Chapter Text
Nous is many things. Merciful isn’t one of them. Yet, at the same time, you cannot call THEM ruthless, in a sense.
The truth is, Nous is merely a toddler. An innocent, naïve child asking the most bizarre questions, not understanding the weight of it, yet wanting to know everything about it. the aeon’s, annoyed by the influx of question and wishing THEY would just shut the fuck up, ascended THEM into aeonhood. An amusing thought passes through your mind. Was Nous technically speaking the Ipad kid between aeons? The little child oh so curious about the world around them, and rather than being given proper explanation and answers by the adults, they were given accessibility to something their mind could not comprehend yet? Is this why THEY have become non-verbal in recent amber eras? Have they gotten stuck in the brain-rotting trance of colors and information being consumed faster than light itself?
Even though Nous is one of the only aeons the world knows most about, their presence still leaves you with more questions than answers. A rather befitting narrative for the super-computer. You’ve once asked Screwlum, “what was it like to meet Nous? What did they look like up-close?” It was the first time you’ve ever seen Screwlum go silent, to see him not answer quickly and outright like he always does. You worried he might’ve malfunctioned for a moment, perhaps a gear in his mind overloading with information from such a strange question. After all, aeons are weird. To be in the presence of an aeon is like being stuck in an illusory state of half-consciousness, unsure of what is true and what is not. However, that’s merely what you heard from your previous mentors, the ones who achieved glancing at an aeon that they devoted their magic too. You yourself have never met an aeon, and you cannot really wonder which aeon you’d ever want to meet. You’ve never chosen a path, because magic was in all of them and none of them all at once. Magic was something international, in a sense. It was laid within every path someone takes, and you could never escape it. whenever someone asks what aeon you follow and praise, you become non-verbal like Screwlum was at that moment. You don’t feel any connection with any of the aeonic paths, let alone strive to follow one. Your path has never been clear, and you frankly, dislike the very idea of one. Aren’t human lives supposed to be chaotic? To have freedom of choice? Our paths are forever changing, whether we like it or not, so you for one, never wanted to clear away yours, because you knew that no matter how many times you clear out the snow that hides your path, more snow takes up that space at some point. So the best thing you can do is just..walk on it. its slippery, hazardous and you may or may not break your skull or die from hyperthermia from choosing such a method, but the shrill of the cold makes the road excitable, it makes it feel right.
“……elderly…yet… childish .” Screwlum finally answered, with a hesitancy that astounded you.
You never understood what he meant, never could quite grasp his strange and short-cut answer (to this day, you still couldn’t believe that Screwlum , the constant champion of blabber, could ever even consider given a ‘short’ answer.) that is, until now, as your curious mind led you to the guild’s library in your free periods, mindlessly reading about the history of aeonhood and all the information we do know about them.
Despite never wanting a path, you can’t help but admit that the aeons have always interested you. though yes, you don’t like devoting your life and goals to them, that doesn’t mean you don’t want to get to know them. It’s like when someone doesn’t want someone to be their leader, but does like the idea of having them as a friend.
‘…does that even make sense?’ you sigh as you flipped to the next page,grumbling at your own constant spacing out and travel of thought. Your excuse for wasting such a good and rare free time was wanting to find a decent research subject to write about, and yet, you can’t think of a single good idea that can aid you.
Though information about aeons are limited, that doesn’t mean people haven't researched all they can about them. Anything you ever wanted to cover, has already been covered several times in several books. The aeons literally have an entire, ginormous bookshelf dedicated to merely their history. Truly, you’re in your wits end here.you know for sure that everything and anything about magic has been covered, so you can’t even consider that an option either.
Holding yourself back from groaning in annoyance and breaking the peace and tranquility that laces the walls of the library, you purse your lips in a grunt and shut the book, unfortunately earning the ‘shush!!!’ from the librarian that you’ve been desperately trying to avoid.
“ah, wanderer,” it’s interesting how one can easily decipher Ratio from merely his voice. it’s entirely unique, in a sense. The confidence, the brevity of brilliance and intellect, brims within the very confinement of his voice. or, in your home planet's language, he sounds like a nerd. You turn around, deducting that you were in fact correct, it is Ratio, who was staring down at you with a tinge of curiosity laid within a gaze of monotone boredom. Once again, you see him without his alabaster head.it shocked you, and without realizing it, your mouth formed into a small pout as your eyes roamed his face, a bit disappointed the most intriguing part of his outfit has been gone for quite a while now… “I’ve been looking for you.”
“the great doc has been seeking me?” you gave a cheesy grin, one which he rolled his eyes at as he sits down beside you. “Why I’m quite a lucky guy.”
“don’t let it fool you to even further unnecessary boasting to your already fragile ego,”
“—ouch doc, you really know how to wound an already injured deer, don’t you?”
He ignores your mock of hurt and continues. “— I merely came here to tell you about our rendez-vous time. This could have been a quick, short message if someone didn’t hide their account within the group chat.”
“better safe than sorry.” You shrugged, closing your book. Ratio takes this time to eye your table, first giving a raised brow of curiosity as he reads the title of the book you were reading, one that quickly morphs into disappointment when he sees your supplies. He picks up your silly dinosaur pen, eyeing it critically.
“How on earth can you write with these?” he scoffed, turning the pen left and right, eyes glued to its tip, humming in displeasure.
