[ Quentin nods--he knows that feeling too well. His dad's model airplane, broken. His mother's ashtray, accidentally smashed. His general lack of awareness about the world around him while he was daydreaming was a nightmare for his folks, of course he'd been told to head to his room without breakfast a couple of times.
He notices it though, the lack of panic in the little monk's voice. At the very least, it seems like it's evened out a bit. Quentin, in turn, relaxes as well, but for a different reason.
Diarmuid has made the fatalistic mistake of asking Quentin goddamn Coldwater about the Fillory and Further series. He wrote his entrance essay to Yale about the stupid books. ]
It's actually--it's really fascinating, uh, especially when you consider the time it was written in and everything, like, just from am author standpoint? So it's about this family, the Chatwins, and there's a big war so they have to live in the countryside, and they hate it, but they find a magical world inside a clock called Fillory, and there's--I mean I don't want to spoil it--but there's goblins and talking animals and Elves and Dwarves and Dryads and Humbledrum, he's my favourite, he's this like, uuuh, talking bear that nurses Jane back to health after she gets--no no, wait, no spoilers--anyway they have to run around to try to flee from the Watcherwoman, who plans clocks in trees and it's just--it's just, like--it's so--it's just so dynamic, you know? You know. Oh! And there are these Gods, uh, twin rams, Ember and Umber, and they send the children on all of these amazing quests--actually a really clever deus ex machina, except for the part where it's all real.
He notices it though, the lack of panic in the little monk's voice. At the very least, it seems like it's evened out a bit. Quentin, in turn, relaxes as well, but for a different reason.
Diarmuid has made the fatalistic mistake of asking Quentin goddamn Coldwater about the Fillory and Further series. He wrote his entrance essay to Yale about the stupid books. ]
It's actually--it's really fascinating, uh, especially when you consider the time it was written in and everything, like, just from am author standpoint? So it's about this family, the Chatwins, and there's a big war so they have to live in the countryside, and they hate it, but they find a magical world inside a clock called Fillory, and there's--I mean I don't want to spoil it--but there's goblins and talking animals and Elves and Dwarves and Dryads and Humbledrum, he's my favourite, he's this like, uuuh, talking bear that nurses Jane back to health after she gets--no no, wait, no spoilers--anyway they have to run around to try to flee from the Watcherwoman, who plans clocks in trees and it's just--it's just, like--it's so--it's just so dynamic, you know? You know. Oh! And there are these Gods, uh, twin rams, Ember and Umber, and they send the children on all of these amazing quests--actually a really clever deus ex machina, except for the part where it's all real.
[Diarmuid stares through the whole lecture, eyes slightly widened, lips thinned, nary a word offered to interrupt Quentin as he gets going.
It's only toward the end (if it even is the end) of the talking that his head dips forward a little, wild curls in his eyes briefly as he hunches up a little—]
It's only toward the end (if it even is the end) of the talking that his head dips forward a little, wild curls in his eyes briefly as he hunches up a little—]
Edited 2019-09-24 02:04 (UTC)
[The shuddering of shoulders makes way for the slow crescendo of laughter, high and boyish and full of surprisingly earnest mirth. More tears spring into his eyes, in part from humor but mostly from pain — a hand moves to his aching, jolting shoulder, but he continues to laugh. If you'd have seen the track marks of tears, you would have never thought they were from a terrible sadness earlier.]
Ow — ow, ow, ow...! Y-you — ha —
Ow, ow.
Such a love for stories...! You would have been banned from the oratory by the abbot, too; it's like looking into a mirror. [He leans in a little more, rubbing the edge of his palm over the corners of his eyes. Fear may be a deep ugly wound in him right now, but there's some sort of salve in just how harmless the eager rambling is, and it almost helps confirm Quentin's repaired demeanor more than the apology did.] How many books are there? Do you have them all?
Ow — ow, ow, ow...! Y-you — ha —
Ow, ow.
Such a love for stories...! You would have been banned from the oratory by the abbot, too; it's like looking into a mirror. [He leans in a little more, rubbing the edge of his palm over the corners of his eyes. Fear may be a deep ugly wound in him right now, but there's some sort of salve in just how harmless the eager rambling is, and it almost helps confirm Quentin's repaired demeanor more than the apology did.] How many books are there? Do you have them all?
