@the-to-summarize-parade:
The occasional stroll was something the magician often did whenever he felt it was time for him to lay low and clear his mind. Several quiet moments under a navy-blue carpet. With nothing but the stars, which peeked through the cracks in-between the trees, to accompany him on that brief, aimless journey. It felt peaceful. Worthwhile. Despite usually enjoying the company of others, the time he spent alone was very much needed.
Little did he know, that lonesomeness of his was about to come to an end. Halfway through his stroll, around the time Owls often found their way around the night, he stumbled upon quite the situation. Debatably at the perfect moment.
Only a few meters away, he noticed a shade of blue much unlike that of the now much darker sky–one of fire, viciously illuminating the tops of trees in its area. Restless, as fire often was. Cautiously, Mordred closed in the distance between him and the bright hue, now noticing the presence of yet another magician as he hid in a blind spot. It eventually became apparent to him that the other had not done this on purpose. The cursing and the failed attempt at patching the situation up made it quite obvious.
A subtle smile found its way around the corners of his mouth. It reminded him a little of how out-of-control his magic used to be when he was younger. Especially when his emotions were involved. He couldn’t help but establish a sense of kinship with the other magician. He could relate. And that prompted him to lend a helping hand. Partially because it would’ve been a shame to leave the place at it was, too.
Eyes glistening in bright yellow, Mordred twirled his, now stretched, hand in rhythmic motion, whispering the incoherent words to a spell as he emerged from his hiding spot. A subdued brisk of wind brushed against both his and the other’s faces, as the field was swept into repair, the scorch marks slowly fading into the same shade of green as the rest of the field. The puddles levitated at Mordred’s uttering of a different set of ancient words, eventually merging into one whole puddle, which he was yet to evaporate.
The formerly yellow twinklers now faded into a grey-tinted shade of blue, which no longer glistened. Now that the situation had been contained, he could finally turn his attention to the other. A hello didn’t seem very appropriate at the moment, so instead, Mordred casually addressed what had just happened. “ Fire , huh ? ” he said with a simple chuckle. “ Might I suggest you try using it somewhere with more… accessible water ? ” He could recall testing his fire spells near a lake, where he could easily manipulate the water into dousing it out.
Mateo froze as he realized another had stumbled upon him, his fight or flight instincts almost trigged. He backed away quickly, electric cracking around his palms in response to the sudden intrusion. It took him a moment to realize that the other was helping him. A feeling of slight relief walked over him, but he was not totally at ease. This was certainly better than having a villager stumble upon the scene, as he did not want to have to alter anyone’s memory, but an unknown magician? That could pose a danger to their family. In fact, it had been a danger to the family in the past. Rivalry between groups of magical users was no unheard of.
“Thank you.” Mateo hesitantly replied, watching in appreciation as the field righted it self. “Usually, I have it covered...” He responded, producing a patch of frost and dew on the grass that stood before him, shrugging slightly. “Besides, the water sources are all too close to the village... The last thing I need is someone seeing me ‘working with the devil’.” He directly quoted what he had heard a woman at a local university spouting off recently.
“I wasn’t aware there were any other warlocks in the area, aside from my family.”
