Senkha is doing a crossword puzzle! Because that's what she does.
Macglynn shuts the door behind him. When he doesn't see Senkha downstairs, he looks up and shrugs before removing his blade and cloak. "Y'there?"
Senkha chuckles, setting down her crossword puzzle and calling down the stairs, "No, I ran away. With my fully-functioning legs. I'm halfway to Tanaris by now."
Macglynn says: Well, shit. Na' Ah gotta head back out an' git y'back.
Senkha says: Mm, I'm just trouble like that. Coming upstairs or are you going to make me scoot down on my arse?
Macglynn looks up. "Th' second one'd be funnier."
Oliver would likely hear a heavy shuffling upstairs, along with the footfalls of Senkha's brace. A moment later, one of the pillows comes flying down the stairs, beaning him in the head.
Macglynn ... was not expecting that at all. It smacks him in the face with an audible 'FWUMP' and he takes a step back, catching it in his arms, looking startled. "This is abuse!"
Senkha shuffles back to the bed noisily and calls back downstairs, "I'll be up here, awaiting your revenge with terrified and bated breath."
Macglynn removes his pipe from his bag before letting it drop to the floor beside his blade's point. Senkha would suddenly find a single, tiny beetle flying around her face, doing its best to pester her. Oliver turns to climb the stairs.
Senkha swats at the beetle, not trying to kill it as much as get it away from her face or even catch it in her hand. She wrinkles her nose and blows out air and basically looks completely ridiculous as she does so.
Macglynn reaches the top of the stairs and blinks as he finds his wife flailing around. "Whut th' heck is you doin'?" The beetle expertly dodges her hand, purposefully going to annoying places like her ear so she can hear it buzz.
Senkha continues to try and catch the beetle, hitting herself in the head several times before finally giving Oliver a plaintive look. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry for the pillow!" she protests far louder than she actually needs to. Dat buzzing, man.
Macglynn grins and takes a few long strides toward the bed, hands clasped behind his back. "Ah'm very happy t' hear that!" The buzzing ceases. The beetle is nowhere to be seen.
Senkha now frowns, looking around for any sign of the beetle. "Light, it didn't bore into my head, did it?" She sounds slightly panicked; unwittingly, the memory of Apophan's snake boring into Strahm's head flashes across her mind.
Macglynn blinks. The beetle crawls out harmlessly from behind her ear and onto her cheek, where it flicks its wings and takes off back toward Oliver. He cants his head, his grin a softer smile now. "Think yuh'd feel that."
Macglynn circles a finger around the top of his head, indicating bug-boring. "Kinna hard t'miss."
Senkha 's cheeks flush and she laughs sheepishly. "Probably," she agrees, tilting her head to the side. "I need to start getting used to your bugs playing tricks on me. I think they've inherited your mischief."
Macglynn chuckles. The bug returns to him and disappears beneath his bandana as he steps forward to seat himself on the bedside.
Macglynn says: Naw, that was jus' me.
Senkha smirks and sits up enough to lean against Oliver, because cold, undead, husband in plate is more comfortable than cushy pillows. "Just you, huh?" she teases, kissing his cheek. "How are 'just you'?"
Macglynn says: Well, Ah s'pose Ah'm jus' fahn.
Macglynn smirks slyly at you.
Macglynn says: Think Ah owe y'some practice.
Senkha says: So you got things sorted then?
Senkha smiles at Oliver hopefully.
Macglynn says: Y'could say Ah did.
Senkha 's smile grows wider. There's a sense of curiosity to her, and she very clearly wants to ask for details, but instead, she simply presses another kiss to Oliver's cheek and says, "I'm proud of you. I'm so proud of you."
Macglynn 's smile weakens as she kisses his cheek, and he straightens the way he sits. "So we gunna try this na'?"
Senkha pushes aside her curiosities and just smiles at Oliver, shifting again to sit back against the pillow. "Yes. Whenever you're ready."
Macglynn gives a short nod. Just as before, he's quick to enter the depths of her mind, and it's still an unpleasant experience. He hesitates before doing anything, but taking the risk, he peers into her memories with an open gaze.
