Disclaimer:
I do not own Voltron: Legendary Denfenderes or
any branding or commercialized products that may be mentioned below.
Warnings: Violence and Bullying
"Lance! Your bus is here!"
"Yeah, I'm coming!" I called, pulling on an over sized blue sweater that was two sizes too large.
Scanning the cluttered floors of my room in a rushed haze, the piling mess of clothes weren't doing me any favors, in an attempt to find my bag. I really needed to clean up this place eventually, though I'm surprised Abuela hadn't murdered, much less said anything, over this yet either.
"Squeak!" I looked down and grinned.
A small rat, white fur and pink skin, was sniffing around a pile of clothes, a cluster consisting of underwear and pants, with an unnatural lumps protruding out. Quickly, with a flick of the wrist and small curl of thin fingers, my backpack hovered out from beneath the pile in a translucent blue ball of light. As it floated towards me, I grabbed hold and threaded my arm through a single strap.
"Thanks Jerome," I said, squatting down to lift the rodent into the palm of my hand, "Let's go, bud."
"Lance!"
"Right, right!" Lifting up the floor hatch in my flooring, I carefully descended down the rickety wooden steps that led to the attic and to the ground floor.
Feeling the small tampering of Jerome's small toed feet clamoring my arm and over my shoulder. Hiding his small white body into the depths of my jansport bag, my feet hit the hardwood tiles of the connecting hallway with an apologetic smile. The kitchen was busied with floating silverware being washed in the sink and a broom pushing dust over the floor into a neat little pile. Waiting at the door was my grandmother, the scowl on her face held strong.
"Hurry up, I'm only giving you ten seconds." She warned, crinkled eyes looking at me with amusement despite the frown on her aging features.
"Well, that's generous." I commented, taking an apple from the counter.
"Do you want half?"
"No, ma'am-"
"-Then get your butt in gear! And stop taking your rat with you!" And I was off.
Once she opened the door, I ran. The world outside was bright, thank summer for that, but I was not on this world. Sounds was muffled and transformed into extended vowels and consonants, movements slowed as if held back by strings. Time was slowed down, but I wasn't. I knew that the world didn't stop spinning or slow down entirely, no, that was a whole different league. Just a different, mirrored, plane where I was faster and they were slower. Just outside. I could touch it if I wanted. This plane was suspended in the units of ticks, vargas and doboshes.
Putting my legs into gear, I jogged down the cemented sidewalk towards the bus stop a block away. Jerome made his protests clear as he was jostled up and down, side to side, as my bag bounced to the rhythm of shoe soles slapping the ground.
Skidding to a slow as I neared the long yellow metal rectangle on wheels, red stop sign extended out to the side and lights glowing red that told cars to slow. I could feel time beginning to catch up to me, the plane resisting my existence and push me through the glass, so I picked up my pace. Now in the home stretch, foot slapping the pavement once more, before sounds and movements were restored all at once. Hand pressed against the side of the bus, I walked up the narrow staircase and face the rows of two person seats.
The students in the back row snickered, those up front avoided me with their eyes. Taking a seat at the very front, I scooted closer to the wall and brought my bag up to my chest. Flicking my eyes left and right before unzipping my bag. Jerome was in there, obviously unhappy with being shaken up with the rest of my notebooks and loose pens. I gave an apologetic smile to my familiar before closing my bag back up.
Leaning back in my seat, I ran a hair through tangled brown and sighed, fiddling with the small feathered earring on my left lobe. Just another normal day of a teenage Brujo* in training. Wizardry had always run in my bloodline, the abilities were carried down through the generations, only the capabilities of strength differed in between. Regardless of this amazing fact that made me special, that didn't save me from what people thought.
"Hey Keith! Saved you a spot!"
"Thanks,"
My heartbeat picked up, quickly turning my head to the front where Keith stepped onto the bus. Having traveled up a few blocked to pick up the next bunch of kids, this was the last stop before heading straight to the front of the school. I let my eyes drink in his early morning state; hair grown out into that adorable mullet, eyes shining that peculiar yet beautiful color of violet and gray, flawless dotted with those cute little moles, his rebellious yet modest dress style, his fit outlook from taking weight training at school and strong legs from cross country meetings. I gripped my bag as my chest clenched.
