InsaneJournal

WHO: Regulus and Morgana
WHEN: Today, nowish.
WHERE: Her flat, then his flat, then a cab, and then the art museum.
WHAT: Morgana is impressively devious and Regulus is surprisingly snarky. And lots of inane, possibly accurate and meaningful, conversations about art - and other stuff.
Ratings: Likely PG-13, both log part and following thread.
STATUS: Closed/Incomplete

Morgana was getting better at this. Her conversation with Arthur had her thinking, along with all that had happened afterward; and he was right. She had never been one to sit and take whatever blow life had thrown her without complaint. Without attempting to overcome it in anyway she could, and then maybe adjusting - as she saw fit - if life chose to continue being so cruel. This was why Morgana had asked Morgause to take her around the apartment a few times. Her sister and Mordred would take her into the hallway and Morgana would count. The paces from furniture to furniture, from door to door. Touching and feeling everything, while stubbornly committing it into memory. Again and again. Morgana would distract herself with listening to the television when they were busy. Arthur and Merlin had been good enough to get her audiobooks. And she would sit on her hands, pretending that she didn't miss the textured feel of books and actually being able to see the words as well as well as the smudged ink on her fingers, so she wouldn't be pulled by the need to go off on her own. To try walking on her own. As she didn't want to hurt herself and cause more trouble for them.

It had, it still did, grated on Morgana having to be so dependent on the others. It bothered her so that she had to consider them in every simple action. Could she go to the bathroom on her own without calling out to Morgause? What if she slipped and fell? She surely shouldn't try the kitchen because what if she miscounted and knocked something over? She broke it. She wouldn't be able to see the glass and she certainly wouldn't be able to concentrate her magic to fix it. She wasn't that in touch with it.

Morgana had had to question everything and had needed help with almost everything. While she still did need aide for a majority of things, she was very slowly gaining her sense of capability. At the very least to walk around the flat and down the hallway of her floor. The kitchen and the bathroom were still rather great unknowns.

Despite, her efforts inside: with walking, managing very sloppy written messages, and even recalling the keypad enough to call people. The efforts outside had been needed a strong push of self-determination and outside encouragement. For the first few days she hadn't wanted to go outside. For what purpose? The fear of needing to rely on people even more had stopped her. Outside was much more changeable, more susceptible to others arbitrary desires. She couldn't control it. It's reactions to her, let alone her reactions to it.

She had been stubborn for all of two days and a half before she allowed Mordred, Gwen, and Abigail to take her to the courtyard. There should be no judging as Morgana dared anyone to deny those three anything. A lack of sight didn't hinder how tightly they had her wrapped around their fingers.

Morgana had gone out every day for an hour since then, and more recently she went walking for a little bit. The need to stretch her legs outweighing any vanity or need not to be a burden. Even in Camelot as the protected princess she had more mobility. Albeit, she wasn't blind and could go places on her own. However, she had had less of a choice. Going off to the meadows whenever she wanted just wasn't done. In fact, she usually had to tell someone just to go to the market. Here, though blind, she had more options. More places to go, less need for permission, and a list of people willing to go places with her. In Camelot at least the Castle was large and she could distract herself. Here she still could, it was just a matter of swallowing her pride and asking for the help.

Morgana hadn't managed to do that and it, at first, seemed it would be weeks (hopefully this wouldn't last that long) until she managed to do so. However, a phone call from Regulus had changed that. She had heard from Regulus every other day, since the second time she had called him since his arrival, Morgana had made a habit of calling. Sometimes he answered and sometimes he didn’t. She called once, every other day, regardless and she always left the message - or told him if he picked up - telling him just how glad she was that he was back.