Senkha is still stuck on that memory of the snake being forced into Strahm's mind. It's a bizarre memory--warped and melting like a Dali painting, voices going too slow and too fast, everything very hot and thirsty. The only thing that comes through clearly is Strahm's scream of agony as the snake bores into his mind, all while the Apophan is laughing hysterically.
Macglynn does nothing to interfere with these memories, but he does look for something brighter. Forcefully, like he's demanding it of her mind, he shifts to more cherished memories. "Ain't here fer none 'a that," he mutters, as if justifying himself.
Almost instantly, their music is playing. His cold arms are around her, but not around her. It's dark, and there's a great deal of pain throughout. She's crying. He's crying. But despite this, she feels safe and loved.
Macglynn wraps his arms around her to match, picking at her thoughts to get deeper. -Why are even your good memories so dark?- He stops searching as a curiosity overcomes him. The memories are harshly discarded and he instead looks to dreams. Perhaps, he thinks, he can find what she hopes to have, not what's preventing her from having it.
Some of her dreams are hazed over; she's not proud of them and doesn't want to share with the class. Most of them have to do with him being alive. Some involve her walking again. Most are just simple things: family, friends. People not getting hurt or lost or leaving. Not having to worry about waking up one morning and being back alone in Theramore.
Macglynn 's very much interested in those that she's unwilling to share, though it pains him to admit that to himself. With his inexperience, the sheer desire to see them is enough to will them open to him. With the grace of a buffalo his mind tries to gaze into what's in these thoughts, and he's hardly aware he's doing it. He becomes aware quickly, though. He holds back, prying gently. "Let me see," he asks.
Fair is fair, after all; Senkha reluctantly removes some of the haze. She dreams about Oliver being alive again, really alive, because he was so happy the last time. Not putting on a show happy, really happy. She dreams of working alongside Marius and training people like herself, but she'd have to have thousands of years to master her mind that way, and she doesn't have that. She only has maybe sixty more at the most, and at this rate... She dreams of Dizzy's mental problems going away, of her being a normal sixteen-year-old girl with normal sixteen-year-old girl problems. She dreams-- there's so much haze over this one. She thinks he would probably guess it anyway.
Macglynn does guess, but his curiosity drives him to try and peel away the haze just the same. The pain is lessening, though still present, as he grows more accustomed to doing this with no ill intent.
--the last time you found this, you tried to kill me.-- Senkha is putting up a tiny bit of a struggle, though not much of one. Fair -is- fair, though: she lets him peel back the haze, and of course, he can see that she wants to be like him. Not undead. Not dependent on a runeblade. Not damned ("though I am already, so that's kind of..." HAZE). But everyone she loves has hundreds of years. Thousands. And she has maybe a few decades, if that. Along with these thoughts is a pervading sense of shame. She knows it's wrong to want this. She knows he hates that she wants this. She wishes she didn't.
Macglynn is not in the least bit surprised and forces away a racuous laugh in the back of his own mind. Giving a sigh, he withdraws until it's her real face he sees. While he's gained some skill in searching, the removal is still a painful experience.
Macglynn says: ... Hey. Uh.
Macglynn looks at you.
Macglynn says: Question.
Senkha opens her eyes and looks at Oliver. She still looks vaguely embarrassed, as if he's just seen her popping bacne or something else gross. "Mm."
Macglynn holds up a finger. He then proceeds to remove his pauldrons, gauntlets, and tabard, leaving him only in his chestplate. He uncinches the buckles, and the layers fall away to reveal a deep, black, ugly wound just below his shoulder. Thousands of beetles also skitter inside a hole just under his ribcage as the light hits them. He looks at the wound, then at her. "Got this in th' woods t'day. Could y'help with it, maybe?"
Senkha blinks at the two injuries and, after a moment, nods. "Alright," she answers quietly, closing her eyes. Without much more warning, Oliver would feel the peculiar sensation of Senkha in his very bones again, only this time, she's seeking out those two wounds and pulling the flesh together. It's more difficult with dead flesh than with living; instead of generating new cells, the skin has to be pulled together, the wound unmade. It takes her longer than it usually would, this puzzle, but several minutes later, the wound on his shoulder is nearly entirely sealed, and the one under his ribcage looks much better. "How do you normally seal your wounds?" she wonders. "Blood magic?"
