dead to the power of two | OPEN

[runeing]

Who: celen's boys (aka charles and viktor), you?
Where: viktor's lab, lupin, the farm
What: viktor finally loses the battle against his illness and comes back. meanwhile, charles is learning magic (badly).
Warnings: death and dying, mentions of child abuse



PROMPTS IN COMMENTS.

▷ charles.
▷ viktor.

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charles rowland 💀 ota + closed below

[incorrigibles]

magic practice ▷ OTA

[incorrigibles]

[ this particular day finds charles at the farm — he is done volunteering for the day, and instead sits there in the middle of the field, heedless of the cold february weather. in front of him is a large tome that, when he lifts it up, one might see reads major arcana ii at the back. ]

No, [ he mutters, ] Nope, that's not it. Hold on, let me try this again —

[ who is he talking to? apparently the sheep who is hanging out nearby, or maybe just himself. in any case, he starts to recite something — latin, perhaps, by the sound of it — and it makes a golden cord appear right in front of him... only, the cord lashes forward, twirls itself tight around his leg and tugs him until he falls flat on his face on the ground. then, it simply disappears in a flash. ]

... Ow. [ lifting his head, charles looks up and straight at one of the farm cats, sitting right there and looking at him. it makes a sound like prrr, and charles glares at it. ]

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, furball.

[ and then, only just noticing you there, ] Oh. Uh, how long have you been there?

[nilhilistic]

[ rafal had been squinting for the most part. human magic is so odd sometimes. wands and books, staffs and rods. but then magic isn't an innate quality for them as it is with dragons. ]

Long enough, it seems, to be confused.

What are you doing?

[incorrigibles]

What does it look like?

[ he mumbles this not-actually-a-real-question in a somewhat petulant tone, like, yeah, he knows it looks bad, and the fact rafal has to ask is just more proof of that. he pushes himself up to a sitting position, and runs his hand through his hair before he actually answers, ]

Trying to learn magic. It's going... uh, reckon it's going pretty poorly, so far.

[nilhilistic]

What sort of magic was it?

[ it didn't look like anything he was familiar with. ]

[incorrigibles]

Uh, [ says charles, intelligibly, and looks down at the book, still open there on the ground in front of him. ]

The read-out-a-spell kind...?

[ yeah, this is his answer. it's a good thing he's only researching for a specific spell instead of broadly trying to learn, otherwise it might be bad times for aldrip. ]

[nilhilistic]

[ rafal gives him a flat look. ]

I meant, what were you attempting? Elemental magic? Conjuration? A tracking spell?

[incorrigibles]

Uh, [ charles repeats, and scratches the side of his neck. ]

I guess conjuration would be the closest to it? It's like a trap, sort of. Except it only seems to want to trap me and no one else.

[bulleting]

[Caitlyn visits the farm often enough, thanks to it being the official lodging of her white chocobo, Toby. She used the lands near the farm for training, too, but today she's happily spending time riding the bird she doesn't spend nearly as much time with as she would like.

They've been riding for some time, but knowing the bird needed to rest and eat, they were trotting back towards the barn when she noticed a familiar face seemingly get...tugged into the air then fall flat onto his face?? Caitlyn raises a curious brow, bringing Toby to a stop a few feet away from the ghostly disaster.]

Long enough to see you face plant in the dirt. [Caitlyn fights back a smile. She would dismount and offer to help him up, but...ghost, yeah? Not much use in trying if her hand is going to go right through him.]

Are you alright?

[incorrigibles]

Great, [ says charles, in a despairing tone — played up just a little, though, because if she's going to laugh at him, he might as well lean into it. ]

I'm aces, except for the way my ego might never recover.

[ as he pushes himself up, he presses his hand on his chest like it hurts to say that... but he's also fighting a smile, now. ]

[bulleting]

[Caitlyn's not laughing!! At least, openly, anyway. She's trying her best to keep her smirks on the downlow!!]

Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.

[And likely Vi, if she's honest. There isn't much they don't share with each other, these days. He does appear to be okay, so there's that, at least.]

Does it-- how.. [She pauses, taking a second to formulate the words she's trying to find before she speaks again.] Do you feel pain? Since you're... dead, technically speaking?

[incorrigibles]

[ his grin, meanwhile, finally breaks through — he nods, then. ]

Counting on that, Cait. [ sorry, he's just absorbed the shortened version of her name from scott and vi... does he even remember it's not her full name? anyway, the question makes his smile dim but not disappear, as if to show her he's not at all offended that she's asking. ]

Nah, I don't. I mean, it's possible to hurt me with the right tools, but... normal stuff like this, no.

