jokered | week two ♡ thursday ♡ magilou

[the sun is sinking on the evening before die day, but Magilou has yet to return to her own hut. she also has yet to see or hear anything weird or out of place. so when she stumbles across Akira, staring at a fixed spot in space for seemingly no reason, she doesn't think much of it]

[. . . at least, not until she gets a good look at those wide eyes of his, panicked and alarmed at absolutely nothing. she knows that expression (how could she not, after all her training, after all she went through?) and it gets her to stop in her tracks, gaze narrowing]

. . .

Hey, Baby Trickster.

[and she waves a hand in front of his face. HI BUDDY]

[of course, the sights and sounds of morgana in front of him are just a lot to take, so—he doesn't look great, of course.

but hey, at least magilou making that motion is enough to snap akira out of it.]

Wha—

[he shakes his head a little because he's kind of in his face, but looking back where morgana was..

there's nothing?

sure, this is fine.]

[THIS IS VERY FINE]

[. . . at least he snapped out of it very quickly, and for some reason she finds herself relieved?? weird]

Thinkin' a little too hard? [she asks with the small curl of a smile] You seem distracted.

No, it's not that.

[his brows draw together—he doesn't like that feeling. like he's losing his mind a little or something.]

I think my imagination just got away from me for a second there.

You hear about people seeing mirages in the desert, but I suppose a hot and stuffy island is also a good place for them.

[it's only because he seems okay now that she can continue the conversation so flippantly]

[well, she can react flippantly, but obviously... it's bothering akira.]

Maybe this place is really making me crazy.

[. . . she can't really blame him, honestly. she knows what that feels like, when your eyes and ears lie to you, and the divide between illusion and reality becomes so blurry that you can only determine which is truth by following your heart]

[that's why only those with strong hearts tend to survive]

It's far too early for that. Don't tell me I get to collect on my bet already.

I didn't say I was giving in to it.

[she snapped him out of it, so she's helping. good job, magilou!]

It felt really weird. Really... real. [it's bothering him.]

[if there's anything she's good at it's keeping people grounded when it comes to illusions!!]

[but her face suddenly hardens as he describes it, all humor evaporating into thin air. she keeps her eyes leveled on him, watching his reaction, making note of every subtle movement and change in expression]

My. . . our hosts may have more in common with him than I thought.

[he probably knows who she means]

How real? And what was it?

[he nods in understanding. she means melchior, he knows it. it does cause him to give her a curious look—

it seems like there's really so much more to her story he needs to learn.]

Too real. I could have reached out and really thought it was all real if you didn't step in.

["what was it."]

My mascot. [to speak in magilou terms.]

["his mascot." the cat-like character he's described and drawn for her before]

Hm. . . fairly mild, then. ["mild" does not necessarily imply that it was any less disconcerting, though] An interesting play. If this truly is because of them-- [and not some weird island phenomenon or Akira losing his mind] -- I wonder what they gain by making us question the fabric of our reality?

[she hops forward, balancing on one foot, before she spins around and takes a seat next to him. plop]

I could think of a few things.

[he looks straight out ahead of him, even as magilou plops down; his fingers are once again idly twirling the pen, as if to keep busy.]

If the mirages can talk, they can mess with people, encourage them to kill, or maybe place a face on the wrong person.

[...] It's Thursday, you know.

[which means they've got trouble ahead.] Or maybe they're just trying to mess with me more. Who knows.

[as long as he remains focused, then it doesn't matter if he isn't looking at her. that's what she thinks]

All good points, and I suppose someone who kills under cover of an illusion can at least beg for mercy by proclaiming their actions weren't there own.

[but she doesn't sound like she'd be very convinced by such a claim for innocence]

And as for them trying to target you specifically. . . what'd unlucky mirror did you break to be personally targeted like--

Edited 2017-08-17 23:40 (UTC)

[she cuts herself off abruptly]

[there's a lot he probably could say in response, but magilou stops mid-sentence, so...]

—Magilou? [???

that's not like her.]

[it isn't]

[but what also isn't like her is the way she suddenly sucks in a sharp breath. the way both of her hands fly up to the sides of her head, fingers digging into her temples. the way she throws herself to her feet again, shoulders hunched, expression twisted into a mixture between pain and anger]

[because sometimes you hallucinate your super dead Master and that one time he tried to break your brain ig??]

-- not funny!

Edited 2017-08-17 23:58 (UTC)

[...!

yeah, that is definitely alarming in every way. when she moves like that—clearly looking so pained, he can't just do nothing.

akira's never been that way, after all.

so he leaps to his feet to stand in front of her, reaching for her wrists to get a light grip on them and try to call her attention.]

Magilou—Magilou, look at me. [he has no idea what's happening—what she's seeing or feeling right now, but he needs to try and drag her back to reality the way she did for him.]

[most people would probably appreciate being grounded by something as simple as a brush of fingers against their wrist. most people would probably appreciate being brought back to Earth when their mind is a million miles away. illusions can't always be fought alone, and sometimes all it takes is another person to drag one back to the truth before them]

[Magilou isn't most people. the moment Akira catches her wrist, she jerks back]

Don't--

[she knows it isn't real-- is grounded enough to her own reality to be able to see through this particular false projection. but she can still see him and his stupid old face and his glassy monocle and his really dumb hat, standing in front of her, hands extended, and disappointment etched into every one of his wrinkles. it's like she's on Hexen Isle again, curled up on the ground as she weakly maintains a barrier spell, pain pounding on the inside of her skull]

[it really pisses her off]

[she ducks her head, hand burying itself into her hair as she stumbles to the side. weakly, she clarifies, so Akira doesn't misunderstand her refusal]

D-- don't get me wrong, it's awfully nice of you, but-- [a wave of nausea suddenly overcomes her, and she drops to one knee] I gotta. . . do this one on my own.

