[now there's the part she remembers. if there was one thing that always managed to get a bark or a snort out of her, it was how easy he was to fluster. it was... cute. and maybe morga had a minor case of cute aggression that sits in the dark closet of emotions, covered in an old blanket, dust and cobwebs. hidden and forgotten, but lurking. waiting.]
And take the thrill out of it? You wound me.
[okay, now she's actually joking. patting his feathers twice, she drops her head down to rest against his chest and for a moment she's content to just... stand there. savor the moment for a time.]
I can hardly walk right, let alone dance... you'd be the one getting stepped on.
( and those are feet you don't want to be getting stepped on with, that's for sure. even without the two-inch heeled boots. those are some big bird feet. his lower half is really more bird than man by this point, especially the legs, their shape and their coloration, the skin and feathers. and while his hands still technically qualify as particularly hooked, scaly, clawed fingers, his feet have the four-toed prong of a raven proper, nasty real talons and all. alright, so maybe with proper footwear he couldn't do that much damage, but he's still a big, heavy dude. and whoever heard of a dancing bird?
but... still. maybe he can't tear up the dancefloor like he used to (not yet, anyway)... that doesn't mean he can't do anything at all, technically. after a moment's thought, he lays his hand on the small of her back. the other, he lays on her shoulder. and then? he starts to sway. and hum, once he clears his throat and finds something resembling his voice, such as it is anymore. hoarse, low and rough, but he can still carry a tune long enough to find a rhythm to sway in place to. )
[alright, he wins. for now. she turns her head and readjusts how she leans into him, and for a good long while she's actually content. the stress and tension brought on by the last few months continues to weigh her down, but if she shuts her mind off for a little bit... just for this moment... it doesn't feel as heavy. and it's fine, isn't it? julian proved himself to be trustworthy ages ago. she can let her guard down and try to relax.
listening to his heart beating in his chest seems to help too, along with the rumble of his humming. it's only when he's halfway through that she recognizes the tune for what it is — an old folksong from the south. one she'd hummed to herself one night when she'd thought he was asleep with his head in her lap, and again when she believed herself to be alone and working on... something. was she cooking? or fixing something? it doesn't matter in the end. what sticks out is he remembered it, and had always been listening in some way or another.
damn if that doesn't get her ears going pink. thank goodness for long hair.]
...You really are a man of many talents, aren't you? Flattery, tales, song...
[magic. maybe that's what she was picking up on? it'd make sense.]
( "remembered" might be giving him more credit than he thinks he's due. it just comes to him from some long-abandoned place deep in the well of his mind. guess that maybe counts as a memory, sure. where he learned it, how, when, that's all too vague to recall. but the tune comes naturally like he's known it his whole life. other than a short, soft huff of a laugh through his nose, for a little while he just goes on humming and swaying them from side to side. like the slow dances at those far-off weddings, he recalls dimly. way out in the west where the women wore all white and walked down a long aisle to meet their groom, spoke their vows before their god and then had a big helluvaparty. hardly a dance so much as a sway, hand in hand, cheek to cheek. this isn't quite that, but it reminds him of it a little.
if he can remember those places, can he remember what hjalle is like this time of year? or where exactly the hot springs he grew up around are? maybe. he strokes his hand down her back, a little less fearful of being overly careful with his touch. this can't last. he shouldn't be here. he doesn't deserve to be here, besides. but he hasn't felt this kind of peace in... so long. so, so long. )
I'm only as good as the company I keep. Which... hasn't been any. Not for a long time. If you think I've got any talent left, it's only because you're around to bring it out in me.
[try as she might, she's unable to fight back against the way her body arches to meet his touch. it's... strangely pleasant, even through her layers. only when she realizes what she did does she clear her throat and keep her gaze low. focusing on the inside of his elbow seems as good of a spot as any to look. gods, she needs to get a grip. so she found someone who is (was?) more than willing to dole out the attention she never admits to wanting. there's no need to cling to it like it's the only thing left... is there?]
Give yourself some credit, you old fool.
[is he old? is he older than she is? who knows. time? that's bullshit. this whole thing is bullshit. that's a scam. fuck the magical realms, here's 95 reasons why.]
You mentioned using magic. I don't think I brought that out in you.
[not for a lack of trying though, even if the methods were less than conventional. she could teach someone to fight, cook, and other survival necessities but magic? god, she didn't even know where to start. pro tip: do not pass off a magical spear to someone and tell them to do what she did. it doesn't end well.]
( is he old? god, who knows anymore. he feels old sometimes. and sometimes he feels like time went backwards and he's back to being a clueless whelp, on his way to prakra to study medicine because he wanted to help the sick and dying, to save lives like he couldn't—mm. whatever, never mind. his smile goes crooked as it often does now, but he lifts his chin and peels his eyes open after a moment. magic? did he mention that?
oh. oh yeah. )
Ah... yeah, that's right. That's another thing I learned the night of the Masquerade. Before everything went pear-shaped, that is. I'm a magician, if you can believe it.
