Except sometimes the price you pay is being changed so that the few you see as a worthwhile sacrifice are others instead of yourself. If you break the Rules, you might find yourself turned into something New and very dangerous, someone that forgets what you once were and what you once wanted to save.
[She frowns.]
But I won't say that the Rules can't at least be bent once you learn how to do it without breaking them.
[She's learned to teach because she's been taught so often, and she doubts anyone has given them much of an example of what kind of magic they're going to face. So she offers a little lesson on the different prices you can sometimes pay.]
For instance, I know a boy that learned magic that was usually powered by the belief of a whole nation. It's powerful and dangerous and the price paid to use it is what you'd expect - one person can sometimes will something good to happen, if they're the right kind of person, but lots of people can be ignorant and hateful and easy to sway towards something awful. The risk of the magic creating something truly horrible is the toll paid to make it work.
On the other hand, an individual trying to use those magics pays another price: they can make the magic accomplish whatever they originally set out to do, with absolute certainty, but their mind turns into a nation. It splits until they have thousands of people inside themselves. But those people are similar enough to all work as one.
Still, they're forever changed. They can't do much else after that.
[A deeper frown.]
The boy lives alone in a magical woods with his twin sister and wanted to use the magic for himself, so he bent the rules. He appropriated the area they live in from a nearby kingdom, complete with a formal letter of annexation, and set up a rudimentary system of government. They call it a 'twinocracy' and formally appointed each other to different departments and bureaus they made up.
They can usually agree on what's important and so the magic does what it's supposed to do, without splitting them up inside. They're a nation of two.
But they're extremely lucky the magic works the way it does. He's a very stupid boy.
[A pause and she huffs, her cheeks slightly pink.]
Even so, I do wish I'd thought of it first.
[It's a very clever workaround. But now the magic is theirs and can't be taken by anyone else.]
no subject
[She frowns.]
But I won't say that the Rules can't at least be bent once you learn how to do it without breaking them.
[She's learned to teach because she's been taught so often, and she doubts anyone has given them much of an example of what kind of magic they're going to face. So she offers a little lesson on the different prices you can sometimes pay.]
For instance, I know a boy that learned magic that was usually powered by the belief of a whole nation. It's powerful and dangerous and the price paid to use it is what you'd expect - one person can sometimes will something good to happen, if they're the right kind of person, but lots of people can be ignorant and hateful and easy to sway towards something awful. The risk of the magic creating something truly horrible is the toll paid to make it work.
On the other hand, an individual trying to use those magics pays another price: they can make the magic accomplish whatever they originally set out to do, with absolute certainty, but their mind turns into a nation. It splits until they have thousands of people inside themselves. But those people are similar enough to all work as one.
Still, they're forever changed. They can't do much else after that.
[A deeper frown.]
The boy lives alone in a magical woods with his twin sister and wanted to use the magic for himself, so he bent the rules. He appropriated the area they live in from a nearby kingdom, complete with a formal letter of annexation, and set up a rudimentary system of government. They call it a 'twinocracy' and formally appointed each other to different departments and bureaus they made up.
They can usually agree on what's important and so the magic does what it's supposed to do, without splitting them up inside. They're a nation of two.
But they're extremely lucky the magic works the way it does. He's a very stupid boy.
[A pause and she huffs, her cheeks slightly pink.]
Even so, I do wish I'd thought of it first.
[It's a very clever workaround. But now the magic is theirs and can't be taken by anyone else.]