Magician’s Gate [Asra x Elizy]
Dedicated to the wonderful @asrashoneybun, creator of Elizy the apprentice!
I saw a headcanon about how the Apprentice’s magician’s gate is a huge library, so I took the liberty to imagine what Elizy’s gate would look like based off of that!
They’ve never, ever seen a place as bewitching as this.
Sunlight glints off of sparkling glass staircases as they spiral up into the great unknown; the steps turning new, dazzling colors that Elizy can’t name as the light shifts. Polished wooden walkways, suspended in midair, crisscross and intersect, draped in silken veils and tapestries which change in the blink of an eye - they spot one that depicts a scenic lake one moment, and a roaring party the next.
For a moment, they forget to breathe as they take it all in.
“This is. . . Incredible!”
In a blur of orange, green, and white, the loose fabrics of their clothes trail behind them as they drag Asra, fingers intertwined, towards a mountain of haphazardly stacked books. It’s something of a struggle to pick up the books that interest them the most - 101 Ways to Grill Shrimp, So You Have a Fennec Fox, and Herbs From the West - seeing as Asra doesn’t want to let go of their hand, but they manage.
“I knew yours was - I mean, your magician’s gateway - was pretty incredible, but I wasn’t expecting this!” They crow, books piled high in their arms.
Bending ever so slightly, Asra sweeps the books out of their hands in a fluid motion, speaking before they can even think of protesting.
“The gateway is a reflection of the magician, but I must say: this place is only half as beautiful as you are.”
They can feel the smile on his lips as he presses a fleeting kiss to their cheek. But the moment is over as soon as it begun, and when he pulls away, his smile only grows wider as he sees their expression change.
“Hey, stop joking!” Elizy smiles, laughter in their eyes despite their scornful choice of words. They give him a playful kiss in response, this one a little more zealous and lingering than Asra’s gentle affection.
Time passes in a haze. Has it been minutes, hours, or even days? They’re far too caught up in exploring, and time is different in the magical realms, so they hardly bother to keep track. The amount of stairs they need to climb, however, is almost discouraging. There are far too many paths to take, too many to count, and the amount of books they’re carrying (or rather, the books Asra is carrying) makes the task of exploration seem all the more daunting.
“So, how do you suppose we’ll get up there?”
Shielding their eyes from the light (where is it coming from, anyways?), Elizy points up to their current destination: a floor several stories above, the vines and branches of all sorts of exotic plants spilling over the edge.
They’re out of breath, and despite stopping for a snack of tea and fruits just minutes earlier, they’re already prepared to take another break.
Asra makes a small, disapproving noise at the back of his throat, shifting the books in his arms as he contemplates climbing more flights of stairs. He’s more than willing to continue, of course, if it means making Elizy happy. But they already look tired enough as it is.
“Elizy, could you come here for a moment?”
They shuffle over, confusion flitting across their features as their brows scrunch together. But as Asra walks them through the steps of the spell he plans to cast, a new, almost impish excitement dawns on their face.
It’s similar to the magic they’re used to, when they send dark clouds roiling across calm blue skies, when they call down rain to quench dry, cracked earth, but it’s also different.
With their hand in his, hair standing on end, magic like lightning sparks where their fingers meet. Elizy’s palms begin to feel warm wherever their skin touches his, although they aren’t sure if that’s because of the magic or something else entirely.
Eyes drifting closed, they can see it in their mind’s eye: water condensing and expanding into something, whose color and shape is undefined, light enough to fly but solid enough to support two people.
Then, with a flick of their wrist, it pops into existence.
It’s a cloud - at first, it scarcely seems substantial enough to support a person, much less two - but when they give it a few test pokes and an experimental kick, it holds, the fluff material bouncing back with each of Elizy’s attempts to pass through it.
They climb on first, Asra tumbling on soon after they offer him a hand. Books scatter across the cloud, some bouncing and some sliding. With a vague gesture upwards, they begin to ascend, their surroundings passing by slowly in a scenic panorama.
“Why didn’t you say something earlier? This is so much easier.” Elizy grumbles, flopping onto their back and rolling so they face away from Asra in a huff.
“Now where’s the fun in that? You were so excited to climb all those stairs.” Asra joshes, setting the books in his arms down and laying down as well. He knows they’re not really angry, as they rarely are, so he takes the opportunity wrap them up in a surprise hug, pressing his lips to the crook of their neck.
They don’t fight back. Instead, they rest a hand over his and laugh - a lilting sound which Asra loves so dearly - and with one hand they reach back, tangling their fingers in his snowy locks.
The moment they begin to relax, it hits them all at once: exhaustion. They’ve taken breaks here and there, sitting down on some of the piles of posh cushions dotted here and there, sometimes on Asra’s lap but exhaustion weighs down their limbs, dragging their fluttering eyelids to a close, their breath slowing to a steady, even pace.
And although they reach their destination soon enough, neither responds. They are, after all, fast asleep in each others’ arms.