IC INBOX for The Last Voyages

[magician_king]

You know what to do.

Comments

[credere]

I don't know!

I don't know anything -

[There's a crackle on the line, like electrical interference, and labored breathing.]

[magician_king]

I'm here.

[He says, softly and keeps the line open.]

I won't come over unless you say I can, but I'm here.

[credere]

[Credence makes a quiet, shuddery noise and then clears his throat.]

I'm sorry I bothered you.

[magician_king]

You didn't bother me. You're my friend!

[credere]

But I have these - these dumb ideas I d-don't think about. I don't know what I want or what I need.

I've been here for a year and I still don't know anything.

Maybe he was right about me.

[magician_king]

I've been here three years and I know way fucking less.

[He promises, collapsing back onto his bed, with a soft sigh.]

We're going to get you there. To being a- whatever. And I'm serious, if you think tonight is a night where we should do it, we can do it. I'm- prepared to trust you with it. Now that I know you. And you know how serious it is.

[credere]

No. No thank you.

I....don't think we should talk about it again.

[magician_king]

Sorry.

[He says; rarely is it him who loses his composure, but tonight, he can't keep it up. His voice tears on the word.]

[credere]

No. It's not your fault. Please.

[His voice is cracking too, getting small and desperate.]

I didn't want to upset you.

[magician_king]

You didn't. [Not particularly convincing.] Just.

This is just all my fault, and I- I'm really sorry. I'll just- be around, I guess, if you want- help, or magic, or anything, or company. When you want.

[credere]

It's not your fault-! You were trying to help. You did help. And you're helping now, I didn't think about what might happen if I...

Please. I know I'm a bad friend, I don't want to be, I'm trying. Please.

[magician_king]

Me too.

[He admits, shaky, but determined.]

You're not a bad friend. You've never been a bad friend. This is my fault, and you've been generous enough to try to protect me from that.

[credere]

I just...

I just wanted to not be me. For a while. Without hurting anybody. And I wanted - to choose.

[magician_king]

I guess it's important to have outlets for your stress, but equally important to not hate yourself.

I want you to have that control, I want you to have that freedom to express yourself, explore, be powerful and wild- but I don't like the idea of you feeling like being Credence Barebone is a terrible thing. Because he's my best friend- and I'll stick up for him against you if I've got to.

And, aside from all that- you do have to be careful, because I didn't make that up about the bloody snaps. But maybe there's a way to do it with the Admiral's power cap. Like, you can only turn in the Enclosure or something.

[credere]

[Which means he's relying on someone to let him through the door. Which means it isn't his choice. So in his head there's no difference between that and relying on Quentin.]

This is all just because of the flood. Tomorrow I might - this might all have gone away.

[magician_king]

What's-

[He doesn't see it. Which is a shame, because he'd have a solution for that. But.]

I guess it might. But don't just pretend it has because it's easier to ignore your own needs.

[credere]

I won't.

[Yeah, you will, buddy.]

I mean. I don't even know what I need.

[magician_king]

That's self-awareness.

I guess the only thing to do is to think about it, and tell by what thought brings you pain, what's needed. What's best.

[credere]

But how can I ever know I'm right? I thought it would maybe help if I - but you're right, it's too dangerous, it'll just make things worse.

[magician_king]

What were you going to say? Maybe we can mitigate the danger.

[credere]

I just...if it's the Enclosure, or if it's your magic, then...I'm still relying on somebody else, to - to give me permission,

[magician_king]

...hang on. Wait there a second.

[He's up and running.]

[credere]

What - ?

[Well, he's too sad and confused to move.]

[magician_king]

[Before too long, it comes. A poker chip, tucked under the door.

It didn't belong to Quentin to begin with. It might as well go where it can do some good.

[credere]

Needless to say, this doesn't get to be a silent drop - Credence scoops it up, stares for one uncomprehending moment, then opens the door.

"Quentin-?"

Goldstein is still cradled against his body with his other arm.