( a pause for grand effect—and then his shoulders jump. the "laugh" he lets out sounds more like it could've come from malak rather than his own mouth, a pitched caw by any other name. )
I'll be honest: I didn't practice very much. But in those... days, or weeks, or whatever it was when I still had fight left in me, I worked out a few tricks. Who would've thought you can do science and witchcraft all with the same mind, hmm? Not that it did me much good in the end. Without a proper teacher, I was never going to be powerful enough to take on the Devil. Don't know why I bothered, really. Desperation, maybe. Haven't done it since I became... this, so I've got no idea if I still can or not.
[stranger things have happened in this world. especially during the time the world had been flipped upside down and twisted into twelve different knots thanks to the devil. fortunately it isn't the strangest thing she's heard, nor is it the strangest thing she's actually believed. a thoughtful look crosses her face for a moment, and she makes a soft sound in the back of her throat.]
You'll never know by wondering.
[it almost hurts to pry herself away, but she does. the absence of his hand over her back leaves her feeling an odd chill, but it's a thought she pushes down in favor of approaching the tree she'd lodged her spear into to yank it out. a quick look over to make sure it's free of sap, and morga tilts her chin up at julian with one brow arched. he's... certainly different to look at from a distance, but he really isn't terrible. using her spear, she points to him, and back towards another patch of trees where she assumes he came from.]
Take care of what you were doing before I jumped you and head back to where you're staying. I'll find you once I fetch my other foolish bird, and once we're settled in I'll show you the only teacher you'll ever need. And...
[she reaches up to unhook the red strip of cloth from her torso, balls it up and tosses it to him. the black and white beetle of the scourge is still attached, and that's when her mouth curls into a grin. if there was one thing she rarely let out of her sight, it's that. she means business.]
In case you have doubts about whether or not I'll actually follow.
( to say he's disappointed when they part is an understatement. for a few seconds he even looks stricken, watching her go like he's being abandoned. it's a pathetically small expression for something so big and frightening-looking to wear, but that's just julian all over, really, isn't it? the landscape's changed, but he was always much softer and more sensitive than his looks and his demeanor would lead people to believe at a glance. he doesn't seem all that much cheered up by the explanation, but he still reaches out and catches her emblem in both hands, holding it sort of anxiously to his chest. )
I... okay.
( she won't be back, will she. it was all a dream. an illusion. he squeezes the cloth in his hand, fortunately not able to get his claws in it. malak lets out a loud squawk, shakes himself out, and almost seems to sigh as he takes flight from his branch to go with morga. there, you see, he'll always come back, so he'll make sure she does, too.
not that julian knows what he's trying to say exactly. he just swallows and tries to look confident. great, the bird, too? )
Alright, my lair's not far. I'll... see you then.
( but he's not moving a muscle until she's out of sight. just in case it's the last time. you know. again. )
[fortunately it doesn't take her nearly as long to track him down the second time. the only thing is it still takes the better part of an hour (give or take) to find jæger first, and another two to gather everything she intended to bring back from her last campsite. bag, bedroll, the works. she honestly hadn't expected on finding another person let alone julian out here, so she'd packed lighter than usual. and since she doesn't know how well he's been taking care of himself... morga wasn't about to make any assumptions. better to be safe than sorry in the wilderness, no matter how close it was to vesuvia. if anything, it was more of a reason to be prepared and cautious.
by the time she finds the trail properly - mostly thanks to malak - the sun sits low, painting the sky in shades of purple, yellow, and orange. one shoulder carries her supplies and jæger, while the other sits malak and her spear sits with several decently-sized fish lashed to the end. now, the unfortunate thing about all of this? she's not quiet at all.
or, well. malak and jæger aren't. they started to "bicker" some fifteen minutes ago, no doubt alerting everything in the vicinity. she doesn't see julian yet, so... she takes the time to unload everything. the bag is dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, spear and fish are propped against a fallen log, and that's when all hell breaks loose.]
Would you two stop squabbling for five minutes?! Jæger — stop antagonizing him! Malak! Stop egging him on!
[is... is he just cawing, or is that laughter? she doesn't know. jæger, bless his heart, takes it as a challenge and screams, prompting morga to shoo him from her shoulder and onto her forearm. that's when the real scolding starts. it's nothing but that guttural old language of hers, punctuated by a wag of her finger and the protesting peeps that only an eagle can make. malak? he's not helping by any means, and now she's certain that he's laughing.
gods help her.]
Don't take that tone of voice with me — Devorak! Julian!
[julian. julian, please. please, she needs help. these children are out of control and she's lost control of her life.]