Keith Kogane was beautiful in every sense of the word.
"Morning Lance."
"'Morning!" I croaked.
Keith chuckled and I was embarrassed.
Keith, the boy who've I've gone to school with since the fifth grade, said "good morning" and "Hi" to me in the hallways of high school without fail. He treated me like a normal person, fancied acquaintances at best; It never failed to make my heart flutter and my stomach do flips.
"Why do you always talk to that guy?"
"He's so weird.."
"Isn't he part of a cult?" They were whispering, poorly, again.
"Screw off man, he's still human."
It made me happy every time he made the effort to defend me, on top of interacting with me, but sometimes I wished for more. Keith was like a unicorn. Yes, a Unicorn. Majestic and beautiful but completely out of reach.
He was rather popular at school, his cool atmosphere attracted girls and he got along with most guys at school. He was strong. Keith established that very clearly when a Junior tried to pick a fight with him during freshmen year. The example of a freshmen beating a kid two years older than him spoke volumes, though they both got suspended. The junior for starting the fight and Keith because he broke the kid's nose. I didn't care which way, Keith was handsome in a fight.
"'sup Mrs. A!" I greeted.
"Lance, it's good to see you this lunch block."
"Formality over an eating period? You sure grew up with a green thumb, why teach a low paying job like this?"
"Wealth has nothing to do with my choice of occupation."
Allura Alderman, my sophomore biology teacher, had the biggest heart with looks to match her dignified atmosphere. She is objectively the best teacher on campus and it sucks that I don't have her class anymore.
"Well, I'm just saying, you could be working a better job. Less obnoxious teens and better pay. Teaching is stressful, you know?"
"On the contrary, if I didn't teach, I wouldn't have had the chance to meet such a kind boy who cares about my occupation of choice." I smiled at that.
Setting my bag down on one of the empty desks, I opened up the pouch that held Jerome. The rat was rather happy to be let out of the sack, sniffling around to smell the familiar room before venturing out towards the science teacher in search of the guaranteed food he would be given. Oddly, she never minded the fact I carried around a rodent in my backpack, in fact, she loved the little guy. I blamed it on the small, domestic, tricks he was able to do.
"So, any tidbits floating around in the hallways?" She asked, pulling out a small ziplock bag of Ritz crackers from her lunch bag.
Her face devious and intrigued to hear the floating gossip around campus. For an adult, her love of meddling in others business was funny to me rather that inappropriate.
"Hmm.. that's depends, what's the scoop on your end?" I asked smugly, crossing my arms with the cock of my hip.
She didn't miss a beat, "Well, I got some dirt from A-wing and a few more unbelievable stories."
"... I'm listening."
We retold some hilarity and Jerome got to nibbling on cracker crumbs. My lunch periods were always spent in this classroom, a privilege only I got to have. This room was closed to everyone else. Just me, Jerome and Mrs. A. I really did love her as a teacher.
"So, how's your fancy?" Allura questioned, hands folded over each other as she rested her head above the ebony skin, ring finger glistening with a gold band.
"My.. fancy?"
"Mmhmm.. how is Mr. Kogane as of late?"
"Uh, he's doing okay, I think. Wouldn't know."
"Really?"
"Really."
...
I groaned, slouching in the standard plastic chair of one of the desks and brought my hands up to cover my face. I heard a snicker of amusement to my embarrassment, face warm from mention of my not so secret crush. Most people knew, possibly the whole school if I was being honest, I wasn't too good at hiding things.
"Oh, I remember the days when you were both in my class,"
"Don't!" I warned.
"You would smile every time he would walk past your desk, ah, young love!" She was teasing me, but it was still embarrassing to hear the truth aloud.
"Allura, please!" I whined, dragging out the last syllable of her name for an extended amount of time.
I refuse to acknowledge that my old science teacher and familiar were laughing at me.