[bulleting]

[For a time, there really weren't many that even called her Cait. Her family was so proper, it was always full first names only. Then there was Jayce. He started the nicknames, then Vi walked into her life. Vi was the first step in opening up her world, and once they found themselves here, making a life for themselves, making friends, Caitlyn isn't very surprised that the nicknames have lasted. She quite likes it. It's proof of how much her world has changed.

She finally dismounts from her chocobo, grabbing his reigns and leading him closer. The chocobo tilts his head curiously at Charles and squawks, and quickly busies himself with poking at the ground.]

That's... fascinating. So specific items can affect your...aura? [She really has no idea what to even call his visual state. Because he's definitely there. And yet transparent enough to disappear through walls and be unable to drink.

There are spirits in Runeterra, and are a big part of Ionian culture and life, but she's mostly just heard those things in stories. She's never really witnessed them in her life, but that's hardly the same thing as what Charles was.]

late january; un: altius

[chimericalclaw]

[It's been about two weeks since their collective dreaming. He's done a spectacular job of pretending nothing is wrong, going about his usual business and delving into a new venture to distract himself.

The distractions have stopped working. With the idea that perhaps he needs a different one, he texts a particular ghost:]

Charles, do you have time for that walk we discussed?

[incorrigibles]

[ meanwhile charles, who actually ended up having quite a nice time during the dreams, has been going about his everyday life as normal; and when the text comes in, well, he's just delighted, honestly. the guy remembers what they talked about! and wants to actually come with him! ]

yeah!! course i do, i'm real glad you asked! when do you wanna go?

[ somehow, he manages to make even his text responses drip with enthusiasm... ]

[chimericalclaw]

[It's not as though Altius thought Charles wasn't being sincere when he offered, but the response certainly confirms it solidly.]

Is today doable?

[As soon as possible, preferably. He has to keep moving, or... something might catch up with him.]

[incorrigibles]

[ well — either he's really eager to go, or there's something else. as a master of evasive words and actions, charles thinks maybe, maybe there's something to the way he's speaking so bluntly... but maybe it's just his style. that could easily be it, too. best not read too much into it. ]

sure. meet me at the entrance to pessiria forest in... uh, is half an hour too soon? an hour?

[chimericalclaw]

Why don't I try for 45?

[Just some lame joking ha ha :) He's fine. He's fine because there is no other option.

He is so fine, in fact, that he won't even arrive precisely on time; he approaches the forest a few minutes vaguely early, his distant gaze mostly on the foliage between moments of glancing about for Charles, hands in his pockets. Whether the detective knows what he looks like or not, he shouldn't be hard to guess as being the man in question; he's dressed in appropriately for a hike that he clearly doesn't want to be cold for, if the jacket and earmuffs are any indication, carrying only a small shoulder bag unsuited to carry much but a drink and few snacks. Admittedly, he should have broken the new boots in...]

[incorrigibles]

45 is aces, mate.

[ charles, after making sure to leave a message about where he's off to (and also make sure there's dinner in the fridge in case he's late, because otherwise his boyfriend will just eat a sandwich and call it a day and that's not dinner, but he digresses), makes it to the rendezvous point in exactly forty-two minutes, seeing how there's no conveniently placed mirrors nearby to cut his travel time short.

he's dressed, well, not at all differently from his usual: black trousers more suited for walking around town than hiking, a red polo shirt, a bomber jacket and a black overcoat thrown on top. all in all, he doesn't look at all like someone who's prepared to hike through potentially dangerous woods and fields, except maybe for the backpack slung over his shoulder. ]

Cheers, [ he calls out brightly as he sees zekarion, waving for good measure as he bounces closer. ] Good to see you in person. So, ready to brave the wildlife?

scoots in here

[coolerjunpei]

[On a perfectly normal evening, Junpei is doing the dishes. He insists on this, because Charles does all the cooking despite not getting to enjoy the food, therefore Junpei will do the dishes, no arguments. Not that he'll stop Charles from lingering and passing him plates and so on, which is usually how it goes, because why should they ever be in separate rooms for more than ten minutes at home? Silly.

So here he is, rinsing a pot. Odd as the shared dreams were a few weeks ago, they weren't that terrible? Things have been good for a while in Aldrip, and of course things are always good here in their ultra domestic household. Junpei's biggest stress in the past few weeks has been cleaning up sandwich messes at work, which is nice.

He rinses the pot and passes it to Charles, because of course Charles is right there, and he says,] Hey, can I ask you a personal thing? You don't have to answer.

