I Have GOT To Pick Better Habits [semi-closed post]

[summerdude]

The zombies are gone, the bodies are healed, the Magnus is exhausted. He's had an extremely strange few days. First, everyone else seems to start unloading their entire hearts at him -- unexpected! But pretty cool! -- and then he wakes up to zombies.

It really gets him thinking, is the thing. He's been practicing swordplay daily since arriving, sparring with people or against Jack, trying to keep a hand in and not let his mediocre skills atrophy. He's also been exercising in new-to-him invigorating ways, learning new stuff, meeting new people...

He likes it here. He really, really likes it here. He misses his friends back home more than words can possibly express, but if he went back to Valhalla right now, he'd miss the people here, too, some of them even equally as bad. And he doesn't want to subject these people all to Valhalla -- it's really not for everyone -- but he also can't figure out how to bring all his people here. Jack still can't rip through the barriers between worlds here like he can anywhere else in the Nine.

He likes it here... and it's becoming abundantly clear to him that he doesn't want to fight all the time anymore. The zombies have made it really, stunningly clear how much he doesn't miss Battle Practice or dying all the time. The rest has clued him into how much he likes learning new things, and talking to different kinds of people, and figuring out who he is when he's not constantly in crisis all the time, zombies aside.

But liking it here so much feels kind of like a betrayal? Especially after all the specific, deliberate choices he's made to stay in Valhalla with his people. And this sobers him, a little, blunting the rough edge of the adrenaline that's still coursing through his body.

His thoughts are distracting and, thusly preoccupied as he walks through the halls in the vague direction of his room, a shower, and a nap, he absently reaches out and returns Jack to pendant form...

And immediately passes out.

[Post intended for anyone who will be particularly upset by Magnus passing out xoxo]]

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[summerdude]

"Like," Magnus says, trying to clarify what he means for the both of them. "I'm Peace Guy in War Hotel, but that's... relative. I guess. Because sometimes violence is the solution. Not as much as the other einherjar want it to be, but... sometimes. And I did have a little fun with Gu Xiang today, when we made it a competition, and I have fun when Valhalla does tug-of-war into a chocolate lake instead of tug-of-war to the death, and I really like watching Alex do violence on everyone around her. She's so good at it," he explains.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji makes another low sound of agreement. Violence is, indeed, the solution at times. He knows that well enough. "Battle is a means to an end," he says, "but there is beauty in it at times. You already know that I cultivate the sword path." He couldn't say that he enjoys the violence itself specifically, but the beauty of sword forms, the clarity of Bichen in his hand and the way that everything in him can be honed to one wordless purpose -- he does, truthfully, love that feeling.

[summerdude]

"There is beauty in it," Magnus agrees, thinking again of Alex wrecking devastation on an entire battlefield. "I just... I wish there was, like, a sub-path, you know? I don't want to turn my back on my duty, but I also -- I don't want --"

He doesn't know how to articulate what he wants; so much of it involves coming harrowingly close to turning his back on the duty he's accepted.

"I relaxed too much, and now it's not fun." It was never fun; fun was never the point. But he could find more highlights, before.

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji's hand in Magnus' hair stops, although he does not move it away. He only wants, for a time, to hold Magnus' head to his shoulder and chest, to be still with him. "There are several paths," he says slowly, "and duty taken unwillingly is not duty worth fulfilling."

He thinks again of their second meeting. Did Magnus believe him a god then? He must have. "I have seen how you can heal wounds and enforce peace. I read of your father's nature." Again, he says, "There are several paths."

[summerdude]

A mental image comes to Magnus, and he gives a single huff of laughter, relaxing against Lan Wangji. "It's like an Onion headline," he says. "'Apocalypse Averted on Account of One Guy Who Kept Casting the Same Peace Spell Over and Over Until Everyone Got Bored And Went Home. 'We kept waiting for our foretold deaths and victories to arrive, but he wouldn't fucking quit,' complains Thor.'"

[lightbearinglord]

Fondly and quietly, Lan Wangji tells him, "I can barely understand you at times."

[summerdude]

"Oh." Magnus blushes. "Sorry. The Onion is like, this satire newspaper? Wait, do you know what either of those things are? They do fake funny news stories. Some are really bizarre. Like if I stopped the apocalypse -- Ragnarok -- by just doing Peace of Frey all over the place."

