"Oh, just some places to send us each to, that's all. And I'm holding you to that book shop thing," Steven grins. "Maybe you'll have to guide me there through the tether, yeah?" He can come up with a whole host of places, and tests, and practice tasks.
He just hasn't so far because he doesn't know what Marc and Layla really want, here.
"Oh, no, it's absolutely dependent of intent!" Steven says cheerfully, not quite getting the wording right, but he's on a roll so good luck correcting him. "That's how you start to block it off, right, you just want it to not show the other person where you are. The more you want to share, the more it will share. So if you're trying to hide from me, I'm not as likely to be able to find you, but if you're trying to get me to find you, it'll be that much easier to kind of follow along. It's all very instinctive, innit, since half of all the pairs don't have magic, and the other half most of the time won't know anything very advanced."
"So what you're saying is we should experiment with both?" she asks, giving him a small, crooked smile. "So we can get a bit of a feel for how to push through a block in case we need to in an emergency."
"Probably. But maybe work on strengthening it first, then worry about pushing through a block," Steven suggests. "I don't want to do it damage so early on, right. Not that I think we'll damage it, really, it's a very solid spell, but it is very new. And any blocks right now would probably be a lot harder to get through than a block when we're better at this."
"Oh, believe me, I do, too. And Marc. Both of us. Like knowing where you are, I mean, we pretty much always know where the other one of us is." He decides to stop talking now.
She swallows another laugh - fond, not mocking, but it still wouldn't be the best timing - and removes the little tea balls from the cups, setting one cup in front of him like a little slice of mercy.
"I'd certainly hope so," she says. And then, tone gone just a little cautious, "Where do you go, when you're not here?"
"Oh, um, it's kind of hard to describe. Sometimes it's just away, like I'm sleeping, or like no time passes at all? Sometimes I'm inside, like I can see what's going on but I don't have any control over it."
(That's me, right now.)
"That's Marc, right now," Steven dutifully translates. "It scared me the first time it happened, but I'm pretty used to it these days, now that I know what's happening, right. And sometimes..." He pauses, frowning at his tea. "Sometimes it's like there's a place, inside my head? And I can go there and just do normal homey things. It's like my flat back in London, a little bit."
Layla takes a seat across from him, hands curling loosely around her cup as she listens quietly, wincing a little when he mentions his fear.
(She would, she thinks, have been scared absolutely shitless. Taweret borrowing her body to communicate with her had been disorienting enough, and she'd invited that.)
"Huh," she says once he's done. "I'd wondered if you had sort of...a sense of physicality when you weren't actually in physical control. But that sounds...remarkable, really."
"Sometimes, sometimes not. It really isn't consistent, which is kind of annoying. Like when it's the mirrors, I can kind of feel a body that isn't Marc's?" He can't remember if they've ever explained the mirror thing, so he charges on. "You remember when I first brought you to the flat? And I was very weird-- I mean, weirder than usual, and interrupted myself and all that? It's because I kept seeing Marc in every mirror or reflection. In the fish tank, even. We were doing that a lot at first. I guess it was technically hallucinating. Doesn't happen so much anymore, but now and then. And when it's a mirror thing it's more of a toss-up if I still feel anything or can move, or just talk."
Layla exhales something that's not quite a laugh, though it runs close to it. "That explains the sideview mirror," she says. That it had something to do with how they communicated, or how they established or relinquished control, had been clear enough - but Marc hadn't been forthcoming, and there hadn't been time to ask Steven, and then between him turning back the sky, and the race to the tomb, and everything that had come after, the question had slipped her mind.
"But that's good, yeah? That you don't need that to communicate as much any more."
"The sideview-- oh, in the desert," Steven recalls belatedly. "Yeah. Though Marc didn't have to be all dramatic about it and break the mirror off." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
He toys with his mug. "I guess it probably is good. Makes things easier, anyway, when most of the time if he's around we can just-- talk. Or think at each other, too, if we're not with somebody who won't freak out that I'm talking to myself."
He's not sure Marc agrees. Marc has a weird habit of making a concerted effort to check any mirror he passes, as if looking for something. Steven's noticed it, by now.
"Guess those people are in short supply," she says, a little bit rueful and a little bit guilty - her own reaction to them had, after all, been less than ideal.
"More here than back home," Steven says, sounding optimistic. "We're up to three, now, you know. You, my teacher, and Tech, one of Marc's friends." That Codi person doesn't count, though she might have guessed something weird was up. "Though Visindy still gets a funny look when I do, so I kind of try not to."
"Yeah." He smiles back over at her, and turns his hand over to grip hers, back. "And we both think Marc ought to learn some more magic, too, so he does kind of have to pay attention and get talked to a bit."
(I've got a few spells down!)
"I know, Marc, but only five or six. I've got twenty. And you're not bad at it, you just don't apply yourself."
Marc radiates a surly kind of discomfort at the rebuke, but doesn't comment further. It edges a little at the feeling he got when Steven pushed him about the bedroom in the Duat, so he decides maybe he'll let it lie.
"Anyway," Steven says, fumbling for the conversation again. "Anyway, she will get used to it, you're right. I wish we could tell more people, but Marc doesn't really feel like it's safe."
Layla's head cocks slightly, like she's listening for some distant noise, and it's a moment before she shakes off her apparent distraction.
