wander_in_neutral | (no subject)

(no subject)

Milliways wasn't all bad, in some respects.

Sometimes in the early autumn evenings, there was a spot by the lake with a large rock that made for an excellent place to meditate..or to practice yoga or something similar. Some mages really didn't give eight pounds of rat crap about physical health, while others such as Tourmaline were a little more pragmatic about things. Sometimes you could multitask during them, such as she was crouching carefully on the gravel and breathing slowly as her eyes focused slowly onto a point just above the ground in front of her.

Half a second before the first tiny glowing white wisp of light rolled into existence, soon joined and rolled together with another until it became a little globe of white foxfire roughly the size of a golf ball.

"Oh come on now..."

Damnit, all of that and it was still the size of a goddamn golfball.

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Currently stretched out along a branch in a lakeside tree, mostly hidden from casual view, Thomas watches the woman work with a green-eyed gaze.

He's dozing, mostly, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he puffs at it lazily.

Looking some what disappointed in the relative size of the little golfball of light, Tour sighed and moved to transition slowly into the next stance without letting the light go out.

She wasn't doing this at the school because presently, it just wasn't bloody possible. Standing up, the ball rose up in the air with her, bobbing just a little. Except... it isn't time for her smokes, and there is definitely the smell of someone trying to smoke something nearby.

"Alright come out."

For a moment, Thomas doesn't realize he's being addressed. Though he figures the smoke probably gave him away. Not that he was hiding.

Bonelessly, he rolls off of the branch, and lands lightly on his feet, shooting the woman a wry look.

"Sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Of course." Though it's pretty damn obvious that the explanation given isn't all that well believed. There's a goodly raised eyebrow at the homemade cigarette hanging from the boy's mouth.

Oh, goody, the young gent was copying her. At least he hadn't picked up on tobacco...

"Tom, right?"

Hey, she's the one that told him what was in them. She should have known he would attempt things. Besides, he liked them.

"Yes, ma'am," he answers respectfully, remembering the magic he's just seen her do. "And I really didn't mean to intrude, but you stumbled across my napping spot, and I couldn't help but watch."

She's also the lady who deals with seven of some of the most severely maladjusted magic-borne teenagers this side of the Atlantic. At least that particular basket of winged ferrets stays safely at home, even if they do try stupid shit.

There's a glance back towards the tree he mentioned, and yeah.. it'd be the right distance to watch.

"...right then." Of -course- he found this interesting as well. Grand old time Tour, he was going to attempt to do what had just happened eventually... "Sit where you like... I prefer knowing who's watching me."

"Yes ma'am," he repeats, sliding to the ground to sit crossed legged, and yeah, there's a bit of cheekiness in his voice this time.

Hey, maybe watching will give him some more insight into his own issues.

If she just stuck to the beginner's stances...things might stay alright. For five minutes, Tourmaline eased through the easiest yoga stances and breathing exercises.

At least before turning around and sighing at Thomas, looking as if she knew exactly what the response was going to be, but had to ask anyway, "You're going to try copying what I'm doing when I'm not looking, aren't you?"

There's a considering look before the boy decides on honesty.

"You mean all the bending, or the..."

He trails off, wriggling his fingers in a pantomime gesture.

"Because i have enough problems with my own to be adding more to it."

..................Oh of course, this was starting to reek of a butterfly bitch moment right here. Tourmaline sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, she is going to regret this..

"...with your own what?"

"...magic?"

He's not sure he likes that grimace that the woman has going on right now.

"Tom, I am note frustrated with you. Merely someone else." ...She is going to light some pictures of butterflies on fire when she gets back home. There is a goddess of meddling in her home who has a lot to answer for.

"...I do these poses to help with the magic. You know what meditation is?"

"As far as I know, it's a lot of sitting still," he answers. "Though I can manage some without it's just...I end up burning myself more often than not."

He has all of her sympathy, all of it, when you're young and just learning all the things you can do... you accidentally do stuff quite often.

"Well, it's not always that." Tour smiles a little, it's a common misconception, thanks media. "How do you end up burning?"

He grimaces, shrugging out of his much-patched coat (he likes it, and doesn't want to see it burnt), and tugs up the sleeves of his shirt.

"It's probably best I just show you."

Already he's rubbing together the tips of his fingers on one hand, trying to coax out that heat and flame.

"Go for it."

Wouldn't be the first time her clothes got burned today.

Thomas nods, and for a long moment there's nothing except him chanting a low 'come on', as he pushes at the power.

At first it's just a faint spark or two, then liquid flame comes from his fingertips and his hand jerks at the sudden appearance of heat and light.

"Shit," he curses, the flames ending abruptly as the fire singes his fingers.

There is a lot that can be learned from just watching someone do something their own way. Tour does frown with concern as he manages to burn his own fingertips.

Half a pause later, she's offering out her hand to the lad, in part to inspect the damage."Does it always act like liquid?"

He extends his hand, letting Tour take it.

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's just sparks, other times it just all sort of goes foom in my face."

She's very careful not to press too much around the tips, while examining his fingers.

"How close are your hands to your face when it goes 'foom'?"

"I learned a good while ago to keep them well away," he says, grimacing just a bit as she inspects his hand. "Only took one time to figure that out."

"Do you just focus on your fingertips when you try to make the fire?" Once she's made her inspections of the damage from the burn, there's already at least half a lesson forming in her head about what could be useful for him to learn. "Or have you tried focusing on another point?"

Once she's done checking, she re-appropriates his hand, giving it a quick look over, himself.

"I haven't really tried focusing on another point. First time it happened, my hands are where it came from, so that's really that I've been focusing on."

"Really."

The first half of the lesson is sliding into place. Second half partially planned, but most of it depends on the first half goes.

"How open are you to the idea of a few lessons?"

There's genuine interest reflected back at Tour, at the mention of lessons.

"You could teach me how to manage all this?"