[lightbearinglord]

This is enough information to glean what Lan Wangji needs to know. "Mn. Why not try?"

[summerdude]

"It's not prophesied," Magnus says, and then thinks about himself telling Galahad how much he hates prophesies. "I guess I could try?"

[lightbearinglord]

"Try, then."

There is one more matter he intends to address with Magnus, but it has been a long and bloody day, and the days immediately prior even longer. Lan Wangji's body has not tired, but the rest of him has. He lapses into silence. The slightly excessive strength with which he is embracing Magnus has not ebbed.

[summerdude]

"Okay, Hanguang-jun," Magnus says. He's so comfortable and so, so tired. He snuggles closer to Lan Wangji's chest. "I'll try. But you don't have to fight for me, okay?"

[lightbearinglord]

If Magnus is in danger and it is within Lan Wangji's abilities to protect him, of course he will fight for him. But Lan Wangji says nothing on that tonight, opting for another comfortable moment of silence before he says, "I spoke with Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu. We agree that it was Luo Binghe who wore my face in your dream."

[summerdude]

"Huh." Magnus blinks, processing this. "That's weird of him."

[lightbearinglord]

"It is," Lan Wangji agrees. "Take care around Luo Binghe." His arms tighten for a fraction of a moment as he can't help but imagine the icy depths of his own rage if any harm came to Magnus at Luo Binghe's hands. He reminds himself that, supposedly, Shen Qingqiu and Magnus are friendly, and that Magnus is safe.

[summerdude]

"I promise," Magnus says, tilting his head back so he can see the side of Lan Wangji's face.

[lightbearinglord]

With some care, Lan Wangji relaxes his hold, though he doesn't let go. It is just enough that he can look properly at Magnus, serious as he always is as he accepts that promise. It eases him a little, and despite his weariness and the grimness of the preceding days, his expression is terribly soft in its solemnity.

[summerdude]

"Hanguang-jun?"

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji does not actually answer aloud, but there is a small shift in his expression that speaks to attentiveness. It serves as his version of asking, Yes?

[summerdude]

"I know you said not to say sorry to you," Magnus says. "So instead I'll say thank you." He indulges himself and his discovery of his growing comfort with physical touch by resting his cheek against Lan Wangji's shoulder. "You're really great." He kind of wishes... but that's dumb.

[lightbearinglord]

The weight of Magnus' head on his shoulder is a sweet small comfort, and Lan Wangji takes a slow breath. His chest aches, just a little. There is truly no reason for Magnus to thank him, either, but Lan Wangji accepts it. "It is my pleasure."

[summerdude]

"That, um." Magnus blinks. His eyelashes feel heavy, damp against his cheek. He stifles a yawn. "That disciple of yours that you told me about is really lucky."

[lightbearinglord]

Lan Wangji has to shut his eyes. Sizhui is old enough now to get by without his supervision, and they have been apart for longer stretches than this. Lan Wangji, improbably, trusts the Ghost General to care for him in his absence. And yet not a day has gone by without Lan Wangji thinking of him, longing for him and hoping that he is well.

It does Magnus a disservice to compare the two of them. They are not the same person. Magnus is more talkative, quicker to laugh and quicker to cry, not so honed by years of Cloud Recesses discipline or by half-forgotten years of every Wen uncle and auntie passing him around the rocky soil of the Burial Mounds like the most-beloved sack of radishes in the place. His pains are his own, and the people he has lost cannot be replaced by one cultivator who has known him for a handful of weeks.

Still. Lan Wangji carefully draws in another breath. He flattens a hand between Magnus' shoulder blades, cognizant of the strength and fragility of him, the shape of him caught between childhood and adulthood. "Sleep," he says gently, punctuating this directive with a single kiss dropped to the top of Magnus' head.

[summerdude]

Magnus doesn't, though; he's distracted by the kiss and by the thought that he hasn't really had an adult in years. Sure, he's maybe old enough not to need one, now, and he hasn't really been in the market for one in ten years, but also... Hearthstone and Blitzen are great, and he loves them, but now that he's an einherji they're more friends than his inexplicable street-uncles, and they've never been touchy-feely, just attentive and helpful.

