[open; dated 4/20] // dream fades before dawn

[fionnuisce]

Characters: Waver and open!
Setting: Floor 25
Format: Action, but I will try to match.
Summary: Someone doesn't cope well with screwing up.
Warnings: None yet.

[Since his revival, Waver hadn't slept. He certainly hadn't eaten, considering the miserable state of the cafeteria's choices. Not that he thought it mattered; there were more important things to do.]

[Twice, twice now he'd failed and gotten himself killed. This time it wasn't the death itself that bothered him (though painful, it had at least been quick) so much as it was the circumstances surrounding it. If he hadn't hesitated, if he hadn't faltered, if he hadn't been terrible with one of the most basic forms of magecraft...a thousand 'if' possibilities had run through his head countless times over by now.]

[Waver could be found sitting in the meadow on the twenty-fifth floor, and in time he'd surrounded himself with scattered and discarded notebook pages--upon which were drawn sigils both magical and alchemical in nature. It was clear he'd spent hours there (if not a day or two) doing...what was he doing? There was a small knife in his left hand, which Waver seemed to be using to cut various parts off flowers; sometimes focusing on only one, and occasionally several at a time.]

[However many he'd damaged, the green-suited magus would then hold out his hand and appear to be in deep concentration. If he was lucky, a pale green light would flicker and crackle around his hand, and the flowers would appear to slowly repair themselves.]

[...But he usually wasn't lucky. Waver estimated that even after endless hours' practice, his healing magecraft would only work approximately five times out of ten, and would only heal effectively three out of those five. No matter; he had absolutely no intention of leaving this floor until he got it right. What had begun as a harsh realization of the need for practice had rapidly spiraled downward into an obsessive task of repeated motions and stubborn fixation.]

[For him, healing was a difficult thing, one which all his thoughts had to be focused on. Unfortunately, he was thinking of far too many more troubling things; his obsessive practice had turned to an exercise in futility.]

Comments

meadow

[puppy_lancer]

Hey.

[Lancer's voice is strangely cracked as he speaks to Waver. He's crossing his arms and looking jumpier than he usually does. This week hasn't been kind to him. In fact, his form had only just reverted to normal.]

You practicing repairs or something?

[fionnuisce]

[The voice snapped him out of what little concentration he'd been able to keep, light around his hand cracking and fading. And if looks could kill, Lancer might have died (again) on the spot.]

In a manner of speaking.

[His patience was at its limit with all that had happened, but Waver was making a concentrated effort to be civil.]

[puppy_lancer]

[Lancer was well-accustomed to deathglares, having received a fair number under Misaya.]

That's some pretty basic magecraft.

[He was just a little worried about Diarmuid and Waver if Waver's magecraft was really only at those levels.]

[fionnuisce]

What of it.

[Tread carefully, Lancer.]

[puppy_lancer]

You've got some specialty to make up for it, right? Like being better with attacking rather than repairs or experiments?

[He can remember the mercury. Maybe Waver was just one of those Masters who could fight at their Servants' side instead of supporting them with healing spells and whatnot.]

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid should have been here a lot sooner. He should have gone to his master as soon as he woke up after dying the first time. But his brother had been there. His brother who had been twisted and altered and was in pain. Staying with him and just trying to ease his pain had taken a good part of the day.

And then Cecil had come looking for him to help her friend. Sadly, the only help they had been able to give Kain had been release into death. A death that ended up fixing nothing. A death that will haunt Diarmuid forever because it had been in vain. It doesn't matter that death isn't permanent here.

Then death had found Diarmuid again and he'd lost another day. In fact, he only woke up a short time ago. He can still feel the paralysis in his limbs if he thinks about it hard enough. For every moment he has been in control this week, two others he has been out of control.

Now he stands in the meadow watching Waver work--obsesses--over something in his lap. What it is doesn't really matter to Diarmuid, though. What worries him is just how strongly he can feel the obsession coming from his master and how unsteady he seems underneath that obsession.

Silently, Diarmuid crosses the distance between them, leaning down to wrap his arms around Waver from behind, his hands sliding down his friend's arms after a moment to still his actions.]

Stop now. You need to rest.

[fionnuisce]

...Why didn't you leave?

[His shoulders had gone rigid under the unexpected touch; Waver had been so lost in concentration that he didn't even sense his own Servant's presence. The magus' voice was strained, prana around his hand fading as he lowered his arm.]

You could have survived, I could have saved you, so why didn't you leave-?!

[Voice raised out of some form of desperation rather than anger, Waver disregarded Diarmuid's (correct) observation altogether.]

[oathshackledbird]

I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave you.

[Diarmuid doesn't let Waver's ridged posture or angry voice upset him. Instead, he keeps his voice and touch gentle.]

We do things together now. I will do anything for you, but I will not leave you. Please, I beg you. Don't ask me to do it again. I don't like having to disobey you.

[fionnuisce]

Why?! You'd rather die than let me try to protect you?! You would actually prefer to stay and die with an idiot that can't even use healing magecraft right?!

[proteusmoon]

[ Kain was nowhere to be found. Not that Cecil found that particularly surprising, but she had still, as always, hoped that it would not be the case. She understood his reasons and she couldn't say that she would not feel the same, had their places been reversed, but she still didn't believe that separation was what was wisest now, especially when the administrators had information both vital and personal that they didn't previously have.