Morgana worried for him. About him. He was her friend. The moment she had gone after him after his and Sirius horrible argument. She had taken, in a way, responsibility for him - and he possibly might have for her, Morgana tried not to think too hard about any of it, not that this place gave her much of a chance - and she fuzzily recalled bits of a future. Where he was one of her best friends. For Morgana that meant a lot. She'd only had two best friends for most of her life, and the other one - being Arthur - had been something she'd avoided admitting too for nearly just as long. Those two best friends of hers? Also her only two true friends, in general. She and Regulus weren't anywhere as close as her futureself and her Regulus were; nonetheless, they had a connection. Had it from the first.

She cared for him. It was that concern - and the surprise that he’d actually called (as well as the sense of not wanting to lose an unexpected advantage) - that had a slightly surprised Morgana finding herself, asking him if he wanted to go out with her. To which he said yes, much more to her surprise. Before she knew it they had a date for the museum.

She told him that she would get him. Alone. Made him swear that he would let her do it.

That was how she found herself in front of his door. Knocking. After making it out of her apartment, locking the door, and slowly counting her way all the way to the elevator and all the way up to Regulus' flat. Hoping to God that she was at the right door.

Regulus hadn’t meant to call Morgana. He had meant to stay holed up in his room while life passed him by. It was a vain and hopeless attempt to try and forget his circumstances. He cared little about this world, and he would be just as happy if it had decided to no longer care about him. Maybe it had stopped caring about him, in the warmest sense of the word, the fact he was back, and without his magic two very irrefutable pieces of evidence, in his opinion, supporting such an assumption. But this world seemed to notice him frequently enough to cruelly mock him.

And apparently that extended to not even allowing him to lie in his bedroom ignoring this whole business.

His phone had been by his side and when he rolled over, having not set the key guard as Merlin had shown him all those months ago, he accidentally speed-dialed Morgana. When the thing started ringing he’d picked it up in confusion, his head fuzzy from trying not to exist. It was while he was thus engrossed trying to figure out what he did when Morgana’s voice issued through the speaker.

There was nothing to do then but talk to her.

They exchanged pleasantries. He inquired after her health, how she was adjusting to being back, she asked the same and he gave a noncommittal answer that revealed nothing about his current habit of never leaving his room, just like every other telephone conversation they’d had since returning. He was just going through the motions. And then she surprised him but asking him to the museum.

The invite was a shock. Morgana was blind now, and museums catered so much to the non-seeing impaired, especially art museums. And Regulus wasn’t expecting any kind of invitation, especially not when he couldn’t find the strength to even sound interested in anything. He didn’t even have it in him to question if this was Morgana’s way of checking up on him.

He agreed though, if he said no that would be a red flag drawing everyone’s attention. And he dragged himself though the flat, getting ready, as he was sure Morgana would appreciate a properly bathed and clothed Regulus. The latter probably wouldn’t register with her, not until a museum worker asked them to leave because Regulus only had on pajama bottoms. But Regulus was sure Morgana didn’t want to smell a week of filth on him, and he’d heard somewhere that losing ones eyesight caused a heightening of the other senses.

He met her at the door and almost thought to fake a smile, but then, relieved, he remembered she couldn’t see. He had some advantages this meeting, he supposed.

“Morgana.” He reached for her hand. “Shall we?”

Morgana relaxed visibly, completely forgetting to school her emotions over the relief of it being his door. In fact, Morgana was relieved that it was his floor; there had been a worry of clicking the wrong button. Relief was quickly followed by a flash of pride and Morgana provided Regulus with a rather bright smile. She didn’t even stiffen when he took her hand. “Let’s.” She said in answer, grin still there.

The museum might have seemed like a ridiculous plan and she still didn’t know why she had said it. It had been a plan made, a promise to show him around, and mentioned every once in a while. It had never once been acted upon. Morgana didn’t know why she had said it, other than getting the sense that sitting around wouldn’t serve either of them any good. Regulus would be her eyes and she would be determined enough to enjoy this for the both of them. Because he might have very deftly avoided his problem but she knew that something was wrong, just the same.

Morgana’s smile was glowing and triumphant in a way that should have been infectious. And Regulus wanted it to touch him in some way. Morgana was his friend after all, and her victories, though seemingly small and personal, should be something that brought him some sort of satisfaction. But beyond recognizing what this meant for Morgana, how it was good for her to figure out how to move independently, Regulus didn’t feel anything.

