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From:

credere

"Of course He would," Credence says, looking bewildered by the idea (and privately unimpressed by Richard's lack of theological rigor). "We are given the capacity to sin so that we can choose to turn away from it, or else salvation is meaningless."

From:

magician_king

"Alice, who was much smarter than Richard, disagreed. She thought magic was organic, something beautiful that grew in and around and behind the world, on account of the complexity of the creation."

He provides instead.

From:

credere

This, Credence struggles to dispute - not because Alice is 'much smarter' but because he knows how Quentin feels about her.

"So why would the Scripture call it an abomination, if we choose to use it?"

From:

magician_king

"I don't really know."

He says, openly.

"It's a question many people have different answers to. Like all religion." And, as it occurs to him; "Hey, have you met Tiffany? Is she still around?"

From:

credere

He nods.

"Yes, in the chapel. We've talked a little. I didn't think she..."

Had powers, has to seriously debate these issues with herself.

From:

magician_king

"She doesn't, but she has a lot of intelligent stuff to say about literal interpretations of scripture."

He says, is why he thought of her.

From:

credere

"Oh. Alright, I. I'll talk to her about it."

He wrings his hands.

"What will you need to fix the window?"

From:

magician_king

"Nothing today. I don't know if I can do anything about the broken out panes, not unless you have the shattered pieces, but-"

But for now he refocuses, touching his fingertip to one pane that just has a spiderweb crack passing along it. He breathes in, breathes out, closes his eyes, lifts his hands and contorts them into one fantastic shape- then touches the glass again, and begins to talk it back off its' semi-shattered ledge.

From:

credere

Credence watches, holding his breath, as the glass seems to -- for lack of any other word - heal itself. It's a simple thing, compared to some of the magic he's seen, and yet it astonishes him.

"Thank you," he whispers, when he's done.

From:

magician_king

"So when you came to me before?" He asks, moving onto the next pane- broken through, but still with enough glass to stretch under his touch. "Why did you want to begin learning?"

From:

credere

He shrugs helplessly.

"People think that I can. And that - I should."

His mother isn't around to dictate his life to him any more; Mr Graves isn't here to make grandiose, deeply conditional promises. But that doesn't mean he's suddenly going to start making his own decisions.

From:

magician_king

"Fuck people. Do what you want to do."

Says Quentin, who can definitely be that shoulder-angel for him.

"This still makes you really uncomfortable, doesn't it?"

From:

credere

"I don't know what I want to do," he says, shaking his head. "I've never had to know."

From:

magician_king

"Well, I realize the depth of the hypocrisy of me saying this, but your first step should probably be figuring out what would make you happy."

From:

credere

Yes. That sounds simple.

"How?"

From:

magician_king

"Close your eyes."

Quentin instructs. This, he can do for him.

"And take in a deep breath in through your nose, and let it out through your mouth."

From:

credere

Credence isn't entirely sure where this is going, but he can follow orders. He shuts his eyes, slowly pulls in a breath, pushes it out.

From:

magician_king

"Settle so you're sitting comfortably, and breathe in to the count of four, two, three, four, hold the breath, two, three, four, and let it out, two three, four, five, six."

He says, and runs him through that a few times, keeping one eye on him while he works on the glass.

"And as you breath, you're going to feel yourself relaxing. Feel your shoulders drop down, as they get looser. Feel the muscles in your brow relax. Feel the way each breath releases tension you're carrying."

From:

credere

Credence rearranges himself slightly where he's sitting, and - in two three four, hold two three four, out two three four -

"Is this magic?"

From:

magician_king

"It's just mindfulness."

He promises, and moves to sit down in front of him.

"It's a way to clear your thoughts. You'll feel your breath come deeper and deeper, and slowly, steadily, you're going to think about the things in your day that make you happy."

From:

credere

"What if there isn't anything?"

From:

magician_king

"Then just focus on imagining the feeling. A cool, quiet peacefulness, and with each breath, it fills you up a little more."

From:

credere

He's still struggling to see the wisdom of this. It feels like an excuse to just sit around lazily, doing nothing, thinking nothing - he can hear his mother's voice distantly, chastising him whenever she caught him in an idle moment.

He tries to breathe deeply, to banish those thoughts.

What makes him happy? His little sister made him happy - but he'll probably never see her again. Mr Graves made him happy - but he'd only ever been lying to him.

What in his day makes him happy here? He doesn't know.

Edited Date: 2017-03-13 06:01 pm (UTC)

From:

magician_king

"Now, imagine your life how it's going to be here for the next few months, maybe a year. The times you'll have in the Enclosure, the people you're going to know. The days you'll spend puttering with me. The nights spent in prayer. Imagine waking up in the morning, and going to the mess hall, and taking a cup of something warm-"

He instructs him, steady, and soothing.

"Think about the fact that you're going to work hard to make the Obscurus safe, that we trust you to put that hard work in, those long hours. Part of you will grapple with some magic, because part of being here, part of knowing me, will be letting go of that control, and that fear, and your mother's baseless prejudices."