She knew the dragon knight wouldn't be in the meadow, considering there were no high places for him brood in, however, as she was passing the floor, she thought to check anyway just in case and the sight of who she did see on this floor caught her attention.

What had Lancelot and Kariya called him? Lord Melloi? Lord El-Melloi? Cecil couldn't remember exactly, but she was certain she wasn't mistaken. She'd watched as the retrieval units took his body away on the fourth floor of the dormitory levels. Of course, no one had told her who he was, exactly, but she gathered that he must have been important to Diarmuid and possibly to Lancer as well, so she decided to introduce herself. ]

Excuse me for intruding...

[ He did look rather busy. Was this magic he was doing? It seemed so complex to her. ]

I'm aware we don't know one another, but I believe we have some friends in common. Do you know Diarmuid Ua Duibhne and Lancer?

[fionnuisce]

[God dammit people were just going to keep breaking his concentration. Waver scowled before lowering his hand, looking to Cecil with his best attempt at being patient under the circumstances.]

Yes, I do. Is there something you wanted?

[proteusmoon]

[ Cecil winced inwardly a little. ]

I'm sorry. It's just that I... Well, I was concerned— about you, actually. I was there the day Sir Lancelot killed you. I arrived at the scene after the fact of the matter. I would have come to call on you sooner, but I've been rather preoccupied since, unfortunately.

[fionnuisce]

Oh--well, that explains a bit.

[Like 'how the hell do you know me again?']

Waver Velvet. And you are?

[canofworms]

[Not far away, there's a quiet shadow -- earlier, perhaps, it had simply been a collection of smaller ones droning by on some errand or other, but now it's someone who's been watching Waver litter the grass.

Kariya can recognize that way of going through the motions: the rigidity of frustration and the sag of exhaustion. He doesn't recognize the magecraft itself, but it's the spirit of the thing that matters. Somewhere in himself there's a hint of sympathy, but he's too tired and emptied out to find it at the moment.

He watches for a little while longer before speaking up.]

The mark of insanity is to do the same thing again and again expecting different results, isn't it?

[Now he steps a little closer, paper crunching underfoot. He picks up a couple to smooth them out and look at the scribbles.]

Not everyone's a fit for every kind of magecraft. That's basics, Waver Velvet.

[fionnuisce]

I'm not in any mood to be lectured, thank you.

[Waver tried to keep his concentration as he spoke; the prana focused in his hand flickered and faded as he divided his attention enough to answer.]

[canofworms]

[He laughs, quietly.]

A bit of advice. I wouldn't bother with a lecture; you're too old for one, anyway.

[Looks over the display of prana again, the flowers, everything.]

Is there a reason for this? Whatever this is.

[fionnuisce]

[Deadpan:] Practice.

[Practicing what, he didn't say. Waver assumed Kariya would know basic healing magecraft when he saw it.]

[pinnaculum]

[This looks interesting. The symbols, the concentration, the knife... Sephiroth takes it all in at a glance. What is the man doing? He watches for a brief time before approaching and making his presence known.]

Hello. What are you doing?

[fionnuisce]

[Deep breaths and count to ten, Waver. Don't snap at the little kid for interrupting you.]

Practicing.

[pinnaculum]

What are you practicing?

[Sephiroth continues to look on with interest. If Waver is annoyed, he doesn't seem to notice, more curious than considerate at the moment, although he doesn't mean to be impolite.]

[fionnuisce]

Healing magecraft. Short of stabbing myself in the arm, plants are the easiest living thing to work on.

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[He does not only come here with his Master. Even Lancelot needs rest now and again, from Monsters and Fell Beasts and the Weight of his own Armor. This is such a time.
His Master had not required his presence, had wanted to spend time alone with his "nephew". Not that Lancelot could blame the man. And so he had come to the Meadow alone, to close his eyes under the sun.

But he is not alone. Waver Velvet is here, has obviously been here for sometime. The man is seemingly unaware of his presence now, or he is uncaring.

Sir Lancelot steps through the tall grass, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder. He seems worn around the edges somehow, his demeanor grave, but with an impression of slowness he usually lacks.
Even though he does not relish the idea of conversation, and though the man is plainly preoccupied, he cannot very well pass the Magus without speaking.]

Waver Velvet.

[fionnuisce]

Lancelot.

[File this one under 'uncaring'. If he was annoyed about anything, it was that his concentration had been broken again. Waver's tone was flat, without any trace of fear or concern.]

What brings you around here?

[chevalier_mal_fet]

[It is a pleasant thing, Waver Velvet's lack of fear. Lancelot does not always wish to reassure, to soothe. In fact, he rarely wishes to, and yet he does so with burdensome regularity.]

I sought a quiet place to rest. This Meadow seemed the most likely choice.
I often accompany my Master here.

[The Magus' actions and the disorder surrounding the man are mildly intriguing, and obviously indicative of Healing Magic. He has seen such recently, in the hands of his Master's Other.]

It seems to me an odd place to practice Healing.

[fionnuisce]

It's something that's best practiced on living things. Since I'm not too interested in stabbing myself in the arm and it seemed unwise to risk practicing on other people, plants seemed the easiest option.