So Long After Later
A cave. A mine more accurately. It reminded Circe why she hated the whole mystical and mysterious aspects of her trade. Why couldn't they hide their relics in nice coffee shops or grassy parks?
Another drop of water fell on her head, running like a wayward spider down her scalp and she shivered. Urging the ambient light from her staff to brighten, she squinted through the oppressive darkness of the shaft. Some dwarves in Tacoma had exchanged information on the whereabouts of an incredibly powerful artifact in exchange for her helping them with poltergeists last month. After this, she was certain that if said information didn't pan out, she'd be going back for a refund.
Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, she set off. There was no sense in standing around when it would only prolong her experience in this damp hole.
Consulting the map she'd magically imprinted in her mind, Circe made a right at the next intersection. Her eyes informed her that the passage was collapsed, but she blinked and accessed a small quantum of magic from the charms on her numerous bracelets. Glamour dissolved away to reveal a hallway, much more elegantly hewn than the crude mine shafts. It was studded with crystals and glyphs from the dwarven language. She was getting closer.
A minute of walking later and her steps initiated a cascade of echoes as the hall widened into a chamber, easily the size of a gymnasium. Circe stamped her staff into the floor and the tip brightened to illuminate the vast space… and something else.
Or more accurately, someone else.
"Hey, my eyes were just starting to adjust."
It was a young man's easy-going voice. An even tenor. Slightly familiar.
By the light of her staff Circe saw a guy of average height, gangly limbs, and fluffy, brown hair. Dressed nondescriptly in raggedy jeans and a university hoodie, it was hard to believe that he could have found his way to the dwarven hideout. He was loaded down by heavy backpack, trucker's hat stuffed into one side-pocket and a water bottle in the other.
A second later, her memory clicked.
"Dipper?"
Squinting, he took a closer to look at his ocular offender. Circe knew she looked different: a conglomeration of punk and Suquamish tribal styles, weighed down by bracelets and necklaces, an intricate tattoo covering her left forearm, not a hint of makeup in sight. But her hair was still its gaudy dye-black and her piercings were still in place.
"Circe? Circe Vott?"
"Yeah." She answered, a hesitant smile accompanied by the tip of her head. The last time she had talked to this kid was June, six years ago. When she had finally arrived at her current mentor's abode, the old woman had looked at her once, up and down, before taking her bags, dropping them next to a small cot and saying:
There's some change on the table along with a phone number. You better call that Pines kid and tell him you made it. It'll be a load of his shoulders.
She didn't really know how to work a phone booth, but she had stopped paying for her cell phone months before in order to afford the trip to Seattle. Hesitantly, she slipped a few quarters in the slot and dialed the number on the worn keypad of a payphone she'd seen on her way down the street the first time.
It rang three times, a tin-like, old fashioned sound, before the call connected.
Hello? A girl's voice chirped over the line.
Circe winced. Um, is Dipper there? Can I speak with Dipper Pines?
Sure, I'll get him for you… BRO-BRO! Circe winced when it became obvious that the girl – she foggily recalled that Dipper had a twin sister – didn't cover the receiver. Your girlfriend is calling!
Mabel. Will you stop answering my cellphone! And you know I don't have a girlfriend. The boy's distinctive tones huffed. Gimme that. Hello?
Hey, Dipper. She jumped right in. This is Circe Vott. Ms. Sigo wanted me to call you…
Oh, thank goodness! He interrupted with relief.
What?
He chuckled good-naturedly. Sigo was probably getting sick of me bugging her every other day. I just wanted to make sure everything worked out. Mabel! Go away, I told you, she's not my girlfriend.
The sound of a small scuffled traveled over the line. Hello? He repeated a few seconds later.
Circe bit back a laugh, instead saying, I can take care of myself. What do you think I've been doing for the past five years?
That's true. Well, I have to go now, there's something I… No, Mabel! We are not planning a June wedding. Giggles and static intermingled in the background. Ugh, can you NOT! Say that one more time and I'm going to tell Jeff the gnome you'll say yes to his proposal.
A screech sounded before the persistent beeping of a disconnected call resounded in her ears. Circe shrugged and hung up the receiver, heading back to what would soon become her new home.
"Wow," Dipper was musing in the present, "It's been forever hasn't it!?"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing here?"
It was an innocent question, but Circe hadn't spent the last six year vigorously studying magic for nothing. Knowing that shape-shifter's had a propensity for inhabiting the underground, she ran a hand along her bracelets, pulling enough quantums to run a magical diagnostic.
Aided by the spell, she could see Dipper: human, with an indescribable hue in his aura that indicated an exceptionally powerful wizard. With the confirmation that it was truly him, she continued to scan as she spoke.
