If There's a Reason

[Erin Vivant]

OOC: Jack McCarthy - Here you be! Let me know if you'd like anything changed


"Good day to you Miss Vivant!"

"Hello, Hugo, and please, how many times must I tell you, you can call me Erin." The baker waved his hand and a cloud of flour billowed into the air. "What can I get Miss Erin today?" He asked, smiling at his compromise. "Do you have any of your blueberry tarts?" Hugo nodded and plucked a basket from the back table. "Anything for you."

She reached inside her satchel to pay him, but he raised his hand again, "No no, they are on the house." The baker's always been known for his generosity, but this is too much. "Hugo, I couldn't possibly." He tutted. "Of course you can. Besides, I know these aren't for you. Give my best wishes to those little tykes, will ya? I'm honored they like my tarts." Erin smiled wide. "I'll do just that."

Her trip to the baker was a weekly ritual, the tarts a treat for the children she looked after later in the day. Marla and Madeline were sweet girls, two of Erin’s favorites. Their parents were farmers, but last year’s harvest had not been kind, and ever since they’d struggled between having enough to eat versus having enough to sell. Erin brought them things like this whenever she could.

As she made her way down the packed dirt path to their cottage, a crumbled figure on the side of the road caught her attention. She approached him, her good-natured concern outweighing her caution. “Are you alright, Sir?”

[Jack McCarthy]

Jack could do this….he knew for a fact that he could do this, He had to. He could feel it in this bones, in his body across all of his extremities higher or lower, that he wasn’t...he wasn’t meant for this...he was ….special. I mean, of course he was, just look at him. He had to be..he couldn’t exactly rationalise why he felt so strongly about this particular subject, like most things he he didn’t need much in the way of logic. He really didn’t think much of logic or anything remotely following that kind of thing, which is why he followed a theory that he had some kind of magical powers...he didn’t know how or what form but he MUST have had some in some way or another…



Which is why he was staring at the stick right in front of him laying unmoving on the ground. He was sitting crossed legged in front of it, staring at it intently his face going pretty damn red every muscle on his face unbelievably tense , his teeth gritted in concentration looking his head was in danger of exploding. His hands were slightly raised up in front of him, motioning in a general upwards direction shaking somewhat “Come on...Come on…” he muttered over and over again in a low whisper almost willing himself to influence the twig without actually touching it



When the woman actually spoke to Jack, he didn’t look away from the twig, merely pointing a finger in her general arena “Don’t talk I’m at a critical stage…”

[Erin Vivant]

Upon closer inspection, she saw that the man was hunched over a twig. The splinter of wood lay unmoving at his feet, though it appeared that he was very much trying to will it to life. Erin’s brow furrowed. Typically those with magic kept their craft quiet, lest they attract the unwanted attention of more suspicious foes. This man, however, seemed to hold no talent for magic, nor discretion, as he continued to grunt with concentration. His efforts were useless though, despite his protests.

Arching a brow, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, watching him with an amused glint in her eye. Just then, a gust of wind blew through the narrow alleyway, carrying the twig off on the breeze and depositing it a few paces away. “Impressive.” Erin teased.

“Tell me, do you always attempt magic in the middle of the streets? Aren’t you concerned of what might happen to you?” Regardless of whether or not the boy had any arcane talent was beside the point. His displays were bound to get him in trouble sooner rather than later.

[Jack McCarthy]

Yes, of course, he was looking at a twig, it only made sense for him to try and do ...whatever it was that he was attempting to do, even Jack wasn’t exactly sure he was trying to do. Make it float? Make it twitch. Make it dance….Jack just wanted something...ANYTHING to happen with it, and naturally he was using a twitch, after all, a stone didn’t work nor did a patch of grass, so the twitch seemed to have the middle ground between the two….so that was logical right?


Right….


Jack was annoyed just a little that his oh so valuable attention was being diverted by this conversation that he wasn’t spending trying to focus totally on trying to force the magic out of him...or however it was that magic and power was meant to work. As soon as Jack turned his head he tried to block his head as much as possible


Come on. Come on. Magic. Magic. Magic. Do something Magic. Magic. Maic. Mag-


With a horrified high pitch almost canine like whine, Jack watched on helpless as Jack’s point of focus flew away at the mercy of mother’s nature’s wind Jack dived leaping forward trying to hold it back in place but his hands clenched helplessly at the air as he strubled back to his feet flalling his fists at the open air in sheer childlike anger “FUCK YOU WIND!” He muttered loudly groaning to himself as his best-laid plan crumbled all around him as he turned back to the woman looking somewhat bashfully “...I meant to do that, that was me. Controllling the elements. VERY powerful stuff”,


Jack frowned a little at the question not sure how to answer that, knowing full well that magic wasn’t exactly something that’s looked on with a fair amount of fondness….but there was never a lot of logic behind them in the first place. “I live in a allyway eating scraps of bread, but I’m feeling so adventious today that I might just risk that lofty standard of living”