"Er... yes, okay, I suppose I should tell you that if you're trying to reach me I'm not here, and if you're trying to reach me because you want to do something involving pointy bits of metal or otherwise painful objects, I'm never going to be here. So sorry."
right, I have questions, but it's been somewhere between
[there's a delay.]
one and a half to thirteen years I think since any of this happened. or just a week? Porter time is confusing and my head and various other appendages hurt so yes I'm coming back to sleep on the couch. Let's just keep it for now at a promise that I'll still have all my organs when I wake up. okay?
too many to list on this blasted thing. I'll be home soon.
[in the next twenty minutes, actually, looking exhausted and in utter disrepair. Dried red mud is caked up his legs, visible from the torn hem of his robes. He's gained a tan but lost the weight he'd been able to put on since being Ported in, back to looking like haggard scarecrow in need of a decent shave.
A shave someone may have tried to give him already, judging by the thin red line curving just under his chin.
He beelines directly for the couch, halfheartedly pushing wet noses out of the way as he's greeted by the usual throng of furry housemates. The Luggage follows in a moment later, decidedly more sullen than when it left, and settles down in the corner. It left a family behind to follow its master - that sort of sacrifice demands a moment's reflection.]
[ She'd been expecting the '12 year' thing to have been more sarcasm than fact, she it's a surprised April that lingers in the entryway to the living room after hearing the pack welcome back its missing members. She takes in his whole...him. Then walks towards the kitchen. ]
Wine. All the wine. [if Rincewind's voice sounds muffled, it's because he's faceplanted on the couch, no less than three dogs on top of him. He's too tired to bother shooing any of them off.
But he'll lift his face if he hears her come back in, just enough to show that for someone claiming as much time away as he is, Rincewind only looks to have aged a year.
Not that it makes him look any less like something one of the raccoons dragged in.]
[ She does return with a bottle of wine. And a damp kitchen towel. And one of Will's carefully prepared Tupperware things of 'was previously a dinner, now is snack' food.
For once, instead of demanding couch space, she takes a seat on the floor next to where his head is, now pore or less on eye level with his pillow-smooshed face.
[good. Rincewind closes his eyes in brief relief at the answer. He's not ready to face... any of those conversations, right now. Being the unwitting pawn of an imperial coup and the reluctant determining factor of a military battle can take a lot out of a wizard. (Not to mention the unfortunate amount it nearly literally took out of him.)
When he opens his eyes again to food, wine, and a wet cloth, he nearly has to swallow back a dry sob of gratitude. Rather than waste time questioning whether April has ever been this nice to him before, Rincewind straightens enough (with a soft woof of dismay from a dislodged dog) to take the cloth and the tupperware. Food, real food first, then wine. There will be plenty of time for that.]
So is my entire life, so it feels appropriate. [cavalierly offered from behind the towel as he swipes it across his face. He peeks over a bundle of it.]
...I'm not sure how long I've been gone, I can't remember what day it last was. I don't suppose you noticed?
[probably not, given he was in a hotel at the time. There's no blaming her for that.]
[ While the Wiz disrupts his dog blanket and re-situates himself, April was offering a hand over to the still very much slunk away Luggage, waiting to see if it wanted to walk over for a pet. But even if it didn't, it still factored in here. Even the evil furniture was depressed. Must have been a trip. ]
Nah. Since you and Will had your breakup I've been kinda busy with...that. So. Don't move out again if you want calendar service.
Fair enough. [around a mouthful of something he didn't even pause to look at before shoving it in his mouth. Not that he needed to. It's delicious, heavenly - of course it would be.
The Luggage ignores the offering, seemingly lost in its own little world. Rincewind glances up just long enough to frown at it, then wave a hand.]
I wouldn't bother for a day or so. It's going to be in a mood. It ran into another Luggage it apparently got on with well enough to somehow... well, anyway. I didn't make it follow me back, you know. [added a touch defensively.] It could have stayed behind if it wanted to.
[he frowns around a gulp of wine, then lifts tired eyes to April, cautiously curious.]
