This particular version of Shadow Earth is both familiar and not to Merlin. Finding it had been a pain in the ass. They had not dared to use any trumps, and Logrus had bounced them through at least a hundred different shadow Earths before Merlin gave up and broke out Shadow Walking with Pattern. They landed straight in the heart of New York, punching a hole through universe and despite all their instincts to hide immediately, Merlin made them both to stand in the middle of the street, looking up into the traffic cameras as cars came to screaming halts all around them.
Finch would probably find them, wouldn't he? The man probably has every Amberite and Chaosite written into his program.
He pulls Despil to a sidewalk and tells him to grab a beer or cup of coffee. Merlin will find him later.
He finds his way to a library himself, making himself comfortable to wait. It's probably going to take a few hours. Maybe?
Finch might be gone, but his Machine is not. It is as before: the numbers never stop coming, as though the war never happened. Little do these people know how close they came to having their lives controlled by an invisible superintelligence. One that thought it could run their lives better than they could.
And who knows, maybe it could. There was a cold efficiency to Samaritan's logic, cutting through all the faults and messes that define humanity and creating a sanitized version of people in its place. But who needs that kind of bullshit? Let people be flawed and stupid, if they want to be. And if they insist on plotting murder, Shaw will pick up a gun and reason with them, in her own way.
Today the Machine gives her something different -- a number to a building instead of a person. She knows this place very well, as it used to be the safehouse before Samaritan flushed them out. Of all the places they'd worked out of since then, nothing quite said 'Finch' like the old defunct library. He loved being among all those dusty books and corridors filled with shelves and knowledge.
As far as she knows, it's still owned in his name. One of his names, anyway. If the Machine sent her here, she suspects it's something to do with him. She does a perimeter check and then makes her way inside, gun drawn and ready. There are footprints in the dust. She follows it upstairs, through the iron gates that are no longer locked, and into the room that used to be Finch's office. Someone is sitting in his chair. Shaw points her gun.
Surprising, Merlin thinks. A move that he didn't expect. Finch has never been especially happy about him knowing a few too many things about this particular lady. Honestly, it's a crime that she's living in a lie like this. That's what he thinks anyway.
He has his feet on the table, leafing through a book that he pulled out from the pile that he gathered on the desk a few hours ago. About encryption, of course. Beside him a cup of coffee that went cold already an hour ago.
"I kind of expected him to show up himself. I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or excited. Hello, again. Is breathing allowed? Or are you going to ventilate me further?"
He shouldn't joke around, though. She could probably kick his ass to Amber and back, a few times.
She knows this face. A business associate of a number from a while back, the wingman. Back then, they were working on a shoe-string budget. Ramen noodles and just her usual arsenal, nothing fancy to augment the firepower. Finch was working on his own thing during that mission, with Root. At the end of it, they somehow found themselves sitting around a table somewhere in Midtown kicking back. The whole gang, minus Fusco. Fusco scored himself a date. Good for him. Shaw and Reese ended up staring blankly at the nerds while they talked about coding and programming and other boring shit.
She doesn't ask the obvious question, which is how did you find this place. If he's a hacker, he might have traced Finch back to his last known locations. Finch was always very careful, but no one is perfect.
"Me," Merlin agreed. Disappointing, wasn't it? All this hype for nothing. Just some dull programmer breaking into a library.
"I want to see Finch. I have business with him."
Straight to business was probably the best course of action here. She looked like straight to business sort of person. As long as he remembers, she seemed to be like that.
"You wouldn't happen to know how to make that happen?" Cheeky, he gave a small grin while dropping his feet to the ground and stood up, stretching. "I would write before swinging by, really, but I feel like there would be armed men waiting for me if I'd do that."
Tacos and liquor. That sounds like a good time any night. Merlin has already started with a few too many shots of Jack Daniels while he worked around in his new kitchen. It takes a lot to get him properly drunk so even after a few hours of Netflix - a marvelous invention - and cooking while sipping on some whiskey, he's only just buzzed.
New York, new apartment, new job. He's working as a developer for a small company that has some innovative ideas about the online structure. His days go by head in a cloud (the online type) and fingers flying on a keyboard. Luke stopped by when he got the new apartment, rental this time, and dropped him some funds. The place is smaller than the one before, higher up from the ground but still the filled with the familiar items that make it Merlin's, paint, books, old furniture. It's a studio, his bed in one corner, kitchen in the other, art and books in the middle. The building is old, red brick walls lined with big windows.