“Well,” you gave a cheshire grin,a teasing glint in your eyes.” first you grab the pen, then you—“
“—I mean, how do you make sure your calligraphy is good with it?” he cut off your light-teasing, giving you a roll of his eyes at your mused quips. He then taps the tip of the pen with his finger, then quickly wiping off the dot it formed on his fingertip. “..it is not suitable for writing at all. not to mention this.. thing on it." He slowly taps the dinosaur with googly eyes as if it was an unknown, grimy and discolorful bacteria he must tread careful with. “..it limits your comfortability with the already unsuitable pen tip.” He looks at you sternly. “a good pen needs to be functional. Not… silly .”
“I write fine with it.” you replied back nonchalantly. Ratio gives you a glare, then eyes your open notebook.
“hardly.” He said dryly. “I thought these were an orphan’s scribblings.” He motions to the notebook. You try to hold back your snort, giving him a playful glare.
“it’s a good thing I am one, then.” You tried your best to hold bac k your giggle as his eyes widen from your reply, mouth the slightest,tiniest bit agape and at a loss for words. “and frankly speaking, it’s hardly the pen’s fault. It’s just how I write when I’m too focused on my thoughts to write in a proper and clean way.”
He stays quiet for a moment, perhaps still shocked by your previous quips, he then hums and eyes the pen again. “it still limits one’s capabilities of proper calligraphy.”
“how about we test that theory, then?” you suggest, and he gives you a curious look in response. “borrow my pen and write with it for a while. Then compare your notes.”
He tries to look into your eyes to rule out if this offer of yours was out of deception or genuine, mutual curiosity of his theory. When he finds none, he contemplates your offer for a moment, then mutters to himself. “…it certainly would be a nice break between projects…”
“..you take research as breaks ?” you looked at him in slight disbelief.
His posture straightened a bit, eyebrows furrowing an inch closer than before. His usual stoic look now the tiniest bit defensive. “…I dislike having my mind unoccupied.”
“..I see.” You wonder, how one earth can a mind be unoccupied? Your head, no matter what you do, is always filled to the brim with thoughts,voices and memories. You’re always thinking of something, to the point where the only way you can escape your chattery mind is by forcing it to sleep, to shut down and stop yapping about some inconsequential and non-helpful topic it's stuck in. What is it like to have a quiet mind? To have a mind that can keep quiet for once to the point where you try to make it talk,rather than stop? With a shake of your head, you dispel the thought train. “So, where’s the rendez-vou point, oh great calligrapher?”
Ratio rolls his eyes at you, still eyeing the pen with utter reverence and infatuation. “lounge room, off hours.”
“you mean..the usual then?”
“No, not the usual.”he lets out an exasperated scoff, putting the dino pen down. It was as if you’ve asked a simple, catastrophically mundane question. a blabber of insolence. You would be taking offense, however, his gaze seemed troubled, etched with concern as he peered down at you. concern for you. it made you rethink his actions entirely. “The last thing you need is another hour awake far past the amount a human body can handle.” It was charming, in a way. How his doctor-like tendencies etch even within the confines of his seek for more knowledge.
Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but tease. “worried about my health, doc?”
He lets out a grumble at your cheshire grin, nose scrunching up, and whether he was annoyed, embarrassed or both, was a complete enigma to you. he tried to relax the muscles on hus face, to detangle the wrinkles forming on the bridge of his nose and eyebrows to somehow prove your lack of seriousness towards the matter, especially that matter being all about your own well-being, doesn’t affect him at all. “No.” he spoke firmly, a cutting tone within his voice. “I merely don’t want the case of a brain aneurysm happening in my office. It’d be quite tedious to deal with, and a hindrance to my pursuits, wanderer.”
“I’m wounded,doc.”
“physically speaking, you are not. Mentally? Most likely. Sentimentally? Unimportant.”
You hold back your amused snort at his (un)intentional cut-throat reply. you can see his puzzled expression from your reaction, and his silent analysis of your behaviour. Has he never had anyone be amused by his antics? It fuels the dangerous curiosity within you to analyze his character back, but you hold yourself back from such an action, given your deeply limited information about him. He, however, probably knows more about you than you’d like. Quite frankly, everyone might know you a little too well. Whether the information they have on you is flawed or not doesn’t matter when it comes to rumours, not until someone is proven guilty and shamed for spreading such nonsense. It makes you wonder, are his expectations and pre-established views of you being broke as you speak, or is he just truly weirded out by your amusement?
A dumb meme your students use is fitting for this occasion , ‘Is he stunned you’re a chill guy, or did he just never meet anyone chill? ’ and if you dared to say it out loud, you knew a few poor nerds in this library would roll their eyes and let out an exasperated sigh as you try to use this slang as best as you could, ratio included.
After Ratio is done with his scanning of you, he quickly reiterates.“I mean , after class hours, Wanderer.” His eyes narrow at you, ever critical and sharp, forever in a stern furrow, all while, comically enough, he puts the dinosaur pen in his pocket, the silly little figurine sticking out like a sore thumb. Your stare must;ve been obvious, because when his voice cuts back and you look at him, he looks at you with a tinge of annoyance, exasperation, and if anyone dares to say it, slightly flustered. “we will be working for only four hours a day on this project, from seven p.m sharp to eleven. I do hope you have a car.”
“…I don’t.”
“Then you live nearby?”
“nope.”
“ah.”
“..do you have a car?” you hesitantly asked.
His face seemed blank, almost neutral, and unlike usual, there was no other intent behind his gaze. It truly was nonchalant.the godforsaken joke goes through your head again, this time the chill dog dressed as ratio. God, these kids will one day be your undoing, you’re sure of it.“No.”
“..then I presume you live close by?” you inquired, and yet, he shook his head.
