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themockingcrows · 8 years ago

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Doors of Fate Ch. 3 Rising Light

Unrelated BroDave AO3 Mirror [X] This chapter is SFW

Be it a musical breakfast or learning the ins and outs his new home as the snow envelopes the outside world, Dave is coming to realize precisely what it means to be married to a magic user. From flying honey to a house and a half of books and preserved creatures in jars, there doesn't seem to be a halt in the fountain of new things to explore and experience. Why is it, then, that a simple ball of light is what will likely change both of their lives forever?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dave woke the next morning as if surfacing from some deep pool, groggy and weightless as he stared at the ceiling. It took a few minutes to remember that he had a body, much less how to actually use it. His hands and feet tingled, and the blankets were extremely warm compared to the cool air that cradled his face, but nothing felt unpleasant or stifling. He slowly sat upright and stared at the blanket for a moment, rubbing his fingertips along it before reaching down to his nightshirt and pulling it out a bit to glance down at his own chest in the silvery light that was streaming in through the windows with their parted curtains.

The material was soft and fine, comfortable, and far more luxurious than anything he was used to experiencing. No signs of any strange marks or brands, no sudden collars or anything else of the sort. No pains.. So far, there were no signs of any nefarious happenings from his new spouse while he was sleeping, which was more surprising than he wanted to admit. He expected Ambrose to be a beast at the first opportunity, and yet he'd been so thorough in warming him up and putting him to bed.. there had to be something sinister lurking behind those bright eyes of his.

Dave groggily glanced around his room once more before rubbing his eyes with his forearm, wiping away the sleep enough to finally realize there was a delightful scent in the air. Something sweet, but also the alluring aroma of fresh bread, the smoke reach of bacon.. Breakfast. Such a familiar scent of breakfast. The door was cracked open to the hall, presumably to let him call out if he needed anything, or perhaps just to wake him when the food started cooking, similar to how his mother would start baking early in the mornings and wake him that way instead of coming to prod him half the time.

.. Was any of this real? Maybe the marriage and all the snow was a dream, and he was only now on the verge of waking up back home. Or he was still deeply asleep, perhaps. If he walked outside now, it would be to his mother cooking and the pet cat being three times his size, the sky would be green and the grass would be the clearest blue he'd ever seen. Dave swung his feet out from under the blanket and pushed himself off the cushy bedding to stand upright.

Nope, definitely awake. The chill of the floor was enough to make Dave's flesh crawl and a shiver race down his spine. There were no cold floors in dreams, it would be criminal if there was, which meant..

..What was that man up to.

Creeping along as stealthily as a young man could in a set of nightclothes in an unfamiliar place, Dave wandered along a richly decorated hallway and crept down a set of stairs, following the alluring scents in the air till they were joined by the familiar sounds of crackling and sizzling food and fire. He expected to see, at most, breakfast. His mistake of course was expecting something so simple in the house of a magic user.

Ambrose was wielding a frying pan and a spatula, and seemed to be intensely focused on whatever he was working with, and somehow managed to be the most normal thing in his range of vision. Things were moving. Jars, bottles, bowls, all were steadily moving in time to some unheard rhythm to either return to their original spots or to come add something somewhere and then return. When the mage leaves the pan alone, it continues to gently lift and jiggle to avoid burning the bacon he had been so carefully tending, spreading grease around and making each surface cook evenly without curling up too much. Another pan got the contents of a bowl added to it, bubbling and hissing gently as it started to cook. Ambrose hums softly in time with the moving items then, a song Dave feels like he's heard before, but can't quite place.

Why did it sound so familiar. Perhaps it was a song he'd heard when he was younger, or something from his region at least. He may not have traveled, but this man obviously had and made regular visits to his village, that must be why it was familiar.

Ambrose crossed the kitchen to the table to set out cups and saucers, a teapot, and then two smaller mugs alongside it. Without a comment, he lifted his sharp eyes precisely to where Dave was standing silhouetted in the doorway and grinned before he turned to go back into the swing of cooking, checking on the progress of all the automated food. Dave froze like a deer in a hunter's sight and stared at his back as it retreated, fascinated.

