Does This Count As Arts and Crafts? [closed]

[summerdude]

In the wake of Dark, Magnus takes a day or two to dig camp out from the snow drifts with Alex, then presents himself, finally, for lessons with Hanguang-jun.

They've been talking about it for a while, him and Hanguang-jun and Galahad — since Magnus first got weird about Galahad becoming Hanguang-jun's student. By now, he pretty much knows he's not going to stop feeling weird about stepping into a lesson with the two of them — even one totally unrelated to sword stuff — so he might as well rip off that proverbial bandaid.

He's a largely punctual guy, a trait recently intensified by Sunny's interest in making plans to hang out in one week and Magnus's role in keeping her calendar, but there is still a lot of snow to fight through to get to the Mansion's doors. He's a little breathless when he sweeps into the agreed-upon room, raking melting snow out of his hair with his fingers.

"What's up, my favorite comedians?"

Comments

[onthewillowsthere]

For his part, Galahad waits. There's no need to be anything but patient; the lesson will proceed when both of them are ready. He likes the feeling of the three of them working together.

[summerdude]

Okay, looks like it's still quiet time! Very, very carefully, Magnus tilts the tiniest splash of water into his dish, and then looks up, as if asking if that's enough.

[lightbearinglord]

"Better," Lan Wangji says, because this is true. "You may need more later. Try grinding the ink." This last, he addresses to both of them.

[onthewillowsthere]

He shoots a little smile at Magnus and picks up his inkstick. Grinding it against the wet stone is easy.

[summerdude]

Magnus suddenly doesn't know the weight of his own hand. He has augmented strength, will that make the weight of his hand heavier in practice? Should he lift up? Or is that overcorrecting? Should he push harder? Galahad is still being very well-behaved, and Hanguang-jun has clearly enjoyed having him as a student for well over a year now, which is fine and good and great and Magnus is very, very happy for them both. Lan Sizhui also seemed nice and chill and respectful, so Magnus definitely has to lean into resisting all of his wise-cracking urges and also be quiet and respectful so that he doesn't, like, somehow fall ass-backwards into Hanguang-jun regretting everything about this.

He's rubbing the ink stick in very, very careful circles on the stone. It seems to be working? He's not using too much pressure to push it down, and the pigment is mixing with the water in a way that looks more or less fine. His grip on the stick itself is very, very firm, but he seems to have figured out the optimal weight of his own hand to make this work out, and--

--the stick snaps in half in his hand.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji has been watching them both, and he should have warned Magnus that his grip was too tight, but perhaps it is better to have let him stumble across the mistake for himself. He doesn't flinch or seem particularly perturbed by the breaking of the ink stick. "You can keep grinding it in halves," he says.

[onthewillowsthere]

Are you okay? Galahad sets down his inkstick: his fingers flash through the words. Overwhelmed?

[summerdude]

Magnus is beet red, is what he is. Partly in response to Galahad's question, he ducks his head in a move that looks equally like nodding, shaking his head, and trying to get his hair -- regrettably, freshly-shorn by Alex -- to fall over his eyes so he can hide behind it. "Um," he whispers. "Both halves or just one?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji has never seen Magnus react this unfavorably to a mishap in the kitchen, their usual setting for teaching and learning, and he hesitates now, silently taken aback. Magnus is easily flustered, but Lan Wangji knows him well enough to recognize that this is something slightly more dire. "One at a time. Magnus?"

[onthewillowsthere]

I should go? Hanguang-jun alone?

[summerdude]

"No," Magnus blurts. It's been twelve years since he's been in any kind of classroom, unless Poetry Reading To the Death counts. He barely remembers how to be a student, much less a good one -- most teachers have agreed he's been a displeasure to have in class... and that was before he shed all his good manners on the streets. Too disruptive, his report cards regularly said. Too disrespectful. Asks too many questions. Won't sit quietly. Distracts the other students.

