maskormenace | isaz | text&voice&video ✺ i swear, it's not like i meant to give anybody the cold shoulder.

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isaz | text&voice&video ✺ i swear, it's not like i meant to give anybody the cold shoulder.

[in three consecutive posts: a text post (if you could call it that)]

ffffffffffffflllllfllfllffflf;f;f;;;;;f;f;;;f;lflfflflflwafflefrieswafflefries
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es wafflefries wafflefries

[a voice post (if you could call it that), in a familiar voice]

Idunn,idunn,,idunn,idunn -- [clackclackclack; caw, caw!] waff-awwwfuhhhh -- ckkk -- [clackclackclack]

[and then finally, a video post; (allegedly) "Magnus" "Chase," sitting mutely on a grey, drizzly beach in what is likely Heropa, covered in seagulls from head to toe. thing is, he doesn't look like much of a summer demigod, currently, skin pale and lips tinted a winter-blue, long blond hair frozen by a sheet of white ice down into his face. a raggedy tartan blanket coated with another sheet of ice sits only half-wrapped around his shoulders -- on each of which two fat seagulls are perched, cawing enthusiastically. the clacking noise from before appears to be coming from his teeth, and wide grey eyes appear to be trying to communicate what a chattering mouth or quivering fingers can't quite manage (though it might very well be that Magnus wants to eat waffle fries). that message might read, "anybody wanna help a brother out?" or simply the R-rated version of "Oh Bother." he manages a few grunts at the video, and a completely illegible attempt at ASL, before giving up on further communication]

[in contrast to the frozen winter zombie, a glowing golden sword is whizzing freely about in the air autonomously behind Magnus, chasing after the enormous flock of gulls, in what appears to be quite a lot of fun. whee!]

[what's with this incoherent whitewalker? this is the worst doppelganger yet!]

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[Jack swats non-lethally at a few seagulls -- through some feathers are being very, very finely sliced now and again -- and then zips back to the screen]

That's cool! Did you figure out where we are?

Nn-n-nn, nee-aruh, th-th-th --

[Magnus' attempts at communication are foiled by gulls cawing. it's staring to get ridiculous. why are there so many of them? a few are just gently sitting on his lap now, like he's an enormous frozen egg ( -- wait?)]

Don't sweat it, Rain Man. It won't take me long to find you.

[As Ronan won't be bringing his body along. He salutes the camera and there's a blinding flash of light just before the feed switches off.

About three seconds later, that ball of light comes barreling at the seagulls like a meteor falling out of the sky. Of course, nothing solid collides with them, but the shock is enough to send them scattering.]

[Magnus is more startled than he should be, maybe; he supposes he never thought about how easy it would be to find someone, if you could be spread out like a net over huge spaces. he wonders how widely Ronan can cast himself, imagines that must be the most freeing feeling]

[the seagulls scatter, except for one very fat, brave one in his lap, which burrows harder against his stomach and makes a few annoyed sounds. Magnus idly shifts his shivering arms around the bird instead of around himself]

C-c-carefuh, fuhl -- Juh-j-j-Ja-aack --

Don't worry about it! Hey again, Ronan!

[Jack quits his wild slashing and swinging, not wanting to accidentally slice any sparkly bits in two. Jack is an absurdly sharp weapon that belongs to an absurdly bad fighter. Magnus recalls Ronan doesn't need to talk in this form, though he isn't taking advantage of it, considering the thought I'M FUCKING COLD is broadcasting pretty noisily in his brain at the moment]

[The light gives a little shimmer in greeting, somehow much more friendly than human-Ronan ever looks despite the total lack of expressive features. All that slashing concerns him far less than it does Magnus. He's intangible in this form.

Except for the warmth he emits, of course.

The light spreads and stretches, then falls like a blanket of stardust onto Magnus's form. If it's not too fucking freaky for you, he tells Magnus, I can warm you from inside, too.]

[you're so fucking creepy, Magnus thinks, but it's with a wealth of relief and easy affection that can't be hidden, when they're talking like this. the stardust blanket is helping curb the effects of drizzly rain, which has been steadily hardening the ice in his clothes and hair, keeping his skin from retrieving its colour. Ronan's also already bringing some warmth to him that he was starting to feel would be a foreign sensation for the rest of his afterlife. okay, Magnus thinks. he needs the warmth, which is obvious; he trusts Ronan, is more notable]

[Ronan does not deny he is creepy. Though honestly, considering no human sacrifices have been made and he hasn't taken possession of anyone's hands or eyes today, this is all rather tame on the scale of Greywaren Creepiness.

