happilyeverbeginning | Blessed be the meadow, blessed be the forest (magica x scrooge)

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Blessed be the meadow, blessed be the forest (magica x scrooge)

As far as Magica was concerned, change only came in two ways - huge, overpowering impacts, and then things so subtle you didn't notice until it was pointed out. Her farmhand had a bit of both - his arrival was the former, and him staying was the latter. At first she had expected him to leave once the weather was warmer, yet now they were in the fresh brush of spring and there were no signs of him moving on. With every passing day, it was if he became more attached to her life, and it was getting harder to think of life without him. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

With his help, the farm house that was once falling apart was regaining life, with the holes patched the animals taking shelter longer than usual. The land itself was thriving more than ever, with her harvests bringing in more than their usual share of food. There had even been changes to Magica herself, though she had yet to notice - fuller meals meant a fuller body, and nights without worry of survival removed the darkness underneath her eyes. But there would always be things that could not change - the mask covering the right side of her face was proof of that.

Scrooge hadn't been able to pry what happened underneath there just yet, but there were little hints here and there - whatever had happened might have happened to her entire right side of her body, as there were days she was so full of pain she needed a thick wooden cane to make it to the nearby village to sell her wares. She was the Witch of the Woods, known to the village as a heretic for going outside the laws of the gods - so the villagers saw. Little did they know she was more of a purist than they'd ever be.

The day had been growing dark, and Magica headed to the farmlands, calling out to Scrooge as kindly and cordial as ever.

"Get inside, rags for brains, it's about to rain. If you catch a cold, I'm not going to be your nursemaid."

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"You're welcome," he told her.

He got up and headed to retrieve some wood to heat up the water.

"Are you sure you don't want me to save some hot water for you? It won't be too much trouble and we don't want the wood to go to waste."

"I'll..." For once, she managed to bite down the bile that was always ready to come out. "... think about it."

He nodded his head and headed off. It really wasn't hard to get the water nice and hot with magic alone, but he didn't want her to get suspicious. Instead, he only used just enough magic to help the wood catch and slow down the burn, nothing complicated or out of place.

Magica took no notice - even if there had been something to truly ponder, she was too deep in her own thoughts to notice it.

Once she was sure he wouldn't see, she flitted to her shelves, and pulled out one of the texts concerning The Wandering God. In this particular tome, she'd never read the last two sections concerning Love and Fertility, since she'd been convinced she'd never have either. So for the first time she scoured the pages, trying to find some way to douse the flame Scrooge continuously ignited in her.

There did seem to be some passage about getting others to stop their affections for you, if she translated that correctly... maybe if she tweaked it here and there a little...

The embers under the cauldron were dying, but they'd do for a short, quick prayer. Magica plucked out one of her freshly brushed hairs - since it'd been smoothed by a working hand, she hoped it counted - and threw it into the embers as her sacrifice.

"Take mine heart and close it tight, let no embrace come this night, cease my warmth and make it still, let no heartbreak be my ill."

Scrooge the mortal wouldn't have been able to hear it.

But gods can hear prayers.

He sat up in the tub, hearing her prayer as clearly as he would've had she whispered it directly into his ear. His heart twisted at her prayer.

Why would you want this? he asked, sending the query back to her as an emotion.

Magica didn't question the emotion, feeling it as her own mind asking herself. Yet instead of answering it mentally, she felt an odd compulsion to speak it aloud.

"A life trapped by pity is not one of love, no matter how sweet the delusion." Once he inevitably saw her body, any trust would be gone. She'd never be sure if he stayed for her or because of what she "was", and trapping him with guilt would be as bad as if she'd ensnared him in chains.

Why should anyone feel pity? You have managed this farmstead with your own two hands despite any handicaps. You are a very capable woman.

He didn't pity her. Not in the least.

"I'm not some naïve young thing. No matter how hard I work or how clever my spells, in the end if a man cannot enjoy looking upon his woman, she is not his woman." Physical attractiveness was shrewd, yes, but still essential.

"Better for him to find a woman who wasn't ruined by the world. Better for me to seal the wound before it bleeds."

And would you seal yourself off from one who can look beyond your scars? That seems...ungrateful.

Scrooge folded his arms on the edge of the bath, floating on his stomach. He rested his chin atop them and closed his eyes to better focus on their conversation.

That seemed to sting, and it hurt so deeply she hadn't yet realized these were no longer her own thoughts.

"I didn't ask for him! I didn't ask for these feelings!" Though she'd never asked because she thought even that was beyond the powers of a god. "I didn't ask for a chance that could hurt me as powerfully as it could heal me!"