There was literal magic in the air, and yet Dave couldn't help but focus on how different the mage looked today. He looks calmer, lighter, happier. He was wearing brightly stitched slippers and loose trousers, a baggy tunic and a shawl that looked like intricate shimmering whorls of sunset around his shoulders to ward off the chill, hair tousled and looking quite slept on. There was no glamour at work, no predatory sense to that grin. He seemed.. happy. Like a child playing with a shiny new toy instead of simply a grown man making food.

“..You really are a mage of great power,” Dave finally managed softly, watching an onion rise from across the room and bob in time with Ambrose's humming as it made its way to the chopping block to be sliced by a similarly moving knife. The diced pieces went to join the bacon in the pan, hissing and sizzling wildly as it began to cook in the grease, perfuming the air even further.

“You say that as if it's surprising,” Ambrose said before gesturing with his spatula. “Have a seat, Dave, near one of the plates if you would.”

Obediently listening to both his new husband and the snarl of his own stomach, Dave takes a prompt seat and swings his legs idly to let his toes drag across the warmer floor, watching the bewitched utensils and pans and seasonings slowly finish their missions and come to a halt where they needed to be at last. Eventually, Ambrose came over to dish up eggs, crisp bacon and onions, and fluffy breakfast cakes onto both of their plates, only enhancing Dave's gaping fish imitation. When the food was served, he returned the last pan to the stove and pointedly finished up his song, urging all the items in the kitchen to find their proper homes on their own with a series of soft clinks and thumps.

He poured hot water into the teapot and dropped in a sachet that smelled sweet and spicy the second it hit the water, intending for it to steep for a time. Dave's fascinated, because that certainly doesn't smell like the teas he's experienced at home, all lemon balm and mint and dried fruits or bits of other herbs and flowers. He stiffens however when Ambrose went away with the kettle and came back with a knife in hand, along with some kind of dark colored block. He turns it like a piece of strange wood and shaves pieces of the block into both of the mugs before leaving once more to pick up a small pot from the back of the stove. Dave can tell in an instant that it's hot milk, creamy and rich and fresh, but his heart sinks as it's poured into the mugs with the weird shavings, and he feels a bit sick as it quickly turns to a murky brown color.

What a waste.

When Ambrose sat down finally and adjusted his shawl, he gestured at Dave's plate with a broad hand. “So, which do you prefer? Honey or syrup? Or are you more of a preserves or molasses person? Perhaps a flavored syrup instead, or clotted cream..”

Dave stared for a moment, caught between wanting to dive onto his plate and devour every inch of it as it was and wanting to see what else this man had on offer. He looked around, then realized there were several small jugs and jars on the tabletop, all of which were stoppered firmly or covered with a lid. Each was different in design or shape, different colors of paint, so there was no need to label the mystery contents within.

“...Honey,” he said after a second of thought. Was it meant to go on the cakes or in the drink? You couldn't go wrong with honey, right? It was perfect in every way. Ambrose nodded in understanding and reaches for a brownish jug for himself, pulling the stopper out and pouring a thick amber colored syrup onto his own cakes, while a blue jar moved itself out of the group and hopped carefully to Dave's plate to await use. Cautious, he opened it and sniffed the contents. ..Yes, that's definitely honey, golden, sweet and familiar. He was fairly sure there was a comb in there as well actually, texture visible to one side within.

The burning question that remained however was if it was safe to eat. Was any of this safe? Things seemed so nice right now, if not exactly normal, what if it was some kind of a trap. Dave's stomach twisted uncomfortably as he remembered his mad dash for freedom the day prior. What if there was something hidden in there that woul-

Ambrose reached over and took the jar, tipped it to pour some of its contents on his fingertip, and popped it into his mouth before returning the jar to Dave's hand.

