The Right Question 6: R&R
Aug. 12th, 2021 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerDear half asleep self from the last chapter: I do what I want. (I'm getting to it, in other words.)
Main Points:
Crusade (The Right Question)
Chapter Summary: Loss brings them to a turning point. Problem is, Gideon has no idea what it's turning to.
Word Count: 1516
Rating: Teen
could be read as gen or preslash, though it leans more toward preslash.
Warning: Not in-depth, but hints toward Galen's past (with self-harm/self-deprivation). Also, two slightly self-destructive men.
Losing people is never easy, and Gideon half doesn’t want to have any company. It’s just the fact that Galen’s quiet and respectful that prevents him from insisting the man leave. Though it’s probably masochism that prompts his next question, breaking the peace to bring more pain.
“Do you want to talk about her?” He doesn’t have to elaborate.
“No, not particularly.” For once, the technomage doesn’t teleport out, but starts walking away, stride quick and slightly angry. It is slightly novel he’s actually walking, though it’s not the first time. Perhaps it’s the emotion, perhaps it’s keeping the solemn air of the moment. Gideon manages to catch his sleeve before he leaves. He doesn’t flinch as piercing blue eyes glare at him. Sure, he’d gotten the punishment of a friend being angry at him, but he doesn’t want to be alone, suddenly.
“Do you—” No, he doesn’t want to ask. He’d already asked one question, and anyway, he doesn’t want to hear the answer no, no matter how likely that outcome. He switches it to a statement instead. “I have a pack of cards.”
Galen narrows his eyes, blue eyes looking through the Captain as he considers his options silently. “Matthew, I do believe you are a master of mixed signals.” Somewhat reluctantly, Galen returns.
A part of Matthew, the reasonable part, knows exactly what the result will be, just as he knew when he challenged Dureena. Knows that playing games with a technomage is just asking to lose, but part of him wants the thrill. Part of him wants to see Galen cheat, just like he’d seen Dureena cheat. It’s a rush, reading another person through their playing. Even if he won’t see exactly how it’s done, unlike with the thief.
“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” Galen interrupts his thoughts. Apparently, they’ve arrived at his quarters.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that was redundant.” The technomage appears in his quarters often enough, after all. But at the slight downturn of the mouth, Matthew decides it’s rude to just ask Galen to be honest with him and not show some honest feelings in return. “Sometimes I’m not sure whether you want me to treat you like a friend or as a coworker.” It’s not the right word, which is frustrating, but it’s the best approximation he has to ‘like a somewhat shady loosely affiliated wizard that flits in and out all the time and can be really aggravating’. He doesn’t have words to approximate Galen. Probably appropriate.
The technomage makes himself at home, much more cautiously, much less presumptuously, than he had last time. Or, really, any other time that Gideon’s seen the man in his quarters. “I thought I’d made that clear to you, but I suppose not.” His voice is hushed, intimate, maybe even subdued. “I told you I have formed attachments, here. I’ve answered some of your questions, which is not an act I undertake lightly.” He pauses to consider as Matthew retrieves some wine he’d been saving from Earth, and nods. It’s not often that he can communicate silently with someone. It’s a nice feeling. “Technomages pride themselves on being the keepers of secrets, not the galaxy’s gossips, and in any case sharing too much information is what got me into trouble in the first place. Contact with others outside our order runs the risk of others learning too much of our esoteric secrets. So even the fact that I’m trying to act against my own nature…”
“I appreciate it,” Gideon clarifies, because this is the entire point. “So I guess you’re trying to tell me you already consider me a friend.” He hands the technomage a glass, and he accepts. “I wanted to say the same, but wasn’t sure if it’d be…I don’t know, presumptuous.”
“For you, no.” Galen doesn’t elaborate further. He takes a sip and hums, though whether it’s in approval, disapproval, or something else entirely isn’t really clear. It’s strangely humanizing to see, though it occurs to him it’s not the first time. In that inn, for instance. Still, it’s easy to forget, to think of the man as more of a spirit than a flesh-and-blood, sentient being.