Macglynn looks down at the giant hole beneath his ribcage. "Huh. Been a while since Ah seen that one full closed up." He touches his hand to the newly stitched flesh under his shoulder and smiles. "Thanks. An' not really- unholy magic. Ain't so diffrint from shadow. Keeps me t'gether, too."
Senkha frowns thoughtfully. She's still trying to tug at the edges of his wounds to close them entirely and, after another several minutes of tugging, manages to close the wound under his ribcage. "I'll get the hang of it sooner or later, I suppose. It's hard when I have to tell your body to do something that it doesn't do naturally."
Macglynn laughs, his muscles twitching at the bizarre sensation of her being in his bones. "Ah'd argyuh there ain't nuthin' m'body -does- do natur'ly." He looks down again at the torso wound. Something really large moves around underneath it and he rolls his eyes.
Macglynn says: ... Y'kin give up on that one, Senkha.
Macglynn says: 'S been there a while na'.
Senkha withdraws, frowning at the wound still and muttering something about having to practice. "It's...a lot of energy. But it's mostly like surgery. I'd have to employ shadow magic to -really- get things to close, but I don't know if I'm capable."
Macglynn sighs, leaning over again to wrap his now bare, clammy arm around her shoulder. The torso wound she just sealed suddenly bursts open, the beetles reopening the entry to their home. "Ah'm gunna curse m'self fer sayin' this, but y'could try."
Senkha looks reluctant and shakes her head, eyeing the reopened wound with contempt. "I don't think I could. I've never been able to use any sort of magic...if I had, I'd have been able to set things on fire like Selvie, and then we wouldn't be here. Which. I mean. I'm glad we are. But I'm just saying, you know. I... hnnn."
Macglynn says: This ain't magic t' you?
Senkha says: No. It's... I can't explain it. It's more forcing my will on your mind and body. If that makes sense.
Macglynn says: Ah think magic sounds more pleas'nt.
Senkha shakes her head, pressing her hands to her eyes. "No, it -can't- be... I... I need to ask Marius about this." For some reason, the idea of her abilities being anything like magic is very upsetting.
Macglynn furrows his brow and looks at his wife with a frown. "Them assholes y'grew up with usin' magic don't make it a bad thing, Senkha."
Senkha shakes her head again. "It's not magic," she states firmly. "Magic is...it's different from this. This is just... it's my brain being too big for my head. That's all."
Macglynn holds his hand out in front of her and gives her a sad smile. The moist air gives him plenty to work with, and the water collects above his hand in a shape that resembles a rosebud. It falls into his hand. "Even Ah kin admit not ever'thin' Ah got is terrible."
Senkha looks at the rosebud, frowning softly. "Magic is divided into two categories: divine and arcane. The ability to do divine magic is a gift from the Light, the gods, or faith. Arcane magic... that's fire. And frost. And the bending of time and space itself." She sounds like she's reciting things that she's known for a long time but hasn't thought much about in that time. "If this is divine, then...who? But it couldn't be divine, because I follow the Light, and it's not Light. And if it's arcane..." She drops her hands on her lap helplessly, looking wounded. "...where was it twenty years ago when I needed it?"
Macglynn says: Th' world lahks t' screw us that way.
Macglynn takes his arm off her shoulders and sits back. Indeed, he's a good example.
Senkha says: -Why-? If this is arcane, why can't I conjure a flame? Or make a rose out of ice? I just... and if it's divine, -who-?
Senkha leans her head on Oliver's disgusting, plague-ridden shoulder, not caring a whit for the dried blight there. "I wish Marius was still speaking to me. I wish... oh Oliver, what if it's... oh Light." She covers her eyes with her hands again, groaning.
Macglynn looks down at her and quickly reaches a hand up to stop her, but not quick enough. He presses his brows together out of concern, but he instead just lets her talk, placing a hand over the back of her head. "Didn' write that letter yet, hm," he grumbles.
Senkha shakes her head. "I keep trying, but every time I try, it comes out like I'm complaining. I don't want to complain. I want to say 'I'm sorry, even though I don't know what I did, and you should come have binary brew with us.'"
Senkha says: ...what if it's the Old Gods? What if that's the divine magic I'm tapping into?
