Nicholas Hart couldn’t believe he was making his first house call. His feelings on the milestone were a mixed bag. On the one hand, he felt a bit festive about his first house call. Something to celebrate. Something to commemorate. On the other hand, he felt a sting of anxiety, maybe a bit of that sinking feeling of guilt, as well.
Was he competent?
Should he have cleared it with someone first? One of his professors? His Aunt Darcias? His mother?
He wasn’t terribly worried about it. He wasn’t treating any serious ailments. He’d been called on to deal with what seemed to him to be a minor haunting in the beachside cottage used as a vacation rental on Air BnB. The owner had noticed a string of reviews describing creepy events in the house as well as vague constitutional symptoms from her renters. Nic had read some of the reviews. Creepy sounds, knocks, whispers, banging noises, headaches, nausea, vomiting, disorientation, sleep walking.
Rather run of the mill haunting. It was a housecall, because he was treating a house. He chuckled to himself. Clever.
He did wonder why in the world the woman had contacted him to take care of the problem. She had explained that a downturn in business from her poor reviews left her without enough cash to pay a solo practitioner so she sought the pro bono services of a student at the magical college. She said he of all people had been highly recommended. Nic wouldn’t argue with a boost to his ego.
Of course he could deal with a minor haunting.
He’d done it before at one of his own rental properties. Got the thing for a steal expressly because it was haunted. And now it wasn’t thanks to him and he enjoyed an influx of cash every month from his tenant.
Of course he could deal with a minor haunting, he reminded himself.
Nic parked some distance away from the home he’d been called to. He wanted the time to walk, smell the salt air, and think. It had rained recently. The ground was damp and the sea air felt cool but thick from humidity. Nic went through the things he had brought with him in the leather satchel that bumped against his hip. He wondered, briefly, if he’d overdressed in a full suit. He wanted to make a good impression.
Approaching the cottage, he pushed open the wooden gate that looked worse for wear and walked carefully along the dilapidated stone path that led to the house. The stones were mostly covered in a slimy green film from the near constant wet conditions by the beach. The yard was generally overgrown but someone had taken the care to keep the stone path clear. He wondered just how long it had been since she had a vacation renter.
It looked rather abandoned.
He raised his hand to knock on the door anyway but it was jerked open before he made even a sound. A tentative and very petite woman with grey hair and deep wrinkles opened the door. Nicholas tried to keep his surprise in check. He wasn’t expecting an elderly human.
“Hello, Ms. O’Hare.” He said pleasantly. “I’m Nicholas –”
“Hart. Yes,” she cut him off and waved him in with fingers so gnarled and twisted with age they made the young Nic stare. He hadn’t much experienced the ravages of age. Really, he had taken efforts to avoid encountering it. “I know who you are.” She said rather ominously. “Prince Nicholas Owen Hart, First of his Name, Echo of the King, Imperial Mage.”
Nicholas felt somewhat rattled and a little spooked by the recitation of his titles in the way she did it. Like it was delicious to say to her. “Yes ma’am. Please, feel free to call me Nicholas,” He said, trying to stay pleasant in the face of her odd way of being. “So… the house?”
She touched his forearm with her spindly fingers, guiding him to come inside.
Nic hesitated before allowing himself to be pulled into the room. He freed his arm from her grasp and turned to place his bag on the arm chair she had in the living room. “I brought some—” He gasped when he felt the spell hit him and whirled around in surprise. He raised his hands to defend himself but it was too late. She had bound him. He watched the silvery bindings wrapping around his arms trapping them to his sides. “What is–! Ms. O’Hare I need you to release me if you want me to help you with your house.” He said trying to remain calm.
“Pease, call me Auntie.” She said producing a very sharp looking knife from her stained moo moo. “I’m your Great Aunt, Nicholas. Your grandmother’s sister on your father’s side.”
Nic was not amused or interested in whatever claim she would make of him. “This is hardly any way to treat family.” He said channeling his haughty royal training.
“Tell that to your grandmother!” She snapped, voice shrieking.
