Post-Battle Interlude

[rememberettersberg]

As the last of the zombies disperse, dust fading in the chill air, so too does Thomas' mood, the manic good humour that had kept him going all day. Every part of his body hurts, the solid ache of extended exertion, and he knows that he must look as awful as he feels. A mirror reveals the grim reflection of a past age; Captain Nightingale, awash with blood and mud, clothes torn to rags and skin caked with grime.

He strips without thinking much of it, dives into the freezing shock of the lake's still depths, and swims until his aches turn into leaden exhaustion. A part of him, as always when near open water, reaches out in search of its spirit but encounters only dank emptiness. Usually this would bother him, but tonight it feels right, apt.

There's a towel on the shore when he emerges, one he didn't leave there, and he wonders at the mansion all over again. Hordes of undead by day, the comfort of a fresh and fluffy towel at night. His lakeside office glows with warm light and the promise of fresh tea. He trudges towards it without conscious thought, mind half a century away.

Not primarily an open post, but he'll talk if anyone turns up.

Comments

[rememberettersberg]

"Words are both your weapon and your shield," Nightingale says. "The world would be a far worse place if everyone was bred for battle only."

[wickedwit]

“You are quite the charmer,” Claudius says after a moment’s staring, a reddening flush creeping in from behind his ears. Thank you, he should say, for telling him something Claudius only tells himself in bitterness, when he has to fend off a life’s worth of being called cowardly and inferior.

[rememberettersberg]

"Nonsense, I'm just observing a fact," Nightingale says placidly, though one side of his mouth is tugging up slightly in a smile.

[wickedwit]

"Ah, yes. Another simple observation from a man who observes from a living," Claudius says, his smile open and teasing. "Any inclining towards desire yet?"

[rememberettersberg]

He laughs softly. "I'm exhausted. Too wrung out even to be embarrassed about this conversation, therefore certainly in no fit state to contemplate anything else." He looks down at his hands, slightly blistered from a day of fire and force, and grows solemn. "I enjoyed myself today, to tell the truth. But the aftermath has brought the past back into focus, and there is very little joy in revisiting Captain Nightingale."

[wickedwit]

"No, I don't imagine there would be. In-between all my graceless flirting back at the library ... I did mean what I said. " His face softens. "I understand how war can take away a man's understanding of himself. Captain Nightingale sounds like someone you had to become, not someone you enjoyed being."

[rememberettersberg]

"It was a fool's errand from the start. Such a waste of life." He sighs and gropes for a near-empty hip flask tucked behind the cushion of his chair, downing the remains of it in one deep swallow. "No matter. It's history now and not even the history of the world I'm in. Have you come to return my jacket, good sir?" Nightingale affects a rakish grin with moderate success.

[wickedwit]

"You've figured out my ploy," Claudius says with a smirk, holding it up with a wave of his well-healed arm. "I was going to keep it for myself. But then I realized what a fine excuse it gave me to visit you." And see how you were, and how you were bearing the weight of any reminders of war.

[rememberettersberg]

"And here you are." Nightingale barely stifles a yawn. "I imagine I'm quite the disappointment at this moment."

[wickedwit]

Wryly, Claudius says, "No, it's quite satisfying. I'm never at my best advantage with you -- now I see thou canst tire like other men, and thou wilt not always be the abler and wiser one in our acquaintance. And I do like thy music." Tilting his head, he asks, "Dost thou dance?"

[rememberettersberg]

"Not if I can help it," Nightingale grumbles. He won't remark on Claudius' change of language, but it has been noted. "I expect you have a whole repertoire of courtly set pieces."

[wickedwit]

"Oh, yes -- and I always learn the latest." Claudius smirks. "Hast thou danced, when thou couldst not help it? To music like this?"

[rememberettersberg]

"I cannot confirm or deny." Nightingale smirks right back, almost entirely genuine. "You'll have to wait for the next time a truth spell sends us all reeling."

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs. "Thou should not tempt me, lest I tempt the mansion's forces into sending us another truth spell. Crowley and I speculated about what's keeping us here, and sending undead from the woods. His theory is that we're here for something's entertainment, and that I'm one of the more entertaining characters." He smirks, because that's a level of negotiation he hasn't tried: negotiation with silent, god-like forces watching over everything. If he could make them think it's more entertaining to make another truth spell happen, and he made sure to run into Nightingale ...<sup>1

1</sup> Claudius. Claudius, please. This meta lever is not for you.

