summerdude | (Almost) Everything Is Comin' Up Chase [closed post]

Galahad is back at the desk in their room, trying once again to produce something that feels remotely acceptable as a love letter, and he hears the noise at the door -- he is, for once, more than happy to be disturbed from a project.

"Magnus?" he calls at Magnus' retreating back, as he pokes his head out.

"Oh!" Magnus stops and spins around on his heel, immediately heading back to Galahad. "Hey dude, I didn't know you were home."

"I'm writing," dismally. "Come in?"

So Magnus does, bringing the gift bag with him. This he places on a surface that looks distinctly Claudius's. "Whatcha writing?" he asks, coming over to stand next to Galahad and then, thoughtfully, offering their daughter to him in case she cheers him out of that dismal tone.

Galahad watches Magnus put the bag down on the vanity next to Claudius' array of brushes and perfumes and cosmetics, then takes Dro into his arms. She's sleepy from having just eaten and she snuggles up agreeably.

"I want to write something for Claudius, about how I-- feel about him."

Oooh! Magnus is* an expert on written declarations of love. "Poem? Song? Love letter? Love encyclopedia?"

*Not!

Edited 2024-01-20 03:36 (UTC)

His gaze flicks to the wastebasket full of crumpled paper. "Letter."

"It's not going well, I'm guessing?" Magnus asks, following Galahad's gaze.

"It all sounds terrible." When he speaks to me it's beautiful, he signs. He wrote me a letter once. I read it sometimes when I'm sad. I want to write something like that for him to keep, but I don't know what to say.

Magnus scratches his head for a moment, thinking. "I've started writing down the things I would say to Alex if he was here," he admits. "But it's not, like, pretty. Hmmm." He plops down on the ground next to Galahad and leans against his leg, twisting around enough that he can still see Galahad sign. "Do you want help?"

"What would you say to Alex?"

"Right now?"

"Yes."

So Magnus closes his eyes. Signing as he talks, he says, "Dear Alex. It's getting cold enough here that I need a hoodie outside or else even I start to feel chilly. I keep thinking about that time in Niflheim when you kissed me for the first time. I've never been that cold, before or since, at any point in my life or death. We both know that you saved us both with that kiss, but what you don't know is that I think, in that moment, I could have died happy. Like, I don't ever want to go back there, but... in a weird way, that was the best day of my life. So it makes sense that the cold makes me think of you more acutely than usual, I guess. Also, I made you a bed in my camp, just in case. It doesn't have to be the same one as mine; there's enough pillows for two piles. Since winter is setting in here, and you prefer camping, too, I keep thinking about you sitting on a cooler at camp, your nose pink from the cold even as you insist that you're totally fine and it's not affecting you at all. Maybe you'd turn into a bear to sleep, though, since you do feel the cold even though you like to pretend like you don't. Maybe you'd let me curl up next to your big bear self so we can pretend I'm just as cold as you were. Or maybe you'd stay human and let me kiss you until we're both completely warm. Your hair feels so nice when you let me put my hands in it when we kiss. I like the way your curls feel thick and springy around my fingers, and the way you pout at me if I get it tangled, and the way I can always tell where the dye starts without even looking. I like the way that I know it's a little longer when you're a dude, but most people can't tell. I'm not mad that you had to go back to Valhalla. I know the Chase Space is in good hands. Strong hands, quick with a garrote and sturdy with a lump of clay. Sometimes I wish I could be your lump of clay. Sometimes I think about it, about the way you've shaped me. The way I want you to continue shaping me into the kind of guy who can always be good for you. I would pick up the sword again in a second if you asked me to, but I also know you'd never ask me to. If I truly do manage to keep Ragnarok from happening by keeping Jack here forever, then I think I'm going to love you for eternity. Definitely at least until the heat death of the universe. I hope you're having fun. Love, your Maggie."

Then his eyes fly open and he looks at Galahad, eyes wide. Nobody here knows that Alex calls him Maggie, much less that he's kind of, sort of, started to get used to it... that he even kind of misses it. Oh well. It doesn't have to be weird that he's let the nickname slip unless he makes it weird?

Edited 2024-01-20 06:19 (UTC)

Galahad is watching him with his usual blank intensity, but Magnus, who is used to him, can probably tell that he's affected.

But that's beautiful. How???

Magnus is so embarrassed, actually, that he just... rambled like that for so long. It's not like the stories he usually tells, which have a point besides the fact that he's a total sap for his boyfriend. It's nice that Galahad clearly liked what he had to say, but... surely he could have kept it tight for him and just done a little bitty example! But he misses Alex so much that it feels like miscounting the steps on a staircase and tripping because you're expecting just one more that isn't there. How what?

You said things about your memories of her, and how you love her, what you like about her, what you'd do if she were here. How she matters. I want to be able to say things like that too.

I think you can, Magnus says. Galahad has definitely gotten super sappy about Claudius before. What have you tried so far? Can I see?

He retrieves one of the pages from the wastebasket and smooths it out.

Beloved Claudius. Shen Yuan said if I try to write about how you're beautiful, it won't sound right, because it's impossible to make any words live up to what you're really like. He said I should write about how your beauty makes me feel. It makes me feel speechless. If I could take a picture of you every day or draw you whenever I wanted to I still wouldn't be able to look at you enough. Every time I see you I want to kiss you. I want to kiss every part of you. I want too much of you, ~~like a flood covering the earth~~. I think living with you is what a miracle must feel like.

Magnus skims the letter, and then rereads it carefully. Wow! If he got a letter like that, he'd be really emotional about it, actually. "Dude, this is like, really good," he says.

He's not the sort of person who'd look suspicious, but his gaze does lift to Magnus' face uncertainly. "It's not the way he talks. He'd say something better."

"He'd say something different, maybe," Magnus acknowledges, because Claudius and Galahad do have different ways of communicating. "But do you wanna sound like him or like you?" It's a genuine question. If Galahad doesn't want to sound like himself, Magnus is fully committed to helping him.

"No," with a little sigh, because the whole point of writing his own love letter is not sounding like anyone else -- King Solomon or one of the Apostles or prophets or psalmists. "Like me."

"So you want to sound like you," Magnus says, trying to think of ways in which Galahad might want to sound like a Claudius-adjacent sort of Galahad. "But maybe a more, like... gush-y version of you?"

"More eloquent," he says at once. "I stop and start all the time. It's halting." Like Jacob walking home after wrestling the angel, halting upon his thigh.

Magnus considers this for a long enough moment that Drosera resettles herself twice in Galahad's arms. "I have an idea," he says, eventually. "Maybe it's a stupid one."

Galahad waits.

"What if you started by writing a letter to Percival? Telling him about Claudius. Or me or Shen Yuan, I guess, if you want, but we're here and we know him, so that might be harder. Maybe if you're explaining what you love about him to someone else, you'll get a draft of something you can turn into telling Claudius what you love about him more directly."

"That's not stupid. That's-- that's a good idea." He squeezes Dro, and she snaps at him. "--Sorry," he murmurs, stroking her feathers. "That's a good idea," back to Magnus. "I could try that."

Oh! Well then! Magnus flushes lightly, pleased. "Good," he says. "I hope it helps."

"Thank you," with a little smile. "How are you?"

"Oh, fine." Magnus nods at the gift bag on Claudius's vanity. "I managed to sprout bamboo!"

"Oh!" he says, brightening. This is, at least, something unequivocally good.

"I was going to leave it here for Claudius, so he could do whatever's necessary to keep it, like, viable until whatever it is we have to do next to turn it into enough bamboo for a bamboo grove in the forest."

"He'll take care of it. He's good at taking care of things."

"Like you?" Magnus asks, teasing now.

Galahad flushes, dropping his gaze to the top of Drosera's head. "Like me," he agrees softly.

"Good," says Magnus, firmly. He really has no concerns about Claudius treating Galahad well -- it's so obvious how much he loves him -- but if that did change, Magnus is pretty sure he'd go full berserker. He'd put Halfborn Gunderson to shame! "Oh! Uh. Um. Did he tell you that I did end up asking him for The Talk?" he asks.

"Did it help?"

Magnus considers the question seriously. "...Eventually," he decides.

"Did you ask anyone else?"

"Yeah, like fourteen other people," Magnus admits, face blazing. It's still so embarrassing that he did that, so he tries to deflect. "Hey, speaking of sounding like Claudius, I told him I was going to write down the way he says all the stuff he says and use it to make Alex laugh at me."

The thought of that makes him laugh, too -- Alex is so blunt and straightforward, and he doesn't think Claudius' flourishes would appeal to her.

"Exactly, you get it," Magnus says. "He was like, 'what are your desires?' and obviously I was like, 'pretty much just to make Alex happy,' and he was like--" here, Magnus tries to do an impression of Claudius, sitting up straighter and doing his best to emulate his voice. "'It's a heady thing, to have a lover whose foremost desire is your happiness. You can say so to Alex, say you want above all things to please him -- in your own charming style,' and I was like, 'actually if I say it exactly like you did she would make so much fun of me.' And I guess I'm into that. So then he said I could take notes on Claudiusisms."

"You can't do that. I'm not good with faces, I won't know who's in here with me." He does not linger on the content; Magnus doesn't need to watch him blush.

Magnus laughs. He loves that Galahad's jokes so often come when he could kinda use feeling a little more settled in his own skin.

"Do you like it when Alex laughs at you?"

"Um." Magnus is definitely blushing again! "Yeah."

Edited 2024-01-23 02:26 (UTC)

Galahad just nods, watching him (he's so grateful for Magnus, with whom everything feels less dire and easier to bear, including his inability to express himself -- Magnus is like Percival in so many ways but in so many other ways he's something new and wonderful, and Galahad loves him).

"That was one of the things I asked some of the, um. Seventeen people, actually," admits Magnus, who is glad that an adult-shaped adult like Sagramore said some of the things he thinks he might want are normal, but who would rather have the reassurance of his best friend. "If that's, like. Normal."

"It is, isn't it?" asks Galahad, who is fairly certain that Magnus is normal, and thus, by transitive property, so are his desires.

"To, like. Really like it?" Magnus shrugs. "I guess."

He contemplates. "I really like it when Claudius does what I tell him to do," carefully -- he's trying to commiserate, which always makes him nervous; it's easy to get wrong.

It works! Magnus visibly relaxes, slumping against Galahad's legs^* with relief. If Galahad is into it (albeit from the other side) then maybe possibly it's actually genuinely fine. "I think I want Alex to tell me what to do," he admits.

*This typist realizes they forgot to write Magnus sitting down at some point, but he did! On the floor next to Galahad.

"I like to decide for him. It reminds me that he's mine, too, not just that I'm his. And-- I take care of him better than he takes care of himself."

That sounds a little kinky, actually! Magnus had no idea that Galahad was a little kinky. "That's cool, man," he says, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows so he can look up at Galahad. "I like... Alex has always kind of called the shots, with us. He knows what he wants and what he's comfortable with. And I like that. He says it's to help me live in the moment instead of worrying about the future, but I also, like." Oh, he's blushing again! He's not even talking about, like, sex, really, except for how Claudius had told him that regular relationship stuff can become sex stuff, maybe. So. He's been thinking about it. Musingly, sounding the words out as he says them: "I like when I feel like I have no idea what's coming or what he's going to do next and he laughs at how clueless I am but it doesn't matter because he wouldn't do anything I hate."

"You trust him."

"With my death!" Magnus says, hoping the joke lands.