"I got some information that there's a…" her voice abruptly trailed off as her eyes focused on his head, a symbol resolving into startling clarity.
Caught off guard by her sudden silence, Dipper nervously queried, "Um, is something wrong?"
There. Hovering over the center of his forehead. The pulsing, strong, golden glow of an eye, wide and unblinking, stared straight into her soul. Terrifying and undeniable. A shiver ran down her spine, this time, in no way related to the temperature of the mine.
"Dipper." Circe whispered hoarsely, "You're marked by a demon!"
"What?" he asked quizzically before seeming to process it, "Oh, yeah." He finished lamely.
Circe lowered her staff in his direction, the light dropping to a minimum as it conserved energy for a spell, "Why?"
"Hey, hey! Hold up!" he held out his hands, placating, "It's something that happened a really long time ago!"
"Explain." She commanded. Her staff hadn't budged, and it wasn't going to. She was well aware of the havoc demons were capable of wreaking. It was why she was in this cave in the first place.
Dipper sighed and ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it so an odd birthmark was visible beneath the messy, brunette strands. Circe noticed that the otherworldly, golden symbol was in no way disturbed by the movement.
"It happened when I was twelve... and stupid, and sleep deprived. I hardly knew anything about magic beyond a journal and things I had witnessed in Gravity Falls. There was a demon – Bill Cipher – who took an interest in me and wouldn't leave me alone." Here he looked at the floor. Shame crept into his voice as he continued softly, "I'd say it was an accident, but it wasn't. I made a deal with him that involved an undefined length of time. Apparently, now Bill thinks the contract is active whenever it suits him."
"So you're like a walking time bomb." Circe summarized and Dipper shrugged.
"I have precautions." He shook his wrists, and in the gloom she was able to make out leather bands engraved with symbols. A simple, gold triangle sewn into each one affirmed the specificity of the spells for the infamous demon. Dipper continued his explanation in a blasé tone that sounded forced, "They work for the most part. He can't possess me. But he seems to have a fun time tormenting me with the occasional nightmare. I don't think my wards will ever be strong enough to prevent those, though. Dreams are his specialty after all."
Circe finally relented, returning her staff back to a neutral position while an echo of a conversation long passed flickered through her head:
I don't want people hyper-analyzing me.
Me either.
Besides your addiction to that book, I'd doubt they'd have much to analyze.
You'd be wrong.
She felt her stomach lurch with the realization: this is what he'd meant.
"I'm sorry." Circe mumbled, because there didn't seem to be anything better to say. "That sounds really shitty."
A hint of a sad smile graced his features, "It is what it is, but…" a sudden smirk and conniving glint in his eye made Circe remember how Sigo had said never to fully trust a Pines, "I'll let you make it up to me by helping me find this artifact."
"Ha! You think I came all this way just to let some dirty wizard get his hands on my artifact? No way in hell!"
"What makes you think it's yours?" he inquired, raising a single eyebrow.
"The fact that I'm going to find it first!" She challenged. She set off a smoke spell with a jangle of her jewelry, drawing quantums from the crystals that had come into contact with her skin.
"I think that's a challenge!" Dipper called after her, his voice in no way inhibited by the murk in the cavern. Damn, he must have used a barrier spell. He was quick on the uptake.
Forcing her feet to move faster as she sprinted down the appropriate tunnel, she almost missed the tickle at the base of her neck that meant her danger proximity spell had been tripped. Luminous pairs of yellow eyes blinked into view. A lot of them.
She ground to a stop and Dipper caught up to her only a few seconds later, "Stollenwurm." he observed as a monster slithered into view. A growing chorus of hisses filled the corridor, "Aaaaand, I hate nonnative, invasive species."
"What!?" Circe demanded sharply as the first one lunged at her, maw wide and fangs gleaming in the dim light. She narrowly dodged, launching a stunning spell with her staff, as Dipper continued in something akin to an excerpt from a bestiary.
"Stollenwurm, also known as a Tazelwurm. Originally from Europe, but some idiot researcher brought them to America for study in 1933 and didn't keep track of them. Cat, lizard, snake all rolled into one. Usually two to six feet long. Watch out for claws and venom. You probably won't violate any magical protection laws by annihilating them."
"Probably!?" Circe screeched, blasting one only for it to roll into another there were so many.
"Look, dude. I don't know. Those laws aren't fully established and I swear they change more often than I wash my clothes."
"That's disgusting."
Dipper stepped forward, hand held out. His palm glowed in tandem with his eyes. "I'm a busy guy."
