[EXO] [PD15] Once a Thief (Always a Thaumaturge)
Title: Once a Thief (Always a Thaumaturge)
Fandom: EXO (sort of fused with Final Fantasy VII, plus some geography from FFVIII)
Series: Phoenix Down (#15)
Rating: G
Genre: AU, crossover (sort of)
Wordcount: 1185
Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit.
Summary: (Vignette.) Shixun's never been high on his own magic, never come down from the exhilaration of whipping up a hurricane with his own two hands. Sehun has.
A/N: Work and other RL commitments have unfortunately stolen away the bulk of my writing time this year, which is why it's been so long since the series was last updated. It's still in progress, however, and if you have a myWriteClub account, you can log in and search for 'notaverse' to see what I'm working on. (If you don't, the next fic's currently at about 9.5k.)
Crossposted to AO3
Once a Thief (Always a Thaumaturge)
Sehun's not a thief. But Shixun was, and that means Sehun is too, now, even though he no longer needs to be.
Shixun had grown up secure in the knowledge that if he wanted anything at all out of life, he'd have to acquire it himself through any means possible. Sehun's growing up all over again, merging two lives into a brand new one - familiar face, familiar name, but so many memories that he doesn't know what to do with them. They sit scrambled inside his brain, like pieces from two different jigsaw puzzles thrown haphazardly into a box, and his task is to pick through them and identify which piece belongs to which puzzle. Some are easier to split out than others: anything where he's interacting with other people is usually straightforward enough to separate, because the people before and the people afterward are so very different. But then there are memories about himself, about his likes and dislikes, about his habits and his skills, and those are much more complicated.
Shixun knew how to pick locks, and how to con or sneak his way inside almost any building. He could fight, if he had to, but mostly he'd preferred stealth, leaving his targets with no memory of his name or face to be traced back to him. He'd learned which materia were the rarest, the types of people most likely to have them, and who would be most keen to buy them from him afterwards without asking too many questions.
But the most valuable materia Sehun has ever possessed is one he didn't even have to steal. Chanyeol's Summon materia, the only one of its kind that he's ever encountered, the sole reason Sehun exists now. Without him, Shixun would have died in Fort Condor. Instead, Sehun's alive and well on the Highwind, flying off to meet whatever the future holds for them all, and the only thing he's stolen in weeks is Joonmyun's wallet (and even then, he'd given it back almost immediately). Shixun wouldn't recognise him.
Sehun recognises Shixun, though. Shixun's there's in the back of his mind every time he catches a glimpse of materia shining in the hilt of Kris's sword, or Jongin's gauntlets. Shixun's there, eyeing up the glowing red and green gems in Yixing's staff and Jongdae's spear. Shixun knows where Joonmyun keeps his stash, specially brought from Fort Condor, and it makes Sehun's fingers start to itch. Shixun never met any of these people but they're Sehun's friends, past and present, and he won't take anything from them that they're not willing to give.
He has to keep reminding himself of that when every instinct he has tells him he should be plotting, scheming, analysing the situation to find the right time and place to make his move. Materia means money, and money means food, and clothing, and shelter - all the things that had been in short supply growing up on the poorest street in Wutai. Materia means protection. Materia means comfort.
Materia also means thrill. Daring. Risk that one day he'll reach for one of the precious glowing stones, only to have a vicious set of fangs clamp down on his wrist, or perhaps the sudden prick of a knife at his throat. It's a rush that gets his blood pumping as much as his memories of using his powers, feeling the surge of excitement travel from the tips of his waiting fingers all the way down to his toes.
He's stolen other things too, in his time, but only when he's had no choice. Stealing rides on trains when he can't afford the fare. Stealing dry clothes when he's been caught in a storm and everything he owns has been soaked through. Stealing Potions when he's been too sick to try for anything else. But Shixun's always thought of himself as a materia thief, so now Sehun does too, although the Sehun of the past would never have heard of materia. Magic stored in coloured stones? Unthinkable. Magic had been as much a part of their bodies as their flesh and blood - a natural, powerful force that only they could command, not some resource that could be captured in items for anyone to use.
