Hero & Witch Pt. 04: Mind and Magic

"First of all, I didn't barge in here. You let me in," Scryer said with confidence, letting her immobile host digest the implication and filling her own thoughts with unanswered questions and disbelief.

"Second, I only took what deep down, wanted to be taken. And third, my intentions with him are none of your business, but I can understand your concern for his safety, so I have no problem informing you that not only will I not be harming a hair on his head, he's more or less under my protection."

"Protection from what? Tricker-treaters?"

"That and jealous women who seem to see love triangles where there are none."

"There is no goddamn love triangle here."

"Of that, we're in total agreement. There's Striker and I, but I don't really see a Striker and you. And as my name implies, I'm pretty good at seeing these kind of things."

"You see relationships that could be, but obviously not mirrors," Psiana fired back.

"I'm...confused. Is that you referring to me as a vampire, or another attempted insult toward a classic look?"

"Meaning you flew over here on a broomstick?"

"It wasn't up my ass like your thoughts of me display with juvenile glee."

Psiana smirked as she tried pushing the thought outward into Scryer's mind for a better mental picture. The witch just shook her head as if dealing with an immature adolescent.

"Ok psychic, I know this comes down to you having a problem with me overall. I've stated my case as plainly as I could, and don't wish to drag this on for long, so I have a proposal - if you really want to move, you'll shake my hand. Your arm is allowed to move in order to do that. But if you shake my hand, you're also agreeing to leaving Striker be, or at least understanding that trying to separate me and him is out of the question."

Scryer extended her hand to be shaken, Psiana stared at her like she was just offered a deal from the devil.

"If I don't shake it, I'm just going to be frozen this way, until I collapse from exhaustion, or starve to death?"

"Nothing so dramatic; but I can promise you that choosing unwisely means that things will only go downhill for you."

Psiana tried to force her way out of the spell, but it held her as firmly as the second it took her, only serving to an amused Scryer who still held her hand out. Her options were limited as she knew them, from either accepting her offer to letting the witch hold out her hand until it fell off, out of spite. In the end, she took a long breath of resignation, and felt herself moving, her body knowing she intended to shake her hand. She walked up to Scryer and shook her daintier hand.

"No deal."

Psiana gripped it tightly with her stronger hand. Scryer winced, then frowned as she snapped her fingers and literally disappeared before Psiana's eyes. Still able to move her body, she brought her hands to her temples and focused every last ounce of her energies to her psychic shields, trying to create a special mental force field that no one had penetrated yet, even another high-level magical practitioner she knew.

"I see you like to do things the hard way," Scryer told her from somewhere in the room.

"And I see you like to put on a good show, witch. You wouldn't be doing all this if you thought I wasn't some sort of threat to whatever plans you have. I know a good scare tactic when I see one, and you almost gave one tonight."

"Better than any I can imagine you trying to make, with the exception of some of the men you end relationships with. You can be quite cold at the end of them. A woman like me would hopefully, eventually come along for Striker's sake to help pick up the pieces in the wake of your mess."

"You know what, maybe you're just stalling at this point. Trying to figure out a way to deal with me now. I'm ashamed of myself in how long it's taken me to remember a few tricks and pointers about magic that I've been taught. Pretty sneaky, with the way magic like yours can work, but unfortunately for you, there are ways around it."

"In the same way that there are ways around psychic shields, no doubt. And what do you know of magic, really? I'd swear your instructors were magicians for kid's birthday parties. It's much more than slight-of-hand, as I've already demonstrated."

"So you say. And good luck with 'getting around' my barriers. After your disappearing trick, you should've left my apartment for good. There's a barrier around the entire place, meaning no escape and that it's only a matter of time before I get to you. From there, pray that I'm merciful."

"It's interesting to see a heroine behind closed doors. The standard differs greatly from what the public expects. And I'm here because I choose to remain; what do I have to fear when whomever showed you magic intentionally left some key details out, or at best rates as some sort of under-achiever. Psychic powers have occasionally beaten mages and witches, if said mages and witches lack creativity."

