[dated 10/3] // don't stop me now

[fionnuisce]

Characters: Waver and open
Setting: dorm floors, floor 3, closed prompt on floor 4
Format: Either
Summary: Birthday? What birthday? Waver doesn't know what you're talking about.
Warnings: None yet.

[dormitory floors]

[Birthdays weren't of any particular importance to Waver Velvet. He noted his age like any other normal person, but thought little of it. October third was just a day, same as the second or the fourth. There was no point in calling attention to it or informing people who would in turn make the entire thing some elaborate production.]

[Even though the date was of no consequence to him, the magus had to wonder if the timing of the new item appearing in his trunk was more than mere coincidence. It was simple in appearance, just a metal case small enough to just barely fit in one's hand. The more he looked at it, the more Waver noticed it seemed just faintly charred in places. Whatever it was and whatever the reason it looked damaged in that way, Waver wasn't too pleased about it. He slipped the case into his coat pocket, walking out of his dormitory room and going to walk the halls aimlessly with a clear scowl on his face. Maybe if he wandered the Tower for long enough, he'd forget what kind of miserable day this was shaping up to be.]

[floor 3]

[When someone like Waver was in a particularly unpleasant mood, the coping mechanism was usually the same; head to the library with a cup of tea and occupy oneself with a collection of books. A small amount of various fiction was piled neatly on the table Waver had claimed today; seeming to be mostly leaning towards classical fiction. What he focused on specifically seemed to be a copy of the Iliad; Waver remembered his alternate self mentioning some odd fondness for it. There had been an odd sense of something like nostalgia when that particular text caught his eye, and so he'd decided 'why the hell not'.]

[While he seemed in less miserable spirits than he was upon leaving his room earlier, it was anyone's guess whether he'd stay that way if interrupted. Try your luck?]

[floor 4; closed to oathshackledbird]

[It had occurred to Waver several hundred times already that he probably should have been working. There was a lot to do back in the laboratory, but at the same time he doubted anyone, himself included, would be in a condition to do much at all after the recent unpleasantness. One day of being a useless mess likely wouldn't cause catastrophe.]

[Eventually he found his way to a relatively isolated corner of the lounge floor, taking a small notebook and pen from his pocket. It was far too long since he'd had any time to update the mess of theories he'd had about the Tower, and most of it was vastly outdated. If he wasn't going to work on anything else, that at least seemed like a reasonable way to waste time.]

Comments

Floor 4 [Closed]

[oathshackledbird]

[It's hard to say how long Waver might have been working on his notes for when Diarmuid finds him on the 4th floor. He's been looking for his friend for a while, hoping to catch him someplace quiet for a little birthday celebration. He knows Waver would have a fit if he threw him a party like the one Cu Chulainn had thrown for him, but that doesn't mean Diarmuid is going to let the day pass completely uncelebrated.

He quietly crosses the room to where Waver is sitting, though if Waver is listening hard enough he might notice that the sound of Diarmuid's approach is slightly different than usual. That is because, when Diarmuid had gone into his trunk to get the cookies and bottle of wine he had been storing in there for the celebration, he had found something he had not been expecting to find.

A cloak. But not any cloak. His father's cloak, given to him as a wedding gift. Diarmuid knows, of course, that the cloak is only a copy made of film, but it is a copy that smells like his father's home, carries the same sky blue iridescent shimmer he remembers, and closes with the same silver feather clasp that Diarmuid pricked his finger on more than once as a child.

It might not be real, the the memories it invokes are real and that is enough to make Diarmuid want to have it with him. That is why he is wearing it now even though he really doesn't need to.

Diarmuid crouches down in front of Waver and sets a wooden box down on top of the notebook Waver is working on.]

It's your birthday. Work can wait.

[fionnuisce]

[Waver glanced up at the sound of his friend's approach, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion; what on earth was he wearing? And just what on earth did he think he was doing?]

I certainly hope you're not wearing that solely on my account. If so I worry you have far too much of a flair for the dramatic.

[Although Waver couldn't say he was necessarily surprised Diarmuid had apparently gotten him something, he hadn't fully expected it either.]