“It's safe,” he said, already knowing what had to have been running through his spouse's mind to drag such a worried look across his features. Dave's face reddened, but he nodded and mumbled a thank you as he added some of the honey to his breakfast cakes. Ambrose removed the steeping sachet from the teapot and poured the liquid, red and aromatic, into the waiting tea cups as if nothing in the world were wrong. How could he seem so nonplussed despite what had just happened? No comment? Nothing? Not a word about how his husband was STILL worried about potentially being poisoned, just moving right on to pouring tea? Dave wasn't sure how the hell he was going to survive this marriage even if Ambrose never did anything to him; he would be capable of embarrassing himself to an early grave all on his own power at top speed. Fate was either stupider than he thought it was now, or it had unattainably high hopes for him.

Now that the syrups and tea had been dealt with, Ambrose stirred the muddy looking mugs with a spoon and lifted his own to his lips to sample, nodding happily at the flavor he'd managed to achieve. Proper measurement this time, not weak at all, perfect. Dave didn't look pleased at all. Rather, he twisted his face as anyone would while observing someone drink mud, lip curling back in disgust and brows furrowing. ..Eugh. What was even the appeal there..?

Avoiding the mug entirely, Dave went for his tea instead, taking a cautious sip after a few cooling puffs of air were delivered, and letting the liquid wash over his tongue. Berries, fruits, bitter and sweet mixing together with spices that felt like he was pulling on a warm blanket instead of just drinking something. He actually sighed and closed his eyes for the next few sips, just taking in the entire experience as it washed over him. Dave startled when he realized that Ambrose is watching him with those piercing eyes, lips curled in amusement.

“What?” Dave asked immediately, frowning, making a point of looking Ambrose up and down, wondering if he could make him look anything but perfectly calm and collected.

“I was just appreciating how attractive you look in the mornings,” he said, glancing down to get his fork, cutting through a cake and dabbing at the syrup with it before popping a bite's worth into his mouth. “I was also appreciating the fact you woke up when you did. These things are easy to make, but it's a bit more complex to keep them warn without risking everything becoming dried out or chewy.”

So it was going to be like that, was it? Dave sets his jaw and looks at his plate, devoting all of his focus on his food instead of sparing any looks towards the mage, wanting to get his meal down and possibly savor the taste while it was fresh. This was quite a spread, to the point it felt like a holiday, but from how normal this seemed to Ambrose it looked like this was probably what Dave was going to be having on offer at any time.

A place with such diverse food readily on hand.. and now he LIVED here. Perhaps not all was sorrow and doom and gloom after all: there were breakfast cakes.

Ambrose gently tapped at his own mug to make a sound before lifting it to his lips.

“You're missing out, you know. This is a drink much better enjoyed while it's hot.”

“No thank you,” Dave said immediately, slicing his egg so spread the yolk. “You can have it all, since you seem to like drinking it.”

“..Do you not like things like this, then?” he asked, lifting his mug up and quirking a brow.

“Aside from you, I've never met anyone who enjoyed drinking mud. Of course I don't like it, are you mad?” Dave asked, exasperated by this point. Ambrose HAD to be pulling his leg now, there was just no other way.

“It's chocolate. Have you really never had chocolate before?” the mage realized, startled. It was such a common treat for him and so normal in his life that it was baffling to think that this would be a first. Not the rare riches and shiny goods from afar.. but a simple bit of chocolate. He rose to his feet and went to get the knife and block again, shaving a little but off and setting it near Dave's plate. “It's... well. It's a sweet treat. The mug is just melted chocolate mixed with milk, it's very nice.”

Dave frowned at the dark shavings like strange, papery wood, and at the mug cautiously. He made an uncertain sound but reached for his own mug to take a cautious sip, wondering if perhaps this would get the mage off his back. If it was disgusting then he could have his laugh and be over it, and Dave had enough bacon left to wash away the flavor with something he was damn well certain he liked.. and just in case this man who could make his entire kitchen come alive and dance over at top speed to stab him to death decided he was angry.

