Chapter Text
Magic isn’t real. Going along with that line of reasoning, I guess you weren’t either.
Well, that isn’t exactly an accurate way to necessarily put that. Nonetheless, to say your condition or ‘ability’ was magic wouldn’t be out of the question; it wasn’t normal in any way. Supernatural might be a better way to word it. It wasn’t a gift to any degree, despite a brief onlooker’s thoughts. Lord knows you would help it if you could. It hindered so much in your life, down to the very essence of just even being able to live it.
Just three weeks after you were born, you appeared missing one morning. After a hectic panic that your parents went into for 24 hours, you had been returned where they had last left you. The authorities merely dismissed the case as to the fault of negligible parenting, ignoring your parents panicked and fretful insisting that something was wrong. The health professionals thought your parents were just as crazy. After hearing the same response wherever they went, they turned to the other insane people like them. Sorcerers, witches, fortune-tellers. A few “fakes”, as Rowan called them, found the story even crazier than their own mumbo-jumbo. It wasn’t until your parents found a real sorcerer that offered them an explanation. The “Santa Claus Condition” is what he referred to it as. A few people in the world were affected by it.
He explained that it entailed at random intervals of time, you would transport to different places in the world during the deepest point of your sleep cycle. How often this happened varied from person to person. For some, it could have been every two years, while for others it could be every other day. As time passed, you all figured out it happened about every two to three weeks for you. It was a gamble every time it happened if you would end up somewhere safe. One time at the age of two, you came home with a scar on the back of your right shoulder with no explanation.
Rowan was the sorcerer you saw regularly to see how you were handling your condition. He was a 50-year-old man, with a goatee and a little hat he wore. He claimed it was professional wear for his occupation. He was a chill guy, he kept you up to date with possible treatments that may have arisen, though you both came to see how many have come and gone, being seemed as ineffective. Your relationship was more for you to have someone to vent to, as you couldn’t exactly talk to a lot of people about it.
If there was anything good to have come out of this complication in your life, it had to be how tough it made you. Your “power” didn’t keep you out of war zones, extreme climates, or dangerous terrain. You’ve seen your share of fucked up. Sometimes you got nice destinations, like a cruise ship or broadway. But even those didn’t really make up for the harsher experiences you faced in your life.
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One day, while at work, Rowan called you in for something “substantial” regarding the you-know-what. Excusing yourself a little early, you made your way to his tent in the slums of your city. His greeting was instant.
“Good evening, (y/n).”
“Hello, Rowan,” you said groggily. He noticed your tired voice and gained a modest amount of concern.
“What is it, have you made an unexpected trip to Brazil recently?” You chuckled and steadily shook your head.
“No, it’s just work,” you took a second to rub your eye carefully. “I’m due for a visit this week.”
“Interesting you say that,” he motioned for you to sit. You complied, leading him to transition to what he had called you there for in the first place. “Would you like some tea?” You politely shook your head to decline. He scooted his chair in securely before crossing his arms across the table as he began.
“A new study.” He remained serious. “It looks promising this time around.” He put out his palm. You looked at it, seeing a red string. “Tie it around your finger.” You pulled it from his palm in compliance, used to these “bizarre” requests.
“Do you know what the red string of fate is?”
“Uh, I know what it means in movies: it’s a string that connects two lovers by fate.”
“Somewhat,” he sighed out, taking a sip of his tea. “It is often romanticized as such, but the reality of it is that it is at its basic form a string tying people together by fate. We all have it. But they’re typically too weak to really bring people together, what with our world being so big. This specific string,” he gestured with his head towards the string he handed you. “Has a charm. It’s meant to strengthen the natural string so that it pulls you and other people tied to the natural string together.”
You were having a bit of trouble putting it on when Rowan paused to tell you to put it on your ring finger. While you kept struggling with it, Rowan sipped on his tea. You knew him long enough to know when you glanced at his face, he was in a balance of frustration and amusement at your inability to tie the string. He continued once he set his cup down.
“According to this study,” he seriously leaned in, elbows still supporting him on the table. “Your power can help you actually meet the people you are tied to by fate.”
You looked up at him suddenly, never hearing him sound so convinced by one of his proposals. The both of you had always carried a certain amount of cynicalness when it came to methods of getting rid of your bother. This aura he gave off of the genuine belief that this might work sent chills into you. A glimmer of hope maybe. But just a glimmer.
“How is meeting the people I am connected to supposed to stop me from transporting all over the place?” you looked back down at your work. Damn, tying thin ass string is hard.
“Details are few, but this is the way that the first person cured of your ability did it,” he sipped his tea again. This allowed for the moment it took for you to fully process his words. Your head snapped back up, nearly scaring the sorcerer half to death.
“It’s been cured?!” You exclaimed a little too loudly.
