When I was driving yesterday, I saw that Royale’s trunk had appeared in the backseat of my new car. Like magic. This more than anything else has made me feel better. Maybe it means he’s still alive. Maybe it means even if he’s dead he’s still with me somehow. Magic is real, why not spirits?
Crying and feeling sorry for myself doesn’t do any damn good. If there are people out there like the Asian girl who are using magic to hurt people, what can I do about it? Get better. What magic do I know? Maybe keep my car running. Heal minor injuries. Create a very realistic doll of myself. Find missing stuff with varying degrees of accuracy. That’s not much for a year’s practice.
I realize I’ve been waiting for someone to come and help me. To teach me. No one is coming. I need to start figuring this out on my own. If you sit on the sidelines and whine you’re no better than the people doing the bad shit. Practicing magic without knowing what you’re doing is risky, but if other people are willing to take that risk I have to be as well. There’s no way around it.
I used the last of my money to get a motel room and I tried to move stuff. She seemed immensely powerful because of how easily she could move things at distance but maybe it’s not as hard as it seems. After about twenty-five minutes I could make an empty water bottle move slightly. It’s a start.
When I first met Royale I asked him about moving stuff with magic. He said “why would you want to? You have arms.” Some of his ideas about magic were old fashioned I think now. These are savage times. Subtlety has had its day maybe.
If I ever meet her again, or run into Eterno, or someone like them, I need to be as ready as I can be.
Rocket Cat 