The sip paused and held for a moment, and soon gave way to a heady slurp once the sweet taste hit him and really sank in. Amazing.. Amazing! This was absolutely amazing, how had he never heard of this before!

“Oh, this is so good..!” Dave said before he could even think of a better way to say it, though he was so pleased he didn't care that Ambrose chuckled at him and rose from the table once more.

“I'll remember that you enjoy it, then, and I'll be sure to give you other chocolate treats in the future. I really enjoy fudge and cakes, or having it over toffee, myself,” the mage said as he walked to the counters and rustled around for a moment or two. Dave didn't look up from draining his mug of every last drop of the chocolatey drink till he heard a metallic clink on the tabletop, and even then he wished he hadn't looked at all.

The knife.

The fucking knife he'd stolen and taken with him out into the snow. Of course Ambrose had it, of course he'd found it at some point during or after he'd been dragged back here. The color drained from Dave's face till he looked ashen, bloodless and shaking as he tried to wet his lips cautiously. Why was his throat so dry now, he couldn't breathe, his chest was tight and the room was trying to spin sickly around him.

“I-. ...I was. That's...”

Shit. Shit, shitshitsHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT. It was over, it was all over, this was it. Ambrose had sweetened him up and lowered his guard and now it was time to go in for the kill, it was all over! Fate be damned, this was the end!

“You forgot this, by the way,” Ambrose said. “It didn't get rusty from just that bit of snow, but I'd be careful with it if I were you, you snagged one of my favorites for yourself. I've washed and sharpened it for you, and if you're very attached I can make a sheathe of some kind for you.” Dave cringed when the mage smiled, trying to make himself even smaller in his seat. “I'll leave it with you now, though, I didn't want it to get caught up in the dishes by mistake.”

He didn't sit again or linger, instead heading to the center of the kitchen and starting up a steady hum as he had while cooking, gesturing to the propped up tub till a scrub brush rose from the bottom dripping and dribbling soapy water in expectation for the dishes that began to dance and float closer to it. His own breakfast dishes, the bowl and utensils used to make the breakfast cakes, and any other remaining tidying that needed to happen.

“I have to be careful with this part.. Last time, I got lazy and a dish fell and broke in the middle, and now it keeps wanting to follow THAT loop instead of the correct one,” Ambrose said, clicking his tongue. “Dishes can be so frustrating, it almost makes me want to do them by hand again. ...Almost.”

Dave looked like he was either going to bolt or start crying, working himself up and down from a frenzy while staring at the knife and flicking glances up Ambrose's direction every few moments. He flinched again when the mage came closer, pouring himself another cup of tea and ignoring the shining knife perched on the tabletop entirely till Dave brought attention to it himself.

“..Why are you giving it back to me if you're so fond of it then?” Dave asked, trying his hardest to get his voice even and loud, get some of that pride back in there.

“Because this is the one you chose. Either Fate guided your hand for this as well, or you just managed to grab a special one, it's still the one you chose and I would prefer you keep it if you wish. Choices have a purpose, they're very important. ..Almost more important than Fate. Choices make all the difference in which strands of Fate we all follow. And you chose that knife.”

“What choices did I make to wind up HERE then?” Dave followed up, wondering if there would be any kind of insight. Anything that he could point to as a source of wrong. Even if he wound up just having to blame himself instead of anyone else, hating his own choices instead of some nebulous reach of Fate that he had been raised to believe in so thoroughly, it would at least let him know once and for all.

“I wish I knew, but whichever choices you made that Fate interacted with, I'm more thankful than I can put into words,” Ambrose said as he took a sip of his tea, looking to make sure the dishes were washing and drying properly instead of trying to drop in the center and break themselves.

Dave stares once more, looking suspicious. “..You're thankful? Why be so thankful, wouldn't you have rather had someone dropped on your lap who already loved you unconditionally?”