Abandoning the inelegant, smash-and-bash method, Circe pulled a silver, harpoon tip from a pouch at her waist. Enveloping the weapon with a dominion spell, she sent it zooming about the cavern, drilling through the skulls of a few monsters with each pass.
"Veni, vidi, vici." Dipper muttered next to her. The Stollenwurm that had been about to pounce on him tilted its catlike face in an inquisitive fashion. Circe noticed its eyes glaze, white and blank, before it turned on its comrades and started to savagely rip through them.
"Brutal." She commented.
"It frees me up to cast other spells." He said distractedly, moving on to issue a barrier between the two magic users and the hoard of beasts. Spouts of venom splattered on the opaque boundary, glimmering for a second before dissipating while the shield grew brighter.
Circe whistled appreciatively, "Catabolic energy absorption." She glanced at Dipper who was still focused on the task of eliminating Stollenwurms, "You come up with that yourself? I'm pretty sure Latin doesn't have the vocabulary to cover complex chemical reactions."
"It's based on a folk harvest song I dug up in an obscure text."
"Clever."
"Are you going to help?"
"Quit your whining." The spell on her harpoon had been exhausted while she'd watched him work, so she switched to a new tactic. Slamming the butt of her staff into the stone floor, Circe uttered a threat in Lushootseed that snapped the necks of the monsters within a ten foot radius.
"Nice," Dipper shot her a grin, "but get a load of this one."
He whispered something so softly Circe couldn't hear it over the clamor of the Stollenwurms, not that she would understand it anyway. Pinching his thumb and forefinger together, Dipper brought his hand up to his mouth like he was wishing on a dandelion. When he blew, a breeze wafted through the corridor bearing faint traces of what appeared to be glitter, only, when it landed on the monsters, they shriveled up and turned to dust.
"Way cool. What was that?"
"Entry on a deadly fungi from an apothecary manual. Mabel wanted me to make something sparkly and dangerous that wasn't a fake vampire."
Circe rolled her eyes, "You and your books. Let me up the ante a bit."
The chant was long, but it was one she'd been practicing since day one of her training. It reminded her of sunny, summer days, sitting with Sigo on a pier over Puget Sound with the smell of shellfish heavy on the salty air. Her mentor's dark eyes set aglow by the rays of light reflecting off the water as she explained Suquamish culture and her hands deftly produced one masterpiece after another. Six years of living with the woman who was like a second mother to her.
Her voice was full and confident. In the corridor, ribbons of living stone forged themselves from the earth. They wound among the remaining Stollenwurms in a mesh that closed like a lethal vise. In less than a minute, the last of the monsters were dead. Her focus spent, she released the spell, allowing the bindings to crumble into pebbles that spilled across the snakelike bodies and stone floor. A glance at her staff revealed that the energy was heavily depleted, but the impressed look on Dipper's face was worth it.
"Dude, that was awesome!"
She smiled with pride, "It's a rhyme for teaching basket weaving to young Suquamish children. Of course, I had to learn it when I was eighteen, and all the little five year-olds were like, ten times better than me!"
Dipper laughed, "Story of my life!"
That made Circe pause.
"Hey, Dipper."
The young man in question had set out to delve farther into the mine, but shot a questioning look over his shoulder. "What?"
"How come you've never had a mentor? Sigo says that you're really talented. And don't let it go to your head, but what I just saw you do is far beyond the average wizard. So why do you avoid formal training?"
Another one of those small, sad smiles tugged at his lips, "C'mon." he chided, "Let's get out of here before it starts to stink. We can talk as we walk."
Circe nodded, caught up to his side, and continued down the passage. She noticed, now that she was standing beside him, that Dipper was taller by a few inches. The last time they'd met, he'd only been able to rival her because he was perched on a pile of crates. A lot had changed in six years. For both of them.
"It started with me just wanting to stay with Mabel." Dipper began, reminding Circe of the question she had posed. The crystals embedded in the walls had dwindled to nothing and the light from her staff was no longer enough. Dipper pulled a flashlight from his backpack and pressed on, "As you know, magic is traditionally passed down by apprenticeship. But it didn't feel right for me to move in with a stranger and leave her behind. That's why I started studying on my own.
"Later on, my Grunkle Stan got me connected with magic users that he and his brother used to know. My network widened, and I was able to get some advice from more experienced individuals. But when they met me," Circe caught him cringing at the memories, "well, let's just say, consorting with demons is more taboo than I had initially thought. Some avoided me altogether; some remained cordial; and some, like Sigo, accepted me. But in the end, no one wants a student that has been marked. Teaching magic to a time bomb, as you so aptly put it, doesn't appeal to anyone in the magical community."
