max "FUK U I'M A DRAGON" kiesler (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
burnination) wrote2015-11-24 05:52 pm
burnination) wrote2015-11-24 05:52 pm
Eudio IC Inbox; un: maximoose
" Busy. Send a text. "
" Busy. Send a text. "
" Busy. Send a text. "
" Busy. Send a text. "
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Little bit unbalanced, you think?
[ not that he doesn't get their dynamic and the necessity for it, it'll likely just always seem hilarious to him. Either for how out of proportion it is, or for how freaking spoiled Arthur is. Bless the man, but he lives in absurd luxury.
Regardless, all of that is completely forgotten the moment Merlin pulls the old book free, holding it out to him. It's like being handed the holy grail, and max takes it with the kind of care you'd handle an infant with, eyes wide and completely enthralled with it. ]
You are shitting me, man. [ cracking the book open, he pages through, pouring over the old language as he tries to put it all together. He runs a hand carefully over a page, like the paper and ink itself is some kind of sacred, but he can feel the magic coming off it. It doesn't look nearly so old as it would in his world, but it's a relic nonetheless. Not any tome written by Merlin, but the one that taught him. ] Any one of my professors would have killed to just be able to glance at this.
[ and max, being in the business of chasing relics in his world, and having been so enchanted by magical history to begin with, is like a kid in a candy shop, grinning so wide his face might split. ]
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Gaius -- I'm not sure he's in the stories, but he gave me this book to teach me magic. He's the court physician of Camelot. ( he flickers through it, still in max's hands, landing on a page telling the spell of a fiery lance, made to slay mythical creatures. ) I used this spell to enchant a lance wielded by Lancelot, to help him slay the Griffin.
( is he bragging? maybe a little -- mostly he's just excited on the fact that he can share these treasures with someone who will understand and appreciate them. with the book still spread between them, merlin tilts his head and draws his eyes up the connecting path of max's wrist, tracing the lines and swirls of his arm tattoo with his eyes. they comfort him -- magic, definitely, though he wonders for what purpose. the only tattoos he's ever seen have been the mark of the druid people, triskelion, which pull a similar emotion from him, fluid and moving, like nature itself. )
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Gaius, Gaius... no, I don't think he's mentioned. Could be that the name was changed to someone else. There was a 'Blaise' in one poem? [ not really one of the better know ones, but it was there, and he was supposed to be merlin's mentor. but it's legends, and on top of that, magic legends. you can really only take so much from them. but this is real, having the book here, talking to him, hearing about this Gaius dude. And it's awesome. as merlin flips the pages, max tilts his head at the spell presented, looking over the words, mouthing one or two, but not saying them allowed, because, you know. words, power. etc. but his eyes widen at the story, almost ready to start bouncing on his feet. ]
Sir Lancelot? [ hoooooooly shit, dude. he needs his autograph too. he needs all of their autographs. he needs to clutch merlin's face and tell him he is excellent by all standards. but the last bit he'll refrain from. for the moment. ] I've never even seen a Griffin. I fought a yeti once? A magic lance would've made it a hell of a lot easier. What happened with it after?
[ looking back to merlin, he sees his eyes trailing the tattoos on his wrists, the white lines there and the darker ones that trail up his forearm, half hidden by his sweater. feeling a nerdy kind of thrilled about all this sharing, he sets the book aside for the moment, before tugging his sleeves up about his elbows, showing both the forearm ones to help control his berserker state, but mainly, the white lines on the tops of his hands. ] Check it out. You know how I told you that a lot of spells come out of drawn designs? [ gradually, a surge of magic starts to build, and if he's paying attention, the heat in the room seems to rise, as the white lines turn a bright, glowing, ember orange color, as if the lines are burning into his skin. which, well, they are, as that's technically hellfire lighting up, but it's not seeing to hurt him at all. it builds until flame rises up, and crawls along his arm, up to a shoulder, behind his neck and over to the other, then down the opposite arm, before melding into the matching tattoo on the opposite hand. MAAAGGGIIIICCCC. ]
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he hums an inquisitive noise, considering. )
The flame I'd casted on the lance died, it remained ordinary though Lancelot always favored it. However... ( his eyes light up with a little mischief, navy blue and endlessly full of tricks and wisdom. ) Arthur's sword is something else entirely. That which was bathed in a dragon's flame, and could penetrate any armor, and defeat anything. His sword, Excalibur, which I forged for him.