( after she's gone, julian has to remember what on earth he was doing in the first place. oh, water, right. fresh water. of course the makeshift "cup" he'd brought along to carry it in got smashed in the scuffle and he'd utterly forgotten about it, so now he's got no way to bring it back to his "lair." it's more tedious to walk all the way there and back when "walking" is quite difficult for him in the traditional sense these days, so he just goes to wash up and have a drink cupped in his hands and worry about bringing more back later. then it's back to the little den he's made of foliage and branches, probably some abandoned animal nest at some point. it's not exactly the coziest little thicket, but he wasn't exactly looking for comfort and peak living. just somewhere to hide, relatively secluded so that he'd be harder to spot. or... easier to mistake for a wild animal and left alone.
he hears the approach well before it's near, though. his hearing is a lot better than it ever was, and in the depressing, maddening silence of not knowing whether anything he just experienced was real outside of the cloth he's still desperately clinging to, he's especially sensitive to it. of course all that ruckus blending together from a distance doesn't sound like anything he can make sense of—just birds shrieking and calling out, and... morga. shouting indistinctly. he's already taking on the laborious task of getting back up and starting out to investigate, but at the sound of his name—
he takes off like a bat out of hell. the crashing and stumbling through the brush is deafening, clumsy and frantic. one foot in front of the other is tough to manage, and he moves faster when he's hopping along like a bird would than actually trying to run. such is his urgency to reach them, assuming the worst as always, that he forgets he doesn't know how to fly. his wings stretch and beat hard once, twice, propelling him right up off the ground and hurtling him forward, stirring up all manner of debris in his wake. then he really is taking off like a bat (or bird) out of hell. fine, so it's not flying, per se. but he's definitely hovering, at the very least, and looks quite a fright doing it, teeth bared in a grimace, arms raised. his wingspan is at least double his width and nearly as tall, and each flap sends a flurry of un-attended to feathers everywhere along with the twigs and leaves and dirt. )
Morga?!
( there's. there's no danger here. just malak being annoying, an activity he abandons when julian reaches the clearing several inches above the ground, circling him with interest, and a very scolded jaeger. the moment he realizes nothing is tearing her or anyone else apart, his wings give out and he drops like a useless sack of rocks into the grass. )
Mmrpgh— you're here, you came back! Why were you yelling like that?! I -I thought you were... what happened?
[grace may not be part of his name, but morga has never looked so relieved to see someone in decades. it's an impressive sight to see him burst into the clearing like that, and it's impossible to keep the surprise and awe from her face. jæger puffs up in alarm and shrieks, and morga's free hand goes to gently settle a finger over his beak. not in her face, big guy. with both shoulders now free of any feathery passengers, she hefts her arm up to send the eagle off. he finds a decently sized branch just out of reach, but still within range to keep posturing and puffing his feathers up as if he doesn't recognize julian, nor does he seem to understand why morga isn't on guard or brandishing a weapon. not right away. it's been awhile since he's seen the other man, so it's. new.
and with her burden completely gone, it gives her the freedom to stride over, lean down, and reach for both of julian's hands to haul him at least halfway into an upright position once he's fallen. oi - don't give her that look, malak. you're not out of the frying pan just yet, little man. morga just has more... pressing things to deal with right now. namely, julian. he doesn't seem hurt, just frazzled which is... good. very good, considering the way he went down. at worst his feathers are ruffled and sticking up in odd directions, but that's an easy fix.]
Oh, you know. Children arguing over nonsense. They were fine until they started going off over gods-knows-what. Jæger started looking at him in an odd way, Malak said something, and evidentially he had opinions about it.
[was it jealousy? it was probably jealousy on jæger's part, but that's a problem for future morga. waving a hand, morga exhales sharply through her nose and looks past julian's shoulder to the broken branches and path broken through the shrubbery. hm. she's never actually been in this position before. her face screws up for a moment, relaxes, and she tears her eyes away from the mess to look at the loose feathers on the ground.]
( grimacing as he stands, julian's wings flutter for balance. involuntarily, of course, because he's never exercised control of them before... he didn't even know they could work at all, really. not for anything useful. he glances to jaeger, but looks away again at the distrustful sort of eye he's giving him. god, even seeing familiar animals that aren't monsters born out of some hell-rift is such a change for him.
once he's upright, malak flutters down and lands on top of his head, preening himself (and julian, incidentally) and making all sorts of smug and unusual noises. call it self-satisfaction for getting away with his nonsense and now being essentially out of arm's reach, but maybe he's also just a little bit proud that his boy flew (kinda). )
I—yes. Sorry. I know you can handle yourself, I just... all I heard was noise and shouting, and then you called me, and I...
( like morga, julian cranes around to glance back the way he came. it looks like a bear crashed through the brush, except for the part where there isn't a footprint in sight. he's... kind of mortified. impressed, but mortified. he turns to face morga again instead, his eyes darting all over. she's fine. she's fine. )
It... wouldn't be the first time I thought I heard you calling, but it's the first time you've actually been here when I came running. Or... whatever I was doing.
