IC INBOX for The Last Voyages

[magician_king]

You know what to do.

Comments

[biocomposer]

Quentin.

[Deep breath. Articulate concern.]

How are you?

[magician_king]

Hi Elijah. I'm not very well, honestly. Someone blew out all the light bulbs for some god damned reason, and-

[Deep breath.]

What can I help you with?

[biocomposer]

That's - not why I'm contacting you. Given the recent events involving Jedao...

I'm aware that it's not my business, but I'm - concerned.

[magician_king]

Jedao's going to be all right. He's making the rounds apologizing, it sounds like. He's definitely no further risk.

[biocomposer]

I don't actually care about him. How are you, Quentin?

[magician_king]

You're still really hit or miss with the empathy thing, but I'm going to take this as a nice thing for you to be doing over all.

I could use someone to come steady the ladder I'm working on?

[biocomposer]

I'm selective with the empathy thing. It's a finite resource that I don't always expend profitably. Where can I find you?

[magician_king]

Third floor hall, near the aft stairwell.

Can't miss the ladder and lightbulb crate.

[biocomposer]

Elijah arrives just a few minutes later, approaching the aforementioned ladder.

"It's difficult to think that anyone imagined this would last. But then, I don't suppose permanence informs many decisions here."

Which could be an oblique reference to Jedao's killing spree, but isn't, not really.

[magician_king]

"Imagined what would last?"

Asks Quentin, tired enough that he doesn't make the connection between the greeting and his personal life right off the top of his head.

[biocomposer]

"This," Elijah says, gesturing at the ceiling. "Nothing broken remains unfixed for long. Should you be climbing ladders?"

[magician_king]

"No."

Says Quentin, readily. He's been lightheaded for days now.

"Do you feel up to it?"

[biocomposer]

"Yes. Come down," he says firmly, reaching for the lightbulb crate.

[magician_king]

He does as he's told, and leans into the ladder, taking over steadying duty- and that crate, he can hand the bulbs up.

"I'm on my own for a little while."

[biocomposer]

"Why?"

His tone has gentled a little.

[magician_king]

"I lashed out. They left."

He says, distilling it down to bare bones while he offers him the next bulb, like it isn't breaking his heart.

[biocomposer]

Elijah allows himself to experience the surprise he feels, the...hurt, felt on Quentin's behalf.

"...I'm sorry," he says, accepting the bulb. "Do you know if that's meant to be...permanent?"

[magician_king]

"Jedao says we can see each other sometimes, Fives hasn't gotten back to me."

Unboxing the next lightbulb.

"I mean. I guess the preoccupation saves me about having to think too hard about J blinding his warden in one eye. No offence."

[biocomposer]

"None taken."

He slots in the bulb, screws it tight.

"Do you think that reconciliation will be possible?"

[magician_king]

"I don't know. I didn't say what I said intending to hurt either of them- but it did, nevertheless, and they get to decide how they feel about that. It's just, waiting and seeing now, and bad jokes about how many people suffering anxiety attacks does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Sarcasm is one of the places Quentin sometimes goes when things get grim.

[biocomposer]

"At least two, it turns out," Elijah murmurs, with dessicating dryness. "I'll...keep my fingers crossed on your behalf, if that's appropriate?"

Help him to care about other people's personal lives, Quentin.

[magician_king]

"Thanks, Elijah. I am having- not full scale panic attacks, but severe anxiety- like I haven't had them since right before I was demoted."

He doesn't mind admitting, leaning into the ladder.

"I'm just either totally out of control, or completely numb, like out of body. Everything in between is on the cutting room floor."

[biocomposer]

"I...have some mindfulness techniques I can share on a one-on-one basis," he offers cautiously. "I learned it all a long time ago, but I ought to be practicing myself, all things considered."

The dining hall still feels like a no-go zone to him.

[magician_king]

He nods, and finds himself sitting, pretty abruptly, on the floor beside the ladder. It isn't a hard fall, just an unsteady crumple. Asking for help with these things never feels good.

[biocomposer]

Elijah tracks his progress downward, judges that he probably hasn't hurt himself and continues installation.

"...You know I can't fully empathise with the threatened loss of someone you...love," he says, and unusually there's a little unsteadiness in his tone. Uncertainty. "But I'm concerned for you."