Some of the shimmery fairy dust disappears beneath Magnus's skin, and then Magnus himself begins to glow with Ronan's luminescence. It feels a little like sunlight, but also like a fever, because it's coming from within, not without. It's not unpleasant, though. More comforting, like a warm hug.]

[in response, Magnus curls up more on the damp sand, letting Ronan's warmth wash through him with no small amount of relief. it's not like how his powers feel, not all golden and airy and easy, like breathing; it's other and substantial, like he's just rapidly gulped down some hot chocolate, or fallen into someone's arms (not that that's an all-that-familiar sensation)]

[I'm a melting fucksicle, he thinks, and chatters a laugh out loud. he feels a lot better, already -- not that he wants Ronan to scatter away. the seagull in Magnus lap coos, apparently also enjoying the warmth. it's nice. you're nice. the sentiments bleed together in Magnus' mind, and for the first time since getting ported back in, he feels a little less disconcerted. he doesn't know how much time has passed or who's around anymore, but his best friend is here, and that's a start. you did this last time with pizza, Magnus thinks abruptly, feeling happy]

Edited 2018-04-15 12:22 (UTC)

[Ronan won't be leaving, not until someone with an actual body shows up to get Magnus somewhere dry. He settles in, feeling quite comfortable himself, though the astral experience is considerably different from the physical. It's the familiar energy that's latent inside Magnus which has Ronan feeling so content. Their wavelengths play together like music in harmony.

You're such a goddamn sap, Ronan responds, but the words aren't the only response, because the whole of his consciousness is there. Ronan has missed Magnus terribly, even though it hasn't - it hasn't, Ronan confirms - been very long since he left. It's an enormous relief to find him again, even if he is a fucksicle.

What the hell happened to you, anyway?]

[their relief and familiar comfort in one another overlaps, enough that Magnus hardly feels the cold and the drizzle over that internal sense of belonging. and Magnus isn't the type to promise things outside of his control, really. but his own consciousness reacts to Ronan's, swelling in care and insistence of his return as Ronan's own dips in acknowledgement of his loss. their friendship is like two differently coloured jigsaw pieces fitting together; in what exists beyond the physical, they're shaped to eachother]

[more consciously, Magnus smiles at the teasing, worry easing that he hasn't been away too long for things to have massively changed -- so much is happening back home, and maybe it's ironic, but this transient universe has always been more stable, to him]

[I got ported out and went back to business as usual. that's not true; and there's no hiding how not true it is, with Ronan sitting shotgun inside him. there's a swell of anxiety; impossible tasks, near-death experiences. the pain of his friends, other einherjar, Hearth and Blitz, hurting over deaths and abuses and betrayals. the uncertainty of interacting with his divine family, however benevolent. a looming challenge at the ends of the nine worlds too fucking huge to even been communicated in thought, for the moment, a messy tangle of preemptive feelings of failure and panic and responsibility. dragon's blood and the mead of the gods. visions, visions, every night, horrible and revealing. alex, at the edges of it all, fluid, maddening and out of his reach. I started the quest I told you about. But it isn't over yet. We were headed to Niflheim. It's fucking cold there. cold enough that even his temperate body could hardly handle it; another swell of worry in him, about whether or not they'll make it through the frozen wastes. hardy demigods or not, they were dying of hypothermia, on their way to Skadi's. Magnus was ported out of that, is still shaking those feelings off, even though he can remember just as clearly and just as nearly simple days with Ronan at the Meadows]

Edited 2018-04-15 13:30 (UTC)

[In contrast and response to all of these anxieties, Ronan remains calm. He's always had a unique way of reacting in a precisely opposite manner to the reactions of others', which often makes him a chaotic and destabilizing force when people are trying to settle down. But in cases like this, when everything feels uncertain, it's time for Ronan's serenity to shine. He has no doubt that Magnus will make it through the frozen wastes. There's no way that his quest ends in anything but success. Ronan can't promise these things, of course, but he believes them.

And for now, it's all okay. Magnus isn't alone and Ronan is here to warm him, with others on their way. It sure is taking a while, though. Ronan wishes he could have made it here half as fast with his body and his car. Should I tell Gansey to bring you back to the Meadows? Ronan asks, already trying to figure out whether he can make contact without leaving Magnus and depriving him of warmth. This would be easier, he thinks, if he had a ley line to travel along.]

