“You’re welcome.” Micah nodded sagely. “Best wine I’ve found in this entire forest. I suppose I’ve lived in worse places than here too, but none that I’ve ever been incapable of walking away from whenever I wished.” Unless you counted his father’s home- but hadn’t he done exactly that, when all was said and done? Sure, it had been a much more complicated event than simply walking away but that’s what it had all come down to in the end.
“It’s symbolic, I suppose,” Micah answered absently, giving a slightly distracted grin. Hans’ questions were part of what made his company fun. He wasn’t sure who else would have asked such a thing, significance of the location. “You’re being called towards something, yes? What drives you, the heart or the mind? What’s being affected most? Best to cover both bases in case, though I’d wager it’s not the heart. But,” He laughed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if blood from anywhere would work just as well. When I take magick from someone, there needs to be a blood exchange. I like to use the throat, but there’s no reason an arm shouldn’t work just as well, in my opinion… less lethal to cut an arm, though, so looking at it from a standpoint other than purely in the interest of magick and how it works, the throat is best. But in this case I’m not trying to take any magick from you, I’m just trying to detect whether or not it’s there. Anyways, I suspect there are quite a few fancy extra steps we enchanters take in spells that we don’t absolutely have to. This could be one.” Or, maybe it wasn’t. Though he refrained from saying so to his current company, Micah was of the opinion that no matter how deep one delved into studying magick there would forever remain a layer surrounding it that science couldn’t explain. "May as well go all out, hm?”
He watched closely as Hans followed his instructions. “Close to the base of your skull, but not past the hairline,” He instructed, once the human was done with the one over his heart and reaching for his neck. He accepted the chalk, drawing a few tiny sigils on his fingertips before tucking the chalk safely into a pocket and picking up the knife. He cut into his palm, a more than familiar action by now, deeper than he had to for this spell out of simple habit. “Alright,” He said. “It won’t hurt or anything. I’m not certain what you’ll feel, if anything, but there’s no reason it should hurt. Please don’t talk until I’m through. It shouldn’t take too long, but I’m going to be concentrating.”
With that, Micah wrapped his hand around the back of Hans’ neck and began reciting the spell, utilzing pieces of the one he used when draining magick and one that was used by healers to isolate and identify curses and hexes. Hopefully it would be enough for him to see whether any magick was going on and maybe even be able to tell if it was fae or enchanter in origin, but like he’d told Hans earlier, anything more in depth than that and he’d need to gather some materials and perhaps even make a circle. He hadn’t been speaking loudly, more of a whisper than anything, and soon enough even that was over with, silence falling between them.
He’d never had to cast anything quite like this before. It was weird, to be poking around, linking himself to someone in such a way but having no intention of drawing their magick away for his own use. He’d certainly never done anything like this with a human. There was an obvious absence of the magick he was familiar with, but… there was something. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt before, and he wasn’t sure what it was. He wanted to pull at it, to investigate, wanted to solve this mystery no longer to simply help a friend but to sate his own curiousity. The spell wasn’t quite what he needed to be able to do that, though, and the runes he’d drawn kept him from trying.
After a moment, he decided there was nothing more for him to find out and he pulled away, severing the spell and the connection between them. He simply stared at Hans for a moment, and then he reached for the wine, taking a long drink and trying to organize his thoughts and clear his head, looking to the side. “There was magick,” He said, finally. “But it felt… weird. I suppose it could feel different from usual if it had been placed there and it wasn’t… native, or what have you, but I don’t… there’s no way it was anything from an enchanter, I can tell you that for sure. The problem is that it doesn’t feel right for a fae, either.” Micah was mystified. He’d felt the magick in countless enchanters, knew how to recognize what came from his own species, but he’d felt the magick than ran through the bodies of a fair number of fae as well and none of their magick had felt anything like that. “But what other options are there?” It wasn’t something he expected to recieve an answer to, a question directed to the world around them as much as it was to himself or to Hans.
He made a frustrated noise, scrubbing the back of his hand over his face. Maybe he was just drunk. Maybe it was an odd branch of magick, maybe the spell was distorting things, maybe, maybe, maybe. There were still far too many variables. But one thing he was sure of. “It didn’t feel as if it were residing there with malicious intent… so it’s not a curse. Not yet, at least, or not directly.” And that only brought up more questions. “I’ll have to gather materials and we can meet whenever you’d like to try and pinpoint exactly what’s going on here. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more right now. But at least now we know that whatever is going on, there is some sort of magick at work.”
