#84 - Suspension of Disbelief - Second Try - Tekia - Original

[tekia.livejournal.com]

I really didn't have many ideas on where to go with this prompt. Hope it's alright. In my opinion, it barely follows the prompt.
Title: Second Try. (no pun intended)
Fandom: Original/ Maybe This is What Happened.
Prompt: 84 (5) Suspension of Disbelief
Warnings: Maybe need to read Maybe This is What Happened before this, although, this takes place way, way later in the story and What Happened is only the first half.
Rating: PG
Summary: Safed has always been told he has no magic. Now, when someone says he does, can he believe?


Strong winds pulled at his hair as Safed gasped for breath still within the grips of the spell. Holding tightly to himself, fearing that he would be ripped apart in the vortex of time, he knew that the spell was almost complete. He just had to wait for solid ground to find him.
Find him it did, and rather harshly as his feet were suddenly planted firmly on earth and the natural order of things once again reasserted its control over his body.
He fell to his knees as the vertigo kicked in and the after effects of the spell seeped into his body. Chills raced down his back and his stomach ached. Gagging, he really wished he could vomit, but there was nothing. Rubbing at the tears that sprang into his eyes, he pressed his forehead to the ground, wishing that the world would stop moving around him so violently.
“Stop moving.” he growled, doing a fairly good job of mimicking Xactán’s grouchy voice. Even the sun was against him, shining brightly in the sky above him with no trees nearby to shade him.
Really, he just wanted to sleep. For a very long, long time. Perhaps forever.
Maybe he did dose, because it was a buzzard landing on his head, it’s beak tugging at his tunic’s collar, that brought him upright, gasping in fear, his eyes wide as the large scavenger took to the air with an offended cry.
Suddenly, he remembered where he was. In the past, further in the past than he had been before, but it was supposed to be the same place.
The Shining City, before it became the Shining City. Well, long before it ever had hope of becoming the beautiful city at the center of a vast empire. What he’d left behind had been exotic and strange, now . . .
Now it was nothing. Or was it before? Before, it was nothing. He grimaced, in any event, when he was, now, there was nothing around him.
Well, there was something here: a small cactus and sand and that was all. Gaping at the empty landscape, the sands that were drifting along with a nearly not there breeze, Safed felt fear like he’d not known ever before.
There wasn’t the grandiose palace of his time, or the city as he had first known it. There wasn’t even signs of the tribe that would settle here and become the great city in years to come. He frowned, there wasn’t even an oasis that would draw a tribe to this empty lot of land.
If the Shining City was not here, then how was he supposed to find his demon? Where could he possibly be? There was no brush of thick foliage for the demon to hide the portal to his realm, there was nothing but sand, sand, and more sand. And a vulture.
Eyeing him.
He missed the river, too, with it’s glittering surface and musical voice. He really wanted to go home, in his own time, and have the innocence he’d lost. Back then, he’d had no fears. Even without magic, he’d been immortal. The immortality of youth his father called it. How he sorely missed that.
He ran his fingers through his hair, distantly noticing that it had grown into a tangle that would have made him ashamed to show his face not long ago, knowing that the old biddies of his old village would love to tease him about the riot of curls. Shaking sand out of the mess, he wondered just how far back in time Try had thrown him this time. Was it far enough?
Looking around him with squinted eyes he wondered if it was too far back. Surely the demon wouldn’t be here, alone. What would be the point? He tried to stand, testing his legs before trusting them with his full weight.
What was he supposed to do now, then? Start walking and hope some nomadic tribe found him and took pity upon him. Rather, they would think him some sort of other world creature and, depending upon when in time he was, either kill him or off him.
Shivering despite the hot and dry air, he thought perhaps he didn’t want to be found by ignorant peoples. But, he didn’t know how to survive the desert alone. He hugged his arms around himself.
He wanted Try.
He started to walk, but then froze. If he left, would he miss something? What if there were a clue, here, that he had to notice? Purple eyes quickly scanned the area. Only if the clue were sand would it be here, he concluded.
He didn’t know what to do. Had he arrived too early? What other explanation was there? He felt a sob rising, panic quickly following. Would he be stuck here until he died?
Without ever seeing any of his family or friends ever again? Without Try?
He dropped to the ground, fisting his hands in the sun warmed sand. What was he supposed to do now? Hot tears began to trail down his cheeks and he clenched his eyes closed.
With his eyes closed and his mind focused on trying to keep his sanity, it took him a moment to recognize the scent drifting on the breeze. Once he did, his eyes popped open and he jumped to his feet to face the direction of whence the breeze came.
That was the scent of a demon. More specifically, a demon that exhausted its magic. It was close, given the strength of the scent, but then again, it was only a human nose. He grinned. The demon had to be very close indeed for little ol’ him to scent it.