...What is it?

[oathshackledbird]

If you want to blame anyone for my so called 'flare for the dramatic,' blame my father. Doubly since this is his cloak...err a copy of his cloak since the things they give us are just film, but...

[Diarmuid reaches down to grab an edge of the cloak, running his fingers over the material.]

It smells like home. Even after all the years it hung in my homestead after he gave it to me, it still smells like home.

[A distant look enters his eyes for a few moments before Diarmuid shakes it off and forces himself to focus on the present. He lets go of the cloak edge and places his hand on the top of the box.]

I worry about you the most when our powers aren't working because then all you have to fight with are your hands and we both know that is not your strong suit. This isn't a lot, but they are something that will protect you even when our powers are shut off.

[Diarmuid lifts the top of the box to reveal a matched set of daggers.]

I have been collecting weapons from monsters for a while now. They are real and as such so are the weapons they carry. Much like our research materials, these will need to be hidden so that the units cannot replace them with ones made out of film.

Hopefully, they will protect you when I am not there to do so and your powers aren't either.

[fionnuisce]

Diarmuid... You didn't...have to... [Waver seemed to be struck mostly speechless for a moment. It wasn't often he received something from someone that wasn't an empty-headed teenage admirer, and he was genuinely touched by the sentiment regardless of the date.]

I-I can't just--I can't accept something without giving you anything in return! It's not...it's not equivalent, so it wouldn't be right. [Flustered but genuinely insistent, Waver stood up with a stubborn frown settling in on his face.]

[The problem was that he didn't actually have anything. Certainly nothing as well thought-out as this.]

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid smiles gently, standing as well and carefully closing the box.]

Waver, you don't have to give me anything. It's your birthday, after all. You are suppose to give people things on their birthday, not take things from them. Besides, you give me things everyday just by being here and being you. I don't need anything else.

[He holds the box out to Waver again.]

Please, take it. I want you to have them.

[fionnuisce]

...thank you. [Waver sighed, taking the box with a hesitant but grateful smile.] This really does mean a lot, and I do appreciate it more than I can accurately say. Even so, just humor me for today.

[His free hand went to his coat pocket, producing the small and slightly charred metal case that had been in his trunk that morning.]

Don't turn it down and don't interrogate me about why I'm giving it to you. Believe me, the gesture's worth more than whatever sentimental value I have left for it.

[Waver hadn't opened the case all day--he knew what was in it, in some distant old memories he'd largely forgotten. The silver metallic case had belonged to his father; a musician rather than a committed magus, he had kept a few scratched or broken guitar picks in it.]

[But that was a long time ago. And as Waver had said, it held very little sentimental value to him now. There was a vague sense of nostalgia that came with it, but nothing else.]

[oathshackledbird]

[Diarmuid takes the case and looks at it curiously, taking in the charred exterior before finally opening it. It takes him a moment to identify what is inside, and he can only do so in the end because of the information given to him by the Grail.]

Guitar picks? Do you play? No...

[There is a moment's pause as Diarmuid corrects himself.]

One of your parents, right? The case is charred from the fire...

[His gaze lingers on the contents of the case for a moment before he closes it. If Waver really wants him to take this in exchange for the knives, Diarmuid will not argue with him. He is just grateful that Waver is accepting the gift so easily after his first reaction.

Still, he has to ask a few questions despite Waver's request not to.]

Are you sure? How did you get them? Did you find them in your trunk today as I found my father's cloak? Do you think this is this Riki's way of apologizing for what happened?

[fionnuisce]

They were my father's. [Despite what he'd said, Waver didn't complain about the questions. He took a seat again and examined the daggers as he spoke, testing their weight and balance. They were longer and heavier than his own knife, but that didn't really seem like a detriment.]

And I would assume as much, yes. It wouldn't surprise me if everyone got one thing or another.

[oathshackledbird]

Will they be all right? It took me a while to find a pair that would work without much modification, since we don't know what trying to change a real weapon with 'fake' tools and materials will do to it. I didn't want to risk them losing the advantages that come from being real. Unfortunately, a lot of the Tower's humanoid monsters are larger than a normal human...

