WHO: Kell Maresh, Gansey & Ronan Lynch WHAT: Welcome to the Gangsey WHEN: February 17th WHERE: Med Bay WARNINGS:
Gansey strode into his room, shedding the clothes he had purchased to blend into Middle Earth (not those rented to change one’s species, simple clothes) and folding them immediately as he looked through the provided dresser for something which felt right. He chose a neat white button down shirt and his long loved canary sweater. As he pulled it over his head and straightened it out, he looked over at Ronan, who still radiated threats and anger.
“Do not start a fight,” Gansey commanded. “When you promised your worst, I expect that to exclude your fists.” Ronan growled and threatened and postured. Gansey expected as much. He expected Ronan to stand in the way if Kell so much as looked like he were casting a blood spell. But he had seen others dragged down to the brig for less than actual fights. Even the appearance of such violence. As he changed trousers and belted the familiar clothes that had followed him across universes, Gansey sighed and rubbed his thumb against his lower lip. Would Ronan listen?
“I’m ready,” he declared, “And you won’t be able to defend me from anything behind bars.” He still planned to go out into Middle Earth if Ronan couldn’t come with them.
--
Ronan didn’t answer. He was angrier than he had been in a long time, and more scared, too, which then turned into anger. He couldn’t make any promises. If he had been in the same room as Kell during the conversation they’d just had, he would have lunged, Gansey’s instructions be damned.
He was tempted to go for the gun, but he knew that wouldn’t fly. So he just paced, waiting for Gansey to change, stewing silently.
There was, of course, also a rational part of his mind that said Gansey had in fact not ever been wrong about the people he wanted to befriend, and Ronan had hated them all at first, but that part of his mind had no hope of winning out until he was calmer. And there was very little chance of that anytime soon.
--
He looked at Ronan and frowned. They weren’t driving forth to meet Kavinsky. Kell had not threatened Gansey once, nor anyone else in the comments Gansey could see on the post. There was no reason to take the new arrival as a threat, and supposing Kell did attack, if he did not kill Gansey in his first strike, the robots were quick enough to prevent further damage, to save Gansey’s life. Gansey wasn’t frightened or scared what might happen to him, only concerned at what Ronan might do. A familiar weight.
But he could not delay what felt so right. So he led the way out of the room toward the med bay. Gansey hadn’t needed to go there after the battle in Atlantis, and no one they knew had arrived since they were on the boat. But the boat, while large, was only so large, and Gansey had walked most of it, all the public parts. His eyes glanced at Ronan repeatedly, and Gansey nearly tore himself away multiple times. But he stayed the course.
Entering the med bay, Gansey’s eyes swept the room and snagged on a red haired young man, thin and sharp. Yes, Gansey felt, sure that was him. Warm and choosing to believe in himself, he strode across the floor toward him, holding his hand out in greeting. “Greetings, Kell,” Gansey said. His eyes took in Kell’s physical condition, clearly treated but less than full health. Concern for someone else’s health, if this were Kell’s state, was quite believable. Then he breathed in deeply through his nose. “You smell like lilies.”
--
Kell was certain that this was a trap. He didn’t know how Holland had pulled it off, or what the point of it all was, but Kell didn’t believe that this was any mere coincidence. What he did know was that he hadn’t been able to remove himself from this boat.
What he did know was that his panic wasn’t helping. He had been blind instinct when he had arrived here, still separated from his magic. But as time wore on and nothing had changed, he had decided to switch tactics, and try to learn as much as he could. That wasn’t necessarily easy for him. The device in his hand was foreign, and Kell didn’t know if he trusted it. And even if he did, it wasn’t like he had Rhy’s charm. Rhy would have had everyone’s life story out of them by now, as well as any information anyone at all had about this strange world.
Kell, unsurprisingly, was floundering a bit.
He’d been making some ground before Ronan Lynch showed up, and Kell had told himself not to start fights this early in his tenure, but he was irritated, tired, and hurt.
He prepared himself for the likelihood that this next part would be a step forward in the trap, but he decided to move forward with it anyway, because there was no other choice but to go forward.
Kell returned the handshake, although it revealed his bandaged wrists -- which were healing, sure enough, but still stinging with more pain than Kell was used to.
“Hello,” he answered -- and couldn’t help a ghost of a smile at the comment he smiled like lilies. That wasn’t particularly news, but it was endaring that Gansey had decided to smell him the first change he got.
His eyes flicked briefly over to Gansey’s companion, taking him in one sweep, trying to assess the likelihood that he would be a threat. He looked back over at Gansey.
“You smell like mint,” he returned.
...
