"Noooo, I'm totally fine, I got this," he insists with a wave of his hand. Well. It's more of a boneless flop of his hand. But he's fine, really! "I've cast while way more shitfaced back home..."
And so he starts to hum, like he's tuning his voice, finding the right frequency to commune with the Gift. Soon, he's singing-- Patti Smith, Dancing Barefoot-- because it's an easy melody to work a few spells to. From across the room, one of the empty bottles tips over and goes rolling across the floor (oops), but Jeff doesn't miss a beat, just seems to focus a little harder as he sings and-- ah. There. The lights go out. And in the dark, new lights form on the ceiling, casting a dim glow in the room.
It's almost like they're laying under a starry sky.
"Oh." It's quiet and awed, a very honest response as Bash stares up at the ceiling for a long moment, the smile on his face almost childish in its pure delight. "That's amazing."
And it's all Jeff's, not some divine legacy thrust upon him. Born of his love of music and desire to make the place a little prettier. Bash is almost jealous. He relaxes, still wrapped lightly around Jeff, but not supporting him quite so heavily.
Jeff's got a smile on his face, sweet and relaxed and beatific, as he looks up at the "stars" on the ceiling, then shifts his gaze to look at Bash. The delighted look on the other man's face makes his insides go all gooey, and he's just purely happy for one moment. However low he was feeling earlier, this is the exact opposite of that.
How long has it been since he's felt... light like this? It won't last. It never does. But at least he can forget about the bullshit of his life, just for a little bit.
Jeff rests a hand on Bash's chest, drumming his fingers lazily.
"I do this whenever I wanna see the stars." It's a habit he had even back home. LA's night sky didn't exactly offer a clear look at the cosmos. Of course, the Down's even worse. There's not even a sky here. "Most of my magic's like this. Um... lights and fluff."
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And so he starts to hum, like he's tuning his voice, finding the right frequency to commune with the Gift. Soon, he's singing-- Patti Smith, Dancing Barefoot-- because it's an easy melody to work a few spells to. From across the room, one of the empty bottles tips over and goes rolling across the floor (oops), but Jeff doesn't miss a beat, just seems to focus a little harder as he sings and-- ah. There. The lights go out. And in the dark, new lights form on the ceiling, casting a dim glow in the room.
It's almost like they're laying under a starry sky.
"That's better."
no subject
And it's all Jeff's, not some divine legacy thrust upon him. Born of his love of music and desire to make the place a little prettier. Bash is almost jealous. He relaxes, still wrapped lightly around Jeff, but not supporting him quite so heavily.
"Not just a trick, that's real cool."
no subject
How long has it been since he's felt... light like this? It won't last. It never does. But at least he can forget about the bullshit of his life, just for a little bit.
Jeff rests a hand on Bash's chest, drumming his fingers lazily.
"I do this whenever I wanna see the stars." It's a habit he had even back home. LA's night sky didn't exactly offer a clear look at the cosmos. Of course, the Down's even worse. There's not even a sky here. "Most of my magic's like this. Um... lights and fluff."