[without missing a beat, she reaches up to steady his attention with a hand on his face. she holds it there for three, four seconds before she gently paps his cheek and lets it fall away, and then she flashes her own crooked grin. with the shock fading, all she feels is a sense of pride. see that, world? this, this right here? this is hers. pride, and... maybe a little bit of flattery. it's actually touching to know that he came rushing like that for her sake.
shut up. don't look at her. emotions and feelings are stupid.]
I'd say it looked like you were trying to fly. Emphasis on trying, but... You certainly burst from the trees like something on a mission. And I need you to understand I genuinely mean it when I say this; good job.
[was it her intention? oh, no no no. absolutely not. no, that thought never crossed her mind until now. he's given her something to think about for the future. set up and magic first, flying and other hidden strengths later.]
( it takes a second for the smile to appear. first comes reproach and hesitation, mostly having to do with the flying comment (but i've never done it before, i wouldn't call it a mission so much as a mad dash, i shouldn't have gone rushing in like that), then the blushing, then the stammering uselessly without actually producing any words. and then the smile.
and what a smile it is. fragile and weak like most of the rest of him now (monster strength and stature aside, that is), but what makes it worth looking at is the glimmer of something like hope in it. a spark of the tiniest glowing ember of confidence. the tentatively heartened sense of encouragement from someone who hasn't heard praise of any sort in a long, long, long time. you see, he just needs a little boost, that's all. the devil-may-care boldness is in there, he just needs to find it again. )
You're, uh. You're welcome. I meanm I think of you all the time, not just when you're... that is, er... I'd come save you from anything. Even. Squabbling birds.
( haw! haw! haw! yeah, malak is definitely gloating. about everything. whatever swagger julian doesn't have anymore, malak clearly kept it in safekeeping for him. )
A-Anyway, did you... have you got everything? I've, uh. Made us a trail to follow back. It was all according to plan.
[well, well, well. how the turntables... she's not sure if it's malak or julian's words that causes it, but morga snorts as she moves to pick everything back up. it seems like only yesterday their roles were reversed with her leading the trek through unknown woods. now julian is the one in charge and... she's strangely alright with that. she wordlessly calls jæger down from the branches by holding her arm up, and she nods towards the trail as the big lug scoots up to her shoulder. for something so big, it's amazing how small he can make himself look up there.]
Lead on. If we're lucky, someone will behave himself this time around.
[the sound jæger makes can only be described as a shocked peep, the feathers around his head flaring up for a fraction of a second. it doesn't last, though. they smooth back down with a shudder, and he immediately gives malak a look as he settles down into the fur of morga's cloak.
it's a good thing too, because it gives morga time to think about the rest of what he'd said. and... huh. hearing it like that? before, it'd be bait. actually it still is, but to hell with it. it's been months for her, and far too long for julian. if anythingit's something to talk and gently tease him about, just to see how much of the old julian is left.]
So, if you don't think of me being in grave danger, how do you think about me? Indulge an old woman's curiosity.
( in what is probably the most uncharacteristically unjulian moment yet, for awhile, he's utterly silent in spite of the prompt. it'd be the perfect opportunity for him to say all kinds of incorrigible or downright salacious crap normally, wouldn't it? and it isn't because he's focused on getting back in one piece or anything like that. catch a glimpse of his face and it's clear he's thinking about it, the storm of his thoughts on his sleeve with the rest of his feelings, as ever. the feathers and fluff don't hide anything any better, really. to be fair, it does take some concentration, leading the way back through the trashed underbrush to his little den. morga may not have noticed it as much before, but he's terribly ungainly when he walks. it's like his mind and his body are operating on two completely different levels. his human mind tells him to place one foot in front of the other, but his anatomy isn't really built to do it in any meaningful way. what he seems more inclined to physically do is hop.
which, considering how enormous he is, is. you know. a little silly. and he has no idea, because up until recently he really didn't move much at all. just sat there miserably at a table, drinking himself to death. or trying to, but it's like no matter what he did, he just couldn't die, and— )
Mmm. Come now, you're not old.
( ah. there he is. they're nearly halfway there by the time he pipes up, glancing back over his shoulder and then straight ahead again to watch where he's going. his voice is just a little bit faraway, the way it'd sometimes get when he was deep into a particularly personal story. huddled up beside the fire, telling her not about high seas adventure and harebrained schemes he pulled off once upon a moon, but about his life. about growing up in nevivon, about his precious little sister, about studying in prakra. never anything too expressly detailed, but fond memories, touching moments. that sort of thing. this is like that. )
I thought about you all the time. When I could remember... when I could think clearly at all... you came to mind often. When I think about you, I remember the last time I saw you. At the Masquerade, under the colored lights of that room you pulled me into. You were by far the least done-up person at that entire gig, and yet I...