This was how it was for him. He’d shown back up feeling as if he’d received the wrong end of a deal designed to make him suffer in a way wholly unsatisfactory compared with what he sought after. And it wasn’t his lack of magical abilities.

Three months previous he had wanted to die, had found the means and had been successful. But that absolution had been denied him when he was pulled into this place. Not just once now, twice. He had always suspected that if he had tried killing himself, again, on his own he would just end up back at that library, and he had been right. It was a lonely, devastating thought that he would never get the eternal end he desired.

He only remembered a feeling about where he had been, no details. He knew it had been torture, how could it not? And that feeling both haunted and teased him. It brought the details of the past two years of his life barreling uncontrollably into every thought, while reminding him he could never atone for those two years.

Regulus tried to shove all this back into that deep, raw pit that had opened in his consciousness upon his return to this place to pay attention to his friend. This was going to be a long day, sure to end with Morgana frustrated with him.

“The elevators?” he asked. The stairs were right out. “Do you want to lead the way?” He tried to give Morgana her independence while making light of the situation, but even to him the words sounded a bit flat.

"I -" She hesitated, smile dimming before she forced it back. "Thank you. Yes. I will." Morgana carefully retraced her steps, moving a tad bit quicker than she had when she'd arrived because of her company, but still moving with precision. Morgana didn't say anything and she doubted that Regulus minded.

She felt out for the elevator when she had counted the right amount. She was one step short. A flash of annoyance went through her but she shuffled over and pressed the button down.

It wasn't until they'd entered the elevator, and after she had felt around the panel, did Morgana speak again as they went their way down: "Thank you again for agreeing to come with me."

So far this wasn’t difficult. Morgana was more than willing to take the lead, Regulus could just follow along side of her, and it didn’t appear he had to say much of anything either. At least so far, but ‘far’ was only on the elevator and they still had a whole day ahead of them.

“Uh… again, you’re welcome.” Regulus wasn’t sure why he’d decided to go along with this. Maybe it was partially the desire to try, feeling like this, like nothing was going on inside of him, was boring. And while nothing he’d tried thus far had given him much variation how did the saying go? If at first you don’t succeed… maybe you should give up? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Are we walking?” he asked as the doors opened. He hoped not. It was cold out, and Regulus decided he didn’t much like the idea of walking all the way to an art display in this temperature.

“Well do you know how to drive?” Morgana asked in wry amusement. “No, actually, I called a cab. It should be here in -” Morgana frowned and attempted to calculate the time. As she knew when she left and she knew how minutes it took her to move from her flat to the elevator, and she could guess the time it took her to get from the elevator to Reg’s door … she could have simply just asked Regulus for the time but blind stubborness was once again getting in the way. Morgana had moments when she swallowed it along with her pride and asked for help. And then she had moments where they could very well be, both, the death of her - Again.

However, the cab was pulling in. Morgana heard the distinct sound of a car pulling up, tires against pavement and made slower because of all the debris around, and stopping. She smiled again. “I’ll pay.”

If Regulus were in a ‘feeling’ type of mood he would have sighed in relief and smiled at the good fortune of having a paid ride all the way to the museum. As it was his response was a bit of a halfhearted mumble. But he stepped towards the car without any complaint despite his instinctual misgivings about riding in a muggle automobile. He’d never trusted these things

“I actually do know how to drive,” his voice was still rather flat, even though he was trying to engage in the conversation. He wondered if he sounded arrogantly bored, or just dull witted. He held the door open for Morgana. “Juno taught me.”

And he wasn’t going to argue with her over payment, he was unemployed and his means of procuring funds, stealing, had been halted due to his reliance on magic to help him in that endeavor.