As promised, he unlocked the door. Old rock classics are blasting from the loudspeakers high on the walls. He has embraced the new technology happily enough, blue tooth connecting his phone and playlists. Ghost took a mild offense when he insisted on trying a little bit of everything. Silly thing.
Most likely he won't notice Dean before he's inside. He's nodding his head to Paint it Black while cutting up tomatoes at the kitchen island, arguing with a voice that sounds much like his own. "I must say I prefer the purer tunes, dad." "You would, wouldn't you. But you have to agree that there's something to be said about inspiration." "Perhaps, but at least 70% of the time it proves to be a hindrance as well." "Oh, please..."
It was a relief that Merlin had found a place to live and a job to support himself. The studio was kind of small in Dean's opinion but he had lived in smaller before Oddfellows really took off. All that matter was Merlin seemed happy with it and so far no one had shown up to kill him. That counted as a win in Dean's book.
The music was so loud he heard it in the stairwell before he even got to the hallway. It made him chuckle a little before he opened the door. No one noticed him which made sense. It was a miracle he could hear Merlin talking to someone over the music. Dean closed and locked the door behind him before he reached out with his own magic and turned the music down to conversation levels.
"Hasn't anyone told you you're going to go deaf? How have your neighbors not called in a noise complaint yet?" He asked, mostly rhetorically as he walked over to the kitchen island and put down a tote bag. He pulled out a bottle of very magical rum, made with a single drop of kraken blood, and some plain old, normal vodka.
"Oh," Merlin looked up from the tomatoes, a smile instantly appearing on his lips. "They probably have." He sounded completely unrepentant of his noise crimes.
"They've tried," said his voice from a ring of light somewhere on the table.
"Oh... What did you do?" Merlin asked a bit wearily.
"I thought you wouldn't appreciate the disturbance so I reconnected them to self-help lines."
Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly, but mostly in amusement. "What kind of self-help, Ghost?" And the deadpan, emotionless version of his voice replied: "In an advertisement this lady promised 100% relaxation. I thought it was appropriate."
Snorting, Merlin reached out for a kitchen towel and wiped his hands on it while gesturing towards Dean and then towards the ring of light. "Ghost, this is Dean. I told you about him. Dean, this is Ghostwheel."
"Good evening, Dean."
Dean would get a greeting from Merlin as well, but it was more in a shape of a tap on his shoulder and an affectionate half hug sort of shoulder bump mixture that wasn't really here or there. Then Merlin pointed his finger at the rum. "That right there isn't just vodka. What's in it?"
Yes, he's very nosy. You should know that by now...
A little light in the table was an obvious sign of the AI but Dean felt the presence of the computer mind like there was another person in the room with them right now. His magic was always consciously aware of technology. Electronics were a hum of energy in the back of his mind. When they were given consciousness, they became like people to his magic.
"Ghostwheel, nice to meet you." He nodded to the light and then he pulled Merlin into a proper hug. Friends could hug without a problem. They were adjusting but it wasn't impossible to share affection. It wasn't the end of the world if they hugged.
Dean spun the bottle around so the label faced Merlin and Ghostwheel. "This is rum I'm considering for Oddfellows. It's distilled exactly the same as normal rum but they've added a drop of kraken blood to the whole process. I thought you might want to try a little taste test with me."
Oddfellows carried various magical and unusual alcohols. It was one of those things that kept the magical community coming in. They could get drinks there that no other nightclub served or could even imagine existed.
"The guy who makes it says it's got a stronger kick and carries a little taste of the ocean and its power." He hadn't yet tasted it himself. This was the first bottle the sea witch who made it had sent out to him. He figured it was best to taste kraken blood rum with a friend on hand.
That lack of proper hugging was mostly for Merlin's own benefit. He was physically affectionate with one of his brothers and Luke. Usually just with Luke, though. Despil required a little bit of boozing to be involved in the process. Hugging made him think of what else it could have been and ah well, there it was, Awkwardness. Hello, old friend.
Merlin turns eagerly to the rum, taking a seat at the kitchen island to pull the bottle toward him and read it curiously.
"Kraken blood, huh?" He held the bottle near to his ear and listened to the hum of it. You weren't born to the Amber's bloodline and not have sea in your veins. Merlin knew how to sail, he knew how to handle himself in water, but this was something else, wasn't it? Old and yawning, the depth of the sea.