“I do not.” He replied with a huff, and you swear, the huff was..amused. prideful,even. His neutral frown slightly quivering into a smirk the more bewildered and confused you look at him. you know this is somehow a trap, an entrapment of bragging, that is, but he didn’t seem eager for the bait, more like, he expected such a bait, as if he has had this conversation time and time again, and he’s uninterested in whether or not you will be curious enough to fall into this little riddle as well.
“so...I’m guessing you take a ride back home?....” without realising it, you’ve been tapping your pencil to the table for these few silent, inquiring seconds. An action Ratio seemingly took note of way back, and only now does he give a glance at it before returning his gaze back to you, his hands crossing and exemplifying his utterly perfect posture.
“I jog,actually.” He hummed, the tone cool and indifferent, as if his answers weren't just confusing you further.
“….you jog?”
“yes.”
“As in run?”
“is your vocabulary pool truly that small?” he bit back, yet his tone wasn’t as sharp as you heard him be when snide remarks to others. no, this one was different, this time, he wasn’;t actually questioning your intelligence, he knew you were far smarter than that, that you can fathom such a concept, yet your mind refuses to. it’s more akin to a parent scolding you for doing the obviously dangerous task of cutting fruit. You know the knife is sharp.you know your fingers are too small and fat to holding both the knife and fruit in the right angle, so why on earth would you endanger yourself like that?
“No…” nevertheless, you took slight offense and insecurity to it. but, to br fair, that was a stupid question. hell,taking a glance at his physique, you can tell he works out. he;s like a greek statue that came to life, only somehow much more muscular yet appealing to look at..you’ve always assumed muscular men look a bit too much to handle, a bit too meaty and girthy for the average man, and yet, Ratio looked…perfectly fit.not too slim, not too muscular, yet well-toned and muscles obviously poking out like his biceps…they’;re just somehow, in some unfathomable way, the perfect amount. And that fact leaves you in disbelief. Given how you yourself, are the pinnacle of illness.
“…are you checking me out, wanderer?” Though filled with teasing, cutting curiosity, it flowed within a stream of slight disbelief in his voice, and you quickly zone out of your thoughts, cursing yourself mentally as you scramble for an explanation.
“I just…realized some things.”
“ oh ?” the amusement in his voice somehow annoys you. you feel embarrassment flood into your nerves as you look away from his gaze.
“the jogging,” you huffed, trying to somehow let out at least some bit of the shame you feel now. “ it explains your…physique.”
“ clearly .” He stated, only fueling your embarrassment. “but I must inform you that it's not merely ‘jogging’ that aided me in my quest for a sustainable, healthy life.” his tone that was once teasing now soothed into something akin to excitement, excitement for teaching, to be exact. His eyes ever so slightly shifted and lit up when he noticed you still listening, intrigued by the topic. “One must have a perfect balance between exercise and diet. In fact, if one wants to lose weight, proper nutrients and meals are the way to go.” His posture straightens a bit, his voice monotone and informative. Although his sharp, golden gaze was aimed at you, it wasn’t exactly…at you. rather, it was off into his own,much more logical and mathematical dream-world.it made you wonder, what does the inside of his mind look like? What is his perspective on life? Is it all just pure mathematical gibberish you won't understand a monochrome of? Or perhaps there’s more to him than being purely, and genuinely, a huge nerd. “the most important part of a being’s health consists of what they consume- and so, you must make sure there is a dietary balance to your meals. Not too much fat. Not too much sugar. But also, no restricting them. Your body still needs the sugar and fat, but only a certain amount. Completely excluding them from your meals will only worsen your health.”
You nod, trying to not smile in absolute amused guilt because you definitely do not take care of your health in general, let alone dietary health. Ratio gives you a slight scrutinizing glare, a frown of disappointment and expectation on his face, as if you were a thief caught stealing the same bank twice this week. Expected, but not wanted. It’s a frown you’re very much accustomed to. you’re certain that if Screwlum ever had functioning lips, he’d give you the same tilt of his mouth. In fact, you believe that his deafening silence to some of your self-destructive jokes are his way of implicating that frown.
“don’t look at me like that!” Despite your laughter and protest,his gaze was still in deep thought, still roaming your figure to try to outline something that was out of place.anything that could make you crack. Being Dr.Ratio’s subject of interest was horrifying, and a bit flustering if you may admit, and you’re so glad his preferred subject to teach was mathematics rather than, say, psychology. “I don’t really know much about health sustainability to add to this conversation..” however, had it been about magic health/energy sustainability, you’d be able to ace this whole quiz-of-a-conversation with him. Nevertheless,seeing him ramble was always a treat. Though you’ve only seen it thrice by now (once being when you accidentally saw him at the library a few months into your new job, as he was tutoring a poor student, alabaster head on and immediately catching your attention with such an out-of-the-blue outfit choice.), it was always his utter certainty and confidence laced with the controlled passion of his that always charmed you.
When he finds nothing, he lets out a sigh himself, a disappointed one, yet, not disappointed at you…but himself. “That is clear as day.” He replied back, bringing back the much-needed sarcasm and amusement to the conversation once more.
“you know this can very easily be considered bullying?” you grinned. He only rolled his eyes.
“It's not bullying if I’m stating the obvious.” Though he tried to keep his voice as bland as possible, you could still hear the tremor of amusement, the strong grip he had on himself to not laugh as he replied, crossing his arms to somehow mentally gain a shield. Because if you are going to wear a mask in front of him, then so will he. It’s just a shame he didn’t have his alabaster head on today.
You gave a mock of a hurt gasp, eyes twinkling with slightly giddy as you dramatically put a hand to your heart. “that hurt, doc.that one really hurt.”
