Chase Collins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bastardofipswich) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
pineslog2017-05-07 12:15 pm
bastardofipswich) wrote in pineslog2017-05-07 12:15 pm
is this what true power feels like?
Who: Chase Collins & OPEN
Where: School, around the town, home
When: May 7th - 14th
What: Things start getting a little ~WITCHY~
Warnings: Addiction (to magic as a stand-in for drugs, but. You know. Themes of addiction, all the same).
[Open]
It started as this little itch he felt at his fingertips-- not too bad at first. Intermittent and easy to ignore and write off as some kind of side effect of his 'accident.' But as the weeks passed, it grew and spread through his insides, this persistent, gnawing hunger for something indefinable.
And, since nothing he did would make it go away, he started to become restless, agitated, way more of a pill than usual. (Sorry, Sam.) He just wants to make it stop, but whatever it is his body (no, more than his body) wants, he can't figure it out.
It's a month since his accident-- four weeks of living with this growing hunger-- before something gives. It's during gym class, of all things. All he's doing is sitting at the top of the bleachers, shoulders hunched and arms hugging middle as he watches his classmates scurry around playing dodgeball. Being the exact opposite of a team player, it was easy to let himself get hit and sent out within moments of the game starting. The bleachers give him a great vantage point to watch everyone else run around like idiots and get smacked with balls.
But more than ever, there's that itch in his fingertips, and that hunger, and the desire to rip his skin open and step out of his body. His foot taps on the bleacher in an agitated staccato, eyes following the dodgeballs flying back and forth.
Maybe he shouldn't have stood there and gotten himself knocked out of the game, because god, he wants to hit someone. Like that kid over there, Mr. All-American All-Star Athlete, freaking boyscout could use a ball to the face. He can practically see it playing out in his head and, with a reflexive twitch of his fingers, suddenly it happens. One of the dodgeballs goes careening towards his classmate's face with a smack hard enough to bust the guy's nose. The game stops and the teacher's checking up on him, the other kids trying to figure out who threw the damn ball, and no, there's really no reason for Chase to think he had anything to do with it. It's just a freak dodgeball accident, and he wasn't even playing.
But he felt something when it happened, a little spark of something, and then a rush that coursed through his veins. For the first time since his accident, he finds that hunger inside him sated.
After the incident in gym class, Chase spends his days experimenting. Mostly, he moves things, and he basks in the high that follows. Then he starts playing with fire-- literally, he's starting fires!-- and next he moves on to conjuring familiars. One spider, two spiders, five, more, all skittering at his command.
Whatever this is, it feels right. It's his to command and revel in. And it comes so easily, like he's a real natural. (Or like he taught himself all of this before.)
Unfortunately, there's one thing Chase lacks: subtlety. He's not trying to use his magic or whatever out in the open, but come on. He's a teenager tripping on his own power, and that comes with a degree of recklessness. At school, around town, at home... Wherever he is, if he thinks nobody's watching, he'll start playing with magic.
Where: School, around the town, home
When: May 7th - 14th
What: Things start getting a little ~WITCHY~
Warnings: Addiction (to magic as a stand-in for drugs, but. You know. Themes of addiction, all the same).
[Open]
It started as this little itch he felt at his fingertips-- not too bad at first. Intermittent and easy to ignore and write off as some kind of side effect of his 'accident.' But as the weeks passed, it grew and spread through his insides, this persistent, gnawing hunger for something indefinable.
And, since nothing he did would make it go away, he started to become restless, agitated, way more of a pill than usual. (Sorry, Sam.) He just wants to make it stop, but whatever it is his body (no, more than his body) wants, he can't figure it out.
It's a month since his accident-- four weeks of living with this growing hunger-- before something gives. It's during gym class, of all things. All he's doing is sitting at the top of the bleachers, shoulders hunched and arms hugging middle as he watches his classmates scurry around playing dodgeball. Being the exact opposite of a team player, it was easy to let himself get hit and sent out within moments of the game starting. The bleachers give him a great vantage point to watch everyone else run around like idiots and get smacked with balls.
But more than ever, there's that itch in his fingertips, and that hunger, and the desire to rip his skin open and step out of his body. His foot taps on the bleacher in an agitated staccato, eyes following the dodgeballs flying back and forth.
Maybe he shouldn't have stood there and gotten himself knocked out of the game, because god, he wants to hit someone. Like that kid over there, Mr. All-American All-Star Athlete, freaking boyscout could use a ball to the face. He can practically see it playing out in his head and, with a reflexive twitch of his fingers, suddenly it happens. One of the dodgeballs goes careening towards his classmate's face with a smack hard enough to bust the guy's nose. The game stops and the teacher's checking up on him, the other kids trying to figure out who threw the damn ball, and no, there's really no reason for Chase to think he had anything to do with it. It's just a freak dodgeball accident, and he wasn't even playing.
But he felt something when it happened, a little spark of something, and then a rush that coursed through his veins. For the first time since his accident, he finds that hunger inside him sated.
After the incident in gym class, Chase spends his days experimenting. Mostly, he moves things, and he basks in the high that follows. Then he starts playing with fire-- literally, he's starting fires!-- and next he moves on to conjuring familiars. One spider, two spiders, five, more, all skittering at his command.
Whatever this is, it feels right. It's his to command and revel in. And it comes so easily, like he's a real natural. (Or like he taught himself all of this before.)
Unfortunately, there's one thing Chase lacks: subtlety. He's not trying to use his magic or whatever out in the open, but come on. He's a teenager tripping on his own power, and that comes with a degree of recklessness. At school, around town, at home... Wherever he is, if he thinks nobody's watching, he'll start playing with magic.