“Yes,” he reached up to massage his left ear slightly, ears likely ringing from your outburst. “I can’t guarantee this will work, as it has only been done once. But none of that we’ve tried so far has been a guarantee now, was it?”
“Of course not,” you smiled shyly, a little embarrassed by your excitement. You looked down at your successfully tied string, “So how is this supposed to happen?”
“Its a process,” he began. “You go into a state of constant transportation, meeting one person a day that you are tied to after another until you have sealed both ends of the string together. That's the trick,” he sighed. “It's not very certain on how you can satisfy the draw of the red string.”
“I don’t even know what that means, Row.”
“It means what I said. The string will always continue to pull you to the people you are tied to unless you can fulfill the purpose that you have with the other individual. You need to find out why you are connected and how you can satisfy that connection.”
“That still doesn’t tell me much,” you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.
“It doesn’t get much better than that,” he sighs, frowning slightly. Though you couldn’t tell if it was about your situation or the fact that he drank all his tea. “The subject in the study had to either encourage another person, to helping to teach a child to read. I would suppose you have to investigate what you need to do.”
“Difficult,” you yawned. “When should we start?”
“Because that string is on, securely I hope, tomorrow.” Oh damn, okay. “It should last up until you’ve met all the people you are tied with.”
“Like… all at once?”
“Yes, it should last an average for maybe six days or less. It depends on how many people you are tied to.”
“I hope its only one,” you admitted, mind wandering back to your many unfinished responsibilities at work.
“Oh,” his tone became playful. Something that didn’t happen often. But when it did, it put you on edge. “By the way, your soulmate is definitely one of them.” You choked on your spit and began coughing.
When you recovered you only managed one word, “...what?”
“The man, or woman, you were meant to be with is connected to you by the red string of fate. You will definitely meet them, and possibly need to headstart a relationship in order to fulfill the string’s need.”
“Oh, god,” you felt stressed, taking your head in your palm. Excited, but a little stressed. Were you supposed to meet your soulmate this week? Soulmates actually existed?
“Here’s a new sim,” he slid a case across the table, which you clumsily caught. “More data and minutes for practically anywhere, since this time is gonna be awhile.” You glanced at it, uninterestingly, before putting it away in your bag. You got up from your seat, adjusting your bag to hang by your waist. Your actions were noticeably more urgent than normal, your adrenaline getting the best of you.
“Well, I… I should go. I have a lot of excuses to make this time around for my disappearance. If that's all, I’ll be going.”
“Don’t forget your credit cards,” he reminded you. Transporting random places typically meant changing currencies constantly. Thank god for ATMs.
“Thank you,” you chuckled slightly, almost choking on the incense in the tent. Damn, he used a lot today. As you left, he yelled out at you encouragingly.
“Don’t forget to send postcards!” You cracked a grin, a more authentic one of your laughs escaping your lips.
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Getting ready for bed that night made you more anxious than normal. You never transported many places all at once before. You at least hoped the people you were tied to live in safe places. How many people were you tied to anyway? Did that mean they were also tied to each other? What was this going to even be like?
You fell back on your bed after what seemed like the fifteenth call made that evening. This time was to let your parents know about the situation so they could keep a straight story if work or someone else asked where you were. Making an alibi for what you were doing was always a trainwreck. This time would probably be even worse. But hey, hopefully, it would be your last trainwreck. You would not make a great serial killer, despite your experience. In making fake alibis, not actually killing people. No, you don’t kill people. No.
Your phone buzzed again, but you ignored it, hoping it was just some confirmation email from your landlord regarding paying your bills early. Instead, you breathed in and out slowly, careful as to not fall asleep yet. While it took a cycle or two for you to transport, the three hours of sleep you had last night were encouraging you to take some well-deserved rest. Leaning your head to the right, you saw the picture you placed of you and your parents in front of the Eiffel Tower. You rarely traveled voluntarily because of your condition, so that trip was the only time you went as a family on summer vacation. You didn’t change much from what you could tell, maybe your undereyes were brighter back then. It was probably your favorite picture.
Hey, maybe one of your soul bros (the nickname you gave to those the string tied you with) lived in Paris? Maybe your soulmate lived in Paris? A short flash of heat hit your face and your chest gave a stutter just thinking about meeting your soulmate. How would you know who among them was it? So many questions you were dying to know the answer to circled in your head. Most importantly, the excitement of getting rid of your weird curse made you smile in anticipation.
Looking at the time, you saw it was 10:30. While you could typically stay up past midnight, you thought the earlier you got to sleep, the more rested you would be. Changing into your go-to transporting clothes, you lay on the top of your bed; shoes and backpack on. It looked odd, but you would rather wake up like this wherever you went versus in pajamas.
You fell asleep quickly, despite the momentary restlessness you felt as you turned off the lights. It was just a matter of time before you would meet the first person you were supposedly tied to by fate for some odd reason, which you would need to find out.