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“Greaser, can I ask you something?” Connor glances over at where the artificer was, welding something onto Julian’s bike. He shuffles the paperwork in front of him, trying to ignore the truly abysmal numbers Greaser’s business was doing.
The welding continues for about half a minute before Greaser flips his visor up, turning around. “What’s up?” He sets his tools aside, standing up and cracking his back.
“...ah, I don’t know.” Connor backtracks, chewing on his bottom lip. If he did what he was thinking of… that was him directly breaking a law. By choice. His choice. “I just was… considering asking you for help on something.”
“Well depending on what it is I could probably-”
“I want to learn magic!” Connor blurts, then covers his mouth, looking around the garage for any potential spies.
Greaser raises an eyebrow, pulling their welding mask off. “You want to learn magic, Connor? That’s like- the most illegal thing you could do. You know how serious it is, right?”
“I do!” He insists. “I do. I see how it affects you, and now Julian. But- I just feel like everyone in this city except me is doing magic.”
“That’s a terrible reason to want to do magic.”
Connor shoots him a glare. “Are you going to help me or ridicule me?”
Greaser sighs, rolling his shoulders and stretching some more. “Give me a few days- I can’t teach you my magic. It’s inherent. It’s something that just happened and then I honed in on it, and it’s something I learned outside of the city.”
Connor rests his chin on his hand, listening eagerly. Greaser got a faraway look in his eyes- the telltale sign he was about to go on a tangent.
“Magic here- it works differently. I feel like I would probably be a more powerful caster if I was casting elsewhere. I think it has something to do with the Weave-”
“The weave? Like a web?” Connor interrupts, confused.
“Ah. Yeah, The Weave. It’s the network of magic, kinda.” Greaser grabs a piece of paper and a pencil, beginning to draw lines across a page. He points to one in the middle. “This is the material plane, where we live. And above it, right there, is probably a magical plane. My mom- my biological one, not Dolly, studied magic and traveled all across the globe to learn more about it. She told me that there are places where the magic plane and the material plane have collided and exist in tandem in the same space-”
Connor blinks at him. “You’ve lost me.”
Greaser clears his throat, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “Got carried away, my bad. The Weave is magic. All magic outside of Areo City is pulled from The Weave. But here, within the city, that magical presence is kinda… different. Almost fully gone. It’s like walking into a dry room after roasting in the shower for a bit. You can feel the humidity in the air, and then BOOM, it’s gone.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Connor leans back in his chair, looking at the paper. “So how do I learn to cast magic if the magic isn’t here?”
“I think we just need to find a book on it- easier said than done, but I’m sure we can figure it out. You just have to give me a few days to find one, ok? I’ll head out and start asking around now.”
Connor nods. “Sure thing. I’ll… try to figure out how to make this business actually make money, I guess.”
“Good luck!” Greaser grins, grabbing his bag and heading out the door.
-
However many days or hours later, a mysterious patterned knock sounded on the shop door. Connor grumbles, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. Greaser just hops out of the truck, opening the door to find a carefully wrapped, squarish parcel sitting outside on the ground. They pick it up, bring it inside, and lock the door, pulling a towel down over the windows.
“What’s that?” Connor asks, wearily sliding out of the truck. He peers over Greaser’s shoulder as he tears off the wrapping, revealing a leather bound book inside. “Oh. That’s gotta be the thing, right?”
“An old wizard's spellbook.” Greaser carefully opens the book, curiously sniffing the pages within. “Oh yeah, that’s magic. Sweet, dusty, musty magic.” He leaves through it, scanning the runes and texts within. “This guy was a nerd- as most wizards are. I can recognize a few of my spells here though, so that’s good. We have a place to start from. Do you have your own book you can write in? Every caster has to have their own spellbook, probably.”
Connor opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out his notebook, pink and covered in flowers. “Would this work?”
Greaser just raises an eyebrow. “The closet was always made of glass, Connor. But yeah, that should do it. I used to write my spells on old napkins and staple them together, so I think anything will work. I’m going to teach you the spells I know first, and then we can work on spells you want to learn. I just can’t really use wizard magic- too potent for me. But there’s always some overlap.”
“If you aren’t a wizard, what are you? Are there words for everything?” Connor sits on the desk, crossing his legs.
