irisnetwork | un: weaseling

...I know. I could promise to get out of the way before it starts hurting too bad but that's not going to help you much, even if I can say that a single bit of radiance blasting doesn't tend to outright kill me. You need to be calm for this and I know you'll worry.

[Kind boy he is.]

Could do an old fashioned phone call? Speaker phone. Or if you know how to set up that video chat thing on your phone. Coco and I have done it once or twice.

[damn don't call him out like this??]

you're too young to be such an old fucking man

[Regardless, an invitation to join a video chat will pop up for him to accept or decline along with a guarded-looking Mav.]

Not so old I couldn't suggest it.

[He's still smiling softly, a laugh on his breath at that comment when he clicks through to the video chat. He's not in his dorm room or the library-- not enough privacy with either, even in the night, but he's found himself an empty classroom, a desk lamp lighting it.]

Hola, mijo. You doing okay over there?

[He rolls his eyes and sighs, shifting the phone enough that if he hadn't already guessed as much, Héctor could see he was in his room at the inn.]

Yeah, fucking fantastic. [And then before he can even take a pause, Mav huffs and spits out,] This is so fucking stupid, a waste of goddamn time.

[And now he's wasting Héctor's time, too, aaaaa...]

[Well that "fantastic" is a blatant lie but he knows Maverick by now.]

I get to talk to one of my favorite people and you get to either learn something new or call me out if I'm completely full of it. Not a waste of time at all.

Do you have anything around you can use your power on? Paper or something else?

[mrgrgr]

Uh, yeah? I got books around, I'm fucking me.

[He shrugs his shoulders and lifts his free hand.]

Just checking!

[One never knows how dedicated a person is to keeping their things intact.]

It's so long ago now I can barely remember feeling afraid, but I remember the trick and I always do it when I play. Didn't know my parents as I've said but I had an image of them and for a long time I played for them. Then for friends. Very quickly for Imelda and a long time just for her. And then Coco. I found, when I played for strangers, I couldn't find the heart in it. It felt forced and wrong. And when I played just for me, well, that was hard too. I never was very good at minding myself alone.

[Easier to care about others. So much harder to care what became of him without them.

He props the phone up carefully, so he can pull back away from it and show both his hands. His old standby spell. His markings light up under his skin, as they do when he's about to change. He mutters the incantation, moving his hands, and instead of a shift, the light pools at his hands, and then lifts, a little ball above them both. His markings keep glowing, without changing him, and he smiles warmly on the little light.]

I think of Coco, showing her things like this. Even though she can do so much magic on her own, I know she'd be thrilled. [He lets the light go out, and himself as well.] When my magic fails me, when I struggle with keeping this appearance, I think of her, who I need to be whole for, and I think of Imelda who likes me so much better like this.

...And one time I thought of you. That night you helped me. I'm sure you remember. [He takes a breath.] Okay. Grab whatever you're going to use. We'll get started. Let me know when you're ready.

[He hasn’t considered the possibility that he might accidentally destroy something, because that would be stupid. Books aren’t undead, and all he’s got is weak bitch color-changes.

Hearing that Héctor thought of him, when otherwise it was always Imelda, Coco, his loved ones... They’ve talked about being family a few times, and Mav calls him Esqueletío without hesitation, but the deeper implications of that haven’t really settled in. Héctor values him. Enough that he can be used to focus on and make magic happen. Maverick casually sets the phone aside so that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his blush shows up over the video. Good thing it’s an excuse to pick up one of his textbooks, too.]

...Yeah, okay. [He’s...ready. Though...] It ain’t something that’s pretty or cool to show off like music or making sure your kid doesn’t freak the fuck out, though. Mama can help with pretty much anything, but I dunno how to get this fucking magic to connect the dots in this case.

It doesn't have to be cool. That part doesn't matter so much as keeping someone's memory in mind and making the effort for them. But if you want to make it cool, the gold you put on Imelda's card that one time was pretty cool. Do you remember the flowers? You made sure my name wasn't on there.

[The memory doesn't sting anymore. Things worked out and he's happy.]

Spend a minute or two just using your power, changing pages, making patterns. No judgements of it, just let it be. You want to notice your power specifically.

[There's a long sigh. It's...sort of humiliating having Héctor take such a gentle, affectionate tone with him, even if Mav knows it's supposed to be grounding. Like, what, is he expected to break if he's not treated with kiddie gloves, or something? Then again, the older man has definitely seen him at some impressive lows.