He doesn’t say anything back, only gets up, and you presume he just doesn’t find this conversation beneficial of his time anymore. As he turns around to walk away, he only gives you one more glance back, a glance that made you only want to decipher what his true intentions, his true emotions about you, were.
“don’t be late, wanderer.”
-----
Nanook didn’t scare you.
In fact, a part of you believes that Nanook is the one watching over your life. you’re a mere pawn of THEIR game. The game of destruction. At some point in these light years of your dreadful, magical existence, you felt like THEIR golden eyes were piercing through you, watching your every move with bated breath, wanting to see how the follower of no path, the wanderer of space,time and religion itself could crumble beneath THEIR feet.
Nanook once spoke to you.
It was through one of your trainings- a harsh, mind-breaking regiment one of your master’s made you go through. He was an emenator, though he never told you of which path exactly, and his actions were so utterly strange, such contradictions to one another that you could never truly decipher his path yourself. Whatever his path was, he was a master of all cosmical psychosis magic because of it. and it was one of the very few magic abilities you have been yet to learn, and were desperately eager to get your hands on it.
“..magic of the psyche is not to be trifled with.” Was his first words to you.no hello, no welcome, merely a far-off gaze to the boundless stars circling through the window of your mentor’s space station. “…your care-taker, Herta, may have told you to seek all magic…” you winced at the word. Care-taker. Madame Herta was many things. She was your mentor, your first teacher, your guide through space, your first introduction to magic, but she always stated and in fact proved to you that she was no parental figure. Whatever parental figure you truly seeked, you could never find it in her, for geniuses like her are too busy to trifle with such matters. This always made you wonder, did Screwlum feel the same? Or did he try his best to be a some-what father figure out of pity? It’s a spiral of thoughts that always leaves you deep in the chains of your insecurities, and the mere, small silver-threaded connection of the word ‘caretaker’ and ‘Herta’ leaves you laughing in a mix of anguish and indifference. “…but I implore you, young witchling, think before accepting my tutelage for the next few months.” he takes a sip of his tea, then hands it to you. confused, you merely glance at him in meek-nervousness, for after all, at that time, you were still a child trapped in space, an unfortunate case of misfortune and forced abandonment. The cause of the ignorant actions of both space-kind and earthling. You aren’t comfortable in your ‘new home’ yet, let alone understand the strange mechanisms, customs and behaviors and basic common knowledge of the space kind around you. and although most of the people you’ve met here were human, you were just learning from Scream the other day how one ignorant and unbeknownst disrespect between two opposing political figures led to the total destruction of planets. The old man was human, yes, but there was something about his eyes that made you question things. They were deep shades of purple, like the galaxy was within his very pupils, and small little white dots like the sky surfed through the endless purple abyss, to most, it could be seen as an eyesore, but to you, it was like the universe was within his very gaze. And it scared you. so of course, you were deeply nervous. Unknown matters, unknown world, unknown everything. Why would he hand-out his tea to you? Does he want you to refill it? perhaps drink it? no no, that’s just strange. He wants a refill, right? or maybe he wants you to look inside and see the tea-leaves? But his glass seems full—
The man sighs, a painful, tired one that you almost mistook for a groan. He was rubbing his temples, looking at you with a tad bit of judgement. “you think too much, child.”
This breaks away your chain of overthinking, your curiosity now taking the reins over your nerves. “You can read my mind?”
“yes, but no.” His answer makes you even more confused. He chuckles at your befuddled expression. “I hear your thoughts.”
“so you’re illiterate?” a scientist walking past you both snorted at your reply, when the old man grabbed his stick and extended it out to make him trip, and soon the scientist stumbled and gave a nervous yelp as he skedaddled away.
your still-not-confirmed-mentor rolled his eyes and huffed, but there was a hint of amusement in his grumbling tone.”No, child. I can read .” He stated with slight intensity, a bit offended you thought that low of him. “Cosmical psychosis is not about mind-reading. Nor is it just the mind. It’s about all living things around you, all galactic beings and the noises their very existence makes.every molecule is alive, and even in the slightest bit, induced with magic. With that magic, we can make connections. We can reconnect and become one with space and the world beyond our physical plaine-the mind palace, itself. “ he grabs the kettle beside him, intricate starry design and a fancy purple Herta logo right on it. he pours a cup for you, the steam wafting up to the air, a lilac fragrance invading one’s senses. he motions for you to look into the cup, peer inside it, and as you do, your eyes widen in shock, baffled by the sight before you. rather than the usual murky red and brown color of steamed leaves, the tea inside your cup was filled with the universe itself. Stars and constellations, the milky way and meteorites all stir into the the liquid with fevered intensity, a magnificent beauty of black and purple all in a few drops. He wasn’t drinking tea. He was drinking space.
“Try it.” he offered a gentle hum in his tone. His words made you pause a bit, looking at him with slight doubt and a heavy amount of hesitation. He gave a slight shake of his head, a small smile on his lips.
“not to worry, child. This is merely a small drop. It won’t hurt you.”
Yet, his words felt somehow hollow. You can feel the warmth of the cup slowly evaporating. Knowing the longer you stay, the worse the tea will start to taste. You slowly bring the cup near your mouth,let one tiny drop slip into your mouth and quickly drop the cup.
The pain.aeons, the pain. It was like thousands of needles and daggers had been stabbed into your very brain, your senses heightened and the world around you suddenly breaking into smaller and smaller things. You could see the molecules forming each and every crevice around you. the very essence of beings and the very ends of their core. You could taste sound. See smells. You felt like you were in another realm entirely, one that can see everything. Even the unseen. And that’s when you realized, you have become one with magic. with just one sip, you are now magic itself . The universe itself, as he said.
