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

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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!]

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"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.

Magnus drops gracelessly down on the ground in front of Claudius, keeping carefully away from the bulbs. Same, basically, he signs, and gives Claudius an imploring look. He doesn't want to add to whatever's overwhelming Claudius, but -- "Dude, I need your help."

"Ask, and 'tis thine." That feels a little formal, despite the informal register -- he really does hear it, when it's the first thing said out loud. Sitting back on his heels, he asks, "What's the trouble?"

"You know stuff about plants," Magnus says, nodding at the bulbs. Galahad had suggested he could probably ask Claudius to teach him about growing things without just using magic. "And you're friends with Hanguang-jun, right? I've seen you guys hanging out."

Claudius casts a ruefull look on a half-eaten bulb. "I know a few things," he says. "I know tulip bulbs are toxic to humans and cats but squirrels, it seems, can't help nibbling on them for their savor. And," he says more proudly, "I do have the fortune of calling Hanguang-jun a friend." He has to practice saying it the way Magnus does, not in the breathless tones he's heard Wei Wuxian use. Hanguang-jun. Still a little flirty, but in context, he hopes it sounds fond.

Leaning forward earnestly, Magnus says, "Has he told you about where he comes from? Cloud Recesses? I keep thinking -- I don't know what it's like there, just that they use jade tokens instead of keys--" Absently, his hand comes up to grip the token Lan Wangji gave him. "But I recognize most of the plants here, and maybe that means he doesn't?" Magnus's knowledge of the natural world is woefully small for the son of a natural world god. "And I want him to be comfortable, you know? In case he doesn't. I had Galahad bring me a book on the, like, native vegetation of China, because that's the closest I can come to figuring out if there's a version of his world in my world, but then I was like, maybe this is all wrong, maybe Claudius will know." He smiles at Claudius. "And then Galahad mentioned he's been helping you with the gardens, and I was like, perfect, maybe me and Claudius can figure out a way to grow Hanguang-jun something that feels like home." It has recently become very, very important to Magnus that Lan Wangji doesn't get homesick.

Then he casts a glance at the bulb. "And I can tell the squirrels to cut it out, if you want," he offers: a trade, in case Claudius prefers one to an out-and-out favor for Magnus. "I'm pretty sure it's just Hubert trying to prove that he's grown up and self-sufficient now."

Edited 2023-12-12 17:44 (UTC)

With the series of realizations he's had to make, Claudius doesn't let the offer slow him. It does raise another concern. "Can the squirrels understand you as well as me?" he asks. "If so, please pass on my apologies to Hubert. I do want to have tulips, but I shouldn't have made ungentlemanly remarks." They were, to be fair, the most delicate yet cutting remarks a man has ever made in the direction of a squirrel. There was a lot about decorum and proportion, which might sting for a young squirrel out on his own.

That said, he smiles. "Hanguang-jun speaks of you the way he speaks of his brightest disciple -- quite impressive, given the shorter span of time we've spent here. I see why. It's already a remarkably thoughtful idea, and here you are, studying and seeking counsel for it." Claudius believes Lan Wangji would be touched, which is the only thing that saves it from being the most overdone flattery and teasing¹. "I think we can help each other." He signs sorry instead of saying it, not wanting to get caught up. "That sounded rather scheming and calculating, but it just so happens Lan Wangji has told me about the Cloud Recesses, and the places he would be proudest to show a visitor. He mentioned magnolia, which flowers twice a season, and groves of bamboo. I'm growing gentian flowers for him, but I don't want to present them alone in a seed tray. I'd like to arrange something rather more thoughtful, and also work more on methods to preserve plants throughout the winter. I've books that tell me I should invest in a full spectrum LED lights. Do I look like a man who knows where to find a full spectrum LED light? We should combine our research."

¹ It's a bit much, that's all.

"I don't think most animals pay attention to humans who can't understand them, but I could ask? And I don't know anything about preserving plants," Magnus says, a little ruefully. "And I don't know if it'll be good for them to just, like, zap them with summer every day... I think they probably need to hibernate. Bamboo, gentians, and magnolia, huh? I wonder if they have, like, seeds here for those things."

There's a relief, Claudius thinks. He doesn't have to ask Magnus to apologize to the birds next, for always openly and shamelessly speculating about their personal lives. He likes to imagine he and the birds have built up a rapport at this point, but one can never be sure.