[Diarmuid falls silent, his eyes dropping to the case in his hand. He has so many questions he wants to ask Waver about his parents, but it's such a touchy subject. None of the times they have talked about them before have gone very far because of that, and Waver even gets uncomfortable when Diarmuid talks about his own parents. Still, the curiosity lingers.]

Why do you think Riki picked this to return to you of all things?

Dorms - is first floor okay?

[bashfulshifter]

[And who might that familiar scent belong to, approaching from the stairs at the far end of the hall...?]

[Rusty the cat sees Waver at the other end and stares at him intently, a little too preoccupied with rubbing himself against the hard corner of a door to really comprehend who he is, or that he should be extremely happy to see him. For the moment he waits for Waver to make the first move.]

no it has cooties :V

[fionnuisce]

[There was a cat staring at him.]

[But then again, he'd recently had an intelligent conversation with a telepathic red-tailed hawk. So it was safe to say Waver expected just about anything by now.]

...Can I help you?

no you

[bashfulshifter]

[Absolutely! As soon as Waver speaks in a tone that isn't outwardly violent, Rusty's tail goes vertical and he approaches with a happy meow and a bounce in his step. Somewhere down the hall, this transitions quite abruptly to a pajama-clad blonde man walking casually with a warm grin.]

W-Waver! [His cheeks flush light pink.] I-I, ah, d-didn't e-expect to see y-you a-a-around here!

rude >:V

[fionnuisce]

What the fuck.

[oh right. shapeshifter. Pardon him while he recovers.]

I mean, er...I was just walking around, that's all.

<3

[bashfulshifter]

[Oops, maybe should have given Waver more warning before shifting back. Rick's blush encroaches ever further over his face and he gives a nervous laugh.]

Ah...a-alright. S-Sorry, I d-d-didn't m-mean to...I'm not b-bothering you, am I?

[fionnuisce]

No, you aren't. [He shrugged, hands in his pockets.]

I really didn't have anything important to do.

[bashfulshifter]

...You don't?

[Rick blinks in surprise. For someone that appears as motive-driven as Waver--someone that routinely worked many hours too long in the laboratory despite the nagging of many of his teammates--the statement seems rather odd.]

...Are you f-f-feeling o-okay?

[fionnuisce]

...

[Actually, he raised a good point. Waver was entirely aware he should have been in the laboratory working himself to death. But on this day he was just...tired. Drained physically and mentally in ways he couldn't begin to explain, not that he wanted to let on at all.]

Of course I am. [His left hand curled around the small metal case in his jacket pocket absentmindedly, thinking about it even on some subconscious level.]

dormitories

[marriedthebloke]

[Waver isn't the only one feeling miserable on this day. Sola-ui isn't feeling very happy either.]

[It was Waver's birthday. Or rather, it would be her daughter's birthday if her world still existed. As a result, she's rather gloomy and distracted today.]

[So, of course, she doesn't notice the man stomping down the hallways and bumps straight into him.]

[fionnuisce]

Oh--sorry about that. [Waver put out a hand to stop her from falling, looking merely annoyed rather than outright angry by now.] I need to watch where the hell I'm going.

[marriedthebloke]

N-no...It's alright.

[She shrinks away. Who worse to meet on this day than that other Waver?]

...I was the one who was distracted. I'm sorry.

[fionnuisce]

Forget it, it's fine. More importantly, are you feeling alright?

[He may have been distinctly uncomfortable when it came to dealing with Sola and all the bizarre implications her family came with, but she seemed harmless enough.]

You don't look well.

[marriedthebloke]

I...I'm fine. I just remembered something.

[fionnuisce]

I can take a pretty good guess as to what you're being cryptic about, you realize.

...'My condolences' is probably the right thing to say here, isn't it?

[marriedthebloke]

...You can?

[She looks surprised one second...and then embarrassed that she had been surprised a second later.]

That's right...you're Waver. A Waver, at least.

[fionnuisce]

Of all possible discrepancies, a simple date doesn't seem like something that would really stay constant through universes. Even so, it doesn't take a genius to add two and two.