[Noah had tried his best to disappear for the last two days, hiding in cracks and crevices in the walls, peering out from beneath sofas as his friends' feet shuffled past. But at last, on the third day, he slides out from the chimney and into the cool sky, desperate to get away, to see a different set of faces look at him in concern and horror.
The treehouse is almost done, just a few days from completion before this awful transformation hit. Noah pours in through an open window. The magic feels so different here, breathless and beautiful, tingling skin he no longer has. It doesn't quell the pain and fear, though, and he immediately zips under a piece of furniture, letting out a low whimper.
He came here for solace, but even in the afternoon light he doesn't want Magnus and Alex to see him.]
[Magnus had come in only moments earlier, dirt-covered, hair tied up in a messy ponytail. in jean shorts and a dusty t-shirt, he's been working in the garden a lot, in preparation for the housewarming party -- coaxing tomato plants to flourish so Alex can make the best dishes, painstakingly growing a crop of corn for the maze. having washed his hands off in the bathroom sink, he moves to the kitchen to grab something to drink from the fridge. he thinks there's pink lemonade left, and that sounds -- ]
[ -- what was that?]
...Alex?
[it's not as odd a question as it could be. after all, Alex could be, at any given time, any animal in the animal kingdom, to squawk, hiss, growl, and whimper at him. he closes the fridge, pacing into the living room, where the fireplace is surrounded by some comfy chairs. he feels like it came from over here. if not Alex, maybe it's a pokemon? more and more of them seemed to keep popping up, around here]
[Noah moans it miserably from under the sofa, half out loud and half in Magnus' head. He's in between spectral and spiritual, on the edge of two planes.]
[it's an odd echo, a double-voice, a neither-voice, that he feels in his teeth. Magnus blinks rapidly, looking over to where he thinks Noah's voice was coming from, if not somewhere in his jaw. he sits on the floor, in front of the sofa, but doesn't look under, just yet. there's a reason Noah is under his sofa, and not coming out, just yet. he can wait]
For what? Are you okay, Noah? [...] Did something happen?
[That was different, Noah wants to say. Magnus' old body was at least normal. But he doesn't have the energy for an argument, or even for a breakdown. Instead, he gives a little murmur of assent.
The thing under the couch is not human. It might have been, once, a long time ago, but now it's little more than a thought. The rotting tendrils of a long-dead soul weave around bare bones, still dusted with the dirt of a shallow grave. Hollows in place of his warm eyes, a crushed face where freckled skin used to stretch with eager smiles - it is a thing of nightmares.]
[Magnus crawls under the couch, with the nightmare-thing that is one of his closest friends, in this universe. pillowing his head on his arms, he looks at him -- because Magnus can't, won't, ever think of any of his friends as an it, even the ones that are enchanted objects or walking bones -- and looks, and after a moment, holds his hand out, slow]
I already knew you were dead, Noah. Do you want to hold hands, for a bit?
[Magnus covers the not-hand with his own, and he's warm to the touch, if Noah can feel anything. it's not fair, the kind of dead Noah is. whether he can or can't feel, Magnus is gentle, when he squeezes bones that clack together]
[he shifts closer, to that shivering-flickering-nightmare, that is his friend Noah]
You're not being killed again. You're not nothing. You're still here, and I'm glad you are. And we'll figure out the next step together. [another squeeze, to that rattling hand. Magnus wishes he could touch Noah's hair, but he doesn't have any] Do you want to come out from under the couch? It's just me and you here, right now.
[Noah frowns, the scant remains of lips bending over broken teeth. He can feel the truth in Magnus’ words, and the comforting warmth of his offer, and after a moment, he lets himself seep from beneath the sofa. Evening light filters through his ragged sweater.]
I hate it. [His skeleton arms wind around himself, unnatural and eerie.] I don’t want to be this.
[he extends his arms out, for a hug. he offers them so rarely, it's a little macabre that there's no hesitation, when Noah's all bones and grim, psychic remains]
You'll be what you wanna be again, Noah. I promise.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action, earlier in the month.
The treehouse is almost done, just a few days from completion before this awful transformation hit. Noah pours in through an open window. The magic feels so different here, breathless and beautiful, tingling skin he no longer has. It doesn't quell the pain and fear, though, and he immediately zips under a piece of furniture, letting out a low whimper.
He came here for solace, but even in the afternoon light he doesn't want Magnus and Alex to see him.]
Re: action, earlier in the month.
[ -- what was that?]
...Alex?
[it's not as odd a question as it could be. after all, Alex could be, at any given time, any animal in the animal kingdom, to squawk, hiss, growl, and whimper at him. he closes the fridge, pacing into the living room, where the fireplace is surrounded by some comfy chairs. he feels like it came from over here. if not Alex, maybe it's a pokemon? more and more of them seemed to keep popping up, around here]
no subject
[Noah moans it miserably from under the sofa, half out loud and half in Magnus' head. He's in between spectral and spiritual, on the edge of two planes.]
I'm sorry.
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For what? Are you okay, Noah? [...] Did something happen?
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Strange, since he doesn't have tear ducts at the moment.]
My body's gone.
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[oh, indeed. Magnus wraps his arms around his knees, processing that information. the nanites? the nanites. fuck]
...Did you forget it at the arcade? I'll help you retrace your steps, if you want.
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I look like how I look back home.
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...Didn't you give me shit, about that? When I was saying my old body was bad? -- Can I come under?
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The thing under the couch is not human. It might have been, once, a long time ago, but now it's little more than a thought. The rotting tendrils of a long-dead soul weave around bare bones, still dusted with the dirt of a shallow grave. Hollows in place of his warm eyes, a crushed face where freckled skin used to stretch with eager smiles - it is a thing of nightmares.]
no subject
I already knew you were dead, Noah. Do you want to hold hands, for a bit?
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[His hand isn't much of a hand - just cold bones, some crooked and broken with defensive injuries - but he stretches it out anyway.]
The others don't all know. I can usually hide it.
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[Magnus covers the not-hand with his own, and he's warm to the touch, if Noah can feel anything. it's not fair, the kind of dead Noah is. whether he can or can't feel, Magnus is gentle, when he squeezes bones that clack together]
As long as you want.
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[He seems to seep closer to Magnus, solid but not, like a rattling breath.]
What if I never get it back?
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[he strokes fingers over bone, doesn't move, as Noah haunts him, even as the hair on the back of his neck stands up, from the sensation]
Or you can possess me, or something. We'll figure it out, Noah. I promise.
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I f-feel like I died all over again.
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[he can't heal dead; he can't heal ghostly auras. he can try to weave calm, at most]
Do you want me to use my seidr?
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There's nothing to help. This is all there is. [His voice is a nervous whisper.] They gave me a body, but this is all that's inside.
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[he shifts closer, to that shivering-flickering-nightmare, that is his friend Noah]
You're not being killed again. You're not nothing. You're still here, and I'm glad you are. And we'll figure out the next step together. [another squeeze, to that rattling hand. Magnus wishes he could touch Noah's hair, but he doesn't have any] Do you want to come out from under the couch? It's just me and you here, right now.
no subject
I hate it. [His skeleton arms wind around himself, unnatural and eerie.] I don’t want to be this.
no subject
[he extends his arms out, for a hug. he offers them so rarely, it's a little macabre that there's no hesitation, when Noah's all bones and grim, psychic remains]
You'll be what you wanna be again, Noah. I promise.