[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

[fionnuisce]

All research requires some degree of obsession, Diarmuid. But you're right in that I shouldn't let it bother me quite so much, perhaps.

[oathshackledbird]

I don't know if I can agree with you on that. There is a difference between being devoted to your research and being obsessed. Obsession is negative. Surely nothing good can come from it...

Or do I just not understand? I know very little about how research works. The best I can compare it to is training people as I have in the past.

[fionnuisce]

It's difficult to explain. I'll try to keep it in moderation, if that makes you feel any better.

[oathshackledbird]

It does. Perhaps it seems strange to you, but it does.

[Diarmuid pauses for a moment to sigh before continuing.]

I suppose the feeling of obsession that strong reminds me a little too much of the blind devotion those under my curse's spell often show only the feeling is directed to something else instead of me. It's not something I ever want to feel coming from you no matter who or what it is directed at.

[fionnuisce]

It's okay, Diarmuid. I promise, I'll be a little more careful.

[oathshackledbird]

Good, in that case my worries are lowered by one.

[He grins at Waver, a mischievous glint suddenly filling his eyes.]

Now, if we don't stop talking and go get you some food, I swear, master or no, I am picking you up and carrying you to my room! And let anyone who sees us think what they will.

[Not that anyone probably would see them with Diarmuid's speed, but he can't help but tease Waver a little.]

[fionnuisce]

Wh--okay, okay, don't do anything drastic!

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid drops an arm around Waver's shoulder's leaning over to whisper in the man's ear.]

Now would I do anything drastic to you?

[fionnuisce]

You bloody well might and we both know it.

[oathshackledbird]

You are absolutely right.

[And with no other warning, Diarmuid's arm tightens around Waver's shoulders, scooping the man into his arms and taking off in a blur of speed toward his room.]

[fionnuisce]

Wh--hey! What are you doing?!

[oathshackledbird]

Carrying you.

[Way to be helpful there, Diarmuid.]

[fionnuisce]

Yes, I see that, but why?!

[oathshackledbird]

Because it's faster this way?

[fionnuisce]

F...fine, but you could warn me next time.

Freudian Icon Slip there? As much as he complains... :-P

[oathshackledbird]

What fun would that be?

[Moments later, they will arrive at the room. Diarmuid opens the door, enters, and the closes it behind them before finally setting Waver on his feet.]

We have arrived. Sometimes it's nice to have a Lancer as a servant...

whoooooooops :B

[fionnuisce]

It's a little more often than 'sometimes', I think.

[oathshackledbird]

If you say so.

[Diarmuid flashes him a gentle smile before walking over to his bed to gather some of the leftover food from his trunk. Oddly enough, as he does, he keeps as far as he can from the left side of the end of the bed.

That would be where he died when Mami decapitated him.

After a few moments, he stands and holds out some cloth to Waver. On it are several pieces of dried meat and some berries. One of those berries is a very special one not grown in the tower, but slipped out of a small pouch hidden in the corner of his trunk.

A berry from The Fairy Tree of Dooros. Diarmuid has no idea if the berry still has any of its magical properties, but he wants to share it with his friend anyway. It's like sharing a very special part of his past with him.

Even if Waver doesn't know.]

[fionnuisce]

Thanks, Diarmuid. I really mean it--I'd be pretty screwed over without you looking out for me.

[Of course Waver didn't have the faintest idea at first. He'd read the mythology enough to know it offhand, but recognizing things like that on sight was another thing entirely. Noticing something different, on the other hand, was fairly simple. It wasn't anything he'd seen in the tower--or anywhere, really--and it seemed markedly different from the others he'd been handed.]

...What's this one called?

[oathshackledbird]

[So much for him not noticing. Though, giving the berry a closer look, Diarmuid does realize just how different is looks from the others he had gathered.]

Ah...that one. It wasn't grown here in the tower. It was one of the things in my trunk.

[He pauses a moment to reach back into the trunk and pulls out a small leather pouch which he holds out to Waver.]

This pouch holds a small number of quicken-tree berries, specifically from the Fairy Tree of Dooros. I wished to give one to you as a way to share an important part of my past. I have no idea if their magical abilities remain, but that is not the point. It is the sentiment.

[Diarmuid blushes lightly.]

It is a silly thing. It is why I wasn't going to say anything unless you asked.

[fionnuisce]

...You're kidding.

[Utterly unable to think of how else to react, Waver opted for 'startled astonishment'.]

You really wanted to give something like that to me?

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid laughs gently at Waver's reaction.]

Of course, I do. If I did not, they would still be hidden in the corner of my trunk. I haven't known exactly what to do with them until now--who I should share them with. You are the first with whom it has felt right.

[He looks a little embarrassed suddenly and runs his empty hand through his hair.]

Even if its magic is gone, hopefully it will still taste as sweet as I remember.

[fionnuisce]

Diarmuid, I-...I really don't have anything to say. Thank you. I'm really, honestly, completely flattered.

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid laughs gently again.]

You're welcome. You mean a great deal to me. Like I said, it just seems right somehow. Now please, come sit and eat. We can talk more while you are eating.

[He motions Waver toward the bed and then returns the pouch to his trunk and shuts it.]

[fionnuisce]

If you say so.

[Waver took a seat, pleasantly surprised by how good this was; years of not being able to cook apparently left him with insanely low standards.]