Gansey’s face lit up. His hands quickly checked his pockets, but having changed so quickly, he hadn’t taken any mint with him when they left the room. It had been in his other clothes, in the bag he had left behind (and some other plants he had gathered). Still, he lifted his wrist to his face and smelled it, focusing intensely on the matter. Perhaps? Perhaps he was imagining it from wanting it so much. While he did not entirely understand the matter of smells, he could guess the basics from Kell’s comments. And it pleased him that their world, all of it, might smell of mint.
Briefly, Gansey thought about smelling Ronan, to see if he too smelled of mint. But with all the glowering and threatening posture Ronan had adopted, Gansey did not wish to draw attention to him. If the two could tolerate each other at Ronan’s worst, they would get along in time.
“So that’s something each world has,” Gansey said, more than asked, energetically. “A smell that permeates the rest.” What that meant, beyond potential means of identifying a world or its inhabitants, Gansey couldn’t follow just yet. But it was something, and he wanted to follow it more. What did the boat smell like? Had he been there too long to notice?
“Coming through the portal - we were somewhere else as I said - was the first time I traveled between worlds,” Gansey shared. “I’ve seen many things, but I hadn’t considered that before it happened.” It was not something most people did, no one that Gansey had met or talked to in their world, their Henrietta filled world.
--
Kell was already feeling odd about the fact that he was likely to discuss Antari business and magic in a cavalier way with someone he didn’t know. He would have never done this with any stranger at home. But this whole situation was straining Kell’s social skills -- either this was a trap, and it likely didn’t matter anything he said, because if Holland was behind this, he knew more than Kell did when it came to Antari power and just about everything there was to know about Kell’s life; and if this wasn’t a trap and this place was what everyone was saying it was, it didn’t matter at all what he shared, and it would help him to get as much info as he could.
“There are rules,” Kell said, clearing his throat a little. “There are only a few worlds I can travel between.”
...
Gansey nodded. Everything had rules, especially magic. Whether they made much sense was a matter of perspective. Change his point of view, look at things another way, then there was the sense to be made. “A few more than many people, then,” Gansey replied. “At least, of their own volition. We are all moving between worlds here. It simply… is not of our choosing. I don’t know that anyone has figured it out, some certainly are trying. But there is some magic everywhere we go. What people possess in themselves certainly.”
His posture relaxed slightly. He wanted to be himself, the Gansey that would have asked how much Kell knew about Welsh kings before they found Glendower, not Gansey Boy, shining Gansey, a diplomat. “I’m sure you have questions, and I’m happy to answer them all. All the ones I know, at least. I’m still asking them myself,” he smiled. He liked having questions.
--
Kell’s eyes flitted between Ronan and Gansey once again as Gansey answered, all friendliness and charm. His thoughts began to stray toward not understanding their relationship -- and then it crashed over him like a hammer.
Of course.
If Rhy had been offering to meet up with strangers on some network that they didn’t understand, Kell would have had the same reaction. His brother was too friendly, too trusting, and it was Kell’s job to be the scowling one -- the weapon when was needed. The dog. His irritation gave way to a begrudging respect.
“How many worlds are represented here?” Kell asked. He didn’t even know how to begin ingesting all this information.
…
For a few moments, Gansey thought through the various people aboard. Someone had even posted about how many people were present, somewhere over three hundred? Some people were the only person from their world, others were groups like he and his friends. Then, he knew, some people were from similar worlds, alternate versions so that there were more than one of the same person. That raised other questions, honestly. But all in all… “Tens,” Gansey replied, “Somewhere between, hmm, twenty and a hundred? If you could people who have left, certainly.”
He had not cataloged them all. But they were many, they were a multitude. “Some of them related, some of them not,” he added. “And of increased curiosity, many of them are fictional in the other worlds, stories thought to be imagined and nothing more.” He smiled. It was wonderful, in the wondered sense, truly wondered.
--
Kell ingested this information, but he had little idea what it could mean. This was all conjecture, and he knew how exhausted he was. It was hard to think, and he dearly wished that Lila was here with him. Somehow, he suspected that she would be a bit more nimble on her toes about this, especially since, once in her lifetime, something similar had already happened to her.
“And do all these worlds have magic?” Kell asked, straining to figure out what could possibly be important.
...
He had not spoken with everyone or knew every world. Still, given what stories Gansey had read, what television shows and movies he knew existed, he doubted they all had magic. “Most of the ones I know of do,” Gansey shared, “but I would not be surprised if one or more of them lacked it. Ah, yes, Captain Kirk from Star Trek is here. To my knowledge they don’t have magic.”
Gansey sighed. “There isn’t inherently anything wrong with that sort of world. Every world will have its wonders. But I am so glad to be from a world with magic,” he shrugged. Perhaps it was judgmental, of those other wonders. But Gansey felt awed when he saw many wondrous things, places, people. Anything more.
