[Anthony] Progress
My convalescence is long, though probably not as long as it feels, each day when I do not sleep it away, seemingly longer and more interminable than the last. My flesh and bones heal, bruises fade. Anthony teaches me how to stretch and move like he does, and I see echoes of his deadly practice in it, slow though it is. Under his tutelage, I grow stronger, more flexible by the day. He puts his hands to my arms and back, guiding my movements, and stops before I can truly tire, which, despite my healing, still happens all too quickly.
Less than a week before Christmas, Anthony sits on the floor performing a series of stretching exercises while I work on cajoling my mind to wrap itself around mechanical theory and then magical theory. As much as it feels like my body has atrophied, my mind seems to have followed suit and it distresses me more than the scar across my chest. Unfortunately, I find myself doodling more than studying, and, finally, I start thinking about Christmas, which has crept up without my realizing it. I think about how I would make Christmas dinner for two, what I would need, and before I know it, I'm making a list underneath a doodle of a carburetor, noting where I would find some of the more obscure candied fruits for Christmas pudding, and what magic I would have to wreak to get the consistency right on such short notice.
I am putting the final touches on the list when it occurs to me that despite my progress, actually leaving the house to go shopping is an impossibility. More, I don't even know if Anthony celebrates. Only one way to know.
"Do you celebrate Christmas?" I ask while debating whether I should try to make this an entirely vegetarian meal, or add some fish.
He looks up from the floor, utterly calm. "I wasn't always Buddhist. I was raised more or less everyday west-coast American. I think Christmas is a little silly sometimes, but yes, I do, when I have a reason."
Fuck it. Fish. Definitely fish. I write down the last line item and study Anthony. He wears a tanktop that shows the lines of his scars, old and new, the place where metal meets flesh. At some point, it stopped being an oddity, and simply became Anthony. "I can't think of two people who could stand to celebrate friendship and giving more than us right now."
He smiles a familiar, crooked smile that I recall from our first meeting when he started charming me. "Yeah... that's certainly true. You want I should go cut down a little pine tree?"
I frown; there's no place to put it. "No. But I have a list of other errands, if you'd be willing to run them."
He looks around the loft pointedly and grins. "Maybe just the top bit of a pine tree. I'm at your disposal. What would you like me to do?"
Joking. He's joking. I tear off the top sheet of the graphing pad and hand it to him, pleased that I can reach by stretching. "Groceries, mostly, although some of them will be a little hard to find. I've made notes as to where your best options are."
He smiles, accepts the list with an economical gesture, and looks it over, while I tell him where to find the petty cash in the office and we discuss some of the items, where to find them, and how to get there. When he leaves, I'm already tired, but there's something that I have to do before I can rest.
I'd decided on a gift for Anthony since before we made our trek into the snow. Had we been more successful or less injured, I'd have made it already and he likely would have returned to the Arrow by now. As it is, I will make it a Christmas gift, a shield of Matter.
Enchanting an item is not difficult, merely time consuming and tiring. Making that enchantment permanent requires something permanent of its maker - a piece of oneself. I set to work, shaping a piece of copper and forming it with my hands. I etch the runes for protection and Matter with a fingernail, and solidify and harden the metal again with a word. It is a long process, and I am afraid that Anthony will come back before I am done, but my list is long and difficult.
By the time I have made the final enchantment, given it a piece of my will, it is all I can do to lever myself up from the worktable and hide the tiny shield in an envelope behind the romance novels. I crawl into bed without taking my robe off just as I hear the bells on the office door jingle.
Anthony comes up the stairs with a clatter, laden with bags and glowing from the cold and exercise. He drops them when he sees me, but smiles and comes to the bed, sitting beside me, and putting a hand to my forehead. "You've been exerting yourself, little livewire." He peers around suspiciously.
I smile, partly from the nickname, partly from pleasure that I have done something profoundly good. "For a good cause," I tell him. And then, I can't keep my eyes open any longer, and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Less than a week before Christmas, Anthony sits on the floor performing a series of stretching exercises while I work on cajoling my mind to wrap itself around mechanical theory and then magical theory. As much as it feels like my body has atrophied, my mind seems to have followed suit and it distresses me more than the scar across my chest. Unfortunately, I find myself doodling more than studying, and, finally, I start thinking about Christmas, which has crept up without my realizing it. I think about how I would make Christmas dinner for two, what I would need, and before I know it, I'm making a list underneath a doodle of a carburetor, noting where I would find some of the more obscure candied fruits for Christmas pudding, and what magic I would have to wreak to get the consistency right on such short notice.
I am putting the final touches on the list when it occurs to me that despite my progress, actually leaving the house to go shopping is an impossibility. More, I don't even know if Anthony celebrates. Only one way to know.
"Do you celebrate Christmas?" I ask while debating whether I should try to make this an entirely vegetarian meal, or add some fish.
He looks up from the floor, utterly calm. "I wasn't always Buddhist. I was raised more or less everyday west-coast American. I think Christmas is a little silly sometimes, but yes, I do, when I have a reason."
Fuck it. Fish. Definitely fish. I write down the last line item and study Anthony. He wears a tanktop that shows the lines of his scars, old and new, the place where metal meets flesh. At some point, it stopped being an oddity, and simply became Anthony. "I can't think of two people who could stand to celebrate friendship and giving more than us right now."
He smiles a familiar, crooked smile that I recall from our first meeting when he started charming me. "Yeah... that's certainly true. You want I should go cut down a little pine tree?"
I frown; there's no place to put it. "No. But I have a list of other errands, if you'd be willing to run them."
He looks around the loft pointedly and grins. "Maybe just the top bit of a pine tree. I'm at your disposal. What would you like me to do?"
Joking. He's joking. I tear off the top sheet of the graphing pad and hand it to him, pleased that I can reach by stretching. "Groceries, mostly, although some of them will be a little hard to find. I've made notes as to where your best options are."
He smiles, accepts the list with an economical gesture, and looks it over, while I tell him where to find the petty cash in the office and we discuss some of the items, where to find them, and how to get there. When he leaves, I'm already tired, but there's something that I have to do before I can rest.
I'd decided on a gift for Anthony since before we made our trek into the snow. Had we been more successful or less injured, I'd have made it already and he likely would have returned to the Arrow by now. As it is, I will make it a Christmas gift, a shield of Matter.
Enchanting an item is not difficult, merely time consuming and tiring. Making that enchantment permanent requires something permanent of its maker - a piece of oneself. I set to work, shaping a piece of copper and forming it with my hands. I etch the runes for protection and Matter with a fingernail, and solidify and harden the metal again with a word. It is a long process, and I am afraid that Anthony will come back before I am done, but my list is long and difficult.
By the time I have made the final enchantment, given it a piece of my will, it is all I can do to lever myself up from the worktable and hide the tiny shield in an envelope behind the romance novels. I crawl into bed without taking my robe off just as I hear the bells on the office door jingle.
Anthony comes up the stairs with a clatter, laden with bags and glowing from the cold and exercise. He drops them when he sees me, but smiles and comes to the bed, sitting beside me, and putting a hand to my forehead. "You've been exerting yourself, little livewire." He peers around suspiciously.
I smile, partly from the nickname, partly from pleasure that I have done something profoundly good. "For a good cause," I tell him. And then, I can't keep my eyes open any longer, and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.