You have truly become one with it all, and it was dreadful.
You hear a chant, a prayer of sorts, ancient golden words being scrawled upon the fabric of reality within your sight and soon your mind seethes with a sharp rage, your sight becoming pure white until all the pain is suddenly released, your body collapsing to the ground, body shaking and sweaty as if you’ve been through a heavy work-out, your eyes closed shut and breathing ragged. You slowly peered your eyes open, seeing the ground you’ve clung to for stability, your shaking hands and the dribbles of sweat and tears that were forming the ground. All you could hear was your own horrified breathing, and that made you feel relieved. You don’t hear the unhearable anymore. You don’t feel the horrid pain anymore, and your body seems to be processing the aftermath. you could feel the old man’s presence still beside you, quietly sitting as you’re hunched up in the ground in clear agony. A part of you is offended by his lack of care, but another part isn’t surprised at all at this kind of behaviour. After all, he;s a friend of herta, and all of herta’s friends are weirdos like her. As you try to regain your sense of self and the true reality before you, your body freezes as you see a drop of blood spill down from you and onto the already tea-stained ground. You slowly lean back, letting your knees support your stability as your hands slowly come up to touch your face, and you trail your hand upon the small river cascading down your chin, all the way up to your nose. A nosebleed. One with no warning whatsoever. Your heart drops in horror, mind trying to gauge the sheer level of physical danger you just put your body through just from one sip of this cursed tea.
The man hums absentmindedly, pouring himself another cup of tea and handing you a handkerchief. “You are not ready.” You wanted to quip back with something sarcastic, an ill behaviour you’ve been slowly equipping from herta and quickly learning to avoid using in social situations as Screwlum advised you to. There was this one time a comment of yours had a researcher in the ship suddenly bawl their eyes out, horrified and distraught over how agonizingly personal and confidential your quip to them was. they were going to quit on the spot had it not been for Screwlum’s interference, and ever since then, the ‘stowaway’ of herta space station was being partially raised by the robot genius and mentored by The Herta.
You never liked that word. ‘stowaway’. While yes, you did escape from your own magic-less planet by jumping into the space-ship unauthorized when they were collecting medicinal herbs only your homeland grew, that didn’t mean you were an ‘unwanted’ being. You had a family.or at least…you presume you had one before your departure. You were quite young when you ran away, some said you were barely even five, and when you got into the spaceship, you hid in the storage room for hours until someone heard your cries behind the door. When they opened it, there you were, clutching a Wuubaboo for dear life as the fluffy being whimpered in sympathy.
When he gets no answer in return, he sighs again, shaking his head in disappointment. “trapped in your own mind once more...” he tutted. “child, if you do not find a way to control that train of thought of yours, you’ll face far more problems in the future.”
“Mr.Screwlum said thinking before any act is always a great method of strategy.” You reasoned.
“yes, but what good would thinking do, if all it does is stop you from ever taking any action in the first place?”
You frown at that, your mind already exhausted from the absolute gut-wrenching pain this conversation was. and yet, a part of you was offended, and another part, was enraged. Enraged from yourself, to be exact. You were disappointed in yourself in something you didn’t even try yet, something you didn’t even know existed till now. you’re here to learn magic, aren't you? then why the hell are you incapable of learning cosmic magic?
“When will I be ready?” you clench your hands in frustration, your voice a bit unsure of the path ahead of you.
He doesn’t say anything at first, merely sipping his tea in utter silence. Is this how he’ll always act? If so, you don’t think you’ll ever even have the patience to be a student under his tutelage. He sets the cup down slowly, only annoying you more than before, and making you look like an impatient kid waiting for their grandpa to get up and buy them candy.
“when you taste the bitterness of sorrow and loss.” His words left no room to answer,and right as you blinked, he vanished, the only signs of life left from him being his tea cup, which now didn’t emanate a warm steam out of itself. At an utter loss for words, you look around you bewildered, a desperate attempt to see where he went. With a clogged up sniff, you peer closer into the teacup on the table, only to see a note in it. you pick it up, and open the small folds around it to unravel the palm-sized piece of paper it truly is.
-when you’ve finally tasted it, come find me for a cup of tea.
---W.
“there you are Y/n! where’s Mr-?!“ the (currently, former, as Asta takes their place in later years) head researcher in the space station gasp startles you, and as soon as you turn around, they’ve already hurried to your direction. . their hands soon traced the trail of dried blood cascading down your nose,their own crinkling in worry.
“what happened? Did you hit your head somewhere?”
And you, with full clarity of mind, shook your head and answered, “I drank magic.”
With a bewildered head researcher and amused Herta, you’ve spent the rest of your years studying magic a bit less difficult than the all-consuming cosmos one. And for the longest of times, you’ve believed that you may never learn such a thing. That such magic shall never touch your skull or hear your thoughts ever again, because the pain you’ve felt the moment you’ve gotten a sip of its power was one you’ve never felt before.
However, fate has made you taste the bitterness of loss. Fate has wreaked your heart with a pain so deep, you started craving and preferring the pain given to you by the magic. for nothing cuts deeper than the stabs in one’s heart, and yours were torn to shreds when he got consumed by the abyss of his cursed existence.
So you went to him. back to W. when all was lost, when all feeling was gone, and when all you could think of was your lover’s sweet smile, his dumb chuckles, the silly dimples on the corners of his mouth. All your thoughts were consumed by him, a warrior long gone, a warrior you had to defeat, a warrior you’ve made.
