summerdude | You Say Overkill, I Say Due Diligence [open post]

Entry tags:

You Say Overkill, I Say Due Diligence [open post]

Magnus copies the sign onto seven different pieces of paper. It reads:

WANT TO LEARN NEW SKILLS? ME FREAKING TOO. I (Magnus Chase) Will Trade Lessons In Any Of The Following For Something You Know:
ASL (Alf/American Sign Language)

Camping (pitching tents, campfire safety, celestial navigation)

What To Do If You Find Yourself Lost In The World Tree Yggdrasil

Pickpocketing (But only if you promise to use it for good (stealing ONLY from dickhead rich people) and ONLY if you have to!)

Swordfighting for Beginners (I am intermediate but Jack is advanced and he can help!)

What It REALLY Feels Like To Die (NOT ADVICE!!!)

(Trans)Gender Identity and Fluidity (from the perspective of a cis guy) (Alex-approved content only)

What To Do If The God You're Talking To Is Super ~~Obnoxious~~ Particular

Why Falafel is the Best Food in the World

All skills welcome! But if you know any of the following I am especially interested: Cooking, Geometry, How To Declare Your Love To Your Partner, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Balancing a Budget, Writing Poetry, Social Studies, Codebreaking.

(Sorry but I will not learn pottery from anyone but ♥Alex Fierro♥. I hope you understand.)

PS if there's enough interest we can maybe do full classes where everybody gets to take turns teaching and learning?

He adds a note about the areas where he can most frequently be found and then posts one sign in each of the two kitchens he's encountered, one by the welcome table, one on the door to the greenhouses, one in the library, one on his bedroom door, and one by what he believes to be the most-populated lounge. Then, with a great deal of eager anticipation, he goes about his day.

[A note from Magnus's typist: Open indefinitely!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"It's a long time to be sixteen," Claudius notes. He remembers himself at sixteen, a lanky, half-formed thing of nerves and desire. "But I suppose it's time you wouldn't have otherwise. Are the years difficult to count, in the afterlife you come from, or have you simply ceased to count them?"

"They just tend to blur together after a certain point," Magnus says with a chuckle. "I have fewer milestones to pin them on. I know it hasn't been that long, because I have mortal friends and they haven't gotten that much older than me." He wrinkles his nose. This is one of his least favorite parts about being dead.

"You've many friends." Claudius shakes his head, trying to shake off gloomy thoughts of time and eternity. "It speaks well of you ... and of your skills as a future diplomat. You also did an excellent job sounding out my intentions with Galahad. I was impressed."

"What?" Magnus shakes his head. "Nah, dude, I was just being a friend."

"I suppose so," Claudius says, with a small, wavy hand gesture. "I suppose a great deal of diplomacy depends on what you want to use it for. For me, it's always involved sorting allies from enemies. Learning how to say the right words to the right people, who can fall into either category. Finding common ground and compromise, when possible, and making sure a disagreement doesn't erupt into further violence, when necessary. But in political affairs, friendships are hard to find. I rather respect someone like you who identifies and defends their friends easily. It's an asset." It's a very roundabout way of saying he's glad Galahad has a friend like Magnus.

Magnus squints at Claudius for a long moment. What Claudius is describing sounds a lot like life at Valhalla: like learning to manipulate evil dwarfs, and self-interested Jotunn, and distractable gods. Like when he managed to get Jack from Ran's net... at least, up until she put that price on his head.

But he is a smart guy, underneath it all, and he can sort of get what Claudius is hinting at. At least, he can tell that Claudius really likes Galahad; that they have Galahad's interests in common, if from slightly different angles. He holds up his right hand, ring and middle fingers snug against his palm; thumb, pointer, and pinky splayed. "This means I love you," he says. "It's one way to say it, and the one that most people who don't know ASL are familiar with. The other one is --" He points to himself, then forms his hands into loose fists, wrists crossed over his heart, and then points to Claudius.

As a choice of first sign, it shows such a perfect understanding of Claudius's angle and intentions that Claudius can't help but smile at it. He feels a kindling hope for this project -- he knows how to wield spoken words too well and to one purpose, like an archer who has to forget all his old distancing habits in order to fight with a broadsword. If he can put down words as weapons altogether, and learn another way of speaking, he may be able to say something new. He and Galahad might find new ways to speak to and understand each other. "We'll have to go through them one at a time, I think," he says. He has, at least, precise control over his fingers, stretching them out before attempting to recreate the first sign Magnus showed him.