[it'd be an awfully hard hit on her pride if she lost to him yet again. especially coming off the miserable failure that was last weekend's trial]

[he lets go, of course.

he has to, because he doesn't want to hurt her when she's resisting—that's not the person akira is. but akira is also fierce. he's fierce and determined, and the kind of person who is just completely incapable of letting things be when something is clearly wrong.

so he stays close anyway]

Maybe you want to. [he's not even denying that she probably handle it. she's tough as nails in a lot of ways, and it's admirable.

but what follows is a quiet, firm declaration of his own.] But you don't have to.

[there's no requirement. it's a standard she's imposing on herself—one that akira doesn't see as necessary.]

Just because you've done it before doesn't mean you have now.

[it's a team game, after all. and magilou might not be his partner—but lucina might need her at some point to be willing to cooperate. they have to work together more in general, if they want to survive—and that includes bullshit like this.]

[what the fuck]

[. . . it's completely different than how Velvet and the others approached her. a completely different angle on teamwork than the one she was familiar with. Aifread's Pirates were a bunch of people drawn together by circumstances and similar goals, people with selfish desires that just so happened to lead down the same path. camaraderie, company, and-- dare she think it-- friendship eventually blossomed from that, and the bonds she had forged with all of them were all very important to her. it was the closest she had ever come to caring about people in years. but. . .]

[there had always been that. . . distance. that purposeful distance that she maintained from everyone, even after learning to care about their well-being as individuals and companions. they had respected that. they had given her that space, and honestly, she was fine with it. as such, no one ever told her that she didn't have to do things alone]

[she doesn't know what to do with this]

. . . you really piss me off sometimes. . .

[she slurs her words together as she crouches down on the ground, legs drawn up to her torso, forehead resting on top of her knees. she can't see Melchior anymore (which is likely for the best) but the phantom pain still radiates through her temples, gathers in the backs of her eyes, accompanied by words that remind her that she's a disappointment and a failure god, he can't even leave her alone when he's dead, can he?]

. . . do what you want.

[she won't ask for help, but if he wants to give it, she won't refuse it again]

I have that effect on people.

[pissing them off, he means. he says it gently though—almost teasing to lighten the mood a bit.]

For now... just sit all the way down. It'll be easier.

[more comfortable than crouching, at least. he draws in a quiet breath, moving in to reach for magilou's upper arm and guide her into a more firm position to sit in.

for all that he's sarcastic and full of those sick burns—he can't ignore it when someone needs help, and she's not a person he dislikes at all. so he'll help, so long as she doesn't refuse him.]

...Take your time. [to recover. he'll plop back down next to her too and just wait until she's feeling a bit more like herself.]

[Magilou obliges, leaning back and plopping down into a sitting position with his guidance. she keeps her knees drawn up so she can drape her elbows over them, palms still pressed against her head in a futile attempt to stave off the headache. despite the pain, despite the way Melchior's words try to distract her, draw her in, she can feel Akira's hand against her arm. and it is grounding, a link to the real world that's weirdly warm and kind of. . . comforting. . .]

[she isn't wearing sleeves, and the touch feels like electricity sparking against her skin, actually. similar to his fingers against her cheek and his hand on her head just a few days ago. if she were to venture a guess as to why, she'd chalk it up to the fact that she can't remember the last time someone reached out to her with genuine warmth and affection]

[. . . had anyone other than Bienfu ever done so?]

Uuuuuugh. . .

[the groan is kind of dramatic and very silly, mostly her attempt at lightening the mood and distracting herself from losing sight of what's real, but it's about all she responds with. for now]

[there's something reassuring about the fact that she doesn't refuse his help right now—it's quiet and subtle, but aside from their conversation on saturday night, it's the first time he's felt like he's seen some sort of hint of the sort of person magilou is beneath that very dramatic and uncaring mask.

they all have their secrets.

and that's why, he doesn't press quite ye. not very directly. he doesn't know what she's thinking or feeling, but there was clear pain to it, and even if it's just a lingering phantom—he's willing to be her quiet support in the meanwhile.

it's not really intentional, but akira's touch lingers probably a step longer than necessary before he draws back a bit—but still, he stays close enough that he'll be able to steady her if that happens again.]

One hell of a mirage, huh?

[she seems to be okay, now. the pain in her head slowly fades with Melchior's harsh words, and the next time she looks up, she sees. . . nothing. whatever this was, it was blessedly short-lived. compared to that last time on Hexen Isle? it was easy mode]

[she takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, before she finally lets herself relax, legs stretched out in front of her and hands pressed behind her to hold her upright and her head tilted back against her shoulders]

[she had stopped caring about what Melchior thought of her ages ago, so why does she get the short end of the stick with being reminded of exactly how much of a disappointment she was to him?? was the island trying to tap back into the heartbreak that had died along with Magillanica? ha]

[it'd have to try way harder than that to revive those feelings]

Heeeey. . . I'm a little jealous of your mascot character. . . why couldn't I have one of those instead?

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