I'm About As Organized As Ran, I Guess? [closed post]

[summerdude]

"And then we realized Frigg was knitting with clouds. Actual factual clouds," Magnus says, passing another box that, as it turns out, holds nothing useful down to Galahad. He climbs up another rung on the little stepladder and starts in on the next shelf. "How many boxes of Legos do we have so far?" He knows it's certainly not enough for a bachelorette party yet, but surely there's something they can go on. He'd kind of tonight that this far after Dark, there would be... more? "Do you think we should find another room to look in? Maybe the game room isn't the best choice."

Comments

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad gives him a look. "Jack is loud."

[summerdude]

"Yes," says Magnus. "And he'll teach you different stuff."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Do you think he's a better teacher than Lan Wangji?"

[summerdude]

"Hanguang-jun barely taught me sword stuff before I stopped," says Magnus, as they leave the playground door and he labels it FUN ZONE INSIDE!!!!! GROWN UP PLAYGROUND!!!!!. "I'm not saying that he's better, just that he's different. Different forms, different methods. Give you a broader base."

[onthewillowsthere]

Part of the reason Galahad wants Lan Wangji to teach him is that Lan Wangji understands him -- more than anyone else here, Galahad thinks that Lan Wangji is like him, that they're almost the same. He definitely does not think that's true of Jack. "Perhaps," he says, but it's not really possible for him to look or sound enthusiastic about something that he doesn't want to do.

[summerdude]

Magnus laughs, mostly genuine. "You don't have to," he says. "I just thought... because I can't... Jack could."

Like. He could. He should be able to. He can definitely figure out a way to be able to, right? Except Galahad will probably never let him, on account of how adamant Magnus has been about stopping fighting. But if Galahad is starting again...

[onthewillowsthere]

"I don't want you to," immediately. Magnus is supposed to be doing things like this -- exploring, playing, growing things. Whatever he wants. Not preparing for something to go wrong.

[summerdude]

Magnus nods, honestly... a little sad????? He grins. "Hence the Jack offer."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Maybe." He struggles with the words for a moment, with the feeling of letting Magnus down, and finally asks, "If I don't, will it bother you?"

[summerdude]

For a split second, Magnus almost says yes, it feels like you're going somewhere you don't want me to follow, and not even letting me help the way I definitely can, but then he shrugs it off. "It's fine," he says, slinging an arm around Galahad's shoulders and pulling him in for a little squeeze. "Jack likes teaching, but if you don't then I don't have to figure out an explanation for why."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I want to do things with you that aren't Fighting Guy things," he says, confident that Magnus understands by the way he's so quick to squeeze Galahad. "Let's keep questing."

[summerdude]

"Okay," Magnus says. He's gotta be able to pick up a sword and have it be fine. "Pick a door."

[onthewillowsthere]

His next door is damp under his fingers, and it swings open to a small pond full of flowering purple pickerelweed and arrowhead, the banks crowded with eutrochium and sundrops, elderberry and milkweed, whorled mountain mint; on a few flat stones there are green frogs sunning themselves, and a remarkable array of dragon and damselflies -- pond darters and meadowhawks, sewing needles, jewelwings.

Galahad could just stay here and draw them. He wants to bring every single thing back to Claudius, to look at together under the microscope. He wants to understand all the tiny parts of each animal here

But not yet. He has work first, the scabbard. He begins to close the door.

[summerdude]

"Is there anything you want in there?" Magnus asks before the door can close, hushed at the sight. It feels like his dad through that door, almost as much as the camping spot in the Blue Hills where he and his mom used to go camping. He sways toward it.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad glances at Magnus. "We can go in."

[summerdude]

"We don't have to," Magnus says, even as he pokes his head inside. Dad? he thinks. Are you out there?

[onthewillowsthere]

"I want to," he admits.

[summerdude]

"Cool," says Magnus, stepping through. Are you there, Dad? It's me, Magnus.

[onthewillowsthere]

Bush crickets, frogs, and cicadas make a cacophony of sounds; the air is humid and summery. With every step they take into the grass, all kinds of things jump away from their feet in ripples of movement that make it seem as though the ground is twitching. An ebony jewelwing lands on Magnus' arm.

[summerdude]

Dad? Magnus prays again, and a warm breeze stirs through his hair. He whirls, staring. Dad? Is that you? I'm okay, Dad, but I'm not coming home.

There's no answer. Just another breeze, and a single butterfly landing delicately on a long grass stem.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad reaches out a careful hand, and the jewelwing floats into the air and then alights on his finger next. All around them that's happening, winged insects rising and settling. He watches Magnus.

[summerdude]

Magnus lets himself fall backward, insects swarming around him as he hits the grass, and then rolls over, burying his nose between grass and wildflowers, right next to the sun-warmed dirt, which is borderline muddy this close to the water. Dad?

It feels even more potent here than it had in his little clearing before the clearing became his camp, in those first few weeks when he was trying, every day and in every way that he could, to phone home. Here it feels like if he just finds the right combination of words, Frey himself will wander over the hill beyond the pond in his flannel shirt and faded jeans and awkward, crooked smile to give Magnus a hug and ask where he's been.

When Magnus rolls back over, face pointed toward the sun, there's a flat rock in his hand. He rises up, half-sitting, and skips it over the pond. It skims the surface five times before sinking; he holds his breath the entire time. Frey doesn't rise where the stone sinks, but then again, he never did in the Blue Hills, either. Then Magnus laughs at himself and looks up at Galahad, sun gilding his nose and messy hair. "I didn't realize how much I missed summer," he says.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Did your dad say anything?" Galahad has been sitting perfectly still the whole time, and he is now covered in dragonflies: forktails, amberwings, skimmers, dancers, dashers, pennants, whitetails, like a glimmering net of jewels draped over his hair and shoulders.

[summerdude]

Of course Galahad knows Magnus has been praying. He grins, squirming until he can rest his head on Galahad's leg. Some of the dragonflies take flight at the rustling, but most of them settle back down soon enough. "Nah," he says; for once, he's genuinely unconcerned. "Maybe he heard me, though. You look good like this. All your... accessories."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Am I beautiful?"