entrancelogs | i am the king of the sparrows

Entry tags:

i am the king of the sparrows

Who: Gansey and you!
Where: the library, the forest, the beach
When: 8/25
Rating: probably E for Everyone! Some light swearing, description of cleaning an infected wound.
Summary: Gansey is learning his way around Wonderland
The Story:

the library

[anyone who knew gansey (which is, of course, at this point, basically nobody) would be unsurprised to find him in the library. books are a safe haven, reading and research always a source of comfort, and this library has enough books to keep anyone entertained for an eternity.

at the moment, he's amassing a pile of them at the bottom of a ladder. they're on a variety of subjects, from ley lines and welsh history to the first three novels about a certain wizard with a scar on his forehead. he seems comfortable enough up on the library ladder, or at least he does until he adds one too many books to the collection he's holding on one forearm, and it goes tumbling to the floor.

apologies to anyone nearby for either the sudden falling object or the very loud noise it makes when it hits the ground.]

the forest

[the woods are lovely, dark, and deep, and gansey is homesick as all hell, at sea without his friends, without his quest, without much to anchor him besides the strange man who lives in the next room over. unmoored and left to his own devices, he seeks solace in a place that's maybe just a little like another forest he knows. it's nothing like cabeswater, really, lacking in all the magic and wonder, but the odd sense of not-quite-reality that pervades all of wonderland is something, at least.

if nothing else, it's quite a sight to see a well-groomed teenaged boy in khaki cargo shorts, a brightly colored polo, and boat shoes climbing a tree. or maybe you spot him when he's up there, wedged more-or-less comfortably in. the polo really is rather unsubtle.]

the beach

[gansey's wanderings have brought him to the shoreline. he has his shoes hooked on two fingers and a library book held with the others, but instead of helping himself to one of the chairs, he just stands and stares, watching the waves, his free hand in his pocket, rocking gently back and forth, digging his feet into the sand. once he's in up to his ankles, he goes completely still, watching the waves break and crest on shore.

he probably stands there for fifteen minutes, at least, before pulling his feet free, setting his shoes and book on a vacant chair, and walking toward the water, both hands in his pockets now. there's something about the set of his shoulders, a bone-deep loneliness, or at least aloneness. when he gets down to the water's edge, he turns and begins to walk along it. where's he going? he has no idea. it doesn't really matter.]

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[once max is settled, gansey sits down too, letting his legs swing and watching max discover the wonder that was being up high in such a green place. there's more sun up here but they're still only halfway up the tree, and leaves still cast shadows over them, moving in a gentle breeze that wasn't so obvious on the ground. it's just enough to ruffle gansey's hair a little, to keep the work of climbing from feeling sweaty now that they've stopped.]

It's good up here, isn't it?

(Max nods at once. He adjusts himself around until he's shuffled over to be sitting more directly across from Gansey. There's enough space between the branches that Gansey's legs could touch Max if he really wanted to stretch them out but at the present moment, were not.

He reaches his hand up to grab at the hood of his sweater and pulls it down away from his face. His mind was clearing up the more he sat with Gansey and he decided that it wasn't such a bad thing at all.)

Does...your world have many trees?

Lots. Lots and lots.

[they have their communicators from wonderland, but gansey still carries around his phone from home. he takes it out and starts paging through the pictures until he finds the one he's looking for. he has to lean to offer the phone to max, but it's not too far.]

That's Henrietta. Well. The part of Henrietta right in front of Monmouth.

[the picture is taken from above the ground, but not nearly as far up as they are now. maybe the top of a flight of stairs. in the foreground is a gravel lot, sparsely dotted with weeds and grass going to seed, and there are two cars in it. one is a 1973 orange camaro complete with wide black stripes, and the other is a charcoal grey bmw of a make and year that probably wouldn't look familiar. it does look fast, though.

the gravel lot leads out to a road with a single rickety looking mailbox. the road itself is paved, a ribbon of black asphalt and muted yellow lines that disappears out of each end of the picture. beyond the road and on either side of the gravel lot is grassy field, dotted with pale wildflowers. the whole thing is shrouded in an early morning mist, a gentle cloud that rises perhaps a foot above the tips of the plants. in the distance, there's a clear treeline, the trees themselves mostly a mix of pines and oaks. they gradually slope up into a gentle valley, and above that valley is the sunrise, the sky all gentle pinks and oranges that fade down into brightness behind the trees and up into pale blue,]

(Max automatically leans towards Gansey when he sees the other boy leaning towards him, though he doesn't know what for. The communicators are still a bit outlandish to Max but when he is given the phone, he understands enough what he is looking at.

He turns it over in his hand to look at the screen and at first, he's a bit taken aback by the initial beauty of it all. Wonderland was just one space but this was an entire something. An entire world that was sprawling with life and for a moment, it almost felt too much.