You don’t know how, but your mind exactly knew where to go to find him. exactly knew where he could be, as if the cosmos themselves whispered the information into your ear themselves. And just like last time, he was sitting underneath the stars, sipping his heavy and dark tea, not even sparing a glance at you.
“I have tasted it.” your voice wavered, your movements stagnant and slow, as if the weight of grief was pulling you down. “ It is as bitter as you said it would be. More painful than your cursed tea.”
He said nothing back, and you almost considered hanging your head low in shame and walking away, thinking you were still not ready nor worthy enough for his teachings. However, the sound of a porcelain cup being placed onto the table, near the seat beside him made your interest spark again. and as the hot tea poured into the extra cup, with baited breath you’ve awaited his reply.
“then would you like to join me for a cup?”
You weren’t sure how many months have passed, but you clearly remember the blood that has been shed from your skull and bones, the lack of clarity in your mind and the mental anguish you’ve felt from your meditation, an action that was usually meant to bring peace to the mind. You remember the hallucinatory horrors of your mind, the world’s your psyche would create to try to shield you from the galaxy’s truth, something that was your task to seek. You remember how you destroyed every world, destroyed every mirror with tears and blood, screams of anguished grief and guilt echoing through the walls of the cave you’ve stayed in for months on end, the lengths you’ve put yourself through all to forget the agony you’ve led. As you destroyed your mind, destroyed your spirit, and subsequently, destroyed yourself in the process, it was with a shaky, unstable mind you’ve seen THEM.
They…looked familiar. eerily familiar. horrifically so. It was in that moment you’ve realised they were clad in an exact replica of you. a clone. The only difference being the bright,glowing and almost blazing golden eyes that swirled with the power of aeonhood, the gaze of destruction. THEY were not you. THEY only manifested into this form for a reason possibly beyond your own comprehension.
They walked towards you in slow, powerful steps, their frame looming over you with each breath you took, each time you blinked. A deafening silence overtook the dark cave as they peered into your very soul, and in a swift, harsh second, their hand, with a strength much stronger than a regular clone of yours could ever bear, wrapped around your throat, making you writhe in desperate panic as you’re pushed back into the rocky wall, small stones and dust falling down on you from the impact, cracks forming behind you. you grasped their wrist and flailed away, desperate attempts to somehow weaken their chokehold or even make them let go. Their force only tightened, making you wheeze out a breath of plea, looking up at them horrified. Their gaze only hardened, a single question uttered, yet their lips never moved once as their voice echoed through your mind.
“Where is your home, wanderer?”
“Y/n! we’re going out for coffee.you comin’?” Byron’s voice snaps you out of your trail of thoughts as you zone out from your mindless gaze into the blank screen of your computer, a word document with a trail of questions and prompts in it that all had either been researched or were not interesting enough to venture in. you clear your throat and shake your head, trying to somehow lessen the weight of the heavy thoughts in your mind as you sit up straight. “No, thanks…I think I’ll sit this one out.”
Byron gave a mock gasp, an amused grin placed on his face. “Have the aeons heard my prayers? Is my magic obsessed friend finally letting go of unhealthy habits?!” He then grabs Rina who was apparently behind him this whole time, her movements just as mocking and mischief filled as his as she clutches his shoulders.
“Oh my dear do you see this?!” Byron shook Rina.
“yes! I do!! Our child is finally touching grass!!!” Rina cried in glee.
“I hate both of you so much .” You replied in a grumble, typing away with flushed cheeks.
“We love you too.” Rina chuckled. “Just make sure you don’t stay up too late! The bags under your eyes are getting worse.”
“yeah yeah.” Your absentminded wave may have only caused more worry, but at that moment, you really couldn’t care less about your well-being. Especially since you can’t just go back home tonight just as your friend’s advice. Though..you doubt Ratio would aid you in your self-destructive conquest on staying up late. Speaking of which….
As you glance at your clock, noting the start of the evening, you finally get up and turn off your computer with remorse, wondering if you ever will find a topic before the semester even ends.
Your mind is boggled with different worries and minor issues as you make your long way to Ratio’s office, in fact, your mind was so deeply pre-occupied, that you didn’t notice the panting and running Caleb. You froze, turning around and recognizing his signature red jacket. “ Caleb? ”
Caleb stops in his tracks, sweating like bullets as he looks at you with sheepish worry, as if he’s a child who's broken a vase, and the parents have finally caught on. “prof.” he said with fake confidence, all sweetened with a nervous laugh. Your teacher instincts immediately kicked in, looking at him quizzingly.
“Why are you running?” you eyed him so sharply that Caleb gave a shuddering breath, as if he was trying to calm down his nerves.
“uh well I’m…” he takes a second too long to answer. Your suspicion deepens. “..I’m late to class?...”
“It's seven .”
“well it’s a night class!” he swiftly blurted out, grinning to himself at the self-save. “yeah I-uh- stayed a bit too long at the library and now I’m late to my…” again, he gets tongue-tied and his shoulders go under by your heavy gaze and raised brow. “ ….spanish class?”
“your what?”
Caleb buckles under your heavy gaze and nervously springs up like a spring . “y-you see prof on my planet, earth, we ha-“
“I know what Spanish is, Caleb.” You cut him off with a sigh. “ I’m from earth too.”
Caleb’s eyes widened in hopeful astonishment, his nervous troubled smile replaced with a giddy one. “Wait- really? How did y-“
“not the time, kid.” You felt bad for ruining his excitement, but you couldn’t stray away from the conversation. Especially since you’re already a few minutes late to your meeting with Ratio, and something tells you he’s the type to count down tardiness by the second.
