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

Entry tags:

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

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

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.]

[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.

...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.]

[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?

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.

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?

They're fantastic. Really, I couldn't be happier with them. Except...I'm not all that proficient with armed combat, so you might have to teach me on that front.

[Placing thtm back in the box, he glanced over with a slight frown--as though the question hadn't actually occurred to Waver himself until now.]

Why...? I don't know. I don't really own much of particular sentimental value, so some kind of fluke? Magecraft texts could be hard to replicate? I don't know, it's anyone's guess.

Edited 2013-10-04 23:09 (UTC)

I kind of figured I would be teaching you. I'm looking forward to it actually. I'm sure you know a few things from teaching yourself, but there is always more to learn. We're going to put those ambidextrous hands of yours to work doing something other than hitting me.

[He's going to make you a duel-wielder yet, Waver.]

I suppose 'why' is something we really can't know. Though...do you have an interest in music or did you ever have it? Or was that something your parents enjoyed and you never got into?

I see what you're up to this time. So your clever and nefarious plan was to teach me something? I've no choice but to benefit from your expert lessons, in that case.

[Shrugging it off, Waver laughed to himself and spoke with little more than casual indifference. The subject matter didn't seem to bother him, for whatever reason.]

I wouldn't call it an interest so much as a passing appreciation. My father played a few different instruments, my mother met him at a concert. I think it was largely some twisted coincidence that they were both second-generation magi. I never really held much interest in learning instruments as I did with magecraft, but I did enjoy listening.

[Diarmuid laughs.]

Can you blame me for wanting someone else who duel-wields to practice with?

[He's met a couple of other duel-wielders, but right now his bias is showing.]

Did either of your parents sing? Or did they just play?

[The questions are a little tentative. While Waver seems okay so far, the last thing Diarmuid wants to do is overstep his bounds and accidentally upset him.]

Not as far as I know, they didn't. To my recollection he specialized in guitar with a couple of others on the side, and I don't believe she did either.

[Waver still didn't seem entirely bothered by the conversation. There was some distance to his voice, but nothing that suggested he was avoiding the subject.]

I...would like to learn to play an instrument someday. I sing but it's not the same as feeling the instrument sing under your hands.

[Diarmuid's fingers lightly caress the top of the case.]

So much has happened and I keep getting distracted from doing it. There are so very many instruments to choose from here. I can never decide which one I would like to try first.

[He laughs a little sadly.]

That was the excuse I used during the experiment in January when we all thought we had been here forever. I don't remember a lot of things from it anymore, but some things I will never forget. I kept putting it off because I couldn't decide and then I stopped being able to feel the music in the instruments all together.

[For a moment, Diarmuid falls silent, remembering that time and then he shakes himself free of the memories.]

Sorry... I didn't mean to drift off like that. It's your birthday. We shouldn't be focusing on the past and on sad things we cannot change. We should be looking forward.

It's alright. Sorry, but that's one thing I seriously doubt I can teach you.

[Waver laughed, though the sound came a little hesitant and shaky.]

I told you, I don't want any production made of all this. Birthday or not, I'm content with just another normal day, for whatever 'normal' means in this place. Don't act like it's anything special.

[Diarmuid laughs lightly, shaking his head at the same time.]

It's okay. There are other things we need to focus on besides music right now anyway. Perhaps once the worlds are fixed, I will find the time and then you will have to yell at me for making so much racket.

[He reaches out to take one of Waver's hands noticing the unease in his laughter.]

Maybe you are okay with not celebrating but I'm not. You're important to me and so this day is important. If you won't celebrate with me because you were born today, will you at least celebrate that this day is one more we have survived in this place together?

I brought wine and cookies. It's no feast, but...

You're just going to insist, I know. [Shaking his head, Waver gave up on the argument.] I should be grateful you kept it to something small. Particularly considering you could have easily told your brother, in which case we'd have all manner of loud and obnoxious madness here.

All things considered, a small celebration of sorts with just us is acceptable.

To be honest, and perhaps a little selfish, I would rather celebrate just the two of us. I never wanted a large party for my birthday, but you know my brother.

[Diarmuid motions for Waver to sit down again and moves the wine bottle and plate of cookies to sit on a table nearby.]

If you want to thank me for anything, thank me for not singing you Happy Birthday...yet.

I think I'll elect to skip that particular custom, thank you.

You just don't want to hear my horrid singing. I understand...

[Diarmuid gives Waver a mock hurt look and then pushes the plate of cookies at him.]

Are there any birthday customs you do want to celebrate?

I don't particularly like any of them, I'm afraid.

[he will however eat a cookie. good job, waver.]

I suppose that just means we need to find or make some you do like.

[Diarmuid takes a moment to pour Waver a glass of wine and then hands it to him.]

Sounds like fun to be honest. I like learning things about you.

What? [He couldn't really help but react with surprise to that, taking the glass a little hesitantly.]

What do you mean, 'what?'

[Diarmuid gives Waver a questioning look as he pours himself a glass.]

Does it really seem so odd that I would like learning about you?

Well...no, but I'm not all that interesting.

[Diarmuid takes a sip of his wine and then shakes his head.]

Does that mean you will call me a liar if I say I think you're fascinating?

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