#shi-woo's hand gave me so much trouble !!!

[crescentmoonrider]

shiguruma kissies plsssss <3

corruption

there's our mens !! love drawing Shi-woo causing problems on purpose hehe

i don't really have a clear idea of the context here, but i figure it's something shady where Higuruma accidentally stepped into something waayyyy too big for his paygrade. and also Shi-woo is there. doing a little scheming, as he does

[15001700tt]

Descendants of the Moon

Death by Redbull and Whiskey

Descendants of the Moon Masterlist

word count: 2,755

Tag list: @chastja  @multi-fan-trash @serpentityx @syublush

Dm me if you want to be on the tag list!

Key: Italics- things that happened in the drama but do not old any importance to the story line

Key: Bold- Dialogue said in the Drama

Episode 4:

“We have to move the bed” Mo Yeon informed him. The bodyguards told them another warning which Shi Jin ignored.

“From this moment forward, protecting the medical team and the patient is our first and foremost duty” Shi Jin informed the team.

“Team, line up in front of the guns,” he instructed, Dae Young and Gwang Nam moved speedily while Yoo Ji followed Gwang Nam’s tail. 

“From now on, I give you permission to shoot any threat that comes our way” Shi Jin commanded.

“You better know exactly what you’re doing” the bald bodyguard, who seemed like he was in charge.

“You do your job, the doctor will save this patient” Shi Jin assured him while lifting one corner of his mouth.

“We’re moving him now” Mo Yeon interrupted their conversation. She gripped the bed and started to push, Shi Jin moved, still pointing the gun at the bald man, they started to rotate their position, until Alpha team stood in between the guards and the medical team. 

Mo Yeon looked back to catch Yoo Ji’s eyes, Yoo Ji gave her an assuring head nod, that they’ll be fine. 

They were inside the operating room, and the tension outside didn't seem to evaporate but become tenser. Yoo Ji could hear Shi Jin’s superior yelling in the earpiece Gwang Nam had.

“You crazy bastards! Stop right now!” Colonel’s voice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Yoo Ji’s eyes flickered from between Shi Jin to the guard. 

“Why isn’t anyone answering me?” his voice sounded with anger, it was the last thing Seo Dae Young heard from the Colonel, he guessed he was making his way to the Medi-Cube to neutralize the situation. Dae Young glanced at Yoo Ji as she watched the men from behind Gwang Nam, Colonel will be furious if he finds out a civilian was put in danger because of the Alpha team not following orders.

“Because of you bastards we’ve been issued an FPCON CHARLIE, anyone that can hear me communicate with Captain Yoo Shi Jin that there will be consequences” Colonel’s voice came in one last time, Dae Young glanced at his friend but said nothing.

Yoo Ji listened as Shi Jin and the bodyguard conversed. She watched their moves like a hawk, her grip still tight on Gwang Nam’s sides. He didn't seem to mind, she was omitting warmth. Shi Jin said something lowkey sarcastic and she couldn't believe that he would do that, sure she would because it’s her but Shi Jin seems to be the type to joke around but when it comes to business he’s serious.

Chi Hoon unlatched the locked door and ran into the supply room. The men never broke eye contact. They heard a distant noise from outside, it seems that the Arab doctor had finally arrived, Yoo Ji felt her fingers relax a little. 

Thirty minutes after the doctor had arrived they finally brought out the patient, the Arab doctor immediately checked his vitals and his condition. 

“Seems like all of the surgical operations went well,” he said with distaste to Mo Yeon and Sang Hyun as if he wanted them to get in trouble. 

“It would’ve been better if I had the right chart” Mo Yeon quipped. 

“Well, the patient still needs to wake up to call the surgery a success.” he snapped back, Sang Hyun looked at Mo Yeon with disbelief, Chi Hoon gave out a sigh.

“I’d still be worried if I were you” he added giving them a stink eye. 

“If I just sat around and worried and did nothing, you would have a dead body now,”

“He could still die!” he bit back. 

It was decided that Song Sang Hyun and the Arab doctor would stay behind and wait for the President to wake up. A little boy that was getting treated from lead poisoning had entered the room without being noticed by the dazed doctors. He said something in his native language, immediately a guard seized him and pushed him back, it was then that Mo Yeon decided to go back from her food break.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. 

Her question went unanswered as the President had opened his eyes. The Arab doctor quickly went to check if he was responding to light and to his questions, the whole room felt like it released a collective sigh. Sang Hyun and Jae Ae went to get fresh air, they were relieved they weren’t going to die or get sued. To a doctor, getting sued is worse than death. They were with Chi Hoon and Min Ji and that’s how Yoo Ji found them, Sang Hyun laying his head on the table being dramatic while Ha Jae looked at him with disinterest. Chi Hoon and Min Ji just smiled at Yoo Ji.