"Sounds fascinating. Shall we have a drink before tacos?"
Ghostwheel had gone quiet. His attention elsewhere. Drink and food really held little interest for the AI. Merlin was on his feet again, though, rummaging around in the cupboard, trying to find glasses.
"What's your top magical drink in Oddfellows?" he asked while glancing back at Dean. "I mean, what is bought the most?" He still found the idea rather fascinating.
The dream sequence had been the least to say interesting. Waking up mostly nude in a cryo pod equally fascinating. Merlin settled down to wait and see what was going on. He could work the red overalls, honestly. Red was a good color on him. Ghostwheel returned to him during the brief walk from cryo chamber to level one, a mellowly glowing circle of light around his right wrist, not a bracelet, more like a tattoo.
He listenes to quietly all the lectures and speeches, gets into his bunk, takes a shower, investigates his gear. He takes advantage of the magic room, learning the basic principles in a few hours of focused studying. He tries a few spells and amuses himself with the idea of staying and learning...
Maybe another time.
He eats and by then Ghost wheel returns to him, having scanned the ship from top to bottom. First it's his gear, then figure out what to do next. Ghostwheel overrides the security protocols at the lift and they board the thing, riding it up to the level that isn't marked on the map. Ghostwheel locates his deck, which Merlin slips into the pocket of his overalls, his spikard, which he puts on his figner and a hairband from someone else's possessions, which he uses to tie back his unruly curls.
He spends an hour just eyeballing the ritual magic bullshit that is scattered upon the level, people tied up on some sort of leeching spell. It's very unsightly and he sets Ghostwheel on a task, worming his way through the ship's datalogs, saving everything of use before twisting a few very important knobs.
Walks through mostly empty hallways and wonders where the crew is. He flips through some rooms, poking his nose here and there. Until eventually the lift starts working and people start pouring out. Oh. Well.
"Hello, good day, isn't it?" he asks from a mostly green lady who looks at him in disgust, but with a little bit of that vague look in her eyes that makes him wonder if she's doing something else in the meanwhile.
"This one is yours, Veels," she says and Merlin's brows shoot up in question. "You're not supposed to be here, Fool," the green lady continues and Merlin shrugs.
"I figured that taking a look around wasn't such a big deal."
"Look, asshole, if I have to fix that lift because of you, I will skin it out of your ass."
"No need to get nasty," Merlin laughs but throws in an easy going wink at the green one who snorts and pushes past him.
It goes a little something like this: Velia fucks up, pisses off the wrong people (who were the right people, they just happened to be the people in charge), and gets shoved on team leader duty until, most likely, she's an old hag with disintegrating bones and saggy tits. Well, no. She'll airlock herself before her tits sag. Which means she'll be a team leader until she dies. Whoever thought giving her this sort of responsibility was a good idea really needs to reassess their definition of 'good.'
Like clockwork, a new wave comes in. Salo did his thing, she has a newbie to terrorize, and all is well with the world. Until this one decides to up and leave or get him or herself killed, and then she'll be short a team member again. The turnover rate's getting to be a bit overkill, lately.
Velia hasn't bothered to check and see the newbie. No reason why, aside from the fact that she royally pissed Salo off the other day, and she's avoiding his domain until he stops looking like he'll burst a gasket whenever he hears her name. The odds of him moving on aren't looking too good, but it's okay! She's with Liv.
"Who?" she asks, when she hears Liv's angelic voice. Like bells tinkling, and angels shitting rainbows that sparkle in the sky. That's what she sounds like. A blonde mop of hair--messy and thick, half braided, half threaded with colorful feathers--pops from Liv's other side. And look-- "The baby!"
She brightens. Slinks over to her new slave once Liv dismisses him. She's wearing her usual: barely anything, calling attention to the tattoos that line her bare arms, chest, shoulders, and legs. The tips of her fingers glide along one of the stones on her necklace.
"Already taking liberties, I know." A tsk. "Dreads is right, you're not supposed to be up here. Which means if you get caught, it's me who gets yelled at. What're you looking for, Baby?"
Dreads. Veels. Oh, baby. Merlin's smile curves a bit deeper as the blond walks to him. She's beautiful. And obviously not afraid to flaunt it - a thing that Merlin might be grateful of eventually, or right now. But at least he manages to keep his gaze on eye level (mostly).
