OLN: magia.Vido [CH. 1.1 UP!!]

[mkdr]

Yo! I guess this is magia.Vido, an experimental OLN by yours truly attempting to run alongside PopTart's much more successful, 'Magic and Popcorn'.

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Synopsis

In the 23rd Century, humanity has fallen out of touch with Mother Nature.

More familiar with solar-panelled sidewalks than earth and sea, humans live in lethal ignorance of the lazar — supernatural parasites born of man's collective despair.

Peony Szforza is luckier than that, though he doesn't always think so. As prodigious lazar hunter Lachél Szforza's son, Peony's likelier to become president than live a typical sixteen-year-old's life. Blessed with the ability to identify lazar at a glance, he finds himself involved with Estelle City's lazar hunter society and irrevocably stripped of his remaining normality.

Is Lachél's ordinary son prepared to follow in her luminous footsteps?

Just do your best, Peony Szforza! The audience's rooting for you!

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General Info

Genre: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Action, Dramedy
Format: episodic, first-person narrator
Status: ongoing
Schedule: every second Monday

[mkdr]

Prologue Up! Some formatting was lost, but for those the main site loads slowly for... try this.

0. Prologue

Spoiler! :

At its highest concentration, despair is a sentient toxin.

This psychic miasma seeps into our pores and blackens our blood; it pollutes our hearts and skews our brains. We call this phenomenon sᴏᴜʟ ᴘʟᴀɢᴜᴇ. The ʟᴀᴢᴀʀ — vicious entities resulting from human possession — are its lethal, creeping legacy.

Lazar exist among us largely undetected. It's impossible see the monster through its human guise until someone gets hurt, or worse.

That's what Plague Control believed for centuries.

Six years ago, I developed the ability to transcend that rule. I, Peony Szforza, unwitting son of the legendary Lachél Szforza, rewrote the book and changed the game.

No-one even asked if I wanted to play.

Six Years Earlier...

Lachél Szforza sat taller in her chair.

"My son won't play your child soldier, Nilin."

She leveled her eyes at the woman sipping coffee from behind the Plague Containment Agency's administration desk. Director Nilin d'Arlo straightened in her own leather seat and slid her cup aside.

"You're being melodramatic — no-one proposed we throw Peony into combat at age ten."

Her voice echoed within the office's confines. The topic, too sensitive to risk unwelcome eavesdroppers, warranted dimensional quarantine. Their monochromatic surroundings lay testament to the fact.

"What I suggest," Nilin continued, before Lachél could interrupt, "is that we begin his training early. There are athletes whose education started at half his age. You yourself were only fourteen when you cut down your first lazar — no?"

"That's different. Peony is his own person, not his mother's miniature."

Although time stood still within Nilin d'Arlo's quarantine matrix, Lachél felt as though the conversation had carried on for hours. Her hands, folded in her lap, curled into white-knuckled fists.

"I started early because I wanted to. I begged my father to find me a mentor. Until Peony does the same of me, I won't have him answering to the Agency — not here, not anywhere."

"Peony can't ask from you what he doesn't know exists."

"Nilin…"

The desperation in Lachél's voice pulled a drawn-out sigh from Nilin's chest. While Lachél was ten years her junior, Nilin had never been particularly maternal. In fact, were Peony Szforza anyone else's child, she wouldn't have cared enough about his autonomy to entertain Lachél's objections.

She closed her eyes.

"Try to understand the scope of these circumstances, Miss Szforza. My insistence doesn't come from a place of vanity or disdain. Your boy's preferences don't change the fact that he is, essentially, a living lazar detector."

Nilin's statement weighed down the air between them. She sipped her drink, dabbed her rouged lips with a handkerchief, and fixed Lachél with an unsettling stare.

"They'll be drawn to him, Lachél. If he's ever caught vulnerable, well — that's on your shoulders."

Lachél bit her cheek. Nilin d'Arlo posed a solid, if callous argument. Her heart twisted and drummed against her ribcage, hammering out unspoken retorts.

"I'll protect him," she said, in a pleading voice that hurt her pride. "His father can help, too. So long as he's not left alone, I'm sure that he—"

The atmosphere rippled at Nilin's command: Be silent, Lachél Szforza. You're merely a guest within my own pocket of the Universe.

Resentment spread upwards from Lachél's gut. Realizing that her fingernails had pressed stinging half-moons into her palms, Lachél willed herself relaxed and reached for the customary teacup Nilin prepared her earlier.

"I beg your pardon, Director d'Arlo."

She took a deceptively dainty sip and smiled; a too-gentle, too-agreeable, too-conceding smile whose bitterness Nilin almost found startling.

Cold silence descended upon them.

"I have a prospective mentor in mind," Nilin began, after they'd drained their lukewarm beverages. "Miss Serina Alfendi from District Four, Northern Quarter shows a pointed interest in Peony. I believe she's more than qualified to introduce him to our trade."

"Alfendi...? I've heard of her. She's quite young for an instructor, isn't she?"

"Yes, but capable. Shall we introduce her to your boy?"