But in every direction there was only the large expanse of sand. There was no trace of life anywhere. He started forward then, in the direction of the breeze, hope leading him. He didn’t have far to go, a few dozen paces at best when he could go no further.
It seemed as if there were a wall halting his movements. He splayed his hands out, feeling the solid yet invisible barrier.
He bit his lip, thinking back. He knew demon magic was different than human magic, different than spirit magic even. What basics he knew about each he could fit on his fingers. But one thing had always stuck out in his mind.
With magic, there was always a chance.
If one wasn’t strong enough, there was a chance magic could go wrong. If one were too strong, there was a chance that the magic would become too much to handle. If one were to doubt himself, there was a chance that the magic would bloom out of control. If one were too overconfident, there was the chance they would take a short cut on something and the magic wouldn’t hold properly. If one used too much magic, the magic could bend and crack.
This was powerful magic, this wall, but he could scent it, and that was saying a lot, for he was only human, a non-magic using human at that.
He knocked on the invisible wall, wondering how to get past, wondering what was on the other side. The spell was fairly new, so full of its creator’s scent as it was. For him, though, there was no way past. Without a trace of magic, there was no hope. He would have to go the other direction, but that would be the complete opposite of his purpose here.
Try had told him that he was to free him from the prison he was in. To do that, he had to travel back in time to when he was first put in the prison, when the spell was new and could easily be broken, if one knew how.
Unfortunately, Try didn’t tell him how. Try didn’t know how. For some ungodly reason, he felt that Safed could do this task the needed a warlock, not an ungainly seventeen year old human boy. Pounding his fist against the invisible wall, he closed his eyes and dearly wished he was back in Try’s cavern, not necessary in his own time.
In his first jump back in time, he’d landed too soon and found the demon still in the cave, refusing to leave the confines, unable to at all. By then it was too late for Safed to figure out the spell from the outside, for the scent and wisps of its form were long gone. The Try of that time had taken him in just as his future self had done, but things were different.
Safed had realized he was terribly in love with the demon. And to have that love returned . . .
He wanted to go back. He’d even accept being unable to live outside Try’s cave, if only to be with the demon and away from these trials the gods seemed to loved to put him through. He wished to be with Try with all his heart, feeling the pain of their parting deep within.
Suddenly, as he was leaning against the magical barrier, he felt himself falling forward. Giving a squawk, he fell to his hands and knees.
A low growl reached his ears, a growl he recognized easily. Joy filling him, he quickly regained his feet only to freeze upon the sight beyond the magic wall.
Try was there, his white hair hanging freely over his shoulders, hiding parts of his face and making an eerie frame for those soulless blood red eyes. Eyes that were currently spitting hatred at him.
The demon was also held prisoner to a boulder the size of a house. His arms were outstretched, magically tied to the rock so that he couldn’t move more than an inch to loosen the pressure on his shoulders. His bare feet were just touching the ground.
Gasping, Safed reached for his demon, but stopped cold at the growl that rose in pitch.
“Be gone, magic-user, I’ve had enough of your kind.” The demon hissed, his muscles straining at his bonds.
Startled, Safed spoke, “I’ve no magic. I’m only human.”
The soulless eyes narrowed and Try’s face contorted with hatred. “You think me a fool? I’m held by magic, not dulled by it.”
Safed shook his head, his curls falling over his eyes. “I tell you, I’ve no magic. There’s not a trace of it in my bloodline.”
Try’s thin lips curled into a mocking smile. “And yet you reek of it.” He jerked his arms again, shocking Safed into starting.
He’d forgotten that he’d been afraid of Try, once. Still was whenever the demon decided to show his true power. As strong as he was, Safed had no doubt that Try was the strongest demon in existence. But that didn’t explain how he kept getting into these scrapes. Maybe he sought out the trouble?
“It’s my greatest wish to have my own magic.” He shook his head, his eyes torn away from Try. Truly, the demon was a sight. Dried blood was caked along the length of his arms from cuts around his wrists. His hair was covered in sand, his lips chapped from the dry heat of the desert.
Try seemed to give up his bravado then, slumping against the rock, head lulling to the side. “You’re stupid then, not to see your own magic.”
“I don’t-” Safed began reflexively, then cut off as a thought occurred to him. Why had Try sent him back in time, then? He’d no magic yet the future demon had sent him back to break a spell.
His eyes shot behind him as he wondered what happened to the invisible wall. He couldn’t have broken that spell. He returned his gaze to the trapped demon. This vision before him was more suiting to a prison than Try’s cave. The one that held all his personal belonging. The one where anybody could enter at will, or leave. Including Try himself, he thought, remembering in his own time the many occasions upon which Try would disappear from the cave for hours on in.