"I'm sorry?" he offers with a shameless little smile, pale eyes twinkling towards her while he pushes his hands into his pockets and leans closer to whisper: "The lift is okay, by the way. I barely touched it." As if that would make everything okay.
"I was just looking around, honestly. This is the first time I've ever been summoned through dreamscape. At least against my own will. Your magic is impressive. Do you have business with Amber or the courts of Chaos?"
Velia thinks nearly everyone is beautiful, so maybe her opinion isn't the greatest when it comes to his level of attractiveness. He's hot, though. She'd bang him. (He should just count himself lucky that she's kept her hands to herself.)
Or she was, but she's smiling a bit too sweetly up at him, lifting a hand to tuck a chunk of hair behind his ear, before dragging the tips of her fingers down along the line of his jaw. "Curiosity, pet. Must be careful about that." Blah blah the lift is fine, Liv's just being a grump because someone's playing with her toys. "Though that does beg the question of how you even managed to convince the lift to do the lifting."
If she happens to straighten up a little more, so that he has a better view down what's there of her top? Purely coincidence, of course.
"Amber? No." The hell is that? "And I've never heard of any courts with either of those names." Now she's making a face. "Ancient's balls, you're not some religious freak show, are you?"
"I'm always careful," he assures her with a murmur as she reaches up to tuck a bit of his curly hair behind his ear. And since he's so easily offered, he take a brief gander to her neckline. It would be rude not to, wouldn't it?
"The lift was very cooperative. AIs tend to like me, I can't help it. It's my natural charm."
If he's smiling in a way that makes his eyes twinkle, it's mostly because she's offering something in return. How is he supposed to resist any of that? And excuse him if he takes a liberty of lifting one hand to draw a light finger over the tattoos on her forearm. "These are magical if I'm not mistaken?"
Her assumptions about Amber and the Courts make him snort out a warm laughter. "Ah, no. Honestly I'm not. Those are the places I'm from. It's not often that I meet other people who are familiar with the concept of multiple worlds, though. Usually that means some kind of connection to either one of those two. But never mind, it's not important."
It was one of those rare mornings when neither of them would have to be somewhere, time to just chill and make breakfast, take breakfast back to bed and watch dumb cartoons while sharing coffee tasting kisses.
All good and really domestic and kind of sappy. Despil would have rolled his eyes at Merlin and Merlin would have immediately worried for Dean's safety. But his brother wasn't there and their morning remaining undisturbed.
After second round of caffeine Merlin had something for Dean, though. He went across the floor in his studio flat to the corner that had his painting tools and returned with cards, the kind that he called trumps. They were a little bigger than normal playing cards, around the size of a tarot deck. He climbed back into bed with Dean and put two of the cards on his lap. One was of Merlin himself and the other was of his flat.
"I know I've mentioned before that I'd make you a few trumps. I need to teach you to also use them."
This was exactly what Dean hoped for his entire life. Even when he was young and angry at the world he dreamed of someone he could sit around with and not feel the need to fill the silence. With Merlin it was so easy just to settle back against the bed and watch TV without a care.
"Your tarot cards," he said as he picked up the two cards in his lap. Dean could feel the magic in them but it was Merlin's magic and a little alien to him. He knew they weren't tarot cards but they looked like that to him so he used the term. Sometimes Merlin was amused by it. "What makes you think I can use them?"
Dean had only ever used his powers with technology, the modern world. He didn't operate on the same level as other magic users. Often, he couldn't do what they did. "I'm willing to try but... I don't, Merlin. I might not be able to."
He just wanted him to be warned. He hated letting people down.
Merlin gave a snort of laughter at the tarot card comment and crawled into bed beside Dean, wrapping one arm around him as they leaned back against the head of the bed.
"They don't require magic to activate. They require magic to make them, but after they're done, they're like... your phone basically, anyone with enough focus and mind control can use them. Which is great sometimes, not so great other times."
He picked up one of the cards on the pile on his own lap and brought it up in front of them. It was a picture of Dean's own apartment, hand painted like the rest of them.
"A trump is an item that is real it represents the place or the person it pictures. You can join me on a connection if you touch me while I'm using one, like this..." He focused on the card, let it gain depth and focus until the design turned three dimensional and they could see through the card into Dean's house. Maybe there was a pillow in a different place or a jacket thrown over a chair. They would now see what the place looked like right now.
