dreadinquisitor | Mask or Menace

Soldiers always are. Trust me, I know. Pilots are even worse. [She stepped in, shrugging out of the jacket and tossing it up on a hook.]

Let's get you horizontal, okay? Then you can tell me why you definitely don't look healed, despite going to visit someone that promised they were not trying to murder you.

[He made a slight face - a tug of his mouth, his eyes glancing away - at the world 'soldier.' He didn't feel much like one.

He felt weak. In more ways than one.]

It's magic. An ancient, powerful magic, tied to an alternate realm of existence.

[He said finally, turning to follow Poe, his damaged, ruined hand folded tightly against his chest.]

And there isn't another sole from my world here. ...Not that any but one there could even help.

Edited 2017-12-10 22:49 (UTC)

[She marched him right over to the couch, then gestured for him to sit down.]

I take it that it caused you problems back home too, then, huh.

Can I see it?

Not... like this, typically.

[She has to give him a push, to get him to follow her gesture down, but once he was actually on the couch, he sank into it. The strength he'd gathered to face the door - the front he'd put on - giving out with a low groan.]

...There was always discomfort. Not pain, exactly. I was just never going to forget.... [Gingerly, he unclenched his fingers and opened his fist for her. His hand was hot, joints swollen. His palm was ragged and torn, the flesh where it met the mark ribboning as the power spread. Ate through him.] It's reacting to the Porter. ...Or the Porter was keeping it in check.

Damned if I really know, but that's when it started.

[Poe reached out, very delicately touching his arm, mostly to make sure it was steady while she looked at it.]

Shit, Maxwell. [Her voice was getting a little deeper, but it was unclear if it was emotion or the Valkyrie magic wearing off.]

I've never seen a wound like it. [She frowned and let go of his arm, before reaching out and touching his forehead - yeah. Fever too. Shit.]

It's magic. You said you don't have it where you're from.

[His hand slowly closed again, tucking back against his chest to rest there, rising and falling with his deep, careful breaths. Blinking at her, he tried to smile and succeeded in tugging one corner of his mouth slightly upward.]

Hey, it's okay. You get mixed up with something as powerful and strange as this, you have to kind of figure it will probably catch to you eventually.

You know what that's like.

No. We don't. Not like this, anyway. I guess I just - keep assuming things will look relatively normal, despite that. [She pulled her hand away, looking at him, clearly at a loss. But as he continued, she took in a deep breath, expression firming into something far more determined.]

Well it's not going to catch you today, bud. I might not be able to do anything about magic, but let's bring your fever down, at least. Have you been eating properly?

It gets weirder. [His head rolled over the back of the couch, his eyes drifting shut.] You have no idea.

[Then silence as she scolded him until the long pause after her question had him blinking slowly up at her.]

...I... don't know what I ate last. [A twitch between his eyebrows.] ...Or when.

Yeah. I had a feeling that might be the case. [She says it somewhat drily, but Poe's not about to lecture him.]

[Instead, she stands up and heads for the kitchen.]

Just try to relax, I'll whip you something up.

[His eyes close again.

Solas walking in his dreams. Corypheus crawling out of a Grey Warden, dragging gut behind him. Dorian setting fire to their bedsheets...

He twitches, hand jerking in a painful spasm, and clenches his jaw tight.]

...Did she come back? [He asked suddenly, a murmur from between his teeth.] Your friend. The one that.... I've heard it's not the same here. But maybe.... we can go home.

[When Poe comes back, wringing a damp cloth, the woman is gone, and the man remains.

He doesn't quite manage to keep the grief from his face.]

No. No, she hasn't come back.

[He sat down on the couch next to Maxwell and leaned over to lay the cloth over his brow.]

If she went home... Then she's once again one with the Force.

[Maxwell doesn't really recognize it, his mind far and away. In a castle in the mountains.

When the cool cloth touches his skin for a heartbeat he thinks he feels the breeze again.]

Still a way then.... still a chance.

[His heart breaks, a little, because he's not entirely sure what Maxwell means, but the hazy way he says it Isn't Good.]

There's always a chance, buddy. [He has no idea what he's telling Maxwell there's a chance about, but it's something he believes anyway.]

Are you alone, here? Do you have anyone - has anyone been checking in on you?

No one.

[A whisper on a sigh, a muscle moving in Maxwell's jaw. A pause of several long breaths.]

....Shadow's gone. Hans is... [A twitch that might have been a frown.] Somewhere.

Right. [Poe's lips thinned.]

Look, I think you should stay at my place for a while. We still have empty rooms, and it's just around the corner, but - I think I'd be a lot happier if I knew that you weren't alone.

[Maxwell made a noise, a hum that might have been acquiescence, but then it stopped abruptly.]

It isn't just me. It's harder to control. It keeps - reaching. Beth...

I put Beth in danger.

What do you mean you put Beth in danger? [His voice was low, and a little hard, but not sharp.

Concern, but not accusation.]

She tried to help. The Anchor reacted.

[His fist tightens. He drags in a breath. Holds it.]

I'm not safe.

You're being a little vague there, buddy.

But listen- none of us are safe, right now.

And trust me, I get the draw to self-sacrifice, but you're not doing anyone any favours here. I won't let Beth get hurt.

[The breath comes out with a rough snort.]

I don't think even a templar could make that promise.

[His eyes open. Blink, to focus on Poe.]

....But maybe I'll get to go home.

[Poe just watched him for a long moment, lips thin and brows furrowed.]

I know you're in pain, Maxwell. And - yeah. I hope we get to go home, if anything-- happens here. But you're starting to worry me, bud.

Just hold on, okay? We'll figure this out. We'll get it sorted.

[Maxwell just looks at him for a long moment, his chest rising and falling, light swelling and fading between his fingers, pulsing up his arm. He doesn't really believe Poe, and is just trying to hope for the only thing left to him. ...But then, finally.]

Yeah.

If they can fix the Porter....

[Because that's the hope Poe needs. That he can save them.]

Then they can fix the nanites, and all this mess can be put right. [He sounded firm. Hope unwavering.]

So just hold on. Okay? We'll take care of you, in the meantime.

[He jerks, a rocking motion as there's a snap like lightning, spasming across the back of his hand hand.]

...Starting with hot water pretending to be tea?

I'm sure I'll figure it out, eventually. [But at least that reminded him about the kettle, and with one more hard look at Maxwell he quickly slipped into the kitchen to get the tea.

It wasn't that hard to put a teabag in a cup and fill it with water, he just didn't know how long it needed to be in there. So he just brought it back, without waiting.]

But you need someone to make sure you're actually eating, Maxwell. Being here on your own is not going to help.

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dreadinquisitor - 2017-12-15 17:44 (UTC) - Expand

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