When Circe didn't say anything, Dipper added a cheery disclaimer. "By that point I was so used to self-training that it wasn't a big deal."
"Still," Circe mumbled. She remember how it felt when she'd been ostracized in high school. How no one wanted to be seen with that gloomy, punk girl that smoked behind the building. Sure, she had self-esteem, but the constant scorn still wore at her, day after day after day.
Suddenly, her arm began to sting, pushing her less than stellar high school memories from the forefront of her thoughts. Glancing down, she noticed a shallow cut, presumably from when the first Stollenwurm had caught her by surprise. Dipper saw the graze an instant before she clapped a hand over it.
"Bless you." He said with a sneaky grin.
Circe shot him a nonplussed look, "I didn't sneeze."
"Spells are multifunctional."
"I know that."
Dipper rolled his eyes. "Check your arm."
Sure enough, the skin had healed over, leaving only a faint, red line.
"English, really?" She exclaimed in mock outrage.
He laughed, so easy-going that it made her forget the hardships he'd faced. Resilience. That was something they had in common. The world could send them to rock bottom, and they'd find their way back to the surface. They would take back light and life because after all that shit, they deserved it.
But they didn't have to do it alone. Dipper had his twin sister. Circe had her mentor. In her mind's eye, she could picture Sigo's strong cheek bones, sun kissed skin, dark hair. And her smile was proud. It must be the same for him.
"I think we're almost there." Dipper interrupted her musings.
His flashlight reflected off a smooth surface. Water, undisturbed by air and tides, was fascinatingly still. Circe stared, captivated, as Dipper sloughed off his backpack and began to rifle through it.
"I know it's in here somewhere," he grumbled. After a few seconds, he triumphantly pulled a textbook shaped box from the depths. He set it on the ground, uttered a short spell, and an inflatable raft sprung into shape. All of a sudden, an embarrassed flush raced across his cheeks as he belatedly realized, "I forgot the oars."
Circe sighed dramatically, "Making me do all the work."
She pressed her left hand to the dusty ground, gripping a necklace with her right. It took her a moment to recall the name of the element in Lushootseed, but she succeeded in rattling off the appropriate pronunciation with enough accuracy to initiate the spell. Energy crackled beneath her hand as the quantums from the pendant were spent.
Dipper hefted the finished product, "Transmutation. Aluminum alloy, to make it light. Very smart, dude."
Shrugging off his praise, Circe gestured to the raft.
"Ladies first." He responded with a smirk.
She glared, but climbed in all the same. He pushed the raft off the shore and hopped in behind her, navigating over the glassy surface of the underground lake. Coaxing her staff to glow brighter with its vestigial preserves of energy, she let her hand wander over the argent film of the water, transfixed. So beautiful, yet so dangerous. The mine's heavy metal content no doubt lead to a dangerously high pH.
Dipper's eyes flitted worriedly between her actions and the course. Eventually, he settled on distracting her with, "You're tattoo's pretty cool. How'd you imbue it with magic though?"
Circe narrowed her eyes at him, but he looked as innocent as ever, "That's supposed to be a secret. How did you detect it when I haven't drawn any magic from it?"
He shrugged, "Just a guess."
Tricky jerk. Sighing at her faux pas, she explained, "I ground a crystal and had a tattoo artist from the tribe mix it with the ink. A power source I physically can't be separated from. So if I happen to lose all my relics for some reason, I still have enough magic for a simple spell."
"Cool."
"Not that you would ever have need of something like that."
Dipper smiled, "Latent charms, yes. But storing quantums of magic for later use is not in my repertoire, as convenient as that would be." The raft bumped up against shore, "Land ho!" he announced with an edge of sarcasm.
The pair climbed out, followed the sandy beach, and filed through a narrow hall. Their destination proved to be almost disappointing in contrast to the journey: a tight, featureless room containing only a simple, nondescript chest. Circe knelt in front, wiping a heavy layer of dust from the lid.
"Well this arduous trip might prove to be anticlimactic." Circe said, "Cross your fingers."
He crossed his fingers on both hands and then crossed his arms over his chest for good measure. As she opened the lid, Dipper leaned in, brown eyes alight with anticipation. The hinges on the chest creaked, and Circe wondered if she would ever get through a day without satisfying one cliché or another.
Lying nondescript on the wooden floor of the chest rested a golden necklace adorned by a gaudy pendant: a gem of blended green and bronze. Droplets of emeralds dotted the circumference of the centerpiece and dangled from the chain. Lifting it gently by the glittering links, Circe held the artifact up to the flashlight.