Everything started settling down, Yoo Ji took this chance to finally chill out and get some writing done in the common room. She reflected on what happened in the last few days. Shi Jin got put under solitary confinement in the storage room, and Dae Young had to leave for Korea. Yoo Ji thought back on how unjust their superior is, she couldn't believe her own country’s leaders were willing to throw Mo Yeon under the bus like that. But then again diplomatic matters and the way they handle politics is way different from her dive-in approach. 

Mo Yeon looked in distress, even after the patient woke up, she really was put in such a tense situation. She looked desperate when she asked Yoo Ji if she knew where Dae Young was. Yoo Ji guessed she wanted to speak to Shi Jin. After a few minutes, she returned with puffy red eyes, she weakly smiled at Yoo Ji and went straight to her bunker. 

The whole base felt so much lighter once the VIP left, it was a weight on their shoulders they couldn’t shake off. 

“How are you feeling?” Gwang Nam examined Yoo Ji, flipping the chair so he would sit on it backward.

“I think I broke my fingers” she responded, flexing her fingers with a grimace, her hand had cramped up from gripping Gwang Nam’s clothes. 

“Better break your fingers than get shot in the head” he smiled. Their aura had changed after that tension in the Medi-Cube. She had admitted to herself that he was attractive already, (she would be lying if she didn't) but there was something more. She enjoyed his company, he was very quirky and fun to be around, he was also passionate about his job and friends. Yoo Ji did have some thoughts about what kind of man she would like and every time she imagined him, his image would cultivate to be Gwang Nam’s. This started right after she met him at the bar in Urk. he was kind, observant and loyal. 

“I didn't know you spoke Arabic” he stated, leaning forward against the chair. Yoo Ji’s breath caught before she cleared her throat and responded.

“It was faster to learn a language than try to guess what they’re saying” she explained, trying to avoid his gaze.

A part of her felt flattered and almost giddy that he was paying so much attention to her but the bigger and much more logical part of her told her that she didn't want him to figure her out. He was slowly finding out more about her while she got no new information on him other than what she already knows. And he never confirmed all her suspicions, intentionally or not. She felt that it was unfair, so she started pulling up her walls. He can’t find out everything about her while she's still fishing for information about him.

Gwang Nam could tell she got lost in her thoughts, but when she came back, she had a look on her face that made him uneasy. She wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, he didn't think it was from embarrassment. 

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really spacey lately” he asked her in concern.

“Oh! uh yeah! I am fine, I just remembered Mo Yeon needed to speak to me” she excused, it was a lie, a bad one too. Gwang Nam wanted to protest but she hurriedly assembled her notebook and laptop and hurried towards the rooms. Gwang Nam said there for a couple more minutes, he expected Yoo Ji to be a better liar, and she is, which baffled him. She didn't even go through with her lie, she went the opposite way of Mo Yeon’s room. 

Woo Geun and Cheol Ho walked into the common room to get a snack.

“Why are you sitting alone?” Woo Geun asked the pensive man sitting down. 

“I think… I just made Yoo Ji blush” he paused before looking at his friend with a spark in his eyes. 

“No way!” Cheol Ho wheezed. 

The next day, she sat down in the same place and started writing again, when the boys came in with a commotion.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re releasing Captain Yoo,” 

“Why?” she questioned. Deliberately avoiding eye contact with Gwang Nam, he watched her as she squirmed under his gaze. He didn't know if he could get used to a shy Yoo Ji.

“They’re claiming that the surgery never happened, they’re deleting any evidence of it” Gwang Nam answered.

“Which means that he can’t be punished over something he didn't do”  Kibum gleamed. Yoo Ji smiled at the younger boy’s excitement. 

“Aw, man! That means I can’t post the article I wrote yesterday” she groaned, peeking at their reactions. It was hilarious, she had figured that the two leaders and Cheol Ho, Woo Geun and Gwang Nam were in the special forces, and that means that they can’t be exposed to the public.

“You did what?” Woo Geun asked; if Yoo Ji was anyone other than herself, she would’ve been intimidated by him. Even then she felt a small pang of fear, she swallowed it.

“I am kidding, of course, I didn’t” she rolled her eyes as she saw the boys sigh in relief. 

“They won’t know its true if I say it's fiction” she winked. Gwang Nam fake glared at her, which made her blush. She was scolding herself in her head when Kibum caught her attention. 

“I plan to make him a celebratory dinner, want to help?” he excitedly asked Yoo Ji. she nodded and cleaned up her stuff, she’ll do anything to get her mind off of the tall man behind her and the horrible thoughts that soon accompany them. 

A few hours later and instead of dinner, they prepared a feast. Shi Jin was lead to the dining room and sat down on the chair. 

“What is this?” Shi Jin stared at the food in disbelief. 

“It’s to celebrate your release” Ki Bum beamed. 

“None of you stopped this? Huh?” 

“You spent two days in prison” Kibum continued trying to explain himself. Yoo Ji had to hold herself from bursting out in laughter, she did let out a small snort. Shi Jin looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“You think this is funny?” 

“Hilarious” she responded cheekily. 