“I take it you have no idea how long I've been going to the matchmaker before finally getting you as a match? To give you a hint: it's been a long time. A long. Long time. With constant reassurances that when Fate decided, Fate would choose well for me. All that time waiting, I already knew I wouldn't wind up with someone who'd been waiting with bated breath to wed me.. There is no easy guarantee with things of this matter unless you knew each other to begin with, and even if we had, I want differently.”

“Differently?”

“I want to woo you, Dave. I want to make you happy, I want to be the kind of husband you'd fantasized about as you grew up so this home is a better one than it is now. ...Isn't that what any good man is supposed to do?” he asked with an amused grin.

“..Fate didn't choose so much as say one thing then plug its ears and sing aloud,” Dave said. “It chose you with the first roll then refused to budge in any other direction. It was almost scary to see it, and the matchmaker had never seen anything like it before. Why is Fate so sure I need to be here right this very second, wed to you? That's abnormal.” He took a breath. “Are you certain you didn't try to tamper with the readings?”

“Dave, you're an attractive fellow, but how would I have manipulated anything? Especially having never met you before myself, there was no reason to pick you myself: Fate decided you were a perfect match at precisely this time. This is not my doing, but I will happily reap the wonderful benefits and see what I can do to make you feel just as satisfied or more.”

The mage set his cup down and rested his hand on the tabletop before leaning, sliding the knife along the tabletop towards Dave.

“So. Take the knife you've chosen, and get dressed. We'll figure out some kind of sheath later on, but please do not leave it in the snow somewhere,” Ambrose urged. “..You're free to wear your nightshirt all day if you'd prefer, but you may feel warmer for getting more cloth on you than just a scant nightshirt. It's a rather lovely sight to behold either way.”

Dave's cheeks caught flame once more and he lifted his brows up before glancing down to his nightshirt and tugging the neck outward in consideration.

“Do you still feel ill?” Ambrose asked at Dave's red face before he went to halt the cleaning dance safely, everything once more sliding into place with soft clinks and thumps. “You're red as a beet again. Do you need help? If you're still feeling tired, or light heade-”

“I can do it myself,” Dave said swiftly, sitting ramrod straight all at once. He reached for the knife and pushed his chair away from the table with a loud squeak from the wood before rising and darting away towards his room. The light caught him just right, filtering through the fabric of the nightshirt, outlining the edges of his body perfectly as he ran forward, giving Ambrose a firm reminder of just what lovely secrets rested below that expanse of fabric.

He glanced down at his tea again, and cleared his throat, stifling growing thoughts in his mind before they could run too rampant away from him. ..Perhaps he'd need a stiff drink before the day even hit noon, at this rate.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The day was spent showing Dave around his new home, the weather outside turning nasty enough to darken the halls before Ambrose lit candles and summoned up a soft amber light that followed them all around to fight against the gloom. Some of the sights were practical: two separate spots to relieve himself, general storage areas and a spare room of nothing but shelf space and nails to hang things from along a wall, the bath from before and where the water was at. Everything was tinged with a casual luxury from the materials and the construction, fancy enough that Dave felt rough even looking at them too long. This was too unfamiliar still, like stumbling into some noble's home in his underpants, nothing like what he expected his own home to ever feel like.

When they began to open the many doors in the hall, Ambrose wasn't sure how quickly he should shuffle his new spouse through. The first was a library, expansive and far deeper and taller than the room should have been on its own, in a way that Dave couldn't explain. He was pretty damned sure he'd recognize this room from the outside of the house even in passing from the windows speckled with decorations in stained glass, let alone the vaulted ceilings with their many colorful lanterns. That wasn't something you could be that stealthy with.

There were more books in this room than he'd seen in his entire life. Some were gigantic, big as his torso and resting atop tables for convenience, others were small enough to fit in his palm. Ambrose informed him that if he ever found a book that caught his fancy but that he either couldn't read properly or if it was in an entirely different language, that he could assist him in any way with it. The entire library was his to do as he pleased with, as were the cozy nooks and couches laying around to rest upon and relax in.