--
If all this magic was conjoining in a single place, was this some kind of ploy to destroy the doors between worlds? Everything just seemed like an utter guess. There was no ground for understanding -- Kell didn’t even know how connected his world (worlds?) was to these other ones. If there were so many infinite iterations, why was his London joined to four others? Did it have to do something with the development of Londons?
“Captain Kirk?” Kell repeated, frowning.
He pressed a thumb to his forehead, ignoring the ache in his wrist. He envied the wonder that Gansey had for magic if he came from a world with magic. It had been a long time since he had seen that.
“What else is important to know about being here?”
…
“James T. Kirk born in, well, I believe he’s the alternate universe one, so space, not Iowa,” Gansey corrected himself mid-sentence. Some facts were easy to retain, whether he tried or not. Some level of cultural knowledge circulated to become something else when actually meeting people. “Point being, for all the space travel and impressive technology in that universe, there is not magic.” Star Wars Gansey felt less certain to be able to make such a declaration. He lacked an in depth understanding of the Force and the extensive galaxy populated by all sorts of species and beings.
Kell reminded him terribly of his mother just then. Save that he pressed against his own forehead instead of someone else’s. Still, for a moment, that ache swelled. Then her voice told him not express such a sad emotion, the phrase returning. It passed.
“When it comes to being here on this cruise,” Gansey began smaller, “Practically everything is paid for via the band they give you, which opens the door to your room. There’s food and various entertainment, when we’re at sea. The robots who run the ship are mostly helpful. They despise violence, even sparring. There are specific rules for each port, the largest being to return to the ship on time.
“Violence can and has happened. At our first port, this being our second, Atlantis was attacked by Sirenia. The robots used technology to make nothing able to hit the ship, the same technology they use to prevent harm to themselves if you attack them, but many of the people who chose to fight in defense of Atlantis were hurt, some seriously. Middle Earth, where we are docked now, is a beautiful land on a large continent. Portals have been established to main locations. There are some dangers. You can, however, use the band to be teleported instantly back to your room in the ship. I don’t know if the ship is warded against other magical transportation.
“More generally, after adventures the portal takes us on, we usually return to a town called Tumbleweed, Texas which is in the United States. Some place familiar to you and some of your things may arrive. Even if a place doesn’t, the inside of your apartment might be decorated with your things. In fact, even here, you may find the closet has your clothes and some possessions. In Texas, we do need jobs and means, to pay for our necessities. But mostly, people come and go without warning. One young gentleman has set up a system so that we are informed when people actually disappear from the world. It does nothing to soften the blow, but it brings certainty. We don’t know how long we’re here, only that we are, and we do not seem to bring memories of this place back to our world if we return. We’ve had a few… returning visitors, so to speak.”
Some of those things were explained in a pamphlet, but it was better coming from a person, better still from one who had gone through the same experience. Kell, unlike Gansey, hadn’t had someone he already knew here. That much was clear. So Gansey could be that person. “Whatever was happening before, whatever your life was before, you have a new one here. It may, in time, involve familiar faces. But there are new friendships to be made and much to explore,” Gansey concluded. Hopefully it was not too much information. But at the least, Kell was not locked in a room with glass between them. It was something.
--
Kell felt as if he was only catching every other word that Gansey was saying. He forced himself to focus. You are healing even now, he reminded himself. Antari are hard to kill. He knew it wasn’t that simple, though. The physical injuries were one thing, but the emotional and mental were another entirely. He was burned out. He’d been arrested by Maxim. He’d left Red London, perhaps not ever intending to return. That betrayal had been compounded by his decision to travel to White London -- which had immediately had serious ramifications for Rhy.
And now this.
He needed to sleep, and he knew it, but he also knew that he had to make himself keep going. So, he did, frowning.
When Gansey reached the end, Kell still felt the implicit need to argue, even though there wasn’t apparently anyone he could actually argue this point here. This wasn’t his life, and this couldn’t be his life. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t really know where he did belong at this point, but he knew it wasn’t here.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
…
There had been little, practically no, expectations for Kell’s response to all the new information. It was too much to understand fully so quickly after arriving. Gansey had needed time, and Kell would have it. Gansey hadn’t known of anyone leaving within hours, days even, of their arrival. It was possible, it was possible Kell would disappear before them, but Gansey chose to act as though Kell were staying, as if he were as real, as permanent as the rest of them.
Gansey thought for a moment and a moment longer. It had been Christmas. And it was currently? Yes, February. “A bit under two months,” Gansey replied. He was fairly new. It was his first adventure away from Tumbleweed. “It feels like less.” Time did that for him. He couldn’t help it.
