dreadinquisitor | Mask or Menace

I'm actually at Poe's, at the moment. I don't really have anyone. He refused to leave me alone.

that makes sense i have something to drop off for poe anyway sounds like you have poe now, at least

And, maybe, that guy that owes me for the bow lessons. I call him a friend when he's not looking.

this level of subterfuge..................... i heard on whispers of the wind he calls you a friend too

That's why one should always read the fine print. Next thing you know, your friends with the weird magic guy, and he's all 'come have tea with me, I like your company.' Madness.

horrible! awful! anyway i'm here. knocking. listen here i am knock knock knock

[And he's there, a few moments later, opening the door. He feels slightly less like death, but still, to be fair, bares a strong resemblance to it. His skin is still ashen, tinged faintly of green, the veins beneath are still strangely discolored, tracking up into his jaw. There are dark circles under his pale eyes, like bruises, and in even these few weeks he's clearly lost weight.

But he isn't jerking with pain like he was, and The Anchor isn't spitting angrily. It merely glows, brightly, but calmly from his ragged and dark left palm.

And he smiles, small and bit tired, but a real smile.]

About time.

Welcome to Poe's.

[He steps back to let Archie in. Behind him there's a couch in the living room covered in a rumpled blanket and a severely squashed pillow, Maxwell's communicator resting on the nearby coffee-table.]

Yo.

[he doesn't say anything, but it's clear in archie's expression that he's a little shocked to see maxwell looking the way he does.]

Thanks. [he holds up the box of tea he got-- just some herbal stuff. not mint.] This okay?

Perfect.

[He smiles again, one that slides a little wry as he guesses what Archie is thinking.]

It looks bad, but it was worse. ...I made it to the door today.

[He turns and starts away. His stride is shorter, and slower, than normal, but he's not wobbling today.]

Kitchen's this way.

[he holds his hand up, rainbow healing aura floating around it. archie wiggles his fingers.]

Lemme know if you want me to throw some rainbows on you. For healing.

[said as he follows... a little close, maybe too obviously ready to help max if he needs it.]

Hopefully, this is the turn around. And I just need-- [They reach the kitchen and he grips the counter edge with his free hand.]-- rest.

Save your strength, there are bound to be more in worse need than me.

[He thinks of Poe's friend, the one taken away to the hospital.]

[archie puts a hand on his back briefly as he passes him into the kitchen, unloading his stuff on the counter.]

I'm not the only one. Nothin' bad is gonna happen if I do it to you over a cup of tea.

[It's different from the healing he knows (rainbows, really?), but it isn't unpleasant. A warm pressure, like a shoulder of support to lean against.

His eyes drift shut for a moment.]

You've gotten better at it.

Edited 2017-12-17 21:17 (UTC)

[he reaches his hand out, poking max in the cheek with his finger.]

Comes with practice.

[and people dying around him.]

On one hand, I'm glad for you. On the other--

[He makes a bit of a face, the eye above Archie's finger squeezing shut as the the spread. His jaw was sore, and the touch helped as it had with his back, but the discoloration remained. Stubbornly dark veins and grey-tinged skin.

There was simply some magic that couldn't done away easily. For some things, there was only time.]

I'm sorry you've had to.

[hot take: archie has dark circles for miles thanks to chronic insomnia. FACE PAINT SOLVES ALL PROBLEMS especially when you literally just dunk a brush in pot and make a giant X on your face. he's a genius.

not that he'd ever mention this. it's easier to heal when people can't entirely see how tired you are.

archie lets his hand drop to his side again.]

It is what it is. Y'got a kettle or do I have to make it on the stove like a caveman?

[A small laugh, little more than an exhale through his nose, but still with actual humor.]

As it's Poe's house, and he's really just grasped that the bag needs to go into the cup.... [He slants a smile at Archie.] Sorry. Do you regret coming yet?

Edited 2017-12-17 22:39 (UTC)

Ugh. Ugh! UUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhno I can work with that. Point me to the cabinet with pots and the one with mugs. Or the single one if they're in the same area.

[he groans again, childishly, over the top.]

UghhhhhhhhhPoeeee why'd you be like this!!

From a world where they can fly among the stars but don't appreciate a cup of finely crafted tea. The heathens.

[Maxwell teases, finding a chair to sink in. Close enough to watch and hold conversation, but out from underfoot where he'd be more of a hindrance than anything.]

There. The left one, I think.

[Admittedly, his coherent hours recently hadn't really been spent memorizing the kitchen layout.]

Horrible. I'm getting him a kettle for Christmas.

[he rummages around, pulling out what he needs and pads over to the sink to fill it up. exciting.]

What happened to ya? Nanites bugger up old wounds, or somethin'?

[Maxwell snorts gently, another not quite laugh, and turns his wrist. The Anchor flashes brightly.]

The interdimensial gift that keeps on giving. It was either very upset that the Porter was offline, or very pleased... [A small frown, a vee momentarily pulling downward between his eyebrows, before he shrugs it away.] I haven't quite decided yet.

[he stops what he's doing for a moment, Peeping That Anchor.]

Huh. Did you get it from the Porter?

No. [He shakes his head.] It's from my world. A bit of ancient and arcane magic.

[He gestures with it, a small movement, before it lowers again.]

A long story.

[he can't help but look down at his own hand for a moment. sometimes, on bad days, he can almost feel the orb still. maybe he should've had the sigil burned into his hand, too. as a reminder.

archie shakes his head, dispelling the thoughts.]

Ain't that always the way with magic? [he puts the pan on the stove to boil the water.] Ancient, confusing and oft-times stupid as fuck.

[A chuckle, a hint of the handsome laugh he was capable of on better days.]

And never a manual to go with. [Then a bit of a grin.] It's almost like it's not supposed to be trifled with or something.

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