But okay. Just changing text is easy enough. If that's all he's expected to do right now, he can do it no problem, the words on the textbook in front of him fading, glimmering, brightening to a blue, shifting into a rainbow gradient. Even without the visor Rex made him to help detect colors, it was becoming easier to bring forth the tones he couldn't actually see -- something he'd known already, but only consciously notices now that he's specifically made to in order to do as he's told.]

[It comes naturally of trying to teach, something he's done for ages without ever really being a teacher. Better to step easy than cause frustration.

He peers at the phone, not really able to see much but little glimpses. It's really cool, what he can see. He's got a crooked grin looking at it.

He leans back again.]

Alright. You should have a good feel for it. Close your eyes. Keep your power there at the surface. Take a breath, and without actually setting it off, draw on it as much as possible. The idea is to go inward with it as much as you can until you can find the source of it; your flame.

As you do, think of that person who means something to you, whoever it is you'd really want to do this for or share it with. Someone you want to make proud.

[Here's where things stop going so smoothly. He doesn't have to worry about how stupid his face looks with how he's got the phone angled, but it's still a background hum in his brain he has to stifle when he closes his eyes obediently and exhales. When he draws his breath in again, he tries to ignore the annoying buzz of his own thoughts berating him. Just follow the magic back where it came from. It should be warm, he thinks, because otherwise the whole naming convention as even dumber than it already was, and thinking about Ramona was an inner warmth as well.

It should be easy. It should be, but he can't fucking do it. He can't connect the wires long enough to make so much as a spark, not when he tries to trace the unnatural magic back and instead of leading to the same place of comfort and support, it runs even deeper in. Magic -- specifically a brilliant, radiant magic he could use to fight back against vampires and other creatures he so insistently hated -- was a dark, fearful, angry pit in his gut. It's a dead flame, just like he almost had been over and over and over. And he was one of the lucky ones.

Maverick doesn't feel any different even after a fair bit of time has passed, but he cracks open an eye to cautiously check all the same. Not only is he not glowing like a goddamn lightbulb, but the words on the page have returned to a cold black.]

Fucking -- what the shit -- [UGHH. He slams the book shut and chucks it across the room with a frustrated growl.] Fuck you, that's fucking bullshit!

Maverick!

[He starts, the moment the book is picked up and slammed. His hands go out but the only thing he can do is take the phone. There's more cursing, the furious sort, and he can't tell if it's directed at the book, him, or Maverick himself.]

Maverick, hang on. Please. It's- It's okay. Stay with me.

[His brows knot together. He holds his breath and waits.]

What happened just now? Can you walk me through it?

[All of the above. But at least he manages to bite back -- literally, he has to bite down on his tongue -- a slough of insults directed more pointedly at Héctor for trying to get him to calm down when he's acting perfectly reasonably, thank you very fucking much!]

How the fuck should I know?! I told you, I've never been able to do this shit! Apparently I'm too fucking stupid to do it even when I'm given a goddamn step by step fucking guide! I'm just shit at magic, jesus shitting fuck!

You're not stupid, you know you're not, and you're not bad at magic either. You were doing your usual just now. And you've healed me before too. You're not the problem here, okay? Getting it the first time rarely works for anyone.

[He sighs. He needs to de-escalate this if they're going to try again but he doesn't know if he can. Or if Maverick will let him.]

Talk to me. Please?

[Instead of responding right away, Maverick mutters more curses and hauls off the bed so he can snatch up his cigarettes. It's basically a miracle the phone gets shoved into his hoodie pocket instead of being left behind when he exits the room and makes his way up onto the roof. Pretty much anyone else and he would have absolutely been done with this.]

Would it kill you to shut the fuck up instead of treating me like a goddamn child? I know I'm shit at it, fucking trying to say otherwise just makes us both assholes. [hrm.

The screen is still dark, thanks to the time, but at least it isn't just the inside of his hoodie and a rhythmic click as it hit against his knife. Some frustrated attempts later, he manages to activate his lighter, takes a drag, and huffs out a swirling mess of smoke that wisps across the video. He still doesn't let it show any part of his face, not that his expression could be anything but angry.] What the fuck you want me to say?!

