8807/Magic 101

Magic 101
Date of Scene:	24 November 2021
Location:	Gun Range: Triskelion
Synopsis:	Cael finds Jon in the Gun Range and they have a talk about magic. Redfox is scared, there's magical fire, Cael gets a number to call. Second Rule of Magic: know when to run away.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker

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Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Of all places to track down the Archivist, one would not think to find him at the gun range--certainly not at a point when many agents are either asleep or working night shift. But that is, indeed, where he is, over in the area meant for training with "destructive armaments." And he is, indeed... training.

    He's wearing something that looks almost like scale mail, golden-yellow in appearance, with bands on the arms and a mask over his glowing eyes. Some kind of actual superhero outfit? Yes, an actual superhero outfit, because there's a cape involved, a shimmering, pleated thing that goes from gold up near the shoulders down through blue and into teal. It manages to look /almost/ like feathers. Almost. Something about the outfit doesn't /quite/ mesh, like he's trying something and it's not working just yet.

    The important thing, though, is what he's /doing/. There are tiny bits of yellow crystal scattered near the target area, and a few shards of the same stuff embedded in the target. As Cael arrives, the Archivist conjures up a fan of four crystals in his hand, then flings them toward the target, mouth set in a firm line.

    Only one of the crystals hits; the rest go wide. One of them embeds itself in the wall.

    "Gods /damn/ it all," he snaps. "You've played cricket, you should be able to /hit/ a bloody target."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Cricket is such a ridiculous name for a sport," Cael remarks as she approaches - an animal carrier, or all things, held in her hand. Cowering at the back of the carrier is the little red fox, still with boney plates extending down his back. She sets down the crate, opening the door before she remarks, "I honestly hadn't expected to find anyone down here." Though her eyes are on the little crate, her words are for Jon - and there's no sign the fox intends to emerge just yet.
    "But I guess it's fortuitous enough. How've you been, Sims?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The Archivist spins toward the sound, another fan of crystals conjured in his hand--and stops on seeing it's just Cael. Well, he's /jumpy/ all of a sudden. He glowers at Cael for a moment, presumably for the cricket comment, then turns the glower on the the crystals in his hand. Now that he's turned toward the door it can be seen his right arm's in a sling; he's throwing the crystals with his left.

    He turns back toward the target and flicks the crystals toward the target like darts, one by one, as he responds. "Could be better." One crystal hits the target. "Been... quite the week." Another hits. "As I'm sure you can tell, given the sling." The third misses.

    The fourth hits. Maybe he should just throw them like darts? He turns back to Cael, raises... well, by the motion of his face he presumably raises an eyebrow, under that mask. "How are you, Becker?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Yeah - how'd that happen, anyways?" Cael asks curiously - her gaze still on the crate, but the fox remains stubborn out of sight. Letting out a quiet sigh, she reaches into a pocket and comes out with a little baggie filled with a few blackberries. She tosses two of them just outside the crate - one a little further than the other - to try to coax the creature out. They'd see if it would actually work...
    "I've been- well. That's a bit complicated," she admits. "Alis almost botched a job - she feels awful about that - and I realized I had no choice but to bring her to the attention of the Senior Agents. ...she's off with Pezzini right not - being run through abilities." She finally looks towards Jon - her expression covered by its own mask, a practiced neutral expression.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The Archivist frowns at the crate for a moment, then reaches his left wrist over so he can touch the bracer he wears there with his right hand. He twists it, and not only does the glow fade from his eyes, but his clothing changes entirely. The scale male fades, the cape and mask disappear, and then he's just... Agent Sims, standing there in a fairly normal suit, arm still in the sling.

    "Abilities? Are they thinking of using a ghost on missions?" He quirks a brow. "I suppose there's usefulness there, but she's... well. I suppose she's perpetually 'young,' hmm?"

    He crouches down to peer at the crate, staying well away so the fox can come out without worry. "As for this? I was on a mission, and I got hit, hard. It was actually worse, but the rest of it was healed." There's a shadowed expression in his eyes, a tightness to his voice "The arm... resisted Agent Blackwood's healing abilities." He shrugs his good shoulder. "I heal fast, however, I should be back to duty in no time."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "The possibility is being considered," Cael replies. "She can't be more than half a mile from me, apparently, so... she's going on missions whether we like it or not. It all comes down to if she can be reliably put to use or not. She's willing. The challenge is - it has to be assumed she hears and knows everything I do - and more. So... If she can't handle classified information responsibly..." Then where does that leave Cael's career? "Honestly, I count myself lucky Chief Carter didn't dismiss me on the spot as a security risk."
    The fox had begun to creep towards the berries - but backs up once more when Jon peers in. After a few moments staring the man down, it bolts out, heading for a far, slightly darkened corner.
    "Sorry you were hurt - but I'm glad it didn't turn out to be more serious. Injuries are never fun."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns, eyes tracking over toward the fox. "Healing them doesn't take the memory of the pain away. I wouldn't recommend it, even if you have a healer about." He sighs, shakes his head, and straightens, as if just sort of... putting that aside.