[Ronan's certainty drips into him, his certainty filling the pockets of empty-feeling doubt in Magnus with solid belief; Magnus curls his arms tighter around himself, like he could hold Ronan's confidence in him closer. if he's ever anything worth -- anything, it's because of moments like these, he thinks, where his friends think he is something after all]

[the mention of Gansey helps center him, too. his feelings about Gansey lie easily on the surface of his mind and heart, at the evocation of his name; Gansey is a close friend, loyal and dependable. Gansey is too kind, always at the expense of himself. Gansey is a safe feeling, like Ronan, to Magnus. Magnus doesn't want to take advantage of that kindness, nor make Gansey anxious. I'll be able to walk soon, is what he thinks a little vaguely, uncertain about forcing Gansey into any role]

[Not soon enough, Ronan thinks. He's too weak on his own here. He's not enough for Magnus, this tiny spark of light. Meanwhile, Gansey is Gansey. Gansey, who wants nothing more than to be exactly what Magnus believes him to be: a safe place for everyone. It's his purpose. I'll be right back.

Ronan blinks out.

He blinks back in.

Gansey's on his way.

A second was all it took to find Gansey and share the knowledge of the entire situation: what was happening, where to find them, what to do. Gansey will be right behind him.]

[Ronan doesn’t even have to make any requests. As soon as he has the location, Gansey is stepping through a portal and he’s kneeling on one knee next to Magnus. Gansey wraps his arms around Magnus’s shoulders both for warmth, and in order to drag him through a portal that Gansey creates—right into the Meadows. He trusts Ronan will follow, as will Jack.

They’re in one of the many lounging areas around the main house, a large couch with multiple pillows and blankets. His brows are furrowed as he makes sure a blanket is laid across Magnus’s lap while grabbing a particularly fluffy throw blanket to put around Magnus’s shoulders and wrap him in it.

Finally he sits back.]

I’ll save inquiries for later.

[There’s a vague smile on his face, hiding the fact that he’s terrified he may have to find a healer for the healer.]

[a few embarrassing thoughts flit across his mind, as Ronan settles back into him, as Gansey appears out of nowhere, stepping out of a portal like he's some kind of handsome sci-fi hero on the cover of a paperback. (yeah, that one definitely flickers across, as well as a rash of gratefulness for his friends from the Meadows --- Ronan, Gansey, Noah -- he was so, so lucky they liked him, even if he can't feel his toes). Jack melts back into the fehu rune around Magnus' neck, and as he does, Magnus finds himself slumping into Gansey's arms in exhaustion, as Jack's expended energy becomes his own]

[a few blinks later, and he's wrapped not in Gansey's arms, but a pile of fluff that reminds him of Valhalla, like someone's just moments ago skinned it right off a big fuzzy animal. the couch is a lot nicer to sit on, than the wet sand, and he's so pleased about the change of venue he forgets to be embarrassed about Gansey's fussing. between the warm house, the blankets, Ronan, and the possibly literal glow Magnus feels inside around his friends, it's become a bit easier to talk (even if his lips are still alarmingly blue)]

I app-appreciate it. [Magnus gives a less vague smile at Gansey, grey eyes earnest] Th-thanks Ricardo.

[he curls the throw blanket around his shoulders more, still feeling he should add]

S-sorry. I r-really would h-have been f-fine in a few hours-s. I d-don't think I can g-get hypothermmmia. [a dumb, humourous pause here] Pr-probably?

[He rolls his eyes fondly at the nickname. The only reason Gansey doesn’t pester Magnus about it is because of the situation they’re in. Not to mention, it’s Magnus. If it was any of the Raven boys, he would have put a stop to it instantly.]

A few hours is plenty of time to die from hypothermia, even if you’re not in the same amount of cold you were in before getting back here. Not to mention, powers or not, we’re not going to take any chances.

Now: tea, hot chocolate or coffee? [You gotta start warming on the inside too, Mags.]

[the Serious Lecture TM only makes his lips curve into more of a smile. it might look a bit goofy, if he didn't have the appearance of a drowned, half-frozen, Swedish rat. somehow getting looked after -- something which hasn't felt right, still doesn't feel right (a gap, in his memory) -- nevertheless makes him feel at home (whatever that is)]

Ch-chocolate.

[Magnus will always go for chocolate, given the opportunity; he exhales, letting the warmth of the blankets seep into his bones. the chill of Niflheim seems to cling inside him, something worse than hypothermia, but he's endured worse things than a cold he's having trouble shaking. it won't give him too much more trouble, he thinks, with Ronan and Gansey on the case]

Are you g-gonna read me a st-story, too?

Only if you ask nicely, [he says over his shoulder as he goes into the kitchen the next room over. He takes a couple minutes to make the hot chocolate and ensure it's warm, not hot. He doesn't want to accidentally burn Magnus. He brings out a mug and proffers it to Magnus.]