[That's a given, of course, and they've been better at not not answering, but he still likes to say it.]

twirls you

[incorrigibles]

[ the past weeks have been... nice, actually, even with the dreams — he'd enjoyed the ones he'd been in, with the exception of a few of them, and outside of that life in aldrip has been relatively good. well, it's always good with the two of them, of course, no matter what else is happening, and the domestic routine is a steady warmth in his chest every time.

he's been branching out with dishes lately, too, and today was for panko-crusted chicken with rice, hence the pot junpei is rinsing, because they don't have a rice cooker — charles takes it, and as he's reaching for a towel to dry the pot and put it back in its drawer, he says, ] Yeah, course you can.

[ if there's anyone here who has the right to ask him anything, ever, it's junpei. but he does dry the pot and put it away first, before turning to him; something in the tone tells him he shouldn't be answering this while focused on the dishes... or maybe it's the immediate offer for him to avoid answering altogether. in any case; he's done with the pot, he's listening, so hit him with it. ]

[coolerjunpei]

[Oh, Junpei thinks, as he picks up a plate, he's listening-listening, alright. He's going to keep scrubbing dishes, but only because he knows if he doesn't, they're going to forget to finish these until tomorrow, and then it'll be gross? Regardless.]

So I was thinking the other day, and maybe I'm just thinking too hard, but I've never seen you without a shirt on. And I'm not, like, complaining, [of course not, every time Charles reaches up to a high shelf or wears Junpei's t-shirt and he gets a look at a sliver of midriff he loses at least an hour of productivity,] But is that... a thing?

[A thing, but what else would he call it? It was a coincidence before but now it feels like a pattern, and when it's one of them with a pattern of behavior, it's somehow always one of those shitty things they try not to talk about. So: here's talking about it, unless Charles takes the free out, which is still on the table.

It's just, well. Knowing them, Junpei figures it's got to be either "I'm just a shirts all the time guy, even at the beach," or the worst thing he's ever heard. Either way, they made that promise...]

[incorrigibles]

[ well, listening-listening doesn't mean he's not going to take the plates handed to him and put them on the rack to dry... but in the current absence of plates, he's going to focus on junpei — and as he does so, the way he freezes at the question is almost painfully obvious. his smile doesn't falter; of course it doesn't, it's his immediate response in a situation like this, too ingrained in him for him to drop it... but it's the kind of smile that never quite reaches his eyes. ]

It's, [ he starts, that smile still firmly in place, ] It's nothing. I mean, it's fine, it's not —

[ and god, he can hear himself, knows that the halting words are all too close to taking that out offered to him; but what if he does? will he simply continue to keep his shirt on like he has for now, every day when they're together? and it isn't that he doesn't trust junpei with the knowledge — of course he does. but somehow, carrying junpei's burdens for him is far easier than letting him carry his burdens in return.

and yet, they promised. they promised. ]

... It's just going to upset you, [ he says finally, looking down and then up again, meeting junpei's eyes with a wordless apology. ]

[coolerjunpei]

[Points for worst thing ever, Junpei thinks, almost as soon as Charles' smile gets like that. He just keeps washing this same plate, waiting for Charles to work out what he wants to do; they promised, and he knows that has to be a big part of Charles fumbling through his half-started excuse there, so—he can wait. Charles has always waited for him.

And oh, if this were not one of those terrible things, Charles giving Junpei's own line back to him would be kind of funny. He scoffs and sticks one hand under the faucet to rinse off the soap, then reaches over to cup Charles' cheek... wetly. Wetly is fine.]

Yeah, probably, [he says, because it's true, and shrugs, because that doesn't matter to him as much as his promise to Charles.] Not really worried about it.

[He's been upset before and he can be again, if needs must—! He pulls his hand away and holds out the plate.]

We've got silverware and utensils left, so... think about it? You've got a whole couple minutes.

[incorrigibles]

[ the line — yes, the line is entirely deliberate, of course, because he remembers it all too well from the last time they had one of these conversations. and he says it not as an excuse, or even a deterrent; it hadn't stopped him from wanting to know everything junpei had been through, had it? and he doesn't believe for one moment it's going to be enough to stop junpei, either.

instead, it's an explanation and a pre-emptive apology all at once, because it will upset him, he knows that much, because as much as he's always tried to downplay his home life, as much as his customary response to anything he's ever said about it has been it's fine —

well. he isn't an idiot. he does know it's not, in fact, at all fine. and he tilts his head into the touch and says, ] I know. [ of course junpei isn't worried about it; it's him who's worried, here, but he's just going to have to endure that, he thinks.

he takes the plate, then, but shakes his head to that think about it; he's already thought about it. ] We promised, yeah? I meant it, then. I still mean it. If you want to know...

[ he dries the plate and sets it aside with a shrug. ] It'll be easier if I just show you. [ after silverware and utensils, that is. ]