Of Magic and Will
"... something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Out of smoke and bone."
-Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke and Bone
It was a dim room, the lights from the distressed vanity flickering out into the darkness weakly in an attempt to light the room. A single figure sat in the room, absent-mindedly flipping through the pages of a book with the wave of her hand. The room reeked of hairspray, lavender, and something burning; the air heavy and difficult to breathe.
The girl was pretty, but her soft features were ruined by the sharp glare in her eyes and the twisted grin she always wore. Standing up, she walked over to a beaten wardrobe, opening the double doors to a single outfit hanging within the pine. Her costume.
Quickly disrobing, the young woman slipped in the tights with a practiced grace. Pulling the leotard up with one hand, Mabel flicked her fingers into the air– a small beep alerting her that the curling iron had been heated prematurely. Smiling, she slipped into her shirt and shut the doors.
Abandoning her shoes, the brunette walked over to her vanity, watching as the sequin adorning her costume shimmered in the dim lighting. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the headband lying amongst the disregarded jewelry and cherished bottled letters abandoned on the dresser, tiny sparks shooting into the air at every tender touch.
"Let the show begin,"
With a skilled hand, Mabel began to dust herself with fair powder. Her face instantly becoming smooth and flawless, and with another swipe her high cheekbones were highlighted with a subtle rose. She allowed her naturally wavy hair to tumble down her back—released from the strict ponytail. Sighing happily, Mabel ran her fingers through the deteriorated curls, with each touch her hair becoming shinier and glossier.
Even in her simple pleasure, it hurt; she realized. Every breath she took felt labored; every swipe of her hand was weighed down exponentially, every flicker of the lights painful to her eyes. She needed the amulet.
Carefully, Mabel slipped the headband on, relishing the instant relief that coursed through her body. Her limbs became lighter, her mind clearer, and her movements sharper.
It was night and day; every aspect of her body and soul thrived under the haze of the green amulet; and as the days went on, Mabel found herself addicted to the clarity. She loved the way it made her feel; invincible, impossible, indestructible. The way the power coursed through her body– unstoppable, powerful. It radiated from the tops of her head to the very tips of her toes, her body addicted to the tingles and sparks, the endless energy and all-knowing; the high that kept her going. And Mabel Gleeful knew that no drug on earth could make her feel as good as magic.
There, she'd said it; magic. The forbidden m-word that her twin refused to utter, even under the most convincing of circumstances.
"This," he'd say, gesturing to the most recent trick they'd preformed, "Is anything but magic."
She didn't quite know what he was afraid of– she had known from the moment she'd strapped the amulet onto her headband that it wasn't natural, and she knew that her twin felt the exact same way. The abilities they'd adopted and the powers it had given them had to be the product of something otherworldly.
Magic.
It only scared her a little, playing with the unknown.
"Mabel, we're on in fifteen minutes. Don't be late."
The brunette rolled her eyes, curling another lock of hair to perfection. "Okay, Dipper. Do you still want me to do your hair?"
"Nah," Dipper smiled, closing the door to her dressing room, "Bill did it for me today." And then, like a part of their show, he disappeared.
Carefully, Mabel unfurled her hair, another flawless curl bouncing into place. Adjusting her headband, Mabel blinked at her reflection in the mirror.
She didn't quite know when things for so out of hand– initially, Mabel argued that the power shouldn't be made public, but rather be kept secret. She had once feared the greed of others, of the jealousy that would follow herself and twin. But that was no longer a concern; a simple spell and the victims were no longer concerned with their petty obsession with the Telepathy Twins.
She kept a blind eye to what her brother had become.
Looking back, perhaps it was when she met Pacifica that her mind changed; something about that blonde made her blood boil. Oh, Mabel had tried to be polite when they had first met; maybe she had even seen the two as possible friends. But after the first night, it had become quite clear Pacifica wanted nothing to do with her.
And that was the first time Mabel agreed with her brother on what the amulets should be used for.
The alarming thing was that it had become easier and easier each time, part if her worried that things were getting a bit it of control... but that part was beginning to become quieter and quieter.