A finger snap sounded nearby, and Psiana opened her eyes to see a huge pink elephant standing in-front of her. The sight shocked her into almost backing into the coffee table in the center of the room. She felt a touch on her scalp, the feeling of a whole hand covering it. Quickly she brought her hands back up to concentrate on her shields.

"It's really best if you don't ignore the elephant in the room Psiana," the witch chuckled from an unknown position. "You can be gotten to; we don't have to continue like this."

"I guess it would be some cheap illusion rather than you that will try to bring me down."

"If it's me you want to see..."

*Snap*

"All you have to do is ask," Scryer spoke, just a foot away from her face. Psiana opened her eyes and tried to focus on where the witch stood, to incapacitate her.

*Snap*

Scryer disappeared again before she could be reached. "That was close," the witch told her standing against the wall several feet behind her.

Psiana's energies diverted to behind her, but Scryer snapped to escape and re-appear in-front of her again.

"That was closer."

*Snap*

She was close enough that Psiana reached out with one hand to grip the witch's shoulder.

*Snap*

"Not so close," Psiana heard from behind her.

*Snap*

"Are telepathic powers usually this slow?"

Instead of trying to pinpoint her location, Psiana tried to create outward, mental walls in the room, hoping to block the path she thought Scryer was using to phase or teleport herself. The witch was unaffected as she effortlessly snapped and reappeared at will. 'Expect the unexpected' took a temporary backseat to trying to comprehend the impossibility of passing through the walls like they weren't even there.

"I'm sensing that you're not enjoying this back and forth," she taunted.

"Is that one of your powers, terrible quips?"

"I rather liked that one, but maybe you'll appreciate this little trick."

Scryer folded her arms diagonally across her chest and snapped with both hands.

Now Psiana was faced with about 11 or 12 clones of her opponent. All of them moved and sounded independent of each other. Worse for Psiana, they all surrounded her now. The one closest to a chair sat down in it, continuing to toy with the heroine.

"Don't tell me, you're trying to figure out which one of us is the real Scryer. Here's a little hint: the real one is wearing the pointy hat."

Every clone began to giggle or chuckle of her own volition.

However, this didn't faze Psiana much as she inhaled a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to focus as deeply as she could. Instead of focusing on the one sitting down, she spread her power out throughout the whole room, trying to dissolve all the clones and the mind of the original. All of the clones save for the one directly to her left had disappeared. The real Scryer brought her hands up in defense of Psiana aiming an outstretched arm in her direction, trying to push back the telepathic assault.

"Very clever my dear. You are smarter than you look."

"We'll see how smart you are when I get a hold of your mind. It's only a matter of time before that happens, too."

"Don't worry Psiana, I've Hexpected that this may happen."

"Did you seriously just intentionally missp...sp..." Psiana tried to say, but she was distracted as a feeling caught her attention. She couldn't readily identify what it was, so she brought herself back to facing Scryer.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't miss my spell. I wonder if you've noticed its intended effect."

"You misspoke that word on purpose. Your spell was obviously meant to assault my ears with more wizardly nonsense."

"A less than Hexcellent deduction; wizards pertain to men, and aren't often as gifted as women. But if you haven't figured it out yet, it's a key word that weakens. A harmless little enchanted word, spoken through my voice, that hangs in the air and will latch onto anything significant in the immediate area, or a target of my choosing. Right about now, the word has descended on your precious shielding, coating it, dampening the force of the field. It works wonders with a variety of matter. Sometimes technology, natural elements, psychic powers, other magical powers, even something as basic as willpower. No matter what it touches, its meaning becomes quite literal in effect. And every time I use it, your defense begins to fade little by little. Maybe you're body and mind will also respond."

"You seriously mean..."

"Hexactly," Scryer finished.

Psiana winced at the modified wording, able to confirm that it was subverting the foundation she created in the room. Her uninvited guest watched with great pleasure as the heroine became more and more affected by the most annoying wordplay that Psiana ever had the displeasure of listening to. It was really more what it did than the word itself, but Scryer smugly, casually weaponizing the word made her want to reach out and throw her to the ground by her red hair. But that would require moving, and a tingle that suddenly ran down her spine told her it would have to be a last resort. All the effort and concentration it took to bolster and compensate for the weakening barrage to come meant she was staying still.