Caleb turns bashful, immediately nodding his head in agreement (though it more seemed like an act to gain approval from an older peer) and doubled down on his lie. “ right right..I-I’m late to my spanish class, prof. I need to go-“
“But why would this planet—“ yet before you could even finish your sentence, he’s already stormed away, yelling out an apology to you as he does so. Your left confused, befuddled, and most importantly, concerned about what your student you possibly hide from you that would force him to lie this badly.
Well..whatever it was, it was something morning shift Y/n would have to deal with when in teacher mode, and now, night shift Y/n has to face the wrath of an impatient coworker.
-----
The dream bubble was acting strange today.
It seemed like the more people stayed in contact with it, the more it started to shift and change into something entirely new, a new world, a new sphere, a new dreamscape . And now, as you’ve peered into its insides to see the mechanical changes to its functions and note it down, you stiffened as you realize the once blazing fire you’ve felt by the bubble is long gone, replaced with something much more solid and unnatural, in a sense.
The element you felt thrummed with illuminary powers, able to take form and shape into whatever the possessor desires, and being known as the ‘root’ of some people’s magic.
“…imaginary.” You’ve muttered, getting Ratio’s attention away from the hologram boards. “…the bubble takes forms of different energy’s around it, and since you’ve been around it most, it’s become imaginary.”
He was quiet for a moment, and you were too consumed by the scannings of the inter-mechanics of the dream bubble to pay attention to his reaction. But for a moment too long, he stayed silent, but then finally muttered an “‘ I see. ’ “
“Can you delve deeper into the bubble this time?” he inquired, and you could hear his shoes tapping as his multitasks on both cases. you nod,and take a deep breath in, feeling your energy swirl around your arms and slide to your very fingertips, asking for the simplest of permissions.
The dream bubble, made to make people see its wondrous illusions, gladly acce[ted your request, and soon the world around you changed, yet this time, rather than the blazing scorch of fire’s inviting you to the dreamscape, everything was being meticulously added and formed, like a puzzle piece fitting all it’s pieces together, and you swore you saw some math around the world be calculated as it was formed, not something you’d expect to be in someone’s ‘greatest dreams’. But then again, it was mostly likely Ratio’s effects on the bubble, and it’s comically fitting that he’d find something as arduous as math a sweet dream.
As you’ve entered the world, you feel utterly different. Healthier, in a sense. Your head felt hazy for a moment, but as you shook away the common numbness that comes with such ordeals, you’ve got a better view of the world around you. and you almost shrieked as you saw Screwlum across the table.
Screwlum’s head tilts to you, his mind warring into thinking mode like it always has been, the butterfly on his shoulder fluttering a bit. “tone shift into concern, activated.” He began. “Question. Are you alright, Dr.Ratio ?”
It took you an agonizing minute to fully register everything, to look down at the sleek, marble table and see the faint reflection on it and realize that you are in fact, in the body of Ratio.you cleared your throat, tried to hold yourself back from feeling alarmed by your sudden change of voice, and look at him as stoic as you could. “I’m fine, no need to worry….” For a moment you pondered what on earth would Ratio call Screwlum by. Doctor?Professor?genius? mr?”….sir.” you are terrible at acting.
Screwlum merely nodded, his attention shifting elsewhere, giving you enough time to gather your thoughts and try to pinpoint what exactly this dream is about. As you look around, you realize you’re in the Herta space station, and interestingly of all, you’re in the room Madame Herta usually hosts all her meetings. You remember as a child you’ve never been permitted to enter such gatherings, since they were ‘genius only’, as Herta would put it with a smile. As a kid, you were pouty about this ban, but the more you grew up, the more you thanked the aeons you didn’t have to see more of Screwlum and Herta’s squabbles outside the regular amount you were forced to endure every day .
But why was Ratio’s dream to be in such meetings? As the question swirled in your mind, a feeling prickled your hair’s ends. The feeling of being watched. Being gazed upon by an aeon. A thrum of power, a whisper of their path, a surge of curiosity and hunger for knowledge, the will to sacrifice it all to reach a conclusion, you were being gazed upon by nous.
You were a genius.
Dr.Ratio’s biggest dream was to be a genius. To be gazed upon by Nous themself.
As you peered more into this strong feeling, to this thirst for knowledge and whispers of the untold questions piercing through your skull, the world around you blurred, your insides felt sick, and you felt heavy, like your heart was coming up to your throat, like the pit of your stomach wanted to gouge itself out of your systems entirely.’ aeons, is this what its like to be gazed by you?’ voices became a mumble, your chest tightened with coughs as you spit out fall leafs and blood onto the table. ‘Is this what it takes to be a genius?
the world staggers in glitches, the words of your fellow scholars turning into a sizzling blur as your vision falls short. Your mind felt heavy, burdened with knowledge, whispers of unknown bombarding your eardrums as you fail to make sense of the nonsense around you, and the power thrumming within you urging you to do so. Between all the harsh whispers, all the blurring lines, one voice, robotic, barely incomprehensible, takes your attention.
“speak with US, Wanderer.”
“Wanderer…! Wanderer! Get out of there!”
your body felt weightless, as if you were floating and defying the gravitational pulls around you, and as you’ve took a deep breath in, you felt yourself falling, quickly being catched by a strong pair of arms, one that had belonged to a concerned yet a tad conflicted Dr.Ratio. loud clutters could be heard alongside your fall, making your ears ring a bit.
