I put a spell on you-

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Who: Zevran Arainai, Jack Holden, Eugene Woods, Max Woodville, Sabriel
What: A misguided good deed
When: May 26th
Where: House 51
Summary: Max goes on high alert and attempts to protect his housemates. It does not end well.
Rating: PG-13 at worst


Something was different. Down to the least magically-inclined of the denizens of the house, that much was obvious. At first, it might have been easy to chalk it up, the altered energy at play between and around them, to newfound pairs of enormous and differently-coloured wings.

Then, after about fifteen minutes awake, Eugene set a kettle to boiling in perhaps thirty seconds. Jack, trying to tend an associated steam-induced burn (which may have had something to do with Zevran entering the kitchen even more silently than normal), found that he was unable to summon even the most basic sort of healing. And Max . . . ? Well, Max didn't do anything explicity strange at all.

Which, in retrospect, should have been the first warning.

Comments

Pre-lockup

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[z_jay]

Skulking was going to be outlawed in the household, he knew it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt (though he never expected himself, to say the least). That thought, in addition to being distracted by the tender throb of his burn distracted him from the lack of magic being worked on said injury. And he was fairly certain Zevran wasn't intending to be so stealthy, so an effort was made to keep this under wraps.

That is until time had passed by and Jack was still looking consternated. Maybe trying too hard? Or something else--

"Jack, c'mon, this actually hurts," he grumped softly, setting the kettle safely away from being knocked over as well. Best to avoid further injury if possible.

[antivanleather]

"Let me see, Moca." Zev murmured, trying to make his steps audible this time as he walks to Eugene's side. The magics of this world were not something he practiced, but there were herbs and poultices he kept on his person for small cuts and burns.

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"I'm trying, I just-" Voice bitten back into an almost-growl of a sound, Jack shook his head, squinting as he tried to call up the same little healing he'd done dozens of times. Zevran shifted into his field of vision and he frowned (absolutely frowned, not pouted) up at him, then Eugene. "I don't get it. I'm not even getting a signal from Nala."

[z_jay]

"You... aren't?" truth of the matter was he could attempt to heal himself as well. He didn't doubt Jack when he said he couldn't call Nala forth. Frowning slightly in confusion he placed his hand over Jack's and tried as well, meeting the same lack of response.

Then he offered his hand to Zevran, perplexed but confident that the assassin knew what he was doing. But he still kept his eyes on Jack, concerned and unsure. "Some sort of magical jamming going on? I can't, either." Turning to Zevran, he gave him a soft apologetic look for not acknowledging him right away and glanced down to his hand in Zevran's.

"I think it'll be okay, just need a bit of ice and some salve."

[antivanleather]

"Jack, fetch the ice?" Hurt tended to now, wondering about magic later. Though there is much to wonder about. For all the spirits are something Zevran avoids they've never been distant. Perhaps it is connected to the enlarged wings- though he'll ask about that later. For the moment he simply pulls a small pot of salve from somewhere upon his person and screws the top off in order to lightly massage the substance over the burn.

"Have they ever been so noncommunicative before?"

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Sitting and waiting clearly wasn't doing anything, so Jack retired to the icebox to gather some up into a towel. It felt better to be doing something, and after the events of the previous December, he found he didn't have much reason to doubt Zev's skills with tossing together far less magical remedies.

"Never," he called back over his shoulder, knotting the towel carefully before returning with it. "She's always quick to answer when I call, even when it's just practise."

Lockup to escape attempt

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Re: Lockup to escape attempt

[abjurer]

He knows that there's something in him and in the others. He can feel the spirit inside himself and the faint impressions of the others lingering inside his friends. His wings, huge and glossy black, were kind of a giveaway that something was wrong too. It left him on-edge like nothing else, knowing that something had seeped inside him unnoticed, and none of his usual tricks worked to get rid of it.

And why should he want to get rid of it when it offered so much, warm acceptance and support and... no.

God no. He hated being possessed. Hated the blur between his own thoughts and that other. He could feel the difference, the coil of dark power too and it scared him. He could hurt them. Or the spirits could, because don't think he hadn't noticed them lurking inside his housemates either, like nasty little parasites.

But it was fine. He'd keep them safe. From the spirits. From himself.

He'd set the wards up and it didn't take much to twist them, a mobius strip of a spell, no inside or out, and he packed a bag before trying to sneak out of the house. Better to go unnoticed.

Post- escape attempt

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Calling in a professional

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