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Post by Nomz on Sept 8, 2024 3:08:57 GMT
New York's air is significantly different from that of Nashville. The building reaches further into the sky, towering over his shoulders like an ever-watchful guardians. All around him, people surge down streets that stretch further than his eye can see as if they are the only thing that exist in his world. The constant sound of a million voices and machinery clutters his ears as he stops at the foot of a very old building.
Stone and glass meet his eye wherever he looks and finds himself instinctively pulling his baseball cap from his head. The wind picks at his curls, only furthering to amplify his bedhead. Not that he can do anything about it. Traveling by Greyhound didn't give him many choices.
Anwir takes a steady breath, moves out of the way of a group of prep students, and steps into the library. The doors shut behind him and the difference is immediate. He would never call the building quiet, per se. Seven levels of library with even a sparse collection of New Yorkers can never truly be silent.
Right, you got this Anwir.
Several long minutes of searching finds the lad tucked down a cramped aisle of shelves and hunched over a book on Norse Mythology. He places the notepad he always carries on him on the right-hand side of the book. The Sharpie makes a quiet pop as he pulls it free of the cap in his teeth. Theoretically, if he followed the pattern on the yellowing pages and combined it with a rune he had found in a book about the Celtic alphabet, he should be able to create some type of scrying spell. Probably. Possibly.
Brown eyes traced over the symbol on his notepad a second time, ensuring that each line matched up properly. "Right. Okay. Easy as breathing." Anwir's fingers spread out across the newly drawn image and he focuses on that part of him that stops his magic from bursting into existence. He tries to lift the cap just a little, just enough for a trickle of energy to soak into the page.
Overconfidence should be a sin. Fire licks at his fingertips and his nerves are set alight with pain. His eyes snap open in time to catch the notepad and the book it is resting on erupt in sparks and flames. He jerks his hands away, dropping the book. There is a long moment between the young mage staring at his burning failure of a spell and the beginning shrill ringing of the fire alarms. Anwir jerks into action, immediately trying to stomp out the fire in a desperate bid to not be the reason such an old library burned down.
"It isn't working!"
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Post by metapanda on Sept 12, 2024 17:24:23 GMT
James was heading south down fifth avenue with Kingston when he felt it. There was a spark. Small. Almost not noticeable. He stopped at the foot of the stairway that lead past Patience and Fortitude into the New York Public Library. He glanced around, trying to figure out where the source of magic had been, and saw the smoke coming out of the library. He was uncertain if there was any connection between the two, but it felt likely. None of the people around him were even reacting to the smoke. He could feel them breathing down his neck. This was the most active they had been in a long time. The only way they could have been more present was if they were physically here, and that would have caused all sorts of issues. He was uncertain if reality would have been able to handle that much metaphysical power all in one place. New York City certainly would not have lasted long. Something had them riled up. Something big perhaps? He knew something was coming. Athena had made sure of that. What that was he was still figuring out. That was a mystery for another time though. He needed to deal with whatever was agitating them before New York City became a war zone as they threw around their power to solve whatever issue this was and inevitably grew angry with each other. They were like toddlers when it came to working together and sharing the spotlight. Thunder rumbled through the clear sky, causing him to smirk. It seemed they didn't like the comparison. Everyone's attention was now on the building. It seemed the smoke was real. Perhaps someone had woken up a dragon's egg, or was playing with a dangerous artifact. James hoped that neither of those were the case. Amateurs were dangerous enough without a dangerous artifact in their hand, and a ravenous baby dragon was not exactly a walk in the park either.
The possibilities didn't seem very exciting with the tendency for such dangerous things to show up in the hands of unsuspecting humans. It wasn't like he didn't think he could handle it. He certainly could easily handle it, but this was all rather inconvenient. James pushed his way through the crowd. Thankfully their attention was on the building, so they didn't notice his clothing changing into that of his more heroic persona. He didn't need these people and their camera phones recording him walking into a burning building. It would draw unwanted attention to him. Kingston followed behind him, panting softly in excitement. A concerned look crossed Kingston's face for a moment as people began to notice them. Someone called out something about the fire fighters already being on their way. Someone else called out something about how a dog shouldn't be going into a burning building. They were smart enough to at least not approach him. It seemed the porcelain mask was having the desired effect. James felt the power within Kingston grow as his familiar siphoned a bit of power from him. Kingston gave the crowd their answer by softly barking. Despite the softness of the bark, it seemed to echo much louder on a metaphysical level. Kingston's bark conveyed the danger the crowd was in just being this close to the building. Instinctively the crowd began to move back. James barely acknowledged them, his face remaining blank behind the mask. His eyes glanced toward his familiar, a simple thought passing from him to Kingston,"Good boy." He entered the building ignoring the people who were running out. With a simple gesture he created created a breeze that protected him from the smoke. He made his way toward the source. He understood why the gods had been so upset immediately as he saw the section of the mythology section on fire.
Faith was a complicated thing when it came to the gods. Few people believed in them any more, though with recent events that was changing. Faith wasn't just about belief though. Attention was just as important. Thinking about them. Sharing their stories. Those things were just as important. It wasn't as good as genuine acts of faith and sacrifice, but as long as there was someone who remembered the stories and who shared the stories it was practically impossible to kill them for good or even seal them away permanently. James eyes surveyed the situation, appraising every little detail. He noticed the panicking younger man. Everyone else was running. Behind the mask James's focused on the younger man, appraising Anwir. He didn't seem like a threat, but he was certainly an amateur. Anwir didn't seem to have any dangerous relics, so James was curious what he had done to cause this fire. It didn't seem intentional. Kingston let out a soft growl, focusing James's attention back. Dealing with the rapidly spreading fire would be difficult without knowing the cause of the fire. Anwir seemed to be glowing with a soft light in James's eyes. Behind the mask James's eyes shifted to Anwir's shadow, seeming to notice something before meeting Anwir's eyes and said,"Interesting. Show me exactly what you did to cause this fire." There was a hint of an accent in James's voice that wasn't entirely American. His tone was surprisingly calm given the situation that they were in.
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Post by Nomz on Sept 15, 2024 1:45:53 GMT
"I am so sorry," Anwir mumbles under his breath as his shitty airwalks come down on the open book again. Stress and worry thread together in his tone and along the frown twisting his lips. Of all the things he had come to the city to do, burning down books and buildings had not been on his list. He pauses as he hears the low growl of a dog of all things.
Brown eyes lift from the fire for a brief moment only to be taken aback by what he sees. A boxer stands next to an oddly dapper man in an old-ass, broken-ass mask. Maybe this is just a dream?
"Oh, uh." Anwir closes his mouth, lips pursed a little in thought. Welp, if anyone is a mage, it would be the guy with a dog in a burning building. Or, he's the devil. He removes his foot from the fire and pulls out the smaller notebook he always keeps in his pocket.
"It was like this-" He says even as he starts tracing out the same runes he had been working on, only he doesn't add any magic this time. If the worn edges of the notebook didn't give away how much use it has seen, the fact that Anwir has to turn almost to the end of the book would. "It was just supposed to be for scrying. Clearly, I fucked up."
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