The hallways were crowded as per usual, the accumulated noise of passing conversation echoing off the walls, having to maneuver between groups of migrating bodies and avoiding classroom doors as they opened and closed periodically. Careful not to trip up my step, I moved in an strategic serpentine pattern. Pushing through a group of teens who were taking up about half of the hallway to stop and talk, I reached my desired destination of my locker. Spinning the numbered dial left and right to unlock the metal door.
"Hey Lance!" called a, somewhat, familiar voice.
Suddenly there was a harsh force pushing me against my locker. My bag was pressed up between my backside and whoever was pushing up on me. Jerome would not be happy about this when it was over.
"How ya' doin', pal?" The voice was close to my ear now, restrained venom in their tone.
Turning my head to the side, I wanted to roll my eyes. There were two kids who I knew only by face and last name thanks to roll call. Kipling, the one pinning me to my locker, and Godwin, the tag along who hung by. They talked around with Keith during fifth block since they were in the same class; we were all in the same class. Just another pair who thought they were tough and disliked me, more than likely.
"Uncomfortable and wishing for some personal space." I ground out.
"Oh, sarcastic are we?" commented Godwin.
Shoving the first one away, I separated myself from the tight space and no longer had to feel a gross breathe on my decorated ear. "What do you want?" I asked, more annoyed than threatened, "I gotta' bus to catch."
"Well, take a rain check. Word is, you've got some weird magic shit. Show us." Kipling jabbed a finger into my arm. I refused to wince.
"Show you?" I raised an eyebrow, "Are you stupid, magic isn't real."
The hallway was still rampant with teens that were grabbing things from their lockers or leaving class to head home. To commit a weak form of peer pressure, that was actually well thought out. I would give them credit on that.
Kipling grinned, lips curling into a fowl expression. "Oh yeah, well the rat in your bag is." he reached for the dark fabric of my pack, taking the top half and tugging it away from me.
I quickly responded, holding tight and pulling back to keep my bag to myself. The more aggressive action caught onlookers, people pausing at their lockers to look over or walking slower in hopes to seem like they weren't that interested.
"Hey, knock it off, let go!" I protested, tucking my bag to my chest and backing my person away. "There's nothing in here." That was my first mistake.
"Awe, what? You scared?" Godwin taunted.
"If there's nothing in there, let us see."
They were backing me into a corner that I walked into myself. Flickering my eyes left and right, people were flocking around us. Circling like vultures. Some had their phones out to take video or texting about what was happening. High schoolers who couldn't mind their own business following the drama about to break out. Rumors forming a mile a minute knowing this school, knowing the psychology of these kids.
Go away!
"What, no! Mind your own business, will you." I tried, attempting to simply walk away.
"What, come on, we're all friends here." Sneered Kipling, grabbing my arm and shoving my back into my locker. The hard combination lock digging into my spine uncomfortably.
"Rat pack."
"Rat pack!"
"Rat pack!"
Who spoke the name first, I didn't catch. The name started out small, growing in volume as students caught on. It became a chant. In my state, a light skinned hand took hold of my bag and ripped it out of my hands. A weak noise of protest escaped my lips as they unzipped the pouch and dumped out my belongings and with it Jerome fell out. The poor rodent looks around hopelessly before running over to me.
The familiar climbed up the leg of my black skinny jeans and I quickly grabbed him, holding the small creature protectively to my chest. Sometimes I wished my familiar could have taken a different physical form, but most times I was proud it was the rat. My growing, developing, spirit taking the meaningful form of the rat; my guide to becoming my full potential. However, right now, I wished it wasn't the rat.
Someone screamed, they another. They were disgusted, some took video or picture of the sight of my small familiar, but most were grossed out and thus began to yell.
"Cult freak!"
"Oh my god, that's disgusting!"
"Someone kill it!"
"Leave me alone!" I yelled.
"Break it up! Detention for all of you!"
The crowd quickly broke away, fearful of being reprimanded for egging on the torment. Iverson, a feared school security guard, grabbed the back of Godwin's and Kipling's neck and forcefully had them follow him off to the office. The two boys were forced into compliance from the "One-eyed Beast" and walked up with little resistance.
