rememberettersberg | Open Post: This Is Where The Magic Happens

A new notice has appeared on the welcome table and at several well-traversed locations around the mansion and its grounds. It invites residents to stop by a certain summer house (which has recently sprung into existence on the shore of the lake) if they are interested in the discussion and/or instruction of magic.

Should anyone's curiosity take them in that direction, they'll find Nightingale there with a pot of tea always on the go and a rotating selection of snacks and nibbles. He's started to cultivate (heh) a small library of his own - important texts in the history of his magical tradition, textbooks for the study of a number of dead/archaic languages, and a growing pile of his own notes.

He'll be delighted to catalogue the differences (and similarities) in the way various worlds practice magic, conduct experiments to see if they can use each other's traditions, and (in the case of Laertes and anyone else that seems like they might be a fit candidate) begin some basic magical instruction.

Closed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I was wondering if time was passing at the same rate as here in the worlds we've left behind. If our absences are tangible or if we've been... replaced somehow, like changelings. I know that Enjolras and Grantaire were taken at the same moment, but I haven't thought until now to ask anyone else with cohorts here."

"He knew that I was gone," Lan Wangji says firmly. He also believes entirely that Wei Ying would have known it instantly if he'd been replaced with some pale substitute of himself. One more deliberate pause for thought, and then he adds, "We have been separated¹ before. For thirteen years." The precise time it took his husband to find him did seem a slightly cruel trick, but Lan Wangji was so overcome with weakening relief to see him that he hasn't dwelled on it.

¹Understatement. Wei Wuxian was dead.

"That's terrible, Hanguang-jun. I'm sorry you had to endure it." Nightingale's eyes show his age as he ponders it. "You must have been distraught upon finding yourself here."

"If my husband had not arrived," Lan Wangji agrees, "we would not be speaking right now." He would be speaking to no one. He would be in the woods, burning through all of his spiritual power, trying every desperate measure in every possible universe to force his way back home. It is one thing to grieve a dead man for thirteen years and another to leave a living, breathing Wei Ying who needs him.

He composes himself and plucks his teacup back into his grasp, then looks toward Nightingale again. He knows that Nightingale has left behind at least one person of importance, and would be interested to hear more if he is inclined to share.

"I fought in a war many years ago with tremendous personal losses," Nightingale says. "Imagine 99% of your sect being struck down at once. The future of British magic almost entirely extinguished." He throws back the rest of his tea and pours another cup. "For decades, it was just me and my housekeeper, Molly, rattling around a too-big house." He pauses here, wondering how to explain her. "Molly is... under my protection. She is a non-human creature, although she resembles one, and was rescued before the war from a terrible situation." A sigh. "And so when I returned, we drifted like ghosts. She cooked and cleaned, I did my job when I was called upon. A pale imitation of life for us both."

A pale imitation of life. Lan Wangji can recall the feeling. He takes a measured sip of his tea and doesn't allow his gaze to waver from Nightingale's face. "I understand."

"The last year or so has been very different. Circumstances brought me an apprentice, the first since-- well, the first in more than sixty years. He's reconnected me with the outside world, brought new people into my life, reminded me of existing friendships I'd let wane." He speaks of Peter with an aching fondness. "Molly's life has been tremendously enriched by him as well."

Nightingale lapses into silence for a long time, stirring sugar into his tea far past the point that any further mixing could be achieved. "The day before I arrived here, we had suffered a tremendous betrayal from someone important to us all. The very moment I arrived here, I was escorting a dangerous dark practitioner into safe confinement. Safe confinement at my workplace, which is also my home. I led her directly into the place in which Molly and Peter should be safest and then vanished before she could be secured."

Lan Wangji is, unsurprisingly, perfectly comfortable with silence, and allows Nightingale the time he needs to reach the conclusion of that story. He thinks he understands, too, the basics of it, the feeling of coming back into alignment with the world after long years of disconnection. The sixty years surprises him, but only a little. He himself is trying to cultivate to immortality.

His expression is grim as he takes this in. He frowns. "Your apprentice. Will he be equipped to take on this practitioner without you?"

"He's only a year into his training. In terms of both know-how and power, he is wildly outmatched," Nightingale admits. "But he's a unique thinker and very good at problem-solving on the fly. Lucky, too. He has every chance of prevailing." He sips his tea. "I just wish I knew for certain that he and Molly are all right."

Lan Wangji's frown deepens, only a little. "I will think of them as well." There is essentially nothing he can do for them, but a small amount of additional hope can't do any harm.

"You're a good man, Hanguang-jun. Thank you for coming to visit me today." Nightingale looks vaguely embarrassed by his own bald sincerity, but it needed to be said.

The sincerity of it does touch him, and Lan Wangji's eyes do soften a little in answer to that. "Thank you," he counters evenly. He sips his tea again, determined not to waste a second cup.

Open Post: This Is Where The Magic Happens

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