“She helped him” Woo Geun informed Shi Jin

“Tattletale” Yoo Ji fake hissed. Woo Geun shook his head and brought out a protein snack.

“You two were just saved by Sergeant Choi right now:” Shi Jin fake scolded. 

Shi Jin broke his serious facade and let an easy smile grace his face as he spoke to his team, congratulating them for doing a good job at being collected when things were going crazy. He told them to enjoy their meal, the soldiers started cheering, making Yoo Ji smile at their rowdiness. 

Mo Yeon’s loud steps were heard as she hurried over to the dining room to stop right in the middle and catch all 15 soldiers and Yoo Ji’s attention. She froze and looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was hilarious.

She turned around and went to walk back, Shi Jin stopped asking her where she was going when she just arrived.

“Aren’t you here to see me?” he examined her facial expressions. 

“Later! Enjoy your meal” she squeaked, trying to make her not-so-swift exit.

“No, we can talk now” he made his way towards her and led her outside, she glanced back and noticed Yoo Ji grinning at her and 14 soldiers looking at her with smiles on her face. Yoo Ji thought she should make her exit now since she didn't have anything to distract her from the soldier staring straight at her soul. 

They go to the city and he gets the call about his friend’s death and then they go back to the base and its the next morning when Mo Yeon asks about Shi Jin about it and goes to look for him at the main base and they get into a fight.

Yoo Ji knew that the soldiers start their morning run around 4:30 in the morning and end at 6:00 so she planned to use that time to get some writing and some articles edited. She made her favorite drink, coffee with chocolate. Weird combination, she knows but it was two of her favorite things combined and they helped her wake up in the morning with a nice caffeinated sugar rush. 

She knew he wouldn’t be able to distract her and neither would the girls from the medical team since they were too busy ogling at the shirtless soldiers. 

Yoo Ji sighed as she hit another plot hole, she was in a beautiful country that provided so much inspiration and creativity and yet she was hitting a writer’s block at every corner, it didn't help she wasn’t getting enough sleep either because of her nightmares. 

“You’ve been staring at the computer screen for 10 minutes” Gwang Nam’s voice pointed from behind her. Her eyes darted to the top right of the screen to check the time, 5:45, well damn, she thought she had more time. She cleared her throat and gave a small sarcastic smile. 

“I am meditating” Yoo Ji snapped

“Really?” he smiled squinting his eyes at her, her face looked more pale, her eyes had dark bags underneath them.

“No…but this is helping,” she said, taking a sip from her cup, rolling her eyes at his teasing.

“What is it?” he questioned. 

“Coffee with chocolate and sprinkled little marshmallows on top” she described her deliciously diabetic drink

“Sounds bizarre” he scrunched his nose, Yoo Ji shrugged and offered her cup to him.

“Try it,” she notices, he was really close to her, he was sitting next to her. He shook his head. Yoo Ji shrugged again, trying to seem nonchalant but inside she was very jittery, the drink doing its job and Gwang Nam’s proximity making her feel as if she just chugged a red bull with whiskey, which isn’t far from her mixed drink.

“Your loss” He raises an eyebrow at her and leans closer, lifting her chin with his index and brushing his lips against hers. Light, breezy. Calm, unlike her beating heart. He pulled back and licked his lips.

“Too sweet” he scrunches his nose. 

“Are you sure? Have another taste” Yoo Ji’s quiet voice cut through the silence. Gwang Nam thought she would hit him, to be honest, but he was glad she said that because he was going to do that anyway. 

She turned to face him and inched closer, he wasn't lying, the drink was too sweet but her lips were heavenly. 

Yoo Ji was so shocked her brain literally threw her rational part of the brain, she literally thought, ‘Nope you’re gone, this feels too good to keep denying it’. She saw Gwang Nam’s surprise and felt a pang of fear, but as soon as he smiled and leaned in again that feeling dissipated.

He tasted of mint, his hot breath fanned against her face. He was slightly sweaty from his morning run, but he didn't smell.

They made out for a few more minutes when they realixzed that they were still in the common room, where anyone could walk in on them. Yoo Ji chuckled nervously, not believing she just made out with Gwang Nam. She backed away and scurried back to her room, leaving Gwang Nam once again in shock.  She just ran away from him… again.

Yoo Ji scolded herself for not thinking this through and she knew she won’t be able to sleep at all that night, her nerves are all jumbled up and the headaches would start soon.

Time lapse to night 

The kiss between Mo Yeon and Si Jin happens

[ephrampettaline]

google doc with @thatwhichbindsus; ciara gives ephram some help figuring out his newly-accessible witch magic. takes place before ciara goes to california.

She’d invited him to meet her in a small glade not far from the coast. Wild grass and native flowers in full blossom, pollinators buzzing around idly as she watched them. Far enough from local parks and paths, but not so far that either of them were isolated. Especially as, truth be told, Ciara didn’t trust Ephram’s declaration entirely. So few had held the cinquefoil and succeeded in sealing a demon to themselves. She knew little of it and much of the nature of binding magic. There was always cross contamination. Always.