Dean wrapped an arm around him in return and ran his fingers gently through his hair, slow and steady. It was an idle thing. Dean generally did it any time Merlin was close to him. He found it comforting.
The phone was a good analogy to use. Dean could do a lot of magic with his phone. There were some sorcerers who used it like a modern day spell book. He wasn't nearly that disciplined but he knew how to do magic with a phone. He turned the card over in his free hand, considering the image on it.
"It's a portal," he said, watching his apartment become real. "I mean, we met because I fell through a crack in the sidewalk but that's a different sort of magic than a portal." As far as he knew no one had figured out how to make a phone with pictures into a portal though they were a more honest representation of something than a painting.
He sent a little bit of his magic through Merlin's to suss out how the trump card felt and if he could adapt his magic around it. Maybe there was a middle ground he could use.
Merlin had a soft spot for the way Dean ran his fingers through his hair, it was calming for him too, made him feel at home. He leaned in to press his nose on top of Dean's head, watching him play with the cards from the corner of his eye. Then he turned the card in his hand, flipped it in a way of speaking and the connection was gone.
Dean's magic would be met with a solid unmoving force. The power used in making trumps was one of the corner stones of the universe itself. It was a power that couldn't be broken by Chaos or by Order. It was equal and no magic Merlin knew could touch it. The only way he had learned to manipulate trumps was through some serious reality warping, which had brought Ghostwheel alive. And Ghostwheel was a dangerous thing, alive and conscious with a power that rivalled primal chaos and primal order. Merlin didn't even want to think about it. He had a feeling he had strapped himself onto a skyrocket and he was just hanging on by the tips of his fingers. But that was a tail for another day.
"Yes, it's a portal, kind of. But it's more than a portal. What you can use it for, though, is to talk with someone at the other end, or you can move through them." He handed over the trump that pictured Dean's apartment. "Concentrate on it. Just focus, don't do anything else. Imagine how it'll become more and more alive, three dimensional..."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
purpleandgray) wrote2017-01-16 06:04 pm
Shaw & Merlin
Finch would probably find them, wouldn't he? The man probably has every Amberite and Chaosite written into his program.
He pulls Despil to a sidewalk and tells him to grab a beer or cup of coffee. Merlin will find him later.
He finds his way to a library himself, making himself comfortable to wait. It's probably going to take a few hours. Maybe?
no subject
And who knows, maybe it could. There was a cold efficiency to Samaritan's logic, cutting through all the faults and messes that define humanity and creating a sanitized version of people in its place. But who needs that kind of bullshit? Let people be flawed and stupid, if they want to be. And if they insist on plotting murder, Shaw will pick up a gun and reason with them, in her own way.
Today the Machine gives her something different -- a number to a building instead of a person. She knows this place very well, as it used to be the safehouse before Samaritan flushed them out. Of all the places they'd worked out of since then, nothing quite said 'Finch' like the old defunct library. He loved being among all those dusty books and corridors filled with shelves and knowledge.
As far as she knows, it's still owned in his name. One of his names, anyway. If the Machine sent her here, she suspects it's something to do with him. She does a perimeter check and then makes her way inside, gun drawn and ready. There are footprints in the dust. She follows it upstairs, through the iron gates that are no longer locked, and into the room that used to be Finch's office. Someone is sitting in his chair. Shaw points her gun.
"You move, I shoot."
no subject
He has his feet on the table, leafing through a book that he pulled out from the pile that he gathered on the desk a few hours ago. About encryption, of course. Beside him a cup of coffee that went cold already an hour ago.
"I kind of expected him to show up himself. I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or excited. Hello, again. Is breathing allowed? Or are you going to ventilate me further?"
He shouldn't joke around, though. She could probably kick his ass to Amber and back, a few times.
no subject
She knows this face. A business associate of a number from a while back, the wingman. Back then, they were working on a shoe-string budget. Ramen noodles and just her usual arsenal, nothing fancy to augment the firepower. Finch was working on his own thing during that mission, with Root. At the end of it, they somehow found themselves sitting around a table somewhere in Midtown kicking back. The whole gang, minus Fusco. Fusco scored himself a date. Good for him. Shaw and Reese ended up staring blankly at the nerds while they talked about coding and programming and other boring shit.
She doesn't ask the obvious question, which is how did you find this place. If he's a hacker, he might have traced Finch back to his last known locations. Finch was always very careful, but no one is perfect.