Heal her? Was she covering some sort of curse?

Perhaps this man will be the one and perhaps not, but that doesn't mean you should try to avoid everyone, he gently chided instead. You will never know if you keep yourself away.

Edited 2020-10-10 01:12 (UTC)

Not a curse of black magic and spells - but a self-made one all the same, locking herself away from the world so she wouldn't be hurt. She began to weep quietly, pressing her hand to her revealed eye in a desperate attempt to make it stop.

"If my own family didn't want me, I shouldn't expect anything more from the rest of the mortal plane..."

Do you want to be loved?

Such a simple question to speak aloud but a heavy one to answer.

Heavy indeed - so powerful that it sent her to her knees, and any hopes of stopping her quiet tears died a it turned into wracking sobs.

She hated this. She hated all of this. Because no matter how she could try to deny or excuse or work around, the simple question had a simple answer.

"I do," in a pathetic, broken whimper.

Then you need to be open to opportunities. It's a risk, a very large risk, but it will be rewarded in time.

He would have to see that the person who replaced him here would be able to love her. No easy feat, but it was the least he could do.

There was no response from Magica - she was far too upset to form any coherent words, crying in anguish and fear. Eventually she forced her hands over her beak in an attempt to muffle the sound - last thing she needed was for Scrooge to hear and ask what had happened.

But she knew even if he did see her cry, he'd do something stupid and kind like hold her close. Which was part of why she was attracted to him in the first place, damn it all.

Scrooge got up from the bath, drying himself off. He used a little bit of magic to slow the fire so she could get a proper hot bath.

He then walked out, pausing as he saw her.

"Come on," he told her gently. "I'm not sure what happened, but a hot bath'll make you feel better."

Just as expected. No prodding or prying, just helping. She slowly wobbled to her feet, the extensive crying having worn her out. Her bleary eyes looked at him...

And then held him. Who knew if she'd ever have the strength to actually give her feelings spoken words, but she could at least manage this much.

Scrooge was surprised before he held her gently, trying to comfort her.

Poor lass. He wish he'd known what had happened to her to make her this way. He'd have to find a good lad for her.

She clung tightly to him, her face in his shoulder, almost thinking he must be able to hear her heart beating because it was so loud and rapid.

Slow as ever, she looked up at him, gazing right into his eyes, swallowing in realization at how close their faces were. She almost wished he could read her mind, so she wouldn't have to say anything, and doubting her eyes were conveying all that she felt toward him.

"It's all right." He gave her a little smile. "You're okay."

Even when weakened by woes, Magica was still a little spiteful - a leopard can't change its spots and all that, even with the cleansing power of love.

Which is why she began to frown and uptick an eyebrow - stupid bastard, couldn't he take a hint? A crying woman throws herself into his arms and then has a staring contest, what else would it mean? Hadn't he ever been with a woman before?

... Okay, fine, she'd be happier if he hadn't, but. Still. Spite.

Bizarrely enough, that gave her more courage than admitting her feelings did - fine, he wanted a more subtle clue? Let's see if he could handle this. Without thinking about the consequences - a hard habit of hers - she suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

Oh. Oh dear. This was not good.

Should he pull away? He'd never been with anyone even before his ascension. And he was no mere mortal now. Relationships between gods and mortals never ended well for the mortal.

He let her kiss him for another moment or two before he pulled back. "Magica, I...I've never been with anyone," he answered honestly as his mind reeled for an explanation for why this couldn't happen without giving up the truth. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to have a relationship just yet."

...That was kicking the can down the road, wasn't it? Blast it. At least it wouldn't be him rejecting her based on her. She wasn't the one at fault in this situation.

She hadn't expected him to dip her low and return a passionate kiss of his own - maybe a tiny part of her had hoped - so to have the kiss broken off wasn't a giant shock. She was even ready to counter his first confession, since she'd never been with anyone either.

But the second explanation was more of a punch to the gut than a kick. He'd see her face crumble, sadness forming in her eyes. Yes, it had hurt. Even the most gentle of rejections had still been a rejection - he hadn't even wanted to give her or this a chance.

She'd taken the risk and still gotten hurt. Served her right for trying.

She violently pulled away from him, heading to the bath - it didn't matter if it was ice cold now, she had to get away.

"Magica, w-wait!" he pleaded, following after her.

Oh gods, he'd screwed up. He'd screwed up so badly.

What had he been thinking with all this? He should've been on his way ages ago...At least then he couldn't hurt her.

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