[Poor luggage. She'll have to take it to the dump or something. Her gaze is 100% glued to where the miserable piece of furniture had wandered off to instead of looking at Rincewind.]
And 'course. Him and Dorian. That's what people do. Sometimes.
And children. I'm still not sure how that one happened.
[and lest he start imagining it, Rincewind swiftly moves the conversation along. Even at the risk of it plummeting into deeper, more dangerous waters.
Which there's clearly a chance of, considering April isn't even looking at him now. Rincewind sets his cleaned bowl aside, twisting his mouth. The part of him that wants to be angry, was angry before, is mostly just tired now. His whole body is.]
[ Baby luggage?! April can only blink for a moment at that, still looking where the Luggage had gone. Leaving baby momma and kids for the Wizard. April didn't think most people would manage to make the same choice.
But the man is back. After a moment of digesting the family news, April turns back to look at him, even more confused now than she had been by how baby luggage would work.]
That he'd - do something. Like that. To someone who calls him a friend. [he frowns deeply into his wine, turning so he's mostly laying down again. His feelings there are so muddled - he keeps returning to those memories of when he was in Will's bait shop, of all things; when he was a child. Rincewind's not sure why.
He glances over, guarded.]
You weren't surprised when you heard? You weren't upset?
[Normal friends isn't even the right term. April scratches the back of her head, ruffling her hair, then leans against the couch with a huff.]
You know I made peace, right? With Freddie. For you. Now he says I'm the sickness, can't stand to talk to me. They have messed up thinking about each other, the dicks from Baltimore. So. Mm. Not really surprised, I guess.
[he winces. That doesn't surprise him - Chilton's been vitriolic about April from the start, he's not surprised this mess with Will has eroded that brief truce. ]
I know you did. Or tried. I appreciated that, I really did. [even as it's clear now that's not something that will ever last.] But - thinking's one thing. He - he had to cut Dorian open. For this. Like a fish.
[which is a suddenly, deeply unpleasant comparison, and it's a good thing he's already eaten.]
[April bends her knees, bringing them up to her chest to wrap her arms loosely around, not even noticing one of the dogs dives in to replace her feet on the carpet, absorbing the bit of warmth she left.]
So're you. It's why you came back to the house, I guess. It's what makes our house...our house.
Oh, I already gave him an earful. [muttered sourly. That had hurt too, Dorian's complete lack of caring. His own fault - he should have seen it. Rincewind could be called many things, but he'd never thought one of them would be naive.
He flinches, glancing down.]
I'm not - fucked up. [an awkward curse to get his tongue around.] I came back because... well, because...
[because this is the place he's made for himself, in this world. This fur-covered house, with its stocked liquor cabinet and oddball inhabitants. Rincewind likes it here. He feels welcomed here.
It's just that he also used to feel safe here. Maybe he'll get that back, eventually. He hopes he does.]
You totally came home bleeding. Or ex...bleeding. Bloody.
[ She turns her head to give him a small attempt at a half smile, the expression matching the total lack of bite or effort in her tone. There were levels of fucked up. Some just came more murdery than others. ]
[Rincewind frowns at that (unfortunately accurate) observation, rubbing unconsciously at his neck.]
Well. That's not my fault. [but the flicker of a smile on April's face means he can tell she's not teasing him, so he holds back any further grumbles. At least on that note.
It's not like she doesn't have a point.]
I - know that. [mostly.] Just, it's not going to feel comfortable again. Not all at once.
Mm. Do whatever you want. Just leave a sticky note or whatever next time you do a drama flounce. I had to was my own clothes for, like, forever with Luggage gone.
[It's a lie. She had the raccoons wash it, like she had since time began. But the point remained. Kind of.]
Oh, you poor thing. [not even bothering to hide that sarcasm.] I can't think of anything that would be worse to go through. Certainly not being sent to take part in someone else's bloody revolution all because some kind-hearted idiot you were friends with years ago wrote fantastic lies about you in a country where you can lose your head for just looking up at the wrong person.