Safed suddenly frowned. That demon had lied to him! That cave wasn’t a prison at all. He was already free, insomuch at he wasn’t attacked to a mountain of a rock. Not really a mountain . . . More of a hill.
Which meant that he knew. He’d known all along. It was, after all, his past. Try had known that Safed would come back in time and free him. He’d been waiting for him, there, here, in the Shining City. He could still remember that night when he’d first arrived in the desert city and couldn’t sleep. How the demon appeared before him and he feared for his life.
Try had known then, too.
He shook his head. “I don’t have magic. I’ve tried. I’ve been tested by great warlocks and have been found wanting.”
This Try turned his eye back to Safed, a glint in them the boy didn’t wholly trust. “Shall I prove it to you? Come closer.”
Safed stiffened, reminded that, at times, Try was dangerous, even to him. Cautiously walking forward Safed halted just out of reach, not that the demon could make an effort in any case. It made him feel safer.
Try must have noticed his eyes then, their odd color, for he stared into them a moment, at a loss for words before he collected himself. “You are a human. As such, your magic is weaker than the demon’s that created this,” he tugged at the bonds. “But, you are also untrained, which means your magic is wild, strong and unpredictable.”
Safed frowned, taking this in. If the future Try knew this, then it would explain why he would teach Safed nothing. When Safed had first come to Try to learn he’d told him then that he would teach Safed nothing.
But, he didn’t have magic.
“Human magic is different than the other types. Humans have to think about their magic, focus it into what they want.” Something flared in those red eyes that Safed loved so much. “You have to want to have me free before you can break these bonds.”
Seems simple enough.
“Wait. Who ever said I wanted you free?”
The demon grinned. “I did. Free me, little untrained one, and I’ll take you as a pupil and teach you to use your magic.”
There had never been any doubt in Safed’s mind that he would free Try. There had been little doubt that he wanted Try free. Seeing his lover poised so was agony, but he had to remind himself that the Try he knew and this one were different. This one didn’t yet know that he loved Safed.
He held out a hand to the demon, but paused. “I’ve no magic in me.”
“You sound so sure. Who told you it was so?”
Safed couldn’t help the twist to his lips. “Everybody. My dads, he’s researched his and my mums’ family lines. There’s not a trace of magic. The Blessed of the Gods, he found no magic within me. One warlock and two demons all found me sans magic.” He gave a short laugh. “Am I to believe you, a flesh-eating demon tied to a rock, for who knows how long, in the middle of a desert? How do I know you’re not just trying to get a free meal?”
Confusion flared briefly in the demon’s gaze but was quickly replaced by ire. “I keep my word. I said I’d train you, train you I will.”
Safed stepped closer, peering into narrowed eyes. “But you’re lying, I’ve no magic.”
“Put your hands to the rock.”
Blinking, Safed did so, placing his hands on either side of the trapped demon. He had never feared Try trying to attack him, after all, the demon preferred his meat well cooked.
“How much do you wish to have magic?”
Safed’s eyes closed and he thought back through all the years. He though about his childhood and his time in the Shining City. His time with Try. “Having magic is the second most desirable thing in the world to me.” When the demon made no rejoinder, he opened his eyes and found that they were close, close enough their noses were almost touching, breaths mingling.
Try stared into Safed’s eyes a moment. “I wonder what’s the first,” he nearly breathed. Then, “Take that desire and focus it. See your magic flow into the rock, imbue it.”
Having learned how to focus from Tristan, Safed closed his eyes and settled his breathing. He had no magic, knew he had none, so didn’t quite know what to look for.
Try said to use his desire as a starting point. So be it.
All of his life, Safed had wanted to have magic, could hardly believe that he had such a powerful name as that of the demon Try. But that was not really his magic, merely borrowed, like a fishing pole, to catch a glimpse of the fish that would never be caught. He could use Try’s magic by commanding the demon by his name, but it wasn’t the same.
After living with the Emperor, who also didn’t have magic, but was a kind of magic all of his own, and Try, and Kiwi, the spirit, he wanted his own fishing pole. He could feel his desire for magic pooling in his heart. Taking that, he followed the thought with how much he wished to hold that magic in his own hands.
He could feel a tingling in the palm of his hands, lightly, like the tips of spring grass blowing from a breeze under his hands. Lips parted in surprise, he felt the wave of his desire turned magic flow into the rock via his hands.
The rock collapsed into a mound of sand, drifting away on the breeze. His eyes snapped open to stare at the mess he’d made, at the demon rubbing away the sores on his wrests before him. Safed still held his hands up, could almost still feel the very solid rock under them, his eyes wide.
His skin felt thin, as if it were barely there to hold in the new sensations that were coursing through him.
Magic.
“I don’t believe it.”