely heard the spell from the music Grian was humming. "Don't look too hard, 'cause you won't like the scars he left in me."

He wondered for which one of them the words were for. -☾

*clutches my heart* this is amazing. im going ot have to look up those books, I love the idea of word magic, using well known phrases- lyrics- w/e, and them being magic. AND YOU WROTE THIS SO GOOD JUST OUHJGHGBHG STGJHDK cresent moon anon- *hugs* you're a gem

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post #scarian ficlet

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