There was part of him that was fundamentally demon now, Ciara believed it in her core, and that was if this wasn’t a trick by Anaxis. Yet, she could afford a little optimism, and had brought a kit of things for them to try together. Magic management, it seemed.

Ciara was wearing her witching uniform, but not the standard black she’d worn all year. This was a deep, deep olive green, a dress with bell sleeves that reached only past her elbow, tucked in tight at the waist, and the dropped softly to the ground. On her right arm there were three steel cuffs, each connected with filament chains that then webbed across the back of her hand to the rings on her fingers. On her left was nothing but the flutter of her sleeve, flashing over her Mark. It drew more attention than planned, but too late for that now. Either the sheriff knew what it meant, or he’d find out.

On the ground she’d spread a mat with just enough space for the, to both sit, and some magic toys not unlike the one she’d sent him yesterday. It was here she waited for Ephram to join her, flicking through one of her old Grimoire, breathing idle magic into the grass as she waited.

From the moment he caught sight of Ciara waiting serenely for him, looking every inch the witch in her flowy green dress and intricate jewelry and the Mark on her skin, thumbing through a book that looked much more beaten and worn than the one that he was toting, Ephram felt a thrill surge through him. It was a renewed energy and zest that he’d felt pumping through his body since he’d mastered the Cinquefoil and with it the demon, and although he knew in his more cautious, logical mind that he should maybe hold off on pitching woo over life and its loveliness, it was hard to suppress that feeling.

He’d lived so, so long with Anaxis and damnation and quiet, internal agony dragging him down. Right now, he felt the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground was how much he relished the corporeal. Everything physical seemed new and bright, exciting beyond limits.

“Hey there, honey,” Ephram greeted Ciara with a wide grin, stooping to hug her before she could object. He plopped down on the mat, crossing his long legs, and set his own blank grimoire to balance on one knee. “I feel like I ain’t seen you in forever. You look ... “ he considered, tilting his head to one side as he regarded her through a clear-eyed squint. “You look settled,” Ephram finally decided on. “It’s nice. It’s good to feel like you’ll be hangin’ round town for a while. Huh?” 

He raised his eyebrows and nodded at Ciara, looking for confirmation. 

Ephram had a genteel warmth to him, that she leant into as he hugged her. It wasn’t something he’d done before, but as he let her go Ciara found that she didn’t mind it at all. He wasn’t a threat, there was no demon in him nor her, and there was no point to her secrets anymore. She’d sat trial, and it was over. The brief brush of skin gave her a spark of what was to come, but she felt no dark stain on that flicked of green and silver. Good. 

“Hey yourself. You look… rested”

“Depends on the day,” she replied wrily, but her smile was entirely genuine. “I have an apartment now, so I’m settled for now. We’ll see where this road leads. And in the mean time, you can benefit. I hope.” A promise to him, and a compromise - Ciara had never taught anyone before, not anything except herself. It would not be perfect, but it would be good enough. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Ciara offered him her hand, palm and Mark up. She almost asked if he knew its meaning, but Ephram was so talkative it would come up on its own, or wouldn’t, and it wasn’t her problem. The limiting spell on her abilities was a bigger concern - it was possible, in all this, that Ephram was stronger than her right now. 

“Let’s see what you’re working with here. Are you having any difficulty with it bursting out of you, or with more force than intended?” She asked, waiting for him to take her hand, already searching him for those tell tale signs of magic going awry. Skin that was mottled, or eyes different colour. Some things were obvious; singed clothes, wilting plants where he walked. Others were less obvious, like a fuzziness to his features, or a hum in the air around him, quieter than a bee’s wings. And sometimes it wasn’t noticeable at all, until it burst out of them, like opening the lid of a shaken soda bottle.  “I’d love to hear about how you used the cinquefoil too.”

“If you’re stickin’ round town, I would call that a benefit whether or not I git the favour of you teachin’ me as well.” Ephram grinned at Ciara, adding the expression’s honest pleasure to the easy Southern charm of the accompanying remark. He could feel that her guardedness had lessened, even more so than their last conversation at the bar, and in turn Ephram banished the wary neediness that had coloured his own interactions with Ciara. They could start more-or-less afresh, a prospect that filled Ephram with effervescent anticipation.

The way he felt about everything, these days. “Feelin’ rested and refreshed,” he elaborated, nodding. “It’s a mite difficult to keep the magic tuned down and focused, yeah. After so long with Anaxis sappin’ up most of it, man -- it’s like all these years I was workin’ blindfolded and gagged.” Ephram held up one hand, watching in wonder as bright, strong strokes of silvery spring-green leapt and spiked between his fingers. “I don’t barely need to even think bout it now. I never had any idea, Ciara, what all I got at my disposal.”