( his voice drops a beat lower, and gets even more gravelly-sounding for it. )
I hadn't ever seen someone look so striking before. I kept that image in my mind for as long as I could. Since I knew I was never going to see it again.
[she opens her mouth to retort that she is in fact old, but... then his tone shifts. the tight grip on her spear eases, and even jæger seems to pick up on the change in his voice. it's how she can tell he's completely and utterly telling the truth, and for a moment morga stills. really, it's easy to disguise it as simply taking an extra moment to step over part of a fallen log, but since when did she ever need to slow her pace for something as mundane as that? she does it to listen to every word that falls from julian's lips, and her own press together in a tight, pained line simply because he isn't looking back to see it.
he's so godsdamned candid about it... almost enough to make her gut lurch, and morga knows she's standing at the precipice with only one way off; foward. whether or not she's bold enough to do it, though... only time has the answer to that. so, instead of thinking about the long fall before her, she busies herself with watching him move. underneath every little hop and duck under overhanging branches, she can still see what makes him him. it's damn near enough to turn the tight-lipped grimace into a hidden, genuine smile.]
You...
[her thoughts go back to that night. how she'd been moments from doing something foolish on more than one occasion. how julian seemed to blend in with the crowd as easily as a snake might hide on the forest floor, and draw attention to himself at the same time. he was in his element. her guide to that wild, colorful world that was oddly enchanting despite how uneasy it left her. the magic used in some of the rooms had been so thick she could nearly taste it (nevermind some of the smells from certain rooms of note), and that room in particular had been the least offensive to her senses.]
Now I'm glad I didn't take what they were trying to push on me. Did... it help?
[perhaps a foolish question, but it's... really the only thing she can think of to say besides something that'd embarrass herself. maybe even the both of them.]
( now, that he says cheerfully enough, in that whimsically ironic way he says a lot of things. haha! nope, it was awful! he's kidding a little bit, but also really not at the same time. in some ways he'd rather not explain, just laugh it off and move on. but if there's one thing he can't help regaling people with, it's his suffering. and why not? there's so much of it, and he's so good at talking about it. )
It was helpful at first, I guess. It gave me something to fight for. I knew nothing would be as simple as making a deal and sitting back to let it play out, and he did always love to torment me by planting the idea in the back of my mind that you weren't really as safe as we'd agreed on, so... when it felt hopeless, I'd think of you and keep going. But eventually that just wasn't enough. When I couldn't fight anymore, it was just... hell. Sometimes I think I... wanted to forget all of you. So I wouldn't have to remember what I lost. Or how much I let you down.
[not let her down. forget her. the list goes on and on, and no morga isn't sure if she has the drive to go through every little reason in one sitting. the list of actual people is much shorter, but each one is memorable in their own right. whether it be her son, former tribemates, enemies... more, even. where did julian sit? somewhere in the more category, though morga is reluctant to say it out loud. so, she won't. she doesn't. not right now. maybe later, maybe never.]
It's... almost mutual, you know. I tried to forget you once or twice, but I've got a few bad habits that made it impossible to do so. Habits that I'd be reluctant to let go of.
[like sinking her claws and teeth into her past - good and bad - and refusing to let go. wanting to protect what she had, rather than let those things fend for themselves like she ought to. it's one of her strengths, but also her biggest weakness.]
...I also hope you understand that you didn't let me down. Disappoint me? Yes, but... Everyone does that from time to time. But if I thought you were going to let me down, I would've sent you away the first time you traveled south of Vesuvia's borders. I saw potential in you, and I was glad to see that I wasn't wrong.
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And take the thrill out of it? You wound me.
[okay, now she's actually joking. patting his feathers twice, she drops her head down to rest against his chest and for a moment she's content to just... stand there. savor the moment for a time.]
...At least think about it.
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( and those are feet you don't want to be getting stepped on with, that's for sure. even without the two-inch heeled boots. those are some big bird feet. his lower half is really more bird than man by this point, especially the legs, their shape and their coloration, the skin and feathers. and while his hands still technically qualify as particularly hooked, scaly, clawed fingers, his feet have the four-toed prong of a raven proper, nasty real talons and all. alright, so maybe with proper footwear he couldn't do that much damage, but he's still a big, heavy dude. and whoever heard of a dancing bird?
but... still. maybe he can't tear up the dancefloor like he used to (not yet, anyway)... that doesn't mean he can't do anything at all, technically. after a moment's thought, he lays his hand on the small of her back. the other, he lays on her shoulder. and then? he starts to sway. and hum, once he clears his throat and finds something resembling his voice, such as it is anymore. hoarse, low and rough, but he can still carry a tune long enough to find a rhythm to sway in place to. )
But we can still sway, hmm?