Max doesn't realize he has pulled his legs up to his chest, sitting wholly on the branch now as he stares almost hungrily at the picture. Just like that he understands now what Gansey had meant about the forest here not feeling quite alive. This world, Gansey's world, looked so endless and perfect. Max's hands shook a little, his grip tightening on the phone for a moment before he loosens it just as quickly. The break in his fingers is still fresh enough to sting and he lowers the phone, staring at it almost...sadly. Then he leans himself back over, grabbing onto his own branch with a hand in doing so to ensure his balance. He doesn't say a word but his face is explicit with open emotion. Something raw and painfully honest.)

[max is offering him back the phone and gansey takes it, but he also takes max's hand along with it, sliding the phone out of max's palm and replacing it with his own, his thumb linked with max's thumb and his fingers resting on the inside of his wrist. gansey slides his phone back into his pocket with his free hand before pressing that one to the back of max's hand, his thinner fingers fitting into the spaces between max's knuckles and tendons, his palm resting against the backs of max's fingers.

he doesn't say anything, just looks back at max, a more muted version of that rawness in his eyes behind the obvious concern. he's terribly, terribly homesick, but max's distress is clearly paramount here.]

(It is not the first time that Gansey has touched him or that Max has touched Gansey but it is the first time that he properly feels him. Max is jolted on the spot from the shock of Gansey's warmth and his stomach instantly clenches up in tension. His first thought that lasts all of a second is that Gansey was grabbing his hand to yank him off the branch and down to the ground.

The idea of someone just touching him out of kindness? It's a much slower, realized concept that leaves Max feeling oddly dazed.

His eyes lift up to Gansey, uncertain of how to react, his hand limp in Gansey's hold but he wasn't pulling away. The thing about looking into Gansey's eyes was that he understood what he was looking at. A like rawness there and it was odd, the places one found comfort. Slowly, his fingers twitch and curl until he's loosely holding at the hand.)

It's....strange. I've been looking for....something for....and I don't...What if there are somethings that don't exist to be found?

I don't believe that there are somethings that don't exist to be found. I think...it's hard to explain exactly. I think that everything is part of something bigger. If you have a yearning to find something, it must be there to find, but not all things reveal themselves easily. Some things only want to be found by certain people. Some things only can be found after you've earned them, or when you understand enough, or when the time is right.

But I think if there's something in you that's...reaching for something, it's because it's out there, somewhere. And if it's out there, you should look, because it's waiting to be found.

[there's no placation in his voice, no particular attempt to comfort despite the small squeeze of his hand around max's. gansey truly believes this, naive and childish as it may sound. but he believes it because it's always been true for him.]

(It was such flawless faith that it made Max ache a little bit. Maybe Gansey was right. But maybe he was wrong. It was difficult to think that there was an entire world of possibility stretched out there. Coming from a world that was so rotten and dead, it was very difficult to comprehend at all.

After all, Max didn't even realize what it was he was searching for or if he had just gone so insane that he just felt like he was missing something. He didn't know how to put that fear into words. How he had no clue what or who or where he was half the time.

Max lets go of Gansey's hand, pulling his own back. He pushes himself up to stand on the branch and for a moment wavers. Then he stretches out and climbs up to be on the same branch as Gansey. He sits down with a grunt beside him and the branch sways a moment under their combined weight but seems perfectly sturdy. He shifts a bit, their sides barely touching, and looks down at Gansey, brows tucked together.)

I've been looking for decades.

That just means it will really be worth it, when you find it, whatever it is.

[he pauses, swinging his legs in silence for a long minute.]

Everything is part of something bigger. Everyone is part of something more than themselves. Half the time--most of the time--we don't have a clue. Whatever you're looking for, it's out there, and you'll find it when it's ready to be found, as long as you're ready to find it. Maybe you won't even know what it is until then, but when you do, things will just fit into place. I know that sounds childish, and I sound naive. But it's been true for me.

What if it's death?

(The question slips out before Max really has much control over it. He does look at Gansey after and for all of the morbidity of the question, he means it.)

It doesn't...I just come from a world a lot more....yours is vibrant. There is a lot to be found there.

Death is inevitable, you don't have to search it out.

[he looks at max, and there's something about his expression that contains far more than any teenager ought to understand about death.]

If you wanted to die, Ramsey, you've had plenty of opportunity. Even I can tell that much. Your world sounds terrible enough that all you would have to do is stop. It doesn't take long to die without water. But you don't stop, do you?

Ah....not what I meant. I don't want to die. Don't know how to die. I was just wondering if maybe...

(He trails off and doesn't pick back up. Doesn't know the point that he was trying to make. All he did know was that it felt like whatever he was searching for, it couldn't be found anywhere on that world he had left behind.

