Baby Steps

[Rosco Agassi]

Weeks before the killing of Wan-Shi or Rogar, Merric had walked Rosco to each of the circles, talking about how each linked to another to form essence. Fire was the last on their list, and Rosco could see the reluctance in his eyes as he realized what that meant.

“We don't have to—” Merric started. Rosco cut him off with a shake of his head.

“No. Let's go.”

Rosco sat ten feet from the circle as he thought about the prime magics. He focused more on the essence mana in his hands than the circle itself, but if you asked him he would swear he could feel the heat radiating all the way through the tree line.

Week One (Oog: First week after October game)
Rosco sat eight feet from the fire circle. He watched the magic move fluidly, completely entranced in the way the warmth seemed to lap at the edges. He stayed like this for almost an hour - listening to his breathing, steadying himself on the earth underneath. As panic rose, he would push it down again. Staring. Shaking. Thinking.

“I don't use fire magic to hurt.” Corin’s voice rang in his head. Rosco tried to imagine the magic as the flames of a forge, heating metal to create it into something beautiful. “Even when I engulf my hands it doesn't hurt…it's just warm.”

When the panic became too much to bear Rosco stood up, cutting a wide perimeter to head to the faerie ring and then back to the inn.

Baby steps.

Week Two
Rosco sat six feet from the fire circle. Determined to do this by himself, he remained grounded by gently playing with a mitten. The bell chimed softly with each flip, only slightly louder than the crackle he swore he could hear from a distance.

“I knew Kez would never hurt me.”  It was Gull he thought about this time, though the phrases were interspersed by memories of a roaring house fire. “I went on that trip with him because I knew he wouldn't leave me to go find some more kickstart. He wanted me to be safe.”

Rosco could feel the burning spread up his arm and the stench of cauterized flesh overpowered everything else. He didn't last as long this time, by minute thirty he was eager to go crawl into his bunk, begging for the protection of Dog.

Baby steps.

Week Three
Rosco sat four feet from the fire circle, and this time the panic was harder to stifle. He could barely stop the tears, nevermind see the circle through them as he sucked in desperate breaths.

“Why do I like fire magic?” Kez’s voice was inquisitive, then passionate as he spoke. Rosco couldn't remember what he had said. To him, the faun’s face melted and morphed in his memory into a devilish halfling grin. Fire flickered in front of his eyes as his father cast a spell, igniting an oil lamp with a simple incant. He held it close enough that Rosco could feel the heat radiate, leaving Rosco to linger in his terror for a beat before pulling away with a laugh.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, tears turning to sobs turning to hyperventilating as he struggled to grip back on to reality. He learned four feet was too close, some memories were too loud, and he wondered if he could even keep doing this.

Baby steps.