Dipper squinted, appraising the piece, "A Cintamani Stone," surprise colored his voice, "How did dwarves come across one of these?"
"What is it?" she asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"The Oriental equivalent of a Philosopher's Stone."
"Are you making Harry Potter references again?"
He raised an eyebrow, "You get the point."
"Regardless of how they got it, it's mine now." Circe stated.
"Yep." Dipper pushed himself to his full height, pulling his cellphone out of his pocket. The blue backlight illuminated the stalactite studded ceiling as he checked the time. "Yikes! Wow, I need to get going. Pacifica said she'd kill me if I was late. Tutus iter agenti!"
He grabbed Circe by the wrist and her shout of surprise was swallowed as his hasty spell took effect. The world spun around her accompanied by the feeling of being squeezed and pulled apart at the same time. Darkness encroached on the edges of her vision before the brilliant sun assaulted her senses. Harsh rays burned her eyes, heat waves seared her skin, and a rushing sound filled her ears like a tidal wave.
"Ugh, summer." She groaned.
Dipper chuckled, sounding out of breath, but he was already on the move. Circe cracked an eye, wholly unimpressed with his steady coordination after the teleportation as he tossed his backpack into the passenger side of a parked car. But a trickle of sweat down his temple betrayed his composure. He was running on magical fumes. Fixing his pine tree hat over his hair, he discreetly wiped the perspiration away. "Well," Dipper faced her, toying with his keys and speaking with finality, "It was nice seeing you, Circe."
She blinked, "Weren't you challenging me for the Cintamani?"
"Huh? Oh, no. I was just kidding about that." He absently rubbed the back of his neck, leather bracelets sliding up his arm, "I was in the area and I heard you were going into the mines, so I just thought I'd be helpful and tag along. Not that you couldn't handle it!" he amended when she glared.
"Seriously!?"
"Seriously." He stepped into the car, starting it up but letting the engine idle. "Anyway, good luck with sealing Abaddon. I heard things are pretty bad up in Alberta. The Cintamani should make it easier. But you can never be too careful!"
"I know that!" she sputtered, "But how did you know what I was planning?"
A smile stretched across his features, "Oh, I know lots of things."
Circe froze, his words rubbing her the wrong way. But Dipper didn't seem to notice. He waved goodbye, pulled the driver's side door shut, and turned onto the main highway. She was left alone, surrounded by the oppressive summer humidity and the empty parking lot. She'd picked this afternoon because the mine was closed, but now, it was mightily inconvenient to be miles away from civilization without anyone passing by. She trudged to the roadside, ready to hitchhike back to town before she remembered the Cintamani.
The gem was brimming with energy after being left alone so long, gathering quantums upon quantums of magic from the earth. Whispering a Suquamish traveling song, Circe made up her own rendition of a teleportation spell. She'd never had a relic powerful enough to achieve such a feat. But this time, she was gone on a gust of wind.
Sigo didn't even have the decency to act surprised when she suddenly appeared in the house on the reservation, back a whole day early. The old woman simply gave her a long-suffering look as the magical vortex blew basket weaving materials into disarray about the room. After ordering her to help because these need to be done by the exposition tomorrow, Sigo listened as Circe told her everything about the trip. And when Circe asked about making dream catchers, Sigo smiled fondly.
It was time to start repaying a debt.
Continuation, yay… I think I swore to myself when I started writing fanfiction that I wouldn't write about an OC. Well, look where that went. I am happy that so many of you enjoyed Circe as much as I did, so here is some more of her ;)
People have been asking about Dipper's connection to Bill, and I hope this kinda explains what happens in my canon. After Dipper's deal with Bill in Sock Opera, infrequent bouts of possession caused Dipper some emotional unbalance and unconsciously adopt some questionable mannerisms. In addition to his natural curiosity about the supernatural, these issues were other motivating factors for Dipper to learn magic. Since developing his wards during the summer before freshman year of high school he hasn't had nearly as many issues with Bill, but some damage had already been done.
Another thing I wanted to clarify: in order for Dipper to master magic in a dead language, he has to do a lot of trial and error. Just like the way we can read ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, we have no way of knowing how the spoken language sounds. It's the same idea. When Dipper finds ancient texts, he spends days practicing sounds until he actually gets the spell 'right'. Eventually, he develops a better understanding of the language so that it takes less time. As a result, it grants him a better understanding of his craft than those who are trained (and steeped in generational traditions). Which terrifies the magical community, because not only does he not adhere typical craft but he could wreak major havoc with his skills if Bill ever manages to take control again. Lol! I'm starting to wonder if I should mark this story as an AU :D
Thanks for reading!