"Lance!" Allura came out from behind Iverson with a worried expression. The look of concern didn't fit her pretty features, it made me feel guilty for having to cause her trouble. "Are you okay? Come on, grab your things." she instructed kindly.
I nodded numbly, gathering my pens and notebooks back into my bag. The crowd had all but dispersed, heading off to finally mind their own business and get back to doing what they were supposed to do.
Un-tucking Jerome from the close cradle of my hands, I looked down at the small creature with a guilty frown. "You okay, buddy?" I asked softly. The rat refused to look at me and simply jumped back into my pack.
Wordlessly, yet disappointed with myself, I zipped up my pack and followed Mrs. A off to the office after Iverson to give my victim's statement. I had rejected my familiar in that small moment, verbally or not, and Jerome was giving me the cold shoulder for it. I felt sick.
Once I explained what happened to my guidance counselor with the utmost honesty, being a decent human being and not stretching the truth; Leaving out a few tidbits here and there about magic of course. After their phone call home to talk with my grandmother, they dismissed me to go home. I managed to get out of taking a suspension for bringing an animal onto school grounds; I may have lied a bit, saying I didn't know my pet had made its way into my pack and promising to never do it again.
My grandmother didn't have a registered license to drive and pick me up to take me home, so, as I stepped into the back of a stationed police car, I scooted myself towards the window to have something to watch and occupy myself. The school security had increased as of late since last year because someone vandalized the school with spray painted penises and I may have laughed at the culprit's ingenious mind.
Driven down the streets of familiar neighborhood and passing of recognizable houses, there was a rustling in the depths of my bag. Something stirred in my gut. Resting my head against the glass of the window, I let my eyes slip close with a notable frown.
The ride was silent, something I was thankful for, the officer was in no interest to talk to me and I used these moments to reflect on today and myself. Things just didn't seem to go my way sometimes.
Opening the backseat door of the vehicle, I was immediately greeted with my grandmother stepping out of the house. Her wrinkling features that distracted her otherwise flawless tanned skin and dotting freckles. Her disapproving stare did nothing to hide the shadowing concern and seemed to add something in showing her old age. Her graying hair tied back in a tight bun with the stranded strands of remaining brown fluttering behind her as she approached my hunched over posture.
Nodding her head towards the officer who was remaining by my side, he was dismissed and returned to the driver's seat. As he drove away, I was following Abuela up the small pathway to the front door.
"Go upstairs and clean yourself up." She instructed.
I simply nodded my head, wordlessly trailing the hardwood hallways to the poorly nailed staircase to my room. Gripping both sides of the stairs, I climbed up, opened the hatch that led to the attic and crawled up through the square shaped hole and was met with a freshly cleaned bedroom.
The air smelled faintly of lemon and detergent. My once thrown clothes pile was washed and folded into neat piles left on my bed to put away. Scattered books and inked papers were put on the writing desk tucked away in a corner of my room and bookshelves. The bed was made and covered tucked in neatly, the window seat by the dual panel window no longer had food crumbs and any dishes that were stuck up here were gone.
My lips quivered as I shut the hatch to my room and unzipped my bag, letting my reluctant familiar free to retire for the day. Jerome paid me no mind as he crawled away to sniff around the newly cleaned room and climb into his, metal cage; a purchase I made out of pure irony but Jerome took a liking to the sawdust flooring and hamster wheel. The door that came with the cage was removed entirely.
A whimper, a hiccup and then followed by a quiet sob, I lifted my arm up to wipe my eyes. The feeling of my arm rubbing up against my eye stung, irritating the now sensitive area.
Rumors were being spread, everyone saw Jerome, who would keep quiet about a kid who carried around a rodent? People wouldn't let him live this down for a long time, come morning he would be known for more than his strange dress attire. The feathered earring, laced crosses, black nail polish that hid my nail biting habit and now the knowledge of my "pet", I would be crucified. They'd tell everyone, they'd tell Keith.
Keith.
Oh god.