[He scowls and rolls his eyes at perceived insincerity, looking disappointed.]
I want you to know you were dishonest by omission, and I regret telling you anything.
I shall not be telling you of any troubles I face from here on out.
Good night, Wade.
[CLICK.]
I want you to know you were dishonest by omission, and I regret telling you anything.
I shall not be telling you of any troubles I face from here on out.
Good night, Wade.
[CLICK.]
[ Oh. Quentin blinks rapidly, absolutely caught off guard the way Diarmuid laughs. At first he thinks it's at him, and he can feel the flush of embarrassment creep up on the back of his neck.
Okay. Okay, this isn't so bad. He'll take the little monk dude laughing at him over being scared of him any day. It's not the first time, and so Quentin tentatively smiles back, tainted with only a little bit of confusion. Just a bit. Until, of course, the other reveals that he was essentially blocked from telling stories. All that embarrassment and confusion is gone, and it's instantly replaced with familiarity. If he hadn't hated himself as much as he did when he was that age, if he wasn't constantly checking himself into hospitals, he would have probably been banned from whatever an Oratorium was, too. Or the modern Earth equivalent. Or the non-religious equivalent. Whatever.
He doesn't feel as bad now. Probably because not only has Diarmuid forgiven him (hadn't he done that as he was being attacked?) but because they found a little bit of common ground. He leans forward, far less nervous, and starts pouring more tea for the both of them. ]
There are five, yeah, and a sixth one that was never actually published. [ And that had been a mess. ] Hey--speaking of Fillory, I know this is going to sound crazy, but how good are you with animals?
Okay. Okay, this isn't so bad. He'll take the little monk dude laughing at him over being scared of him any day. It's not the first time, and so Quentin tentatively smiles back, tainted with only a little bit of confusion. Just a bit. Until, of course, the other reveals that he was essentially blocked from telling stories. All that embarrassment and confusion is gone, and it's instantly replaced with familiarity. If he hadn't hated himself as much as he did when he was that age, if he wasn't constantly checking himself into hospitals, he would have probably been banned from whatever an Oratorium was, too. Or the modern Earth equivalent. Or the non-religious equivalent. Whatever.
He doesn't feel as bad now. Probably because not only has Diarmuid forgiven him (hadn't he done that as he was being attacked?) but because they found a little bit of common ground. He leans forward, far less nervous, and starts pouring more tea for the both of them. ]
There are five, yeah, and a sixth one that was never actually published. [ And that had been a mess. ] Hey--speaking of Fillory, I know this is going to sound crazy, but how good are you with animals?
[He blinks at that, eyes red-rimmed but somewhat less guarded.]
I — Well enough, I suppose. I helped with the livestock on the monastery grounds.
In Kilmannán. Chickens and goats... horses... creatures of that kind. Brother Darragh was a farrier before he was a monk, so he taught me how to file hooves and... things of that nature...
[He trails off, feeling a little foolish in his ramblings.
Quentin probably isn't asking about that sort of skill in animal care.]
I — Well enough, I suppose. I helped with the livestock on the monastery grounds.
In Kilmannán. Chickens and goats... horses... creatures of that kind. Brother Darragh was a farrier before he was a monk, so he taught me how to file hooves and... things of that nature...
[He trails off, feeling a little foolish in his ramblings.
Quentin probably isn't asking about that sort of skill in animal care.]
[ It's an impulse. Something left over from the Cottage in Fillory, he thinks--Quentin grabs an extra napkin and wordlessly slides it to Diarmuid, just in case he wants to wipe his face or compose himself. His eyes had looked pretty red, probably with emotion. Now that things have eased between them, Quentin's guilt is slow being eclipsed by his Dad instincts. Sure, Diarmuid's not a little kid, but he is significantly younger than him. ]
What about rabbits? Eliot and I were thinking that if something like this happens again and you need help, we want to be there for you. There's a way you can call us for help no matter what, but it means you'd get a pet. A magical one. You don't have to answer right away or anything, and I can explain more, but... no rush, okay? Let's just drink some tea.