He fell quiet a moment, mind still tripping over itself. “Have you had any especially weird encounters lately? With a creature that didn’t seem quite right, or with someone who was acting bit off? Anything that left a lasting impression? I…” He exhaled, shooting Hans a look. “I don’t like this. Do you want me to give you some protective charms, or cast something defensive on you? I’m not sure what else to do.” Micah frowned. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he’d tried to protect anyone other than himself or Gabriel (or the dog). It had probably been… hell, it had been years. Decades, even, back before he’d killed his parents. To be offering it now was… it was almost unsettling, and he didn’t know why he was. He didn’t know why he wanted to, only that he did.
There were times when a scientific approach to magick became frustrating, when the phrasing seemed ridiculous and vague, as if magick users were somehow decades behind the rest of the world. The fact that there was a spell based on the erroneous idea that the heart had anything to do with emotion would have been enough to cause a tremendous eyeroll in any other situation. Despite the foolish nature of the statement, Hans couldn’t help the warmth in his chest at Micah’s belief that Hans was driven by the mind. He’d been too often dismissed or ridiculed under the belief that he did not follow logic and rationality, that he was too driven by emotion and what he wanted to believe. For a brief moment he thought how strange it was that the person who somehow seemed most able to understand him had been in Hans’ office only a few weeks before intending to kill him. “Rather unscientific of you,” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “We could actually work to figure out which steps are of value by removing variables-”
He was cut off at the feeling of Micah’s hand on his neck and it took everything in him not to pull away from what could only be described as germ-ridden and disgusting. Presumably the enchanter had some way to keep diseases from spreading this way, or he would have died long ago from exchanging blood with his victims. He schooled his wince into a more neutral expression and focused his attention on Micah’s expression. In a weird way this felt like visits to the doctor as a child, sitting on the edge of a bed and waiting to hear if he was healthier than he’d been the last time or if something horrible was happening. Of course, no doctor’s visit had ever felt like this, like there was something inside of him reaching out and being held by some force. As he watched he could see a glow in Micah’s eyes, fainter than the one which had been there in the field that night, but clearly similar. Hans bit back the questions, remembering Micah’s warning, and when the enchanter pulled away he blinked.
The news that there was definitely some sort of magick at play made Hans almost dizzy with relief, likely would have even if Micah hadn’t said it wasn’t a curse. He hadn’t realized how strong the fear was that every word ever said about him would be right, that he was a madman blindly stumbling down some path with nothing but shame and regret and death at the end of it. But he was sane. It wasn’t his fault. Almost unconsciously he reached out to hold Micah’s hand in his own and squeezed it. Gratitude was a rare feeling for him but right now it was bright inside him. “Thank you.” At the enchanter’s question he frowned, searching through his memories for anything that could have done this to him. A thought occurred, but he was hesitant to mention it, afraid of where the story could lead. But if there was any possibility that Micah would be able to figure it out.. “There was a creature of some sort that appeared around the Solstice, one that could shift forms but... it felt different than this.”
He glanced down and realized he was still holding onto Micah’s hand and pulled it away, running his hand through his hair and sighing. He missed the contact, oddly enough, but things were more complicated here. Every move had to be so carefully calculated, and that went double with this enchanter. Hans wasn’t one to admit to lacking anything but if he listened to the tiny voice of honesty in him, there were very few people in the forest who gave a damn about him. He couldn’t afford to do anything that might push away one of that tiny number, and being too forward, too needy, could do exactly that. Weakness had no value. The offer of protection came as a surprise and he glanced back over at him.
“That would be-” he took a moment, looking for the words. “I would appreciate anything that might help.” It was possible that giving him more permission to cast spells on Hans was a bad decision, that any sort of talisman or charm could be a way of spying on the facility or worse, but when he thought about it Micah wasn’t in the habit of lying to him. Not that there had never been any points of tension - that morning in his office returned to mind - but even there, Micah had been honest about his thoughts and intentions. It was an odd realization and Hans tilted his head, looking at the other.