Warming from the inside out is faster.

[Ronan, who had blinked out as soon as Magnus was settled on the couch, now comes stomping down the hall in his human body. Certain that Magnus would not have preferred him to appear fully nude, it had taken Ronan a couple minutes to get dressed upstairs.]

Where's my hot chocolate?

[He throws himself onto the couch and settles up against Magnus, who does not get to complain about snuggling whilst recovering from hypothermia.]

Edited 2018-05-18 20:51 (UTC)

[hands wrapping around the mug, it's hard to say if he lit up more at the arrival of chocolate or the arrival of his best human-shaped friend -- because his face is still kind of blue-tinged, mostly. he smiles gratefully at Gansey, murmuring a thanks, but offers the mug out to Ronan instead of sipping it]

Y-you d-did earn it...

[the stupid snuggling is more welcome than anyone might expect of him, or that he'd like to admit -- and not just for hypothermia purposes. the weird doubling of his afterlife (knowing he was on a quest just hours ago, also knowing he was in this universe just hours ago) is disconcerting. it feels like a lifeline to a stable reality, to have the familiar bulk of Ronan butting impudently up against him, just like it'd felt when Gansey gave him a lecture and some Virginian sass]

Don't drink th-the whole th-thing, though.

I didn't ask for yours.

[Ronan immediately redirects the mug back to Magnus, guiding it to his mouth so that he can promptly begin drinking it. Does he not realize this is an emergency situation? Ronan will help him.]

No, he enjoys having me fetch things for him. [he gives Ronan a Look but there’s no hiding the smirk behind it.]

You’re putting your own booze into it if you so choose. [He disappears for a couple minutes to grab Ronan not only a mug of hot chocolate, but a bottle of whiskey and holds out both to Ronan.]

Leave him to drink his hot chocolate, you can cuddle after, [he teases.]

[with Ronan's """help,""" Magnus sputters, and then takes a long drink of his hot chocolate, not coming back up for air until it's 2/3rds drained. Gansey needn't have worried; Magnus can stand in flame and snow alike without getting burned or frozen. it's only the absolutely inhuman temperatures of Niflheim that have affected him this much -- though, those temperatures are rapidly becoming a thing of the past, as he thaws out under blankets, hot chocolate, and Ronan]

[ -- and embarrassing comments provided by one Richard Gansey III. not wanting to move away (or for Ronan to move, frankly) he chooses to serve the sass back at him]

J-just because you're as f-ffriendly as a golden retriever d-doesn't mean you had to f-fetch it...

[he finishes the hot chocolate. even half-frozen, Magnus' ability to put away food and drinks shouldn't be underestimated. he half-eyes Ronan's own warm mug, before looking at Gansey again, more shyly]

But I don't think I c-can blame him. I'm f-forgetting why I m-moved out.

Oh!

[Ronan takes the bottle of whiskey and passes the fresh mug of hot chocolate along to Magnus. He sees the way Magnus is eyeing it. He'll make do with the liquor.]

Why did you move out? We have such a strapping butler.

[Gansey moves to sit on the thickly carpeted floor in front of Magnus and Ronan but not before a light punch in Ronan's arm.]

Remind me of this conversation the next time I offer to do something nice for you.

[of course he's also hoping Ronan and Magnus don't notice the tips of his ears turning red.]

I have to agree with you, he did earn it for finding you and staving off freezing to death a little bit longer.

[another time, Magnus might feel shame from being so obviously invested in someone else's food/beverage, but this isn't that time. he gratefully sips this next cup more slowly, savouring the chocolate instead of just the heat. aaaaaa.]

[the response from Gansey is one that's funny -- shouldn't he have said something like, "see if I do anything nice for you again!" but it's like Gansey can't bear to even joke about not being helpful to his friends. Magnus thinks the words "strapping butler" might be very accurate, but does not linger over the mental image. he drinks more of his hot chocolate, looking more comfortable by the minute, listening to Gansey and Ronan cheerfully bicker (or what passes for it, anyway -- really, Gansey). he wants to wave off the latent concern, but that would mean not holding the warm cup just outside of his warm blanket]

I told R-ronan, I would'a been f-fine in a couple hours... I'm just cold from Niflheim. A soggy beach in Fl-Florida wasn't gonna k-kill me. I u-used to sleep in the snow, in Boston.

[he also used to sleep on this very couch, when he first arrived in this universe. time moves so fast -- it's a nice, nostalgic memory, to be back on it, but also so much closer to the house's occupants. Magnus is glad Ronan isn't reading his mind anymore]

Who kn-knew private school boys w-were s-such worrywarts.

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