by Kayla Bashe
Okay, maybe it’s not the playwright’s best work, but it’s fun, and that’s what matters.
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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A magnificent brown-skinned nonbinary performer with regal cheekbones, whose stage name is the Goddex Diane, dances a passionate modern solo about the death of a sacred heron to the sound of a high voice singing ritual chants over a violin’s strains.
You feel each sweep of their arms, even in stillness exquisite, and vow to cultivate such grace yourself.
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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ReLOVEution is made up of two women who call themselves “The Queen” and “Right Hand Doll.”
They cultivate the personae of two performative revolutionary leaders whose fierce love helps them lead a movement to destroy a fascist tyrant.
They spit words like fire, dance as perfectly as androids, and all of their songs have at least one line that you love so much you want to scrawl it across everything you own. You and your friends exit whooping and energized. The pink glitter that rained down from the ceiling to symbolize the blood of reLOVEution’s enemies clings to your skin and hair and clothes, and you catch yourselves sparkling in every window.
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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Awareness comes back to you slowly. You register the existence of light, of concerned faces around you when you blink your eyes open. Slowly, the faces become clearer, develop individual identities: Malou, Char, Shani.
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"What happened?"
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"What's going on?"
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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“You fainted.” Malou says bluntly. “Too much magic, not enough pausing to eat snacks and drink water. I’ll get you some freeze-dried rations—or an energy bar. You’ll be up and fighting in no time, I promise.” She’s so serious that it puts a smile on your face.
“Yeah, you must have tired yourself out,” Shani says. “You toppled right over. I’m so glad you’re okay!” she adds, hugging you. “Do you want me to get you a milkshake?”
Char sits on the edge of the bed and ruffles your hair. “You looked so pale when you were unconcious—it’s not a good color for you. I totally freaked out.”
As you sip warm rooibos tea and nibble pieces of buttery roasted zucchini, you manage to fit together some details about current events. A few hours ago, every magical girl got a sudden burst of energy. They were able to fight more valiantly, aim their attacks more accurately, and shrug off more injuries than ever. Working together, everyone was able to repel the current wave of invasions, and it’ll probably be another year or two—at least!—before things get that bad again.
“Imagine what you could do for the militia of my hometown,” Malou says, a faraway gleam in her pretty dark eyes.
“You know it’s mainly thanks to you, Verdie,” Shani says quietly. “We know. Do you think you’d want other people to know, though?”
You tuck a stray curl behind your ear.
“I…I think so. It might be a lot of hard work, but I want to help as many people as I can—to make sure that Castle Vestri will never happen again. No one will have to fight alone while I’m alive.” By the end of the speech, you’re yawning again, so you curl back up and close your eyes.
“And you’ll never have to fight alone, either,” someone—you’re too sleepy to tell who—informs you, their presence a balm.
Castle Vestri…never again.
I can let go.
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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“Well, we were waiting for you to wake up,” Char says. “But you’re awake, so everything’s okay now.” She smiles at you.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Shani says breathlessly.
“That was incredible,” says Malou. Then, revising her statement: “You are incredible.”
As you sip peppermint tea and nibble a vegetable omelette, you manage to fit together some details about current events. A few hours ago, every magical girl got a sudden burst of energy. They were able to fight more valiantly, aim their attacks more accurately, and shrug off more injuries than ever. Working together, everyone was able to repel the current wave of invasions, and it’ll probably be another year or two—at least!—before things get that bad again.
“And I think a little bird here had something to do with it,” Char teases, nudging you.
“We won,” you say modestly, brushing a stray curl back behind your ear. “That’s what matters.”
“Yeah, but you really should tell everyone about what you can do,” Shani says, excitement bubbling in her voice. “Lending another warrior strength remotely—no one since Maona has gotten the hang of that. Maybe you could even teach other people the technique, too.”
You imagine how your younger self would have felt about that. Verdie at twelve, a wisp of frightened gray eyes and storm-tossed curls, holding back an invasion by herself. What would it have felt like if someone, no matter how far away, had rested an insubstantial hand on her shoulder? Told her “We’re here for you, you’re not fighting alone. Let us support you, let us teach you how to get through this.” What would that have meant?
Everything, you think. It would have meant everything.
And something in you that’s been curled up nursing its hurts for far too long unfurls like a bloom in spring or a kite in the wind. Now I can rest.
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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“You fainted.” Malou says bluntly. “Too much magic, not enough pausing to eat snacks and drink water. I’ll get you some freeze-dried rations—or an energy bar. You’ll be up and fighting in no time, I promise.” She’s so serious that it puts a smile on your face.
“Yeah, you must have tired yourself out,” Shani says. “You toppled right over. I’m so glad you’re okay!” she adds, hugging you. “Do you want me to get you a milkshake?”
Char sits on the edge of the bed and ruffles your hair. “You looked so pale when you were unconcious—it’s not a good color for you. I totally freaked out.”
As you sip warm rooibos tea and nibble pieces of buttery roasted zucchini, you manage to fit together some details about current events. A few hours ago, every magical girl got a sudden burst of energy. They were able to fight more valiantly, aim their attacks more accurately, and shrug off more injuries than ever. Working together, everyone was able to repel the current wave of invasions, and it’ll probably be
another year or two—at least!—before things get that bad again.