"Listen, I know this is a very new Hexperience you're going through. Tonight, you've found some magic that Hexceeds your Hexpectations, and I'm sure that must be a shock to the system. Tonight, maybe you shouldn't take this as 'good girl losing to bad girl,' nothing like that. This is more like an impromptu lesson, showing you that you have much to learn, not only of magical forces, but yourself. You have not been shown anything truly impressive, nothing Hextravagant. Nothing you wouldn't be able to combat easier if you put more time into your own craft."

"As for Striker, I think I've proved my point well enough there. It should have been the two of us coming to a rational agreement, like reasonable adults always can. I can see how my words are a little Hextra on top of what is already a Hexemplary Hexample of what happens to those you might argue about and or interfere with affairs that are not theirs. It really is a shame that it has come to Hexessive claims of parlor tricks and Hexacerbated psychic shields and psychics instead of understanding, discussion, the Hexpressing of congratulations of a budding relationship, Hexcetera, Hexcetera..."

Psiana's head was on the verge of hurting. She couldn't support the effort anymore for shields being eaten away at by Scryer's words.

"This is all wrong," she thought. "Magic shouldn't be this potent, but just that word is demolishing everything I've put up."

From the barrier supposedly keeping the witch trapped in her apartment to her own personal protective mental shell, it was all coming down. The tingle that Psiana felt in her body also grew stronger, though not nearly as accelerated as the rest. Psiana was tired, but still had enough fight in her for one last gambit, and prepared herself to use it.

Scryer smiled as she watched the effects of her wording, until she saw her opponent open her eyes and give a very determined look. Instead of speaking more weakening words, she curiously waited to see what the blond telepath would do in retaliation. After shutting her eyes quickly, Psiana threw her arms out to her sides, shattering her own shields and Scyer's 'Hex' effect completely, exposing herself fully, but following up with an offensive move.

Psiana aimed her arm quickly at Scryer, focusing on piercing the witch's mind. She was quite sure that this wasn't a clone, and left the witch no time to react as the red-head seemed carelessly content to watch what she was going to do. It seemed less careless as Psiana realized Scryer aimed an arm in her direction too, just half a second slower. Had anyone been in the room to witness, they would see two women holding arms out at each other like gunfighters, waiting to see who would pull the trigger first.

"You knew..?" Psiana

"I guessed," Scryer admitted. "And I guess I'm not the only one who enjoys showdowns like these."

For the first time that night, it looked like witch was on the defensive this time. Her brow twitched, and there was a tinge of effort and maybe worry on her face, almost masked by her smile. The blond had found a thread and planned to pull it to see the other woman unravel.

"Feeling something interesting now, witch?" Psiana asked with mock-interest.

"Yes. Excitement."

Both women paused.

"And yes, I could have used that word to my advantage, but it's more thrilling to me when it's a fairer fight. The 'last stand' as they say, where only one leaves here standing."

"I think you're mistaken; it's more a matter of who's leaving, and what I allow you to leave here with."

Scryer blinked, as if trying to hide a wince, and Psiana gestured more firmly with her own arm, feeling she'd reached something of importance in her.

"I'd hate for you to have to leave your own apartment then," Scryer countered, moving her fingers as if to send a wave of invisible force across the room.

"No more talking," Psiana suggested, "I'm rather tired of hearing you talk, and so are you. You've spoken so much, it's time to rest those vocal cords. And lower your arm, honey. You're going to tire yourself quicker than you think. You look rather ridiculous that way anyway."

Scyrer breathed gently, watching the psychic press on her biggest advancing thus far, even though she knew she was searching blindly in her psyche for a weak point. After a deep breath and closing her eyes, Scryer refocused her herself and prepared to give better than she got.