"With your death." Galahad reaches down and pets Magnus' hair.

Magnus relaxes gratefully into the touch. "It's getting long again," he says, about his hair, and then: "What's new with you, dude?"

He considers this question. He and Claudius pressed the flytrap flower in the press Magnus gave him for his birthday; it's waiting to dry before it can be opened. He chose Claudius' outfit for the first time. He's been spending more time with the record player now that it gets dark so early, and keeping a list of the songs he likes, to share with Magnus and possibly Laertes. But then something more pressing occurs to him.

"Are you angry with Lancelot because he struck me?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Claudius is too. I didn't realize. We had a fight about it." He pauses, gathering threads. "It's all right between us -- Lancelot and me. We spoke about it and it's settled. You don't need to be angry."

Magnus thinks about this for a minute, and then thoughtfully gets up so he can move Drosera from Galahad's lap to the floor. He leans, half-sitting against Galahad's desk, angled so he can see both Galahad's face and his hands. This is partly to buy himself time, so that he doesn't just blurt out that he'll never stop being angry at Lancelot. Girl Code might dictate it, but The Other Best Friend Code* demands hearing your best friend out and giving his arguments all due consideration. This is also partly because he's pretty sure this conversation might go better if it's nonverbal. Once he's settled, he signs, Can you say more?

*Not to be confused with Best Friend Code which, as previously established, is about casting judgement on someone your friends love.

It definitely will, and Galahad signs Thank you quickly. Then, after petting Dro for a few moments so he can think, he signs, He hit me because I hurt him and he didn't know who I was. That's what everyone does there. In Camelot. I was upset because I thought he should know me, but Shen Yuan figured out he was from a different time, and then he found me and said he was sorry. He doesn't need to do anything else for me. He gives Dro another stroke and then adds, I know you hate when fathers are bad, but he doesn't feel like my father. My father was a different person.

Magnus hesitates. Different how?

Always angry. Proud. Unpredictable. He hated me because of my mother. He hesitates; it's one thing to tell Claudius in a heated moment, and another to tell Magnus when he's sitting here, calm, trying to wind up the thread of his father's legacy. My mother raped him twice. The second time he went mad and wandered in the woods for two years. This was before I came to Camelot, but everyone said he was different before that. More like he is here, I think. When I knew him he was... he wasn't kind to me. Or anyone.

There's a lot in that. It certainly helps contextualize at least one of the things Magnus saw in Lancelot's memories, and he shifts a little, uncomfortable. Partly because there's a small, loud part of him that's thinking 'this is BETTER?! But he's already so awful!'

He shoves that to the side for now. Girl Code. You can't hate the scrubs your friends like so much that they don't go to you when they need to talk about him!!! Do you want a relationship with him?

Edited 2024-01-24 23:27 (UTC)

This is a question he knows the answer to with far less need for consideration, although he thinks it should probably be harder to answer. It doesn't matter. I don't dislike him. I don't even know him. He's just here.

So does it matter if I -- Magnus stops himself from signing 'hate.' -- don't like him?

You don't have to like him. I just wanted you to know that it's all right between me and him.

Magnus is quiet and still for another long moment, watching Drosera start to weave her way around Galahad's feet. Galahad should absolutely have exactly whatever sort of relationship he wants with everybody he knows. That's, like, a no-brainer. Thanks for telling me, he says, and then, because it's not like he's ever going to lie to Galahad, I don't think I can forgive him though.

He tilts his head slightly, and pokes Dro with his foot -- she immediately flops down on her back and grabs his shoe with all four feet, claws and talons all. Because of me? Did he do something else to you? It's still a surprise to find that his disastrous first meeting with Lancelot matters so much to Magnus, even though it seems to matter that much to Claudius, too.

"I, like" Magnus says, and then shakes his head. I try not to share people's private stuff with anyone else, he signs, a little imploring. No matter what it is or who they are. I... He pauses. He feels like maybe he does need to explain, at least a little bit. Galahad knows about what happens when Magnus heals people. Galahad... I saw his memories. I saw...

He frowns. "What did you see?"

"I saw him attack my best friend, for one," Magnus says -- a little obstinately, it must be said.

Galahad presses his lips together in the way he does when he's displeased. Did you see me knock him down?

Magnus nods. Yeah. I saw that too.

He gives Magnus a look like well, then, and has to remind himself of his argument with Claudius -- he hasn't explained enough yet. Just because Magnus knows him so well doesn't mean he knows everything.

Magnus. I've killed people.

Yeah, I know. Or at least, he'd figured. Galahad is, like, really good at fighting, and he comes from a time when people didn't just fight for funsies. So have I.

It doesn't matter if I wanted to. It's how everything is answered. If someone hurts you, or takes something you want, or if God tells you to. It's just how things are. If we were in Britain -- he did what anyone would do. It wasn't about me.

Magnus presses his foot against Galahad's, mindful of Drosera, who chatters her displeasure with the move. Too bad, Dro, Magnus wants the physical reassurance of touching his best friend, and he can't hold Galahad's hand if they're talking like this! Valhalla too, he says. Attack first, questions never. And then he hesitates. He hit you first. But that's not even the point. He puts his hands to his sides, holding onto the desk, as he tries to sort through his thoughts.

He presses his foot back against Magnus', and waits for him.

The first thing Magnus filters out is, You're mortal, which really is also the crux of tons of his fears about, like, so many things here.

After a moment, he gets down on the floor with Drosera and Magnus, settling closer to him so they can lean against each other. Somewhat mollified, Dro climbs onto their laps.

"Yes, hello Silly Baby," Magnus says, pulling a toy mouse out of his pocket and holding it up for her to swipe at. He leans more heavily against Galahad. "I have, like. Issues, or whatever. With dads. As you know." I also don't, like. Buy 'that's just how things are done' as a good reason for things to happen.

I know. I told Claudius -- I want to choose different. I don't want to be a weapon in God's hand.

Magnus leans his head on Galahad's shoulder. I know, man, he says. We're Choice Guys now, not Fight Guys..

He could choose something different here too, and as much as he thinks himself indifferent to Lancelot, there's something a little hopeful in it.

I healed him during the zombies, Magnus says, which is his way of promising that he's not going to attack Lancelot unless the situation changes.

He nods. I'm sorry I don't feel the way you want me to.

Magnus looks at him, surprised. How do you think I want you to feel?

Angry? With Lancelot.

Magnus takes Galahad's hand and threads their fingers together. "Well, I don't," he says. "Dude, I care how you feel but I don't care what it is that you feel. Like, I do, because you're my best friend and I love you. But you can feel whatever it is that you feel and that's fine. If that makes sense."

It does make sense, but in a way that makes Galahad feel like he might cry again the way he did during the talent show, and he doesn't want to cry. He nods quietly and squeezes Magnus' hand.

"I'm sorry I don't like your d-- um, Lancelot." Magnus scratches Dro's rump with his free hand. "It doesn't help that his vibes were awful even before I knew who he was to you. Um, sorry."

"You don't have to like him." He pauses. "What are vibes?"

"Like," Magnus says, and pauses, thinking. "You know when you walk into a room and you're like, 'oh gods, I just know I'm going to regret getting up this morning and coming here?' That's a feeling you get when the vibes are off. They're kind of like, I guess, an emotional resonance? Or, like energy? Something you can't really quantify or define but you know it's there. Like-- when we were helping Shen Yuan pick out his date outfit, and different things had different, like, feelings to them? Each one had its own vibe. Like the one that gave off, um, extremely horny vibes, and the one that gave off 'I'm a fine upstanding gentleman who would never think of, um, screwing on the first date' vibes. Or like, in other uses of the term... Loki is low-key kind of hot, but his vibes are atrocious. Very 'I'm extremely evil and will destroy everything you love.' And me and you, we vibe. We get along and we get each other and it's pretty easy, right? And our birthday party had great vibes. Sagramore and Laertes's wedding dance had good vibes, too, but they were a lot more intense." He twists to look at Galahad's face. "I don't know if I'm explaining this right."

"It's a feeling, but -- a feeling that can be around a person. Or a place or thing."

"Yeah! That's it."

"Your vibe is like Percival's."

"Oh yeah?" This warms Magnus. "How so?"

"You both chose me. You talk a lot because you know so many things, and you didn't mind that I was shy at first. You're always teaching me. You know me, and you're easy to talk to, and I'm happy with you."

Magnus leans his head against Galahad's shoulder. "I feel the same way about you," he says.

"If you weren't here, I think I would be-- it would be much harder."

Yeah. Magnus could deal without Galahad, maybe, if he didn't know he existed at all. But now that he does, he's pretty certain he'd struggle a lot more without him. "I'm glad we're both here," he says. "This place would suck without my best friend."

"The vibes would be awful."

"So bad," Magnus agrees, nudging Galahad.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"You mean the, uh." What was it they had called it? "Feast thing?"

"Wanderers Gather. I think it will be better than the dance because it will be outside."

"Yeah," Magnus says, emphatically. "Also feasts are easier than dances, like, in general. More familiar, way less attention on a guy." But he wishes Alex could be there. Feasts are always significantly better with him. "I wonder what kind of food there will be. The nightly feast in Valhalla is just Saehrimnir."

"But Seahrimnir could be lots of things, you said."

"Yeah, all the proteins," Magnus laughs. "Vikings really like their meat and mead."

"Laertes cooks all the time. There could be anything but Seahrimnir."

Magnus laughs harder. After a moment, reflectively, he says, "Saehrimnir wouldn't even fit here. It's way too big."

"It could get smaller, like Temeraire. There aren't as many people here as eirherji."

"Huh." Magnus has never considered whether Saehrimnir could change sizes. "What size animal do you think could comfortably feed everyone here?"

Galahad is silent for a very long time, mentally going through the bestiary -- a bear seems too small, as does a lion, and many of the heraldic beasts have men's faces, which makes them unsuitable for eating, probably. Finally, "A camelopard?"

"Oooh, what's that one?"

"It has a long neck and long legs, and it's very tall, with a patterned hide, and little horns."

"Oh. You mean, like, a giraffe?"

"Is it also called that? In the bestiary it's called a camelopard."

"It's neck is, like, super long, but otherwise might as well be a super spotty horse or cow or something? Kind of orange?"

"Yes! I think leopard because it has spots. Have you seen one?"

"I sure have," Magnus says, grinning. "Have you ever heard of a zoo?"

"Never."

"Oh, dude. You'd love zoos. They get all kinds of animals from all around the world and put them there, in big enclosures that are designed to feel a little like home." He squints for a moment, and then jokes: "Kinda like us here, I guess."

"Do animals in zoos decide to stop being fighting guys?"

Magnus laughs. "Probably," he says. "There's enough food that they don't have to compete for it."

"Then we just need a-- giraffe."

"Yeah! We already have a dragon and a griffin and some horses and -- oh man, did you see that we got another cat?"

"Another? Does it talk too?"

"I can talk to him but Georgia couldn't so I think he's more like Dro than like Mothwing." He pauses. "Um, Georgia is his human. They came together."

Edited 2024-01-28 16:45 (UTC)

"I haven't met her," he says, although that doesn't really mean anything -- they both know that Galahad is less likely than Magnus to greet new arrivals.

"I only saw her the one time," Magnus nods. He's still thinking about animals and zoos and the way that Galahad had a different name for giraffes. "Hey, how many animals are in that bestiality of yours?"