( okay so maybe kilgharrah crafted it for him, and merlin accidentally let uther use it and it was a tender subject between them for a little while. LISTEN he did it for arthur, and that was the importance of it -- everything he does, he does it for arthur. excalibur was no exception to the limitless list of things he would accomplish, when arthur's life in on the line.
regardless, his thoughts are quickly stolen once max's tattoos start acting up -- merlin bends a little to watch them, eyes wide and curious as they light up and course throughout his body, landing on the opposite side, which merlin follows quite closely. having the correct channels right on your body to posses powerful magic -- it seems almost like a cheat, but a smart one, and merlin delights in watching it, a hand lifting up to touch but quickly falling back to his side, offering an apologetic grin. it would probably be hot, and merlin isn't too excited to get burned. instead he just stares at them for awhile more, following the line work again and again, as if committing it to memory. )
So... so incredible. ( merlin holds out his palm, eyes flickering gold before a small, blue flame pops up in the center of it, the tip of it following his eyes and getting bigger as he looks back up to max. now they match, sort of. merlin smiles, big but soft. ) It's... it's so good, to be reminded of how beautiful magic can be, when good people use it. I've met so many sorcerers who've used magic selfishly, who've forgotten that wonder and awe are... really the basis for a thing as natural as rivers or forests. ( he hums, eyes dropping back to max's tattoos. ) I was lucky to have met you, Max.
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Excalibur! You have any idea of famous that things ends up? [ do you know how awesome you are? how awesome that thing that you did is? it's awesome as freaking hell and there's still nothing like it in the world. ] You sure as hell hid it well. People have been looking for it for over a thousand years, myself included.
[ if it even still exists anymore. he'd spent a while around wales and the UK, going from site to site, chasing arthurian legend more as a passing fancy. there wasn't any real hope of finding it. max eyes watch the blue flame with a softness in him, like viewing a sunset or the ocean. a silent forest covered in snow. beauties of nature. max is fireproof, he knows that, he was born that way with how his demonic magic works, but all of the history they know about merlin is that he wasn't bound to a plane - there wasn't any rules with borrowing or with what's dissonant for him, so really, he could probably touch max's hellfire and be just fine. then again, different universes. still, he's curious, but he doesn't want to go telling merlin to stick his hand into fire right now. instead, he blows at the flames flickering around his fingertips, and sends small streams of hellfire to weave and twist around the blue flame - something that burns brighter, a deeper color to it, a more volatile kind of aura, and yet, it's more comforting to max than anything else. ]
I know what you mean. I didn't really meet anyone who used it for more than a weapon until I was... 14. [ he murmurs quietly, while watching their magic mix and meld and interact. he's always loved doing this with his friends - tris, marco and dani. it never stops being worth watching in wonder. ] But that's not most people. The same way Uther isn't most people. When I met the rest of the world, I knew that.
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max's excitement in response to excalibur is quickly reflected in merlin's features, a doofy smile broken across his mouth -- excalibur! famous! it's been tossed into the back of his mind, mostly, tossed into the lake of avalon, awaiting the time when arthur will be ready to wield a sword stronger and greater than all others. fit for a king, whenever arthur gets there. that max knows it speaks facts that he does get there -- of course he does, merlin always knew that, it's just something else to hear it from someone who live sin a world where is has happened, instead of it will. the sword may be in a different hiding place now, moved from where merlin placed it , but that doesn't stop him from taking the lure max sets out. )
I'll have to think of a riddle to help you on your quest to find it.