"Holding your hands at your temples was very befitting a telepath; you look like you're trying to imitate a witch now, often known for extending their hands toward things they cast spells over. And why should I stop speaking when you react to my voice as if it was honey? Positively too sweet to say no to. And I like speaking; it's what witches do. We don't necessarily need to talk to make things happen, but there's some inherent bliss from watching people, things, even reality and the perception of bend to our words, and how we use them. The tiniest whisper released into the night creates the strongest ripple effect. Even you heroes that actually have some means of opposing magic and words, you eventually find yourself bound to the same words we weave. In your case, no matter how much you choose to disbelieve, your powers make you a prime candidate for my power."

Psiana's brows furrowed, some of her mental effort rerouting to figure out what she meant by that. Scryer was happy to explain.

"Concentration. The basis of your powers is to reach out with an extension of yourself, to have that extension find someone, examine them, understand them on a deeper, personal, intrusive level, and even make changes if possible. In our little stand-off, everything you're trying to do with me, maybe instead of giving your attention to me, you should try giving it to the magic itself. Concentrate on that. Think hard on how the magic can usurp all of your efforts, of what it can do, is doing to you without your knowledge. You think you know enough about magic to stop it, yet you've done little to prove that you've even scratched the surface. You even have trouble believing in the breadth magic still, despite everything you've been shown. Most likely you don't want to believe, and that's why you will fail. Every person I meet who concludes magic to be nothing more than parlor tricks, in each one I see something in their future where they are disproven, regrettably so, sometimes not even in my hand. I'll let you in on a little secret - magic can sometimes have a mind of its own. It will do little things to let you know that it exists, and will aid people who take it seriously. It believes in itself, I believe in it, and maybe your only hope is to start believing it to be formidable."

"Magic is all around us, and as it is my ally, even if I happen to fall to your power, magic will still assist me. Maybe it takes the role of a formless extension of myself, another clone that you can't see, but maybe feel, maybe even hear. Your powers of concentration become the means to which it affects you. Maybe she's there next to you right now, whispering in your ear, lightly touching your outstretched hand. Concentrate hard enough, and you'll feel a tingle travel up your arm, and the breath of a whisper on the side of your face. Can you hear that voice? It speaks in compelling whispers, as sweetly as I would. It would ask you to believe in magic, to realize its power, my power. It's so hard to fight magic itself and me as I talk to you. It's hard enough to keep that hand raised, as there are goosebumps on the surface of your arm from magic's touch, and the stronger tingle. That sensation is probably your arm telling you it is tired, and doesn't want to stay raised up any more. Does that whispered voice speak my words verbatim, or does it say different words that still assist me? Does it really matter for how intensely you listen?"

"And maybe you tell yourself you don't want to concentrate, to believe, but magic won't stop until it proves itself with your surrender. Your last chance is to give it your full concentration. Don't resist, all of your attention on magic. If you concentrate, you can access it, understand it, try to find some way to counter it before it's too late. Focus your concentration on everything Psiana. Every word I speak, every word magic speaks, search for the weakness in the way it touches your arm, coaxes it. There is vulnerability to find if you expose yourself to the meaning of the words you hear, or even the waving of my fingers, the light of the lamp glinting off my deep red nails. Such a draw to get lost in, which what you should be doing after all. Concentrate, focus deeply, find the weakness. It is there, I can feel it. You will too, soon enough."

"If it get too difficult to take in, if it all becomes too overwhelming, I would recommend narrowing your focus to one thing. Since it's closest to you, let it be my shiny red nails. Everything else can fade into the background; your concentration will properly sort out how to take everything in. Let your eyes rest into the motion of each nail. Follow to see if the pattern they weave is random, or if there is some rhythm to decipher. Something useful is there, you will find it. Just follow the nails, let them lead you to where you want to go."

Psiana had lost herself in the effort to do much but listen and follow. The phantom apparition standing behind her, whispering in her ear, touching her arm, was more or less the only thing keeping her up-right. Scryer submerged her mind in a convincing barrage of being riveted by every gesture and word, looking for the weakness that she failed to discover in herself. Scryer's long, enticing nails gestured further downward, more and more until the blond's neck craned downward, somehow missing what Scryer had in mind.