He does notice Gansey's odd expression, an expression that was very telling and Max faces Gansey some, his expression particularly grave as he tries to wrap his mind around something he felt he wasn't in the right to ask. It was a face he had seen once or twice before. People too intimate with death.)

Odd thing, aren't you?

[gansey shakes his head.]

Yearning is for something that's out there somewhere to be found. Death doesn't take any looking for. Life does.

[he gives max an odd sort of smile, not really a smile at all, wry and sad but still an upward curve of his mouth.]

And I've been told I'm odd before once or twice, yes. When I was younger I had a bit of an encounter with death, but obviously I'm here to tell the tale. That's part of why I believe in purposes.

Maybe...depends on if you believe anything happens after death.

(It wasn't an insult to Gansey, calling him odd. Max didn't know anything in his life that wasn't odd. He himself couldn't begin to count the amount of times he had been called any variation of 'insane'.

He does make a humming noise, understanding then where Gansey was coming from. At least to some degree. He wasn't about to act like he understood anything about the world that Gansey came from.)

If I didn't believe in purpose, I would have given up a long time ago.

(He just was mostly pessimistic, was the issue.)

My personal jury is out on that one. The dead go somewhere, I suppose, or there wouldn't be ghosts, but I'm not sure they really get much out of it. I believe a lot of things, but I'll bank on the surety of being alive over the potential of an afterlife.

[gansey looks at max for a long moment, head tilted slightly, thoughtful.]

I figured something like that. But you have to believe in them as much as you live them. It's no good pretending in either direction.

(The mention of ghosts has the tension growing back into Max's shoulders. He stares away from Gansey and out into the woods.)

It's not so easy as that.

No?

[gansey lets max have his silence, doesn't press more than that, but he does lean slightly into him, pressing their sides more firmly together, subtly reminding max he's there.]

(Max can only shake his head and before he can become any more focused on the topic, there's a warm weight against his side and at first, he doesn't understand. His head snaps around and he stares down at Gansey, slouching for a moment before his body straightens up. Suddenly it makes sense and he doesn't really know what to do with that.

But he sure as hell doesn't pull away.)

[gansey isn't quite sure what to make of this reaction, so he just stays where he is, letting max get used to the idea. maybe he'll come back to the thought, maybe he won't, but he's surprisingly solid against gansey's side, much moreso than he was somehow expecting despite the fact that max did just fine climbing the tree.]

Nothing....nothing is ever easy...Least of all the things that give us hope.

(He keeps close against Gansey, his eyes slanted down at him. He reaches his broken hand up, touching his finger to the side of Gansey's temple in the barest of ways.)

Can break you in the long run.

I suppose there is a vast difference between simple and easy. And hope...hope is a two-edged thing.

[gansey knows it. the most painful thing in the world is seeing glimpses of something lost that won't ever return. he nods his agreement, but as he does, he notices max's hand, catches it gently between his palms, as though it were a bird.]

What happened here?

(As his hand is caught, Max leans back in surprise before relaxing at once the moment he realized what Gansey had grabbed at his hand for. It was a good enough distraction for a topic Max would not easily budge on. He flexes his good fingers in Gansey's hand and turns his palm over.)

Uh...well...

(An awkward itch at the side of his head. He never really had to explain his injuries to anyone before. He doesn't think to mention the hole in his hand currently concealed by the bandages used to wrap up his fingers.)

Broke...um. There was a harpoon and- they got a little crushed. S'fine though. I wrapped 'em.

(....Barely.)

...Ramsey. A bit of fabric wrapping doesn't count as actually treating crushed fingers.

[gansey looks, for a moment, rather like an exasperated mother.]

When we get down I'm going to fix this properly for you. If you do things like climb trees with broken fingers they won't heal right. You're worse than Ronan.

[his tone indicates that he is perfectly aware that max is likely perfectly aware of all these things. but gansey isn't sure he wants to talk about hope right now either, about how rapidly his feels like it's running out at home, unraveling as fast as his purpose approaches its end. this, this is much easier. this is fixable, addressable, something with a clear answer and approach.]

They aren't that crushed.

(He may or may not sound the slightest bit petulant. He most certainly is not used to anyone caring about his physical condition. Then again, he wasn't used to any attention being paid to his mental condition either and yet there Gansey was.)

Not necessary. Doesn't even hurt.

(Max's own tone indicates that he is perfectly aware of all of these things but does not care so much as to fix them. This was barely an injury worth attention in his world.

Hope was never a safe subject. Max had none left and he didn't think he ever would. There were flickers of it at the most but never more than that. He didn't expect there to be. So acting like a brat towards a boy who wanted to fix up his fingers? It was a heavily preferred option.)

They're still crushed!

[that...that sort of sounded less like exasperation and more like genuine concern, and even gansey blinks in surprise at himself.]

I think we're going to disagree on the necessity of the thing, Ramsey. You need your fingers, let me take care of it properly when we go in later.

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