Shixun's never been high on his own magic, never come down from the exhilaration of whipping up a hurricane with his own two hands. Sehun has. Sehun's called upon the wind to do his bidding, sending monsters flying with a tornado of his own making. Sehun's let the tingle in his fingertips swell, and swell, and swell, until he's shaking down to his bones from the force building up inside, a typhoon longing to be set free. He's cupped a storm in his hands and turned it loose upon the world, and there's nothing - nothing - that this new Sehun, only a few weeks old, has felt that's in any way comparable.
But Shixun has. Shixun's waited, heart in his throat and breath scarcely reaching his lungs, for the moment when his hand scrapes the surface of the materia he wants. He's raced against the clock to remove the stones from their settings before their owner wakes, pulse thudding with such force that he should be sending tremors through the entire building and rendering all his caution void. He's swallowed down his glee when he's found new targets, suppressing his smile and the shine in his eyes as he tries to blend in, to seem harmless as he speaks and in no way interested in the materia collection of some rich old businessman who just happens to be bragging about it to his equally wealthy cronies.
Different skills but the same thrills. The reborn Sehun is denied both, for now, but performing magic like that is out of his reach, and he can't - he won't - steal from his friends. Using materia and items... it's not the same. Magic that doesn't begin with a spark in his fingertips is like receiving stolen materia from someone else and having to listen to their story about how they acquired it. It's flat, without excitement.
He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to work magic like that again. It doesn't seem to exist in this world the same way it had in his previous one, with only the Summons having power of their own. He thinks he'd have heard by now if it were possible.
But soon it won't matter anymore. They'll find the Tree of Life and either save it or die trying. He'll fight alongside his friends, for the first and the last time in this life, and he'll find his highs right there. The urgency of their shared struggle, the answering gleam in Jongin's eye when he looks over for reassurance, the squeeze of Joonmyun's hand on his shoulder as they venture into the fray. Breathing hard, striking fast, trembling with the knowledge that each moment could be his last. If he lives, he'll have a battle full of sensations to see him through this life and the next.
After all, what could be a bigger thrill than saving the world?
Fandom: EXO (sort of fused with Final Fantasy VII, plus some geography from FFVIII)
Series: Phoenix Down (#15)
Rating: G
Genre: AU, crossover (sort of)
Wordcount: 1185
Disclaimer: Not mine, damnit.
Summary: (Vignette.) Shixun's never been high on his own magic, never come down from the exhilaration of whipping up a hurricane with his own two hands. Sehun has.
A/N: Work and other RL commitments have unfortunately stolen away the bulk of my writing time this year, which is why it's been so long since the series was last updated. It's still in progress, however, and if you have a myWriteClub account, you can log in and search for 'notaverse' to see what I'm working on. (If you don't, the next fic's currently at about 9.5k.)
Crossposted to AO3
Once a Thief (Always a Thaumaturge)
Sehun's not a thief. But Shixun was, and that means Sehun is too, now, even though he no longer needs to be.
Shixun had grown up secure in the knowledge that if he wanted anything at all out of life, he'd have to acquire it himself through any means possible. Sehun's growing up all over again, merging two lives into a brand new one - familiar face, familiar name, but so many memories that he doesn't know what to do with them. They sit scrambled inside his brain, like pieces from two different jigsaw puzzles thrown haphazardly into a box, and his task is to pick through them and identify which piece belongs to which puzzle. Some are easier to split out than others: anything where he's interacting with other people is usually straightforward enough to separate, because the people before and the people afterward are so very different. But then there are memories about himself, about his likes and dislikes, about his habits and his skills, and those are much more complicated.
Shixun knew how to pick locks, and how to con or sneak his way inside almost any building. He could fight, if he had to, but mostly he'd preferred stealth, leaving his targets with no memory of his name or face to be traced back to him. He'd learned which materia were the rarest, the types of people most likely to have them, and who would be most keen to buy them from him afterwards without asking too many questions.