“Oh?” Morgana tilted her head curiously, as she felt her away toward the car seat. When she made it in, she murmured a thank you to Regulus as she settled. “Tell me about it.” It wasn’t a request. She then reminded the cab driver where they wanted to go and then turned toward Regulus with an interested and expectant expression. Morgana wasn’t going to push him into a corner - or at least she would try not to do so - but she wasn’t going to let him slide away with very minimal talking. He was trying, she noticed that, and she very much appreciated it. She wanted more. Besides she was very curious she hadn’t known that he couldn’t drive and given that she knew how Regulus felt about a lot of muggle things she was amused. She noticed that he tried a lot of things because of Juno and that piqued her interest, had for some time. She certainly thought they were cute together, even if they were “just friends” and Regulus wasn’t ready for a relationship. That said, she would never say that to him.

Regulus sat stiffly next to Morgana. One hand gripped the handle on the door tightly, though it didn’t make him feel any better once the car started moving. It was the car that was making him nervous, sometimes old habits and prejudices were hard to break.

“Well,” he thought for a moment, almost losing himself in the blankness that were his thoughts as of late. “There’s a steering wheel,” he continued at last, “and a… gas peddle, and a brake peddle, and a lever that you pull that gives the car permission to go if you want to make it go.”

His explanation of driving was rudimentary, but it was the basic idea. The memories of that week as another version of himself had been fuzzy at first, but slowly they’d come back to him. Which had been a good thing because they came with a whole extra set of memories of a life he’d never lived. He was achingly jealous of some of those memories, they included a version of his brother he knew he could never have. As those memories came back to him, because of their easy return pace, he was able to box them up, so to speak, and shove them back in a dark place where they wouldn’t threaten to take over.

Thinking this dry outline of how to drive was what Morgana was after Regulus stopped talking.

Morgana’s lips pursed as she sat there and stared at him. She tried very hard not to laugh and keep a straight face. “Alright. That was … nice. I suppose that is what I get for not specifying. However, I was more interested in the entire experience of learning to drive and being taught than the basics of the mechanics of a car.”

Morgana sat and thought over what he had just said, deciding that he hadn’t been obtuse on purpose, nevertheless, she waited.

“Oh.”

Regulus didn’t mind that an almost smile tugging on Morgana’s mouth. But he didn’t appreciate the look on the cab drivers face, who also found his answer amusing. Regulus narrowed his eyes at the man until the driver noticed his passenger in the rear-view mirror. Not until the driver wiped the smile from his face did Regulus continue.

“It was when I was that other version of myself.” Which really was the only time Regulus would have been open to the idea of learning how to use one of these muggle things. “Juno offered to teach me how to drive. We went out one night, found an empty parking lot and she went over the basics and then let me try.” Regulus did not include the part where they drove through the park until the found a place devoid of other cars or people and sat for a good hour almost kissing but not quite doing that yet.

Morgana frowned slightly when Regulus voiced only two letters and then stopped. She hadn’t meant to offend him. Morgana wished that she could gauge his reaction.

Then he was continuing and the expression on her features relaxed. “You recall much more details than I do.” Morgana stated, keeping her tone low though conversational as she leaned forward slightly. The people in this city might have been obtuse about a lot but Morgana never wanted to take the risk of how they would react to blatant mention. “I remember patches and pieces of conversations during that time.” Perhaps, that could have to do with Morgana having changed more times than Regulus had. If she recalled he had another version of himself once and she had been at least twice, or maybe it was four times and Regulus had been twice.

It was a muddled mess, even more so than attempting to recall existence after death.

“It’s not always as wonderful as it seems,” Regulus said. He was mostly referring to the memories of the other version’s life. Regulus could do without those.

Regulus was saved from elaborating as the taxi pulled up in front of a stately building with columns. It was amazing it had survived invasion when so many buildings that surrounded it were little more than a pile of rubble. That gave Regulus pause. The building was still standing but what about the exhibits, how had they fared?

“That will be eight-fifty,” the cab driver called back to them.

“Do you need help?” Regulus asked. Morgana might be bravely working towards independence but Regulus was unsure if her practices thus far had included money identification.

