JW (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goldeneyeball) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
eswareinmal2012-01-26 06:54 pm
goldeneyeball) wrote in eswareinmal2012-01-26 06:54 pm
Entry tags:
Action/Log/Thingy Day 6
Characters: JW and viewers like you!
Open?: Sure is!
Where: Around town
When: 6/RH noonish
Warnings: Wizard is fond of curses that aren't the magical kind? idek
James sat on an overturned rain barrel in a back alley near the slaughterhouse. The book, eloquently titled as ‘SPELLS’ sat open on his lap. He’d found a large square of seaglass in a garbage pile and it might as well have been a magnifying glass. He passed it over the lines and mumbled them quietly to himself. The stupid thing read like stereo instructions. He had searched the book like a child hunting for swears in a foreign dictionary but it seemed to be harder than that...
He knew he was no wizard. He was JW the angry baker, the creepy guy on the hill, the walker of the roads...but not the wizard. How in the world did they expect to do this? Part of him wanted to try one of the many, wordy spells aloud to see if he’d been gifted magic the same way he’d been given his robes. It was the same part of him that looked up ugly words in the dictionary. A larger, older, crotchety-er (yes that’s a word) part didn’t want to because it was tired of being disappointed. And possibly overheard. Nobody here seemed to know he was crazy, save the Blacksmith, who he’d told himself.
It would be too easy, way, way too easy if all magic was was pointing and saying, “Abra-ka-whatthefuckever!” and birds appearing.
His stomach growled. Old habits had slipped in quickly and convinced him to skip breakfast. Lunch was rolling by and he was sure that the air would be full of wonderful smells if he wasn’t sitting outside the butcher’s shop. The sound of dying animals also curbed his appetite. This may or may not have been a conscious decision on his habits’ part. Stupid habits. Stupid self-assigned bass-ackwards rules.
“Alright,” he told himself. “One spell. If nothin’ happens, I’m going to eat this book.”
He flipped to the front of the book and struggled through the intro, the warnings, and finally found the first spell. It was a simple pushing spell. Alright. Didn’t sound too dangerous. James got off the barrel and sat the book down. He needed something to practice pushing on. After rooting around in the alley he found an empty mug strayed from the tavern. That would do. He backed several paces away from it, set his feet apart, and instantly forgot what he was supposed to say. Swearing under his breath he walked back to the book, re-read the spell, said it in his head, then returned to the spot.
“Locom-- uh-- shit. Locamotisha!” He splayed his fingers and pointed them at the mug. He squeezed his bad eye shut and strained. Nothing happened.
8c Aw. Well. Okay., just one more time.
“Lo- locamishoshtah!” He shouted louder and pointed harder and willed the mug to do something besides sit there. What felt like electricity ripped through him and exploded from his fingertips. The mug did nothing but James himself was propelled several feet backwards, ass over teakettle.
When he sat back up the tips of his fingers were smoking and his fingernails were charred. One was split painfully. He scowled at the damage for a beat. Then he realized that it was he who’d caused it in the first place. James held his hands out as far from himself as physically possible.
DB THEY WERE WEAPONS.
HE WAS A WEAPON.
…>8D HE WAS UNSTOPPABLE.
A violent sneeze overtook him and shortly produced two white doves. James coughed and gagged on feathers as he watched the panicked birds disappear over the rooftops.
“Oh, what the actual fuck.”
It was gonna be one of those days.
[[OOC: Feel free to happen by and observe, laugh at, try to help, or be cursed by the wizard-in-training. Fear not! All magical shenanigans are temporary and weak.]]
Open?: Sure is!
Where: Around town
When: 6/RH noonish
Warnings: Wizard is fond of curses that aren't the magical kind? idek
James sat on an overturned rain barrel in a back alley near the slaughterhouse. The book, eloquently titled as ‘SPELLS’ sat open on his lap. He’d found a large square of seaglass in a garbage pile and it might as well have been a magnifying glass. He passed it over the lines and mumbled them quietly to himself. The stupid thing read like stereo instructions. He had searched the book like a child hunting for swears in a foreign dictionary but it seemed to be harder than that...
He knew he was no wizard. He was JW the angry baker, the creepy guy on the hill, the walker of the roads...but not the wizard. How in the world did they expect to do this? Part of him wanted to try one of the many, wordy spells aloud to see if he’d been gifted magic the same way he’d been given his robes. It was the same part of him that looked up ugly words in the dictionary. A larger, older, crotchety-er (yes that’s a word) part didn’t want to because it was tired of being disappointed. And possibly overheard. Nobody here seemed to know he was crazy, save the Blacksmith, who he’d told himself.
It would be too easy, way, way too easy if all magic was was pointing and saying, “Abra-ka-whatthefuckever!” and birds appearing.
His stomach growled. Old habits had slipped in quickly and convinced him to skip breakfast. Lunch was rolling by and he was sure that the air would be full of wonderful smells if he wasn’t sitting outside the butcher’s shop. The sound of dying animals also curbed his appetite. This may or may not have been a conscious decision on his habits’ part. Stupid habits. Stupid self-assigned bass-ackwards rules.
“Alright,” he told himself. “One spell. If nothin’ happens, I’m going to eat this book.”
He flipped to the front of the book and struggled through the intro, the warnings, and finally found the first spell. It was a simple pushing spell. Alright. Didn’t sound too dangerous. James got off the barrel and sat the book down. He needed something to practice pushing on. After rooting around in the alley he found an empty mug strayed from the tavern. That would do. He backed several paces away from it, set his feet apart, and instantly forgot what he was supposed to say. Swearing under his breath he walked back to the book, re-read the spell, said it in his head, then returned to the spot.
“Locom-- uh-- shit. Locamotisha!” He splayed his fingers and pointed them at the mug. He squeezed his bad eye shut and strained. Nothing happened.
8c Aw. Well. Okay., just one more time.
“Lo- locamishoshtah!” He shouted louder and pointed harder and willed the mug to do something besides sit there. What felt like electricity ripped through him and exploded from his fingertips. The mug did nothing but James himself was propelled several feet backwards, ass over teakettle.
When he sat back up the tips of his fingers were smoking and his fingernails were charred. One was split painfully. He scowled at the damage for a beat. Then he realized that it was he who’d caused it in the first place. James held his hands out as far from himself as physically possible.
DB THEY WERE WEAPONS.
HE WAS A WEAPON.
…>8D HE WAS UNSTOPPABLE.
A violent sneeze overtook him and shortly produced two white doves. James coughed and gagged on feathers as he watched the panicked birds disappear over the rooftops.
“Oh, what the actual fuck.”
It was gonna be one of those days.
[[OOC: Feel free to happen by and observe, laugh at, try to help, or be cursed by the wizard-in-training. Fear not! All magical shenanigans are temporary and weak.]]
no subject
Being a poor wizard, James could do nothing to stop it. Luckily for him, Bakura removed a few lingering side-effects that were just waiting for the right moment to surface and not a one of them would have been pretty.
no subject
no subject
"Warn a guy first, will you?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
"That and sayin' the right words? What language are these spells in, anyway?" He holds up the book he'd been given. The edges are a little crispy.
no subject
no subject
"Maybe. Thanks." Maybe he shouldn't have gotten rid of his hat. Maybe it had been important...