#if I lose words by posting this idk how to solve that blame the app

[wiria-lae]

Post-Exam Discussion

The construction of magic is as important as its conception.

Notes:

This is a conversation between RSA OCs Cobalt and Maka. Cobalt is based on the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland, with Maka inspired by Gaia from Greek mythology.

There are mentions of alcohol and drinking. The characters are of age (legal drinking age in this world is based on British drinking laws).

"Never gettin' outta the streets," She says. She's holding a bottle of something that smells vaguely like liquor and looks like piss, but Cobalt knows if it really was alcoholic then she'd at least share.

"Mm. You'll be fine." Cobalt settles on those words, rather than saying: you've lived on those streets your whole life, nothing is going to change.

"Ain't gonna make it out." Maka takes another sip (what is it, seriously, she's drinking so much of it) and groans. "Nah. Should've guessed on the exam. Would've gotten a higher score than this bull."

On the table are Maka's finals: unsurprisingly all sub-80, with a glaring exception in the written portion of the practical magic exam, sitting at a score of 23.

"Try studying next time." Cobalt points at the outlier. "You know this. I know you know this. You should've gotten higher marks."

The thing is, Cobalt thinks, as he glances at Maka taking another swing at her drink - the thing is, it's true. Plain and simple. Maka should've done better. Maka could've done better. But Maka didn't do better.

It's no secret that Maka is incredibly gifted with magic, as if Twisted Wonderland breathes it into her despite her being 100% human. All magic comes easy to her to the point of boredom. In turn, Maka passes all practical exams with flying colors, and fails to understand the function behind application. For Maka, the means to the end are waived.

"Wha's even the point," she slurs, slamming down the bottle, "my magic reserves are broken. My stamina's brutal." Said bottle is almost empty by now, and dangerously close to her waving arms.

"I," Maka declares, elbow barely missing the bottle as she points aggressively at the offending paper, "can do so fucking much. Practical magic theorems are stupid. I can do the damn magic. I don't need this."

"There is nothing that is impossible between Heaven and Earth," Cobalt quotes, "but that doesn't mean we're boundless on the borders."

Maka stares wordlessly. Cobalt sighs. "Learn the theorems," he says. "Even if it's stuff that comes intuitively to you, there's still value in understanding why the magic works."

"I know it works, smartass," she says. "That's good enough."

"But you don't know how or why," Cobalt replies, "so you won't be able to guarantee when it won't."

"You sound like Sir Edmund," Maka rolls her eyes. "It's fine, seriously. That's what we're friends for. You'll keep me in check."

Cobalt says nothing as she stretches, standing, then waving, and making her way out the door. "Doesn't matter. I'm done complaining. You can tell my teachers that I heard you out, I might even try some more in class when I show up, or whatever, I don't care. I'm gonna take a nap."

Cobalt rises, beginning to say "At least take back your exams-" but by then, the sound of Maka's heels clicking against the floor takes his willpower to chase after her away. He sits with a sigh.

Cleaning up the table isn't hard - he shoves everything in a folder, organizing based on Maka's class schedule. The cap for the mystery drink is nowhere to be found, so Cobalt takes a sniff before shrugging and finishing off the rest of the mysterious liquid. Apple cider, he thinks, before a slight, pleasant heat follows down behind his throat. Hm. It's mixed with something.

Mental note for the future: get Maka to share next time.