But the most valuable materia Sehun has ever possessed is one he didn't even have to steal. Chanyeol's Summon materia, the only one of its kind that he's ever encountered, the sole reason Sehun exists now. Without him, Shixun would have died in Fort Condor. Instead, Sehun's alive and well on the Highwind, flying off to meet whatever the future holds for them all, and the only thing he's stolen in weeks is Joonmyun's wallet (and even then, he'd given it back almost immediately). Shixun wouldn't recognise him.
Sehun recognises Shixun, though. Shixun's there's in the back of his mind every time he catches a glimpse of materia shining in the hilt of Kris's sword, or Jongin's gauntlets. Shixun's there, eyeing up the glowing red and green gems in Yixing's staff and Jongdae's spear. Shixun knows where Joonmyun keeps his stash, specially brought from Fort Condor, and it makes Sehun's fingers start to itch. Shixun never met any of these people but they're Sehun's friends, past and present, and he won't take anything from them that they're not willing to give.
He has to keep reminding himself of that when every instinct he has tells him he should be plotting, scheming, analysing the situation to find the right time and place to make his move. Materia means money, and money means food, and clothing, and shelter - all the things that had been in short supply growing up on the poorest street in Wutai. Materia means protection. Materia means comfort.
Materia also means thrill. Daring. Risk that one day he'll reach for one of the precious glowing stones, only to have a vicious set of fangs clamp down on his wrist, or perhaps the sudden prick of a knife at his throat. It's a rush that gets his blood pumping as much as his memories of using his powers, feeling the surge of excitement travel from the tips of his waiting fingers all the way down to his toes.
He's stolen other things too, in his time, but only when he's had no choice. Stealing rides on trains when he can't afford the fare. Stealing dry clothes when he's been caught in a storm and everything he owns has been soaked through. Stealing Potions when he's been too sick to try for anything else. But Shixun's always thought of himself as a materia thief, so now Sehun does too, although the Sehun of the past would never have heard of materia. Magic stored in coloured stones? Unthinkable. Magic had been as much a part of their bodies as their flesh and blood - a natural, powerful force that only they could command, not some resource that could be captured in items for anyone to use.
Shixun's never been high on his own magic, never come down from the exhilaration of whipping up a hurricane with his own two hands. Sehun has. Sehun's called upon the wind to do his bidding, sending monsters flying with a tornado of his own making. Sehun's let the tingle in his fingertips swell, and swell, and swell, until he's shaking down to his bones from the force building up inside, a typhoon longing to be set free. He's cupped a storm in his hands and turned it loose upon the world, and there's nothing - nothing - that this new Sehun, only a few weeks old, has felt that's in any way comparable.
But Shixun has. Shixun's waited, heart in his throat and breath scarcely reaching his lungs, for the moment when his hand scrapes the surface of the materia he wants. He's raced against the clock to remove the stones from their settings before their owner wakes, pulse thudding with such force that he should be sending tremors through the entire building and rendering all his caution void. He's swallowed down his glee when he's found new targets, suppressing his smile and the shine in his eyes as he tries to blend in, to seem harmless as he speaks and in no way interested in the materia collection of some rich old businessman who just happens to be bragging about it to his equally wealthy cronies.
Different skills but the same thrills. The reborn Sehun is denied both, for now, but performing magic like that is out of his reach, and he can't - he won't - steal from his friends. Using materia and items... it's not the same. Magic that doesn't begin with a spark in his fingertips is like receiving stolen materia from someone else and having to listen to their story about how they acquired it. It's flat, without excitement.
He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to work magic like that again. It doesn't seem to exist in this world the same way it had in his previous one, with only the Summons having power of their own. He thinks he'd have heard by now if it were possible.
But soon it won't matter anymore. They'll find the Tree of Life and either save it or die trying. He'll fight alongside his friends, for the first and the last time in this life, and he'll find his highs right there. The urgency of their shared struggle, the answering gleam in Jongin's eye when he looks over for reassurance, the squeeze of Joonmyun's hand on his shoulder as they venture into the fray. Breathing hard, striking fast, trembling with the knowledge that each moment could be his last. If he lives, he'll have a battle full of sensations to see him through this life and the next.
After all, what could be a bigger thrill than saving the world?