"I think I actually felt him scowling at you for a moment there," she says, a hint of something a little bit like wonder in her voice. They're different - she can almost qualify the difference in how they feel - but she's fairly certain she's never felt both Marc and Steven simultaneously before. Or, at least, she hasn't been able to recognize it.
Steven perks up with interest, and actually, so does Marc. "Really? I mean, I don't know if he was actually scowling, but he was definitely unhappy, which probably means he was scowling I just couldn't see it, really. What did it, er, feel like?"
She considers the question for a moment, absently biting her lip in thought.
"Like... Ever have the radio playing out around the middle of nowhere? And mostly, you're still getting the station you tuned to, but just for a second, you clip the edge of another range, and then you're getting both broadcasts at once. Except it's emotion, not music, and you were both so clear."
She pauses, and shakes her head with a laugh. "That was an absolutely terrible metaphor."
"I don't know about terrible," Steven says, pulling his attention away from her lips, because he absolutely should not be looking at those anyway. Bad Steven. "It might be unconventional, but it makes what you're talking about clearer, too, which is what metaphors are supposed to do, right? Really, that did help. I never thought about comparing Marc to a radio station going in and out of range before."
"I think it's a bit like that with either of you," she says. "Like - the tether's mostly tuned to whichever of you's in the driver's seat. The conditions have to be just right for me to feel you both at the same time."
She gently taps one fingertip against his knuckles. "Pretty sure this is part of it. Physical contact seems to make the emotional part of the tether clearer, at least for me."
"Oh, that's pretty common, from what I read," Steven says brightly. "I hadn't really noticed, but Marc might have." Since he touched Layla even more than Steven does, and he's somehow even more aware of the tether than Steven is, too. "We're up and paying attention to things together a lot, though, so you'll probably notice it more often the more we practice."
"I hope so," Layla says. And then pauses, grimacing slightly. "Not that I'm planning to eavesdrop or anything like that. It's just...nice knowing you're both there without you having to say it."
"I mean, I don't think you'll be able to hear him, exactly," Steven muses. "Only the really tightest bonds ever actually hear each other's thoughts, and usually only when they're trying really hard, and usually only when they've been tethered for decades. So I don't think you really need to worry about eavesdropping, really. Anything else I think we wouldn't mind. Would we?"
(Nah. She can tell how I feel any time.)
"He says he doesn't mind that," Steven says, pleased.
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scarabwings) wrote2022-08-14 11:52 pm
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He just hasn't so far because he doesn't know what Marc and Layla really want, here.
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"There's a thought, though - d'you think it'll make a difference if I want you to find me, or is that part of the magic independent of intent?"
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She pauses a moment, then adds, "I have to admit, I do like having some idea of where you two are."
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"I'd certainly hope so," she says. And then, tone gone just a little cautious, "Where do you go, when you're not here?"
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(That's me, right now.)
"That's Marc, right now," Steven dutifully translates. "It scared me the first time it happened, but I'm pretty used to it these days, now that I know what's happening, right. And sometimes..." He pauses, frowning at his tea. "Sometimes it's like there's a place, inside my head? And I can go there and just do normal homey things. It's like my flat back in London, a little bit."
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(She would, she thinks, have been scared absolutely shitless. Taweret borrowing her body to communicate with her had been disorienting enough, and she'd invited that.)
"Huh," she says once he's done. "I'd wondered if you had sort of...a sense of physicality when you weren't actually in physical control. But that sounds...remarkable, really."
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"But that's good, yeah? That you don't need that to communicate as much any more."
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He toys with his mug. "I guess it probably is good. Makes things easier, anyway, when most of the time if he's around we can just-- talk. Or think at each other, too, if we're not with somebody who won't freak out that I'm talking to myself."
He's not sure Marc agrees. Marc has a weird habit of making a concerted effort to check any mirror he passes, as if looking for something. Steven's noticed it, by now.
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(I've got a few spells down!)
"I know, Marc, but only five or six. I've got twenty. And you're not bad at it, you just don't apply yourself."
Marc radiates a surly kind of discomfort at the rebuke, but doesn't comment further. It edges a little at the feeling he got when Steven pushed him about the bedroom in the Duat, so he decides maybe he'll let it lie.
"Anyway," Steven says, fumbling for the conversation again. "Anyway, she will get used to it, you're right. I wish we could tell more people, but Marc doesn't really feel like it's safe."
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"I think I actually felt him scowling at you for a moment there," she says, a hint of something a little bit like wonder in her voice. They're different - she can almost qualify the difference in how they feel - but she's fairly certain she's never felt both Marc and Steven simultaneously before. Or, at least, she hasn't been able to recognize it.
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"Like... Ever have the radio playing out around the middle of nowhere? And mostly, you're still getting the station you tuned to, but just for a second, you clip the edge of another range, and then you're getting both broadcasts at once. Except it's emotion, not music, and you were both so clear."
She pauses, and shakes her head with a laugh. "That was an absolutely terrible metaphor."
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She gently taps one fingertip against his knuckles. "Pretty sure this is part of it. Physical contact seems to make the emotional part of the tether clearer, at least for me."
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(Nah. She can tell how I feel any time.)
"He says he doesn't mind that," Steven says, pleased.
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