"I might. What do you want?"
no subject
"I want to see Finch. I have business with him."
Straight to business was probably the best course of action here. She looked like straight to business sort of person. As long as he remembers, she seemed to be like that.
"You wouldn't happen to know how to make that happen?" Cheeky, he gave a small grin while dropping his feet to the ground and stood up, stretching. "I would write before swinging by, really, but I feel like there would be armed men waiting for me if I'd do that."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@ nyc_merlin
New York, new apartment, new job. He's working as a developer for a small company that has some innovative ideas about the online structure. His days go by head in a cloud (the online type) and fingers flying on a keyboard. Luke stopped by when he got the new apartment, rental this time, and dropped him some funds. The place is smaller than the one before, higher up from the ground but still the filled with the familiar items that make it Merlin's, paint, books, old furniture. It's a studio, his bed in one corner, kitchen in the other, art and books in the middle. The building is old, red brick walls lined with big windows.
As promised, he unlocked the door. Old rock classics are blasting from the loudspeakers high on the walls. He has embraced the new technology happily enough, blue tooth connecting his phone and playlists. Ghost took a mild offense when he insisted on trying a little bit of everything. Silly thing.
Most likely he won't notice Dean before he's inside. He's nodding his head to Paint it Black while cutting up tomatoes at the kitchen island, arguing with a voice that sounds much like his own. "I must say I prefer the purer tunes, dad." "You would, wouldn't you. But you have to agree that there's something to be said about inspiration." "Perhaps, but at least 70% of the time it proves to be a hindrance as well." "Oh, please..."
no subject
The music was so loud he heard it in the stairwell before he even got to the hallway. It made him chuckle a little before he opened the door. No one noticed him which made sense. It was a miracle he could hear Merlin talking to someone over the music. Dean closed and locked the door behind him before he reached out with his own magic and turned the music down to conversation levels.
"Hasn't anyone told you you're going to go deaf? How have your neighbors not called in a noise complaint yet?" He asked, mostly rhetorically as he walked over to the kitchen island and put down a tote bag. He pulled out a bottle of very magical rum, made with a single drop of kraken blood, and some plain old, normal vodka.
no subject
"They've tried," said his voice from a ring of light somewhere on the table.
"Oh... What did you do?" Merlin asked a bit wearily.
"I thought you wouldn't appreciate the disturbance so I reconnected them to self-help lines."
Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly, but mostly in amusement. "What kind of self-help, Ghost?" And the deadpan, emotionless version of his voice replied: "In an advertisement this lady promised 100% relaxation. I thought it was appropriate."
Snorting, Merlin reached out for a kitchen towel and wiped his hands on it while gesturing towards Dean and then towards the ring of light. "Ghost, this is Dean. I told you about him. Dean, this is Ghostwheel."
"Good evening, Dean."
Dean would get a greeting from Merlin as well, but it was more in a shape of a tap on his shoulder and an affectionate half hug sort of shoulder bump mixture that wasn't really here or there. Then Merlin pointed his finger at the rum. "That right there isn't just vodka. What's in it?"
Yes, he's very nosy. You should know that by now...
no subject
"Ghostwheel, nice to meet you." He nodded to the light and then he pulled Merlin into a proper hug. Friends could hug without a problem. They were adjusting but it wasn't impossible to share affection. It wasn't the end of the world if they hugged.
Dean spun the bottle around so the label faced Merlin and Ghostwheel. "This is rum I'm considering for Oddfellows. It's distilled exactly the same as normal rum but they've added a drop of kraken blood to the whole process. I thought you might want to try a little taste test with me."
Oddfellows carried various magical and unusual alcohols. It was one of those things that kept the magical community coming in. They could get drinks there that no other nightclub served or could even imagine existed.
"The guy who makes it says it's got a stronger kick and carries a little taste of the ocean and its power." He hadn't yet tasted it himself. This was the first bottle the sea witch who made it had sent out to him. He figured it was best to taste kraken blood rum with a friend on hand.
no subject
Merlin turns eagerly to the rum, taking a seat at the kitchen island to pull the bottle toward him and read it curiously.
"Kraken blood, huh?" He held the bottle near to his ear and listened to the hum of it. You weren't born to the Amber's bloodline and not have sea in your veins. Merlin knew how to sail, he knew how to handle himself in water, but this was something else, wasn't it? Old and yawning, the depth of the sea.
