nightlogs | It's Only Magic [Open to All]

Entry tags:

✘ gus porter

It's Only Magic [Open to All]

Who: Gus and You
What: Witch child causes various ruckuses around Santa's Workshop
Where: Around the North Pole
When: All through November
Warnings/Notes: None, will update if needed

[Dining Area]

Alright, so maybe Gus shouldn't have shown off to the elves, but they were just so interested in his illusions, and it didn't even take that much. Bubbles in weird shapes and funny colors, butterfly swarms, banners with happy messages like "YOU CAN DO IT" or "HANG IN THERE BABY" while they were working. Gus had never had an audience so appreciative...or so easily worked up.

Gus was just enjoying some apple juice (the yetis promised him they'd find a way to get proper apple blood) and cookies when he was suddenly absolutely swarmed with elves eager for another show, knocking him off his stool and surrounding him in an impromptu elf mosh pit.

"Help! Do they eat skin!? Don't let them eat my skiiiin!"

[Training Room]

So if Gus understands this right, he's been brought here to fight magical monsters. OK. He can do that. Probably.

He thinks.

The problem is...Gus is not actually really suited for physical fighting. He's never been, well, useful in that way. He can make illusions and who even knows if those Fearling things can be fooled by them. He knew the shape-shifting weirdo he met when he first got here saw them, but shadow monsters were a giant question mark.

So now he's in the training room, staring down a training dummy about to see if he can throw a punch.

He rears back, makes a fist, brings it forward into the stomach of one of the training dummies...

And crumples to the ground, clutching his wrist. It's official: His little illusionist arms are not good for this.

OK, maybe with some kind of weapon. He comes back with a wooden training stick. He tries a swing and-

"Owwww..."

Now both wrists hurt. Maybe he should have played Grudgeby instead of Flyer Derby and build some more arm strength.

[Library]

Things happen. Gus is used to having the world move out from under his feet. When he learned the truth about the deadly cost of the Day of Unity, when The Collector appeared seemingly out of nowhere to change the rules of a game Gus had almost figured out how to play, and when he was stuck in the Human Realm with no way to get home and whatever was driving him forward crumbled in on itself and left him collapsed and sobbing in soaking wet grass that was the wrong color.

And he knows that learning the fate of his dad might be the thing that he can't bounce back from.

So he doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to watch forward into the cartoon they made out of the story of him and his friends.

But he does miss his dad so much it hurts.

So he tucks himself into an out-of-the-way corner of the library with a version of the show printed on one of those shiny cookies that taste bad humans use. And he watched the few clips of his dad that he can find. They didn't capture the best scenes of his dad: When he grounded Gus, the news report when he was covering the petrification of Eda, when he and his dad were covering the Gland Prix.

He watches them over and over with Emmiline, a small blue chameleon, in his lap, hoping it will soothe him. He's not even sure if it's making him feel better, but his eyes are definitely moist...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Now, what is this?" Loki drawls as he strolls into the dining area. Casually, as if he hadn't been sprinting there in alarm when he heard the first shouts.

"Can you not see that you are scaring one of the new myths? And a child, at that. What would Jack Frost think if he saw this display?"

The elves back up, and Gus worms his way out of the pile. He steps behind Loki's legs, like he's peering around a tree.

"I never knew an adoring audience could be such a hazard!"

Loki notices and lets his coat flare out more, giving the kid extra cover. He keeps his attention on the elves, though, giving them a hard look while shaking his head sadly.

"Did you hear that? Your admiration is seen as a danger. Is that what you want?" Maybe he's laying it on a little thick, but shaming the elves is fun.

Oh, maybe that's a little bit much. Gus feels kinda bad for the elves. They scared him, but were they really hurting him?

...OK they did knock him down and dogpiled him and that part hurt. But if they didn't do that on purpose. Probably.

"Hey, that's not...Look, I just don't want to be in a...what do humans call them? Moss pits?"

Loki observes the elves while deciding his next move. None of them are looking him or the youngster in the eye. Most are hanging their heads. A few are on the verge of tears. In other words, they've probably gotten the point.

He nods at the child. "Very gracious." And, to the elves, "And, what do you say when you have made a mistake?"

A chorus of mumbled semi-coherent apologies follow. Loki smiles, first at the elves, then at the child. "Well then, do you accept?"

"Yeah, Of course I accept!"

It's honestly kind of hard to see them cry. Gus isn't usually on this side of the sad adorable face gambit.

Loki seems to know his way around these guys. While they seem to be perking up, he whispers an aside:

"Am I supposed to shake all their hands? Is that what elves do?"

"You need not do anything you are not comfortable with," Loki murmurs in reply. "That is the point that they must learn. We must all respect each other's wishes while we are stuck here."

Sam is doing some research of his own when he spots Gus. And keeps spotting Gus, obviously engrossed in what appears to be more and more of the same.

When, by the time that Sam is done with what he came here for, Gus still sits there, the Get comes over and sits down near Gus.

"You okay?"

Gus doesn't move when Sam sits down, save to look at him and pull the earbuds out. He's still sitting with his knees under his chin.