"I have it." He climbs to his feet and goes to the bookshelf on his side of the bed, where he's been keeping his favorite books instead of returning them to the library. The bestiary is an illuminated manuscript with full-page illustrations of the creatures inside, both real and mythological (there's actually an entry for a lindwyrm in addition to griffin, unicorn, manticore, harpy), with an entry on the habits of each, although this information is, as the age of the book might suggest, largely wrong.

"Okay, this is so cool," Magnus says, laughing at some of the weird names and weirder facts listed for some of the animals.

"We had one in the nunnery like this. The sisters let me look at it sometimes."

"What was different about it?" Magnus asks, curiously. He's never been this up-close and personal to an old-timey book before. He's heard of illuminated manuscripts, but this is way beyond what he ever imagined.

"Some of the beasts here," meaning this book, "weren't in it. And on the page for dragons there were paw prints. A cat walked in the ink when it was being made."

"Oh." Magnus blinks, strangely overcome at that mental image. "I really like that."

"I liked it too." He glances over at Drosera, who's curled up like a cat herself now, with even her taloned feet tucked up under herself. "When I was lonely I would pretend I was the monk who wrote it. I used to pray to God to send a kitten for me to find."

"Did he?" Magnus asks, curious. He strokes a hand down Dro's back, gently; she shifts a little and then tucks her beak more firmly under her back paw.

"No. I don't think it was important to Him." There's no censure in it; he doesn't expect this to have been something that would concern God. "I used to ask for a lot of things."

"Gods have weird priorities," Magnus says, in tones of great commiseration. "What kind of things?"

"For the birds to stay in the kitchen garden and not fly away when I came to pick herbs. For another child to come to the nunnery. For fish to be meat so we couldn't eat it during Lent. For Sister Mathilde to live to nine-hundred years like Methuselah." He looks thoughtful. "To be better at sitting still. I was scolded a lot for moving too much."

"Dude, me too," Magnus says. "Um, that last one. I don't know who Sister Mathilde is and we didn't do Lent. I always got in trouble for fidgeting too much."

"Sister Mathilde was my favorite nun, but she was old. She died when I was eleven." Galahad taps his fingers on his thighs. "I did get better at being still."

"Aw." Magnus gives Galahad an apologetic grimace. He knows what it's like to lose people. A little philosophically, he says, "I don't think I ever did get better at sitting still. Why was she your favorite?"

He shrugs. They both know people die. "She liked to listen to me. I used to talk too much, but she never told me to stop. She said I was like her sister's son and when she was very old and blind she called me his name when I came to read to her. The abbess told me to read scripture to her but sometimes she told me folk tales instead, even though she wasn't supposed to."

"She sounds awesome," Magnus says, leaning against Galahad. "I bet my teachers wished I just talked too much. I'm pretty sure I was a nightmare child."

He leans back. "What were you like?"

Magnus thinks for a moment. "Disruptive," he decides. "Maybe partly because of the asthma and panic attacks? But mostly because I'd just get up and do things instead of doing what I was told, and I'd always talk about wanting to go outside instead of sitting in class. It was enough that I had a disciplinary record a mile long by the time I had to leave school. ...But also I think some of my teachers were just dicks. My second-grade teacher hated that I'm left-handed so he taped my hand to the desk to force me to write with my right hand."

This doesn't really surprise him; he knows left-handedness is said to be bad luck, or a bodily failure like blindness or limblessness. He nods (like Lan Wangji, he hates these cruelties that have been visited upon Magnus, that Magnus talks about so easily, as if they were nothing -- but he expects the world to be a cruel place, so he tends to just take them in). "What does that mean, second-grade? A lesser teacher?"

"Ooh, okay, so where I come from, school is compulsory until you're, like, eighteen," Magnus says. "Twelfth grade. Senior year of high school. Um, obviously I dropped in my freshman year -- ninth grade -- cuz my mom died and since I had that record, they thought I caused the apartment explosion, so I had to, like, go on the lam or whatever. But you have kindergarten when you're five, and maybe preschool before that, and then they count the grades by years. First grade is when you're six, second grade is when you're seven, and so on and so forth. They say kindergarten through fifth grade is elementary school, sixth through eighth is middle school, and ninth through twelfth is high school. Then, if you're lucky, you can go to college. Um, university? This is all only true in the United States, though. Other countries have different rules. Like, Shen Yuan could probably tell you what they do in China these days."

The idea of everyone being schooled is completely alien to him; he was taught to read and write Latin by a monk who visited the nunnery periodically and left him lessons between those visits. College and university are both meaningless words. "What is there to learn for that long?" curiously. "You didn't study scripture."

"Reading, writing, how to do math -- I got all the way up to geometry before I dropped out. Um, science, like about the earth and space and the human body; I was taking biology when I dropped out and I think we were learning about cell division then? Social studies, history -- sometimes those two overlap, I think we were learning about to US Constitution which basically laid out our system of government? And why it was written the way it was and why it focused on the things it did. Um, art, music, other languages... sometimes you take PE classes -- that's, like, exercise and stuff. Sometimes they teach you life skills and social skills and stuff like that, but I didn't learn a lot that really helped me out on the streets. Besides reading, I guess. And the longer you stay in school, the more specialized you can get with the things you're learning."

Galahad twists around to look at him, impressed. "I learned to read and write, but no sums, nothing of the body, and no history except as it was part of the history of the church, like the Council of Nicea. No art or music. I was taught Latin and I learned to speak French because many of the nuns were from France. "

"Yeah, I guess they tried to standardize things at some point," Magnus says, flushing a little under Galahad's focus. "So that every kid has the same base, or something? But they also wanted you to sit still at a desk for most of it, and I was extremely bad at that."

He nods; Magnus does not seem like he would be good at sitting still. "Did you like any of it?"

"I do really like learning! I wish I could have done more of it." Magnus shrugs. "The halls were too busy but I had a really great fourth-grade teacher. And my English teacher in eighth grade rocked."

Another nod. It's a lot to absorb, even if he understands the basic shape of it. He still can't quite imagine what anyone would need to spend twelve years (more than twelve, perhaps, to judge by college) learning, even though Magnus has laid it all out. "If you could go again, what would you want to learn more of?"

"Good question." Magnus scratches his head. "I guess PE would have been really useful for Battle Practice, but I already struggled with that cuz of my asthma, so... and Valhalla has opportunities for reading and learning Norse and poetry and stuff. Halfborn was able to get a doctorate in Germanic literature and everything, so I guess eventually I could have done something like that even without, like, traditional school. Maybe math? I've tried teaching myself math but I think that's the kind of thing you need someone else to explain to you first."

"Why?"

"Which part?"

"Why more math?"

"It's so useful," Magnus says. "When I still ran the Chase Space there was a lot of budgeting and stuff, so that's one reason, but also math is inside everything, I think. And it's something I never really focused on all that much because it didn't come as easy to me as, like, English class stuff. So if I went back I'd pay more attention."

Galahad is having the same confusion that Sagramore and Grantaire have shared, which is that to him the term mathematics mainly encompasses astronomy and astrology, with perhaps a little arithmetic and geometry on the side. On the other hand, astrology is inside everything seems like something Claudius would say. "You should put it on your poster. Something you would trade for."

"I put geometry on there! Maybe I could add algebra, too?" Magnus laughs at his pun, and then explains, "Algebra II comes after geometry."

"What is algebra?" laughing too.

"Oh, it's another kind of math. Solve for X, that kind of thing."

"There are too many kinds of math in your world."

"Arithmetic, algebra, geometry, algebra two, precalculus, calculus, statistics, um, other stuff I didn't hear about because it wasn't offered at my school... I can, like, use the Pythagorean theorem, I guess."

This time he laughs, sinking against Magnus' shoulder. "That's too many kinds."

"Speaking of too many kinds," Magnus says, with a nod to the bestiality on Galahad's lap. "You know what I think would be so fun?"

"What?"

"If Alex ever comes back here," Magnus starts, and then stops, horrified at himself. He presses his lips together in a firm little line and juts his chin forward, obstinately, forcing himself to continue on. "Remember how we were talking about charades? We could call out different animals from this and see if she knows all the old-timey words for them. Like, what would she turn into if you said 'camelopard?' Or, like, even manticore."

"When Alex comes back, we should. I'd like to learn more games."

A deep breath, which he releases slowly. Then, fixing a grin on his face, he says, "Yeah, totally. Maybe we can even let Shen Yuan teach us his version of charades, too."

He nestles up a little more solidly against Magnus' shoulder. He's not as warm and comforting a presence as Magnus is, but he still has a weight to him.

Sorry, Drosera! Magnus twists around and pulls Galahad into a tight hug, heedless of their scolding infant.

She definitely shrieks bad mama!!!! as she's jostled, but Galahad hugs back just as tightly.

After a few minutes, Magnus makes a face at himself and tells himself to draw back. But he doesn't. In a tiny voice, instead, he asks, "What if I never see him again?"

Edited 2024-02-04 17:12 (UTC)

Though he'd corrected if to when a moment ago, he has no actual way of knowing whether Alex will actually come again. It might have been the last time they'd ever seen him, that day with all the visitors -- Galahad had a sense of that even then, and it's why he'd wanted so much to draw Alex while he could. It's why he did so many portraits, to try and capture some part of Alex for Magnus to keep.

He holds onto Magnus, rubbing his fingers through Magnus' hair -- it's getting long again. He doesn't know how to answer. He doesn't want to lie. The thought of never seeing Percival again makes him feel as small and tremulous as Magnus' voice is, but it feels wrong to promise Magnus something that might not happen.

Magnus clings to Galahad until Dro starts complaining in earnest, and so he pulls away with what's undeniably a sniffle. "I've been, like, trying not to dwell on it," he says, stroking Drosera apologetically. "But she was really upset when she left."

"Why was she upset?"

"I--" Magnus pauses, then makes another face. Gotta deal with it sometime, Chase! "Ultimately I think her feelings were -- I hurt them."

Galahad waits, stroking Dro's soft back.

"Like, we're fine, but," says Magnus, leaning back against Galahad, careful not to squash Drosera again. "I've been, like. Building a life here, you know?"

He nods and settles in again.

"Without her. Technically." Magnus doesn't bother mentioning that he's pretty sure Alex was also a little upset that he called Galahad his best friend, because Alex didn't say so out loud (he's just really good at reading her, after all these years) and he's also pretty sure that wasn't about Galahad at all, it was just something easier to latch onto than the rest of the situation.

He tries to remember how it felt to be jealous, when he thought Claudius was sleeping with other people because he wasn't enough -- how it felt to think someone he cared about so much had to look elsewhere, and found it easy to do so, as if in being insufficient he had also become less important, and might lose Claudius' interest altogether. He imagines how it would feel if he were separated from Claudius, and then, when they were rejoined, to find Claudius had made new friends and a new life in in his absence. That wouldn't be the same, he thinks immediately, because Claudius needs people. It would be ridiculous to expect him to keep some long and silent vigil alone; he could never be happy like that. He would fade like a plant with no sunlight to feed its leaves.

But perhaps it's easy to know that in his heart, and harder to feel the truth of it if he were faced with Claudius, happy without him. Easy to want Claudius to find that happiness, and hard not to feel replaced. Alex doesn't know how much Magnus talks about her, or how dreamy his voice gets when he's remembering some amazing thing she did or how she looked, or the way he tried to describe her so Galahad could draw her picture. Like a beautiful poison dart frog. It would be easy to be hurt, and not know how much Magnus misses her.

"She hates that I've decided to stay," quietly. "Even though she understands my reasons."