"Sounds fascinating. Shall we have a drink before tacos?"
Ghostwheel had gone quiet. His attention elsewhere. Drink and food really held little interest for the AI. Merlin was on his feet again, though, rummaging around in the cupboard, trying to find glasses.
"What's your top magical drink in Oddfellows?" he asked while glancing back at Dean. "I mean, what is bought the most?" He still found the idea rather fascinating.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
LMAO typos also sorry for the delay!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
this is making me so hungry
time for tacos!
I wish!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
I'm sorry for the delay. Sickness has been keeling me over for three fucking weeks. D:
ugh, no fun
Tiamat - first meeting
He listenes to quietly all the lectures and speeches, gets into his bunk, takes a shower, investigates his gear. He takes advantage of the magic room, learning the basic principles in a few hours of focused studying. He tries a few spells and amuses himself with the idea of staying and learning...
Maybe another time.
He eats and by then Ghost wheel returns to him, having scanned the ship from top to bottom. First it's his gear, then figure out what to do next. Ghostwheel overrides the security protocols at the lift and they board the thing, riding it up to the level that isn't marked on the map. Ghostwheel locates his deck, which Merlin slips into the pocket of his overalls, his spikard, which he puts on his figner and a hairband from someone else's possessions, which he uses to tie back his unruly curls.
He spends an hour just eyeballing the ritual magic bullshit that is scattered upon the level, people tied up on some sort of leeching spell. It's very unsightly and he sets Ghostwheel on a task, worming his way through the ship's datalogs, saving everything of use before twisting a few very important knobs.
Walks through mostly empty hallways and wonders where the crew is. He flips through some rooms, poking his nose here and there. Until eventually the lift starts working and people start pouring out. Oh. Well.
"Hello, good day, isn't it?" he asks from a mostly green lady who looks at him in disgust, but with a little bit of that vague look in her eyes that makes him wonder if she's doing something else in the meanwhile.
"This one is yours, Veels," she says and Merlin's brows shoot up in question. "You're not supposed to be here, Fool," the green lady continues and Merlin shrugs.
"I figured that taking a look around wasn't such a big deal."
"Look, asshole, if I have to fix that lift because of you, I will skin it out of your ass."
"No need to get nasty," Merlin laughs but throws in an easy going wink at the green one who snorts and pushes past him.
no subject
Like clockwork, a new wave comes in. Salo did his thing, she has a newbie to terrorize, and all is well with the world. Until this one decides to up and leave or get him or herself killed, and then she'll be short a team member again. The turnover rate's getting to be a bit overkill, lately.
Velia hasn't bothered to check and see the newbie. No reason why, aside from the fact that she royally pissed Salo off the other day, and she's avoiding his domain until he stops looking like he'll burst a gasket whenever he hears her name. The odds of him moving on aren't looking too good, but it's okay! She's with Liv.
"Who?" she asks, when she hears Liv's angelic voice. Like bells tinkling, and angels shitting rainbows that sparkle in the sky. That's what she sounds like. A blonde mop of hair--messy and thick, half braided, half threaded with colorful feathers--pops from Liv's other side. And look-- "The baby!"
She brightens. Slinks over to her new slave once Liv dismisses him. She's wearing her usual: barely anything, calling attention to the tattoos that line her bare arms, chest, shoulders, and legs. The tips of her fingers glide along one of the stones on her necklace.
"Already taking liberties, I know." A tsk. "Dreads is right, you're not supposed to be up here. Which means if you get caught, it's me who gets yelled at. What're you looking for, Baby?"
no subject
"I'm sorry?" he offers with a shameless little smile, pale eyes twinkling towards her while he pushes his hands into his pockets and leans closer to whisper: "The lift is okay, by the way. I barely touched it." As if that would make everything okay.
"I was just looking around, honestly. This is the first time I've ever been summoned through dreamscape. At least against my own will. Your magic is impressive. Do you have business with Amber or the courts of Chaos?"
no subject
Or she was, but she's smiling a bit too sweetly up at him, lifting a hand to tuck a chunk of hair behind his ear, before dragging the tips of her fingers down along the line of his jaw. "Curiosity, pet. Must be careful about that." Blah blah the lift is fine, Liv's just being a grump because someone's playing with her toys. "Though that does beg the question of how you even managed to convince the lift to do the lifting."
