Practical

Practical. You figure every man needed a word that summed them up. Summed up their principles, what they believed in. Practical fit you perfectly. When you grow up with no family around it helps to be practical. So why was it that all the other children just let the world pass them by. Only you and Rafa ever seemed to get it. You can't afford the payment for the fruits? You take it. Why go hungry when you have the ability in your hands to change things for the better?
It was that kind of thinking that always made you wonder about Golios. He was a good enough friend, sure, but he spent his days with his head in a book. Sure Amy was a bit of a goody-twoshoes, but at least her time was spent honing her body. Girl could lift heavy shit. What could Golios do but recite what year the owl people were created?
That's how you used to think about him anyway. After a while though, you had been stealing glances at his old books. Peaks turned into genuine questions, and around the time Rafa became a man of the cloth for a god that wasn't even divine, you realized there may be something practical to all this magic stuff. Here a guy you grew up with was channeling magic from a guy who used to be the same as you. So why couldn't you add a bit of it to your arsenal?
You snap your head left. Golios keeps turning in his sleep tonight, and its making your secret nightly practice a bit stressful. Worst of all, Amy is still awake outside, so you know it'll only be a bit longer before you have to pretend to be asleep again. You chant under your breath the words and work the signs you know until finally you see it. In your mind you picture a hand, not a part of your body but a part of you nonetheless. The tent flap is open just an inch, but its enough to see that Amy has put the new sword down and begun praying. Now's your chance!
You focus, and with the hand you grip the hilt of the sword. Heavy. Heavy is the word. This isn't practical at all, in this thing's hand that sword feels like it weighs a literal ton. You take a deep breath. You mumble the words one more time and with all your mental focus you press forward. Suddenly, the sword goes up. Floating in front of you and behind your praying friend's back is the legendary sword Salamandra. Finally. Looks like all that practice payed off.
Suddenly lightening strikes. You heard the thunder rolling, but you never figured something conductive would catch. And of all the things it could hit it hit the god damn sword. Flames leap from the steel as you fall back into bed and pretend to snore, one eye slightly open. That was a close one, but hey, you lifted it. Looks like this magic stuff may yet prove practical.