    "Well," he says briskly. "How's the treatment coming along? Did you decide to fill those prescriptions?" He raises a brow. "I noticed you're looking into magical things more, that's good. How're you finding yoga?" He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's got his 'doctor' hat on, it seems.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "No, I can't imagine it does," Cael agrees. "But the memory of pain's better than lingering pain." Her eyes go back to the fox - finding it much easier to keep her eyes there, rather than to look towards Jon as they talk.
    "I filled the prescriptions," she admits. "I mean - it's literally impossible to avoid Alis's nagging. And she was determined that I- well. I'm giving it a try," she says a bit grudgingly. "I've been trying to look into the magic stuff - though it still doesn't make any sense to me. And the yoga's... over-rated, if you ask me. What do you really get from yoga that you can't get from a good, solid run?" There's something to be said for running yourself to near the point of exhaustion - especially if you use a treadmill to do it. Then you never even have to leave the comforts and safety of home.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "Admittedly yoga stripped of the spiritual aspect makes less sense, but there /are/ benefits to the ligaments and joints, the particular breathing involved, that sort of thing. Give it some time. If it's still not working in a couple of months maybe I'll ask Agent Wilson to switch out your yoga session for an extra run." He actually grins at her. Running at 7am doesn't seem terribly pleasant.

    "What about magic doesn't make sense?" He sounds honestly curious, an eyebrow raised.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I'd probably have an easier time explaining what //does// make sense," Cael replies in a dry voice. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a second ziplock bag and this one contains... a mouse? A dead mouse. She grasps it by the tail, and flings it towards the fox, watching it land a few feet away. The creature darts forward, snapping up the little treat and crunching it in its jaws before swallowing.
    They can't really re-release the thing - so she might as well try to earn its trust. Right?
    "I just - I don't know what rules it follows, if any. I don't know how to predict what will happen when //magic// is involved. I don't really understand all this nonsense about 'Gods of Death' or Hells or... any of it. Hell implies that Christianity is 'right' - but they don't believe in 'Gods of Death.' So...."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts. "I am living proof that Christianity isn't 'right.' I don't think /anyone's/ 'right'... the gods clearly /do/ exist, and angels and demons clearly /do/ exist, but the actual relationships between all of those things is... less than obvious. Magic doesn't have to have anything to do with gods and religion, however... Martin's doesn't, for instance. But... hmm." He frowns for a moment, considering.

    "Alright. So I will give the caveat that my knowledge of magic is something like the equivalent of secondary school-level physics. Newtonian mechanics and the like. I'm sure someone else could give you the details that are more like quantum physics or relativity, but... you don't need that right now, hmm?"

    He straightens his shoulders a bit. He'd have made a good professor; he has a voice for lectures. "Magic is at its core a matter of applying one's will to change reality. Unlike most physical processes that just... happen, magic seems to require a mortal soul to channel--you have to /have/ will in order to impose it upon the world. So, for instance, the world says 'fire requires heat, fuel, and an oxidizing agent.' /I/ say that I can produce fire in my palm."

    Jon holds out his left hand, concentrates for a moment. And then a flame leaps into being there, albiet a small one. He smiles. "Like so."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "So - the various religions are just trying to make sense of all of these things that already exist - and are just getting it wrong?" Cael asks. "Couldn't it be that magic is likewise trying to make sense of something that already exists - and //also// getting it wrong?" There's that determined, tireless skepticism we've come to expect of Cael.
    She watches the fire flicker to life in Jon's hand before remarking, "It has to be more complicated than that, though - or more people would be summoning fire. //I// can't hold out my hand and summon flame into it." She makes the effort though - starting at her hand as she tries to will fire into being - while simultaneously knowing there's no chance it'll answer her call.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs, though it's not a /heavy/ sigh. More like someone who's heard the argument before. "Magic isn't trying to 'figure anything out,' Becker. Whatever is /actually/ going on, the... underlying physical process, the fact is that what I do is about /me/ and /my/ will. The way /I/ do magic, I imagine something on the Astral Plane, and then will it into being here. So I imagined a fire that wouldn't hurt me, and put it in my palm. That has its limitations... I'm still working on actually /visualizing/ 'not fire,' for instance." He smirks at the fire on his palm.