Carefully she outlined her brown eyes with a thin line of black kohl, lengthening her lashes so they framed her eyes. Playfully, Mabel pouted in the mirror, her eyes flashing with unseen power and potential behind the skillfully constructed smile.
Perhaps that's what fooled people. Mabel had managed to maintain her innocent eyes, with the flutter of her eyelashes or the bat of an eye she could charm their victims up into the stage without a second glance. She was the siren of the show, luring the innocent men and women onto the stage where they were forever changed.
Gently, she swiped the blood-red lipstick onto her plump lips, popping them together with a sadistic grin. "Welcome," she rehearsed bitterly, "To the beginning of your demise."
Twirling the chair to the side, the girl slipped on her sleek high-heels, buttoning the rest of her shirt as she stood. With a beckoning finger, a silk ribbon rose from her wardrobe and tied itself- leaving Mabel with a complicated bow that rested gracefully on her blouse. Kneeling down to the small bed beside her vanity, Mabel's face broke out into a rare, sincere smile. "Who's a good boy," she cooed, "Hmmm, who's a good boy, Waddles?"
The pig snorted, furrowing its snout into her legs happily. Mabel giggled softly, "Yes, that's right, you're a good boy."
"Mabel! You're on in five,'
The girl groaned, "Fine, Grunkle Stan! Just give me a minute!"
The old man snapped something sassy back, his comeback muffled by the sharp sound of a slamming door. Mabel just rolled her eyes and continued to cuddle her beloved pig.
With one final pet, Mabel stood back up– cursing under her breath when she spotted a tear in her tights; glancing back at the closed door, the threads began to reconnect on Mabel's thigh, tickling the sensitive skin. Grinning at the handy work, Mabel walked out the door and down the hall– her hair bouncing with each step and her emerald amulet shining in the flickering lamp light.
"It's a full house... Again." Her brother's smooth voice whispered in her ear. The two quickly fell into a familiar sync, their single steps eerily echoing down the hall as they moved towards the stage.
"Did you expect anything less?"
Dipper smiled, his white teeth shining in the dim light like a beacon in the night. "Of course not, Mabel dear, of course not."
He was different now. It wasn't just the fact he now slicked back his hair to showcase his birthmark, or that he shamelessly flirted with the shy ticket girl– Wendy something. It wasn't even the fact that he was now obsessed over every aspect of his mysterious Book.
No, Dipper now waked as if he owned the world. Each step exuded power and superiority. One look at the brunet and you knew he could make you beg for the mercy of death.
That was the curse of the magic. It had stolen Mabel's innocence and Dipper's boyish naïveté. Like a poison, the power ebbed away at the twin's very souls until there was nothing more than an empty shell of what they used to be. They were nothing more than puppets to an unseen master, trapped within a gilded cage.
Was it so horrible that they didn't mind?
Mabel could hear the hesitant murmur of the audiences, the familiar chords of the piano, and the tiny tingles beginning to electrocute her body. A small shiver traveled up her spine as Dipper took her hand into his; squeezing it gently in a rare moment of brotherly affection.
But the moment, like all the others, was soon over.
The two walked out simultaneously, the crowd falling silent in their intimidating wake. Each step agonizingly amplified in the tent, the sharp sounds puncturing the silence like a knife.
"Welcome," Mabel grinned, looking out into the sea of faceless bodies– their features lost in the harsh lights above. It was just another crowd, another night, another story. "To the beginning of today's end."
A/N: So.. Hello there, and welcome to Out of Magic and Will, my first GF fic!
Anyway, this is a Reverse Pines... in case the creepiness didn't tip you off first. This story is out of my usual genre, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. Now, because this is and AU story, there are some little tid-bits that might not align with everybody's idea of what Rev!Pines might be; and I'm truly sorry if you're not pleased with the decisions I made, but this is how I picture the twins to act- a bit creepy, psychotic, and a little insane. It's the opposite of their cannon selves, right?
The lovely image I used as the cover image does not belong to me. If you wish, you can find the artist at their tumblr: .com
Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed the story!
Reviews are always appreciated
~Ella