It takes the first couple games for Matthew to figure out that Galen isn’t actually familiar with the game, though as expected he thinks on his feet and is very, very good at reading Matthew and figuring out how to win. It’s clear when he really hits his stride because the strange hesitance is gone, and a hint of that smug superiority returns. He also stops losing entirely. Still, Gideon can’t be angry about it, because this is exactly what he wanted and expected, and also because it finally occurs to him what the slightly awkward feeling meant.
The technomage is allowing himself to be vulnerable, to appear as less than simply a technomage. Matthew has to prove himself worthy of that trust—though he can’t help having a little of his own fun along the way. He waits until Galen’s deciding what card to play next before asking, “So, I’m not making you break a vow or anything, right?”
The technomage stills, and Matthew inclines his head at the glass. Galen still hasn’t had much. Galen laughs, revealing his oddly white teeth.
“If you’re operating under the assumption my order are a bunch of medieval monks, you’re very much mistaken, Matthew.” It would have been easy for Galen to dismiss it. Easy for him to claim it was the Technomage Order, easy for him to say anything about them he wanted, really, considering Gideon knows nothing about them. He sobers a little as he considers his next words, finally choosing his card and laying it down before continuing. (Possibly a distraction, but then, Matthew doesn’t especially care about the outcome of the game, anymore.) “True, card tricks weren’t a priority, but also…I am not used to indulging myself.”
It’s a quiet confession, and Matthew takes it and holds it to himself like the treasure it is. He doesn’t fully understand it, but he doesn’t have to, to grasp the quiet loneliness in the words. He’s not merely talking about the vices, like gambling or drinking. He’s talking about any of it—a quiet conversation with a friend over cards, allowing himself to get this close to anyone other than a fellow technomage (which, Gideon’s bright, he did notice that Galen didn’t try to argue his Order didn’t take any vows). It’s easy, to look at Galen’s smile and Galen’s sarcasm and the way he comes and goes as he pleases and think that he doesn’t need any of that. Doesn’t need any of them. He might try to hide his vulnerabilities under humor (Gideon vaguely remembers from ancient history classes that apparently that’s a very human trait) and a magic shield, but Dr. Chambers, if no one else, had diagnosed it as loneliness.
Gideon suddenly feels sober, and tired, and older. But he’s also glad he’s not alone tonight, and that he’d been able to give Galen something new, even if it doesn’t seem like much. “Well, I’m happy to help ease you into it. After all, what are friends for?”
Galen’s smile is subdued, if genuine, at the mention of the word ‘friend’. He takes another sip before continuing. “I still feel guilty. Always will, I suspect. But she wouldn’t want me dwelling on the past. She would have wished me happiness, even after she is gone.” Galen’s tone is more emotional than Gideon’s ever seen him, aside from the time he’d been upset enough to try to kill the alien, but his eyes are clear. Tipsy, perhaps, but probably not drunk. (Probably. He’s still not sure of the limits of technomage magic. He suspects the technomages like it that way, too.) Matthew must have missed something, though, because the moment disappears and Galen sighs. “Well, I should be getting out of your hair. I’m sure you’ll have much to do in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night,” Gideon wishes, frowning a little as he ponders what, exactly, he’d missed. They hadn’t even finished the last game. In all possibility, the wine is to blame, but it did seem to help Galen speak more freely, just a little.
(When they get caught up in a sudden uprising on the planet the next morning, he wonders if the murmurs about Galen sensing trouble are true. Though he doesn’t believe the ones about the man being bad luck. And he’s not given much time to ponder the idea as the technomage appears in front of him, shield saving his life once again.
He does have time, later, to think about other revelations, though. The words about ‘indulging’ bounce around in his brain, and he doesn’t like the vague, half-formed concepts that appear. Specifically, now that he’s thinking about Galen as maybe a man with powers but still just a man, coupled with the imagery of medieval monks, the implications are…a little disturbing. For the first time in his life, Gideon finds himself hoping he’s wrong.)
