Wizard Ate My Cheese

Originally posted on tumblr here January 24, 2019:

writing-prompt-s:

It’s 3 AM and you are heading to the kitchen to consume the shredded cheese as usual. Unusually, a wizard in full robes is there, already eating the cheese.

I swiped my hand across my face, trying to rub the sleepiness away. “If you eat all my fucking cheese, I will cut you,” I said. The old hound dog padded in beside me, then whuffed at the scene, went to the wizard and nose touched him, whuffed again, and went and curled up in the big dog bed by the couch.

It would be more reassuring if Thor weren’t, like, the biggest baby ever. He likes everyone, he’s the worst guard dog in the world.

The wizard glanced at me. There was… not a lot left in the bag. He passed me the bag, without saying a word, and I plunged my hand in.

I worked my way through a mouthful of cheese, trying to figure out how to handle. You know. Whole ass wizard in my kitchen. “So, what’s up?”

“A long story,” he muttered into his beard.

I swallowed a mouthful, and open the bag carefully, sliding the rest of the cheese into my mouth. There was most of a bag of this earlier today, I’m pretty sure, but based on the expression on his face, he needed it more than me. I stand there for a minute, and consider just going to bed. 

Honestly, though, I’m curious as hell.

“You still hungry?” I asked him. 

He looked at me, and nodded.

“I’ll cook us some omelets if you’ll tell me your story.”

He seems to consider it for a minute, then nods.

“Any dietary restrictions?”

“No.”

Now, in all honesty, my omelets are much more like ‘scrambled eggs with toppings’ than actual omelets, but if this poor guy is eating cheese out of my fridge I sincerely doubt he can do much better.

“Turn the light on?” I say, assuming if he’s comfortable snatching cheese out of my fridge he can find a damn light switch while I hunt butter and milk and eggs out of the fridge. No onion, but I had scallions and there’s some leftover roast beef that is verging on ‘use it or lose it’ territory. 

The overhead light flickered on, and I started the pan getting hot and cracking eggs.

“So, what brings you here, specifically?”

“Your house was closest, and I thought you’d be asleep.”

I turn and point a fork to him. “If I’d woken up with no cheese in my fridge, I’d have been pretty pissed off.”

He shrugged. “I already gave your dog five more years of good health.”

I glanced at Thor, who was steadily snoring. “Really?”

“Strengthened his heart and joints, put off some medical problems. Five years from the natural end of his life, not from now, to be clear.”

“Okay.” I frowned. Tossed the pot roast back in the fridge and pulled out the steaks. I was planning on eating them later but, hell, I believed the guy and that earned him a steak. “Alright, that’s fine. Tell me what’s up.”

“You know your neighbor to the north?”

“The one who’s always pitching a fit about the fence?” I asked. “Jim or something?”

“Necromancer. Not the ‘help the dead and grieving find comfort and safety’ type, the ‘raise the unwilling dead’ type.”

I ran some mental numbers. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath. “They’re the same type, I mean, the magic is the same. It’s all about mindset. And really most necromancers are good people, respectful to the dead and living. A good necromancer, someone who understands death and grief, they can be very powerful and grow to a great age. They’re wise and know that death comes for us all. I have a few good years left in me, but I know one day I’ll face death, myself.”

“The human condition, right?” I glance at the dog. “Well. The condition for life, in general, I guess.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “He was going to try to raise an army of zombies and cause a nightmare scenario.”

“So…”

“I had to kill him.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“He rezzed, so I had to kill him again.”

“So, rough night?”

He sighed. “Long one, anyway.”

“Sure.”

“Also. When magic users die, their gifts pass on. Sometimes it’s to a close family member, sometimes it’s to a good friend. It’s to the person closest to us, you see?”

“Right.”

“But if we don’t have anybody close emotionally, the magic defaults to the closest person, you know. Physically.”

I froze for a second, and then slapped the steaks down in the pan. “So. I’m going to guess that the evil necromancer and all around bastard of a person- I met him a couple of times, he was a class a jerk- did not have any close friends or family members.”

“Right.”

“And you said my house…”

“Yes.”

“…that’s why you gave my dog a few extra years.”

“Once you settle into your powers, rezzing your dog won’t be so tempting. Also, he’s a good boy.”

The dog’s tail thumped twice.

“…yeah, he is.” 

“You’ll need some training.”

“Sure. Let me get these omelets done first, though. And I think I need some coffee before I process this.”

“That, my young lady, is very fair. I, too, could use some.”

TL;DR: apparently I’m a necromancer, but so far mostly I’ve used it to revive that one rosebush that caught the rose bush fungus plague that was going around