Phil DeVito

Just how much longer was he going to wait before speaking to that spirit? It had been weeks already since Thera purified it. Was he really that afraid of what might come from it? Did he do all of that work only to stop where he was, leaving everything incomplete? There was no way he could stop there and then, that… wasn’t right. The young Wayfinder let out a soft sigh, picking the scythe-turned-staff in his hands, looking at it and twirling it for a few moments – thinking on what he would do next. This certainly wasn’t something he was used to, but he had to say something to that other being. He had to bond with it in some shape or form.



The staff was brought down to the ground, planted into it before Ethan reached into his robes, pulling out… a bottle.
(Ethan Hawke)

Tink tink tink

A single finger tapped against the side of the bottle a few times, leading this white, enlightened blob of mess to shift around. Two brown dots reminiscing of eyes turned to face the young man, practically staring at him before they offered a rather angry frown. A bit of red flooded into the white blob, giving it this angry pink color. The change alone shocked Ethan, leaving him to drop the aforementioned wine bottle on the ground.

Shatter.

A burst of energy suddenly exploded outwards from the point of impact, rays of white light and black smoke engulfed the area with quite some might. Whatever Ethan had awakened, it seemed… bad.
(Ethan Hawke)

Cough cough

Terror, fear and an incredible feeling of dread overcame the magi. What was he going to do if the spirit decided to tear him a new one? What could he even do if it decided to just up and leave? And… wait, was it coughing? Spirits don’t breathe, right?

"Wow, great job, you finally did it. How many more years were you going to spend just staring at me, big guy?"

Harsh, abrasive words came out of the smoke as it cleared, up. Ethan was looking up – ahead, but all he could see was the horizon. His eyes peered down for a moment, noticing just what he had released: A short, stout, balding old man, no taller than five feet and with a belly that may just scream he loved beer. Weren’t spirits supposed to be big and scary, or strong and heroic? This… was something else. What had the Wayfinder gotten himself into?
(Ethan Hawke)

"What… the… What are you?"

The young blue-haired man asked, brushing away some smoke that had spilled out, looking towards the short spirit in a great deal of confusion.

"What am— A spirit, genius! What, did you expect a dragon or something? Idiot."

"But- Spirits are- What?"

"Yeah? Spirit are what?" The stout man asked, frowning and pulling up metaphorical sleeves from his naked forearms.

Naked? Wait, he wasn’t even wearing a shirt! Ethan could see the guy’s hairy, protruding belly in all of its might and without anything blocking his view. Why was this guy not wearing a shirt? He looked more like some sort of dwarven bear than anything else, how disgusting.

"I… thought you’d be more impressive." Ethan admitted.
(Ethan Hawke)

"Impressive? Have ya looked at yourself you bonobo-looking idiot? You’re fumbling around and showing the world how much of a bumbling womanizer you are, and I’d know, I’ve been watching you for years!" The spirit exclaimed, stomping around as he looked at his surroundings, seemingly angry that Ethan would dare do this in the maple groves. Couldn’t he have picked a more exotic location?

"Oh… yeah, uh… I mean—"

"Spare the excuses. I know them all. You just don’t wanna marry, you can’t trust a woman, all that stuff, that’s all good. I don’t care, you’re the one missing out on happiness. Look, kid, I’ve heard you practicing a speech for weeks, and I’ll tell you right away that I’ll help-"

"Thanks!" Ethan replied enthusiastically, leading the stout spirit to frown and grow red once more due to being interrupted.

"-But you need to clean your act up, and you need to have something in it for me, got it?"

"… I mean, I did free you, so…"
(Ethan Hawke)

"Oh, so you free spirits kid? Well, whoop-dee-doo. I have been around the block before with blockheads just like you." Was he breaking into a straight up musical? Yes. Yes he was.

"Each and everyone a disappointment, pain for which there ain’t no ointment. So much for excuses. As tough a wayfinder is, asking me to do this freely? My answer is—"

The spirit stopped, turning to face Ethan and instead being met by the staff that had been planted into the ground. This monstrosity turned wonder was something else to look at, really. His eyes reflected the golden light being emitted, only for the answer to be spoken out loud.

"I want that staff."
(Ethan Hawke)

An opening. With how fast this one came Ethan had to take it, he didn’t know if anything else would fancy the spirit’s needs and wants, and if he’d manage to keep the guy around by turning him down. The deal was put forth.

"You can live in that staff. For a while, at least— I still gotta accomplish a few things of my own and I figured you could help with those, yeah? How about that: You help me by binding yourself to that staff and casting spells with me, and I’ll give you the staff when I die. Sounds good?"

The stout spirit shook his head.

"And you didn’t even bother asking me for my name before tryin’ to strike a stinkin’ deal like that. You really are the worst, Ethan."

"Wait how do you— oh, right. You’ve been in a bottle the entire time. Huh…"

"Yup." The spirit answered, only to follow up with more. "I’ve seen you fail a lot, but this may be the worst. I guess I still owe you for not usin’ meto spike a drink or leaving me behind, but all you’ll get from that is my name:

Phil."
(Ethan Hawke)

A name. That’s all that Ethan really deserved in the end, wasn’t it? He was supposed to be nice and try to bond with that spirit, but this strange guy completely lead the conversation, making everything about him right away. Crap, Ethan still hadn’t responded.

"Well, if you’re gonna stare off in the distance and admire me, I guess that I’ll have to set the terms of this contract, yeah? I’ll allow you to pull from my great powers and live in your cozy weapon as long as it falls in my hands when you die." Phil said, pulling out a contract from god-knows-where, written in the smallest font possible.

"Here, sign here, here and there. Then all you’re gonna have to do is ask that babe Reito to manipulate me and all."

An expression of disgust and confusion was offered to the Spirit at that comment.
(Ethan Hawke)

"… Sure. As long as you feed mana into my spells, we’ve got a deal." The Wayfinder finally said. His first thoughts were to make the spirit itself learn Wayfinding to assist him, but that wasn’t really possible with someone like Phil, was it? The circle connecting the foci to the spirit world was good enough on its own, with more mana at his disposal, Ethan’s spells were bound to be greater.

"I’m gonna be where your staff channels its powers, what do you think I’m gonna do, numbskull?" The fat balding man asked, pushing the contract closer to Ethan and forcing him to sign it.

All in all, it went way better than he had expected. Even if Phil… didn’t seem the most capable in battle. A visit to Reito was needed.
(Ethan Hawke)