Galahad has also probably thought about this exact subject more than the average person -- that, the merit of sacrificing oneself for the world. Magnus staying here is to protect his home, and all the people he loves there. It's a choice that Galahad has always considered simple; but then, he's never thought about the people on the other side of that choice before. There haven't been people on the other side, except Percival, who knew and understood what he meant to do.

Now -- he thinks he can understand Alex. Perhaps not agree, but understand. He nods. "Even if it's the right thing to do, she might lose you."

Magnus nods. "Neither of us wanted to break up, at least, I guess," he says, with a heavy sigh.

"Is break up when you aren't lovers anymore?"

"Yeah, it's when you decide to end the relationship."

"But you're still apart."

"Yeah." The huff of laughter Magnus gives at that is pretty wet-sounding. "Worlds flipping apart."

Galahad pulls him into a fresh hug, squeezing him tight.

"Sorry," Magnus says, with another huffy little laugh. "It's just -- I miss her so much, you know? Hanguang-jun said that he could send his brother letters that his brother can read, even if he couldn't get anything back. But Alex told me that when I try to pass out and have visions of how she's doing, they're like, at least, semi-accurate, so they're probably working, but she can't tell I'm there like she sometimes can when we're both in the Nine Worlds."

"I know," softly, and then, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Magnus says, and laughs again, hysteria edging the sound. Forever is a long time when you're only twenty-five years into it!!! "Distract me?"

"I found a recipe I want to try," immediately. "Will you help me?"

"Yes," immediately.

Galahad makes sure Dro isn't about to get trampled, and gets to his feet, offering Magnus his hand.

Magnus takes it, climbing to his feet. "Should we leave her here or bring her?" he asks, glancing at Drosera.

"We should bring her. If she chews on Claudius' things he'll be upset."

"Oh, good call. We don't want him upset with his stepdaughter," distracted, as he leans over to coax her into his arms and then onto his shoulder.

"He talks about her. He asks me how she is. Yesterday he wondered if she'd like catmint from his garden in spring." This is proof that Claudius loves Dro, which is why he's telling Magnus.

"He's a good stepdad," says Magnus, more purposefully this time. Secretly he's a little disappointed; Claudius got so flustered when Magnus called him Dro's stepdad to his face!

Galahad is completely oblivious to what Magnus is suggesting by use of the term stepfather, largely because he and Magnus are Dro's mothers, and they're not married -- if he did make the connection, he'd be equally as flustered as Claudius. As it is, he just nods; he likes the sprawling family they've created for Drosera. "He is good. He loves the rabbits too."

"I've still got to meet them," Magnus says; as it turns out, he'll be running into them a little later that same day. "They sound really cute though." As they walk, Dro starts nuzzling her beak in his hair, and he tries not to squirm. "I wonder if more animals are going to keep turning up now?"

"Is there another one you want?"

"Just Alex," Magnus says, without even thinking about it, and then he has to stop and laugh at himself. "I'm sorry, man, I don't mean to be such a sad sack."

He shakes his head. "You miss her."

"Yeah," Magnus sighs. "Yeah, I really do." He makes a face. "It was kind of easier, thinking about what if I never see her again, before I saw her again. You know?"

"I know."

"If only he'd stuck around long enough for the double date," Magnus sighs, and then smiles as Drosera sticks her beak in his ear. "What's up, baby?"

bug!!!!!!!! down down down bug eat bug!! she shrills.

"Oh no," Magnus says, after he translates this for Galahad. It's impossible to be that morose when you have an excitable baby griffin hanging out with you. "Please protect us from the scary bug by murdering it to death." He kneels so she can scramble down his back to the ground.

Edited 2024-02-08 04:02 (UTC)

Dro is immediately on the bug, which appears to be some kind of house cricket, pouncing and snapping, letting it escape for a few seconds before snatching at it again with her bill.

"I'm glad you'll be safe outside. I was worried."

"The local ecosystem is trembling in fear, but I will be so safe," Magnus says, starting to walk toward the kitchen again but slowly, so that Drosera can catch up.

Eventually she sprints after them, the cricket vanquished and eaten. bug eat bug kill mama!!!!

Galahad eyes her.

Magnus translates what she's said for him, and then tells her, "Yes, you did very well, Your Ferociousness. You saved us from the evil cricket. Will you protect us in the kitchen while Mama Galahad teaches Mama Magnus how to cook something?"

protect!!! protect protect protect!!!!!

"Very good. Do you want to follow us there, or do you want to ride on one of our shoulders?"

ride mama!!!! Drosera flaps her nubby wings, as if she could swoop up onto Magnus' shoulder by herself.

So Magnus scoops her up and helps her onto Galahad's shoulder, instead; he takes Galahad's hand, after that, and walks close enough that Drosera can stumble between the two of them if she's careful.

When they get to the kitchen, Galahad takes down the cookbook he'd been looking through earlier, and flips to the recipe for rainbow cookies. He's unclear on why they're called cookies when they look like little cakes, but the combination of almond cake (he did love the taste of the one at their birthday, even though the texture was awful) and raspberry jam and chocolate is tantalizing and he's been wanting to make them.

Magnus retrieves Drosera from Galahad's shoulder and replaces her with his chin, peering at the cookbook. "Oooh, love a rainbow cookie," he says, with great enthusiasm.

"You've had them?" He brightens. "Are they good?"

"You're definitely going to love them," Magnus decides, after barely a moment's reflection. "I like them, too." They're not his number one favorite, but he's never been mad about eating them.

"You wouldn't color the layers, though. You'd want them all beige."

Magnus cackles, clutching his hands dramatically to his chest. "Viciously attacked by my very best friend," he says, delighted. "The only thing I like more than the soothing beauty of beige surroundings is Red Dye 40, though, so they get a pass."

"Is green all right?"

"Oh, absolutely. Green is a summer color. The Hotel Valhalla t-shirts are green. Alex's hair is green. Green gets a pass."

Edited 2024-02-11 01:38 (UTC)

"Then we won't change anything."

"Also, it's fun to try and see if your brain makes you think that the different colors taste different," Magnus says, with a firm nod. "Okay. Put me to work, dude. You know my limitations in this battlefield." Namely: he needs really specific instructions and fairly easy tasks, still.

"All right. Do you know how to separate eggs?"

"I'm guessing you don't mean just, like, opening their shells," Magnus says, thoughtfully. "But I can crack them really good against my head!" He's joking... mostly.

Right, Magnus will not be getting to do that. "Will you bring me butter, eggs, and milk from the fridge? The butter should be unsalted."

"You can't make an omelette without breaking a few skulls," Magnus says, in tones of someone imparting great wisdom upon an eager young student. He gets the butter, eggs, and milk and places them on the counter.

By then Galahad has the stand mixer set up and has measured out sugar, as well as gotten a couple of bowls to separate eggs.

He hands Magnus a can of almond paste. "Will you open this?"

Edited 2024-02-11 02:55 (UTC)

"Sure," Magnus says, twisting it open easily and passing it back. Then he thinks for a moment, gets two more bowls out, and pulls out another thing of eggs. After a brief detour to thoroughly scrub his hands, he sets up on the other side of where Galahad is working. "You meant separating yolks and whites, right?" he asks. "I'm gonna practice."

He watches Magnus at the sink with a slight frown. "Why did you wash your hands first?"

"Oh! Because of germs," Magnus says. "It's, like, hygienic to make sure that when you're working with food, you've washed your hands. Preferably with soap. Lowers the risk of getting you or anyone else sick, for example. Plus, I've been holding Dro, and who knows the kind of dirt she's rolled in."

"Even when your hands look clean?" glancing down at his own, which show no obvious signs of "germs" or any other contamination.

"Yeah! Germs are microscopic. Way too small to see."

"And they're the cause of sickness?"

"Pretty much one of the major ones." Magnus pauses. "When I was homeless, before I knew I had, like, healing god DNA, I was extra-careful about cleanliness whenever I could manage it because I didn't want to get sick on top of everything else. Not much by way of money for doctors, you know?"

Edited 2024-02-11 04:31 (UTC)

Galahad feels a flash of annoyance that the angel didn't just explain this the way Magnus has, clearly and plainly, instead of speaking in vague portents, and he goes to the sink to wash his own hands before demonstrating how to separate an egg for Magnus.

He cracks the egg sharply against the side of the bowl so that it splits around the middle, but instead of tipping it into the bowl entirely he uses one half of the shell to catch the yolk; the white slides in on its own.

"Okay," Magnus says, nodding intently to himself. The first egg he tries to crack, he uses way too much force, and he stares down at the shell and broken yolk spreading across the counter, stunned, before laughing. "Do you think Dro can eat busted egg?"

"Cats like eggs. I don't know whether birds do. Was that your einherji strength?"

"I think it was mostly just my cooking ineptitude," Magnus says, thoughtfully. But he's pretty sure he can use his einherji reflexes to great effect in the kitchen. "Hey, wanna see something cool? Throw an egg at me."

A long pause. This seems like it's going to derail baking. "Later. Outside."

"I won't make a mess!" Magnus promises, attempting to crack another egg, this time with extremely careful little taps. This time he's successful, and frowns in concentration as he tries to separate the yolk from the white.

The mildly dubious air persists. "Use the edge to hold the white back as you tip the yolk out."

Magnus tries, but the white comes out, too. He automatically drops half the shell and reaches to grab the white, which slips through his fingers. The yolk, however, does not. "That... kind of worked?"

"Kind of," nodding. "It's all right if you have to tip it back and forth a few times until the yolk is by itself."

"Okay," says Magnus, but he takes a break first to clean up the egg all over the counter, and then set the bowl with the yolk he held in his hands down for Drosera to sniff at, to see if it interests her.

This time, when he goes back to try and separate the egg, he's actually mostly successful, and does a fist pump in triumph. "Dude," excitedly.

Dro does like egg yolk, although she would like it more if they had given her the eggshell as well.

Galahad grins at him. "Try again. It's all right if there's egg white in with the yolk, but there can't be yolk in with the white."

"Oh, if that's all," says Magnus. He squints at the eggs for a moment, and tries again. This time goes as smoothly as the last, and he grins.

"Good. One more."

"Aye aye, captain," Magnus says, and does one more. This one is a little messier, mostly because the shell cracks in a weird way. He makes a face as he tries to fish little bits of it out of the bowl of whites.

Eggshell fragments are very good at being elusive in a bowl of whites, and Galahad laughs as he watches Magnus. "If you put water on your fingers it's easier."

"Oh, word?" Magnus goes to rinse his hands and then try again. That really does make things monumentally simpler! "How."

"I don't know. I just read it." While Magnus is doing Egg Things, Galahad begins beating the sugar, almond paste, and a stick of butter in the stand mixer.

The eggs are all Magnus finger-y, now. "Dro, do you want these, too?" he asks her.

She clacks her bill excitedly. wet food!!! give food!!

"Shells or no shells?"

shells!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So Magnus chuckles and crunches the empty eggshells into the bowl with the yolks, and dumps the whites on top. He sets these on the floor for Dro, too, and rinses his hands off again. "Okay dude, I'm done practicing cracking eggs." At least for now, but when he convinces Galahad to throw one at him all bets are off. "How can I help next?"

Edited 2024-02-13 05:39 (UTC)

He glances at the bowls with his own single separated egg in them. "Will you add the rest of the butter to the mixer and let it go until it's smooth? I'll do the other eggs."

"Yeah, for sure. All at once, or a little at a time?"