( as long as you don't use it, but nah. it was made for arthur, and max won't find it, probably. unless merlin tells him.
still, he's captivated by their magics swirling together, teasing and playful and catching merlin's watchful eye with a kind of understanding, some sincerity in the movement. max is a talented sorcerer ( witch, he says, and merlin promises to get more used to that ), perhaps even with a skill currently outweighing merlin's own, which excites him more than anything. he's desperate to learn, always, to find teachers of old and new who guide him down the magic course, who holds his hand and walk him through what wonders he's capable of. the wispy tips of his blue flame tickle and kiss the embers of max's, playing quick games of tag and chasing around merlin's fingertips, which draw a giggle from him, quiet and low.
drawing his flamed hand closer to max, with a step between them, he clasps his palm slowly onto his fiery one, shushing the blue flame in the scant space between their hands, until it's extinguished -- to the naked eye, perhaps, but it isn't gone. instead it's within max now, merlin's magic all blue and homey and ancient feeling -- licking up his veins and the paths his tattoos had set, perhaps a little overwhelming from sheer power, but it's a magicy comfort nonetheless. these flames don't bite and they don't burn, but they embrace max from the inside, brushing friendly kisses against his shoulders and the back of his neck. merlin hums his contentedness, his first ever attempt at channeling seeming to be mostly successful, keeping his hand on top of max's. letting him enjoy it, an overflowing feeling of magic being controlled by merlin himself. )
So long as there are good people to use magic, it can never be a bad thing. There will always be people who seek to harm with this power, but... the people who embrace it, enjoy it, use it for protection and healing and magic tricks and kind mischief -- those are the true witches between us. They are who will bring peace to this world, not Arthur, not alone.
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[ in all honesty, he doesn't really know what he'd do with excalibur if he did find it. put it away at BCR, like the other powerful relics he's found? or just put it back, probably. so long as no one else is likely to find it. it's a joke, really. he doesn't have any kind of need for a sword like that, and while it'd be beyond incredible to have his hands on, max doesn't see a reason in waking up something so old and so powerful just for the sake of novelty. but it would be cool. cool as hell.
currently, he's too enchanted by mingling their magic together to be very concerned about relics. there was a night not very long ago in witch haus, when tris came to shake him awake, when his own magic had started to come back to him. that sat out on the living room floor doing things like this, just reveling in the feeling of letting their magic flourish and play. it's something deeper than natural urges like breathing, eating, sleeping. it feels like something spiritual, even, and there's something so satisfying about just celebrating in it, allowing yourself to be what you were created with, and reveling in it with someone like you.
and christ, merlin's magic is incredible. even with just a simple flame, he can feel the power in it, and the purpose, even more so when merlin's hand covering his, as he presses the magic into him. not trailing it over his skin, or playing at the tattoos like he and davina had done. it's inside him, under his skin, sifting through him and surging through his veins, and it's completely intoxicating. the enchanted ink on his skin flares up, each in the animation they usually take when magic is pushed into the spells. the circle on the inside of his palms, the marks on his forearms lighting up, the normally hidden lines on his neck blossoming up from the piece that decorates his collar bones. not just any magic - something old, breathed out of the earth into a vessel meant for this kind of natural force alone - and it feels like an embrace from long lost family. ]
It's-- [ he starts, but speaking isn't the easiest thing at the moment, so much more focused on the sensation, and max's free hand moves to mimic what merlin had done on the other side. it's careful, not wanting to burn merlin, but hoping the theory he'd had, about him being immune, is correct, and when flames lick at merlin's wrist while leaving no mark, it's with a wide, breathless smile that he lets his palm move, up over his forearm, towards the elbow, pushing up fabric of his shirt to his bicep, with the vibrant heat and surging, pressing energy that's the signature of max's magic. ] It's a life force. Part of reality and everything the world's made of. How can it be evil when everything lives because magic is part of it?
