irisnetwork | un: weaseling

Ay, I know that! I didn't say you were. It was an example. There's other reasons powers don't work their best. It's a focus thing.

I'm just saying, if you wanted to, it could be something to look into.

yeah yeah
I dunno
I'm fine

...If you say so.

If you ever change your mind though, I can offer tips. Perfectly free, no pressure to test it.

[Mostly since he wouldn't be able to help test it for long.]

you're free to say whatever the fuck you want

[Give him tips but don't make him ask for them........]

It's easier to do that when I don't have to hide, mijo. You know that.

This all going to sound like it's super obvious and super corny too, but I swear by it and I know others who do too. And I'm going to talk about blight, but let me get there, this is more universal than that.

When I first got here I really didn't know anything about spells. I knew Imelda could do them and mi hija would too, little things here and there sometimes, but it wasn't something I considered myself able to do. And then, with blight, I wasn't sure where the heck I was supposed to be pulling this magic stuff from. But I was listening to a lecture one night in one of the evening classes, heard some talk about how candles pull on their radiance as the source of power and channel into whatever it is they do unconsciously and it hit me. I had magic the whole time, I was just using the wrong batteries, so to speak.

Blight itself is a source of magic, different from a candle's flame but still something. I use magic to shift back and forth, as you know, and I do so consciously. Just being here, most of us have some kind of ability we already tap into at will. So, if I want to do a spell, put forth magic into it, then what I need to do is kind of trick my blight. I draw on power I know how to use and then I push it in another direction just before it takes hold. If I want to do a spell for light for example, I draw on my blight and channel it, usually lighting up a little bit myself without shifting.

Now, to channel it, it's good to visualize. You want to find the power you'd usually use and imagine it extending past you, just in the moment of doing a spell. This is what I'd recommend for someone struggling with spells specifically, but it also works the other way around. If you're having trouble pulling out your own magic, stuff you should have but can't seem to use, there's likely something inhibiting you. Sometimes that's another bit of magic, but sometimes it's our own minds. Plenty of cases where people know they have power but struggle to tap it, younger or otherwise. It's not something most human beings naturally come by after all.

There's a chance Imelda has said as much before, but magic is willpower. There's tricks and knowledge and skill and all that, but at it's core, basic magic is wanting bad enough without inhibiting it. You put your whole heart on the table towards what is you're trying to do.

The way that's always worked for me, both when I was figuring things out in this place, and when I felt too messed up to even think about being whole-- until Imelda recommended the same thing-- is this; think of someone who brings you joy. Like I said, it sounds silly, but stay with me. Think of someone you really, truly love. Hold them in your heart and in your mind. Whatever you're about to do, think of it being for them somehow, even just to show them. Want it until you're no longer afraid. Until your wish is bigger than your fear.

And that, by the way, is also how I learned not to be afraid of playing for crowds as a kid and to play better in general. Kind of funny how that works out.

Your radiance is blocked somehow, but not entirely. You have your color magic. You know how to use it. Reach for it. But instead of drawing it up like I'm talking about, dig deeper. Like you're holding your breath before a dive. Keep going until you feel something, but naturally so. If you're kicking yourself when it doesn't work, you're going too hard. But if you hold that important person or thing in your mind as you go, I promise you'll find something. And then, just practice. Give it time.

With any luck, some part of that will help you.

[It's a long, long while before Maverick gets back to this.]

how come shit's never like "say this specific phrase" or "do five jumping jacks" to work it's always gotta be fucking "no dumbass you ain't ~feeling~ correctly" how the fuck else am I suppose to feel
sorry I'm too fucked up and broken for you, world, goddamn

You're not fucked up, mijo. At least not any more than a lot of people, including myself. Normal human levels of messed up at most.

It's not easy because if it were easy no one would have to worry about this in the first place. But a lot of people do. You are not the first I've talked this kind of thing over with, some with and some without informational tailoring. You may not even be the last. I'm telling you this and even I've needed help and reminders.

You don't need to feel any different. It might help to punish yourself less for it either way, but hey, maybe I'm wrong. Just because it's worked before doesn't mean it will for everyone.

We can try it out. It won't be as helpful over text, maybe, but we could walk through it.

[Maybe...but he still feels uncertainty and frustration tangling up his insides.]

this kinda shit ain't exactly safe to practice with you in person

...I know. I could promise to get out of the way before it starts hurting too bad but that's not going to help you much, even if I can say that a single bit of radiance blasting doesn't tend to outright kill me. You need to be calm for this and I know you'll worry.