If she happens to straighten up a little more, so that he has a better view down what's there of her top? Purely coincidence, of course.
"Amber? No." The hell is that? "And I've never heard of any courts with either of those names." Now she's making a face. "Ancient's balls, you're not some religious freak show, are you?"
no subject
"The lift was very cooperative. AIs tend to like me, I can't help it. It's my natural charm."
If he's smiling in a way that makes his eyes twinkle, it's mostly because she's offering something in return. How is he supposed to resist any of that? And excuse him if he takes a liberty of lifting one hand to draw a light finger over the tattoos on her forearm. "These are magical if I'm not mistaken?"
Her assumptions about Amber and the Courts make him snort out a warm laughter. "Ah, no. Honestly I'm not. Those are the places I'm from. It's not often that I meet other people who are familiar with the concept of multiple worlds, though. Usually that means some kind of connection to either one of those two. But never mind, it's not important."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@ nyc_merlin / trumps
All good and really domestic and kind of sappy. Despil would have rolled his eyes at Merlin and Merlin would have immediately worried for Dean's safety. But his brother wasn't there and their morning remaining undisturbed.
After second round of caffeine Merlin had something for Dean, though. He went across the floor in his studio flat to the corner that had his painting tools and returned with cards, the kind that he called trumps. They were a little bigger than normal playing cards, around the size of a tarot deck. He climbed back into bed with Dean and put two of the cards on his lap. One was of Merlin himself and the other was of his flat.
"I know I've mentioned before that I'd make you a few trumps. I need to teach you to also use them."
no subject
"Your tarot cards," he said as he picked up the two cards in his lap. Dean could feel the magic in them but it was Merlin's magic and a little alien to him. He knew they weren't tarot cards but they looked like that to him so he used the term. Sometimes Merlin was amused by it. "What makes you think I can use them?"
Dean had only ever used his powers with technology, the modern world. He didn't operate on the same level as other magic users. Often, he couldn't do what they did. "I'm willing to try but... I don't, Merlin. I might not be able to."
He just wanted him to be warned. He hated letting people down.
no subject
"They don't require magic to activate. They require magic to make them, but after they're done, they're like... your phone basically, anyone with enough focus and mind control can use them. Which is great sometimes, not so great other times."
He picked up one of the cards on the pile on his own lap and brought it up in front of them. It was a picture of Dean's own apartment, hand painted like the rest of them.
"A trump is an item that is real it represents the place or the person it pictures. You can join me on a connection if you touch me while I'm using one, like this..." He focused on the card, let it gain depth and focus until the design turned three dimensional and they could see through the card into Dean's house. Maybe there was a pillow in a different place or a jacket thrown over a chair. They would now see what the place looked like right now.
no subject
The phone was a good analogy to use. Dean could do a lot of magic with his phone. There were some sorcerers who used it like a modern day spell book. He wasn't nearly that disciplined but he knew how to do magic with a phone. He turned the card over in his free hand, considering the image on it.
"It's a portal," he said, watching his apartment become real. "I mean, we met because I fell through a crack in the sidewalk but that's a different sort of magic than a portal." As far as he knew no one had figured out how to make a phone with pictures into a portal though they were a more honest representation of something than a painting.
He sent a little bit of his magic through Merlin's to suss out how the trump card felt and if he could adapt his magic around it. Maybe there was a middle ground he could use.
no subject
Dean's magic would be met with a solid unmoving force. The power used in making trumps was one of the corner stones of the universe itself. It was a power that couldn't be broken by Chaos or by Order. It was equal and no magic Merlin knew could touch it. The only way he had learned to manipulate trumps was through some serious reality warping, which had brought Ghostwheel alive. And Ghostwheel was a dangerous thing, alive and conscious with a power that rivalled primal chaos and primal order. Merlin didn't even want to think about it. He had a feeling he had strapped himself onto a skyrocket and he was just hanging on by the tips of his fingers. But that was a tail for another day.
"Yes, it's a portal, kind of. But it's more than a portal. What you can use it for, though, is to talk with someone at the other end, or you can move through them." He handed over the trump that pictured Dean's apartment. "Concentrate on it. Just focus, don't do anything else. Imagine how it'll become more and more alive, three dimensional..."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@nyc_merlin
He just doesn't think much about these things, I suppose. Do you want to meet him still?
no subject
no subject
I should invite him over for drinks then. Next weekend?
no subject
Drinks are fine with me.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)