Main Points:
Crusade (The Right Question)
Chapter Summary: Loss brings them to a turning point. Problem is, Gideon has no idea what it's turning to.
Word Count: 1516
Rating: Teen
could be read as gen or preslash, though it leans more toward preslash.
Warning: Not in-depth, but hints toward Galen's past (with self-harm/self-deprivation). Also, two slightly self-destructive men.
Losing people is never easy, and Gideon half doesn’t want to have any company. It’s just the fact that Galen’s quiet and respectful that prevents him from insisting the man leave. Though it’s probably masochism that prompts his next question, breaking the peace to bring more pain.
“Do you want to talk about her?” He doesn’t have to elaborate.
“No, not particularly.” For once, the technomage doesn’t teleport out, but starts walking away, stride quick and slightly angry. It is slightly novel he’s actually walking, though it’s not the first time. Perhaps it’s the emotion, perhaps it’s keeping the solemn air of the moment. Gideon manages to catch his sleeve before he leaves. He doesn’t flinch as piercing blue eyes glare at him. Sure, he’d gotten the punishment of a friend being angry at him, but he doesn’t want to be alone, suddenly.
“Do you—” No, he doesn’t want to ask. He’d already asked one question, and anyway, he doesn’t want to hear the answer no, no matter how likely that outcome. He switches it to a statement instead. “I have a pack of cards.”
Galen narrows his eyes, blue eyes looking through the Captain as he considers his options silently. “Matthew, I do believe you are a master of mixed signals.” Somewhat reluctantly, Galen returns.
A part of Matthew, the reasonable part, knows exactly what the result will be, just as he knew when he challenged Dureena. Knows that playing games with a technomage is just asking to lose, but part of him wants the thrill. Part of him wants to see Galen cheat, just like he’d seen Dureena cheat. It’s a rush, reading another person through their playing. Even if he won’t see exactly how it’s done, unlike with the thief.
“Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” Galen interrupts his thoughts. Apparently, they’ve arrived at his quarters.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that was redundant.” The technomage appears in his quarters often enough, after all. But at the slight downturn of the mouth, Matthew decides it’s rude to just ask Galen to be honest with him and not show some honest feelings in return. “Sometimes I’m not sure whether you want me to treat you like a friend or as a coworker.” It’s not the right word, which is frustrating, but it’s the best approximation he has to ‘like a somewhat shady loosely affiliated wizard that flits in and out all the time and can be really aggravating’. He doesn’t have words to approximate Galen. Probably appropriate.
The technomage makes himself at home, much more cautiously, much less presumptuously, than he had last time. Or, really, any other time that Gideon’s seen the man in his quarters. “I thought I’d made that clear to you, but I suppose not.” His voice is hushed, intimate, maybe even subdued. “I told you I have formed attachments, here. I’ve answered some of your questions, which is not an act I undertake lightly.” He pauses to consider as Matthew retrieves some wine he’d been saving from Earth, and nods. It’s not often that he can communicate silently with someone. It’s a nice feeling. “Technomages pride themselves on being the keepers of secrets, not the galaxy’s gossips, and in any case sharing too much information is what got me into trouble in the first place. Contact with others outside our order runs the risk of others learning too much of our esoteric secrets. So even the fact that I’m trying to act against my own nature…”
“I appreciate it,” Gideon clarifies, because this is the entire point. “So I guess you’re trying to tell me you already consider me a friend.” He hands the technomage a glass, and he accepts. “I wanted to say the same, but wasn’t sure if it’d be…I don’t know, presumptuous.”
“For you, no.” Galen doesn’t elaborate further. He takes a sip and hums, though whether it’s in approval, disapproval, or something else entirely isn’t really clear. It’s strangely humanizing to see, though it occurs to him it’s not the first time. In that inn, for instance. Still, it’s easy to forget, to think of the man as more of a spirit than a flesh-and-blood, sentient being.