What about rabbits? Eliot and I were thinking that if something like this happens again and you need help, we want to be there for you. There's a way you can call us for help no matter what, but it means you'd get a pet. A magical one. You don't have to answer right away or anything, and I can explain more, but... no rush, okay? Let's just drink some tea.
... I do like rabbits. I'm rarely ever close enough to a wild hare to pet it, but...
[He looks a little confused, though, for plenty good reason. Normal folks usually don't offer magical pets to people — and with that in mind, he can't even imagine that a rabbit is interwoven with calling for help. He reaches for his tea, brow still furrowed, sips, considers-]
How does such a thing work...?
[He looks a little confused, though, for plenty good reason. Normal folks usually don't offer magical pets to people — and with that in mind, he can't even imagine that a rabbit is interwoven with calling for help. He reaches for his tea, brow still furrowed, sips, considers-]
How does such a thing work...?
Edited 2019-10-06 09:38 (UTC)
[ He opens his mouth and he really is about to explain the technical details--the Neitherlands, the properties of Fillorian rabbits (if they even are Fillorian), maybe even delve really deep into the source of all magic when he decides very quickly not to.
The last thing he needs is to overwhelm him, so he treads it like he does when someone's having problems in math: simple first, then build up. ]
Well, it's pretty much a normal bunny. For some reason, rabbits have a better time traveling between worlds. These ones can find whoever you want, and repeat a short sentence or phrase. Sort of like your Fluid, but, uh. Alive. You just tell them who to find, give them the message, set them down, and they hop to it. Literally.
Scared the shit out of me when I first got a message by bunny, I'm gonna be honest.
The last thing he needs is to overwhelm him, so he treads it like he does when someone's having problems in math: simple first, then build up. ]
Well, it's pretty much a normal bunny. For some reason, rabbits have a better time traveling between worlds. These ones can find whoever you want, and repeat a short sentence or phrase. Sort of like your Fluid, but, uh. Alive. You just tell them who to find, give them the message, set them down, and they hop to it. Literally.
Scared the shit out of me when I first got a message by bunny, I'm gonna be honest.
Oh, man, that's a way better analogy. Yeah. Carrier pigeons, but with fluffy tails.
I mean it, though. I know you might not trust me and that's--I'm not asking you to change your opinion. But if you're in a bind, I mean... you've seen it. I'm a Magician. I want to be there for you.
I mean it, though. I know you might not trust me and that's--I'm not asking you to change your opinion. But if you're in a bind, I mean... you've seen it. I'm a Magician. I want to be there for you.
[Diarmuid's quiet for a long moment, looking at his tea and considering the man's words with careful, earnest attention. Honestly, his stomach is in knots — relieved ones, in some strange way, like someone who has just finished a roller coaster ride at that park. It's not hard to imagine the man in front of him uses his power for good, even after seeing what he'd seen, but he also thinks if he saw that power blossom in front of him again he might hide in a panic.
But perhaps it will not always be that way. And perhaps it is a fear he can learn... to force himself to overcome. He's had to do it here before; he'll have to do it again. After a moment and a deep breath through his nose, he nods.]
... I'll remember.
But perhaps it will not always be that way. And perhaps it is a fear he can learn... to force himself to overcome. He's had to do it here before; he'll have to do it again. After a moment and a deep breath through his nose, he nods.]
... I'll remember.
dropped off a few days after their lamp conversation--
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deadboywalking
2019-12-01 04:34 am (UTC)(link)
[these are left on diarmuid's front porch, along with plenty of batteries for when they run low. there's a carefully-drawn little how-to guide, all pictures, for putting in the batteries and turning the lamps on and off, and it's signed with a little drawing of a rabbit.]
[ Left outside Diarmuid's door is a small, wooden crate filled with a variety of things. First, a few bottles of homemade eggnog. There is also a bundle of cinnamon sticks and whole nutmeg, attached to a tiny grater so you can add fresh spices to your festive drink. Tucked away in the crate is also a festive tin, filled with a variety of holiday cookies - shortbread, gingerbread, and sugar cookies.
It’s not all just food and drink. Safely concealed in a small, cloth bag, is a charm, along with a note: wear me for a little extra warmth!. And, just for Diarmuid, there's the second book (first edition) in the Fillory series.