[Kind boy he is.]

Could do an old fashioned phone call? Speaker phone. Or if you know how to set up that video chat thing on your phone. Coco and I have done it once or twice.

[damn don't call him out like this??]

you're too young to be such an old fucking man

[Regardless, an invitation to join a video chat will pop up for him to accept or decline along with a guarded-looking Mav.]

Not so old I couldn't suggest it.

[He's still smiling softly, a laugh on his breath at that comment when he clicks through to the video chat. He's not in his dorm room or the library-- not enough privacy with either, even in the night, but he's found himself an empty classroom, a desk lamp lighting it.]

Hola, mijo. You doing okay over there?

[He rolls his eyes and sighs, shifting the phone enough that if he hadn't already guessed as much, Héctor could see he was in his room at the inn.]

Yeah, fucking fantastic. [And then before he can even take a pause, Mav huffs and spits out,] This is so fucking stupid, a waste of goddamn time.

[And now he's wasting Héctor's time, too, aaaaa...]

[Well that "fantastic" is a blatant lie but he knows Maverick by now.]

I get to talk to one of my favorite people and you get to either learn something new or call me out if I'm completely full of it. Not a waste of time at all.

Do you have anything around you can use your power on? Paper or something else?

[mrgrgr]

Uh, yeah? I got books around, I'm fucking me.

[He shrugs his shoulders and lifts his free hand.]

Just checking!

[One never knows how dedicated a person is to keeping their things intact.]

It's so long ago now I can barely remember feeling afraid, but I remember the trick and I always do it when I play. Didn't know my parents as I've said but I had an image of them and for a long time I played for them. Then for friends. Very quickly for Imelda and a long time just for her. And then Coco. I found, when I played for strangers, I couldn't find the heart in it. It felt forced and wrong. And when I played just for me, well, that was hard too. I never was very good at minding myself alone.

[Easier to care about others. So much harder to care what became of him without them.

He props the phone up carefully, so he can pull back away from it and show both his hands. His old standby spell. His markings light up under his skin, as they do when he's about to change. He mutters the incantation, moving his hands, and instead of a shift, the light pools at his hands, and then lifts, a little ball above them both. His markings keep glowing, without changing him, and he smiles warmly on the little light.]

I think of Coco, showing her things like this. Even though she can do so much magic on her own, I know she'd be thrilled. [He lets the light go out, and himself as well.] When my magic fails me, when I struggle with keeping this appearance, I think of her, who I need to be whole for, and I think of Imelda who likes me so much better like this.

...And one time I thought of you. That night you helped me. I'm sure you remember. [He takes a breath.] Okay. Grab whatever you're going to use. We'll get started. Let me know when you're ready.

[He hasn’t considered the possibility that he might accidentally destroy something, because that would be stupid. Books aren’t undead, and all he’s got is weak bitch color-changes.

Hearing that Héctor thought of him, when otherwise it was always Imelda, Coco, his loved ones... They’ve talked about being family a few times, and Mav calls him Esqueletío without hesitation, but the deeper implications of that haven’t really settled in. Héctor values him. Enough that he can be used to focus on and make magic happen. Maverick casually sets the phone aside so that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his blush shows up over the video. Good thing it’s an excuse to pick up one of his textbooks, too.]

...Yeah, okay. [He’s...ready. Though...] It ain’t something that’s pretty or cool to show off like music or making sure your kid doesn’t freak the fuck out, though. Mama can help with pretty much anything, but I dunno how to get this fucking magic to connect the dots in this case.

It doesn't have to be cool. That part doesn't matter so much as keeping someone's memory in mind and making the effort for them. But if you want to make it cool, the gold you put on Imelda's card that one time was pretty cool. Do you remember the flowers? You made sure my name wasn't on there.

[The memory doesn't sting anymore. Things worked out and he's happy.]

Spend a minute or two just using your power, changing pages, making patterns. No judgements of it, just let it be. You want to notice your power specifically.

[There's a long sigh. It's...sort of humiliating having Héctor take such a gentle, affectionate tone with him, even if Mav knows it's supposed to be grounding. Like, what, is he expected to break if he's not treated with kiddie gloves, or something? Then again, the older man has definitely seen him at some impressive lows.

But okay. Just changing text is easy enough. If that's all he's expected to do right now, he can do it no problem, the words on the textbook in front of him fading, glimmering, brightening to a blue, shifting into a rainbow gradient. Even without the visor Rex made him to help detect colors, it was becoming easier to bring forth the tones he couldn't actually see -- something he'd known already, but only consciously notices now that he's specifically made to in order to do as he's told.]