[rememberettersberg]

Nightingale sits bolt upright, surging with sudden enthusiasm. "I've just been saying something similar to Susan. This is a game of sorts and we are the pieces. The only remedy, it would seem, is to be so terribly boring that they lose interest." He laughs. "I'm not sure how many of the residents here could manage that."

[wickedwit]

Claudius takes smiling note of Nightingale's restored energy when connecting two threads of speculation. It's a charming trait, to add to the other charming traits. "We're such different men, Nightingale," he says, even if they share the pleasure of connecting dots. "I was envisioning a remedy wherein I become as charming and entertaining as possible, to tempt the forces into acting more directly, so we can use them in some way to our advantage. Crowley thinks they may be influenceable -- he'd expressed some impassioned criticism in their direction before the zombie attack. If they lose interest with us altogether, they might leave us here like toys in a toybox to languish." He adds, "We think the forces know us through stories that have been told about us, before they pulled us here. I have my play, Crowley has Original Sin, and I wouldn't be surprised if Susan's Narnia was in a book like Queen Janet's Fillory. And you've led an interesting enough life. Someone's surely telling stories about you. You're someone's favorite character."

[rememberettersberg]

Nightingale's face expresses grave doubt that he would be anyone's favourite, and yet-- "Narnia is from a book series," he says slowly. "A very famous one. And Shen Qingqiu told me he'd been sucked into a story. And of course there are Arthurians here." He stands up and starts pacing.

"Les Miserables!" he near-yells after several turns around the room. "Isn't that about the student uprisings in France? Enjolras and Grantaire! I've not read it but I think that's right. If it is right, then Aziraphale won't be able to conjure a copy." He looks to be on the verge of running out in search of an angel right at this moment, but restrains himself with some difficulty.

[wickedwit]

Now this, Claudius thinks, is Nightingale in his element. Seeing him command flames and conjure invisible barriers to protect Claudius was attractive enough, but seeing him pace and piece together a mystery is even more appealing. "Walk me back a bit, Nightingale," he says fondly. "Am I to take it Aziraphale can't conjure books the residents here have been in? That's very telling. I myself wasn’t able to find a copy of Hamlet among Shakespeare’s works, and in a book of his complete works, a number of the pages were blank. But I don’t have angelic powers like Aziraphale does. That makes it easy enough to test."

[rememberettersberg]

"Yes, he was actually looking for Hamlet when I spoke to him last." Nightingale chuckles. "To remind Crowley of them watching it together, I believe."

[wickedwit]

“Crowley,” Claudius says, also fondly, “doesn’t remember a thing about Hamlet because he was too busy attending to Aziraphale’s happiness to attend the plot of the play. He performed a minor miracle to make the play succeed, in secret. It’s quite sweet, even it led to my infamy.”

[rememberettersberg]

Nightingale shakes his head, amused and rueful at once. "Such strange connections binding us all together. We'll have to find Aziraphale, test this theory out. It makes a wild sort of sense, though perhaps that's just this very long day talking."

[wickedwit]

"Isn't it a common investigate technique, to first find out what connects the victims? I know nearly everyone here, and I make a point of knowing all their stories¹. Aziraphale himself is a rare books dealer. It's a perfect combination of skills." Which is rather pleasing for Claudius to discover, after remarking on his own uselessness. Nightingale knows investigations, Aziraphale knows books, and Claudius knows everyone's business. "We'll seek him out on the morrow. Take thy rest, Nightingale."

¹ Except SecUnit, he couldn't tell you what's up with SecUnit. Security Consultant, tall, brusque, that's all of it. And Gu Xiang might've been a strange vision brought on by a blood loss.

[rememberettersberg]

"We'll make an excellent team." Nightingale looks very much inclined to sleep where he's sitting. "Good night, Claudius."

[wickedwit]

“Take thy rest in a bed, an thou canst manage it," Claudius teases. He’d smooth back Nightingale's hair and kiss his forehead, but there's no life-or-death situation propelling it. But then again ... propelling himself with a push from the table, Claudius leans over Nightingale's chair, and does just that. “Fare thee well,” he says, and takes his leave.