Magnus nods seriously, sitting up a little straighter. "That one is based off of the alphabet," he says. "The pinky extended -- I. The thumb and index finger? L. The thumb and pinky is Y. Sometimes, when people are coy," like the time in the Chase Space when they were pulling together a tiny birthday celebration for one of the kids, and Magnus ducked into the kitchen for the cake Hearth and Blitzen were putting the finishing touches on, and found them flirting instead, "They'll introduce the little finger first." He shows this, like a slow unfurling of his hand.

Predictably, Claudius quite likes the coy version. He likes the way it feels in his fingers, a small, deliberate hint before it unfolds into the full gesture. He copies it both ways, keeping an eye on Magnus as he does so -- both to judge whether he's copying it correctly, and because it feels like part of the communication.

"Yeah, man, exactly," Magnus says. "That's the one that's used more often, as far as I know. The other one is just another way to say it but using the signs for the actual words." He crosses his fists over his heart again. "This means love."

The gesture feels intimate, like clutching something precious and private to one's chest -- enough like love that Claudius thinks he'll remember it. After copying it, he goes through the other signs again, to fix them in his mind and his hands. It feels good to make them. Claudius so often needs something to do with hands, so often twiddles his fingers pointlessly, hiding them behind his back so no one will guess at his agitation. When Galahad was Damien, and they held hands in the garden, it was perhaps the first time he'd willingly shared that side of himself. He thinks of sharing these signs of love with Galahad, and it shows, in how his eyes and smile soften. "You're an excellent teacher," he says, after a moment's practice. "I'd like to learn the signs for other emotions. And how to inquire how someone might be feeling."

"Thanks, dude," Magnus says. He likes teaching, as it turns out. Especially because he's pretty sure his best buddy Galahad is going to benefit from this particular lesson. "Okay, so this is how you ask how someone is feeling," he says, and goes slowly through the signs for it.

"And then, um," he says. "Wait, I'll wait for you to practice first before we get to specific emotions."

Claudius accepts most of the titles people give him for the sake of politeness, but he thinks there's a comfortable and familiar register to the way Magnus says 'dude.' He decides not to return it until he’s quite convinced of its meaning, but the possibility makes him fond.

“See?” he says, in regards to Magnus’s teaching style. “Thou art patient and adaptive.” And Claudius does take the opportunity of Magnus’s patience to work through those signs, one by one, until he can do them quickly and see how they flow and feel together.

Magnus squints at Claudius, midway through compiling a mental list of emotions to focus on. "Are you a flatterer in general?" he asks, curiously. "Or am I just special?"

Claudius laughs at the question, appreciating it. “Most of diplomacy is flattery. But I do try to be specific and sincere in what I flatter — insincere flattery is easily caught, and if you go too far with it, you may cause more offense.” For example, you might offend an emperor, and the emperor might then activate the blood parasites he fed to you. It happens from time to time. “Even sincere flattery can be difficult to accept for certain people. That’s why it helps to be specific. Someone might, for example, reject being called good if they have prior associations with the word, but if I say thou hast been patient in allowing me to practice signs, and adapted thy lessons to what I wish to learn, and who I wish to learn them for, with admirable grace … thou couldst demur, but thou couldst not deny thou hast done those two things.” He smirks. “So yes, I’m a constant flatterer, but thou art special. I remain grateful Galahad has a friend in thee.”

Anyone on Galahad's side is on Magnus's side, he figures, so he might as well explain his perspective to Claudius in full^*. "I'm okay with compliments," he says, which is occasionally true. "And I know I'm good at a bunch of stuff." Including friendship, the most important skill in the world; he is warming to Claudius's flattery on that note. "Loki started out with flattery, too, but he quickly turned to insults when it became clear I wasn't going to help him end the world. And then I had to flyte him about it in the end. So I'm glad yours isn't insincere, that's all."

*By some value of 'in full.'

"That makes you one of two people I know who've refused to bring about the end of the world," Claudius says, with a laugh of surprise and gratitude. It remains one of the most remarkable things Crowley ever told him. Perhaps it's only fitting -- here's two people able to confirm the existence of the afterlife and an overarching eschatolology, and Claudius is still grasping how they both can be true. But at least the end of all things is something malleable. "From the stories alone, Laertes would be quite amused if I were compared to Loki ... but I am sorry for your own experience with the god of lies. I admit I haven't always been the most honest of men. Laertes is one of the friends who keeps me honest -- I find my friendships here have made me more inclined to it than I ever was in Denmark." Because he has to ask, "How did the flyting work out?"

"Oh, I wasn't calling you a liar!" Magnus hastens to clarify. "Or anything like Loki, beyond the very initial flattery." He guesses that Claudius and Loki are also two good-looking guys, but that's hardly the grounds for comparison. A lot of people are good-looking guys. "And trust me, I get having friendships that incline you toward particular ways of being."

