Genie AU Cana/Lahar
Before today, Cana had always thought that the whole “rubthe genie’s lamp” thing was a euphemism. That the line in tales was code for “they bartered sex for favors” orsomething to that effect. Magic wasalways not what it seemed to be in the old storybooks and movies. Real magic was the ability to make the worldbend to your whim with nothing more than your charisma, a smile, and a jiggleof the appropriate body part.
It was magic that Cana herself had only about a sixtypercent success rate with, if she were being honest. Not everyone was susceptible to real magic,after all. If a person was toothickheaded, nothing would ever get through to it.
The cards she dealt as a part of her living? Chicanery and deceit, a little sleight of handand a capable dry read. Then she’d heapon her personal brand of magic, and weave her customers a spell they would bedazzled by.
Magic born of fae, born of djinn, and other magical beingsthat lurked in the darker parts of history, was relegated to a time in her lifewhen she was more prone to believe in the same puff and nonsense she nowpeddled. A time before reality had sunkits claws into her.
But then she’d bought an unassuming little lamp in a pawnshop.
Seriously, the thing was almost ugly. It was dull, and marked with a great deal ofsmudges of uncertain origin. But it wascheap, and Cana thought she could maybe spiff it up a bit with elbow grease andcraft glitter, rendering it usable as a prop in her act.
Then she had scrubbed a little too hard at a dingy spot, thecloth she was using to buff it out slipping out – causing her to rub the spotwith her bare hands instead.
Suddenly, blue and white smoke had come billowing out of thespigot, and she dropped the thing like a hot coal. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, as themetal glowed with heat.
Then, standing in her room, was a man in long robes, hisequally lengthy tresses pulled back from his face which bore wire rimframes. A book was clasped in his hand,and he appeared extremely annoyed as he peered around her domicile, takingstock of what little Cana owned.
Cana would have assumed he was a lost customer, anoblivious, normal human, if not for his unearthly purple hued eyes.
“I take it you’re the new owner of the lamp,” the man statedcalmly. He brushed off his robes, whichbore an ankh symbol. “Get on with it,then. I was at a good spot in my bookand I would very much like to get back to it.”
She could only stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded. This couldn’t be magic. No way. Djinn weren’t real! Magic lampsweren’t real! If they were, then she…
Shaking off the thought, she gazed back into the eyes ofbeing before her.
“…Do I need to explain the rules?” the being asked her,looking put out. “No bringing thingsback from the dead – I’m not a monkey paw. If you want one of those, I’d recommend going back to whomever youacquired my lamp from, they’re sure to have something of that nature.”
Cana didn’t want to have anything to do with a monkey paw,and she was a smart enough cookie to know not to wish for the dead toreturn. That never ended well.
“No true love spells as I am not a fan.”
She had to raise an eyebrow at that. Wasn’t it supposed to be more along the linesof, ‘I can’t do that because it’s unethical’?
“And no wishing for unlimited wishes, that’s against thespirit of the thing,” he finally concluded. “So you only get three. What willthey be? I would appreciate it if wecould make this snappy, too.”
Cana didn’t know much about his kind, but his attitude wassomething she was well familiar with. Straight-laced,unable and unwilling to bend even a little bit for other people. And it pissed her off. She dealt with enough snooty customers in herregular day, she didn’t need magical beings joining the parade of douchbaggerythat was her life.
An idea struck her then, and a slow smile spread across herface – one that drew out a long-suffering sigh from the man in front of her.
“I know that expression,” he muttered darkly. “I’m going to be here a while, aren’t I.”
“Depends,” Cana replied smoothly.
He looked exasperated by that response. “Depends on what?”
“Depends on how you feel about bending the rules of themortal realm.”
Distress stole across his face. “I am not going to enjoy this.”