withintenfeet | TLV Inbox

Maggie's lips quirk into a crooked smile. "Pre-Rising, people only microchipped their pets, not their children. Even post-Rising, it's not especially common. So from the background half of this ship came from, it's disconcerting." But not really important right now.

"Also lovely," she tells him when he points out the painting, her voice soft and warm, appreciative with a touch of reverence. She loves it when people manage to capture care and emotion properly. She knows there has to be a heavy dose of grief there, with the strain in his voice. She recognizes that tone well enough - after Buffy, after Dave. And she hadn't even settled down and built a life with either of them. (The voice in her head whispering 'maybe' about Dave, if Iris can go back and save him like she offered to, needs to quiet down. At least until she has him back and she's made sure she won't wreck Dave and Alaric's friendship by staying with one or both of them.)

With how clearly parts of his life are written on the walls, she's grateful Zerxus was willing to invite her in at all.

He is trying to imagine, gazing at that portrait, what it would have been like if they had the chance to keep raising Elias together, in a world that wasn't broken. Avalir was one of the safest places to do that, at least when it came to physical danger, but how long would it have taken for their son to start taking risks every time the city stopped, and he could experience the rest of the world?

Laerryn didn't really consider herself his mother - he was Evandrin's son, and then Zerxus's as well - but oh, she'd have whipped up a marvel of arcane ingenuity just to alert them the moment his breath so much as hitched, and if he was ever in real danger -

"We would probably have driven him insane." His voice is rough, and he swallows hard before tearing his eyes away from the past and heading towards the sofa, which Tempus is already lounging in front of. "Ah - you can sit anywhere, obviously. And let me know if you want - tea, or water, or - "

It is painfully obvious that entertaining guests is not a skill he's had to keep honed.

Maggie folds herself into a chair. "Tea later, maybe. In the meantime, I would like to drink my feelings about being left behind again. ...If you're still sure you don't mind babysitting in case I wind up an angry drunk wolf. Or transform and start howling, or something. Not that that isn't a valid coping mechanism, but I'd prefer to do it in the Enclosure, or at least out on deck, like a considerate neighbor."

His sympathetic grimace shifts into something gently wry as he shakes his head. "I honestly don't. For a long time a lot of my neighbours were druids."

A moment later, when he realises she probably doesn't have the context for that explanation, "They can also turn into wolves whenever they like, at least if they've seen one before."

Maggie laughs softly. "Well, at least I came to the right place."

She pulls a bottle of tequila from her bag, because even though she won't even make a dent in it, just a few sips at her lowered tolerance (the bottle will be drunk mostly by Iris, she's sure), she wanted something with a kick. Something she could feel going down. No mellow red wine today.

"I brought enough baggage about losing people with me. And the thing that eats at me the most is... I have a girlfriend with a ship that could take me anywhere and anywhen. Transportation is sorted. But until I have a deal safely in hand, this is it. I can't even promise visits; my virus is airborne back home, and the only reason it isn't here is weird Barge magic. I visit anyone, or anyone visits me, I doom their whole world. So every time someone I love leaves absolutely guts me. And then I feel guilty because my inmate feels guilty, and he has enough damn pressure on him already without me adding to it."

His expression is already sympathetic, but it strengthens into a grimace by the end; it's hard, knowing your pain can worsen someone else's, someone you're responsible for.

There are two lives he remembers, now, where he tried to be strong for Elias. He did well enough in the first, but the latest, in this port - well, there's a reason he's reaching over to grab his own bottle.

"The Barge is harder on him than most of us." There's an aimless, helpless frustration in his voice. "And it isn't really anyone's fault, except maybe the Admiral's." Even then, his tone lacks the harshness it once would have had. He's starting to believe the Admiral really is doing his best, and that does matter even when it falls short.

"I think - venting like this, with other people, is probably the best thing you can do." It's certainly a healthier option than he's ever taken.

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