tramitem_log | Do you believe in magic?

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Do you believe in magic?

Who: Alec, Fell, Elliot and whomever else
What: "Magic" testing
When: June 11th
Where: Meeting room

He's cleared out a space, shoving all the metal chairs and plastic tables to the side so there was plenty of room. He had thought of adding a sarcastic bucket of water but decided that it might be too confrontational. Things were going to be confrontational enough since he told Elliot and Fell different times and Fell would put up a fuss about but-- but it was better than him hovering over everything and being overly concerned. Alec was older than him and Anthony too. He could take care of himself.

He briefly checked his watch before folding his arms and leaning against the wall. He hoped others showed up but he doubted there would be much to see-- memories were one thing but this was still real life for fuck's sake.

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He narrowed his eyes. Right in the palm of his hand? It felt like cheating. He paced around the boy, checking him over seeing if there was anything he might be using to make this. He pushed back his sleeve too, checking, though gingerly, trying not to actually touch him.

There didn't seem to be anything.

Maybe there was a trigger in his palm?

"Can you douse it?"

Well, at least he wasn't in a hurry to burn himself.

Elliott waited patiently through the inspection, relieved enough by that at least, to let him check him over for tricks.

"Sure."

His fingers curled back inward and snuffed the flames without fear. He let them fall lax again, certain they'd be next to fall under scrutiny.

They did.

He looked into his hand, pressed two fingers down against his palm gingerly. It wasn't even hot. There was no trigger or anything that he could feel. It couldn't be real. It couldn't. It had to be some sort of trick. Something. He refused to believe it.

His expression got darker as something knotted high in his chest.

"Light it again."

"Okay."

No fanfare with his fingers this time; he simply willed the flames back into existence and watched them flicker while he waited for whatever came next.

Edited 2020-06-14 21:45 (UTC)

Sweat beaded the back of his neck and he swallowed convulsively. It was just an illusion then. Some projection. Some technology. Had to be. That was the only explanation.

He took a moment to steel himself and ran his hand through the flame.

It seared--

And a millisecond later his sleeve caught.

"Christ!" He flailed his arm, stumbling back as the fire raced up his arm, his heart jamming against his ribs. There was a sudden fwoosh and the sprinklers came on, cold water raining down and putting him out.

He stumbled against a wall and heaved, trying to catch his breath as his heart galloped.

Elliott extinguished the flames in an instant, but not nearly quickly enough. His heart dropped, seized by a panic that he really just set him on fire, and sprang after him.

"H-hey! Let me-" He didn't know what, but he'd do anything to help right then- until rain poured down from overhead in the form of sprinklers and solved the worst of it. "Th-thank the Goddess."

His entire body shook, unable to quite wipe the vision of Alec's sleeve going up in flames. Didn't mind the water as he fought back tears, his arms and legs going nearly nerveless even as he shifted a few steps closer.

"Are you- Goddess, are you alright? Please let me help."

"You're fine." Don't mind him wheezing. He was fine too. The boy could stop having a moment now. "My fault. I was stupid." But then as he got closer. "I don't want your help."

He had intended to arrive extra early to set up; had his supplies packed and ready and everything. And then he had taken a phone-call from a museum in New Jersey and, well. He had been distracted. It wasn't like the start time wasn't for another ten minutes or so anyway, so he should still be early--

"I'm terribly sorry I'm late." He entered in a flurry, bags of supplies in hand, including a first aid kit. "The A train was running behind and--Good god. Why is it raining indoors??" Oh. That wasn't rain. That wasn't anyone's power at all, except that amazingly clever power known as indoor plumbing manifested in the form of a fire-sprinkler system. Fire sprinkler system. Which had been set off already.

"Crowley!!" He shucked off the bags has he crossed the room to the two of them, trying not to slip on the wet flooring. Elliott earned a glare which Aziraphale was still deciding if he deserved or not, and then all fussing was directed at Alec. He tentatively touched Alec's hair, his face, then his arm, trying to help hold him upright as he attempted to check the pulse-point at his neck. "Good lord, what did you DO? You were supposed to WAIT for me, you stupid, idiotic man. Are you- Are you hurt?"

