Independent Studies
@Sylvain Indarys
Sylvain wasn't using words to react to Ruka's line of questioning anymore, was instead relying solely on the expression of his face and body to do all his talking for him. It worked too; Everything about him was screaming about how little confidence he had in his own skills, how nervous he was to be casting a spell that could potentially go wrong. Sylvain's wand was a proud horse and the boy merely an amateur without any idea how to tame it.
Ruka watched with raised brows as the other boy rolled up his sleeves, took out his wand as if he was approaching some sort of life threatening task and not just the removal of some spiderwebs. It was almost painful to watch the way he neglected putting any focus on himself, instead concentrating so hard on the wand that Ruka could almost see it glowing with all the control it was being given. It was almost like Sylvain was trying to rely on his wand to do all the work for him rather than on channeling the magic inside him into it, as if he was somehow scared of his wand overthrowing him should he act up in any way. Concentration was a key point in using magic of course, but this seemed to be an entirely wrong way to go about it.
Still, for the moment the Gryffindor remained silent so he could watch the whole process. The hand movement seemed correct, practiced even, but that wasn't going to save the spell when it was built upon such shaky foundation already.
As expected, the wand which had been overfed with control of the situation was not acting in Sylvain's favour at all, took all that power and crashed it back into the boy trying to give a verbal command. An almost amusing display of his wand saying You're not the boss of me in the most effective way possible.
Immediately Sylvain's mouth had started to fill with foam, and Ruka had already expected him to start crying again, but instead he just seemed to slump in defeat, saddened expression turned to focus on the Gryffindor as he attempted to talk through the bubbles falling from his mouth.
Ruka had tried very hard to pull himself together, but the sound of slurred speech, paired with the sight of Sylvain's foaming mouth were simply too much. Breaking a deep breath in half, Ruka burst into uncontrolled laughter, bending forward to steady his hands against his bent knees. He could feel the corners of his eyes filling with tears of amusement and it took him a little while to calm himself down from his fit. "Sorry, sorry," he said, but his tone wasn't exactly apologetic and there was still a wide grin stretching his face painfully. "Looks like your wand thought you needed to wash your mouth." Another burst of giggles accompanied his words, his whole body vibrating with it.
Slowly he took a step towards the other boy, lifting his own wand to move it in the right gesture with a flick of his wrist. "Finite Incantatem," he chanted brightly, his laughter calming down as the Counter Spell slowly eliminated the bubbles leaving Sylvain's mouth. "There, all better, see? Nothing happened." Hopping up to sit on a desk, Ruka put his wand back into the pocket of his trousers before steadying his elbows on his knees to rest his head on the palms of his hands. "Why are you letting your wand take over like that?" he asked, a little seriousness returning to his eyes as he mustered Sylvain in interest. "You realise you're supposed to tell it what it's supposed to do, not the other way around, right?"
Straightening his posture a little again, Ruka shook his head. "You're letting yourself be bullied by a piece of wood," he pointed out, wagging a finger in Sylvain's direction. "That won't do. Would you let a person treat you like that, or would you stand up to them?" There was probably a chance that Sylvain wouldn't put up much fight if someone decided to physically wash out his mouth either, but Ruka thought it a good idea to put the comparison out there anyway.
"When you cast that spell you looked like you were praying to your wand to please please do what you want it to do. Well, I have a rule for you." Jumping off the table again, Ruka marched to the other side of the room where there was an old, dusty blackboard lined up on the wall. Grabbing a piece of chalk from a container to its side, Ruka started to write down a sentence in sloppy handwriting.
Don't worship the stick
Once done with that, he dropped the chalk again, clapping his hands together to get some of the grainy powder off his fingertips.
"It's just a tool to help you out," he said as he refocused his attention on Sylvain again. "The real magic comes from you." Sappy. He hated how sappy that sounded, pulled a face at his own words, but he couldn't take them back anymore anyway. "That's why there's such a thing as wandless magic; Because if we are able to channel all that energy correctly, we don't even need our wands. So why are you scared of something that's only taking advantage of your own power to harass you?"
~Hell is other people~ - Jean Paul Sartre
Stamina: 7 ~ Evasion: 10 ~ Strength: 4 ~ Wisdom: 14 ~ Arcane Power: 6 ~ Accuracy: 9
Independent Studies
Hexcode= #507091
His feelings told him that he was quite the sight to behold once Syl saw the dismissively jovial attitude that Ruka bore so proudly. Problems such as casting spells, and succeeding in school melted away and the rapscallion's laughter became so heartwarming and endearing that the lad couldn't remember he'd made a mistake much at all. Syl instead began to think of Ruka, and how he might view his failed attempt at controlling his own magic.