Still nowhere near a woman witch of any skill, Ephram was pretty sure, but for him? It was an Old Faithful-level geyser. He reached for Ciara’s hand with his sparking one, content to let her examine him as closely as she needed to -- grateful for it, in fact. “I feel like I got my blood replaced,” he confided, leaning forward earnestly and accidentally toppling his grimoire off his knee onto the blanket. “It’s like I can feel every single twitch that goes through my muscles, my whole body feels like it got fine-tuned and it ain’t a junker no more.” His ocean-blue eyes were alight, skin getting ruddy with excited joy. “I feel alive. I din’t realize … I din’t realize how diminished my life was before.”

That brought a cloud over Ephram’s face, his gaze turning down and troubled at the thought of the pall that Anaxis had cast over twenty years of his existence. The compromise and the lost opportunities and the constant, underlying strain. 

But he shook himself out of it with some effort, composing himself to focus on Ciara and her impressions about what he seemed like now, what she could sense. “I’ll show you the demon seal,” he said, “where I set the Cinquefoil in at. And you, honey?” Ephram stroked his fingers against the Mark on Ciara’s skin, although he was holding her gaze. “How’re you doin’ with this?”

“I’m not going to be easier on you just because you’re playing teacher’s pet,” Ciara replied slickly, with a comfortable smirk as she readjusted her legs beneath her. He was glowing, bright and enthusiastic and full of it. This was no demon putting on an act, they didn’t understand joy like this. This was Ephram, living. 

“Like I said, we’ll focus on that today. It’s a muscle you’ve been flexing for years, and we don’t want you to lose it, especially if you’re finding it hard to control how much you do at once,” Ciara explained, talking with her hands and a smile. “It’ll get easier over time, but I’ll teach you some… cruder methods for using up magic so that when you’re using it for spell casting you have the right amount at your disposal.”

A mite difficult sounded an understatement, she thoughts as she took his hand in hers, pressing her magic into him just enough to feel his own sparks jump. Her eyes widened as she felt it anew, as clear and crystalline as spring water, rather than a city river. The green of his magic was a meadow after fresh rain, and the silver a fresh polished air. There was a dark, twisted filth to it, but that was so tightly confined she could barely feel it, and when she did, she shied away. “That’s amazing, Ephram.” This time, she sounded like she meant it.

But he also hesitated, and she drew back to look at him fully, tilting her head with sympathy, and waited for him to shake it off. There was no comfort she could offer, except her presence, so that was what he got.

“Thank you, I’d like to see it,” Ciara replied. He may have been holding her gaze, but as his fingers traced her marked skin, she looked down instinctively, watching his careful movements as a small frown set in her face. “I’m adapting. I haven’t been given any real trouble for it yet, and people who would have avoided me for my magic anyway now just have to look instead of having to touch.” The much greater struggle with it was internal, but courtesy of Iann, Ciara had had more than enough exploration of the internal. She looked up at Ephram with a sharp look, “You don’t seem too surprised about it.”

“I’m your onliest student!” Ephram protested, tilting his head to give Ciara a winsome grin. “You got no choice but for me to be your pet.” 

Not that he at all minded the prospect of being put through his paces when it came to Ciara’s lessons. Ephram had never made any bones about his feelings when it came to Ciara being hard on him; it was something he liked, always had, ever since he’d been a boy and his older step-sister Cheyenne had reined him in like a fractious colt when he needed it. And sometimes as a preventative measure. In Ephram’s estimation, being bossed around by a strong-willed woman equated to being cared about. He’d looked to Faye to fulfil that role, before, but it seemed more and more like their lives were taking them in separate directions and Ephram missed that dynamic in his life.

“That makes sense,” he mused when Ciara explained that she’d teach him something fundamental when it came to throttling down his flow of magic, now that it was unfettered and rampant. “I’m used to going full-tilt with my magic, only I never realized it before on account of Anaxis draining it all as fast as I could produce it.”

He flushed with pleasure when Ciara complimented the change in his magic, the fresher and cleaner untainted feel of it, her words of positivity helping to shelve the passing regret he felt. But when it came to herself, her witch-killer Mark, it seemed Ciara was somewhat more on edge -- not that Ephram could blame her. It was a helluva thing to have to carry on your skin for the rest of your life, for everybody to see. 

“I am surprised,” he said. “I just ain’t … shocked. For the whole time I known you, Ciara, you had skeletons and dark spirits dancin’ at your door. It makes a certain sorter sense that it would all eventually culminate in something … well, indelible. And damning.” There was sympathy in Ephram’s voice as he kept touching Ciara’s arm, instinctively tracing the circular lines of the Mark without having to look down at it. “I’m sorry it got put on you. But I feel like you seen this comin’ from years away.”

Or maybe he was wrong, maybe Ciara and other blood witches were naturally fatalistic, playing into the ghoulish aspect of their particular magic element. Maybe for all Ciara’s tense grimness, she really hadn’t expected to ever end up like this, branded a murderer for all to see. 

“Anythang I should know? Bout how this went down, you gettin’ this Mark.” Ephram was quiet and authoritative as he clarified, “--from a law and order standpoint, is what I mean. So’s nothin’ comes up on me unawares, when it comes to you, honey.”