A tag attached to the crate simply says: Happy holidays, from Q & Eliot. (PS the eggnog is non-alcoholic.). ]
It’s not all just food and drink. Safely concealed in a small, cloth bag, is a charm, along with a note: wear me for a little extra warmth!. And, just for Diarmuid, there's the second book (first edition) in the Fillory series.
A tag attached to the crate simply says: Happy holidays, from Q & Eliot. (PS the eggnog is non-alcoholic.). ]
[Diarmuid will get a delivery on Christmas morning, in forest wrapping paper. It contains a book and a pair of super cozy slippers. The card says, A view of home you might not have seen before. Love, Clara.]
[ On the morning of the 25th, Diarmuid might wake to find a package at his front step that includes a copy of whatever the universe equivalent is of The Hobbit, and a box of cookies. ]
[ Diarmuid will be waking up to having been the victim of a home invader -- which is probably alarming, if it weren't for the fact that all they did was decorate his place with ugly Christmas crafts and leave a bunch of wrapped presents, ranging from random kids toys, stuffed animals, kazoos, kitchen supplies and in a stocking hanging on the wall -- coal
FOR SASSIN' HIM.
What do you even get kids?
When all else fails, you grab whatever looks fun. Like that giant bubble wand. ]
FOR SASSIN' HIM.
What do you even get kids?
When all else fails, you grab whatever looks fun. Like that giant bubble wand. ]
[ As promised, Alice leaves a charm pendant pretend it's accurate, idk if it is in a cloth bag hanging from the doorknob of his front door. There is a handwritten note with it: ]
Protection talisman, inscribed with the Seal of Solomon. Inscribed using focused sunlight. Please be safe as you seek knowledge.
—AQ
Protection talisman, inscribed with the Seal of Solomon. Inscribed using focused sunlight. Please be safe as you seek knowledge.
—AQ
Edited 2019-12-26 19:29 (UTC)
[Just to prove herself, Rei has opted to send a video message first, before seeking out the young monk. The video opens with an image of Rei and her crows seated on a park bench, and she's holding up a hand written sign with the date on it.
Her words come slow, falteringly. As though she's ashamed of something.]
Diarmuid?
Chloe told me that you are still here.
Please send me a reply, let me know that you are. I hope that you are well. I am sorry that I was not here to help you, this last year.
Her words come slow, falteringly. As though she's ashamed of something.]
Diarmuid?
Chloe told me that you are still here.
Please send me a reply, let me know that you are. I hope that you are well. I am sorry that I was not here to help you, this last year.
Edited 2020-03-12 04:27 (UTC)
[If there's anyone who can master the art of embodying a '!' symbol, it's Diarmuid, who looks absolutely stunned for a moment while his brain catches up on his end of the feed. It's been such a long time — is his eye playing tricks on him? It wouldn't be the first time.]
Rei?!
Is that really you? You've returned?
[He hates to sound hopeful, because it's not good to be trapped in this place...
But he would so like to see her again.]
Rei?!
Is that really you? You've returned?
[He hates to sound hopeful, because it's not good to be trapped in this place...
But he would so like to see her again.]
[It's true. He is very !!.
Rei watches, letting him process. It has been a year, and he's...very...Diarmuid.]
It's truly me. No tricks of the dream. If you need me to prove it, I will do what I can.
Rei watches, letting him process. It has been a year, and he's...very...Diarmuid.]
It's truly me. No tricks of the dream. If you need me to prove it, I will do what I can.
[A bright smile pulls at his lips, and he clasps his hands together.]
I believe you...! It's just... it's a rarity that anyone ever return, especially with their memories intact...! [He slaps a hand over his heart, sighing in relief.] I'm sorry that you're trapped yet again, but — but it's so relieving to hear you've not forgotten us.
Would you like the visit?
I believe you...! It's just... it's a rarity that anyone ever return, especially with their memories intact...! [He slaps a hand over his heart, sighing in relief.] I'm sorry that you're trapped yet again, but — but it's so relieving to hear you've not forgotten us.
Would you like the visit?
I would very much like that.
[She straightens up, beaming at the camera.]
Where are you staying?
[She straightens up, beaming at the camera.]
Where are you staying?
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