[ the warmth spreads, floating over merlin's skin and weaving with the energy built up in him, as max's palm touches the side of his neck, watching the bright orange color spread under palm skin, entranced. before he's really realized it, he's already leaning forward, tugging merlin in, and pressing lips together in a sound kiss, both soft and searing. they'd felt so tangled up already, and with merlin's magic thrumming through his limbs, it'd just felt right to breathe it back into him, or maybe to seek out more. max never really puts a whole lot of forethought into these things. ]
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if merlin's magic is nostalgic in nature, cooling and calming and ancient as the gods of old have all declared, then max's feels like drinking twenty cups of coffee one right after the other. it's energy that inspires him, makes him giddy and hyper and full of life, the want to expel it in someway a sudden necessity. he wants to cast spells, to use up this overwhelming power that connects where their hands touch, where max touches him. merlin thinks they might be able to do anything, right now and in this moment. anything at all.
he only realizes how close they've instinctively drifted together when max touches his neck, fire licking an already thundering pulse, that only increases twofold as he looks to max, and then finds himself leaning in to match their mouths all the same. ironically, it doesn't feel that special -- the sharing of magic, vital and in very essence the soul of a person, is on such another plane of existence than the physical act of a kiss, that is doesn't seem meaningful at first. merlin's free hand clings to the front of max's shirt, his other hand lacing their fingers together, keeping the bond unbroken. his thumb brushes the circle of his heated palm tattoo with interest, ebbing more magic from the tips of his fingers.
only when there's a natural break in the kiss does merlin realize -- ) Oh. ( and then realize ) Oh! ( bringing the hand from max's shirt up to press his fingers against his own mouth, like he can't believe it.
really really can't, if the way his cheeks light up have any story to tell. ) You kissed me! ( how very, very embarrassing. his hand draws back, only so merlin can slap his hands against his face, covering a tragic flush as best he can.
he peeks out from a crack in his hands at max a second later, though. he's grinning. )
You kissed me. Me!
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that need to expel the energy that merlin feels is something that comes from him, given max has a sort of broken valve on his magic, and a large part of how often he uses it is simply managing the overflow, but the feeling of it has always felt comforting and reassuring. regardless of whatever magic has done to max in his life, he knows what his magic feels like, and he knows the satisfaction in using it. it is a deeply personal, intimate feeling to experience another person's magic the same way, and he can understand how merlin wouldn't have expected it. he hadn't really had many to share it with, had he? if any. max is beyond pleased to let him have that here.
the part where he's also making out with him certainly doesn't hurt either. but it's the same - on some other kind of plane, feeling out of body, more like particles in the air, dust from the universe that comes together and falls apart to form one piece of reality or another. he knows the hand on his chest feels warm and inviting, and the lips sliding over his are sweet and delicately intimate, and the fingers laced in his are kind and careful. the magic in the ink at his palm brims at the surface, meeting with merlin's fingertips, and max squeezes back against his fingers, almost more stretching for more of the feeling than simply returning affection.
when they break, and merlin seems to come back to himself in a completely comical way, max can't help the laugh that peels from him, hand still resting against the nape of his neck. once the other's released, the sparks of magic between them dissipating like dandelion seeds blown away with the wind, he brings the other to ruffle at merlin's hair. how freaking cute. ]
I did. You. [ you freaking nerd. though said with a warm smile, fondness there. clearly this isn't something merlin does a whole lot. ]
Sorry. Got kind of excited. Is that okay?
[ that he kissed him. if not, he'll back off, obviously, but there is a grin under this fingers hiding his red cheeks (though not his red ears, which max tugs at a bit with a snicker). ]
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max the boy witch. so forbidden it's nearly unheard of, something maybe even worse than the crime of magic. another thing camelot will hate about merlin, another thing he finds difficult to accept within himself because... because he will be shunned, if he does. a kiss from a boy which made him happier than he's ever been now feels a little like ash in his mouth, because he shouldn't want it, because it's a sinful crime -- not that merlin really believes that. he can't preach magic and turn down something else that defines a person, that a person can't choose as just is. but -- he isn't. he can't be. his mother would cry. arthur would be disgusted.
he just forgot. he sees max as magic personified, as a being and not a gender ( which isn't true, it can't be, he's so strong and handsome and tall ), that he forgot. someone will believe it, he'll lie a day longer, he'll fight it, because unlike magic which pours out of him in every step and every breath, gayness is secretive. it's hidden, no one needs to know, not even merlin. except -- max kissed him, and merlin kissed back, and he wants to do so again in the future -- another time that doesn't have to be spoiled by a lifelong insecurity, telling him you're wrong, you're evil, you must be dealt with. )
I'm a boy.
