Title: The Tank: Interlude: Camille POV
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Interlude: Camille POV
It was a curious, this ability of Camille’s to be surrounded
by magic and yet untouched by it. As a child, it had been something that he
regretted, quite apart from the stigma that came from not having a soul. There
was magic aplenty in the Imperial Court, much of it geared toward entertainment
for la noblesse and their families. Camille could watch a play acted out
in light and shadow, but he couldn’t feel the prickle of twilight stars against
his skin as they fell from the air onto the watchers. He could observe the
other children running through a magical maze, but Heaven forfend that he try
to enter it himself—the magic would simply cease to be wherever he encountered
it, and all the other children would cry and rail as he ruined their fun. He
still had a tiny scar just beneath his left eye from where the daughter of a marquis,
quite put out with him for accidentally spoiling a game, had thrown a blue crystal
vase at him. It had shattered against the doorframe beside his head, but a
shard of the glass still pierced his face.
The first time he’d seen this flying contraption, Camille
had refused to go onto it. At least with the tanks, if he fouled up the thaumaturgy
the worst that would happen was that he and the crew manning it would have a walk
ahead of them. If he obviated the spells powering an airship, he might fall out
of the sky. While Camille was resigned to the likely prospect of a violent
death, he refused to bring it upon himself if at all possible.
It was interesting, then, to be assured by the thaumaturge
behind the airship that Camille could fly in it with no problem. “This model’s
ability to fly is based in physics, not spellcraft,” he’d assured Camille. “The
materials that create the vacuum that expands the negative space within its
sphere are all perfectly mundane. The spells simply act as stabilizers and
improve the rate of speed.”
“Negative space?” Camille had asked. “What exactly do you
mean?”
The man had grinned. “I’m so glad you asked!” Then he
proceeded to go on at length about gases
that were lighter than air, and how he had determined that if he could create a
material that could be expanded from a perfectly empty state, the subsequent
expansion would be filled with Nothing, which would necessarily be lighter than
air and provide lift.
Camille considered himself a fair hand at most of the
sciences, but the physics of this explanation had been quite beyond him.
Nevertheless, the thaumaturge was right—the ship had lifted off with no
difficulties with him in the cabin, well away from the expanding sphere of
Nothingness above. Getting rid of any of the existing magic wouldn’t
cause any sort of problem.
Adding to it was a different story. The device would lock
into place if the stabilizing spells failed, maintaining their lift, but if the
spells were altered by another thaumaturge, things would begin to
unravel. It was best not to risk it.
Camille wondered what Anton thought of it all. I can ask…but
no, perhaps he couldn’t. Perhaps he was nothing more than a brute in the eyes
of his lover. Former lover?
He is exhausted and injured and aggrieved, and perhaps you
are so quick to take offense because you know there is more truth to his
question than you’re comfortable with. Camille knew that he was capable of
great violence, but he hoped to hold that aspect of himself away from Anton. I
would keep him in the dark about my own darkness, for as long as possible.
Unless it was forever, it wouldn’t be long enough.
The whistle sounded. All the passengers but himself had
boarded. Camille squared his shoulders and marched resolutely onto the airship.
They would have more time to talk in Paris. He would right things between them
there.
I don't remember if Camille mentioned being bullied prior to this, but geez. Kids can be mean rather than sympathetic.
ReplyDeleteThis was refreshing to get his POV and his desire to protect Anton. I never thought the relationship was one sided, but it's reassuring to read that he wants to repair it asap.