He looked across at Kell, at his two colored eyes (Gansey wanted to ask, but he didn’t just yet). “It may feel like you’re alone here,” without anyone he had ever known. Gansey couldn’t claim to be that. “But you aren’t, not anymore,” he declared. “You have a friend. You have me.” Because he could stake everything on that. He did everytime he met one of them.
…
Months. He would likely be here months. Disbelief flooded through him. He had never gone days without using one of his doors, let alone months.
He tried to recenter himself at Gansey’s words. He was lucky to have found someone who was willing to be friendly, he told himself. This was better than the normal situation, he tried to tell himself. He was used to being in cities surrounded by people who were mostly strangers. This wasn’t any different than that. (But it was, because he couldn’t leave under his own power, and he wanted to go because Rhy needed him.)
All the same. There wasn’t anyone to fight here right now. Just someone who was trying to help. He tried to think of what Rhy would do in this situation.
“Thank you,” was the best he could come up with.
...
Gansey nodded. “You’re welcome,” he replied. A little magnanimous. More earnest. He was just being Gansey then, trying hard to just be the Gansey that spent time with his friends, that was there for him. They all had something more in their lives, just coming here. This was more, beyond what they had known, had lived, before. Mostly. Gansey could help the familiar feeling, the lived in-ness of the moment.
And he could see Kell’s exhaustion. His tells were something to learn, still, the personal ones, those with unique messages on Kell’s brows, but bodies were somewhat universal. Exhaustion among that. Kell had had a long day, likely before he traveled here, and coming here only made it longer. He wouldn’t impose himself longer than was good for Kell.
“I can go,” Gansey said with a smile, “but you’re welcome to join us in our exploration any day you wish. And I very much hope you will.” His eyes sparkled. “What do you know of Middle Earth?” He could share it all. He wanted to. Once Kell had rested.
…
“Exploration another day would be good,” Kell said. Right now that was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it would be smart to get a better sense of his bearings and admittedly, he didn’t want to stay cooped up on the boat for a long stretch of time.
“Middle Earth?” Kell echoed. He shook his head. “I don’t know anything.” ...
Gansey beamed and took half a step forward, so they felt close together, even with the remaining distance. Leaning forward, further, conspiratorially, Gansey spoke softly, though he could not help his voice rising as he went on, “I’ll tell you everything, of elves and hobbits, of dwarves and man, of their magic and their vast histories, the wonders and horrors, stories of glory and ruin, of heroes and common folk.” It sang like a song within him.
He wanted to begin right then. At least something simple. There and Back Again. But Gansey pulled himself back with a wide grin and tipped his head. “Welcome aboard,” he echoed. “I’ll be here.”
…
Kell was surprised at the sudden movement forward; he didn’t really like people being overly close to him, but there was nothing threatening in the momentum of Gansey’s movement.
He was quietly amused, and perhaps also, a little touched, by the passion the boy had for the world they were in -- a world that was not his own. Kell had always been intrigued by the places he’d visited, but he doubted he had the same sort set of eyes as Gansey, which, he suspected, was part of the appeal for the boy of meeting other people from these worlds.
When Gansey drew back again, Kell looked to Ronan.
“My brother is too friendly, too,” he said.
...
Ronan had tensed when Gansey moved, but nothing happened. He nevertheless remained coiled, ready to spring.
He was not expecting to be addressed, and certainly not so familiarly. He had been watching Kell’s chest - a fighting trick, because if you were watching an opponent’s face you would miss all their strikes - and waiting for him to telegraph his next move, but he felt Kell’s eyes on him, and his eyes flicked up to meet that unsettling, two-toned gaze.
His eyes flickered, the quick passage of an unreadable emotion, and then his scowl deepened. It hadn’t been an insult, precisely, but he didn’t like this stranger thinking that he had Ronan and Gansey’s relationship figured out. He didn’t know the half of it.
But Ronan did not make any move to fight him on it or even correct him on it. He stayed where he was, silent and tense and glowering.
--
Gansey sighed, shaking his head slightly. At Kell’s determination, at Ronan’s continued, deepened glower in response. But neither statement bothered him, not really. He was friendly, now, because he wanted to be, because he was confident in himself, in them. Later, perhaps, the doubt would creep in, and Gansey would look for moments when he said the wrong thing. Would perhaps wonder if he had been too friendly. But Kell hadn’t reacted poorly to him, to anything he said. Well, at least, not as it concerned Gansey.
“Something you’ll just have to bear,” Gansey declared gently. He was simply glad Ronan was no less friendly in the moment. Gansey had asked. Not having hoped for more, he was satisfied with the two of them first meeting each other.
His eyes considered Kell, considered the right parting gesture. It hadn’t grown yet. But they would have one. His head inclined, making eye contact. “See you later,” he declared.