202X
25 years later
_____
It's 10 in the morning, and Phillip had opened his doors to clients for the first time ever. He planned to use a neat little side room in the front of his brownstone to hold meetings. "I won't need to pay another bill to rent out an office space and I can nap between clients," he told his friends when they'd asked for details.
He had a black and gold plaque on his front door that he genuinely hoped was worth the money.
Phillip Brunel, Esq
Geas Contract Services.
The name, Geas, came to him after reading up on Irish folklore— what was more important, though, is that the name was an eye catcher.
…At least, he thought it was. It didn't occur to him until a few hours after putting up the plaque that people generally don't walk into random buildings just because the sign was pretty. He sat in his living-room-turned waiting room all day hoping for a knock on the door, and what he got was jack shit.
He knew he'd get business eventually, that wasn't the issue. The problem was that he was impatient. It was a habit his parents weren't able to break before they died, but that had its benefits for someone like Phillip. As long as he was making a plan, he could wait for as long as necessary, but the minute it was time to see that plan in action, he could barely sit still.
It was a sight to behold when he got like that in public. He was 6'5, but cursed with a mean slouch that took a solid 2 inches off of his height. He was big like his father, but his muscles lacked definition. Even still, most people wouldn't be able to tell how soft he actually was because there was always a sort of tension lurking just behind his skin. The average person wouldn't be able to tell if he was going to blow up in anger or crumple in on himself. He was only like that when he was impatient, and unfortunately for him, he always had a big plan boiling in the background.
In this case, he had his biggest stretch of tension since applying for law school. Not many people opened up private practices, let alone only 3 years after graduation, and worse yet his client base was notoriously hard to get into contact with. Of course, he would accept anyone as long as they could pay, but he had very specific ideas in mind for what he wanted his life to look like from here on, and the average joe could only get him so far. The average joe that would walk into a random building on the street because they saw the neat little "Esquire" at the end of his name on the plaque... another spasm gripped Phillip's legs and forced him to stand in frustration.
Phillip sighed and began to stretch. It was almost 8 at night before he decided to give in. He got up to lock the door, dejected, but not defeated. That is, until he hopped in fear (and eventually excitement) at an impatient knock on the door.
Silently celebrating, he opened it. He expected someone taller from how hard she knocked. A lady, couldn't have been older than 20, stood just outside with her arms crossed. She looked as if she'd been waiting all day even though he answered immediately.
"Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to Gea—"
"Is there somewhere I can sit? I've been walking for hours and I swear if I stand any longer, I'll murder somebody." Phillip cursed himself. His first client, and she seemed like a bitch. He stepped back from the door to give her space to walk in and pointed to his couch. She still waited impatiently. "Come in," he said, and the lady pushed past him to look around. Once she seemed satisfied, she sat down and checked her phone.
"Is there anything I can help you with…?" Phillip awkwardly stood by the door, holding it open. In the back of his mind he hoped she took the hint and walked back outside.
"Give me a minute to catch my breath." The woman didn't seem to be exerting herself, but she had pulled out her phone and started scrolling. Her nails tapped the screen with a speed that could only have been trained into her like some sort of martial art. When she found what she was looking for, she shoved the phone in Phillips face and told him "I found your place online. I have a coupon, too." Phillip had completely forgotten about the discount… she didn't seem like his target client, and unfortunately, she wasn't going to be paying full price either. Damn.
"I don't think this room is the best place to do business, ma'am. Come on over here. If we're fast enough, we could even get you settled before the day ends!" The front door shut, and honestly, he felt like whatever this girl was about to sign up for was more than deserved. He pointed to his home office and stepped inside, leaving the door open for her. She passed by him nearly instantly and took a seat in the nice leather chair in front of his desk.
I have to start somewhere, I guess, he thought to himself. Phillip sat across from the woman and decided that he'd skip the small talk. He pulled out a tablet and slid it across the table, opening his own laptop while his new client began reading what was on screen.
"So, where'd you hear of me from?"
