"Jesus, fuck!" Crystal doubled over in pain and just about fell from his chair. Working on his spellcasting was fine and dandy - he was growing more and more comfortable with using his Magic every day - but it had two very glaring drawbacks: there was the Abyss for one. He mostly stuck to covert things, kind of like using training wheels, but he knew that he couldn't just rely on parlor tricks and aura reading alone when things got dicey. So he had to push against reality at some point and that meant that something might be pushing back. He had been careful (and probably lucky) since they threw him out of San Francisco, but one slip and this streak could very well end.


The other part was what hurt like a bitch. He didn't know how the other Mages of Sacramento did it - maybe you really couldn't throw a stone without hitting a Hollow here, but Crystal hadn't struck gold so far. So the only way for him to fill up the tank after exercising his non-Mastigos parlor tricks was to scour his pattern.


He thought the worst was over, when another wave of pain hit him like a truck. This time it was so bad that his vision blurred and before he could get up and rush to the bathroom he already vomited onto the carpet in front of the couch. Thank God for amphetamines - he hadn't eaten all day, so what spoiled the carpet was only gall and stomach fluid. "I really gotta ask- ugh-" There was nobody here to listen to his grunted declaration, but he wanted to prove a paint and rise above the pain. "Gotta ask someone to help me- find a fucking Hollow."
But whom? Kaze was an Obrimos - Kaze who wanted to learn Space to quickly get from shooting locations back to Sacramento. If only he had been quicker to learn he could pop by and help him. Who else was there? Phoenyx was an Obrimos. What about Guru and Eulogy - he probably should ask them first, otherwise what was the use of their Cabal?


Crystal remained hunched over for a few minutes. Hunching over was his friend now, because moving fucking hurt. Still, he felt the tingling of Mana in his Pattern, the reward for his pains. And that meant that he could flex his Supernal muscles if needed. "Score one for the home team." He exclaimed in an heroic effort. There was only one thing left to do: he focused his will, grit his teeth and gave his body one painful push -


and fell backwards onto the couch. The Supernal could wait, the vomit on the floor could wait. For now he needed to take a nap.