The next room seemed to be something that the mage was hesitant about, putting it off for a moment before finally opening the door wide to let Dave in first.

“I do some work in here occasionally, and I will understand entirely if you want to skip this place. It's not.. exactly something that everyone enjoys,” he warned.

Aside from vials and what looked like a fairly elaborate brewing setup against a wall, there was shelf upon shelf of jars and bottles and boxes and open platters, all containing different sizes and shapes of specimens. Bones, powders, oils and vinegars, whole dried creatures, pickled snakes in sealed jars with their mouths open and fangs extended. A piglet with a second head was floating serenely in a large glass container with a solid lid atop it, while beside it sat an articulated skeleton of a cat.

“It's gruesome, but they're important to my work,” Ambrose tried to explain, only to pause when he realized that Dave was staring not in disgust, but fascination. Dave wasn't just intrigued, his small husband was enthralled and going closer to examine the items up close, touching the jars and boxes and trays, and running a gentle finger along exposed bones in bowls or models stuck in their wire riggings.

“..Wow.. I've seen some things similar to this before, but I never even thought of these other ways of keeping things around,” he admitted, and Ambrose felt a distinct pang of pride. Note to self: give Dave free range of this room as well, see if he wanted his own room for preserving specimens, and teach his alternative methods of doing this thing himself.

Dave enjoyed the tour and was starting to happily build up an internal map of this labyrinth of a house, but one question still remained unanswered.

“You've shown me everywhere else more or less, right? Can I see your room now?”

“... You don't need to see my room, Dave,” the mage said softly but firmly. “If you need me in the night, you just need to come down this hall from your room and knock on the door. Or, even, knock on the wall nearest to your room and I'll come to you.”

“Okay, that's nice, but. Why can't I see it? You showed me all these other places.. What, is it embarrassing?” he asked. “Or.. ...Do you secretly have people tied up in there? Are you waiting till I'm fed up enough to lure me in there an-!”

“Dave, for the last damned time, I have no interest in fattening you up and eating you, that is a STORY and not a very cleverly told one at that!” Ambrose snapped, clearing his throat when he realized Dave had taken a step back from him and pulled the suspicious look back onto his face once more. Great. He'd just set everything back even further again. “Look. I've been waiting for Fate to deliver me someone to love, and you are that person, and I am going to cherish you whether you believe me entirely or not. I have nothing to gain from that, but I need you to believe me when I say that the only reason I'm not letting you into my room is because there is nothing for you in there. You have free reign of the entire house, but that room is mine until the day comes when I say otherwise.”

After all the sweetness and endless patience, the playful words, suddenly having Ambrose be deathly serious and intense was a shock. Dave weighed his words for a moment before looking down the hallway, frowning at the bare wall. He lifted a hand up and pointed, wanting confirmation to a problem he'd just realized.

“..So. You want me to knock on your door.”

“Yes, knock on my door or any wall.”

“That's a wall with a door drawn onto it,” Dave insisted.

“It's still a door, Dave, you were awake when I brought you home. Not all of my doors need to be solid.”

“...So wouldn't I wind up seeing your room anyway if I came knocking?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Ambrose said, smirking when Dave frowned, not liking the answer at all. “If you do then it's time to see it, but most likely it is not.”

Damn it. Blocked into a box. Dave racked his mind, curiosity demanding to be sated, before he sprung on the first idea that seemed compelling enough.

“We're married now, right? So.. Shouldn't I be seeing your room up close anyway soon? ..What. It some big magical secret?”

Ambrose was quiet, jaw tense from frustration and from the effort it was taking to clear his mind of the immediate wandering it was doing, picturing Dave in his bed at least twelve different ways in the same span of breath. Fate hadn't just picked him out a perfect match, it had selected someone to absolutely test his patience.

Perfect.

“Yes. A big magical secret that you're completely unable to make use of at this time,” he finally said, trying to sound very final and firm in what he was saying, not wanting to give any chance to be bargained with.