You winced, feeling the heavy pangs of pain that throbbed in your skull now, trying your best to gather your thoughts and focus on the world around you. “….what happened ?” and most importantly, why does this keep happening? Holding the hand of Ratio was one thing, even if it was brief, but being cradled by him was another, and you almost lost your balance and fell had it not been for your swift and unconscious effort to hold onto his arms as support. His build frame felt like bricks under you, but strangely enough, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. His flesh made it so he felt more like a comfy cushion supporting your weight, rather than the pair of arms they actually were. Ratio himself seemed a bit bothered by the hold, and whether the furrowed brows were because he was uncomfortable with the contact or your weight, you’d rather not know the answer.
Ratio sighed, putting you down to the ground as he put a hand under his chin in thought. “ I believe the dream bubble has been cracked somehow,leading to some of its magic spilling out when used.. hence why you started floating, and then lighter weighted items have begun to take flight as well.” as he speaks, he types all of it down on the blue holographic screen, now completely ignoring the disheveled state you’re in. “ The energy fluctuation was reaching a dangerous height, therefore I woke you up before any unwanted accidents could happen.” He added nonchalantly, then he glanced back at you with sharp,inquisitive eyes. “What did you see in your dream?”
You wondered if you should tell him or just stay silent. After all, this dream must’ve been a personal one, something he might’ve not wanted anyone to know, especially a coworker. But lying has always given you a heavy pit in your stomach and a bile of guilt in your throat, and you have enough guilt chugged up in there to last a century. “I…saw your dream.”
Ratio stopped writing for a moment, his head turned back to you, his body as still as a sculpture. You feel nervous, yet for what, you’re unsure of. It’s not like you chose to see his dream, now did you? nonetheless, it didn’t make the situation any less awkward, and the silence was making you sweat.
A few beats went by in just an unbearable quiet, only the sounds of the holographic emulators buzzing around you.guild consumed you, haunting your veins and blood as you took a shuddering breath, not daring to look at him. “ I’m sorry- “
“Sorry for what , Wanderer?” his voice was sharp, cutting,yet there was no madness to it, no rage at you, rather, it seemed shaken. Uncomfortable, in a sense. He certainly and rightfully so feels uncomfortable with the fact that you saw his deepest desires, yet he wasn’t mad at you. something about that baffled you, made you let out a breath of disbelief as you finally dared to look at him.
“….I saw something I shouldn’t have.” You reasoned against yourself. Not doing anything to defend your position. And Ratio let out a frustrated grumble, clicking his tongue.
“it wasn’t in your control.” His eyes bore into yours, the gold in it almost blinding with his inquisitive glare and strong frown. “Was it?”
You clamored up, shaking your head frantically. “no, of course not-“
“Then don’t apologize.” He cut you again, this time much harsher than before. Had it not been for your guilt, you would’ve bitten back on such a behaviour. Instead, you merely bit your lip in frustration, stress buzzing in your blood as all you could retaliate with was a sigh. “…when you have no control, you’re not at fault.” Ratio scolded, even if he himself seemed deeply uncomfortable. He crossed his arms, as if trying to regain a semblance of control in this uncontrollable chaos the bubble creates. He takes a sharp breath, glancing back at the monitors, avoiding direct eye-contact with you . “Besides, this is what research is for. This was meant to happen at some point. Whether we liked it or not.”
Another silence takes over the room, one much more uncomfortable than the last, proving that Ratio-s back-handed reassurance was all for naught. He wouldn’t turn back to look at you even once, writing down equations that only looked like nonsense to the uneducated eye..your eyes, to be exact.
You only looked at the ground in shame, mind trying to grapple with all that you’ve seen and how much of it were you not allowed to.seeing your shaken state, he finally released a breath, his shoulders slouching slightly, his hands clenching for a moment before relaxing back. “..what was it about?” he asked critically, as if he was quizzing you rather than asking you a question. After all, he already knows his true dream, and now, you do too.
It takes you a moment to answer, eyes softening into a more somber than shaken look, your thoughts finally turning cohesive.“…the genius society isn’t as great as it seems.” You mumbled, looking away from his gaze,trapped in your own memories and interactions. “…they may be intelligent, but they’re…not the easiest pill to swallow. Especially when you want to work with them.” Especially when you live with them.
Ratio stays silent, his back still turned to you, and you see his head rise up a bit, as if he was looking through his reflection in the hologram. “….I didn’t want to work with them.” He was uncharacteristically soft in his tone, his voice seemed dazed, by his own dreams and wishes, by his hopes , goals. “ I wanted to be like them.”
You felt pity, an urge to comfort him came within you, yet you knew empty words have no effect on a man like Ratio, so your mind searched for some way to soothe the ache of imperfectionism a perfectionist like Ratio feels in his life. and then, it hits you, like a plug being instilled to the electrical socket, you rise up in surging determination and catch his attention. “let me make it up to you-“
Ratio’s once soft gaze turned back into the cold, scolding glare he’s keenly devoted to. “there is nothing to make ip for-“
“that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty!” you were the one who cut him off this time, powered by sheer audacity and determination. He looks at you befuddled for a brief moment, then shakes his head and scoffs. As soon as he opens his mouth to retort, you cut him off once again, like a cat waiting for its prey to just flinch for them to attack.
“ I want to make it up to you.” your voice left no room for argument, no space for snappy, scolding retorts. “You said you failed to become a genius, but…you never knew why, did you?” your question makes his eyes widened, further confirming your hypotheses. A grin is in your face, sheepish as it may be, it seemed excited with the new idea splurging your mind. Your hand reaches out to shake his, a glint of curiosity in your eye. “ Then how about we find out how?” Perhaps, reaching the answer would bring both comfort to the doctor's mind and a great topic for you to write about.
You’ve successfully killed two birds with one stone.