Galahad has been Hanguang-jun's student for a year. Galahad knows how to be a good student who Hanguang-jun likes. And maybe Hanguang-jun had a reason for wanting to be Magnus's teacher way back when, too, but that's because he's never had Magnus as a student. Magnus needs to have Galahad there, not just because he's his brother and best friend and someone Magnus always, always wants to hang out with, but because Magnus needs to know how to act.

And here he is, being disruptive again even though he's trying really hard not to be. Everyone (all two of them!) is paying attention to Magnus instead of to the lesson. Very carefully, Magnus sets half of the ink stick to the side, right where it was before. It can probably belong there just fine, or else why would Hanguang-jun have put it there in the first place? Gods, this was all so much easier when Magnus cared more about being right than being liked. (This is also why it's easier with Lancelot: it's outside; disruptiveness is part of the lesson; Magnus didn't start caring about being liked until after he'd already figured out their dynamic and the rhythm of that kind of education.)

"No," he says again, projecting the vibes of a guy who is totally calm and normal and who hasn't just gone (as he is, at least, aware) from zero to sixty in anxiety in about two seconds flat. "Nah, I'm good. See?" He starts grinding his ink again, very verrrry carefully.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji observes Magnus for a moment, almost as careful with the weight of his gaze as Magnus has become careful with his handling of the ink stick. Spun up; that is how Magnus would describe himself now. When I'm, like, spun up about stuff, it's not, like... a lot of the time, it's not, like, rational. Or even based on what I really think most of the time. He recalls Magnus saying that it was easier to ask Lancelot to teach him swordplay in part because he doesn't care what Lancelot thinks of him.

Hanguang-jun, I don't have, like, a sparkling history with teachers. Just, like, miles of disciplinary reports.

"Magnus," he says. "Calligraphy is a meditative art. This is not a test." A little pause. "Do you need a vibe check from Galahad?"

[summerdude]

Magnus is totally fine. Magnus is focused on his task. Magnus is one with his task. Magnus is a wet ink-stone. Magnus is the rough edge of his ink stick being ground smooth by his own uncertain hand. His stare? Vacant. His ears? Ringing. His surroundings? A Charlie Brown cartoon with an adult speaking. No, wait, that was Hanguang-jun. Magnus can't parse wah-wah-wawa-waaaaah. It's a good thing that Magnus has spent decades honing an ability to elegantly and eloquently respond when he doesn't understand what's just been said to him.

Magnus says, "Bwuhuh?"

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad looks at his best friend, grinding the inkstick down like a millstone, at the distant look in his grey eyes. He turns to Lan Wangji. "We need to go outside."

[lightbearinglord]

Whether this constitutes a vibe check, Lan Wangji doesn't know, but he understands at once. He nods. "Stop," he tells Magnus as he stands. "Come with us."

[summerdude]

Magnus startles. "What?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"We're going outside," Galahad says. "You're having a panic attack." He slides his hand into Magnus'.

[lightbearinglord]

"Mn." The incense has nearly burned down; Lan Wangji leaves it for now in favor of his attention remaining on Magnus, waiting to see if he will follow.

[summerdude]

"But--" That's so disruptive. You can't just walk out of class before it even really starts. "Lesson?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"We can return to it. Nothing will happen."

[lightbearinglord]

"It will wait. Come with us."

[summerdude]

"But--" Galahad's hand in his is warm, firm, and grounding. "Okay."

[onthewillowsthere]

Gently, Galahad tugs him to his feet and towards the door. There's a relief in knowing that this is what Magnus needs, that being drawn outside where he can feel closer to the wild world is as important as helping Claudius breathe.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji follows a step behind. He closes the door once they have crossed the threshold, silent, trusting that Galahad knows what he is doing.

[summerdude]

Magnus follows, a little too quietly, feeling incredibly stupid. Class didn't even start and he already messed it all up. He's never been this awful as a student before.