Curiously enough, Sylvain hadn't stopped and thought to consider that Ruka might enjoy his failure, or at the least derive amusement from it. In fact, he hadn't considered at all the ramifications of being relatably fallible, and how it might make him a bit more comfortable to open up. Sure, the bubbles falling from his mouth, coupled with the sickly taste of purell gel hand soap would cause all the sweets he consumed to be at least mildly disgusting for the week or so, but the laugh it gave Ruka would hopefully last him a life time. Sylvain was content in that, all he wanted was to fit in and sharing laughter made him feel like he belonged.
Seeing Ruka bent forward, hands on his knees with tears streaking from the corners of his eyes while he laughed the earnest laugh of someone who had been thoroughly amused, brought the scourged wizard comfort. Syl watched in mild discomfort as Ruka added another joke to the heap of hilarity that had ensued from his attempt to study and cast charms. Syl had at first rammed a spongified door, then he had made a huge mess. Now he was like an overflowing gas station restroom soap dispenser, draining everywhere. Carefully, Syl mumble-chuckled as Ruka joked a bit more at his expense.
Countering the scourge of soap in his oral cavity with Finite Incantatem, Ruka did yet another favor to the wistful scholar, further educating him on charms magic. For all of Ruka's opening humility and Sylvain's bumbling humiliation, Ruka was a bit more adept at charms than originally let on, and Sylvain was beginning to notice it. Syl wasn't opposed to education by trial or ordeal, so he was still quite glad for the knowledge the silly second year had imparted to him. Though he wished he didn't need to be embarrassed to learn from his mistakes, Syl reluctantly decided to let go of the power the mistake held over him.
Admittedly, Ruka's lecture on wand control felt more like scolding than education, but scolding lectures were at important times directed to those who needed them and make no mistake Sylvain had needed this scolding lecture for some time now. Sylvain nodded in agreement multiple times silently echoing Ruka's sentiments about being bullied by a piece of wood a very proud and vain piece of wood. The wispy scholar had let the wand control him for long enough now, it was time to start reconciling his efforts and focusing on mastering control of the magic within his blood.
Don't worship the stick
Sylvain hadn't worshiped it or at least he hadn't thought that he was worshiping it. The wizard had instead naively feared it, but that fear seemed silly compared to Ruka's next words. Words that Sylvain had needed to hear from someone at Hogwarts for a very long time.
The real magic comes from you.
Sylvain knew this of course, but it was hard to believe that he was the one who made the magic happen. Others seemed to convince magic out from hiding, while some seemed to attract it in swathes. Sylvain often felt like all he did was speak and magic happened, as if the words inside his head came true when he willed them to. The discovery shed light on the fact that magic was more closely tied to his feelings than he had previously thought, and now that he was a swimming sea of feelings, that magic had gotten out of control. Syl's conclusion wasn't that he feared the stick, but rather that he feared that the stick was right. That he wasn't assertive enough to control himself.
"You're right Ruka," Sylvain said, wiping the last of the soap from his lips. "You're right with increasing frequency, and that's the sign of a good tutor," he added trying to pay a compliment but instead feeling as though his words were awkward. "The magic comes from me and I need to learn to control myself." His slight smile peaked out from behind the somber look of saponified sadness, revealing the lad's true strength. Sylvain wasn't going to give up ever, not now, not tomorrow, not next year. His magic was in his willpower itself.
Turning his attention back to the cobwebs he had moments ago failed to clean up, Sylvain pointed his wand at them with a flourish letting himself feel proud for having come this far without giving up. Speaking with a voice that rumbled like a dragon's from within his twelve year old stomach, Sylvain commanded the magic to flow from him and focused it into his wand, overpowering his wand and conquering his fear, all the while taming the beast that had so defied him since his arrival at Hogwarts. "Scourgify!"
The scouring charm's magic began working quickly. First it spread across the cobwebs, snapping the tiny threads of silk before disintegrating them into an invisible ash. Still flowing forward, the magic continued to clean the tiles of the room, scouring every nook and cranny of the empty classroom for any trace of dirt, spill or contaminate. As Sylvain swayed about the room, wand in hand, something glimmered in his eyes. It wasn't pride, or confidence, but pure awe. Awe that such a glamorous force was available to him, in a way that he could control it.
Swiveling about to face Ruka, the boy continued to cast his charm. "Scourgify!" he said again. The words passed his lips as peacefully as two strangers might share a greeting in passing. The magic leapt from him, and onto Ruka. First it dazzled his fingernails, removing any built up grime the boy had forgotten to clean himself before moving its way up his garments, treating any accrued stains. Eventually the magic found its way into his ears and hair, removing the slight bit of wax and grease clogging his features.
Relaxing his focus, and feeling a nap coming on from the exhaustion of casting such a vibrant display, Sylvain's eyes drooped as he looked at Ruka. He wouldn't wait for Ruka's approval this time, he knew he did it right. "Thanks, you really helped me a lot. Mind if we practice again next week?"
@Ruka Burnett-Tân
"Things are never so bad they can't be made worse." -Elim Garak