“You asking for a confession, Sheriff?,” She asked, teasing a little less than she’d meant to, and quirked her lips in a half smile, as if the thought didn’t leave her mouth soured. The confession was right there on her arm, under his broad fingers. “This mark and the dampening of my abilities should be the end of it. I’d love to see any human cop prosecute me. Arson, maybe. I’ll let you know if it becomes a problem.”

For now it was just another reason to remain safely within Soapberry Springs, not that she minded too much. It was just fine. Totally fine. As fine as her an Iann, Ciara thought ruefully. “As you’re asking, is there anything you’d like to know?” Better to get it all out at once?

But they weren’t just here to chat about her crimes. Ciara brushed a daisy chain off her knee and stood, taking her grimoire with her. “The idea for the first one is just feeding the magic into a system. It’s not exciting, but like your puzzle, it’s about honing control. There’s magic in everything, the trees, the ground, the water, the air. So the idea is that you contribute your magic into those systems. You’re not steering the shape of the magic, because that exists in the system already, you just control the flow. The idea is practicing the rate of that flow, and getting enough magic out of your system to make it more manageable.”

Ciara paused, cocking her head, and gestured for him to walk with her. “I’m not sure how clear all that was, but I’ll show you what I mean. Obviously, I jive most with the magic in blood, and for obvious reasons I don’t pour this kind of magic into blood, so I’ll demonstrate on that pine there.” Her hands were a little clammy as she walked them over, planning logistics in her head. She’d had months since she’d made this offer, and yet here she was, feeling a little uncertain. “Um, and while you’d normally have a lessons from all sorts of teachers, you’ve just got me so you should know that not everyone agrees with me that everything has magic. But the principles of the exercise are the same, so if you put your hand on my arm, you can feel me do it.”

“Okay, then. I won’t worry bout it.” Ephram wore a half-smile of his own, though, returning evenly, “...but if I was askin’ for a confession, Ciara, you’d be able to tell. And you’d be givin’ me one.”

Even over the short time that the two of them had known each other, Ephram’s confidence in himself as a person and as a lawman had grown; now, after the Cinquefoil, that sureness in his own abilities had increased exponentially. Anaxis wasn’t there echoing in the back of his brain at every given moment, doing its level best to shred any self-esteem that Ephram managed to salvage and shore up.

He could lay down his sword for the first time in twenty-three years, like Freddie had said. But he found that he hadn’t so much lain it down as simply lowered it. Cinquefoil or not, that would take a while longer.

So Ephram didn’t take Ciara up on her suggestion that he interrogate her now as a preemptive strike, instead opting to continue with their lesson. He stood as well, following alongside her with his hands clasped loosely behind his back while he listened to Ciara outlining magical theory.

“I think I get it,” Ephram nodded, a frown of concentration between his eyebrows. “That there’s a way of thinkin’ that I’m familiar with, how there’s … well, a life spirit in all of nature and earth, even if I din’t directly term it as magic. I can feel it even better now.” He let his eyes drift shut, chin lifting, hands raising at his sides with palms up and fingers half-extended, half-curled as he took a deep breath and reached out for the swirls and eddies of energy inherent in the woods around them. “Stronger’n I ever imagined.”

He slid one big hand against his midsection as he let the other fall, opening his eyes to look at Ciara as she said she’d demonstrate what she was instructing him on. “What would it do?” Ephram asked, curiously. “Iffen you shoved your excess magic into blood. Would it make somebody, uh … blow up, or somethang?” Ephram mimed an explosion with his fingers and a soft bouuphh sound.

He was just pushing up his sleeves when Ciara started in on her disclaimer, making Ephram shake his head impatiently. “If I was of a mind to go searchin’ for regular teachers,” he said, laying his hand on Ciara’s proffered arm and letting his long fingers wrap slightly around the bony circumference of it, “I’d head on up to the university and find em. It’s your view on magic and your way of doin’ it that resonates with me. Has done ever since I found myself tethered to you in that other world.” Ephram looked up at the pine tree. “So lead on, Miss Woodman, ma’am.”

“Would I, now?” Ciara replied, a light quirk in her voice. 

A life spirit. That fit, Ciara thought, softening as she heard him talk. All the earth and soil and plants. When you were quiet, you could feel it breathe. When you were listening, it sang songs of life and love. He reached out for it, and she thought, good, let him feel. That magic would teach him better than she ever could. “It’s reaching out for you too. I feel it.”

“I've only had reasonable control of my magic for a dozen years. I'm very lucky I didn't kill anyone by accident. The body is such a small, contained space,  there isn't much room for that energy to escape, and a huge number of ways it can go wrong. I think you'd have to work at it to blow someone up, but I don't think anyone who experienced even the shortest instinctive bursts of my magic has been left unscarred.” Her reply was said with a carefully calculated calm demeanor, a complete detachment of the reality of those experiences. A flash of anger as her sister’s arm ruptured under her hand. Fear in a back alley with a man’s hand pinning her throat, that rocketed to terror when he dropped her and watched his hand blister and boil. Begging someone to leave her alone because she couldn’t help how badly she might hurt him. It was no wonder she was laser precise now.