[It comes naturally of trying to teach, something he's done for ages without ever really being a teacher. Better to step easy than cause frustration.

He peers at the phone, not really able to see much but little glimpses. It's really cool, what he can see. He's got a crooked grin looking at it.

He leans back again.]

Alright. You should have a good feel for it. Close your eyes. Keep your power there at the surface. Take a breath, and without actually setting it off, draw on it as much as possible. The idea is to go inward with it as much as you can until you can find the source of it; your flame.

As you do, think of that person who means something to you, whoever it is you'd really want to do this for or share it with. Someone you want to make proud.

[Here's where things stop going so smoothly. He doesn't have to worry about how stupid his face looks with how he's got the phone angled, but it's still a background hum in his brain he has to stifle when he closes his eyes obediently and exhales. When he draws his breath in again, he tries to ignore the annoying buzz of his own thoughts berating him. Just follow the magic back where it came from. It should be warm, he thinks, because otherwise the whole naming convention as even dumber than it already was, and thinking about Ramona was an inner warmth as well.

It should be easy. It should be, but he can't fucking do it. He can't connect the wires long enough to make so much as a spark, not when he tries to trace the unnatural magic back and instead of leading to the same place of comfort and support, it runs even deeper in. Magic -- specifically a brilliant, radiant magic he could use to fight back against vampires and other creatures he so insistently hated -- was a dark, fearful, angry pit in his gut. It's a dead flame, just like he almost had been over and over and over. And he was one of the lucky ones.

Maverick doesn't feel any different even after a fair bit of time has passed, but he cracks open an eye to cautiously check all the same. Not only is he not glowing like a goddamn lightbulb, but the words on the page have returned to a cold black.]

Fucking -- what the shit -- [UGHH. He slams the book shut and chucks it across the room with a frustrated growl.] Fuck you, that's fucking bullshit!

Maverick!

[He starts, the moment the book is picked up and slammed. His hands go out but the only thing he can do is take the phone. There's more cursing, the furious sort, and he can't tell if it's directed at the book, him, or Maverick himself.]

Maverick, hang on. Please. It's- It's okay. Stay with me.

[His brows knot together. He holds his breath and waits.]

What happened just now? Can you walk me through it?

[All of the above. But at least he manages to bite back -- literally, he has to bite down on his tongue -- a slough of insults directed more pointedly at Héctor for trying to get him to calm down when he's acting perfectly reasonably, thank you very fucking much!]

How the fuck should I know?! I told you, I've never been able to do this shit! Apparently I'm too fucking stupid to do it even when I'm given a goddamn step by step fucking guide! I'm just shit at magic, jesus shitting fuck!

You're not stupid, you know you're not, and you're not bad at magic either. You were doing your usual just now. And you've healed me before too. You're not the problem here, okay? Getting it the first time rarely works for anyone.

[He sighs. He needs to de-escalate this if they're going to try again but he doesn't know if he can. Or if Maverick will let him.]

Talk to me. Please?

[Instead of responding right away, Maverick mutters more curses and hauls off the bed so he can snatch up his cigarettes. It's basically a miracle the phone gets shoved into his hoodie pocket instead of being left behind when he exits the room and makes his way up onto the roof. Pretty much anyone else and he would have absolutely been done with this.]

Would it kill you to shut the fuck up instead of treating me like a goddamn child? I know I'm shit at it, fucking trying to say otherwise just makes us both assholes. [hrm.

The screen is still dark, thanks to the time, but at least it isn't just the inside of his hoodie and a rhythmic click as it hit against his knife. Some frustrated attempts later, he manages to activate his lighter, takes a drag, and huffs out a swirling mess of smoke that wisps across the video. He still doesn't let it show any part of his face, not that his expression could be anything but angry.] What the fuck you want me to say?!

[The screen goes dark and Maverick is on the move. He sinks down, leaning into the desk he's seated himself at and waiting, wondering if Maverick will remember him. Sure enough, he does, eventually. He sighs.]

I stand by what I said. I'm not going to change my mind because you're angry about it.

[Because he's not a kid anymore. Fifteen years ago and he'd have caved in an instant.]

I'm not expecting anything specific, Maverick. I'm just trying to work through this with you. I don't know how you feel or what runs through your head. You have to let me in if I'm going to know that. I can only take guesses and I don't want to trample in with assumptions when you already feel terrible.

un: weaseling

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