“Imagine what you could do for the militia of my hometown,” Malou says, a faraway gleam in her pretty dark eyes.
“You know it’s mainly thanks to you, Verdie,” Shani says quietly. “We know. Do you think you’d want other people to know, though?”
You tuck a stray curl behind your ear.
“I…I think so. It might be a lot of hard work, but I want to help as many people as I can—to make sure that Castle Vestri will never happen again. No one will have to fight alone while I’m alive.” By the end of the speech, you’re yawning again, so you curl back up and close your eyes.
“And you’ll never have to fight alone, either,” someone—you’re too sleepy to tell who—informs you, their presence a balm.
Castle Vestri…never again.
I can let go.
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Please turn back a page
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Please turn forward a page
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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“Well, we were waiting for you to wake up,” Char says. “But you’re awake, so everything’s okay now.” She smiles at you.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Shani says breathlessly.
“That was incredible,” says Malou. Then, revising her statement: “You are incredible.”
As you sip peppermint tea and nibble a vegetable omelette, you manage to fit together some details about current events. A few hours ago, every magical girl got a sudden burst of energy. They were able to fight more valiantly, aim their attacks more accurately, and shrug off more injuries than ever. Working together, everyone was able to repel the current wave of invasions, and it’ll probably be another year or two—at least!—before things get that bad again.
“And I think a little bird here had something to do with it,” Char teases, nudging you.
“We won,” you say modestly, brushing a stray curl back behind your ear. “That’s what matters.”
“Yeah, but you really should tell everyone about what you can do,” Shani says, excitement bubbling in her voice. “Lending another warrior strength remotely—no one since Maona has gotten the hang of that. Maybe you could even teach other people the technique, too.”
You imagine how your younger self would have felt about that. Verdie at twelve, a wisp of frightened gray eyes and storm-tossed curls, holding back an invasion by herself. What would it have felt like if someone, no matter how far away, had rested an insubstantial hand on her shoulder? Told her “We’re here for you, you’re not fighting alone. Let us support you, let us teach you how to get through this.” What would that have meant?
Everything, you think. It would have meant everything.
And something in you that’s been curled up nursing its hurts for far too long unfurls like a bloom in spring or a kite in the wind. Now I can rest.
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Please turn back a page
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Please turn forward a page
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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The next day, your hosts return, and your training begins in earnest. Maroon is white-haired and sharp-eyed and self-contained. She can be strict if displeased, but she’s surprisingly kind if you can impress her, and she keeps you on your toes. Bechette has hugely curly hair in yellowing grey. She wears brightly colored cardigans and vintage brooches and flirts outrageously with people of all genders.
Alice is dark-skinned and pale-haired and always fiddling with something—the hem of a sweater, a popsicle stick. She speaks little, but seems to notice everything.
First, you learn navigation. How to find your way by remembering landmarks and little details, and telling which way is uptown and which way is downtown just by the clothes that passerby are wearing and where they’re headed. How to read a compass and how to learn to read a map.
You learn not only how to use public transportation, but how to transform it. Riding, half-crouched, on top of buses and trains. Leaping from the top of one taxi to another when broken red lights make for stalled traffic. And there are things you learn that can’t be categorized—how to protect bystanders if you have to start a fight in the middle of a crowd, how to catch a subterranean train that closes its doors just as you get there, how to escape from a stuck elevator.
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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“You fainted.” Malou says bluntly. “Too much magic, not enough pausing to eat snacks and drink water. I’ll get you some freeze-dried rations—or an energy bar. You’ll be up and fighting in no time, I promise.” She’s so serious that it puts a smile on your face.
“Yeah, you must have tired yourself out,” Shani says. “You toppled right over. I’m so glad you’re okay!” she adds, hugging you. “Do you want me to get you a milkshake?”
Char sits on the edge of the bed and ruffles your hair. “You looked so pale when you were unconcious—it’s not a good color for you. I totally freaked out.”
As you sip warm rooibos tea and nibble pieces of buttery roasted zucchini, you manage to fit together some details about current events. A few hours ago, every magical girl got a sudden burst of energy. They were able to fight more valiantly, aim their attacks more accurately, and shrug off more injuries than ever. Working together, everyone was able to repel the current wave of invasions, and it’ll probably be another year or two—at least!—before things get that bad again.
“Imagine what you could do for the militia of my hometown,” Malou says, a faraway gleam in her pretty dark eyes.
“You know it’s mainly thanks to you, Verdie,” Shani says quietly. “We know. Do you think you’d want other people to know, though?”
You tuck a stray curl behind your ear.
“I…I think so. It might be a lot of hard work, but I want to help as many people as I can—to make sure that Castle Vestri will never happen again. No one will have to fight alone while I’m alive.” By the end of the speech, you’re yawning again, so you curl back up and close your eyes.
“And you’ll never have to fight alone, either,” someone—you’re too sleepy to tell who—informs you, their presence a balm.
Castle Vestri…never again.
I can let go.
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>>
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Please turn back a page
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Magic Resilient, by Kayla Bashe
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“Well, we were waiting for you to wake up,” Char says. “But you’re awake, so everything’s okay now.” She smiles at you.