It's only now, being held by an adult-shaped adult who feels like a real adult to Magnus -- rather than a god, or an ageless einherji, or someone who's just a friend and who maintains careful friend-shaped boundaries -- that he lets himself acknowledge that he wants one. Even his dad is at a remove: Magnus may be semi-immortal now, but dead demigods don't make it into legend as beloved children of their parents. Frey is a better dad than the rest of the gods, but he can, at best, be described as 'occasionally helpful, and with a calming aura.' Frey might have the best, most peaceful and summery energy of anyone in the world, but that doesn't mean he's involved.

Lan Wangji's energy is different. It's no less peaceful -- there was a reason Magnus wondered, briefly, if he might be a god of peace -- but it's cooler. Quieter. Less eau de unbridled natural growth. More... steadfast, and reliable, and committed, and sharp, like curling up with a good book on your favorite bench on a beautiful winter day.

Magnus is a decisive guy, when it comes to picking his people. He's been a little slower about it in the past six-odd weeks, because the shorthand he's grown familiar with (battle companion/comrade in arms, helpful on a quest, runs away from certain death with him) is so much harder to parse here. He's picked Galahad, though; even though they spar somewhat regularly (read: Galahad wipes the floor with him over and over while Magnus tries to learn), Galahad is the first friend he's made since childhood without any kinds of prophecy-strings attached. He's picked Shen Yuan, too, and he's pretty sure he's picked Gu Xiang even though her friendship is a lot more like the ones he has with his hallmates (he loves, and misses, his violent and unpredictable hallmates). He likes almost everybody he's met, except Lancelot; he doesn't even have particular issues with Luo Binghe outside of the weird dream thing. He's pretty sure he could pick any of them. All of them, even, once he starts to relax into figuring out his role here better.

He's picking Lan Wangji. He doesn't have to tell him yet; Magnus knows he moves fast when he makes up his mind about something. He does wish there was a term, for an uber-adult who is an adult to you even though you're grown up too, who's soft and holds you when you're sad and strokes your hair and actively listens to you ramble instead of thinking about his own things. He knows what he wants that word to be, too, even though he's had bad experiences with most of the people who fit into that label before: family.

He keeps it to himself, this bright hope that's been kindled in his chest, burning away some of the darkness of the day. He snuggles against Lan Wangji's chest. Family, he thinks, trying the word on like an old well-worn sweater, seeing how it fits.

[lightbearinglord]

Magnus doesn't sleep -- Lan Wangji would be able to tell -- but he does settle, and that will do for now. His breaths are slow and steady, his limbs all neatly tucked into Lan Wangji's lap. There is a certain base comfort in that, in having Magnus enfolded entirely within his arms, like a confirmation that as long as Lan Wangji has him, he will be shielded from the things that have hurt and disappointed him. The things that have killed him. If Lan Wangji has his way, that will never happen again.

After the death of his mother, Lan Wangji shut himself away. His brother worried, and said so, but made no insistences. If a night-hunt came calling, Lan Wangji answered. Otherwise, it was himself and his books and his qin and his cold, silent, unoccupied heart. Wei Ying shattered it open, in defiance of every one of Lan Wangji's defenses, and then left him aching, and then laughed at a marketplace in Yiling and told Lan Wangji that the small, hot, grubby body clinging to his leg liked him. Lan Wangji told A-Yuan to be quiet at mealtimes, and A-Yuan nodded with wide solemn eyes and obeyed, Wei Ying sputtering with indignation in the background. Lan Wangji should have known then that he would never again be able to shutter himself against this or any other kind of love.

Lan Wangji is not stupid. He can read people, not always but often. When Magnus accused him of neglect, no longer summery so much as fiery, the tears in his eyes and the absolute earnestness of him spoke to the empty places within his own heart. The people who were meant to care for him have let him down. That, too, will not happen again.

Lan Wangji sighs, very quietly, and relaxes where he sits. He will hold Magnus until sleep comes for him.

[summerdude]

It's hard, for Magnus to get himself to settle down, even with Lan Wangji holding him. He feels limp with the exertion of the day, but now that he's been roused from his post-Jack pass-out, he's still wired with it. But he wants Lan Wangji to think well of his effort, so he closes his eyes and tries. And at least if he's focused on calming himself, he won't do something silly, like blurt out all the thoughts bubbling up underneath the surface.

But something important -- more important than joking that he got it right the first time, actually; a maybe-parental figure did answer his prayer to his dad -- occurs to him. "Will you help me?" he asks, quietly, not wanting to interrupt the hush surrounding them. "Think of other paths?"