Ephram’s reassurances sank skin deep and she nodded, comfortable for now as his hand wrapped around her wrist. She pushed it against the pine, molding herself to the shape of the coarse bark. A tiny line of black ants marched around the tips of her fingers. Ciara breathed, and pushed. Magic looped from the leys of the earth right into her, and through as a a conduit. Steering, not shaping, as she began pouring it into the tree. After barely moments, she was panting, sweat beginning to glisten on her skin in the sun. The steam was unwavering and smooth, a constant high pressure even though it did not fit in this shape well. The fit wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t long before Ciara felt the tightening of her chest as the limitor came into play, slowly constricting her own. Despite the pour of magic, the tree changed little, sprouting a few dozen new buds.

Ciara dropped her hand, closing her eyes as she panted hard and fast, and twisted to cough in her elbow. Dry, rattling coughs. “Right. That’s what it feels like. Your turn. I’ll make sure you don’t start a wildfire or knock all the oxygen out the air, but the rest is up to you.”

It felt like the best kind of validation when Ciara said that the magic was reaching out for Ephram too, that she could also feel it; he trusted her implicitly when it came to being abe to interpret what was happening magically. Malvoth aside, witch-killer mark aside. If there was anybody who was able to siphon through the cacophany of darkness that had attached itself to the witch and focus solely on Ciara herself, in her purest most stripped-down form, it was a man who carried his own miasma of demon and death with him.

“Reckon I can count myself lucky, then, that Anaxis took up so much of my magic all this time.” Ephram twisted his arm, letting the silver-green wind its way up to his elbow, wrap itself around in thick loops like some eldritch armour before carving it down to more delicate, fanciful curlicues against his skin. He said it a little wryly -- nothing about Anaxis was lucky, in any context -- but all the same, Ciara’s experiences were sobering. And contextualized against his own magic being bound up, the guilt that her magic had caused seemed comparable, in a way.

Christ, but she had fissures in her that you couldn’t even begin to reach. Deep, deep under the open ocean that was Ciara. Ephram held back a shudder.

That impression only got stronger as Ephram hitched along with Ciara’s demonstration of her magic, gathering and redirecting the energy with hardly a pause in her body. Ephram could tell just from riding with the pulse of it that his own body would cause more problems, that there would be hitches of unsureness and stumbling blocks of inexperience for the flow of magic to get hung up on.

He nodded when she told him it was his turn, rolling out his shoulders and tipping his head to the side sharply to crack it. “Hold onto me?” Ephram asked, scrunching his face briefly before stretching his fingers to splay against the tree bark. 

The contrails of Ciara’s magic were still there -- he could feel them tickling like those little black ants that avoided his hand just like they’d avoided hers -- and Ephram used them as a guide as he opened up to the life energy surroundings. It was like throwing open vents inside his chest, and his mouth opened to give a hoarse gasp before his teeth clacked together and a burst of magic stormed through the palm of his hand, blasting them both instantly backwards into a sprawled tangle on the ground.

“Fuckfire,” Ephram coughed, then coughed some more, rolling up onto one elbow and blinking rapidly. “You okay? Ciara?”

With a smirk, Ciara nodded, and came to stand beside and just behind him. Breathing was still a heavy labour, but she barely minded as she wrapped one hand around the bare skin of his arm, muscled and veiny and covered in blond hair. With the other, she put her hand on his hip, far from the cinquefoil that both frightened and amazed her. She slipped one finger between the seam of his shirt and his jeans, touching the skin too. Closing a circuit. She was the safety latch, ready to steer magic into her if it became too much. Ciara breathed deep, her chest pressed up to his back ,keeping the both of them secure.

He was the wildcare, and when she felt his magic stir, she felt it all the way to his core. Green and silver, so entangled it was hard to tell one from the other. Ciara had felt this before, the first time they’d met, when she’d soaked her hands in his blood and used him as a teleport. But then, it had been cut short. Here, it felt almost like a bottomless well, in comparison to what he’d had before. She could feel the ley inside him.

The magic bulged and burst through him, surging out through his arms. Bang. Ciara by instinct grabbed on tight as they were hurled back through the air. When they landed, they landed hard, knocking whatever breath she had right out of her. She coughed and spluttered and wriggled to get her arm out from under Ephram. Ciara sat up and rested her hands on firm ground, looked at the tree they’d been standing by, and starting laughing.

It started as a giggle, but like his magic soon burst into a full belly laugh, face scrunched as she doubled over. It was loud and silly and slowly died into coughs. She looked up at him, so he knew she was laughing from joy and not at him. “Not quite what we were aiming for, but that was-“ Ciara looked back at the tree - “that was impressive. Not bad at all. I’ve - Two questions: What did you feel, and are you ready to try some more?”