[The screen goes dark and Maverick is on the move. He sinks down, leaning into the desk he's seated himself at and waiting, wondering if Maverick will remember him. Sure enough, he does, eventually. He sighs.]

I stand by what I said. I'm not going to change my mind because you're angry about it.

[Because he's not a kid anymore. Fifteen years ago and he'd have caved in an instant.]

I'm not expecting anything specific, Maverick. I'm just trying to work through this with you. I don't know how you feel or what runs through your head. You have to let me in if I'm going to know that. I can only take guesses and I don't want to trample in with assumptions when you already feel terrible.

[He falls silent for a little while, letting the nicotine ease him back on down -- at least, that's what he tells himself so he doesn't have to feel too guilty about his own assumptions. Like it was his fault this felt condescending? Tch...]

I fucking don't know. I was just -- [huff] I was just trying to do what you fucking said. Tried to fucking follow the flame and thought about Mama. It just fucking... The trail fucking went cold, it was a goddamn dead end, I dunno.

[He bobs his head, mouth pressing. He can only vaguely see Maverick by the lit end of the cigarette and still not much. That doesn't mean Maverick can't see him.]

Keep bearing with me. I know this is... [He looks for words and fails to find better ones.] A pain in the ass. But put up with me a bit longer.

When it went cold, what were you feeling? Or sensing. Or even imagining.

[He's too emotionally stupid for this, and it's frustrating because all he wants to say is that he doesn't know and have that be good enough. What was he supposed to do when he just doesn't fucking know?

It would be so easy to snap at Héctor again, but he chews on the inside of his cheek instead.]

I was...thinking it's fucking stupid, but the candle fucking went out. I had both fucking thoughts right fucking there, but I couldn't fucking tie 'em together. Or like -- like I was trying to hotwire it, but there weren't any exposed wires.

[He gets a thoughtful look, staring down at the desk as he puzzles that. Like trying to hotwire it...]

...That might actually be it. [He holds up a finger, bidding Maverick to wait while he sorts out the thought.] I hadn't even considered but it would make sense.

[And it's been done before. Peter had tried it well before he'd come to him. Maybe the solution wasn't one or the other, but both.]

You've got a candle but you need a match. Or a key to pull the wires out but we'll stick with one metaphor. Maybe, what we need is another candle. It's more than possible to transfer radiance from one candle to another, give a boost. We just need someone with the control who's willing to give you a spark.

[But he doesn't want to get too excited. He keeps his hand up.]

Just, to make sure we're looking at all the angles here, another question. I'll try not to give too many more.

... What does the Radiance mean to you? When you think of using it of having it, is there anything you hope for? ... or fear?

[The idea of jumpstarting it using someone else's help is...scary. Cold, not that he makes that connection just yet. Best to just focus on what the other's saying.]

It's the thing I'm supposed to be able to do, what the fuck else would it be? [But...] If I could do it, I could actually fucking do something about vamps and other fuckers like that. I can fucking fight, sure, but I'm human. There's only so much I can fucking do on my own.

I can understand that.

[He's really no stronger than humans. Even weaker in some senses. There are just less ways for him to die. Still plenty to be afraid of.

But...]

... I'm wondering. I stayed away so you wouldn't hurt me. You want your radiance to protect yourself. What if... what if we tried something smaller. Something that... would be so small it would only have me standing back if I were there. Forget what it can do... forget vampires, forget the dead, forget everything that you're afraid and that you want this for. Just... try and make a light. So I can see you in the camera. No bigger than that. And if nothing happens, noticing what you feel so we can explain if we get another candle involved.

Would you be willing to try with me? One more time?

[Long. Pause.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to have his task dumbed down, he doesn't want to risk failing again at something that was supposed to be so, so easy, and he doesn't want Héctor to witness him failing. Hadn't he done enough of that? It certainly felt like a lot when it was his pride being ripped away from him.

His smoky exhale is shaky.]

...My shift starts soon. I should go.

[He can't lose anymore tonight.]

[He falls quiet himself. He pulls a quiet breath and presses his mouth together. Then, slowly, he nods.]

Alright, mijo.

[He understands. He knows it's not just a work shift. But he doesn't point it out. He's let the kid doesn't. He doesn't need to do more.]

I'm sorry I... I couldn't do more to help. Take care, okay?

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deuteranope - 2019-10-24 13:51 (UTC) - Expand

un: weaseling

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