This is a prequel to the Gravity story I posted last month. Not sure if there is more to this character, but I’ll guess we’ll find out Tigger over the next couple of weeks.
He’d stumbled into blood magic one afternoon while trying to work a simple candle spell. He’d met someone and was going to go on a date with them but wasn’t ready to fall in love again. Not yet. Not while the wounds of his last love still oozed. So, he was trying to cast a spell that would keep his heart in check. He knew he fell too hard too fast. That was part of who he was. So a first date could quickly turn his life upside down. The spell he’d planned on attempting was supposed to mitigate that risk. But, then he’d cut himself accidently while lighting the candle and the blood had fallen on the words to the spell. So, when he read them and burned the paper, his blood burned with it.
He’d felt something then. It wasn’t like what he’d felt before when working a candle spell. It wasn’t the slight tingling of the hairs on the back of his neck like a soft breeze briefly strolling through his room. It was like something had plucked at guitar strings within his body and he vibrated with them. His whole body jittered. His mind burned. And then the feeling subsided as quickly as it had come.
His thoughts had started to put the pieces together, even then, as his eyes drifted from the candle to the knife to the wound on his hand that still pooled with the dark red blood he’d spilled a moment before. Whatever he’d just done it had been the most powerful spell he’d just worked and his blood had to be part of it. Had to be. He didn’t have time to ponder it more then. He had to get ready, shower, shave, clean up his car a bit, and then head out for the night, whatever may come.
Richard went on his date. He had a good time. He was sure his date had a good time too. He liked her but was happy to note that he hadn’t immediately fallen in love with her, and, was certain he never would fall in love with her. He found that interesting. Was it because of the spell? Or was it like a placebo effect? He had attempted the spell so whether it worked or not, his mind knew he didn’t want to fall, and therefore he wouldn’t?
Over the next couple months, he kept seeing her. He kept enjoying the time they shared together. He felt no reason to stop seeing her, even though he still knew to his very core that he would never fall in love with her. Their relationship, from his perspective anyway, would never get to that stage. He told her as much but he wasn’t sure she believed him and he knew at some point he’d have to call it off with her. He was waiting for something, though. He didn’t know what that was but he’d know it when it came.
In the meantime, when he wasn’t at work or on dates, he researched what he could about the use of blood in spells. There was, in some regards, surprisingly little on the subject. It seemed that the foundation was simple enough, but the specifics varied from caster to caster. So, the spells that needed x amount of blood for one magician would need y for a different one. There were theories about the food a caster eating impacting the spells they could cast, as if some spells required more fat or less fat in your blood, but they were all still theories from what he could find.
Never one to shy away from putting in the work himself, Richard started trying things, and keeping detailed notes along the way. It was slow going, though, as each spell required him to spill some of his blood. He had to let the wounds heal between castings so as not to alarm his friends or coworkers. It was one thing to occasionally show up with a bandaid on a finger after “cutting himself working in the garden.” It was another thing to constantly have his forearm bandaged from a wound that wouldn’t seem to heal. He didn’t need that kind of worry or attention.
So, he studied and practiced and learned, slow and steady.