Elliott whipped around as the door opened and a familiar voice barged in.

He cowed under Mr. Fell's glare and stepped out of the way to let him handle 'Crowley' as he was apparently known.

"I'm sorry," he tried, guilt flooding his voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Get off..." He growled this but didn't have the strength to shove him off. He just needed a break. Needed to sit down for a second. To take his pills. But not in front of either oft them. He'd never hear the end of it.

"Wasn't his fault. I was the idiot who decided to play with fire. He's just a kid." So don't lay into him, Fell, he wanted to say but he had to focus on keeping his legs under him in the insistent slippery wet

His lips tightened into a thin line and he considered doing as asked and respecting the request to let Alec go. Instead, he pulled Alec's arm over his shoulder to support him and fussed over his person. "I think not. Are you burned?"

He could lecture them on their poor decisions later.

"Elliott, be a dear and find us a chair?"

He didn't expect Alec to defend him. That surprised him nearly more than how wet the floor was.

"Y-yes," he said, turning and veering straight for the chairs stacked up across the room. Carefully, carefully, giving his mind something else to focus on as he went.

Elliott brought the chair back, setting it near them and pushing wet hair out of his face.

"I tried to help, but he won't let me heal him."

"Oh will you stop fussing. I'm fine." But he lets himself be taken and sat in a chair while he compulsively loosens his tie.

"And don't talk about me like I'm not in the room. It's fine. I'm fine. Let it go." This was why he'd told Fell to come later. He felt like he was being slowly suffocated by pigeons.

"Well, I guess I understand." Magical healing provided a host of possible issues. But Alec was refusing first aid, too, so that was another thing entirely.

He stomped his foot, splashing a bit of water with the step. "No! I'm not letting it go. You invited me here, and if you really did not want someone to witness your poor choices and clean up after them, you wouldn't have included me in the first place." He was convinced that Alec could have just as easily never updated Aziraphale on his activities or provided a time and place. "Your self-destructive tendencies are getting out of hand, Alec, and I need you to understand that."

"Sorry," Elliott said again, stepping away from the pair. It felt like he was intruding on a conversation he maybe shouldn't really be part of.

"I'll um, go see if I can find a way to stop the sprinklers."

He flushed and folded his arms, then had to unfold them, gritting his teeth.

"I had to know, alright. I had to understand. To see if it was real. But you and Anthony want to put me in bubble wrap like I'm bloody china. Maybe I should just go back to Edinburgh so mum can put me in a care home. That way no one will have to pretend to worry about me." He regretted the words as soon as he said them, if only because he knew they weren't pretending but now it would be this whole thing of aching sincerity.

Shit.

"The hell of it is I still don't fucking believe it." It was frustrating. There was something wrong with him. Broken somehow. Maybe he was the freak here. The oddball. The one who didn't belong.

He gently took Alec's hands in his own, one at a time, examining them for injury. Aziraphale cradled the burned one and thought about the aloe burn salve and bandages in his kit. He should go get it, tend to the wound. The skin was red and blistery from the burns, but part of him was a little scared leaving Alec would give him a chance to run off.

"Please don't. I'd miss you something terrible." Perhaps he could try to be more considerate of Alec's autonomy and not be so protective, even if it felt like second nature.

Someone had to question everything, because they were already well on their way to believing themselves Demons and Luminaries, and rock-stars and space warriors... He could see, however, how lonely and isolating that path must be. "Objects are appearing, we are obtaining abilities we didn't have. That is undeniably real--it is happening to us, physically and against our consent. But the why and how of this is still unknown, and I've always admired your determination to not give over your faith blindly. Maybe we need you to doubt and question for us, and if so, I'm sorry for the burden that puts on you."

The sprinklers shut off only steps away, but at least he could somewhat effectively pretend not to be paying attention to the conversation at hand.

His eyes scanned the room, then caught sight of the tripod and camera with a sharp breath.

"Oh no," he said, rushing for the drenched bit of tech to see if it could be salvaged.

Edited 2020-06-15 04:58 (UTC)

No, don't touch him like that. Don't say things like that. It makes his skin prickle. His heart is already sore enough. He doesn't even want what he wants and a large part of him knows it's only the face, it's only the body, it's only the voice. If he looked like anyone else, if he was related to anyone else, it wouldn't matter so much.