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listening to his heart beating in his chest seems to help too, along with the rumble of his humming. it's only when he's halfway through that she recognizes the tune for what it is — an old folksong from the south. one she'd hummed to herself one night when she'd thought he was asleep with his head in her lap, and again when she believed herself to be alone and working on... something. was she cooking? or fixing something? it doesn't matter in the end. what sticks out is he remembered it, and had always been listening in some way or another.
damn if that doesn't get her ears going pink. thank goodness for long hair.]
...You really are a man of many talents, aren't you? Flattery, tales, song...
[magic. maybe that's what she was picking up on? it'd make sense.]
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if he can remember those places, can he remember what hjalle is like this time of year? or where exactly the hot springs he grew up around are? maybe. he strokes his hand down her back, a little less fearful of being overly careful with his touch. this can't last. he shouldn't be here. he doesn't deserve to be here, besides. but he hasn't felt this kind of peace in... so long. so, so long. )
I'm only as good as the company I keep. Which... hasn't been any. Not for a long time. If you think I've got any talent left, it's only because you're around to bring it out in me.
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Give yourself some credit, you old fool.
[is he old? is he older than she is? who knows. time? that's bullshit. this whole thing is bullshit. that's a scam. fuck the magical realms, here's 95 reasons why.]
You mentioned using magic. I don't think I brought that out in you.
[not for a lack of trying though, even if the methods were less than conventional. she could teach someone to fight, cook, and other survival necessities but magic? god, she didn't even know where to start. pro tip: do not pass off a magical spear to someone and tell them to do what she did. it doesn't end well.]
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oh. oh yeah. )
Ah... yeah, that's right. That's another thing I learned the night of the Masquerade. Before everything went pear-shaped, that is. I'm a magician, if you can believe it.
( a pause for grand effect—and then his shoulders jump. the "laugh" he lets out sounds more like it could've come from malak rather than his own mouth, a pitched caw by any other name. )
I'll be honest: I didn't practice very much. But in those... days, or weeks, or whatever it was when I still had fight left in me, I worked out a few tricks. Who would've thought you can do science and witchcraft all with the same mind, hmm? Not that it did me much good in the end. Without a proper teacher, I was never going to be powerful enough to take on the Devil. Don't know why I bothered, really. Desperation, maybe. Haven't done it since I became... this, so I've got no idea if I still can or not.
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You'll never know by wondering.
[it almost hurts to pry herself away, but she does. the absence of his hand over her back leaves her feeling an odd chill, but it's a thought she pushes down in favor of approaching the tree she'd lodged her spear into to yank it out. a quick look over to make sure it's free of sap, and morga tilts her chin up at julian with one brow arched. he's... certainly different to look at from a distance, but he really isn't terrible. using her spear, she points to him, and back towards another patch of trees where she assumes he came from.]
Take care of what you were doing before I jumped you and head back to where you're staying. I'll find you once I fetch my other foolish bird, and once we're settled in I'll show you the only teacher you'll ever need. And...
[she reaches up to unhook the red strip of cloth from her torso, balls it up and tosses it to him. the black and white beetle of the scourge is still attached, and that's when her mouth curls into a grin. if there was one thing she rarely let out of her sight, it's that. she means business.]
In case you have doubts about whether or not I'll actually follow.
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I... okay.
( she won't be back, will she. it was all a dream. an illusion. he squeezes the cloth in his hand, fortunately not able to get his claws in it. malak lets out a loud squawk, shakes himself out, and almost seems to sigh as he takes flight from his branch to go with morga. there, you see, he'll always come back, so he'll make sure she does, too.
not that julian knows what he's trying to say exactly. he just swallows and tries to look confident. great, the bird, too? )
Alright, my lair's not far. I'll... see you then.
( but he's not moving a muscle until she's out of sight. just in case it's the last time. you know. again. )
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by the time she finds the trail properly - mostly thanks to malak - the sun sits low, painting the sky in shades of purple, yellow, and orange. one shoulder carries her supplies and jæger, while the other sits malak and her spear sits with several decently-sized fish lashed to the end. now, the unfortunate thing about all of this? she's not quiet at all.
or, well. malak and jæger aren't. they started to "bicker" some fifteen minutes ago, no doubt alerting everything in the vicinity. she doesn't see julian yet, so... she takes the time to unload everything. the bag is dumped unceremoniously onto the ground, spear and fish are propped against a fallen log, and that's when all hell breaks loose.]
Would you two stop squabbling for five minutes?! Jæger — stop antagonizing him! Malak! Stop egging him on!
[is... is he just cawing, or is that laughter? she doesn't know. jæger, bless his heart, takes it as a challenge and screams, prompting morga to shoo him from her shoulder and onto her forearm. that's when the real scolding starts. it's nothing but that guttural old language of hers, punctuated by a wag of her finger and the protesting peeps that only an eagle can make. malak? he's not helping by any means, and now she's certain that he's laughing.
gods help her.]