"One stick at a time." Galahad begins separating eggs. He's deliberate, not graceful, but very good at it.

Magnus watches with open appreciation as he adds the first stick of butter. "Should I wait for each stick to be mixed in before I add the next?" he asks. "Or is just a little mixed okay?"

"It just says add one at a time and mix until smooth."

Magnus decides to let it get smooth after each stick of butter, so he lets the mixer keep going while he watches Galahad separate eggs. "How much did you have to practice that to get that good?"

"Not very much," truthfully. "I go slower than you."

"Huh." Magnus hadn't thought about speed as a factor, and tilts his head, watching Galahad's timing more closely. "I see."

He's right: he's slow but careful, taking his time as he tips the yolk from one half of the shell to the other, so that it doesn't catch on the jagged edge and tear, and as much white as possible slips through into the bowl.

"I still think you should throw an egg at me," Magnus says, adding the second stick of butter to the mixer.

"I will. Later."

Magnus pouts at him. It won't be messy! Really! "I think the butter's good," he says, through the pout.

Galahad hands him the bowl with the egg yolks. "Add one at a time."

Magnus tips the first yolk in, still pouting, mostly because he thinks it's a funny bit. "Not even one little egg?"

Ah, joke! He arranges his face into the sternest expression he can make, which is probably not so different from his default blank one, and says, "No."

Magnus feels his back straighten despite himself, and he reacts by giving Galahad a hangdog sort of expression before tipping the next yolk in. "Fiiiiiiiiiiiine."

Edited 2024-02-15 15:43 (UTC)

Galahad stands a bit taller and folds his arms as his hands were tucked into his sleeves, and gives Magnus his best Lan Wangji. Since this is, in essence, his normal blank expression, there is no reason for Magnus to clock it other than everything he knows about both of them.

So of course Magnus does clock it, and he doubles over laughing. "Dude, if there's another talent show, you should totally do impressions," he says, meaning every word of it.

"You and Claudius are the only people who would like it."

"Fuck the haters," Magnus says, peaceably, and adds the final egg yolk. "You'd make a killing in the mountain jotunn bowling alley with those impressions."

"I have the best vibes," he agrees peaceably.

"Obviously." Magnus peers at the dough. "What next?"

Lan Wangji has returned to working, slowly, on a new composition for the qin, and as such is seated cross-legged and on the floor in a sitting room with the door propped open. He is focused on the strings under his fingers, and on trying to recall one of the specific melodies he heard at the wedding dance while Wei Ying was spinning in his arms, but Magnus has an unmistakable aura. Therefore, Lan Wangji looks up the moment he walks into the room, and despite the absence of a smile on his face, one is unmistakably present in his eyes.

"Magnus." On any other day he might stop at that, but given their last conversation, he continues, just for the pleasure of speaking and knowing Magnus will understand him, "I am glad to see you."

Oooh! That's warmth flooding his chest. "Hey, Hanguang-jun," Magnus says, pronouncing it perfectly, and walks over to Lan Wangji. He stuffs a metaphorical hand into his mouth then to prevent himself from adding, I've brought your granddaughter to see you, but he does ease Drosera into his lap as he sits. "I can understand you again!" Now that his hands are free, he's signing as he talks -- he wants to be able to communicate with Lan Wangji if something like that ever happens again.

Lan Wangji watches Magnus' hands closely, trying to commit every motion to memory. "Her Most Adorable Softness Drosera Dinosaur Hungry Baby Kitty McBirdface Magnahad the Fluffy-Pawed of Shed Kingdom, First of her Name and Cutest in All of the Worlds," he addresses the griffin without missing a beat, and then he is back to Magnus. "I will not take the translation spell for granted again."

"I liked learning some Chinese," Magnus says, as Dro clacks her beak at Lan Wangji. "I'm glad I know how to say your name the right way now."

"You do learn quickly," Lan Wangji says. He already conveyed that sentiment the other day, but it is a relief to say it with no intermediary, and especially with no intermediary in the form of Shen Yuan.

"I want to teach you some sign language."

Lan Wangji looks down at his hands, which are still touching Wangji's strings. Then, again, back to Magnus. He is not certain how adept he will be at this -- he has trained himself to such stillness that he rarely even gestures -- but for Magnus, he is of course willing to try. "That may be useful."

Magnus thinks about where to start. He makes a face at Lan Wangji. "I'd start with the alphabet, but now I definitely know that we don't have the same one," he says, and tilts his head. "Is there even an alphabet in Chinese? I actually don't know."

This takes a moment to process, perhaps as an additional function of the translation spell trying to make Magnus' meaning clear to him. "We have characters," Lan Wangji says. "You saw some that day in my calligraphy. There are thousands."

"In English we have twenty-six letters that combine to form thousands of words," Magnus says. "So 'Magnus' is spelled M-A-G-N-U-S." He finger-spells it as he says it. "With friends and loved ones, you can make up name-signs that combine letters and other signs. Back home my name was M, and the sign for crown." He demonstrates this, and then shifts in to the next sign: "But then when I explained it to Galahad he changed it for me to M, and the sign for sunlight."

The shift in Lan Wangji's expression is so subtle as to be nearly invisible: a softening around the mouth and the eyes. "That is more appropriate." He copies that final sign. The letter has no particular meaning to him, but is easy to replicate; the gesture that means sunlight is logical and therefore equally easy to reproduce.

Hanguang-jun is smiling at Magnus's name! Warmth floods through him again. "I've, uh, kind of been using this for you," he says, and demonstrates the sign: his hand, palm out and fingers spread, thumb tapping against his temple and then dragged across his forehead like a ribbon. All in a rush, and demonstrating as he goes, he adds, "And then for Galahad, it's G, plus the signs for flower and choice, and for Laertes, it's L, plus the sign for make. I keep forgetting to give Shen Yuan one so I just use the first Chinese Sign Language word he taught me. This is CSL for eat." He demonstrates it, then switches to the ASL word for eat. "This is 'eat' in the sign language I grew up learning."

A small part of him wants to be pettily amused that Galahad and Laertes have such thoughtful signs, and that Shen Yuan is relegated to eat, but only a small part. Lan Wangji observes closely as Magnus' hands continue to move, and then copies the sign that Magnus demonstrated for him, skimming his thumb across the fabric of the very forehead ribbon being pantomimed. "I was not aware I had a sign."

"It's not based on any letter or anything," Magnus says, a little apologetically. "But name signs don't have to be based on letters or specific signs, and that felt right." He will not be admitting that he realized one day he'd been using it for some amount of time without even being aware he'd given Hanguang-jun a sign! Or that its base sign is dad! Magnus is pretty sure he, himself, is the only person who uses it. Galahad definitely knows what the sign means, though, even though Magnus hasn't specifically told him, but Galahad also knows pretty much everything there is to know about Magnus just from being observant and thoughtful.

Considering that Lan Wangji's own language does not have the letters Magnus is using, it makes perfect sense to him that the sign for him would not use one of said letters. They are not at the Cloud Recesses; he is the only person here who wears a forehead ribbon. He repeats it again, and then the sign for Magnus' name. The gestures come more easily than he anticipated they might when he focuses on the meaning, like fingering positions on the qin that translate into chords.

Oh. Magnus hadn't expected the total wave of feelings to crest over him at the sight of something that could easily be interpreted as Lan Wangji signing Magnus's dad but with an extra spicy flourish that makes it clear it's him who holds that role. He swallows, hard. "What do you most want to know how to say?" he asks, voice a little hoarse.

There is silence as Lan Wangji thinks about his response, returning both hands to his qin for now. The strings vibrate just lightly under his fingers, then settle. Names are useful, and endearing, but they can translate across languages in a way that most other words and phrases cannot. "I would like to know if someone is asking me for help. And I would like to know how to say I'm here in answer."

"Okay," says Magnus. "I mean, the word for help is"-- he holds out one hand, flat, and puts his other hand in a fist with his thumb up, thumping the fist against his flat hand. "And helpless is," and he curls his lip, making a face as he brings his partially-curled hands up and down in an arc in front of him, fingers straight and separated. "The facial expression is part of the sign," he explains, and purses his lips. He hadn't really taught help to anyone here specifically, and now he's wondering why. "But you should also know that I taught Claudius and Galahad overwhelmed first," and then he walks Lan Wangji through the variations they both know: overwhelmed (positive), overwhelmed (negative), and too much.

Cognizant, thanks to Little John, of the fact that he tends to say too much at once, Magnus stops there, waiting to make sure Lan Wangji is still with him.

Edited 2024-01-20 15:02 (UTC)

Lan Wangji watches all of these intently, committing them to memory. He lifts his hands again to recreate the sign Magnus demonstrated for help, to be certain that he knows it, and then pauses. There's something bordering on embarrassment at the edges of his voice as he says, "If facial expressions are important for this, that will be... difficult for me."

"Will they?" Magnus asks, genuinely curious. He finds Lan Wangji pretty easy to read.

Lan Wangji gives Magnus a skeptical glance, in the form of both eyebrows quirking barely upward. "You have seen me. Most presume me cold and unfeeling because of my expression."

Personally, Magnus is of the opinion that Lan Wangji is a warm and open kind of dude -- like, for example, his skepticism is written clearly all over his face right now -- and doesn't think much of people who don't give themselves the time to recognize that. "Huh," he says, doubtfully. He does recognize that, as with Galahad, Lan Wangji's facial expressions tend to be a little smaller, though, so he says, "Maybe Galahad might have advice, if you're worried about it," he says. "But I think you'll do alright."

This claim is difficult for Lan Wangji to believe, but he will not argue with Magnus. "Mn," he concedes. "How would I say Claudius' name?"

"I don't know if he and Galahad have picked something," Magnus says, thoughtfully. "I can check. Mostly I just sign Hi, C."

"I will ask Claudius." There is no reason to give Magnus another task on Lan Wangji's behalf. "What else?"

"You wanted to be able to say 'I'm here,'" Magnus says, and shows Lan Wangji the sign for I and the sign for here -- both the two-handed version and the single-handed version.

Immediately very focused, Lan Wangji repeats all of these signs, once and then again. This one is important to him. If he could say only one phrase to Wei Ying ever again, this might well be that phrase.

At that point, Drosera decides she's done with Magnus waving his hands in her face; she bonks him with her closed beak. He immediately stops and strokes it, looking down fondly at her. "What's up, Hungry Baby?"

mama play??

Good thing Magnus brought toys! He takes one out of his backpack -- a little stuffed mouse. He dangles it, then tosses it so that she can stumble after it.

"You didn't give me The Talk early enough, Hanguang-jun," he jokes, and then blinks at himself. What the heck are you doing, bringing this up again, Chase... Oh well, he's pushed this sled down this hill, there's no stopping it now! "I ended up with a child."

With interest, Lan Wangji watches Magnus' interaction with Drosera. This occupies enough of his attention that a moment passes before he recalls the entirety of their ill-fated conversation in the kitchen. He shoots Magnus a single glance of tempered horror and then, with as much composure as he can, says, "Perhaps if I had known about condoms, I would have."

Magnus stares at Lan Wangji for a moment and then splutters into laughter. "Dude," he says, appreciatively. "You're good at the, like, sniper dad jokes." Oh, gods, did he really say that? Okay, don't give any indication that you meant anything by it, Magnus! Totally casual conversation with an adult-shaped adult friend happening here, that's all!

Admittedly, Lan Wangji is a little bit pleased with himself to have made Magnus laugh. He tips his head infinitesimally to one side and asks, "What qualifies a joke as a sniper dad joke?"