[Rincewind pauses for breath, considers continuing his rant - and then just drowns himself in wine again. He'll need to find the bottle, at this rate.]
[ Sorry, bro. Everyone here has a sob story and April mostly just cares about her own. She will manage to get up to get some more wine, though...so that she can share in the drinking. ]
[The word "sexy" and the very thought of Twoflower nearly short-circuits Rincewind's already battered brain. He shakes his head quickly, a hand going to his temple as if he can massage the very idea away.]
No, gods. Why is it always sex with you?
[and, quickly, in case she attempts to give him an answer:]
It wasn't so much that he lied as it was that he wrote lies. Twoflower... sees the world through the most dangerously delusional eyes of anyone I've ever met. We can both look at the same run-down whorehouse or bar fight, and he'll call it "quaint" and want to have his picture taken in front of it.
[his look softens. There really was some strange appeal to the little idiot. Rincewind couldn't help but miss him, despite how bloody dangerous he was to Rincewind's health.]
...He wrote that I was I was a "Great Wizard" and made Ankh-Morpork sound like some amazing place to live. Apparently that's enough to inspire taking up pitchforks against centuries of oppression.
[Great, sexy. Same difference. She was totally not on board with what he called a 'lie,' but whatever. Not the debate for the bloody. Maybe another night. When he was calling her the liar.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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it's taken care of
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right, I have questions, but it's been somewhere between
[there's a delay.]
one and a half to thirteen years I think since any of this happened. or just a week? Porter time is confusing and my head and various other appendages hurt so yes I'm coming back to sleep on the couch. Let's just keep it for now at a promise that I'll still have all my organs when I wake up. okay?
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organ removal is by request only
make new friends?
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I'll be home soon.
[in the next twenty minutes, actually, looking exhausted and in utter disrepair. Dried red mud is caked up his legs, visible from the torn hem of his robes. He's gained a tan but lost the weight he'd been able to put on since being Ported in, back to looking like haggard scarecrow in need of a decent shave.
A shave someone may have tried to give him already, judging by the thin red line curving just under his chin.
He beelines directly for the couch, halfheartedly pushing wet noses out of the way as he's greeted by the usual throng of furry housemates. The Luggage follows in a moment later, decidedly more sullen than when it left, and settles down in the corner. It left a family behind to follow its master - that sort of sacrifice demands a moment's reflection.]
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What'd you want?
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But he'll lift his face if he hears her come back in, just enough to show that for someone claiming as much time away as he is, Rincewind only looks to have aged a year.
Not that it makes him look any less like something one of the raccoons dragged in.]
Anyone else home?
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[ She does return with a bottle of wine. And a damp kitchen towel. And one of Will's carefully prepared Tupperware things of 'was previously a dinner, now is snack' food.
For once, instead of demanding couch space, she takes a seat on the floor next to where his head is, now pore or less on eye level with his pillow-smooshed face.
She offered over the cloth. ]
You're a mess.
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When he opens his eyes again to food, wine, and a wet cloth, he nearly has to swallow back a dry sob of gratitude. Rather than waste time questioning whether April has ever been this nice to him before, Rincewind straightens enough (with a soft woof of dismay from a dislodged dog) to take the cloth and the tupperware. Food, real food first, then wine. There will be plenty of time for that.]
So is my entire life, so it feels appropriate. [cavalierly offered from behind the towel as he swipes it across his face. He peeks over a bundle of it.]
...I'm not sure how long I've been gone, I can't remember what day it last was. I don't suppose you noticed?
[probably not, given he was in a hotel at the time. There's no blaming her for that.]
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Nah. Since you and Will had your breakup I've been kinda busy with...that. So. Don't move out again if you want calendar service.
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The Luggage ignores the offering, seemingly lost in its own little world. Rincewind glances up just long enough to frown at it, then wave a hand.]
I wouldn't bother for a day or so. It's going to be in a mood. It ran into another Luggage it apparently got on with well enough to somehow... well, anyway. I didn't make it follow me back, you know. [added a touch defensively.] It could have stayed behind if it wanted to.