"..... Fine. Show me some other magic things that I CAN see now, then,” Dave immediately bargained, hoping to make at least a little bit of headway against the brick wall he was married to.

"Was the breakfast routine not enough magic, then? Or the light from the tour? Would you like card tricks? Juggling?"

"You can juggle?" Interest sparked in Dave's eyes and he grinned a bit.

Ambrose seized on it immediately. "Of course. It's easy, actually. I can show you-"

"Mn, no thank you. I was just surprised, is all. Besides, that's not magic."

"Alright." Ambrose would bite. "What IS magic to you then, Dave? What counts as magic in your eyes,” he asked. “I'll know what to show you then."

"Magic is.." Shit, how could he explain magic to a mage of all people, it felt distinctly out of place, and he can just tell from that shit eating grin that Ambrose is waiting for him to fuck up. Maybe this was a total setup just to make fun of him. "It's..."

Though he'd expected some kind of strange answer or even something exceeding naive based on how startled Dave had been appearing to exposure to magic in general, Ambrose is a bit surprised by the answer his spouse chose. ..But then again, even unexpected, it's the answer that just keeps assuring him fate that chose correctly for him.

"It's a feeling. I can't really explain it. Like.. Seeing it makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck, or.. or you feel it in your stomach, and it's impossible to fake. You don't get that with card tricks and juggling," Dave said as he moved his hands, trying to expand on something that wasn't quite physical and wasn't quite mental.

Well. You CAN, but Ambrose doesn't want to correct him, not with this.

"You've seen a lot of magic then, Dave?"

"No," he said. "Not much at all, obviously. But it's definitely a feeling for me. So if you're gonna show me magic, show me real magic. Or show me your room."

Showy magic isn't usually done in Ambrose's home when he's unprepared, and while he felt he should have foreseen this as a potential now that he was living together with Dave, he hadn't. Twice a nitwit. He had to pause and think for a long, stretching minute before he could come up with a piece of magic that wouldn't try to drain either one of them with wild abandon.

"Lesson one," Ambrose said, raising his hand more dramatically than he had earlier during their walk through, "is that magic is inherently dangerous. Useful, but dangerous. Got that?"

Dave nodded quickly. He doesn't entirely get it, but then again Ambrose didn't either when he first started. Dangerous like a knife? Like a horse? Like a forest fire? It never really sunk in till it was far too late and you'd already made your first big mistake that you can't undo.

For now, something gentle and easy that won't anger the forces that be should be good. Ambrose let that feeling, that weight, sink into his stomach. It weighed his heels down, and in a breath or two, light began to gather in his palm, a ball that illuminated the dust motes of the hallway as they danced through space. It was different from earlier, warmer, and even Dave could tell that it felt more alive. Denser. Brighter.

“I did this earlier, but it's far easier to gather a single grain of light and let it shine than to gather light the size of my fist and contain it enough to be safe. If this went loose, it could easily kill you, and potentially even myself if I were being that careless.”

The suspicion left Dave's face entirely as he stared, and the hands raising to rest against his abdomen seemed to point towards him feeling the pull of the power at work. Fake magic? No, no that wasn't fake magic or an illusion, wasn't a party trick. This was the real deal.

“Holy shit..”

“I take it you can feel it, then,” Ambrose said, voice low to avoid breaking the sensation in the air.

“Yes,” Dave said, eyes locked on the light but dragging away at last to look at the mage's face, taking in the faint glow of his eyes.

"You're right about that feeling. I'm surprised you could recognize it so easy, actually. A lot of people see card tricks and juggling as -always- real magic, not just sometimes. They don't feel that tug at all." Fate hadn't just given him a perfect match, it had delivered him a magic sensitive perfect match. Perhaps there could be even more here.. “Can you sense the heat coming off from it?”

"Yeah," Dave murmured absently, looking back to the light. He lifted a hand and reached his arm out as if caught in a daydream. "It's like a pull..." He put out his fingers to touch, reaching for the sphere.

