(closed)

[deceitful]

who: Peter and Margo
what: Meet cute, round two
when: Now
where: Gramarye Magic Research
warnings: n/a



[ Technically, magic isn't Peter's forte. He's supernatural, sure, and while he's inherently magical, he can't perform it in the strictest sense. But what people seldom seem to realise is that magic is so much more than Harry Potter— waving a wand, saying an incantation, the whole shebang.

There's magic in ritual. Power in seasons, in the turn of the earth. Knowing random pieces of esoteric knowledge like that was how he brought himself back to life.

Curiosity is what brings him here to the research institute. Riverview has its similarities with its own world, but also its differences. Magic might be one of them, and where better to get an idea of that than here? (Plus, he's been sitting idle for a while now. Bored.)

So he walks into Gramarye Magic Research, and quite literally runs into Margo. ]

Comments

[ibiza]

[ It’s not every day that Margo gets to show off. She smiles as she holds out her palm for Peter to inspect. ]

The spell is meaningless if you don’t will it to work. The big stuff takes a lot out of you. Anything beyond your ability or even close to it is actually quite dangerous to perform.

[ Once he’s done looking at her hand, she withdraws it and lets it fall to her side. Her eyebrows wrinkle with interest as he mentions druids. Her classes at Brakebills mentioned druidic magic, but never really delved into the topic. Natural magic, however, is very familiar to Margo. It’s one of the disciplines taught at her school, but of course it isn’t the one Margo specializes in. ]

Druids, huh? So, Celtic in origin?

[ She smiles a little bit, leaning a little closer. ]

What’s your interest in magic about?

[deceitful]

Celtic, yes.

[ The Celts took root in Beacon Hills generations ago. Whether or not one of them had brought the Nemeton across the ocean with them, a tiny seed hidden and cared for for the duration of that long journey, or if they had come because of the call of the tree— that's a distinction lost to the annals of time. They're an irritating and secretive lot.

He returns Margo's palm to her, tucking his own hands into his pockets. Fire isn't something he cares much to play with. Literal flames, that is. Figurative ones? He's all for it.

But not at the moment. His interest veers towards the academia rather than the practical, and he makes a considering noise. ]

It's useful. [ Even if he can't use it directly. ] Have you always known you're capable of magic?