"Fortunately, autumn is the best time of year for collecting most seeds. I couldn't tell you when to find bamboo seeds -- that may be a subject for mutual research," he says, looking forward to the idea, and wanting to assure Magnus all the answers needn't come at once. "Magnolia flowers in spring and late summer, yielding some of the strangest-looking fruits. You won't be able to mistake them the next time you see them. But for a tree, it might be preferable to take a cutting ... I don't know the extent of your ability to, ah, zap plants with summer. But it's preferable to take cuttings in the growing season. Would you be able to make, say, a branch of a tree believe it's summer long enough for me to show you?" If he were in mixed company, he might rein in his excitement to perform untried experiments in plant propagation. But Magnus has listened to Claudius ramble -- or, in his words, infodump -- on all manner of subjects¹.

¹ Claudius has also infodumped extensively to Galahad about plant science and how cool it is to make plants from other parts of plants and did you know Crowley keeps plants from others climates in a glass house to recreate tropical conditions, which can also be used to extend the growing season -- right, of course you do, you've been there.

"Oh, that's easy," Magnus says. He shrugs, but eagerness is suffusing him. "Are you talking about grafting? One of the books I looked at mentioned grafting."

"Crucial to grafting," Claudius says, with all delight. It's a delight few see unless he's scored some point in a social game he's playing, embarrassed someone or carried off some subtle manipulation. Except, of course, it's about plants. (Plants don't have social lives, except he has read other books that suggest they communicate, and infodumped to Galahad about those, too.) "Grafting takes a cutting from one plant and joins it to another. If one plant has stronger roots, say, then grafting a cutting to it gives the cutting a better chance to survive. We can try that, too. In a way, it's fitting. We've all been grafted a bit here, and Lan Wangji ... he's a traditional man, but I believe he appreciates the benefits of adaptation." But don't get Claudius started on Darwin. That wasn't a purposeful discovery, but it was a fascinating one, and one Claudius spent some time puzzling over, when he was so certain the properties of different species of plants were influenced by celestial bodies, put there by God.

The celestial bodies probably are still relevant. Darwin just hadn't figured that part out.

Magnus, as it turns out, really likes when Claudius gets excited about things. He feels really kindred in those moments. He smiles at the guy. "You think we're getting stronger here?" he asks, hoping that it's true. And then: "How else are cuttings used? If it's not just for grafting."

"Cuttings can grow their own roots, if the conditions are right for them. Depending on the plant, it can be long and slow -- it won't receive all the benefits of being grafted to another, established tree. But once the roots come in, it can be planted in soil, and grow into a tree all its own. As for us," he says, eyes bright and smiling, "in many ways, many of us have already gotten stronger. Grafted plants can make use of each other's resistances, bear the stress of changing seasons, become something new. They're a bit unnatural -- some even say sinful. But to a tree that wouldn't flourish otherwise, what's a little sin against nature?" He laughs. "I may be overextending my metaphor. But needless to say: here I've seen many people learn from each other and grow together, in circumstances far from natural."

"I don't think I really believe in sin like that," Magnus says, consideringly. "But that's super cool about cuttings. I had no idea they could grow roots. I mean, I know about putting an avocado pit in water, but."

"Now you must educate me," Claudius says, quite happily. "What is an avocado? I suppose it must be a stone fruit, if it has a pit."

"Oh, yeah, I guess?" Magnus doesn't actually know the provenance of the avocado, besides the fact that it grows on trees. "They're green, the flesh is. They're super tropical? And their texture is kind of firm banana-y? They're the main ingredient in guacamole, which is one of the best non-falafel foods out there."

Claudius fingerspells falafel, f-a-l-a-f-e-l, then smiles with the joy of a connection made. "That's right, you had made the offer to teach why falafel is the finest of foods. You must've been the inspiration for that meal. Ordinarily, I only sit down to eat when there's company and conversation, and there's no custom of that here -- I can go a long while without eating, and Galahad takes exception to it." He says this with fondness for Galahad, and no concern whatsoever for himself. "Once, after gardening together, we went back to the kitchen where I only intended to make instant coffee. When I told him so, he took a plate of falafel from the cold box and said," Claudius fingerspells falafel again, then signs eat. "I did rather enjoy it. And the yogurt sauce -- does that have a name?"

"Galahad should take exception. Everyone's gotta eat, dude," Magnus says -- a little sternly; he has a vested interest in Galahad's happiness. "Was it, like, thick and spreadable, or did it have stuff in it?"

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