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Written to the prompt by make-up-a-wizard — wizard who takes care of another wizard’s familiar while they’re on vacation
More Birch and Dave! This is all that’s been written so far but I have saved prompts and saved snippets for more of a wizard and her familiar who is just a regular guy.
Originally posted on cohost on July 9th, 2024.
Dave is an adult human man, a homeowner, a sensibly sized pickup truck owner. He has bills and taxes. He has forklift, workplace first aid, and crane operator certificates. He has a fridge just for beer and gatorade in his garage. He does not need to be babysat. “Why would you agree to this?”
Dave’s wizard Betula—Birch, to Dave—rolls her eyes at the exasperation her flailing familiar was directing at her. “It’s a trade.” Her chipper tone matches the smile that is the only thing Dave can see of her face since the brim of her hat is wide enough to veil past her shoulders if it weren’t held up by magic. If he were to stoop, her face would be just about as covered by massive void-of-space-dark sunglasses.
In another expression of exasperation, Dave rubs the bristly scruff of his face. “So when Pella goes on vacation, I’m going to be looking after Mark.”
“Who’s Mark?” Betula asks, a circle of shimmering air above her palm reflecting the smile that is all Dave can see as she checks her lipstick.
Dave stamps a well-worn work boot on the stone floor of Betula’s conveyance room. Her wizard tower is mostly stone; it’s currently a little chilly for her one-piece swimsuit, long flowing swimsuit cover, and straw sandals to match her hat. Hanging from her elbow is an also matching straw bag, it swings as Betula snaps her shimmering air palm mirror shut to address Dave with the same question.
“Pella’s familiar, of course.”
Betula is enjoying bothering Dave. Dave knows Betula is enjoying his being bothered. He is having a hard time keeping from being bothered because he is an adult human man who does not want to be babysat. “Do you not like Mark?”
Dave gets along with everyone, Betula knows this. She enjoys his knowing and pointed annoyance as she ushers her familiar into the center of the room.
The wizard lair of the wizard Pella could be described as mostly dripping where it isn’t oozing. Initially Dave, an adult human man who is well-used to wizard nonsense by now, resolved to be at least good-natured. He’s a day into drips and oozes contaminating his work jeans and flannel when he decides to be a nuisance. Well-used to wizard nonsense, Dave is very adept at being a nuisance while refitting humidity-swollen thousand-drawer cabinet drawers and sloping floors for optimal drip and ooze runoff without placing himself in any mortal harm.
When Pella returns Dave to his natural plane of existence—his flannel no longer recognizably plaid patterned—they do their best to assure and insist that Dave was a pleasure to have. Betula knows by Dave’s grin that Pella is pre-emptively placating a presumed potential displeasure should they imply anything negative of Betula by way of her familiar.
As predicted, when it came time for Pella to vacate, supervising Mark became Dave’s responsibility not Betula’s. A school of razorfish darting to vertical standstill after every shift of his many bodies, Mark’s full name is something Dave physically cannot pronounce unless Betula does wizard nonsense to Dave’s vocal cords because human vocal cords can’t speak abyssal (and their contract as wizard and familiar forbids such bodily modifications on Dave’s stipulation).
Mark, who does not speak at all, finally settles in after the good long while it takes Dave to find a televised sport Mark is apparently amenable to.
Appearing for the first time in days since Pella dropped off Mark on their way to some plane of party drip and ooze, Betula stands at the doorless doorway of the room Dave had long ago converted from her miscellany storage (Betula had much miscellany she had stored haphazardly throughout her tower) into a more typical living room setup. “What are you watching?”
Dave looks up over the back of the corduroy couch he had brought to the wizard tower in the back of his sensibly sized pickup truck, having conceded the recliner to Mark who hovered just above its cushions stock straight still and eyes fixed on the TV screen. “Darts.”
More Birch and Dave! This is all that’s been written so far but I have saved prompts and saved snippets for more of a wizard and her familiar who is just a regular guy.
Originally posted on cohost on July 9th, 2024.
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Dave is an adult human man, a homeowner, a sensibly sized pickup truck owner. He has bills and taxes. He has forklift, workplace first aid, and crane operator certificates. He has a fridge just for beer and gatorade in his garage. He does not need to be babysat. “Why would you agree to this?”
Dave’s wizard Betula—Birch, to Dave—rolls her eyes at the exasperation her flailing familiar was directing at her. “It’s a trade.” Her chipper tone matches the smile that is the only thing Dave can see of her face since the brim of her hat is wide enough to veil past her shoulders if it weren’t held up by magic. If he were to stoop, her face would be just about as covered by massive void-of-space-dark sunglasses.
In another expression of exasperation, Dave rubs the bristly scruff of his face. “So when Pella goes on vacation, I’m going to be looking after Mark.”
“Who’s Mark?” Betula asks, a circle of shimmering air above her palm reflecting the smile that is all Dave can see as she checks her lipstick.
Dave stamps a well-worn work boot on the stone floor of Betula’s conveyance room. Her wizard tower is mostly stone; it’s currently a little chilly for her one-piece swimsuit, long flowing swimsuit cover, and straw sandals to match her hat. Hanging from her elbow is an also matching straw bag, it swings as Betula snaps her shimmering air palm mirror shut to address Dave with the same question.
“Pella’s familiar, of course.”
Betula is enjoying bothering Dave. Dave knows Betula is enjoying his being bothered. He is having a hard time keeping from being bothered because he is an adult human man who does not want to be babysat. “Do you not like Mark?”
Dave gets along with everyone, Betula knows this. She enjoys his knowing and pointed annoyance as she ushers her familiar into the center of the room.
~~~
The wizard lair of the wizard Pella could be described as mostly dripping where it isn’t oozing. Initially Dave, an adult human man who is well-used to wizard nonsense by now, resolved to be at least good-natured. He’s a day into drips and oozes contaminating his work jeans and flannel when he decides to be a nuisance. Well-used to wizard nonsense, Dave is very adept at being a nuisance while refitting humidity-swollen thousand-drawer cabinet drawers and sloping floors for optimal drip and ooze runoff without placing himself in any mortal harm.
When Pella returns Dave to his natural plane of existence—his flannel no longer recognizably plaid patterned—they do their best to assure and insist that Dave was a pleasure to have. Betula knows by Dave’s grin that Pella is pre-emptively placating a presumed potential displeasure should they imply anything negative of Betula by way of her familiar.
As predicted, when it came time for Pella to vacate, supervising Mark became Dave’s responsibility not Betula’s. A school of razorfish darting to vertical standstill after every shift of his many bodies, Mark’s full name is something Dave physically cannot pronounce unless Betula does wizard nonsense to Dave’s vocal cords because human vocal cords can’t speak abyssal (and their contract as wizard and familiar forbids such bodily modifications on Dave’s stipulation).
Mark, who does not speak at all, finally settles in after the good long while it takes Dave to find a televised sport Mark is apparently amenable to.
Appearing for the first time in days since Pella dropped off Mark on their way to some plane of party drip and ooze, Betula stands at the doorless doorway of the room Dave had long ago converted from her miscellany storage (Betula had much miscellany she had stored haphazardly throughout her tower) into a more typical living room setup. “What are you watching?”
Dave looks up over the back of the corduroy couch he had brought to the wizard tower in the back of his sensibly sized pickup truck, having conceded the recliner to Mark who hovered just above its cushions stock straight still and eyes fixed on the TV screen. “Darts.”
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