What would he think? He wouldn't ever say good morning to me, again, he'd stray away from me and my disgusting diseases. My eyes drifted over to the bottom shelf of my bookcase. The lining of thick, thread bound books lay there. The pages weren't crisp and clean like the ones resting on the higher shelves. Water stained and crumpled with age, dark magic. Tabooed spells and witchcraft know how that I was told, specifically, not to attempt.
Abuela gave them to me when I turned sixteen, it was now my responsibility to protect them. Like an heirloom, it was passed down to me to look after and give to my offspring when they came of age.
I read them when I dared, I knew there were spells that could fix my problems. Alter someone's memories, end one's life, cast a potent love spell that did more than the "legal" ones, or falter time to my complete and total will.
"Love spell.." I whispered, moving closer to the shelf in my distraught trance.
Keith wouldn't despise me if he loved me.
I looked at the bound books laying haphazardly on the bottom shelf. There were three in total, different colored covers that told them apart. A dark navy blue, a weird shade of barf green and a deep shade of plum.
I reached for the book with a purple cover. Pulling the thick book towards me, the bulk of pages adding up into a considerable five pounds maybe, and flipping the pages open. Lifting a hand up to point my index finger up, a small ball of blue light forming at the tip of my hand. Swirling my finger in a clockwise and counterclockwise motion, I began skimming over the inked pages and scribbled lines of a lost language, one that i've been studying since grade school, melded together as I turned pages back and forth with a set goal.
"Squeak!" Jerome made his protest clear when I found it.
"Infatuation Binding,
Tieing the red string to a held catalyst of choice, creating a growing romantic based infatuation with the spell caster. The inflicted will show signs of romantic interest to the caster that will steadily grow stronger each passing day. Heed that th-," It read.
The passage extended further but the words were too advanced for me to catch the rest of it or had faded away beyond comprehension form the age. I didn't pay it anymore though, staring at the pages longer, I felt a strange pull to it. The twisting guilt in my gut lessened and curled, a taunt clutch over my chest. Pulling and drawing me in and I just couldn't look away.
A pinch-like pain in my leg hit me, snapping me out of focus to the scribbled spell. Tilting my head towards the source, the small rodent of a familiar had its fur standing on end and a warning hiss that was so faint I almost didn't hear it.
Shooing the creature away, I took the book into my hands and carried it with me to my writing desk. Opening the drawer, I pulled out a sheet of parchment paper.
"A blood drawn binding circle of the adjacent star sign."
I placed the parchment on the floor, preparing the rest of what I would need. The ingredients and steps I needed to complete were written down for me to follow. The more I read and did as instructed, the easier the words came to me. They resonated in my head, almost like I was becoming fluent in the complex language the further I went.
"ㄧchopped burdock root, crushed echinacea, a single bunch of cumin, pinch of fennel, three drops caster's blood, familiar's blessing."
I had to pause at the final listed item, looking over at Jerome with narrowed eyes. The white fur being looked back with protest and unwilling cooperation. He knew what was to come, having the foresight I would soon adopt as I continued my growth.
"Jerome," I said, voice stern and authoritative to the small creature. "I am your master, do not disobey my too few wishes."
The book didn't say anything about a willing blessing.
A moment later he walked over towards the small bowl placed in the center of a blood drawn circle of intersecting symbols and triangles, the parchment wreaking of my essence, with several ingredients stewing in the pot, magic provided heat binding the parts together thanks to my own ability. Jerome neared the pot, standing on his hind legs, and released a faint yellow glow that connected with the stone bowl.
I knew his strength only vaguely as Quintessence, a strange ethical life force that bound a familiar to their master's strength and spirit.
My strength was his.
I unwrapped the thin blood stained bandage tied around my thumb, hovering the self inflicted cut above the bubbling pot. Wincing at the pressuring pain of squeezing out drops of my blood so it could fall into the stewing ingredients.
"One, two, three." I counted aloud softly, removing my hand quickly so that no extra be added.
Retying the bandage around my finger, I took a deep breath and pulled the purple covered book into my hands. Reading the instructions with newfound fluid ease, I nodded my head to assure myself.