Almost immediately, Ambrose released his hold on the magic and set it free. The light scattered, returning to its normal path out of view, leaving them in the lower light of candles and lanterns. He closed his fist over the heat in his hand and stared at it pensively. There's nothing he can do about that; it just had to cool naturally. "Ah-ah, don't touch. Don't touch big magic if you didn't help create it. Consider that your first lesson in magic, and your first lesson on living here. If you feel that pull strongly, don't touch."

Dave's face closed down into a sulk. "Why not?"

"Because you didn't put anything in to keep it going or to come about. If you touch it... well. It will change," he said simply. "There would suddenly be more than is needed and the more would need to manifest."

"Change as in how? Shape? Manifest what?" Dave immediately asked, confused but absorbing the new information like a sponge. It was charming, really.. Ambrose wondered if this was what it was like to have an apprentice preparing to do their journey.

"Potentially, it could do a lot of things, not all of which are bad, but all of which are unpredictable if untrained. You could feel the pull, Dave, there may be power in you. If it reached that, and you know nothing of how to control it, a simple light could take out half this house. Could take your arm. Could leave ruin in its wake. Magic does wonders when it can be controlled and bargained with, when you can control yourself. But magic adores an inexperienced fool, Dave."

.. Potentially. Really, he didn't want to terrify him, but putting a brief fear into him would be better than Dave doing something risky and stupid in the future without thinking. Put caution into him now, save a disaster later.

He can tell Dave is struggling with believing him or not. The light was proof enough, Ambrose can do these sorts of things that, for some reason, the kitchen earlier couldn't prove properly. Not to mention as well that he's hinting heavily there could be further lessons in the ways of magic. He could practically smell Dave's curiosity rising, and judging by the way he still had his hand pressed to his body as if to hold himself together, it wasn't going to dissipate anytime soon.

"..Ambrose. Which way was the library again?" Dave asked, far too casually.

Dave was many things, but he was the exact opposite of sneaky, and it held its own charm. Alright. He'd bite. Ambrose wasn't careless enough of a man to leave dangerous books in the main library; the more potent ones were in his room, or tucked away and hidden in his workshop. But he nodded all the same, and found himself curious to see what Dave would get into on his own. Where would that desire to chase the pull of magic take him? "Would you like to go back there now?"

"It's warmer there than the hallways," Dave said, as if anyone needed an explanation or excuse. His eyes are practically glowing with interest now, and Ambrose could swear it was almost as much as the light had shone earlier in his own hand. "And I like to read. Usually I was too busy to do it much, and we only had six books. I read them cover to cover a few times already, and it was hard to convince others to lend me any. Books weren't really high on anyone's list when they got things from other villages or if anyone from cities came through."

"Six is a lot. Especially in a village like yours," Ambrose commented. “..Actually, the fact you can read is wonderful in itself, good on you and your family. You can write as well then, yes?”

"Yeah, but you have more. And.. yes, but it's hen scratch, I can't figure out how to make it clear.,” Dave said with a soft, pensive hum. “But, the library. It's this way, right?" Dave asked as he lowered his hands and stepped away on his own, almost trotting down the hallway towards the library. Well. So much for needing directions back there.

Ambrose blinked as Dave took off, and watched as his blonde head disappeared around a corner before following after him, wanting to give him space. Well, at least Dave apparently felt more at home already, and there were no signs of the previous night's fever sparking back up. He foresaw magic lessons in his future, and wondered briefly if he was up to the task of handling a quick learner firmly enough to instill the lessons, but gently enough to still show love and affection.

Lessons were for later, though. Right now, he needed to keep Dave from singeing off his eyebrows with the contents of whatever book he wound up gravitating towards. Maybe he would luck out and Dave would pick something tame to throw his budding interest at.

#homestuck #my fic #brodave #stridercest #even if they're unrelated the tag has to be there #Dave Strider #Bro Strider

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