"Yes? No? I dunno." he says, wiping an eye with his thumb, "Just homesick I guess."

A snort comes from behind Gus from a boy about the same age, maybe a little older.

"That was terrible."

He walks across the room and pulls the training stick from Gus' hands, ignoring any protests. "This is way too big for you. You're going to hurt yourself."

"Well, yeah," says Gus with no small degree of embarrassment, "I know that now."

He bristles when Boba pulls the stick out of his hands. Among other things, it's really rude. "Sorry, who are you?"

Boba goes over to the wall and puts the stick back, sizes Gus up, then grabs two different ones.

"Lucky," he answers, holding one of the sticks out.

Gus looks at it with suspicion, before taking it gingerly in both hands.

"Lucky? Wait, is that your name or an adjective?"

Boba rolls his eyes.

"Why would I call be calling you lucky?"

He moves in behind Gus and nudges the back of inside of his knees with his stick.

"Bend your knees and widen your legs. Move your hands further apart."

"No, I mean are you calling yourself lucky-"

The sentence dies in Gus's throat as Boba pokes him. It's kind of uncool, but Gus tries to get into the stance anyway.

"OK...what now?"

"Why would I be calling myself lucky? Hold your arms like this," Boba holds the stick in front of him with his elbows slightly bent and waits for Gus to mimic him.

When he does, Boba circles him again. Once he standing in Gus' blind spot, he gives him a firm shove to the shoulder.

"Hey!"

Gus isn't an unathletic person, so he doesn't fall on his face when he's shoved. He takes a few steps forward to regain his balance and then swings around to face Boba.

"What the heck, man?"

Boba ignores Gus' outrage.

"You need to bend your knees more. If your center of gravity is lower, it'll be hard for me to push you over. Get back into form."

This time Boba gets into it too. Despite the couple of years difference in age, they're about the same height.

"Being closer to the ground means you're more stable. If you lose your footing, you lose the fight."

Gus eyeballs Boba. He's been in this position before, where someone who said they wanted to help was just picking on him. It's been better or worse depending on the person, but Gus can't help but be wary.

He...thinks Boba is trying to help him still. He does indeed get back into form, trying to copy his stance as close as possible. The advice does sound useful.

"Like this?"

Boba looks him up and down, then moves over and nudges his ankles with the stick so Gus will spread his feet apart a little more.

"Better."

He reaches out and pushes against Gus' shoulder. He doesn't put as much force into it. He's checking whether Gus is stable, not trying to prove a point. Gus should be able to keep his balance without much effort.

He does, and it feels...kinda good? Gus likes learning new things, and has grown to enjoy athletic activities through the Emerald Entrails. Maybe it's just the heady feeling of hey, I did it! but if he looks more confident, it's not an illusion.

"Haha! Just try to push me over now, monsters! And Flyer Derby teams!"

Boba rolls his eyes and lets Gus celebrate for a moment. Once he seems like he's done, he pushes Gus again. This time harder, and from a different angle. Gus should lose his footing this time.

"Don't get cocky."

Cocky gets you killed.

Boimler is going to the training room to actually train because the training room makes for an absolutely poor Holodeck and that means he can't write adventure holoprograms.

It suuuuucks.

But he does need to practice fighting because he can't just rely on his phaser. That much is clear from the fight with the Borg. Mariner, thanks to having her bat'leth, still had a bladed weapon to use and was able to go full Worf. He hadn't and that's pretty much why he's got a metal spine now.

So...he asked the yetis if they could somehow get him a sword. They said there was a whole room of them and that they could give him one of the ones their owner wouldn't mind losing as much, buuut to try his very best to not lose it.

He almost gave it back immediately when they handed it to him. It was crafted so well and etched so intricately and it wasn't hard to guess who the "N" stood for. But they insisted its owner would want it used to protect the kids and save everyone. And that he favored sabers anyway.

So it's sheathed and strapped at his waist as he walks into the training room. His phaser is in a more external holster now as well, to make it a faster grab. He has to make sure he's ready for a fight when one happens, even if he doesn't want to fight. It's his least favorite part of being in Starfleet. He wants to explore. But least this is a deeply cut and dried thing to fight for, even if the weight of it is heavy.

...waaay too heavy for a child.

When he sees Gus, several successive thoughts tumble all over each other and stop halfway.

"Sorry, I didn't realize the room -" was taken.

"What are you -" doing here, small child?

A pause and a raise of his eyebrows.

"...Wait, are you Vulcan?"

The ears aren't quite the right shape and the eyebrows aren't dramatic enough, but there's always variation in every species and sometimes people are mixed-species and their features blend. It's just the most obvious feature to ask about to probe for whether Gus is from the same universe and recognizes the word "Vulcan."

To Gus it looks like the man that just walked into the room has a Cosmic Frontier-esque uniform and commbadge, and yes, also a sword, but also also a Cosmic Frontier-esque energy weapon strapped to his waist. To highlight the Cosmic Frontier-ness of it all he even has cyborg implants on his face like Chief O'Bailey.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's Only Magic [Open to All]

[Dining Area]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Library

no subject

[Training]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Training Room