“I don’t … I might.” Morgana hadn’t had time to prepare having her money separated into different parts of her purse, so she could figure out where everything was. She tended to go out with others who would pay for her if that was necessary. She knew that Morgause had separated her coins and her bills, big ones in one area and smaller ones (less than twenty) in another. It was easy enough to feel fifty cents. Quarters were the biggest and to her fingers the shape of George Washington’s head tended to be much more pronounced than that of the others.

Morgana turned first one, then another quarter in between her fingers feeling it with the pad of the thumb before handing it over.

Slowly she felt around the inside of her purse before she found a zipper, unzipping it she opened it and pulled out four bills. “I doubt my luck is that good that I managed to pull three ones and a five,” She said wryly, before holding them out so Regulus could see.

Regulus saw the bills in Morgana’s hand, she had a five, a ten and two ones. Almost but not quite there. He took the ten from Morgana’s hand and gave the cab driver another glare, daring him to say anything. The man blessedly did nothing more than hand back two dollars change. Regulus held the door open for Morgana and offered his arm once again when they were on the walk.

“There are,” he counted quickly, “two sets of fourteen stairs leading up to the doors.” He didn’t know if he was overstepping some boundary with his helping, but then, Morgana was the type to explain exactly what she wanted, and if he was bothering her she would tell him.

Morgana frowned slightly when he took only one bill before shrugging slightly. That was better than she expected, not better than she had hoped but better than she had expected. Putting the rest back, she then took Regulus’ arm and allowed him to their destination.

Being told about the stairs, in a way, further reminded her of her situation. At the same time, she appreciated it. Because he was allowing her some autonomy, instead of attempting to guide her up them; which, would have been a mess for them both.

“I remember. Are the railings alright? Just guide me to them and stay a few steps behind me. I’ll manage.”

“Right,” Regulus said and lead Morgana to the nearest rail. “About a fourth of way up this rail is missing about a half meter chunk,” he warned and then fell behind her. The effort required for going through the motions with Morgana wasn’t too arduous, yet. He was sure her kind, but firm manner would turn to annoyingly persistent if he didn’t improve soon. He was full of enough pessimism to believe that would happen, and it would happen soon.

But for now they were going to see art, which shouldn’t be too taxing. It was just art.

And then a thought struck him.

“Morgana? Forgive my rudeness, but,” his voice carried just the barest hint of hesitation, “how is this going to work?” A suspicion was forming in his. He wondered if this was Morgana’s way of getting him to speak, because the only way she could ‘see’ the paintings would be if he described them to her, in detail. Clever woman. Regulus didn’t know if he should be impressed or irritated.

“A fourth of the way …” She muttered to herself, calculating how many steps that was, before nodding. “Alright. Thank you.” Morgana was moving forward when Regulus started speaking again.

Morgana quickly wondered if he would just leave her there if she just started grinning, not maliciously, however, perhaps a bit evilly. Instead, she - hardly missing a beat - decided to go with straight-forward. Or at least enough to seem obvious and not crafty. Even if it was a wonderful plan, she doubted Regulus would appreciate it. “I was hoping that you could describe them to me and we could talk about it together.” The touch of sincerity in her tone was, well, sincere. It was what they would have ended up doing if she could see. Discuss the pieces as she explained to him what she knew. In this scenario, however, Regulus would have to do much more talking and interaction - if not with others - definitely with herself and the art piece. “If that makes you uncomfortable, we could ask for a tour.”

Morgana was risking her plan by putting another option but she wanted to take that chance. She was adamant on not pressuring him, as hard that tended to be at times (such as now, when she rather do with just her previous plan). Not to mention she wanted to believe that there was still something there. There was still the kind-hearted young man that she knew was inside of him but he never seemed to give much thought to. She even wanted to believe that there was still enough of Regulus that would end up getting annoyed with a stuffy curator - she hoped that it was a stuffy one - taking a superior tone with him.

She felt that which option he chose would show that.