Peter Octavian

It was fairly quiet out here in the preserve; the odd animals seemed uninterested in Peter, which was fine with him. He wasn't out here to animal-watch.

It had gotten oppressive in his apartment, the walls seeming to press on him along with the memories. He still needed to do more, though. The magic was coming back to him, and he needed to remember more.

The air crackled slightly around him as he sank to his knees and took a deep breath. He cupped his hands together, channeling the excess energy into a ball, then pushing it away to dissipate in the air. He took another breath and sank back into the memories of Hell, searching for what he needed. From the outside, it might look like meditation, if you ignored the expression on his face.



[Expecting one!]

Unexpected owner of a flower shop or not, Peter still had a life to get back to in his own world. And since, as Sparkle had said, Portalocity couldn't get him home, that meant finding his own way.

Which meant magic. He knew magic, could feel it humming through him and sparking in the air around him, but the methods of using it...those were distant and fuzzy, twined with the memories of Hell. He was just as happy to let those go, but calling up one meant recalling the other.

So he sat in the middle of his still mostly empty living room and sank into a meditative trance, slowly calling up and filing away memories. There were a lot of them, and most were far from pleasant. But each one held a bit of magic, a bit of control, a bit of experience that he might need.

Occasionally one of his hands would twitch or curl into a shape, and a faint glow of one color or another would form and dissipate. Otherwise, he sat still, eyes closed, not even breathing.


[Post is open if anyone wants to knock or call! Anyone sensitive to magic might sense something going on.]