I had no luck with the cart, and instead spent a bit of my bonus to get a couple of first year students to help me get my trunk and goods to the train station. Once there I can pay a porter to load my items onto the next train heading to Pleichston, my hometown. I’ve saved up quite a bit by my standards, but it would not even be enough for more than a season of study at the Omniology. Then again, after today's tumultuous events, I’m not all that interested in going there. I’ve stumbled (face first, as it happens) onto a different path, and everything I learned in two lives is telling me this path will be hard, and it will require me to build a better version of me. No more dabbling, no more excuses. It’s time to knuckle up.

First things first, I must get home. En route, I can work to recover my energy. I don’t have a nice handy meter, but I can at least tell when my depleted status has been removed. I stop by the washroom and clean up my face as best I can. It’s going to turn into some interesting colors in the next few hours, but at least it won’t include “caked-on blood spatters”. Just washing up leaves me slightly winded, this isn’t good.

Once I get to the train station, I locate the ticket office. “One ticket to Pleichston for the next departure, please.”

My luck has improved, and there is a late commuter train heading out in a few hours. One ticket and a portage fee later, I’ve used up just over half of my severance payout, but I won’t have to worry about tending my luggage.

With a few hours to spare, a gnawing pain in my belly, and a throbbing headache, I spend a bit more of my severance money on some food from a street vendor just outside the station. Toasted billnuts, tossed in a light honey glaze. It’s a bit of a splurge, but it will provide quite a bit of protein and fats, as well as some simple carbs for an immediate energy lift. I justify it as being better for overall energy than many of the other options, but the real story is I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself and they are delicious. I eat a handful immediately. A low moan of pleasure escapes me.

It takes some willpower, but I manage to slowly work my way through the bag of nuts, chewing each nut individually and slowly after the first handful. I meditate as I eat them, focusing on slow, even breathing, and the steady throb of my heartbeats, even chewing in time to the beat of my heart. As I tune out the noise of the station, I am suddenly surprised when I reach for the next nut and they are all gone. I feel an odd sensation, and come out of my trance-like state, looking up at the station clock to discover that just about an hour has passed. Checking my status, the depleted tag is still present, but the modifier has dropped from -4 to -2, and I notice that I feel less hollow than I did before the trance began. I’m still tired, but it feels more like the tired after a long week rather than the bone deep exhaustion of pulling 12 hour shifts for several weeks straight. Yes, I’m using the old world terms. I’ve never had to work that hard here.

I contemplate getting up and purchasing more nuts, but home is only a few hours away, another hour or so until the train ride, an hour on the train, because of 2 stops between here and home, and then 30 minutes or so to hire a hansom and have it take me and my bags home. More importantly, I’m not earning, so I gotta be thrifty, comfort snacks aside.

I’m still a bit noodle-legged as I climb onto the train and take my seat on the commuter. My eyes are heavy, too and the rhythmic thumping of the tracks lulls me into slumber. I awaken briefly at each of the two stops, drowsily check my status, noting that concussed damage has halved by the second stop, a good sign, since that means I don’t have any lasting damage, which is possible with any head trauma. Nevertheless the ailment remains there even when I wake for my stop. I blearily drag myself off the train to collect my baggage.

Finding the hansom turns out to be easier than expected, with a small line of them waiting for passengers to debark from the train. Wrangling the trunk and bags into the second passenger seat was a bit tricky, so I remind myself to tip the cabby for the help, give him my home address and settle in for the ride.

It’s late, it’s dark, and it’s getting cold when I arrive. I clamber out of the cab, pay the cabby and offer a 25% tip on the ride for his assistance getting everything out and to the door. Once there, I pull the cable, eliciting a mellow ringing from the bell mounted inside.

A few moments later, the door opens.

“Hey mom, I’m home.”

She hugs me, which I awkwardly enjoy. It’s comforting, welcoming, and slightly soothes the tightness in my chest. Yes, I know, I got laid off, but it still feels like a personal failure. Home is where you go and they have to take you in. Thankfully that holds true for me.

“It’s so good to see you. What happened?” Her hand comes up to my cheek.

In my slightly fuzzy state, it took a moment to process what she was talking about.

“Oh, um, I fell.”

“Clumsy boy!”

“Moooom.”

“Fine, clumsy young man!”

“Thank you.” She looks at the pile of stuff beside me.

“I take it from all the luggage that there’s been a bit of a problem?”

“Budget cuts at the research institute. Last in, first out, but that’s life-o.” There’s a stacking joke there, some of my old-world computer programmer humor coming out in my tired and still wonky state.

“Well, don’t just stand there, dear, come in, come in! Honey, guess who’s home!”

An odd feeling envelops me as I step into my home. Something I hadn’t quite realized I missed. Shelter. Protection. Love. All mixed together. I will continue down the path to mastery of myself and of this world’s magic, but tonight and the next few days will be about family. They deserve more from me than the distant, self-absorbed person I’ve been. The comfort of contact and the feeling of being at home again forced me to own up to my folly.

I had to face that my disconnection from everything has been short-sighted and based in fear. I have been given a second shot at life, and I’m not following the advice I was given.

I am wasting it.

I’m spending some of it on magic, but the rest of it isn’t really living, I’m just marking time and avoiding pain. I might as well be waiting for my death if I’m not going to BE here. I’ve already been down that path at the end of my last life. Why am I doing it again? It’s time for a different path.

I have two clear goals to pursue, one personal and one, well I guess it’s professional, but perhaps vocational is better. It’s the task that I feel I was uniquely suited to accomplish.

Personally, I need to face my fear of loss. I know it’s coming, but that cannot continue to dominate my existence. I need to stop protecting myself with such thick and heavy armor. I must move from surviving back to living again. I have no idea how I’m going to get there, but I must. It’s cruel to my parents, and it’s only hurting me too.

Vocationally, I’m going to master magic. I’m going to figure out how to make it useful. Then I’m going to figure out how to teach it to others, and I’m going to do it without using it as a way to hide from the world. Whatever I have to learn, my will shall become the master of my emotions and my body so that I can do big, fast magic again. This time, I’m aiming to do it without the whole passing out and busting my face open parts.