“She’s dead!”
“Exactly. And I need your blood to break the curse she left me with when she died. Aging endlessly until the end of time.” She was advancing at him with the knife.
Nic squirmed against the magical bindings but she’d caught him completely off guard. “There are a lot of people who have the same blood as me.” He complained rather stupidly to stall before he yelled, “Teagan!” He knew his guard had followed him and kept her distance but she should have been near enough to hear him crying for help. She was probably lurking somewhere outside.
“Yes, but you were the easiest to trick.” She said wounding his pride. He watched her twisted fingers work, her mouth whispered something and he was knocked out cold mid-call for Teagan.
When Nic came to he was lying on wood floor in the living room. He could feel hot blood running down his forearm. He still couldn’t move. He glanced around and spied Teagan crumpled against the wall. His breath caught and he studied her for a moment deciding with relief she wasn’t dead. He could see her chest rise and fall with breath. There was nothing he could do but the one thing he had been practicing in self-study but was still shit at.
He closed his eyes and slipped into a meditative state probing for a mind to slip into. He’d only walked into his father’s dream once. Broke in, really. A little too violently. Had startled the fuck out of his dad. Had given poor dad night terrors for a week straight.
His mother’s mind was a mine field with a demon lurking in her subconscious. He’d probed at her once and felt the demonic presence and got the fuck right out again. He wasn’t sure she ever noticed but she had looked at him funny the next time she saw him.
His sibings were largely useless. He wouldn't even bother looking for them. Ethan would probably be the most useful in this situation, but he wasn't even on the island.
He'd never been even able to locate his Aunt Darcias' mind. He wondered if it even existed in a way that he could comprehend.
Once he'd gotten ra bold and tried to probe his uncle's mind. Elliot appeared to him and said "Nicholas, go to bed." His command had been a spell as it sent Nic right of meditation and made him sit up straight in his bed, so terrified that he never dared try again. He could perhaps reach out to Uncle Eli as a last resort. It was a long shot.
He expanded his search for a mind he could use. A friend. Teacher. Anyone.
Oh fuck. Not you.
Charity fucking Duquesne, the know-it-all thorn in his side at school was presently having a dream... about him! Her mind was already primed to welcome him. His presence was basically already there. All he had to do was slip in.
Fuck it, he thought as he probed into the world her sleeping mind painted. He was terrible at it even with a welcoming dream. He felt fuzzy and the world seemed blurry. The voices sounded like they were underwater. Try as he might to figure out the subject of his role in her dream, Nic couldn’t make anything any clearer. The storyline she painted with him would remain a mystery. Did she dream about him often? Maybe if he had more time he could have made a better connection. He felt as if they were at school. There were others around them. Maybe the library?
Focus Nicholas, he reminded himself. It was hard, he wasn't really even in his own head. Or was he? He didn't understand the theory of it all.
CHARITY. He screamed at her with his mind. CHARITY. HELP. ME.
With effort her figure went clear. The curvy blonde in a scandalously low cut polka dot wraptop cocked her head questioningly at him. Her red painted lips parted in confusion. Ears perked to attention. She seemed puzzled but attentive. The world around her blurred until it was just them. Nic wondered if the way she looked was his conjuration or hers. He had no idea what he was doing.
I’m bleeding out at the Driftwood Cottage, it’s on Google maps. Do you hear me? There’s a batshit crazy witch here. I --- he had enough ego to hesitate before saying ---need you to come help me.
She was giggling at him for some reason, biting one shiny pink nail and twisting back and forth rather child-like. He couldn’t imagine what could be so amusing. He wondered if he’d made her go cooky.
You really shouldn’t play around in people’s minds.
CHARITY WAKETHEFUCKUP.
Was he competent?
Should he have cleared it with someone first? One of his professors? His Aunt Darcias? His mother?
