Course and Flow
Emma blinks once, the sudden question having startled her out of a novella induced reverie, and she sets the slim paperback down onto the grass, considering the words carefully.
"What does it feel like when I use my powers…?" she repeats with a slight tilt of her head, hoping he'll take the unspoken hint and elaborate a little bit. Beside her, Machias groans and drops his head, looking for all the world like he's trying not to bury his face in his palm.
"In retrospect, I probably could have worked up to that."
"Hehe. It's all right," she says with a warm smile, studying his sharp features with a practiced eye as inquisitiveness gradually begins to wash away the embarrassment.
A shame, she notes. He's cute when he's flustered.
"Call it an exercise in curiosity more than anything else," Machias begins, carefully placing his own book back in his satchel. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but from what I've observed from a combat viewpoint the effects of Hexen spellcraft aren't all that different from orbal arts."
"You're not," Emma tells him with a nod. "For instance, my Aster Flare technique and say, a Fire Bolt art ultimately accomplish the same end objective in that they both use directed ignition to burn a target. The real difference, then, comes in how that ignition is generated. Whereas Fire Bolt uses the latent elemental energy found within a fire quartz, Aster Flare works off the same principles that power all Hexen spells."
She's starting to speak faster now, partially because she knows all this like the back of her hand and partially because she still hasn't quite gotten used to the freedom of being able to share it unrestrainedly, even now; liberation is one of those things that takes adjusting to, you see.
"Principles?" Machias repeats to indicate that he's following along, and if she had a spell to see into his head she wouldn't have been surprised to see gears spinning furiously. He loves learning just as much as she does, after all.
"That's right. No matter the spell, Hexen magic as a whole relies on utilizing the caster's inner mana to influence the properties of the surrounding world and its inhabitants. The possibilities are endless given enough mana and the willpower to shape it, though in terms of everyday practical usage it's mainly used for the same ends as orbal arts. Healing, harming – "
"Hypnotizing."
"And hypnotizing," she agrees with a laugh, her cheeks turning pink as she remembered Machias trying and failing to hide his surprise when that particular ability came into play for the first time. "Though in all fairness, we try to keep that to a minimum whenever possible."
"Hmm. I suppose that's sort of a relief. No need for me to worry, then?" Machias teases in a way he never would have dreamed of once upon a time.
Emma's blush darkens but her gaze holds firm, and she's thankful that Celine's taken the opportunity to wander the campus. "Oh, I don't know. In your case… I might be tempted."
In the day's fading light she can see Machias swallow hard, and the darkening of his already shadowed eyes sends a thrill running through her; a reminder of what had recently changed between them, of the electricity that raced up and down her fingertips whenever they touched warm skin.
"… I don't think I'd complain," he says at last, the timbre of his voice as low as she's ever heard it.
"I-I'll bear that in mind," Emma replies shakily, trying with all her might to keep from staring at the contours of his mouth. "Did I manage to answer your question, or…?"
"Sort of," and she focuses intently on him now, her natural academic once again coming to the fore as he adjusts his collar in a way that tells her he's regrouping and collecting himself. "What I really wanted to know was if there was any noticeable difference in… sensation, I suppose? I mean, anyone that's used an orbment would know what drawing energy from a quartz is like, but having that sort of thing be part of you means there's probably not a lot of room for comparison for that part of the process."
"… Ah."
Emma goes still when he clarifies, and it sinks in moments later that for all of her knowledge and experience she has no idea how to answer Machias. How could she, when magic had gone hand in hand with life itself ever since she had learned how to harness it all those years ago?
In the back of her mind, she vaguely remembers a much younger version of herself ambling up to a napping Celine and innocently asking how she managed to stay perfectly balanced all the time with her tail waving madly everywhere; the feline's response had been to blearily crack one golden eye open and fire back with "You're one to talk. Why humans decided to march around everywhere with two legs and no tail is beyond me."
Though she can't pinpoint exactly how the entire affair had ended - probably with a pout before Celine gave in and started playing with her, such was how these matters usually resolved themselves - she can certainly recall the childish indignance that had welled up when the familiar had shamelessly dodged the question. Why couldn't she have simply answered like she normally did?
Because Celine hadn't known how to, she realizes now. For her, a tail was simply another part of her body, an extra limb she hardly spared a thought for unless Emma was carefully tying a ribbon to it. It was a piece of the whole, just like Emma's magic was, and those sort of things defied explanation simply because they weren't needed – she might as well have been asked what it was like to breathe or blink.
But…
"Give me your hands, please," Emma requests, as calm as ever, and though Machias looks a little confused he complies without hesitation, gingerly threading his fingers through hers (and yes, there's that spark again).
He's saying something, but falls silent when he sees her eyes close.
A moment later, she takes a breath, focuses her will, and calls.
There's no incantation this time, no glowing sigils or bursts of brilliance as there might normally be; instead, she keeps her mind's eye solely focused on the swirling blaze that burns within in her soul, beseeching only the barest essence to come forth.
It does. As always, it does.
"There," she breathes, and Emma honestly doesn't know if he can feel this, feel the mana coursing and flowing like a river through her entire being and into her palms.
Rean might have been able to, given the nature of his own sleeping powers. Laura might have been able to, thanks to her close proximity to the eldritch Lohengrin. Gaius might have been able to, owing to the winds of Nord that blow through his veins. But Machias… that could be a different story altogether.
No, she doesn't know, which makes her fierce joy when she opens her eyes and sees him staring at their joined hands with a look of genuine awe all the more palpable.
"That. What you feel now… that's what it feels like."
He nods once, slowly, the faint light reflecting off his glasses. "This… this warmth is…"
She expects to hear 'pleasant' or 'nice' or something along those lines, and she stiffens when he instead draws her hand upward and reverently brushes his lips across her knuckles.
"You. This warmth is you, isn't it?" he asks her, realizing.
Goddess above, how she loves this boy.
"It is. It's me, Machias," Emma says, a quiver in her throat as she tugs him toward her until one hand is resting on her chest, dangerously close to striking a primal nerve.
They've slowly been getting used to touching like this. It's exciting and scary all at the same time, but more than anything else it's just different.
But then again, so are they.
"Emma – "
"Shh. Can you feel that?"
He goes silent for a moment, probably trying to detect if anything's changed in her pulsing mana, and she knows he understands when his eyes widen and the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a smile.
"You see? That's me too," she whispers with a smile of her own, his palm filled with the rapid beating of her full, happy heart, and he looks like he wants to say something but just can't find the right words.
She giggles and closes her eyes when he kisses her instead, and when the earth comes out from under them and reduces the world to a boy and girl embracing near an old schoolhouse... it's magic all on its own.
(Emma's heart keeps pounding. She's not sure if she ever wants it to stop).