He looked through damp bangs at the man, absorbing his words, feeling both vindicated and frustrated by them. Keep clawing at the brick wall, it said. Don't give up. There will be nothing for you at the end, but maybe someone will get a boost over. But that was good. That was fine. If all he could provide was a boost then maybe in some part he'd had a life worth living.

"It's nothing." And it wasn't.

He watched Elliot cross concerned over to the camera and stood up, weaving a bit and putting a hand on Fell's shoulder to steady himself, then straightening and moving past him to the kid.

"Thank you," he said, and meant it. "For putting up with all that. And sorry for scaring the piss out of you. You gave me what I needed and I'm grateful for it. But take care. Try not to be consumed by this. Keep at least one foot in this..." Reality seemed like a trigger word.

"... safer world. Just until we know more."

Aziraphale wanted to draw Alec into a hug, brush his wet hair from his eyes, wrap him in a warm blanket to dry off, and reassure him. It was clearly unwanted, despite however much he was convinced Alec needed some tenderness and affection. He reached out as Alec stepped away, hand hanging useless in the air for a second after, gazing sadly at his back.

A safer world. Was it safer, though, this reality, when they were dealing with the Bureau either way?

He offered any thanks to Elliott wordlessly and with a soft smile, grateful if Elliott had helped Alec get at least a little of what he needed out of this whole exercise. Letting the two have their moment together, he then reached out for the sleeve of Alec's wet shirt with earnest, pleading affection.

"Come. Let me put something on your hand, my dear. We can sit outside and let you dry off."

Elliott straightened, then stared. The tone itself surprised him, and the words took several more to process. A slow smile began to stretch over his face, like a hard battle finally won.

"I will," he promised, heart easing. "Whatever happened in that life is already done. This world is the one I have to worry about, now."

He caught Mr. Fell's eyes and ducked his head again, though the man had exchanged his accusing look for gratitude.

"I don't think your camera made it, though."

Hand, arm up to the elbow. He didn't want it. But he did because it was starting to burn like the blazes. He watched the relief spread over Elliott's face, unsure of what to make of it. He was glad at least the boy would remain somewhat sensible about the whole thing. Even if a little, it would be more than enough.

He groaned and tugged a hand through his hair as the state of the camera was pronounced.

"Oh for fuck's sake. You would think these could be made waterproof." He gave Elliott a beleaguered look, ignoring Fell's tugging for now. "Don't think you could heal that, could you?"

Digital machines were always so feisty about water and the slightest bumps, frankly one of the reasons Aziraphale never really trusted them farther than he could throw one. Hopefully they could salvage it, even if the proof of their efforts was on Alec's skin.

Ignored, he reluctantly (and a little huffily) let Alec go to cross over to the camera himself, giving the thing a pout as if it might come around if he coaxed it enough. Though he suspected he'd have about as much luck fussing over the camera as he had with coaxing Alec to let him bandage his hand.

"I'm sure it's not entirely lost," he said with a certainty born of absolutely no expertise in the matter, but meant to reassure. He circled the tripod and Elliott, hands waving a little at the ridiculous Camcorder thing. "Don't you just-- I mean, what is it you do? Put it in rice?"

He laughed. "What- heal the camera? I don't think it works on things like that."

Elliott stretched his hand out, the tattoo on the back of his hand lighting up as a faint green light suffused his fingertips.

"I don't think I've ever heard about rice actually working."

He shook his head, glow fading and hand lowering. "I might be able to retrieve the video file off the phone's internal storage if the port isn't shorted out."

That glow made him queasy somehow. It looked like tech. Like some big budget movie CGI. Or as if there was a port hidden under his skin. He felt uneasy around it in a way he couldn't describe and it send the hair rising on the back of his neck.

He staunchly ignored it.

"Well if you can save anything from it-- video file... disc-- They don't do that any more, do they? Something. If not I suppose we'll just have to bin it." A waste of money, perhaps, but he had no one to blame but himself for that.

His damp sleeve moved uncomfortably against his arm and he pulled in a breath before he could help it.

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