He pauses to fix his hair -- it's falling out of the scrunchie, so he pulls the scrunchie out, runs his fingers through it to comb it out, and tries for a teeny ponytail, or something. "The flyting went... fine," he says, modestly. "I won and we trapped Loki in a walnut shell and gave him back to the gods. I'm pretty sure they let Sigyn go back to wherever they put him this time, like I asked. She's good people." And an unexpected ally, despite her weird devotion to Loki.

Then he smiles. "I've decided what emotion words are best to start with," he says.

That sounds about right. Claudius returns the smile. "I'm ready to hear -- and see -- them."

Magnus puts one hand in front of his chest and moves it like he's brushing upward on his breastbone. "This means happy," he says. It's technically only one way of saying it, but he thinks that probably the more informal expression of the word would be most appropriate. Then, he moves his hands next to his face, palms down, and draws them up like he's tossing something behind his ears. "This is overwhelmed." It's only a slight adjustment to show Claudius how to differentiate between overwhelmed in a good way, and overwhelmed in a bad way, and so he shows those variations next, and waits to make sure Claudius is keeping up.

"You were right to start with those," Claudius says. There's a deep unhappiness in Galahad, but it will help to know when Galahad is happy, too. It's something Claudius might notice more, if he and Galahad exchange signs for it, when Galahad is too embarrassed to speak his happiness out loud. But Claudius also enjoys the way this sign feels -- there are also times, he supposes, where he might sign happy to Galahad. Many more than Claudius says, and Claudius considers himself effusive. And it will help to have signs for when Galahad is overwhelmed. It would've helped every time Galahad became too overwhelmed for words, and Claudius asked more and more questions to try and pry some message from him.

Magnus nods -- he knows he was, but since it's not like Claudius is testing him on his knowledge of Galahad or anything, there's no point in mentioning that. "Good," he says, watching Claudius replicate the signs. "Your fingers should be a little flatter there -- yeah."

Claudius nods with appreciation for the correction -- one benefit from learning face-to-face with someone, rather from observing at a distance, or reading from books. When traveling Europe, Claudius learned many languages by affecting a clumsy ignorance, even when he'd prepared his vocabulary ahead of time. He immersed himself in courts, letting courtiers speak past him, getting a sense for how speech flowed through the room, noting the words of those who held the most sway and charm. He also learned by flirting, of course. Most of his Spanish is flirtation.

But he's always had a mind for languages. Beyond exchanges or excuses, there's a pleasure in learning for a purpose -- to communicate, to connect. Grateful for Magnus's instruction, Claudius flexes his fingers in preparation for the next lesson.

Some time after the events of the truth spell, zombie attack, and subsequent fallout, Magnus finds Claudius working outside in the gardens. Magnus doesn't look like a guy who's been living in the forest for over a week -- his hair is mostly clean, and he's managed to keep it free from sap -- but he is still barefoot and in soft clothes.

"Hey, dude," he calls, and when he knows he has Claudius's attention, he signs, what's up?

Claudius looks up from reburying bulbs the squirrels had gotten into, as though they'd sensed he needed another chore to keep his hands occupied. He looks up to see Magnus with a bright smile, giving the small salute of hello before taking off his gloves to make his signs clearer. Too much, he signs, something he learned quickly from Galahad, though he also fits a droll eyeroll in between the sharp framing of his hands. Too much. Overwhelming. But ... He crosses his fingers and holds them out, holding that thought.

It's challenging. The things that are occupying his mind right now outstrip his vocabulary -- not just in signs. He's accepted that, with all the facts in evidence, it's simpler and more straightforward to accept his life was written and predetermined by an English playwright. It changes less than he thought, because he'd worked through so many ad hoc explanations beforehand. A play that revealed his worst sin, as relayed by a ghost, was shattering enough to accept. The realization that events continued to unfold in that play, and foretold a future he hadn't yet lived, was tricky, but Shen Qingqiu had the previous experience to walk him through it. Untangling how, exactly, William Shakespeare was able to capture the of his life already lived and his life to come from hearsay and legends, and how many diverging histories there were, and what that meant for any plan of God's ... that could've been a twenty-four hour mind project¹. At the end of the day, he's still quite glad not to be in the play. And if characters escaping a play can ruin it, there's an appeal to plotting to ruin it as much as possible, and thus ruin the jurisfiction agency's day.

Anyway, Magnus knows about the play. He also knows about The Lion King being based on Hamlet, a fact Claudius was able to learn and pass on in the space of a single day. Happy to see you, Claudius decides on, chaining the signs for happy and see and you together. How are you?

¹ Thank you to anyone out there who catches that reference.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject