A few hours later, after having to deal with the last of the firemen and a call to her father, Emily walked into the Southside park. She had drove in and parked before walking to the playground and watched the children play. She kept looking around, everything seemed so much more real, like it had a new life to itself. She kept turning over what had happened in her mind.

She ran a hand through her short blond hair and opened her journal, she was thinking of something to write but instead began to sketch. She drew a candle, mostly melted and a little mangled, but still standing tall in it’s stand surrounded by others. As she sketched she thought back to what she had seen and experienced in that fire. There was no way that it wasn’t real, no matter what the EMTs and Firemen had said.



West had changed clothes.

He wasn't a fashionista in any sense of the word, but clothes were tools, and he acknowledged the value of having the right tool for the job. For a moment, he'd considered one of his old concert shirts, that said I'm just a normal guy, too, but decided that Emily probably wouldn't recognize Joy Division or New Order logos as anything familiar or reassuring.

Faded jeans with large pale spots on the inner thighs from riding a saddle, worn runner's shoes, and a dark shirt were a stark contrast from the suit. A small torch emblem was embroidered on the breast of the shirt, with the word Pathfinder above it, and the words Semper Primus below it. Gold lettering at the bottom of each sleeve said US ARMY on the left and CAVALRY on the right. The exposed arms were lean, and it was easy to see that he was a person that exercised thoroughly and regularly.

It wasn't often that he didn't carry a gun, and the lack of the comfortable weight against his ribs or hip was disconcerting. More than once, a hand strayed to touch one of the bare spots, muscle memory ingrained to 'find' what was missing. He waved as soon as he saw her and began approaching, breaking the soft and subtle protection of the spell that let him blend in and fade into the "background noise" of the rest of the park visitors.

Squatting, he rested his forearms on his knees and smiled. It was a genuine, happy smile, with just the hint of satisfaction, the sort of smile a boy might have after asking a girl out and getting a positive response.

This was more; this was an Awakening.

"Hi," he said. It was a simple thing, but he wanted to hear her response, to gauge how she was handling the past few hours.



“Hi.” She returned, her voice still holding the taint of the slight warble of residual stress. She breathed out a heavy breath before putting the journal into the crimson shoulder bag she had beside her. She waited a moment, studying him.

“It’s weird, you know, it’s like I can see that little spark of flame still, but in everything.” she spoke quietly, a determined but soft sound as if she was still trying to assure herself that she wasn’t making up what she was seeing, and as if the man opposite her would disbelieve her. “Like everything has that same spark, only deeper, but usually just as bright.” Her words drifted off, and a light color grew in her cheeks--embarrassment at the sudden outburst. “Sorry, it’s just...weird. Really, I’m not crazy!”

The last three words were more to assure herself than him.




"Probably not," West agreed, with a small smile, winking at her.

That surprised him a little. It was a reflex, a remnant from his childhood of a shared joke; he looked down, hoping she hadn't mistook it.

Looking down, he saw the grass, and he reached down to pluck a fat blade to hold up.

"Semyon Kirlian was an Armenian electrician," West said, looking back up. He turned the blade flat towards her. "He discovered a technique to photograph the fields of energy, or auras, that surround things -- especially the living. In fact, if I tore this blade in half, the Kirlian Aura would outline the missing piece for a short amount of time."

The hand holding the grass lowered to rest on his knee.

"I want you to look at me, and imagine you can see a Kirlian Aura, sort of like the corona of the sun during an eclipse."

West opened his own Supernal senses, waiting to see if she would be able to Improvise the Sight.



One blond eyebrow raised at his wink and remained raised before he began to explain something about auras. “Aura? You want me to try to see your aura, isn’t that something that you can only do when the person whose aura you’re trying to see is standing in front of a white wall?” She asked trying to make sure he was really asking her to do something that was nigh on impossible. But his own eyes seemed to speak truth and she shrugged before clasping her hands in her lap and returning his gaze. She squinted a little letting her vision blur and drop out of focus as she tried to picture the corona around the crouching West, but she still stared.

Almost three minutes and several blinks later she leaned a little closer to the man. “There was a flicker there, I think.” she said as she leaned back her hands rubbing her eyes which ached from the strain of staring. “It was almost sparkling, amid flames though, not much like a corona per-say but...” Her voice trailed off as she looked sheepishly at him.

“What’s this all about any way?”



West's mouth pulled to the side in a rueful smile.

Flames.

He thought of the candle she'd drawn, and the 'fire' in the church.

I need to stop thinking like an Acanthus.

The thing was, he wasn't sure what sort of Imagos Obrimos used -- but he made a mental note to find out. She needed to believe she could impress her Supernal Will onto Fallen 'reality'. He considered the Obrimos, the Mighty, and how to make that happen.

"Let's try taking your mind off of the aura," he said. West dropped the blade of grass, and reached up to cover her eyes, barely touching her. His hands smelled faintly of leather and soap, with just a hint of cordite.

"Did you write your name in the church? One a wall? In a book?"

He wove threads of Prime, infusing the spell with Mana to strengthen the the fragile threads of a foreign Tower, gently laying the weave of Primal Flow over her eyes as he waited for her answer and then removed his hands.

I will show you.


Emily looked confused for a moment, “So forget about them? Or just stop trying so hard to see them?” She asked as he moved his hands to cover her eyes and smells hit her like a hand grenade. Some she recognized from her own father, and others just from generally being around certain areas at certain times. It smelled really good, and she almost swayed as she took in the pleasant assault on her sense.

“Um, no; I was running mostly, and I only put my candle down, it looked more or less like my drawing.” She said almost turning to get the book to show him, “You will believe me if, when I tell you right? You won’t tell me I’m--”

Her words cut off as he removed her hands and she could see, really see. Things seemed different, even more brighter than before and there was a glow, a literal glow around everything. But it was more than a glow, it was like she could see everything at the same time.

“Wow.” She gasped.

She shut her eyes at the brightness of it all; it hurt to just look. But she felt almost compelled to look again. Her eyes opened again and she could stand it just a little longer, and West? He was shining, like there was some sort of cloud wrapped around him, and he sparkled, not like the ‘Vampires’ portrayed in the Twilight series but like... something, something so much better and more free even.

She lasted almost two minutes the second time, before her eyes closed again to protect herself from the blinding brilliance of the glow and shines of the world around her.

“What is it? Are these the auras, are they always so bright?” She asked, her normal nineteen year old voice softening to almost a child’s whisper. “And why is your’s so much brighter than everyone and everything else’s?”


West's smile matched her own; this was the moment he loved so much. The Awakening, the realization. It was a vicarious thrill that was lightning in a bottle; like skydiving for the first time, or sex. He pulled the flow of Prime from the Aether once more, calling her Tower rather than his, but lacing the flow with his own Lunargent glow.

Golden light with silver sparkles sprayed from his finger tips like pixie dust as he flicked the Supernal Script at her, visible only with the Sight.

"Because I'm like you."

He reached out to take her hand, pulling it outward so that she could see her own Aura, the Script leaving shining streaks where he touched.

"I told you that you were special," West continued, just the hint of satisfaction in his tone.

He flicked his fingers again, splashing the iridescent traces of tass at her.

"This is just the beginning."

West leaned forward, looking at her seriously, to see if she believed and accepted what she was seeing and hearing.


“You're like me how?” She asked as she tried to dodge the silver pixie dust he was flicking at her. When he dragged her hand forward she stared at the flaring aura, the flickering light of glitter soaked flame. There was a similar enough shine in her aura to his and as she stared a moment longer realization dawned on her and she looked back up at him, in enough time to catch and palm a small bit of the silver dust he was flicking at her. It was sticky and it stained her fingers for a moment before she flicked it back at him

“So I’m like you then? But how do you do that, I want to know how to do that.” She smiled, a sparkle in her eye. “It’s magic, isn’t it?"

She paused for a moment, "I may be in college but I still hold by my faerie tales." She stated in explanation.



"Yes," he answered with a nod.

This time he called to his own Tower, wrapping the tasslets she flicked at him in a bubble where Time did not advance. He took his finger and absorbed each one of the hanging motes, freeing it from it's temporal stasis as it touched him and resumed it's forward motion into the river of Time.

He grinned, suddenly, looking at her. "You will. That's why I'm here."

It was a small, partial lie; a half truth, it just wasn't the only reason he was there, or why he'd been at the church.

"So. Yes. You. Are. A. Magician."

He said the words slowly, seriously, inwardly pleased by her ready acceptance of the idea. Reaching out, he took her hand again, turning it palm up and half-closing her fingers to form a cup.

"You want to know how I did that? Every spell begins as an idea. We call that an Imago. I want you to close your eyes, and imagine all of those sparkles in your Aura glowing just a little brighter, and that light turning into liquid and filling your hand."


She nodded at his words as something in her mind clicked, “I am a magician, I can use magic.” She spoke slowly, tasting the words as she spoke them before he began to explain how to make the strange pixiedust he had been flicking around.

I am a magician, I can use magic. she thought again as she closed her eyes and let the image, the imago, of the flecks of her aura shining brightly before zipping them into her hand and filling them with a shining silver water. She focused on that image before opening her bespelled eyes and looked at her hand.

The silver liquid in her palm was just colder than her own skin temperature. She stared at it, her eyes lighting in joy and excitement. “I did it, I did it.”


There would be a day, someday, that he'd tell her that the magician and magic bit was bullshit.

That it was all bullshit.

That her Soul itself could touch the truth, and could use that truth to alter the Lie that bound them all. Today was not that day; today was the day he was simply happy that she had an analog that he could use to help her not only accept the truth, but use it. If the lens she used to focus her Soul's will was rose colored for a while, what was the harm?

"Yeah."

He grinned, infected with her excitement. It wasn't a yeah like yeah let's see what's on tv it was yeah like yeah that's fucking amazing and words don't describe that awesomeness.

"You believe me now?" West asked, holding out his hand. "Well, I mean, do you trust me now?"

The was a subtle subtext.

Are you ready for the next?


To Be Continued...