    "There /are/ rules. And there are different types of magic. But all of them have that base underlying working--they are all methods of applying one's will to work on the world. Think of it like... trying to hurt someone. There's dozens of martial arts, hundreds of types of firearms, there's explosives, knives, swords, bats... all different ways to do the same thing--try to hurt or kill another. Fire, of course, can do that too." He flicks his hand and sends the little mote of fire toward the target area he was using, where it explodes out for a moment, hot enough to crack the leftover citrines, before fading.

    He blinks rapidly. "...And magic, for some, varies with emotion. I have some, ahh. Issues to work out, clearly."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You and me both," Cael remarks in a wry, dry tone. She watches the results of Sims' efforts - vaguely aware of the fox cringing in reaction, though she herself remains calm and relaxed.
    "Weapons I get. Sure, there's a bunch of different kinds of guns - all with different capacities, different rates of fire, different calibers... But at the end of the day, they all do the same thing. Hurl little bits of metal at people to kill them.I know what to expect from a weapon. Magic, though... it seems like it can do anything. You can produce flames, or little yellow crystals - yeah, okay, sure. But it can also turn people inside out and transport people to literal hell - and that's just what I've //seen//. What limits are there? Seriously?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Well... /I/ can't do that," Jon says with a frown. "Or... I don't think I can. Limits? I don't know. It's entirely possible one can create an entirely new universe with magic--but, then, if you /don't/ believe in magic then physical processes did the same thing."

    He shifts his stance a bit, rolls his good shoulder. "The one universal rule that I've found is that you don't get something for nothing. Magic takes energy, and that energy has to come from /somewhere/. There are people who can channel magic more easily than I can, but they have other restrictions I do not. I don't have to use all the signs and symbols and esoteric languages that, say, Constantine does, but I'm limited by my own imagination and doing too much takes a lot out of me."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "So. You can simply will things to exist - but others need rituals, and signs, and sygils. And the more ritual you rely on - the less energy it takes out of you?" Cael asks.
    She lets out a frustrated sigh before she asks, "But how does any of that really protect me? How does any of that reassure me that I'm not simply at mercy to the whims and vageries of magic users and //Gods//? How do I know I won't simply be snuffed out - just because someone knew they could?"
    A rational corner of her brain points out that she carries similar threats on a regular basis due to gun violence and the like - and she doesn't let that rattle her. And yet...

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs. "It doesn't," he says softly. "But understanding how it works means that maybe you can defend yourself against it. Understanding the strengths and weaknesses, the same way you would any weapon."

    He looks over toward the 'explosives' range, where some of the crystals littering the area are starting to fade. "Or you can let down your guard and entirely mundane elements can grab you right off the damn Hyperloop." He shakes his head. Takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.

    "I know who you need to talk to. I'll give you his number, if you like, but you've already been where he works. Chas Chandler, he's a friend of mine, bartender at the Laughing Magician. He's John Constantine's best mate, and he's just as normal as you. Moreso, even--he's a civilian. But maybe he can explain this whole business from more of a... practical point of view, aimed at the second rule of dealing with magic: knowing when to run the hell away."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Honestly, I think the most common sense reaction is 'is there magic? If so - run away,'" Cael remarks in a dry tone. "But... we exist to protect others from this madness - whatever source it comes from."
    She lets out a tired, frustrated sigh. "Well. Text me his number, and I'll look him up. But I should go see if I can coax Redfox into not being quite so frightened." She pulls //another// dead mouse out of her pocket, tossing it towards the frightened creature. Just how many dead mice did she bring with her?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon doesn't seem remotely nonplussed by the dead mice. "We need to get a cat," he murmurs. Sighs. "Martin should be back soon. I just... didn't want to be alone." He chuckles. "Of course, no one else was here, but at least..."

    He shakes his head, firmly. It doesn't do for the doctor and somewhat-teacher to look vulnerable. "Anyway. Think I'll hit up the food court. Tell Redfox I apologize for scaring him." He directs a sympathetic gaze in the fox's general direction, before he starts to walk toward the exit.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Well. I'll probably still be down here with Redfox when you're done," Cael offers, "if you want to try bribing him with food. I don't think he's had any vege today - so if you could grab - I dunno, some mini carrots or something..." she suggests. She offers a brief flash of a smile, implying that - well, she gets it. Everyone gets lonely sometimes.
    "I'm sure, eventually, all this stuff will make more sense to me." She's really not, but she's trying to be nice. "Thanks for trying, Sims." After a last nod towards the man, she turns her attention back towards the fox - sitting down on the floor as near to the creature as he'll tolerate. She'd spend more time with him - and eventually, when he was overwhelmed, he'd retreat back to his crate, and she'd take him back to the medical labs. Poor thing's had so many tests run on him - it's no wonder he's so wary.