Don't take that tone of voice with me — Devorak! Julian!
[julian. julian, please. please, she needs help. these children are out of control and she's lost control of her life.]
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he hears the approach well before it's near, though. his hearing is a lot better than it ever was, and in the depressing, maddening silence of not knowing whether anything he just experienced was real outside of the cloth he's still desperately clinging to, he's especially sensitive to it. of course all that ruckus blending together from a distance doesn't sound like anything he can make sense of—just birds shrieking and calling out, and... morga. shouting indistinctly. he's already taking on the laborious task of getting back up and starting out to investigate, but at the sound of his name—
he takes off like a bat out of hell. the crashing and stumbling through the brush is deafening, clumsy and frantic. one foot in front of the other is tough to manage, and he moves faster when he's hopping along like a bird would than actually trying to run. such is his urgency to reach them, assuming the worst as always, that he forgets he doesn't know how to fly. his wings stretch and beat hard once, twice, propelling him right up off the ground and hurtling him forward, stirring up all manner of debris in his wake. then he really is taking off like a bat (or bird) out of hell. fine, so it's not flying, per se. but he's definitely hovering, at the very least, and looks quite a fright doing it, teeth bared in a grimace, arms raised. his wingspan is at least double his width and nearly as tall, and each flap sends a flurry of un-attended to feathers everywhere along with the twigs and leaves and dirt. )
Morga?!
( there's. there's no danger here. just malak being annoying, an activity he abandons when julian reaches the clearing several inches above the ground, circling him with interest, and a very scolded jaeger. the moment he realizes nothing is tearing her or anyone else apart, his wings give out and he drops like a useless sack of rocks into the grass. )
Mmrpgh— you're here, you came back! Why were you yelling like that?! I -I thought you were... what happened?
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and with her burden completely gone, it gives her the freedom to stride over, lean down, and reach for both of julian's hands to haul him at least halfway into an upright position once he's fallen. oi - don't give her that look, malak. you're not out of the frying pan just yet, little man. morga just has more... pressing things to deal with right now. namely, julian. he doesn't seem hurt, just frazzled which is... good. very good, considering the way he went down. at worst his feathers are ruffled and sticking up in odd directions, but that's an easy fix.]
Oh, you know. Children arguing over nonsense. They were fine until they started going off over gods-knows-what. Jæger started looking at him in an odd way, Malak said something, and evidentially he had opinions about it.
[was it jealousy? it was probably jealousy on jæger's part, but that's a problem for future morga. waving a hand, morga exhales sharply through her nose and looks past julian's shoulder to the broken branches and path broken through the shrubbery. hm. she's never actually been in this position before. her face screws up for a moment, relaxes, and she tears her eyes away from the mess to look at the loose feathers on the ground.]
...Did you think I was in trouble?
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once he's upright, malak flutters down and lands on top of his head, preening himself (and julian, incidentally) and making all sorts of smug and unusual noises. call it self-satisfaction for getting away with his nonsense and now being essentially out of arm's reach, but maybe he's also just a little bit proud that his boy flew (kinda). )
I—yes. Sorry. I know you can handle yourself, I just... all I heard was noise and shouting, and then you called me, and I...
( like morga, julian cranes around to glance back the way he came. it looks like a bear crashed through the brush, except for the part where there isn't a footprint in sight. he's... kind of mortified. impressed, but mortified. he turns to face morga again instead, his eyes darting all over. she's fine. she's fine. )
It... wouldn't be the first time I thought I heard you calling, but it's the first time you've actually been here when I came running. Or... whatever I was doing.
( caw. )
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shut up. don't look at her. emotions and feelings are stupid.]
I'd say it looked like you were trying to fly. Emphasis on trying, but... You certainly burst from the trees like something on a mission. And I need you to understand I genuinely mean it when I say this; good job.
[was it her intention? oh, no no no. absolutely not. no, that thought never crossed her mind until now. he's given her something to think about for the future. set up and magic first, flying and other hidden strengths later.]
And... Thank you. For thinking of me.
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and what a smile it is. fragile and weak like most of the rest of him now (monster strength and stature aside, that is), but what makes it worth looking at is the glimmer of something like hope in it. a spark of the tiniest glowing ember of confidence. the tentatively heartened sense of encouragement from someone who hasn't heard praise of any sort in a long, long, long time. you see, he just needs a little boost, that's all. the devil-may-care boldness is in there, he just needs to find it again. )
You're, uh. You're welcome. I meanm I think of you all the time, not just when you're... that is, er... I'd come save you from anything. Even. Squabbling birds.
( haw! haw! haw! yeah, malak is definitely gloating. about everything. whatever swagger julian doesn't have anymore, malak clearly kept it in safekeeping for him. )
A-Anyway, did you... have you got everything? I've, uh. Made us a trail to follow back. It was all according to plan.
