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The magician's tale

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Written by   266
2 months ago

[WP] Magicians are quite rare. They are not born; they're made. It is through unimaginable pain that their powers manifest. Their ability is linked to their own personal trauma. So tell me child, what can YOU do?

*****

"Multiple physical manifestations at once and the ability to process all their stimuli simultaneously"

The chair is... appropriately comfortable. It is easy to sit in, it is nice. But it is not so comfortable I just start to fall asleep or completely fully relax. It keeps my attention just enough to still warrant some mental acuity.

They are looking at me calmly, unjudgingly. As they are supposed to. Treat the patient with care and compassion, they are another human looking to grow and work past their challenges and difficulties. That should be applauded and encouraged. Do not belittle the patient or infantilize them. They are doing everything exactly as they are supposed to, I can relate to them but still feel like I do not have to worry about judgement.

I hate that, and they can tell.

"You told me you wanted to talk about it when you set up the appointment. I am glad you reached out to me."

Their gaze is calm and analytic. I can still see the sharpness there, they know exactly what it was like. If I lunged at them right now with a full intent to drive their skull through that window they wouldnt be caught off guard they would be able to take it in stride and probably kick my ass and without judgement. Why are they better than me.

"What is it you would like to talk about."

"What, you don't want to lead or start off with any more deep or probing questions? You do not want to ask why I finally reached out and why I reached out to you specifically?"

"My primary concern is you and your well being. Any other questions I might have are the farthest things from the forefront of my mind."

They are telling the truth. Damn.

"Well I reached out to you because you know. You were there. Not THERE THERE, but you were in war just as I was. You faced different challenges but it still happened to you. you know, those who havent been through it do not really know. The moment it first begins to happen, it isnt a boom it is a- a-"

I stumble upon my words for a brief moment unable to form my words adequately.

"It is a soft whisper. I recall. The moment I felt the shift I did not even recognize it"

"Exactly! You actually get it. The rest didnt. Even those that had gone through the change."

I stared at them too long, too much eye contact. I do not like that. But they were looking at me calmly and softly, non-threateningly. They sat in their chair upright and composed, a notepad infront of them. Their chair did not look as comfy as mine.

I flinch as I feel the impact comming, then the hurt comes, one of me, ladder slipped, 'I' fell, feels like a broken leg. They see me flinch and I can see concern in them as they lean forward looking at me.

"What happened? How are you feeling?"

"I am fine, one of me fell, broke their leg, feeling all their stimulai at once, means all the pain not just the good. But please. Continue. I have some questions."

I grit my teeth for a moment to clench the pain.

"can you tell me. What about you? What uh... do you have... I mean... did it to you... can you remind me..."

"No problem, I have resilience. I can take a lot of damage and still keep going, and by extension it allows the body to grow stronger. It happened when I was a POW."

"Yes of course, how could I forget..."

I look off to the side, it still feels uncomfortable to even think about let alone ask about.

"I have come to terms with it and we do not need to discuss it, but I would like to talk about you, and how you believe I can help. I want to help you."

When he leans forward I can see the muscle he has in his forearms even through the suit jacket, it isn't extreme and does not stand out, but there is an unfair and unquestionable sum of strength in his body.

"So where do I start?"

"If you feel comfortable about it, why dont we start with what caused you to feel the first, 'whisper' of it. Of your capacity."

"Uh..."

I take a deep breath, this is gonna hurt and this is REALLY going to suck. But I need to.

I exhale.

"I was in the military a low level commanding officer, but C&C went to shit because we were engage with a unit that had a pyrokinetic. She was born into an abusive household that got burned down, maybe by one of the parents, maybe she did it. But she could control flames now." She picked off a lot of our commanders, scorched their skulls. So I got an unwilling promotion to higher up but I had to keep communicating with all kinds of people at the same time. I had to be in 30 different places and once while I also was screaming at myself to be home. I did not want to die, not like this. But more than anything, I did not want my friends there to die. They were good people, and we needed communications to stay up and relay between positions while also commanding and leading and organizing groups. I had to be 100 places at once but I couldnt so my mind was RACING for all the things I needed to be. The pressures that got me into the military, the pressures in, the pressures out, the pulls in 30000 different ways. It was too much. Hiding in a trench so she couldnt see me I blacked out and then I saw myself blacked out. I thought I was dead. My ghost seeing my body and drifting away. But then I woke up. And I could see me. Looking at me. Telling me to get up. Then from behind me, I handed myself a new magazine to reload. Then I was 80 feet away telling people to prepare to fire at a wall while 2 miles away I was giving coordinates for an artillery bombardment. The pyro could scorch the rounds out of the sky but she could only focus on one place at a time. So we had to overwhelm her."

I began to get into the story. And for once in a VERY long time. I did not hate looking into my own eyes. As I sat there calmly all my muscle and strength and resilience. Looking at myself looking back at me with all the scars fears and worries, plain upon my face.

For once, in a very long time, I was not sick to look at me. I liked that. I... I actually smiled. It was nice.

*****

THE END.

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Written by   266
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