[he frowns around a gulp of wine, then lifts tired eyes to April, cautiously curious.]
You asked him, then?
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[Poor luggage. She'll have to take it to the dump or something. Her gaze is 100% glued to where the miserable piece of furniture had wandered off to instead of looking at Rincewind.]
And 'course. Him and Dorian. That's what people do. Sometimes.
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[and lest he start imagining it, Rincewind swiftly moves the conversation along. Even at the risk of it plummeting into deeper, more dangerous waters.
Which there's clearly a chance of, considering April isn't even looking at him now. Rincewind sets his cleaned bowl aside, twisting his mouth. The part of him that wants to be angry, was angry before, is mostly just tired now. His whole body is.]
But I didn't want to think that of him.
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But the man is back. After a moment of digesting the family news, April turns back to look at him, even more confused now than she had been by how baby luggage would work.]
Thank what about Will?
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He glances over, guarded.]
You weren't surprised when you heard? You weren't upset?
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[Normal friends isn't even the right term. April scratches the back of her head, ruffling her hair, then leans against the couch with a huff.]
You know I made peace, right? With Freddie. For you. Now he says I'm the sickness, can't stand to talk to me. They have messed up thinking about each other, the dicks from Baltimore. So. Mm. Not really surprised, I guess.
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I know you did. Or tried. I appreciated that, I really did. [even as it's clear now that's not something that will ever last.] But - thinking's one thing. He - he had to cut Dorian open. For this. Like a fish.
[which is a suddenly, deeply unpleasant comparison, and it's a good thing he's already eaten.]
It's all just so... wrong.
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[April bends her knees, bringing them up to her chest to wrap her arms loosely around, not even noticing one of the dogs dives in to replace her feet on the carpet, absorbing the bit of warmth she left.]
So're you. It's why you came back to the house, I guess. It's what makes our house...our house.
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He flinches, glancing down.]
I'm not - fucked up. [an awkward curse to get his tongue around.] I came back because... well, because...
[because this is the place he's made for himself, in this world. This fur-covered house, with its stocked liquor cabinet and oddball inhabitants. Rincewind likes it here. He feels welcomed here.
It's just that he also used to feel safe here. Maybe he'll get that back, eventually. He hopes he does.]
...It's my home.
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[ She turns her head to give him a small attempt at a half smile, the expression matching the total lack of bite or effort in her tone. There were levels of fucked up. Some just came more murdery than others. ]
Will's not gonna come for you, jerk.
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Well. That's not my fault. [but the flicker of a smile on April's face means he can tell she's not teasing him, so he holds back any further grumbles. At least on that note.
It's not like she doesn't have a point.]
I - know that. [mostly.] Just, it's not going to feel comfortable again. Not all at once.
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[It's a lie. She had the raccoons wash it, like she had since time began. But the point remained. Kind of.]
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[Rincewind pauses for breath, considers continuing his rant - and then just drowns himself in wine again. He'll need to find the bottle, at this rate.]
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[ Sorry, bro. Everyone here has a sob story and April mostly just cares about her own. She will manage to get up to get some more wine, though...so that she can share in the drinking. ]
What did he say? They liar. Was it sexy?
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No, gods. Why is it always sex with you?
[and, quickly, in case she attempts to give him an answer:]
It wasn't so much that he lied as it was that he wrote lies. Twoflower... sees the world through the most dangerously delusional eyes of anyone I've ever met. We can both look at the same run-down whorehouse or bar fight, and he'll call it "quaint" and want to have his picture taken in front of it.
[his look softens. There really was some strange appeal to the little idiot. Rincewind couldn't help but miss him, despite how bloody dangerous he was to Rincewind's health.]
...He wrote that I was I was a "Great Wizard" and made Ankh-Morpork sound like some amazing place to live. Apparently that's enough to inspire taking up pitchforks against centuries of oppression.
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[Great, sexy. Same difference. She was totally not on board with what he called a 'lie,' but whatever. Not the debate for the bloody. Maybe another night. When he was calling her the liar.]
You win?
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