( like max doesn't already know -- and yet kissed him anyway? merlin shakes his head, bottom lip bitten. )
For -- I-I'm sorry, I, um, I'm not very... ( he shakes his head again, ridding it of thought, always trying to be understanding in a world with modern developments. it's just hard. accepting magic was easy, because it's something he likes in himself. homosexuality is another story. ) Boys can... kiss boys? W-what I mean is... that is -- isn't a crime for you, either..?
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You are a boy. Unless I missed something.
[ with a mock frown, max brings his hands up to pat against merlin's chest here and there, like checking for boobs. nope, no boobs, definitely still a boy. in case you were worried about it. but he can watch the panic unfolding in his expression as well, can guess well enough considering the time period merlin came from, and he's chasing the warlock's hands, folding them into his own, with fingers curling to weave in merlin's. ]
It's okay. Nothing to be sorry for. [ absolutely nothing at all, and to make a point, he brings those hands up to his chest, and dips his head to kiss at the knuckles here and there. no one's going to explode, no one's going to come hunt them down for this. thumb passing gently over the side of his palms, max holds them there against his sternum, and steps close so he can speak quietly with him, only a few inches away. ]
Boys can kiss boys, boys can sleep with boys, boys can marry boys, and boys can adopt children with other boys. [ no that he'd done the latter two at all, but it's a possibility, and no one's going to get them in trouble for it. maybe they'd be judged a bit, but who cares, at this point? it's cuddle city, half the people are already smooching the same gender here. ]
It's all legal. Maybe not as socially accepted as one would like, but it's legal. [ and in eudio, probably only frowned on by the very opinionated. ]
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these things don't happen to merlin, not usually. arthur is the one people want, and merlin can't exactly blame them -- arthur is handsome and brave and strong and all other things that merlin is not, and has a natural charm among people, and is in general better at this sort of thing. merlin is just inexperienced, though affectionate by nature, his own awkwardness prevents him from taking too many steps forward down that path of his life. max is a good counterpart for him, confident and affectionate without restraint, and merlin smiles at idle kisses, put entirely at ease in the intimacy of the moment. )
The future sounds like a very nice place.
( almost too good, but -- that's the point, isn't it? arthur will unite them, will inspire peace for centuries and centuries to come. he's happy that someone as good as max has the chance to live in a place where he can be himself, where he has -- friends, people who support him, who respect his magic.
merlin tips his head further to kiss max again, testing it out for himself. it's small, more grateful than anything else, there and gone as merlin pulls back with a smile tugging at his lips. )
Witch Haus? We can try some spells in my book, if you'd like.
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[ wait until he tells you about shower sex, merlin. shower sex is a beautiful and wonderful thing, and wouldn't have been possible without modern technology. it's a gift.
but that's a very intimate talk for another time. maybe first their should be a little more kissing, and that, they can continue at his house, where arthur isn't possibly going to be walking in on them. that, and, doing magic as much as they want, anywhere they want. witch haus is a safe place. something max loves about it. ]
Sure, pack it up, and anything else you need. I'll set up the spell.
[ tugging his spell paper back out, along with a pencil, max goes about drawing a few more lines here and there, muttering numbers to himself, writing in archaic latin around the sides. it doesn't take too long, given he'd had most of it set up already. just had to account for bringing merlin back with him. tugging out the bag of ground amethyst, sprinkling a faint line of it around in a circle on the floor, big enough for both of them to stand in. ]
Ready?