"Well, by sniper I mean it comes out of nowhere and hits me when I'm not expecting it," Magnus says. He's definitely not going to explain what an actual sniper is to a guy who, blessedly, probably has never heard of them before. "And a dad joke is, like," a joke a dad makes, right? "something that has a groan-worthy punchline. In a good way."

It is almost impossible to imagine Lan Wangji's own father making jokes of any kind -- but then, it is almost impossible to imagine him doing anything, considering that Lan Wangji did not know him at all. He nods, attentive. "You didn't groan," he points out. "You laughed."

"Yeah, well, I find dad jokes funny," Magnus says, in tones of great confession. "Probably because I wasn't inundated by them as a kid."

"Nor was I," Lan Wangji says, almost dryly. If he and Lan Xichen had not been allowed those visits with his mother, he might have made it his entire childhood without ever hearing any adult laughter at all.

"No?" Magnus realizes, then, that he's told Lan Wangji a lot about himself, but he knows comparatively little about Lan Wangji. Maybe that makes sense, in a weird parent-child sort of way, but it doesn't make a lot of sense in a friend sort of way. "I'd like to know more about how you grew up, if you're okay with sharing."

Although he very nearly invited the question, Lan Wangji is still somewhat surprised by it. He looks down at his hands, at the places where his fingertips meet Wangji's strings, and considers how much he would like to reveal. He wants to be honest with Magnus, but he also can barely tolerate the thought of speaking about his parents. "You know of the Cloud Recesses and its rules. When I was a child, there were three thousand of them. Xiongzhang and I were raised by our uncle. He was also our teacher."

"What was that like?"

"Uncle is a renowned teacher of cultivation," Lan Wangji says. He's aware that this doesn't precisely answer the intent of Magnus' question, but he's also uncertain how else to answer. "I would be a poorer cultivator without his guidance."

"Oh, speaking of, I've been meaning to ask," says Magnus. Since Drosera is off to the side trying gamely to rip her toy in half, he's pretty sure he has time to raise up into a handstand real quick. It's clear he's been practicing: his form is sturdier and more accurate now. "How am I doing? What should I focus on fixing next?"

This is a surprise of a slightly more pleasant variety. Lan Wangji stands and steps out from behind his qin so that he can make a circuit around Magnus, examining his form. "You have improved," he says, an understated compliment but an entirely sincere one. "Rotate your elbows out slightly more. Once you have mastered this, we can work on one-handed handstands."

"Rotate out like -- this?" Magnus asks, attempting what he thinks Lan Wangji means.

"Mn." Lan Wangji watches, observing him for a breath or two. Magnus' feet are trying to drift apart; he takes hold of them and returns them to one another, and then he is satisfied. "Now see how long you can hold it."

Magnus concentrates on holding his legs steady. "Your uncle taught you to do this?" He can't imagine Uncle Randolph doing anything like that.

"Along with other elders of my sect." Lan Wangji takes a single step back, continuing to keep his eyes on Magnus. He remains close enough to catch him if he has an uncontrolled fall.

"So were you, like," Magnus screws his face up, trying to think of the term. "Communally raised?"

"To an extent. Uncle was our primary caretaker." And Lan Qiren loved them. Lan Wangji knows that he did. But there was such stark contrast between his demeanor, his strictness and his expectations, and their monthly respite in their laughing mother's company.

It feels like there's maybe more to that story, so Magnus stays quiet for a little while, occupying his time by trying, carefully, to do a sort of push-up while still maintaining his handstand.

Unsurprisingly, then, Lan Wangji is quiet as well. He spares a glance for Drosera, to ensure she is still occupied and not destroying anything she isn't meant to destroy, and then returns to watching Magnus. This little demonstration of his strength is not exactly surprising after what he knows of Magnus, but he is silently both impressed and amused at Magnus' apparent inability to hold still.

Okay, so Hanguang-jun isn't talking! "I'd like to know more."

Ah, apparently Lan Wangji has not escaped further questions about his childhood after all. At least Magnus already knows that his mother is dead. After a pause, and a little bluntly, he says, "Our mother died when I was six years old. We saw her once a month until then."

"Only once a month?!" Magnus can't imagine that at all. He would have hated that.

"That is what the clan elders permitted." If Lan Wangji did not feel an obligation to keep watching Magnus, he would be looking away by now.

"No offense, Hanguang-jun, but that sounds pretty fucked up," Magnus frowns.

Lan Wangji has absolutely no interest in passing any kind of verbal judgment on the situation between his father, his mother, and the Gusu Lan elders. He releases a very slow breath. "It is in the past," he says, somewhat shortly. Between her death and Wei Ying's arrival in his life, there was nothing. Books, qin, meditation, and more of the same. "Wei Ying came to study at the Cloud Recesses when we were fifteen."

Okay! Message received loud and clear! "I technically met Alex when I was fifteen," Magnus offers. "At a youth shelter on Winter street. Um, that's in Boston, where I'm from. But Alex says it doesn't count because we didn't talk until she died."

Lan Wangji truly did not intend to be rude to Magnus, but even that short exchange stretched the limits of his ability to talk about his mother. He seizes this piece of information about Alex with some gratitude. "It counts," he says, quite sure of this, "if you took notice of her then."

"I recognized her when she got to Valhalla?"

Lan Wangji nods, accepting that of course this corroborates his belief that their first meeting was meaningful. He pauses, then, his eyes still on Magnus, and manages to say, with some effort, "It is not easy for me to discuss my mother. Wei Ying learned of her situation from my brother rather than from me."

Magnus lets this sink in for a second, and then kicks himself carefully out of his handstand. "Thanks for telling me about her," he says, sitting down next to Lan Wangji and leaning against him. "Like, it's obviously super different situations, but. I get that." He pauses. "My friends back home only know about my mom because Hel taunted me with her a few times."

In that case, of course Lan Wangji sits right back down alongside Magnus. He recognizes this name too, Hel, from the reading he did; as always, he is glad that he did it and does not need to stop Magnus there to ask for clarification. He does, however, frown and glance at Magnus. "That was cruel."

Magnus shrugs. "She and Loki were trying to manipulate me," nonchalant. "Into giving up Jack and letting Fenris Wolf go free. It didn't work, which I guess is a bigger deal than them trying."

Not that Lan Wangji is surprised to hear this, but it still sparks a little rush of pride and fondness. "I did say that you are brave."

A blush appears! "It's not bravery, just... I'm Middle Ground Guy. I guess I'm more impervious to that kind of thing."

"Middle Ground Guy?" Lan Wangji can make a reasonable guess about what Magnus means by this, but he would like to hear him explain it himself.

"Yeah, like," Magnus says, and stops to actually think through how to phrase this. He goes slow, since Little John had told him he's prone to speeding through things. "Summer exists between the extremes of the fires of Muspellheim, which is the primordial World of fire, where all the fire giants live. Like Surt, the one who killed me and who's going to eventually kill my dad, too. And the ice of Niflheim, which is the primordial World of ice, so cold that even I almost froze to death there. Peace exists between the extremes of the kind of war-like-ness that the Aesir gods and most einherjar prefer, and inaction. Since Frey is the Summer-and-Peace God I'm, like, fundamentally Diplomacy Dude. I don't pick sides or go to extremes, usually. Hel rules Helheim, which is a completely cold and lifeless World where all the dishonorable dead go. She represents an extreme, in Ragnarok, because it's the dead of Helheim who the einherjar of Valhalla are fated to fight against until everyone's, like, dead for real and disintegrating into Ginnungagap. So I guess I'm probably at least a little resistant to her, um. Methods."

As he always does, Lan Wangji listens attentively to every word Magnus says. He doesn't actually need every explanation Magnus gives for the terms he is using, but he doesn't stop him, either. He likes listening to Magnus, the way he likes listening to Claudius or Wei Ying or even, occasionally, Crowley. The explanation does nothing to convince him that Magnus is not brave.

"Diplomacy is not my strong suit," he says, with just the faintest hint of wryness about it.

"Really?" Magnus asks, incredulous. "But you're so--" he gestures, indicating all of Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji raises both eyebrows just a little. He looks down at himself at Magnus' indication. He cannot imagine what Magnus is attempting to convey, so he only glances back at him and waits to see if he will complete the sentence.

Sorry, Hanguang-jun! Magnus is pretty sure he's made himself abundantly clear. "You know?"

The corner of Lan Wangji's mouth twitches. "I do not know," he tells Magnus, very seriously.

"Thoughtful? Measured? Nice? Considerate? Attentive?"

A little surprised, Lan Wangji looks at Magnus in silence for a beat. "Thank you," he says, utterly sincere, "but none of those qualities lend themselves to diplomacy. I am stubborn. I don't care to waste words. I try to avoid lying."

"I don't, mean, like, Claudius's kind of diplomacy," Magnus clarifies. This is probably important to say, not least because Claudius's form of diplomacy seems to involve a lot of sex? "Or, like, formal diplomatic ties between nations, or whatever." He doesn't know anything about that. "I mean real diplomacy. Um, not that Claudius's isn't real. Um, I think I mean not-political diplomacy?"

That distinction does, actually, clarify the issue considerably for Lan Wangji. "Mn. I also do not care for politics." He says this a little bit dryly, as he considers it exceedingly obvious.

"Who does?"

"I have known such men." Magnus is warm at his side. Lan Wangji watches Drosera as she continues to play. "Those who want power are the least suited to wielding it."

"Oh, big agree," Magnus nods. "Like, insane cop energy, every last one."

Lan Wangji gives Magnus a sidelong glance. "Would you like to explain what that means?" He can accept it if Magnus does not, but he may as well give him the opportunity.

"Oh, right." Magnus makes an apologetic face. "Claudius didn't know it either. Um, do you know what a police officer is?"

Magnus has said the word police to him before, but specifics seemed unimportant at the time. "I don't," Lan Wangji admits.

"Well, they're all assholes, for starters," Magnus says. "All cops are bastards. They're supposed to, like, keep the peace or whatever. Protect people, solve crimes, that kind of thing. But actually none of them ever want to help anyone, especially if they're asking if they can help you. Mostly what they are is dangerous bullies, and mostly what they do is rough up whoever they don't like. Homeless people, queer people, people in mental health crisis... and it's way worse if you're not white or if you're gender nonconforming, and they're particularly dangerous if they're scared. Which I guess they usually are." He sighs. "A couple had it out for me specifically when I was homeless, and I had the benefit of, like, looking mostly nonthreatening to their stupid little brains. Since I was a scrawny fifteen-year-old white kid with one change of shirt to my name, or whatever."

Again, Lan Wangji has known such men, even if they went by different names and titles. Cultivators who receive requests for help and laugh if the reward is insufficient or the monster unglamorous; the Lanling Jin soldiers who rounded up the remaining members of the Wen clan and kept them like animals as recompense for a war already over; surely Wen Chao alone would qualify as a police officer, based on this description. He turns a little, just so that he can see Magnus' face. "And these police officers believed you had destroyed your own home," he says.

Magnus gives Lan Wangji a look of faint surprise. "You remember that?"

Lan Wangji is also faintly surprised, but he keeps that out of his own expression. "Of course." He has tried his best to remember everything Magnus has said to him.

Magnus flushes, then studies his hands. "Yeah," he says. "They thought I blew up my apartment. Because of, like, some stuff. School disciplinary records, stuff like that."

