Xaviers!

"I'd show you my world. Shining, shimmering, splendid."

"Are you going to take me on a magical carpet ride then? Because that's an enchantment I'd love to see," Sean smiled.

"I think enchanting the furniture is your ballywick. I just can fake it."

"You can become a flying carpet?" Sean asked.

"What? No no no. Just a regular one. Flying carpets aren't real."

"Become a carpet and I can make you fly," Sean said confidently.

"Yeah, no offense, Sean, but if you want to practice enchanting a W...one of us, you're going to have to track down the other one.

He might like you cleaning your boots on him as a carpet, but that's not my bag."

"No offense taken," Sean said, "Flight though is a relatively simple spell. It's the controlling the flying is the hard part."

Sean paused.

"He's not much of one for boundaries then I take it. Just kind of does whatever it is people want? Seems a bit risky really."

The boy sighed. "No, he's not one for boundaries at all. Which, if you ask me, is unhealthy, more than 'risky', per se.

He gives himself into the sensations, and damn the consequences. He's a junkie."

"So he's addicted to sensation? Or to being everybody's welcome mat?" Sean asked.

"Either. Both. You choose.

When we shift, our senses...twist, for lack of a word...to fit the new form. So, like, as I'm standing here right now, I'd hate it if you shoved your sweaty armpit in my face. If I were, however, to shift into a sweat rag or a stick of deodorant or something, the sensations would be different -- it's an 'intended' sensation, and it feels good, being used 'properly'. I can't deny it! It's a good day out.

It's also humiliating and embarrassing and more than a little gross for most people. It's demeaning and part of the reason why I wanted to be considered distinct from him, because yeah. No.

And being everyone's welcome mat is him feeling sorry for himself. Oh, boo hoo, I'm no good for anyone as a person, all my friends and family are a bajillion miles away; the only thing I'm good for is scraping the mud off of someone's shoes. Give me a break."

"And what about you? What do you want?" Sean asked.

"Well, one day, I'd like to go home. I'm sure I've got a top scientist mind working on it.

I'd like to have a rematch with Sam and company, and prove what kind of warrior I actually am. I'd like to stand victorious on the battlefield."

"Suppose defeating the Pagan Goddess of War in a grudge match would do that," Sean said, "Proving yourself I certainly understand, but I think a battlefield might be hard to find unless you are going to join an actual army."

"You'd be surprised where you can find a fight, and what the Goddess of War might consider a battlefield."

"All life is a battlefield then," Sean said, "Makes sense I guess. Are you going to try and follow her then? See if she'll take you into the fold?"

"Nah. I've seen true greatness. She looks like my daughter in her daddy's clothes."

"You mean the Morrigan back in your universe then," Sean said, pausing. "I didnt realize you had a family. How much further along is your universe?"

"A good decade and a half. And, of course, some people have a bigger head start there than others.

I was a young boy when I first saw Sam in action, with the Avengers. She was much older than me; an inspiration."

"She's why you became a hero then?" Sean asked.

The boy paused.

"Not specifically, no...but I mean, she was one of the big guns. Helps a young shifter to have them on TV, right?"

"Probably got much more positive coverage in your universe then," Sean said dryly, "Not that every mutant growing up doesn't want to be an X-Man. Even I did until I learned I wasnt a mutant."

"Well, you snuck in here alright. I'm sure you've got some magic charm to fool the X-Men."

"More like the Headmistress is waiting for some evidence I'm not a mage at all," Sean smiled. "That and a perception altering charm like that is much more difficult than just bribing a tech at a genetics test facility. People trust test results and paper trails."

"Good lord, do they ever," the boy sighed. "We'll have to work on an Obfuscate Bureaucracy spell."

Sean chuckled.

""That spell is called money," Sean said, "But I can get to work on the Bureaucracy spell right as soon as I'm done turning straw into gold. Though that's more of a challenge trying to find a way around Midas'... let's just say even magic has limits. Sometimes. Depends on if you're some kind of Elder God or not."

"Money's rarely a problem; figuring out how to apply it is.

And what sorts of limits does magic have? What can't you do?"

"Magic requires you to be able to hold incredibly complex patterns of thought together, stitching together the components of the reality you want to make," Sean said, "The words give a path, a focus, form a contract. I guess that means the biggest limit is your ability to think. Another is simply how much energy can you wield. Do you have enough internal energy for great workings or are you really good at manipulating the weave of magic that exists all around us. You can game the system a bit with proper sacrifices like human life or blood. You draw too much energy for your mind or body to handle, you die. You explode, catch on fire, shrivel up, or in one of lots of other creative and painful ways."

Sean paused trying to bring together his thoughts.

"Different spells require different things. Different amounts of energy to make what you intend to happen, well happen. If you want to turn a goat into a fire breathing dragon that takes more energy than say... just making a fireball. The right words can ease the way, like the true names of objects or elements or people make spells easier."

"Theoretically none of that matters for beings made of magic or who have vast reservoirs of latent energy or enough contracts with those kinds of beings to have access to vast reservoirs of energy. I am just a normal mage, so I can't just rewrite reality. No bringing things back from the dead or turning back time or binding Godesses apparently."

"There are also just dozens of paradoxes about how some things don't go the way they should. Like turning straw into gold."

"Don't sell yourself short; you almost bound a Goddess. With the right words...or the right sigils...you might just have pulled it off."

"Maybe, might have had an easier time if I'd just laid into her with offensive magic from the start," Sean said, "Appreciate the vote of confidence though, aye."

"You want me to show you how to get the Morrigan's attention?"

""How's that?" Sean asked

"There's a couple ways to do it. An offering of roast meat with a little blood, and the right words is often enough to draw her attention; that's the more modern way to do it without requiring a blood sacrifice or something.

You can also get more...personal. I was carving a glyph into my hand just before the match ended."

"A glyph? What kind of glyph?" Sean asked sounding intrigued.

"A series of three interlocking spirals. It was first found at the Fulacht na Morrigna, if you're looking into that sort of thing.

I was carving it on my hand, and was going to slide into the ring and beseech her to hear my request. I figured that it would at least distract her enough for you to, like, punch her in the face or something."

"I am into that sort of thing, yes," Sean said, "That might have worked. Only needed a single strong blow it seemed."

Sean paused.

"Can you draw the interlocking spirals?"

"Absolutely, though you'll forgive me if I use paper and not, you know, my hand," he smirked.

Sean chuckled.

"I mean if you think not using your blood is sufficient I suppose it'll be alright," Sean smirked.

"Well, we wouldn't want to call the Morrigan in right now, would we?" the boy smirked.

Getting the DR to summon a pad of paper and a pen, Null carefully started drawing a series of spirals -- three complicated, labyrinthine circles, joining together in a middle, central point.