I cannot find the story anymore, it is too far down. However, you had a story of where it was found, to protect Wraithvine from the bell, or from other such objects, was for hir to not use magic when confronted with them. So could we have a story of Wraithvine training hirself to do such things, by sometimes going as much as two days in a row without using magic? After all, it looks like ze's kinda... addicted to using magic all the time, so sometimes maybe hir learning to not use magic all the time? Like for lighting a pipe, tying hir shoes, those kinds of things? Just a thought? -- Anon Guest
[AN: That would be The Escape Clause over here: @internutter/challenge-03414-i126-the-escape-clause ]
Carry a match, the spectre said. Go without magic for a whole day.
It had been EONS since ze had gone without magic. Worse and worse, Elves were inherently magical. Under strong emotional stresses, it could leak from their very pores and cause... issues.
Baby Elves suffered from hysteria ghiblis[1] and manifested fat, blobby tears when upset. They sparkled when they were happy. And some young fools in the throes of first love were known to manifest flower petals.
Other inherently magical folk 'leaked' in other ways, but that was not Wraithvine's problem.
Hir problem was trying to figure out if 'leaking' counted in this particular bargain. Not that ze had 'leaked' in thousands of years. Perhaps the conscious use was all that mattered.
The other problem was actually quitting.
Magic made a great many things easier. Obtaining an object just out of reach. Making a fire of any sort. Making sense of prophetic sigils without the use of a ritual or magical tool. Mending a hole in hir boots or socks.
Magic was everywhere.
It was frustrating, especially since Wraithvine's first instinct was to use magic first and realise it later.
"You have a cloud over your head," noted Pondermore. "Is that normal?"
"Normal for an angry Elf who's leaking magic," grumbled Wraithvine. Hir pet cloud rumbled and flashed a little lightning in echo with hir mood. "I keep doing so well, and then... I snap my fingers without thinking and it's back to Hour Zero." More doodles on the ground. "If I cast a null-magic field on myself for twenty-six hours, is that using magic... to not. Use. Magic?"
A whisper on the wind, Don't try to rules-lawyer yourself out of this one...
"I hate this," muttered Wraithvine.
"Three hundred," said Vee.
Amatu handed over a single gold coin.
[1] In this world, known as the kind of tears as rendered by Studio Ghibli.
[Image by Alexander Grey on Unsplash]
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