Lan Wangji's jaw tightens as he considers this. He can too easily imagine these police officers being cruel to Magnus, giving him no chances to defend himself. Just as with seemingly every powerful figure in Magnus' life, they were meant to protect him and they hurt him instead. He is a little too overcome with anger about it to speak; instead, he reaches for Magnus' hand.

Oooh, Lan Wangji is a handholdy kind of guy, too? Excellent. Magnus lets him take his hand, and leans against him. "I do have authority issues," he allows. "But that's because pretty much most authority has issues."

"Mn." Lan Wangji can agree with that sentiment easily. "I have witnessed impossible cruelty from those in power." Honestly, he is not exactly prone to holding hands with anyone but Wei Ying -- and, notably, Claudius, once. Still, after the translation spell's recalcitrance the other day, it comes to him more easily now as a way to communicate with Magnus when words are failing him.

"Yeah," Magnus nods. "So 'insane cop energy' means that they have the same sort of bearing as a cop."

Lan Wangji nods with understanding. He thinks, for a moment or two, about everything they have just discussed. "You are brave," he says again, slightly more steely and insistent about it. For what he has endured, for remaining Middle Ground Guy despite the buffeting forces of gods and fate and multiple realms, for committing to finding a new path here and now.

"If you say so, Hanguang-jun."

Lan Wangji does not belabor the point. If he didn't mean it, he would not have said it in the first place. He tightens his hold on Magnus' hand and stays quiet for the time being.

Drosera ambles over then, so Magnus pulls her into his lap with his free hand and lets her gnaw on the leather cuff he's wearing around his wrist. "Do I ever say stuff where you're like, 'what the heck is that guy even talking about?'"

Interested, Lan Wangji watches the movements of Drosera's beak before considering the question. It comes close to making him smile. "Often," he says, clearly not complaining about it. "Less often since I educated myself about the Norse gods and their realms."

"Sorry," Magnus says, even though it is clear Lan Wangji doesn't mind. "You spend a ton of time in a place with people who have a shared frame of reference and then you lose track of what other people would know about it." He makes a careful face. "Little John said I tell stories too fast, and then, like, we got a couple new people here and the things they say are so confusing, so I wondered if I was like that sometimes, too."

It has never occurred to Lan Wangji to be bothered by this tendency of Magnus', but he can hardly dispute its existence. "Sometimes." He offers his own free hand to Drosera, the way he would to one of the rabbits to sniff. "If I could not understand your meaning, I would stop you."

"Okay," says Magnus, mollified. "That's alright, then."

Lan Wangji gives him one fond little glance, a smile threatening at the corners of his eyes despite his persistently solemn mouth. "You seem refreshingly understandable to me still now that the mansion is translating again."

At that, Magnus laughs. "That was wild," he agrees. "I kept running into everyone here that speaks Chinese for most of the day. Luckily Shen Yuan knows a little English and sign, and Qi Yan and me both know how to talk to--"

He cuts himself off and slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. He's pretty sure the fact that she speaks horse isn't public information.

Lan Wangji is somewhat grateful that it is easy for him to keep his own expression placid. "If Qi-xiansheng would not want me to know, then do not tell me."

Magnus gives Lan Wangji a thankful sort of look. "Sorry I just, like, talked at you forever even when you couldn't understand me, though."

It takes Lan Wangji a moment to sort out the sentiment he wants to express here. He looks down at their joined hands as he thinks, then back up at Magnus. "I minded that I couldn't understand, but I did not mind listening to you," he says, then. To some extent, he is grateful for Shen Yuan's intervention, but surely the less said about Shen Yuan, the better. If he thinks too much on him, he will remember what Shen Yuan said over Magnus' head knowing that he wouldn't understand it, and he will become irritable again.

Magnus takes a deep breath. "I, um. Kind of was taking advantage of the translation breakdown. I kind of was telling you that you're a little bit like a father figure to me," he says, all in a rush. "Like, the mythological kind that doesn't suck."

Lan Wangji could not have said what he expected Magnus to have been telling him in the absence of translation, but he knows that this was not it. Startled, he stares at him, for once not entirely certain what his own expression is doing, which leaves it a little softer than usual, a little more open. He knows how complicated Magnus' feelings about his father are. He knows how complicated his feelings about his own father are. If a father is simply an elder, meant to be revered and respected from afar, then Lan Wangji's feelings for Qingheng-jun were appropriate. Anything beyond that is a snarl of fear, anger, and abandonment that sits in one of the quietest and least-explored parts of his heart.

He knows that he can be competent, brisk, and gentle all at once as a teacher and as a senior disciple. Sizhui is special to him in a way that unavoidably recalls the way that he feels about Magnus, but he would not name himself Sizhui's father outside of Wei Ying's jokes on the topic. He hesitates, realizing abruptly that his grip on Magnus' hand has changed, bordering suddenly on crushing. Although he knows Magnus can endure it, he instructs himself to relax. He is faintly embarrassed to feel a certain tightness in his throat. "I am?"

Magnus nods, once or twice, ending with his chin tucked against his chest. He glances up at Lan Wangji like that, a little sheepish, a little embarrassed. "Is that okay?"

"Yes," Lan Wangji says, this time without hesitation, because if nothing else, he doesn't want Magnus to be ashamed or afraid. Then he is quiet again, helpless for a moment. "I..." Uncharacteristically, he struggles briefly mid-sentence. He wants to say that he hopes to be worthy of this. He wants to say that he already knows Magnus better, and loves him more, than Qingheng-jun ever knew or loved him. "It is an honor," he manages, once he has his voice under better control.

"Aw, shucks," Magnus says. He moves Drosera carefully to the side, despite her obvious and rather noisy protests, and flings himself into a big bear hug.

In fact, this is easier to answer than any of the rest of it. Lan Wangji releases Magnus' hand, but only so he can wrap him up in that hug, indulging himself by squeezing him as tightly as he would like, which is very. If ever he sees Sizhui again -- a briefly horrible thought, because he needs to see Sizhui again one day -- his disciple will be getting quite the surprise when Hanguang-jun immediately sweeps him up into an embrace.

"So uh anyway," Magnus says, muffled against Lan Wangji's shoulder. "Yeah."

"Mn," Lan Wangji says, as if in thoughtful agreement with some eloquent sentiment. He holds onto Magnus for a moment longer, and then lets him go, gently disentangling the two of them. This separation is only so that he can think for a moment, focused, and then shake back his sleeves and lift his hands to sign Magnus as he was taught, and then I'm here, just as he asked.

Oooh, something else to focus on! "Hey, look at that!" Magnus enthuses. "Quick study there, Hanguang-jun."

Lan Wangji gives him a bit of a look, although it's fond. "As are you," he points out.

It must be said that Magnus's focus right now is zilch. His mind is jumping from thought to thought. He feels, a little, like he's just run a marathon. "How was, uh, the rest of the translation breakdown?" he asks. "For you?"

Lan Wangji is more than used to spending time with a person whose thoughts are given to unnecessary acrobatics, so this hardly fazes him. "I could not understand Claudius," he says. Naturally, that was extremely irritating. "Crowley took some advantage of the situation."

Crowley? Oh, right. "Why?" Magnus asks. "I mean, I can see why you wouldn't understand Claudius. Why did Crowley take advantage?"

There's a brief pause as Lan Wangji considers the question. The obvious, and true, answer is that Crowley is a demon. Who can possibly say why Crowley does anything that he does? Dryly, he says, "I think it may have been an expression of friendship."

"Huh." So kind of like Shen Yuan, then? "I don't really know Crowley."

Admittedly sounding somewhat surprised, Lan Wangji says, "I believe that I do." If nothing else: "His Aziraphale created Xiaoxue and Danding for me." Well, Aziraphale probably wasn't thinking of Lan Wangji particularly when the rabbits were created, but they were still for Lan Wangji.

"Oh, right!" Magnus says, and barely refrains from saying 'my rabbit brethren.' "I haven't met them yet but Galahad said they're super cute." He's paraphrasing, but the thrust of the message was there.

"They are." Lan Wangji looks at Drosera. "You are welcome to meet them, but Drosera is not permitted to eat them."

"Oh, Dro won't touch them," Magnus promises. "Right, Dro?"

She blinks at him slowly. hungry baby mama play?

"Exactly not that," Magnus says, nodding. He glances up at Lan Wangji. "Can we meet them? If she gets used to them now I bet she'll learn that they're off limits really fast."

Lan Wangji takes a moment to eye Drosera from a more assessing point of view. He would prefer not to draw his sword on Magnus' pet, but he is fairly certain he could do so quickly enough to prevent harm to the rabbits if circumstances necessitated it. After that moment has passed, then, he nods and gets to his feet. "I will retrieve them."

So while Lan Wangji is gone, Magnus eases Drosera into his lap and settles her down with scratches in her favorite places. "You're gonna be meeting your... uncles, I guess?" he murmurs, voice pitched low and soothing. "If you're really nice and you don't scare them or try to eat them, I'll give you a really good treat later."

Drosera wiggles around in his lap, baring her belly, yellow eyes squinting at him. floppy fish??? baby kill?????

"Floppy fish," Magnus confirms. "Just for you, okay? But you have to be nice. Rabbits are off-limits, like squirrels, okay?"

fish baby!!!! Drosera says, kicking one of her back paws against Magnus's leg. Which seems like enough of a promise to him?

Less than half an incense time later, Lan Wangji returns with an armful of exceptionally small rabbits. Xiaoxue, the more timid of the two, is tucked into the crook of his elbow such that his face is hidden in Lan Wangji's robe; Danding is nestled alongside his brother¹, nose twitching with interest and bright black eyes already on Magnus as they reenter the room. He does stop after a step or two, his own eyes on Drosera.

¹Are two rabbits of the same breed but different coloring, conjured simultaneously out of the same hat by a careless angel, siblings? Who can say?

Edited 2024-02-01 00:40 (UTC)

"Oh, they're so tiny," Magnus says, eyes huge. He wants to reach out for them, but he keeps a hand steady on Drosera's back and the other gently stroking the feathers of her chest. "See, Dro? They're friends. Family. Like Mothwing! They're also hungry babies, okay? Just like you. Understand?"

To the rabbits, he says, "Hi! I'm Magnus. This is Her Royal Beakiness Princess Drosera Dinosaur Hungry Baby Kitty McBirdface Magnahad the Fluffy-Pawed and Murder-Taloned of Shed Kingdom, First of her Name and Cutest in all the Worlds. I know she might look scary but we come in peace."

Presumably startled by hearing a human he can actually understand, Xiaoxue peeks his head out. Then he spots Drosera. Oh, no, thank you! His face promptly returns to Lan Wangji's sleeve and its silken safety.

Danding, somewhat more stoic about the situation, twitches his nose at rapid speed and stares with wary interest at the tableau presented to him. Murder-Taloned doesn't sound very peaceful!¹

Lan Wangji, meanwhile, simply maintains his position a few paces away from Magnus and Drosera. Perhaps a slow introduction is best. Namely, one slow enough that Drosera's beak and claws come nowhere near the rabbits on this particular day. He does shift his arms such that he can stroke Xiaoxue's head, however.

¹There's a reasonable chance the rabbits sound British, given their source.

"Murder only to little fishies," Magnus says reassuringly. "Right Drosera?"

Dro is watching the rabbits with avid interest. baby food??? she asks, then makes a small little chattery noise. baby friend!!!

"Baby friend," Magnus confirms. "Tell you what, Dro, you can eat anything that tries to hurt them, okay? You can protect them."