Ephram goggled at the sight of Ciara, laughing. Laughing fit to burst, mirth cascading out of her in a way that he wouldn’t even have thought she was capable of, and Ephram started to hoot and guffaw along with her. Both in honest amusement at his own exuberant fuckup and at the unexpected infectious quality of Ciara’s laughter.

“Jesus,” he said, his drawl stretching the word out to about eight syllables. “I was expectin’ maybe some lil flashbang but I sure wasn’t expectin’ that.” Ephram gestured at the poor tree that had borne the brunt of his uncontrolled magic. But Ciara was saying he didn’t do badly, Ciara was praising him for his effort, even, and Ephram couldn’t help but puff up a little at having made Teacher proud.

“What did I feel,” he repeated dutifully, rolling up to kneeling and sitting back on his heels. “I felt … it felt like if you’re used to drivin’ beaters but then you get to drive a normal car and you don’t realize you only gotta tap the gas jes a lil bit to get ‘er going. Because you been accustomed to havin’ to mash down on the gas pedal to even push that ol’ beater to start.”

It was a good analogy, but Ephram wanted -- keenly -- to make sure he’d answered the question from every possible angle and interpretation. “What did I feel, was energy rumblin’ through the … fibres of my muscles, and the blood in my veins. But not swirlin’ inside me, more like … building up. Storing itself but vibrating the whole time.”

Ephram pushed the heels of his hands against his knees, half-rising a bit before sitting back down again. “Is that good? Bad? Dangerous?” The feel of her hands against his skin had been dangerous, a little bit. Raising up the tantalizing spectre of them doing blood magic together, so seamlessly, with such grand effect.

But that was a different time, one shadowed by their demons. Now Malvoth was gone and Anaxis was locked away, and it was only the two of them. 

Licking his bottom lip and then biting it, Ephram looked at Ciara, then nodded in tiny rapid motions of his head. “I wanna try again,” he said, anticipation lining his voice. “More.”

Ciara sent her own flicker of magic across the field, checking for residual magic that tangled in knots, and would pop at inopportune moments, likes clots on the ley. But Ephram’s magic didn’t feel so congested, there was nothing to untangle. It had come out of the flood gates, and flooded that tree, but now was gone. His descriptions earned him a smile.

At the question, she paused, looking him over thoughtfully. Good, bad or dangerous had summed up so much of Ephram’s existence with his magic, after all. Even with the Cinquefoil, his magic would never truly be separate from the demon. His faith was also known for dealing in dualities also, and Ciara could both understand the fear of it being “bad” and simultaneously felt perplexed by the considering of it in such simple ways.

“It just is. I don't know if it's permanent or just a case of being out of practice. But the more you pay attention to those feelings, the more you’ll learn. There’s only good and bad for you,” Ciara settled on, standing and offering him a hand to do the same, although they both knew she didn’t need it.

"Okay, so try again. With the tree,  the soil, or the air. A gentle tap, this time.  Slowly speed up." They would do this again and again, until he was tired or until he got it someplace reasonable. Ciara didn't expect perfect, but this was the first way to get it safe. Once they got it safe, the world was his oyster. When he chose his spot, there she was again, thumb to his hip and hand to his arm. Over and over. Ciara was patient, after all.

"Only good or bad for me."

Ephram kept that in mind, a steady foundation along with the feel of Ciara touching him, grounding him, keeping hold of him. As he tried and tried again, sending clots of dirt and grass spinning into the air one time, creating a frenzy of fresh soft green pine sprigs on another, some of the attempts coming out half-measures while others knocked them on their backs. 

And still Ciara was there, dogged and encouraging as they dusted themselves off and refocused for the next attempt. Ephram was accustomed to hard work and repetition and didn't often expect the same of anybody else; but Ciara matched him each time, murmuring suggestions and moderate praise and sometimes what Ephram thought might be gentle teasing (he liked those the best). 

He wouldn't have been able to say exactly what iteration they were on when Ephram finally got it down properly -- especially because he had to repeat the exercise five times running, bringing mulberry-coloured pinwheel flowers up from hard little buried bulbs, before it could be considered real and not a fluke.

"Ciara," Ephram said, puffing slightly as sweat dotted the line of his nose and his forehead. "Holy shit." He squeezed her waist, then her wrist, and then loped over to the small patch of waving pinwheeling blooms and gathered a handful of them, bearing them back to present to her like some shiny apple placed on her desk. "Look, look," Ephram said eagerly, and bit his lip as he focused his magic into a manageable, civilized stream, tying a silvery bow around the long green stems. He gave Ciara a big, open-mouthed doggy grin, then blinked rapidly and reached out to brace one big hand against her shoulder.

"Whoo," Ephram breathed after a moment. "Must of … whoo. Reckon I got a lil slap-happy there, huh? It's harder'n I thought it would be, whittling the magic down to where it could be useful instead of goin' crazy. After all that time tryin' to make my magic work better and harder, it's the complete opposite."