He wasn’t terribly worried about it. He wasn’t treating any serious ailments. He’d been called on to deal with what seemed to him to be a minor haunting in the beachside cottage used as a vacation rental on Air BnB. The owner had noticed a string of reviews describing creepy events in the house as well as vague constitutional symptoms from her renters. Nic had read some of the reviews. Creepy sounds, knocks, whispers, banging noises, headaches, nausea, vomiting, disorientation, sleep walking.
Rather run of the mill haunting. It was a housecall, because he was treating a house. He chuckled to himself. Clever.
He did wonder why in the world the woman had contacted him to take care of the problem. She had explained that a downturn in business from her poor reviews left her without enough cash to pay a solo practitioner so she sought the pro bono services of a student at the magical college. She said he of all people had been highly recommended. Nic wouldn’t argue with a boost to his ego.
Of course he could deal with a minor haunting.
He’d done it before at one of his own rental properties. Got the thing for a steal expressly because it was haunted. And now it wasn’t thanks to him and he enjoyed an influx of cash every month from his tenant.
Of course he could deal with a minor haunting, he reminded himself.
Nic parked some distance away from the home he’d been called to. He wanted the time to walk, smell the salt air, and think. It had rained recently. The ground was damp and the sea air felt cool but thick from humidity. Nic went through the things he had brought with him in the leather satchel that bumped against his hip. He wondered, briefly, if he’d overdressed in a full suit. He wanted to make a good impression.
Approaching the cottage, he pushed open the wooden gate that looked worse for wear and walked carefully along the dilapidated stone path that led to the house. The stones were mostly covered in a slimy green film from the near constant wet conditions by the beach. The yard was generally overgrown but someone had taken the care to keep the stone path clear. He wondered just how long it had been since she had a vacation renter.
It looked rather abandoned.
He raised his hand to knock on the door anyway but it was jerked open before he made even a sound. A tentative and very petite woman with grey hair and deep wrinkles opened the door. Nicholas tried to keep his surprise in check. He wasn’t expecting an elderly human.
“Hello, Ms. O’Hare.” He said pleasantly. “I’m Nicholas –”
“Hart. Yes,” she cut him off and waved him in with fingers so gnarled and twisted with age they made the young Nic stare. He hadn’t much experienced the ravages of age. Really, he had taken efforts to avoid encountering it. “I know who you are.” She said rather ominously. “Prince Nicholas Owen Hart, First of his Name, Echo of the King, Imperial Mage.”
Nicholas felt somewhat rattled and a little spooked by the recitation of his titles in the way she did it. Like it was delicious to say to her. “Yes ma’am. Please, feel free to call me Nicholas,” He said, trying to stay pleasant in the face of her odd way of being. “So… the house?”
She touched his forearm with her spindly fingers, guiding him to come inside.
Nic hesitated before allowing himself to be pulled into the room. He freed his arm from her grasp and turned to place his bag on the arm chair she had in the living room. “I brought some—” He gasped when he felt the spell hit him and whirled around in surprise. He raised his hands to defend himself but it was too late. She had bound him. He watched the silvery bindings wrapping around his arms trapping them to his sides. “What is–! Ms. O’Hare I need you to release me if you want me to help you with your house.” He said trying to remain calm.
“Pease, call me Auntie.” She said producing a very sharp looking knife from her stained moo moo. “I’m your Great Aunt, Nicholas. Your grandmother’s sister on your father’s side.”
Nic was not amused or interested in whatever claim she would make of him. “This is hardly any way to treat family.” He said channeling his haughty royal training.
“Tell that to your grandmother!” She snapped, voice shrieking.
“She’s dead!”
“Exactly. And I need your blood to break the curse she left me with when she died. Aging endlessly until the end of time.” She was advancing at him with the knife.
Nic squirmed against the magical bindings but she’d caught him completely off guard. “There are a lot of people who have the same blood as me.” He complained rather stupidly to stall before he yelled, “Teagan!” He knew his guard had followed him and kept her distance but she should have been near enough to hear him crying for help. She was probably lurking somewhere outside.
“Yes, but you were the easiest to trick.” She said wounding his pride. He watched her twisted fingers work, her mouth whispered something and he was knocked out cold mid-call for Teagan.