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Lead on. If we're lucky, someone will behave himself this time around.
[the sound jæger makes can only be described as a shocked peep, the feathers around his head flaring up for a fraction of a second. it doesn't last, though. they smooth back down with a shudder, and he immediately gives malak a look as he settles down into the fur of morga's cloak.
it's a good thing too, because it gives morga time to think about the rest of what he'd said. and... huh. hearing it like that? before, it'd be bait. actually it still is, but to hell with it. it's been months for her, and far too long for julian. if anythingit's something to talk and gently tease him about, just to see how much of the old julian is left.]
So, if you don't think of me being in grave danger, how do you think about me? Indulge an old woman's curiosity.
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which, considering how enormous he is, is. you know. a little silly. and he has no idea, because up until recently he really didn't move much at all. just sat there miserably at a table, drinking himself to death. or trying to, but it's like no matter what he did, he just couldn't die, and— )
Mmm. Come now, you're not old.
( ah. there he is. they're nearly halfway there by the time he pipes up, glancing back over his shoulder and then straight ahead again to watch where he's going. his voice is just a little bit faraway, the way it'd sometimes get when he was deep into a particularly personal story. huddled up beside the fire, telling her not about high seas adventure and harebrained schemes he pulled off once upon a moon, but about his life. about growing up in nevivon, about his precious little sister, about studying in prakra. never anything too expressly detailed, but fond memories, touching moments. that sort of thing. this is like that. )
I thought about you all the time. When I could remember... when I could think clearly at all... you came to mind often. When I think about you, I remember the last time I saw you. At the Masquerade, under the colored lights of that room you pulled me into. You were by far the least done-up person at that entire gig, and yet I...
( his voice drops a beat lower, and gets even more gravelly-sounding for it. )
I hadn't ever seen someone look so striking before. I kept that image in my mind for as long as I could. Since I knew I was never going to see it again.
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he's so godsdamned candid about it... almost enough to make her gut lurch, and morga knows she's standing at the precipice with only one way off; foward. whether or not she's bold enough to do it, though... only time has the answer to that. so, instead of thinking about the long fall before her, she busies herself with watching him move. underneath every little hop and duck under overhanging branches, she can still see what makes him him. it's damn near enough to turn the tight-lipped grimace into a hidden, genuine smile.]
You...
[her thoughts go back to that night. how she'd been moments from doing something foolish on more than one occasion. how julian seemed to blend in with the crowd as easily as a snake might hide on the forest floor, and draw attention to himself at the same time. he was in his element. her guide to that wild, colorful world that was oddly enchanting despite how uneasy it left her. the magic used in some of the rooms had been so thick she could nearly taste it (nevermind some of the smells from certain rooms of note), and that room in particular had been the least offensive to her senses.]
Now I'm glad I didn't take what they were trying to push on me. Did... it help?
[perhaps a foolish question, but it's... really the only thing she can think of to say besides something that'd embarrass herself. maybe even the both of them.]
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( now, that he says cheerfully enough, in that whimsically ironic way he says a lot of things. haha! nope, it was awful! he's kidding a little bit, but also really not at the same time. in some ways he'd rather not explain, just laugh it off and move on. but if there's one thing he can't help regaling people with, it's his suffering. and why not? there's so much of it, and he's so good at talking about it. )
It was helpful at first, I guess. It gave me something to fight for. I knew nothing would be as simple as making a deal and sitting back to let it play out, and he did always love to torment me by planting the idea in the back of my mind that you weren't really as safe as we'd agreed on, so... when it felt hopeless, I'd think of you and keep going. But eventually that just wasn't enough. When I couldn't fight anymore, it was just... hell. Sometimes I think I... wanted to forget all of you. So I wouldn't have to remember what I lost. Or how much I let you down.
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[not let her down. forget her. the list goes on and on, and no morga isn't sure if she has the drive to go through every little reason in one sitting. the list of actual people is much shorter, but each one is memorable in their own right. whether it be her son, former tribemates, enemies... more, even. where did julian sit? somewhere in the more category, though morga is reluctant to say it out loud. so, she won't. she doesn't. not right now. maybe later, maybe never.]
It's... almost mutual, you know. I tried to forget you once or twice, but I've got a few bad habits that made it impossible to do so. Habits that I'd be reluctant to let go of.
[like sinking her claws and teeth into her past - good and bad - and refusing to let go. wanting to protect what she had, rather than let those things fend for themselves like she ought to. it's one of her strengths, but also her biggest weakness.]
...I also hope you understand that you didn't let me down. Disappoint me? Yes, but... Everyone does that from time to time. But if I thought you were going to let me down, I would've sent you away the first time you traveled south of Vesuvia's borders. I saw potential in you, and I was glad to see that I wasn't wrong.