"Again, I found your ad online. It was a stroke of luck that I was able to see you on such short notice. Most people like you don't take walk-ins." She quickly started filling out the paperwork on the tablet. "Before you ask me what I'm here for, let me tell you the short of it. You provide a service I need." Phillip nodded, and began to type out his notes. Just as fast as she started, the lady finished putting her information on the tablet. She tapped her fingers on the desk impatiently as he typed her response, and the ring she wore pinged against the wood made the noise more frustrating.
"Is it a… business contract you need me to write up? A preliminary meeting before bringing in another partner? Maybe you're about to buy a house… or file for divorce?" he snuck a glance at her ring. She was without a doubt the divorce-able type, and he knew that in his soul.
She stopped tapping when she heard his last compliment. She tapped twice more and he felt his desk shake more than it should from just her fingers. "No. This is a more personal matter," she spat. She lifted her hand to adjust her ring, and he noticed the dents it made on the desk. Phillip was mad, but he didn't let it show. He wrote her response, just as vague as every other one she's given so far. Something was off about her and it'd take an idiot not to notice. Aside from her bad attitude, something was up, and he'd just realized what.
"Are you familiar with my… brand of contract?" He leaned back in his seat, relaxing himself despite his annoyance. Her face had changed a bit in response. He could see a smile forming on her face, but her mood tore it back like a rabid animal.
"Yes, I am, although it's been a long, long time since I've seen it in action." Phillip's mood was turning, too. Turns out he didn't have to wait long for a big client. He turned off the computer and began to speak more openly.
"You aren't normal, are you?" He asked the question calmly. He was rude, but he knew he was going to be fine. It definitely didn't hurt to get a tiny bit of payback for her attitude. The woman relaxed, herself. The mirror beside her reflected her chair leaning back.
"If I had to be honest? No. I'm not 'normal.'" she said. She turned to the mirror in surprise. She hadn't realized it was there. Phillip smiled, not at all hiding his excitement.
Magic wasn't as common in the world nowadays. Everything was modern, with modern comforts and modern sensibilities. There was hardly any use for magic, and even if there was, most people with the ability to use it had no clue they could, or lacked a teacher to start. It was hard to recognize something (or someone) as magical, and for all he tried, Phillip had never managed to find anyone else with any abilities, at least in the wild. It was far from his first time meeting something magical, but each time before had been controlled, expected. This was anything but that.
"…Perfect. If that's the case, I won't need to explain much." Phillip grabbed a plain pen and paper, making a few swirls in the top corner to be sure the ink wasn't dry. "You know, I'll need you to tell me your name."
"Arleen Farrier." She waited. Uncomfortably long. Phillip stared at her, with an unamused face. She almost began to tap her finger again, before Phillip explained further.
"Look, 'Arleen,' I'm trying to move this along as fast as possible. You should know that my kind of magic is precise, and quite honestly, petty. You could've been going by that name for most of your life, but that's not what I'm asking for. You know what I need." Phillip let his words hang in the air. Arleen could use this opportunity to do whatever she wanted, and he knew that. Any response she gave would do something, as long as she claimed the name. Phillip's spasms relaxed, and Arleen took an immediate notice. The woman huffed. He assumed she had waited long for this opportunity, and so Phillip clarified what he meant one last time.
"I need your real name. Your true name." She balled up her fists, but remembered what she came for, and forced herself to relax. Phillip would be patient. He was human, capable of infinite amounts of forgiveness. Everyone heard the stories of what people would do for a chance at the things they desired.
Minutes passed before Arleen spoke. She'd finally decided.
[Ⱖⶌ➽⦾ⷣ⽥⩟.]
She spoke a name so ancient that even she had almost forgotten it. What was surprising to her was that Phillip wrote it without missing a beat. A chill ran through the room. 'Arleen' felt it too, which startled her— the cold was foreign to her. Whatever was about to happen, she knew it would work.
"Well, Arleen, let me give you a refresher as to how this works. We set terms with each other, you pay me, and we both walk away from this happier people. I don't need to tell you the risk of a failed contract, do I?"
"No, sir."
"Good. Now, what's your request?"