"I suppose."

"I'm glad you've come around. Set an appointment at the earliest convenience, if you please."

Nilin twitched her own facetious smile.

Lachél stood up at Nilin's bidding and smoothed down her lengthy skirts. When the quarantine matrix dissipated, letting colour bleed back into their surroundings, she dipped a perfunctory bow and slipped out into the waiting room.

She found Peony settled on a leather couch, dark fringe straying into his eyes while he flipped through a storybook. The throw pillows beside him rose past his waist and emphasized his fragility.

Peony looked up at the sound of her approach.

"... ... ... ..."

Centuries passed within seconds as though Nilin's matrix were still in play. Then Lachél's shoulders relaxed in time with a drawn-out, cathartic exhalation, her tight expression now exchanged for an apologetic smile. She knelt before the couch and gathered her son into a tight hug.

"You were talking to the Director for a long time," he mumbled against her shoulder. "Am I gonna get a teacher, then?"

"I'm sorry. I told the Director you wanted to think about it for a longer while, but—"

She faltered, her long, familiar fingers curled into his shirt.

"Oh, darling, are you disappointed in Mother? She wanted to buy you more time. She wanted so much to give you a choice."

Peony hesitated. After a moment of internal conflict, he returned Lachél's embrace, tugging at her fine clothes. Soft and steady breath warmed the back of his neck.

"It's okay — really." He swallowed around a knot in his throat. "I understand what's the hurry, so... don't feel bad, Mama."

A suffocating dread began in his stomach. He'd never lied to his mother before.

1.1 Gamebreaker

Spoiler! :

June 16th, 22XX
A Hellishly Humid Monday
-My Bedroom-


I'm drowning in sweat.

Still, though I'm sticky, drowsy and drooling, I stuff a hand beneath my pillow and fish for my phone. Somehow I manage to drag it free.


Messages From Milly Pfeifer
+2 (937) 927-1590
Milly @7:30am:
* good morning ♥ mon beau fleur
* ready for the big day?
* let's get coffee before class!


I flinch. Sunlight filters through the blinds and across the smudgy display, jarring me with its reflection. Still tangled in sweaty summer bedsheets, I roll over sideways and rub my crusty lashes clean.



Milly @7:50am:
* yehey! I made it early! (≧∇≦)/Milly @7:54am:
* I'm taking the lift down to the cafe now~
* I'm here! where are you?
* …I can't find you…Milly @7:56am:
* (」ﾟﾛﾟ)｣ < olly, olly, oxenfree~Milly @7:57am:
* uaaaaaaaaah!!
* check your phone, you big doof!!


Peeling off the blanket with an empty hand, I scroll down a column of text messages with the other. The content becomes more irritable the farther I read, but they remain true to Milly's signature style: Short, punchy, and saturated with emotes.


Milly @8:10am:
* whatever! you're too late.
* that pumpkin latte was delicious ☆Milly @8:13am:
* homeroom starts in 3min, you know…
* are you awake?
* Peony!!!
* (；￣Д￣）


I glance at the notification bar along the top of my screen. It's 9:45 — homeroom ended half an hour ago.


Milly @8:16am:
* in case you forgot, we switch buildings today.
* don't show up at E-302!!Milly @8:18am:
* there's a herd of freshmen in there now.

"… Freshmen, huh? It should be their first homeroom in the East building…"

The term 'freshmen' sparks a twinge of yearning behind my ribs. It's not that I miss being an awkward thirteen-year-old or anything. There's just something about the phrase 'high school freshman' that brings a charmingly average lifestyle to mind.

Specifically, the lifestyle that ordinary, unspectacular, oblivious youth are blessed with. The sort I was denied by being born to legendary Plague Control Agent, Lachél Szforza. The sort I'll never have as long as I possess magia vido — the 'perfect sight'.

Hmm.

My thoughts are way too dark before my first chocolate bar.

I flick my thumb upwards again. The screen refuses to scroll, confirming that I've read all of Milly's textual vomit. So much time's passed since her last message that I'm not sure it's worth responding, but then, leaving her hanging is probably worse.

I swing my legs off the side of the bed.


New Message
+2 (937) 246-7602
Peony @9:57am:
* sorry for worrying you.
* I'll show up to 3rd period.
Milly @9:57am:
* Pe~o~ny~~~~~~
* ＼（Ｔ∇Ｔ）／
* ma fleur est vivante!!
* je suis soulage!!
Peony @9:58am:
* what…?
Milly @9:58am:
* it's French ♥
* I'm happy you're alright!


My lip twitches into a smirk. At least she's not upset. Milly's more trouble than any wraith when she's angry.


Peony @9:58am:
* oh.
* petit baguette Eiffel Tower to you, too.
Milly @10:00am:
* (¬､¬)


Taking her emoticon to heart, I put the phone face-down on the nightstand and stand up to stretch. My uniform's already laid out; the smart grey pants, white socks and shirt hang over the back of my computer chair. All I need now is a shower.

"Huaaah…"

I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand.

"I guess I'd better get started, then."