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[credere]

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[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?"

[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.

[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?"

[credere]

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

[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."

[credere]

Yes. That sounds simple.

"How?"

[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."

[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.

[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."

[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?"

[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."

[credere]

"What if there isn't anything?"

[magician_king]

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

[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.

[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."

[credere]

His eyes snap open.

"They weren't baseless. I killed her."

[magician_king]

"Yeah, but you could have beaten her head in with a brick, too."

He says, shaking his head, and then winces.

"Fuck- sorry, Credence." That was bad, even for Quentin. "My point is more, it's a tool, not a curse. All that happened was a product of her abuse, not a product of the magic."

[credere]

Visibly - inevitably - he flinches.

"She always said that sorcerers would be put to death," he mumbles. "And I'm dead. So she was right, wasn't she?"

[magician_king]

"I'm not."

Though.

"Doesn't that mean something?"

[credere]

"You're trapped here."

A quiet observation.

"Because of some magic you did."

Doesn't that mean something?

[magician_king]

"...yeah, I am."

He realizes, with a bit of a wince.

"I guess I don't have a leg to stand on."

[credere]

And then Credence winces, too.

"...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you."

[magician_king]

"It's not an insult."

He promises.

"It's just- a reality. Anyways. I think we've kind of- I think we should let that one sit. Except that, you obviously still have some worries about actually being a magic user."

[credere]

"I think it's just best if I don't," he concludes. It won't make him happy, but it won't make him unhappy, either.

[magician_king]

"Okay. Then we can do the pressure valve relief stuff without translating it into actions you're going to learn."

He says;

"It will involve casting periodically, but just enough to be safe."