@taznovembercelebration - Wood /Gold
Carey was, quite literally, hanging off Magnus's every word. Or rather, she was perched up on Magnus's shoulder as he talked like he was a big boulder and she was a lizard soaking in the sun. His shoulder was starting to hurt, but he wasn't about to tell her to get off, because she had just gotten engaged and this was important. He had a sketch pad out in front of him as they discussed ring ideas. He had carved the ones they had used for the engagement, after all. But these had to be better.
"I was thinkin' more like..." Carey held her hand out and made an angle with her fingers. Magnus, honestly, couldn't tell what she was measuring. "Stabby? More stabby? Can you do that?"
"Like, uh, inward stabbing or-"
"No, no," Carey said. "Like, outward stabby, like a cool sword ring. Is that anything?"
"We can try," Magnus said, starting to draw a sword down. Carey shuffled, her feet catching on the back of his shirt slightly. He leaned a little to the right so she'd have more room. Carey made an approving noise at his sword sketch and they fell into a small silence, only filled by the crackling on the fire and the scratch of Magnus's pencil across the page.
After a few minutes, Carey cleared her throat.
"So I was, uhh, I was thinkin'," she said. "I don't know if it's in your skillset or anything-"
"Yes," Magnus said.
"You don't even know what I'm gonna ask!"
"I'm ninety percent sure in my skill set," Magnus said.
"Shut up," Carey laughed, whapping his shoulder. Magnus snickered. "For real, though. I was thinking like, getting these cast in gold? Does that seem silly? Gold looks really good on Killian and she's trusting me with this design so I wanna make it look good, y'know? Is that something you can do or should I find someone else?"
"Hm," Magnus said. He paused his sketch, drawn into his thoughts instead. He must have been quiet for too long, because Carey leaned back a little and asked,
"Magnus? Is that a no, or?"
"No, no," Magnus said, shaking his head. "I mean, yes! Yes, we can do that. We'd have to, uhm. We'd make the wooden ones first, probably, and then make a mold out of those? That'd be easiest."
"I'm down for that," Carey said. "Would you be doing the casting, or?"
"Nah, I'm awful at that," Magnus said with a little laugh. "Julia would have been able to do it. I just- sorry, I was thinking of anyone else who could have that I know and that's- I mean, that was her thing. It's- we can find someone else, I'm sure."
"Hey," Carey said, nudging him with a bone shoulder. "She woulda made the best damn rings in this entire planar system."
"In all of them," Magnus said, smiling. He set his pencil down and fished his wedding ring out from where it was hanging under his shirt. It had worn down over the years, but it still had the intricate they had designed together. Magnus, of course, had down the originals, but they had been destroyed with the rest of Raven's Roost.
He had spent a lot of time thinking about Julia lately. The culmination of Carey and Killian getting engaged and Magnus remembering a hundred years of his life was causing him to reminisce quite a bit. Grief all the way down, sure, but
"Wowza," Carey said, leaning in to look at it. "She did that?"
"Yeah," Magnus said, holding it up to the light. "It's real nice."
"Sure as hell is," Carey said. He tucked it back under his shirt and cleared his throat. Carey patted the shoulder she wasn't laying against. When he picked up his pencil, she continued with, "while we're on the topic I, uh, I had something I wanted to ask you, Mags."
"Go for it," Magnus said, adding unnecessary shading to the sword.
"Me and Kills talked it over and we wanted to ask, if it's okay with you, that we, uhm, we could leave a seat open. For Julia, I mean." Carey paused. "Aw, you're gonna get our sketches all wet with your tears, man."
"Sorry," Magnus said, wiping his eyes. Once more, he put the pencil down. He pushed his chair back a bit and Carey wobbled for a second before he scooped her up into his arms for a big hug. She wheezed a little.
"Is that a yes?" Carey managed. Magnus pulled back and she kicked her feet for a second before he set her back on the ground.
"Yeah," he said. Gods, he needed to keep tissues in here. "It's a yes. I- thank you. You guys didn't have to-"
"But we wanted to," Carey said seriously. "Your family is my family, Mags. Got that?"
"Are we including Merle in this?"
"Unfortunately," Carey said, grinning. She looked a little teary, too. "I love you, man."
"I love you too."
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priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly?
constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you?
priest: you did what...?
constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?
constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know!
and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!!
...
constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way.
— hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"
babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)
anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.
80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.
and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?
hm. i just don't know about all that.
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