Heavy is the Head that Wears the Solemn Crown

Forty-Eight - The Destruction of the Beginning

Wilbur

Wilbur grabs Shubble's hand. He squeezes it tightly to hold him in the moment. She does not look at him as she raises up her other hand. She twists her fingers, closing them into a fist. The moment her pinky finger completes the fist, Wilbur feels the magic inside of him twist and snap from overwhelming pressure. He shuts his eyes tightly, ignoring the way his entire body buzzes with an energy he's never experienced before in his life. The magic's wave-like movements reach an apex, and that is the exact moment that Wilbur feels a chilly wind brush against his skin unexpectedly. The magic simmers down like a flame being buried in sand. When the magic goes back to resting inside his body, he lets his eyes open. He is not greeted by the same sight he had when he first closed them. Instead of his personal tent, he is staring at the stone walls of the Fort Jasper.

"You did good for your first teleportation," Shubble inputs with a soft, hesitant smile on her face. She looks at him, but she doesn't quite meet his eyes. Wilbur looks at Shubble's tuscan yellow eyes. Against her pale skin, they look like streaks of lightning flashing between storm clouds. Unlike him, Shubble's eyes did not carry a trace of green coloring. Instead, the green fled to the sculk growing across her skin. Like her eyes, the sculk is glowing against her skin. She has fully transitioned into her phantom form, complete with skeletal wings growing from her back to the shadows that seem to coat her entire body like a visible aura.

"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Wilbur lies. He does not want Shubble to know that he is close to panicking from having to use magic, but she can probably already tell because of the way he's squeezing her hand. If he were to do this by himself, he probably would have dissolved into paranoia. He is fairly certain that he is drawing strength from Shubble in a literal sense, using his status as the god of phantom familiars to sap away her composure. Shubble has a lot of it considering she spent a long time studying and practicing magic at the Kinoko Scholar's Academia.

"Perhaps we can find a way to get through your fear of magic," Shubble explains, her smile steadily growing as she finally meets his eyes. Wilbur smiles back at her. It takes a whole moment before Shubble remembers. She looks away from him quickly, her white hair hiding her dimming smile and flickering eyes. She's upset with him for turning her into a phantom. She willingly asked for more power, but he concedes that he should have explained that she would be giving up her status as a gnome in order to achieve this new power. Well, she's still a gnome. He can tell because of her pointed ears marking her as someone from the Fae species. The fact that she's a phantom is just another layer on top of what she already was. Shubble will see that fact soon enough. For now, Wilbur will deal with the stubbornly antisocial person that he unconsciously began to consider his best friend.

"We will certainly need to start working towards that goal if we ever want to win this war. Speaking of which, shall we?" Wilbur gestures towards the front door of Fort Jasper while extending his elbow towards Shubble. The guards patrolling around the area are staring at him and Shubble warily. He can see the way they are clutching their weapons. Wilbur wonders how long it will take him to defeat them if they should act on their first impulses. Even though he's never been one for fighting, Wilbur knows deep in his heart that he's far stronger than these mortals. His first instinct is to use magic on them, but his brain stops that train of thought with a rush of fear. His next thought is to command Shubble to deal with them for him. He won't do that because it takes away Shubble's free will, and he knows he'll be just as okay casting his own spells as he would be watching Shubble perform her rites.

"It would be better not to waste their time," Shubble agrees, hesitantly slotting her hand through his elbow. It reminds Wilbur of their time back at the camp. This would have been months ago by now as it was before Wilbur knew that Shubble had gone to the academia in Kinoko. It was after a fight with Samantha about the Winter Festival. They had been walking around the camp, meeting other people while laughing at their own jokes. Wilbur feels a wistfulness tug at his heart as he reminisces. He wishes he could go back to that time. Kristin had been alive, for one thing, and he hadn't really known just how much he hated Samantha then. Shubble had been comfortable enough to joke with him. Now, Kristin was dead, Samantha was dead to him, and Shubble felt like she would rather die. Wilbur can't fix most of those issues, but he can work with the third one. He'll figure it out. He'll bring the happy times back.