When Nic came to he was lying on wood floor in the living room. He could feel hot blood running down his forearm. He still couldn’t move. He glanced around and spied Teagan crumpled against the wall. His breath caught and he studied her for a moment deciding with relief she wasn’t dead. He could see her chest rise and fall with breath. There was nothing he could do but the one thing he had been practicing in self-study but was still shit at.
He closed his eyes and slipped into a meditative state probing for a mind to slip into. He’d only walked into his father’s dream once. Broke in, really. A little too violently. Had startled the fuck out of his dad. Had given poor dad night terrors for a week straight.
His mother’s mind was a mine field with a demon lurking in her subconscious. He’d probed at her once and felt the demonic presence and got the fuck right out again. He wasn’t sure she ever noticed but she had looked at him funny the next time she saw him.
His sibings were largely useless. He wouldn't even bother looking for them. Ethan would probably be the most useful in this situation, but he wasn't even on the island.
He'd never been even able to locate his Aunt Darcias' mind. He wondered if it even existed in a way that he could comprehend.
Once he'd gotten ra bold and tried to probe his uncle's mind. Elliot appeared to him and said "Nicholas, go to bed." His command had been a spell as it sent Nic right of meditation and made him sit up straight in his bed, so terrified that he never dared try again. He could perhaps reach out to Uncle Eli as a last resort. It was a long shot.
He expanded his search for a mind he could use. A friend. Teacher. Anyone.
Oh fuck. Not you.
Charity fucking Duquesne, the know-it-all thorn in his side at school was presently having a dream... about him! Her mind was already primed to welcome him. His presence was basically already there. All he had to do was slip in.
Fuck it, he thought as he probed into the world her sleeping mind painted. He was terrible at it even with a welcoming dream. He felt fuzzy and the world seemed blurry. The voices sounded like they were underwater. Try as he might to figure out the subject of his role in her dream, Nic couldn’t make anything any clearer. The storyline she painted with him would remain a mystery. Did she dream about him often? Maybe if he had more time he could have made a better connection. He felt as if they were at school. There were others around them. Maybe the library?
Focus Nicholas, he reminded himself. It was hard, he wasn't really even in his own head. Or was he? He didn't understand the theory of it all.
CHARITY. He screamed at her with his mind. CHARITY. HELP. ME.
With effort her figure went clear. The curvy blonde in a scandalously low cut polka dot wraptop cocked her head questioningly at him. Her red painted lips parted in confusion. Ears perked to attention. She seemed puzzled but attentive. The world around her blurred until it was just them. Nic wondered if the way she looked was his conjuration or hers. He had no idea what he was doing.
I’m bleeding out at the Driftwood Cottage, it’s on Google maps. Do you hear me? There’s a batshit crazy witch here. I --- he had enough ego to hesitate before saying ---need you to come help me.
She was giggling at him for some reason, biting one shiny pink nail and twisting back and forth rather child-like. He couldn’t imagine what could be so amusing. He wondered if he’d made her go cooky.
You really shouldn’t play around in people’s minds.
CHARITY WAKETHEFUCKUP.
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
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Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 11-18-2018, 03:54 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 11-18-2018, 05:49 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 11-22-2018, 08:19 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 11-23-2018, 09:20 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 11-27-2018, 10:27 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 12-04-2018, 09:54 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 12-10-2018, 11:45 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 11-21-2018, 10:02 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 11-23-2018, 12:50 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 11-27-2018, 12:12 AM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 12-03-2018, 11:48 AM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 12-10-2018, 02:39 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 01-06-2019, 01:35 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 01-10-2019, 11:53 AM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 01-27-2019, 11:30 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 06-04-2019, 09:21 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 06-08-2019, 09:22 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 01-17-2019, 04:06 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 03-09-2019, 01:45 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 06-06-2019, 05:15 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 08-22-2019, 05:29 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by saronym - 08-25-2019, 09:44 PM
RE: Impractical Magic [Closed] - by megs - 08-26-2019, 12:53 PM