A little flicker of amusement crosses Lan Wangji's expression. "Then Drosera and I will share a goal," he notes. Naturally, the care and protection of these rabbits is of the utmost importance.

Xiaoxue still has his face tucked away, but Danding's ears are slightly up, an expression of cautious interest. We're not fish! This is presumably a general agreement that Drosera is perhaps not going to eat them specifically. Lan Wangji, unaware that his rabbits are talking, only continues gently stroking poor Xiaoxue's head.

"Of course you're not fish," Magnus says. "You're an incredibly cute and off-limits for eating bunny. What's your name?"

"Xiaoxue," Lan Wangji answers for them, and then pets Danding's cheek as he says, "Danding."

At this, Xiaoxue pokes his head out again, his nose also twitching, and says, What he said! They most certainly know their own names. Lan Wangji talks to them, often, when nobody else is around.

"Hi Xiaoxue," Magnus says, with a grin. "Do you wanna meet Dro?"

Lan Wangji, slightly skeptical, looks at Drosera and does not move just yet. "You are certain of her?"

Only if she knows we're not fish! This from Danding, his nose and whiskers now twitching at an absolutely absurd speed.

"She knows you're not fish," Magnus says, still carefully stroking Drosera. "Right, Dro?"

Drosera cocks her head and peers at him with one eye. fish wet, she says, like he's some kind of idiot. friends dry.

"Yep, she knows." He glances up at Lan Wangji. "She won't attack."

Trusting Magnus, although still a little wary on the whole, Lan Wangji nods and closes the remainder of the distance between them. With the rabbits still in his arms, he kneels, such that Xiaoxue and Danding are in range for Drosera to investigate or Magnus to touch.

Drosera lifts her head and peers at the rabbits, squirming in Magnus's hold. He loosens his grip but doesn't let go of her, watching as she rolls over onto her back, extending one talon toward the rabbits. But, like, in a nice way? mama play friends play??? she asks.

"She wants to play," Magnus tells the bunnies.

Lan Wangji very much has his eyes on that talon, although he looks briefly at Magnus when he speaks. "Rabbits are timid," he says. "They may take some time to become comfortable with that." He will consider this to have been a resounding success of a meeting if neither rabbit panics completely. Indeed, both are simply staring at Drosera, flattening themselves a little into Lan Wangji's arms.

"Hey, Hungry Baby, I have an idea," Magnus says. Keeping a hand on her back, he leans over to rummage through his backpack for one of her toys. This one is shaped like a fish, not a mammal. "Why don't you show Xiaoxue and Danding how nicely and gently you play with your toys?"

mama play??

"Yes, mama will play, too," Magnus says. He picks the fish up gently and strokes its fuzzy side. "See? Mama's playing."

Drosera gives him a doubtful look. She stretches her wings out, twisting her body again, and then bats at the fish with a talon. It's rambunctious but it's not violent? That's probably the best they can hope for.

The rabbits remain quiet and wary, but Danding, at least, is longer quite so flat as he and Xiaoxue continue to watch Drosera. Lan Wangji does the same. As he said, they will require time. He settles into a cross-legged position from where he had been kneeling and sets the rabbits into his lap, one hand gentle on the back of each one, for soothing purposes. "Magnus, you may touch them gently if you would like. Drosera, be patient."

"Oh," Magnus demurs. "I probably smell like Dro. Um, are you guys okay with me petting you anyway?"

Xiaoxue lifts his head just the slightest bit, still notably on guard with his ears forward. Let us smell you first?

So Magnus reaches a hand forward, careful and slow, keeping his other hand soft on Dro's back, stroking the fluff that Galahad has assured him will one day look more like feathers.

Danding is the first to begin sniffing Magnus' hand, but Xiaoxue joins him a moment later, noses and whiskers quite busy with the investigation. Lan Wangji lifts his hands to let them shuffle forward, and watches as their ears slowly settle into less cautious positions back against their heads.

"You may touch them," he advises after a protracted moment, and neither rabbit protests.

So Magnus runs careful fingers over the tops of first Danding's head, then Xiaoxue's. "They're so soft," he marvels.

Drosera squirms in his lap. baby soft!!!

"Yes, you too," Magnus allows, scratching the itchy spot where her feathers meet her fur.

Lan Wangji observes this with his own feeling of softness tucked away quietly, because he still paying very close attention to everyone present at this gathering. "They are soft," he agrees, though, and then he pets Danding's cheek with two fingers to show that they like to be stroked there particularly.

Magnus glances up at Lan Wangji, then mirrors the motion with Xiaoxue.

Friend, Xiaoxue opines, leaning his small face into the touch, and Danding agrees, although he's still snuffling at Lan Wangji's fingers himself. Rabbits aren't the most mentally complex creatures in the world, but they are terribly sweet.

"Friend?" Magnus grins, stroking carefully. "Even though I have a tiny griffin daughter?"

mama play???

"They like anyone who is gentle with them." Lan Wangji pauses, considering. "Can you feed them in front of Drosera? They also like those who feed them."

Magnus hesitates. "Drosera?" he asks. "Are you okay with your bunny-brothers eating in front of you? I'll give you meat as soon as we get home. They don't eat stuff you'll like."

hungry baby try?? mama feed???

Magnus looks up at Lan Wangji. "Her Royal Fluffiness would like to try rabbit lettuce, or whatever."

Lan Wangji nods, then. He doubts Drosera will like what he has to offer, but that is naturally her conclusion to make. He opens his qiankun pouch, then pulls out a smaller pouch from which he produces a small handful of mustard greens. He offers a leaf to Drosera, frankly curious to see if she will eat it at all, and then the remainder to Magnus for rabbit-feeding purposes.

As Magnus releases his hold on Drosera to offer one leaf each to the rabbits, Dro gives the leaf Lan Wangji is proffering a suspicious bite.

bad food!!! bad!!!!!! she says, but she yanks the leaf out of Lan Wangji's hand anyway, and drags it off of Magnus's lap before he can stop her. Off to the side, she sets about trying to murder it to death, rolling on her back with it clutched in her talons, kicking at the stem with her back paws, tearing off chunks with her torso. She's doing a little chirruping, grunting growl as she attacks it. It's the cutest thing Magnus has ever seen, actually, but he angles himself so that the rabbits can't really see it just in case.

Lan Wangji also finds himself rather charmed by Drosera's performance, but he is grateful that Magnus is shielding Xiaoxue and Danding from viewing it. Meanwhile, the rabbits in question are busily eating their leaves from Magnus, very clearly becoming more relaxed and content in the process. Lan Wangji meets Magnus' eye with a look that borders on a smile.

"Look at them!!!" Magnus whispers, utterly charmed. "They're gonna be best friends."

Of that, Lan Wangji is not so certain, but he has no interest in telling Magnus that he is wrong. "They will require time," he repeats, "but they are doing well." Xiaoxue has dropped a piece of mustard green in Lan Wangji's lap; he plucks it and feeds it to him.

"Well, obviously," Magnus says, not looking away from all the babies. "Rome wasn't built in a day, or whatever."

Lan Wangji tucks away the idiom for future usage, glad that he stumbled accidentally upon a history of the Roman Empire in the mansion library some weeks ago. The rabbits are most certainly still slightly unsettled, their attention riled, because they aren't settling calmly into Lan Wangji's lap the way they usually might after being fed, but they're less rattled by Drosera's presence, at the least. He gives Danding a congratulatory pet on the head for having been quite courageous today. "Galahad drew these two and presented me with the drawing at your birthday celebration." He doesn't actually say and I was very touched, but he intends the sentiment of it in his ensuing pause.

Magnus picks up Lan Wangji's meaning immediately, of course; he's made a study of his quiet guys and the meanings of their silences. "He's great that way, huh."

Lan Wangji realizes now that he is uncertain whether Magnus knows anything at all about the quietly tumultuous history between himself and Galahad. If not, there is no reason to bring it up, but it does color the relief he feels as he says, firmly, "He is."

Magnus, as always, knows absolutely nothing about the social histories of his friends or fathers. He can sense that Lan Wangji is having an emotion, though, and gives him a quizzical look before deciding that it probably has to do with the way the little bunny noses are twitching and Drosera is starting to peer curiously at them again now that her leaf is in shreds around her.

Too little of this story is his own to tell, so Lan Wangji settles for saying, "I once believed Galahad would prefer never to see me again." It's rare that it comes as a relief to have been wrong, but this is an unusual circumstance. He looks down, fond at the brave wariness of his rabbits.

"Whoa, what? Really?"

"Mn." He tears off and offers another small piece of mustard green to Danding, who takes it eagerly. It can't go amiss to teach the rabbits to associate Drosera's presence with food.

"Why?" He reaches to scratch Drosera's belly, and laughs as she kicks her hind paws against his arm. When he pulls his hand free, he rescues some shreds of the leaf she destroyed and passes them to the rabbits, too.

The rabbits, unsurprisingly, are thrilled to accept Drosera's vegetable carnage. Lan Wangji watches them for a beat before he answers, "Claudius asked me to help him. I went about it poorly." Even still, he has trouble imagining how he could have done otherwise. He knows where he erred, but it is as he told Claudius: he was the wrong man for the task.

"Huh." Magnus is wildly curious, but he doesn't want to press.

Lan Wangji looks at Magnus with a nearly apologetic, if not quite, flicker of an expression. He knows that that is unsatisfyingly little information. Perhaps he can ask Galahad about it, since the two of them are close. He glances back down at Xiaoxue and Danding. "They have done well. I will put them away for now, this time." He would rather not push his luck.

Magnus gives them each another scratch on the head. "Say goodbye to your new friends, Drosera," he tells her, and then, "It was lovely to meet you both," to the rabbits.

Drosera straightens up and cocks her head at the bunnies. baby play!!! she insists.

"Next time," Magnus tells her, scooping her back into his lap and holding her steady. "You have to show me how gentle you can be with your toys first, okay Dro?"

She's clearly displeased by this, so Magnus gives the rabbits an apologetic look. "She's very young," he tells them. "But she likes you a lot."

Murder-Taloned, Danding repeats back to Magnus, but in a much less horrified sort of way this time around. He will eventually come around, most likely.

Xiaoxue, arguably more polite, chimes in with, Thank you for the food!

Still unaware of a significant portion of the conversation occurring in this room, Lan Wangji scoops the rabbits up as he stands. He does address Drosera, however, to say, "Thank you for your restraint."

"Your rabbits are extremely polite," Magnus tells Lan Wangji, stroking Drosera's fledgling feathers soothingly -- she looks like she wants to get up to follow the rabbits.

Lan Wangji stops and thoughtfully considers this, taking it at face value. "That could be attributed to either Claudius' influence or my own."

"Por que no los dos?" Okay, that's definitely weird! He said it in Spanish but it sounds English to his ears. Obviously he knows about the translator now, but -- still! Trippy!

Lan Wangji, who hears it in Mandarin as he hears everything around the mansion, merely nods in contemplation of the question posed. "Mn." With that, he's off to deposit the rabbits safely back in their hutch, which is free entirely of griffins, friendly or otherwise.

Magnus rises with him. "I should probably get her back," he says, a little regretful. "Cool hangs, Hanguang-jun. Thanks for letting us meet--" my brothers? "--the bunnies!"

Lan Wangji gives him one of those near-trademark looks that is a smile without being a smile. "You're welcome," he says, meaning of course that he is already looking forward to the next time he sees Magnus.

(Almost) Everything Is Comin' Up Chase [closed post]

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