It takes the first couple games for Matthew to figure out that Galen isn’t actually familiar with the game, though as expected he thinks on his feet and is very, very good at reading Matthew and figuring out how to win. It’s clear when he really hits his stride because the strange hesitance is gone, and a hint of that smug superiority returns. He also stops losing entirely. Still, Gideon can’t be angry about it, because this is exactly what he wanted and expected, and also because it finally occurs to him what the slightly awkward feeling meant.
The technomage is allowing himself to be vulnerable, to appear as less than simply a technomage. Matthew has to prove himself worthy of that trust—though he can’t help having a little of his own fun along the way. He waits until Galen’s deciding what card to play next before asking, “So, I’m not making you break a vow or anything, right?”
The technomage stills, and Matthew inclines his head at the glass. Galen still hasn’t had much. Galen laughs, revealing his oddly white teeth.
“If you’re operating under the assumption my order are a bunch of medieval monks, you’re very much mistaken, Matthew.” It would have been easy for Galen to dismiss it. Easy for him to claim it was the Technomage Order, easy for him to say anything about them he wanted, really, considering Gideon knows nothing about them. He sobers a little as he considers his next words, finally choosing his card and laying it down before continuing. (Possibly a distraction, but then, Matthew doesn’t especially care about the outcome of the game, anymore.) “True, card tricks weren’t a priority, but also…I am not used to indulging myself.”
It’s a quiet confession, and Matthew takes it and holds it to himself like the treasure it is. He doesn’t fully understand it, but he doesn’t have to, to grasp the quiet loneliness in the words. He’s not merely talking about the vices, like gambling or drinking. He’s talking about any of it—a quiet conversation with a friend over cards, allowing himself to get this close to anyone other than a fellow technomage (which, Gideon’s bright, he did notice that Galen didn’t try to argue his Order didn’t take any vows). It’s easy, to look at Galen’s smile and Galen’s sarcasm and the way he comes and goes as he pleases and think that he doesn’t need any of that. Doesn’t need any of them. He might try to hide his vulnerabilities under humor (Gideon vaguely remembers from ancient history classes that apparently that’s a very human trait) and a magic shield, but Dr. Chambers, if no one else, had diagnosed it as loneliness.
Gideon suddenly feels sober, and tired, and older. But he’s also glad he’s not alone tonight, and that he’d been able to give Galen something new, even if it doesn’t seem like much. “Well, I’m happy to help ease you into it. After all, what are friends for?”
Galen’s smile is subdued, if genuine, at the mention of the word ‘friend’. He takes another sip before continuing. “I still feel guilty. Always will, I suspect. But she wouldn’t want me dwelling on the past. She would have wished me happiness, even after she is gone.” Galen’s tone is more emotional than Gideon’s ever seen him, aside from the time he’d been upset enough to try to kill the alien, but his eyes are clear. Tipsy, perhaps, but probably not drunk. (Probably. He’s still not sure of the limits of technomage magic. He suspects the technomages like it that way, too.) Matthew must have missed something, though, because the moment disappears and Galen sighs. “Well, I should be getting out of your hair. I’m sure you’ll have much to do in the morning. Good night.”
“Good night,” Gideon wishes, frowning a little as he ponders what, exactly, he’d missed. They hadn’t even finished the last game. In all possibility, the wine is to blame, but it did seem to help Galen speak more freely, just a little.
(When they get caught up in a sudden uprising on the planet the next morning, he wonders if the murmurs about Galen sensing trouble are true. Though he doesn’t believe the ones about the man being bad luck. And he’s not given much time to ponder the idea as the technomage appears in front of him, shield saving his life once again.
He does have time, later, to think about other revelations, though. The words about ‘indulging’ bounce around in his brain, and he doesn’t like the vague, half-formed concepts that appear. Specifically, now that he’s thinking about Galen as maybe a man with powers but still just a man, coupled with the imagery of medieval monks, the implications are…a little disturbing. For the first time in his life, Gideon finds himself hoping he’s wrong.)