Macglynn says: Senkha, y'ain't turnin' circles on th' floor talkin'a yerself in a language nobody kin unnerstand. Y'ain't channelin' Old Gods. As fer Maryus...
Macglynn says: Dun' do neither. Ask 'im ha' 'e is. Ha' things is holdin' up in court. Jus' be 'is friend lahk y'always been.
Macglynn says: More'n that, obviously, sure 'e's heared enough about that, but y'know whut Ah mean.
Macglynn says: "It's been a while since we talked. Ah worry 'bout you."
Macglynn shrugs.
Senkha drops her hands and stares at Oliver as if he's just given her the answer to life, the universe, and everything. "When did you get so smart?" she asks, still leaning her head against his shoulder. "I feel like an idiot for not thinking of that myself."
Macglynn blinks at you.
Macglynn says: Uh...
Senkha says: I'm sitting here, trying to write all of these letters explaining myself, when really, I should've been asking how he is.
Macglynn says: This ain't sarcasm, is it?
Senkha says: Not at all. I'm just... I can't believe I didn't think of that myself.
Macglynn says: Oh. Well.
Macglynn says: Y'should do that.
Macglynn nods.
Senkha sags, looking somewhat defeated. "I've been so selfish since waking up, haven't I?"
Macglynn says: If y'got a big enough load on yer back, it's hard ta think 'bout anythin' but it.
Senkha says: ...hnn. I know I need to be here, but... Light, I feel like a horrible person for it.
Macglynn says: D'y'feel ready ta go back?
NO NO NO NO NO, screams Senkha's brain. "...I don't feel ready. I feel...obligated. Like I'm letting people down. Like it's selfish of me to be here." After a moment, she adds in a softer voice, "Like on Gin and Lisa's farm."
Macglynn says: Hmm.
Macglynn says: Ah'm a ter'ble person'a give advice here, 'cause Ah'd prob'ly feel th' same way!
Macglynn looks at her and smiles. "But Ah tell y'whut Ah hear that shit's all turned ta a puh-litical drama fest an' ever'body's regrettin' bein' involved."
Macglynn points to his comm ring. Hours of entertainment.
Senkha finally gives Oliver a small smile. "I know you would. And has it? What've you heard?"
Macglynn says: Ah been ketchin' bits an' pieces. Somethin' 'bout a bomb threat, folk leavin' Sigil ta git away from this... sounds lahk folk is done with these games.
Senkha says: Maybe it's a good time to invite Marius down here to visit, then, so he can get away from it all. Maybe I could find some contacts to ship in some Binary Brew and we could sit on the beach and be drunk.
Macglynn says: Y'should ask 'im!
Macglynn says: ... In yer second letter.
Senkha says: ...the second letter.
Macglynn says: Well jus sayin', y'dunno ha' things is. A invaht t' go drinkin' may have bad tahmin' if'n y'ain't sure.
Macglynn nods as if he knows this from experience.
Senkha says: Have you done such a thing before?
Macglynn says: ... Aye, wrote a bud sayin' we should git shitfaced sometahm. Wrote me back sayin' 'is wife an' kids was killed by a bear an' 'e didn' much care ter.
Macglynn looks at Senkha with a Very Serious expression.
Senkha says: ...if you and Dizzy were killed by a bear, I would be shitfaced -before- anyone could write to me.
Senkha says: That said, it's very good that we're not in Dalaran. They have far too much alcohol available far too readily.
Macglynn points at a cabinet across the room. "Ah made sure t'bring m'self home enough fer years ta come."
Senkha says: Well that's good. At least I won't drink alone for years to come then. Only drunks drink alone.
Senkha nods sagely.
Macglynn says: When there's two 'a us, we's alcoholics.
Senkha sighs quietly and looks up at Oliver. "May I... hnn. I don't want to probe. I know that you don't like it very much."
Macglynn says: May y'whut.
Senkha says: ...look in your mind.
Macglynn looks at her curiously. "Fer why?"
Senkha 's mouth twists a little bit. "Because I like getting to know your stories. You had a happier life before than I did, and...well, it's nice to see. Makes me happy to see it."
Macglynn thinks, and even seems ready to respond, that it shouldn't matter- she's happy now, right? Except then he remembers that she's just short of miserable most of the time and closes his eyes. "Go fer it, Ah guess."
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