"This is okay. This is fine." I justified determinedly.
The wafting smell of rice and chicken with roasting vegetables floated up into my room from the kitchen below me, a faint reminder of my wrong doings being committed just under my Abuela's nose. The tight stirring in my chest came back, my conscious pulling me towards the hatch that led downstairs, that would lead me to the safe arms of my grandmother and the comfort only she could ever hope to give me. Mi abuela..
"He'll leave you if you stop."
The thought echoed in the back of my mind, reminding me of the current position I was held in. Shaking my head, I ignored the smell of the delicious home cooked meal that was awaiting me and the disapproving stare of my familiar.
I pulled the book up to read the flowing language aloud quietly, focusing my energy into completing the task at hand.
Slowly, a gathering of cotton stuffing and loose fabric scraps began to hover in an eerie blue light. A needle and thread followed suit. Stitch after stitch, fold and crease, sew in between the corners and tie off the thread. Eventually an eyeless small patchwork doll in the image of Keith was finished, dipping the thread in with the now bubbling pot and up. The thread, once white, came back up black.
My eyebrows knitted together in lasting perseverance, feeling a bit tired from having to focus so much while simultaneously chanting the same verse of hex repeatedly.
Threading in two buttons, the color a strange fuse of black and purple, into the patchwork doll. Once the last stitch was made, the bubbling pot immediately cooled to a standstill mixture, the color cooling into a sickly green color. The doll dropped down to the floor with a soundless flop. Jerome taking a small interest and neared the finished product, sniffing the plush curiously.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I reached out and took the small doll that was the size of my palm, holding up with a relieved smile. The unsettling feeling over me washed away, a swelling pride in completing such a complex spell on my own with little complication.
"Chiquito, baja y come ahora!"*
"Si, estoy viniendo!"* I called back.
Stuffing the patch work doll in the drawer of my writing desk I quickly cleaned up the evidence. Reopening the hatch in floor, I followed the staircase down to the hallway away and followed it into the kitchen; Jerome following after me on his own feet.
I greeted the aging beauty of my grandmother with a kiss on the cheek and tired smile. I sat across the dinner table with my plate of food. On the far end of the table was a dish plate that had a couple cubes of cheddar, nuts and seeds that Jerome was all for enjoying. She was spoiling him again.
"Meow!"
"Good morning, Azule. What decided to wake you up?" chirped my grandmother.
She left her chair to grab something for the cat to eat, other than my familiar obviously, and set it out in front of her. Azule had a well groomed coat of fur that was dyed like a midnight sky, the black fur silky to the eye as she trailed forward to the given meal. Azule was Abuela's familiar but all it did was sleep and eat.
The rest of the meal followed as it always had; I told stories about me day, ranting about the kids and school, retelling the cool things about Keith and my grandmother would nod and encourage me further with no bias. It improved my mood considerably after everything that happened today.
Azule's startling blue eyes did not leave me once during dinner and the unsettling feeling was back in my stomach.
Notes: Thank you for reading and be sure to check out the inspiration for this fanfiction here at .com under the tag "Witch Lance" (Linking it really hard to do on this website... ._.
I will update this in due time, i'm see two more chapters before I close it. The idea for this mostly came from the art they made and watching the speed art for it, but after talking with one of my friends, I really wanted to make it an actual fic. Also, huge shout out to my buddy over facebook who beta-read this whole thing for me, it was a huge help tbh
See you all soon and have a wonderful day!
...
Translations: (I took these off Google translate and some extra searching so if these are used incorrectly, let me know so I can make corrections.)
Brujo*: literally "Male Witch"
baja y come ahora*: Come down and eat now
Si, estoy viniendo!": Yes, I'm coming!
Update: I've come about half way finishing the next chapter about a week ago but can't find myself wanting to finish it so it'll be collecting dust from here on. Take this chapter as a one shot. I didin't this deserves its own "Chapter Update" since it seemed like a dick move after a month but yeah
I WILL BE WRITING NEW STUFF FOR KLANCE THOUGH so theres that.
Have a wonderful day~! :)