“I am an artificer. It’s exactly as you would imagine. I build things and infuse them with magic.” He shrugs, pulling a small notepad from his bag with a bunch of runes scribbled across it. “If I know what I’m talking about, Julian would be a ‘monk’ of some sort. It makes sense with how fast he can fucking hit things, gods. My mother was a sorcerer first, but delved more into wizardry as she got older.”
“What’s the difference between a sorcerer and a wizard?”
“Wizards have to learn magic- like you. You don’t have magic in your blood, you have to read a book to use it. Sorcerers can kinda just. Do it.” Greaser shrugs. “I’m technically a fourth Air Genasi- kinda like a living elemental.”
“Is that why your eyes are freakishly blue?” Connor blurts, then clears his throat. “Sorry.”
Greaser snorts. “Yeah, probably. But anyways- let’s start you out small. Here- probably the easiest spell out there. ‘Dancing Lights.’” He flips through the book, finding the page. “Here. So you need a verbal component, which can really be anything, and a somatic component, which is a movement.” Greaser waves a hand and says “Light.” in a clear voice, and four tiny balls of light appear around them.
Connor watches him, eyes wide. “Wow. Just like that?” He glances at the book, then steels himself, waving a hand. “Light.” He says, but nothing happens. “It didn’t work.”
Greaser purses his lips. “Hm. Did you just say the word, or did you try to… pull from some place?”
“I just said the word. That’s all you did.”
“Yeah, well, I still have to pull from somewhere. If anyone could just wave a hand and cast a spell, everyone would.” They roll their eyes, taking Connor’s hand in theirs. “Focus on this feeling. Try to memorize it-” Greaser utters another incantation, and Connor feels the familiar comfort of his ‘Guidance’ spell.
“Okay. I think I understand now.” Connor mumbles, closing his eyes and focusing on Greaser’s magic in him. The way it felt, its smell He waves his hand, utters the phrase, and opens his eyes again. But still no magic. “Fuck!”
Greaser furrows his brows. “Hm. Alright. Put on some clothes, we’re going out.” He grabs his boots from beside the truck, throwing them on and haphazardly lacing them up.
“Where are we going?” Connor asks, throwing his coat and shoes on. He watches as Greaser scoops up the book and his bag, following as they exit the garage and head out into the city.
The two walk for a while, heading lower and lower until they both have to put on their respirators from the sheer amount of pollution emitting from vents in the buildings. But Greaser keeps trucking on, leading him through a small hole in a fence down to the shore.
“Isn’t the lake like- super polluted? And full of the tendrils?”
“Yes, but it also is on the edge of the magical dead zone. You might have a better time with the weave here.” Greaser checks the area around them, then pulls the book back out. “Alright. Try again.”
Connor sighs, staring out over the lake and to the land beyond. Greaser was right, at least. This close to the edge of the city he could feel less electricity and a nice breeze.
Greaser must have seen the anxiety eating away at him- the fear of failure, the fear of ridicule- as they move to stand behind Connor, gently guiding Connor’s wrists to trace out the somatic component of the spell.
“Say the incantation.” They whisper, resting his chin on Connor’s shoulder.
Connor takes a deep breath and speaks the words, some sparks shooting from his fingertips. Greaser gives him a light squeeze, and he continues to repeat it, over and over again with Greaser as his guide. After the fifth attempt, he feels magic course through him, having caught on something. Four tiny glowing orbs dance around the pair, shining a light pink. Connor reaches out with one hand, prodding the little light he made.
“Congratulations, Connor. You cast your first spell.” Greaser grins, wrapping his arms around Connor’s waist. The baby mage spins around, picking Greaser up and spinning around. Greaser squeaks, laughing as Connor loses his balance and falls over into the sand.
The two share a moment together, lying next to the lake. Water gently laps at the shore, the breeze ruffles their hair, and for once it doesn’t smell too much like smog. Greaser stares into Connor’s eyes, waiting for the other to initiate the kiss. When he does- because of course he does- Greaser gently runs their hands through Connor’s hair while Connor’s hands squeeze at his waist.
There are no magic users in Areo City- that’s what they tell you, anyways. But on that beach, there was magic in the air. And no one could take that from them. At least, not now.