tɦɛ iɳquiรitѳʀ (freemarched) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-12-03 13:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, maxwell trevelyan (the inquisitor), nasir |
Who: Nasir & Max (with Lucille Trevelyan)
What: Meeting the family, on Max's end
When: Today!
Where: Seattle, apartment above a magic shop in Pike Place
Rating/Warnings: Nothing but feel good fun
Status: Complete
There was a lot to do in Seattle - one couldn’t really cram it all in, not with only four or five days to work with. But unfortunately, that was all the Inquisitor had to work with - Nasir was on holiday break from school but Max couldn’t take an eon for a vacation, not when his therapy sessions awaited. And he hated rescheduling, or canceling entirely - his professional, not personal, smartphone was always on as a just in case. It was simply one of the parts of being in the field he had chosen, that he worked around. A good place to start in Seattle was Pike Place, however, and it was essentially where Max had grown up - or he should say, where he felt most at home. The youth village hadn’t given him that. ‘Intensive residential treatment,’ they said. The center for boys, a ‘safe environment’ to help those aged 9-17 with ‘serious emotional and behavioral problems.’ Children lived in cottages or cabins (where the sewage was sometimes backed up for weeks, until it happened to be fixed), the beauty of nature and bland food dished out by bored-looking ladies wearing hairnets meant to fix everything. There were programs for his parents too, that they eagerly enrolled in - change the unwanted behaviors of your child. Max’s lone unwanted behavior was that he didn’t see the point in thumping the Bible eight days a week. It had been terrifying, looked at like such a problem. His parents couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, why didn’t he act like the children of all their religiously pious friends? What were they supposed to do, how had they failed? Aunt Lucille was outcast from the family too, technically a second cousin or something like that, but she had been (ironically) a godsend. Her small apartment above the shop she’d worked tooth and nail to acquire, and maintain, also a sanctuary for the young Trevelyan black sheep. That apartment he wouldn’t stay in now (he didn’t want to impose), but had chosen a cozy hotel in the very center of Pike Place, within walking distance to the shops and restaurants with a nice view of the bay, for his visit with Nasir. Lucille invited them for lunch, to catch up and get to meet the guy Max was so nuts over. She may even read their fortunes too, who knew - she was quirky, and funny, and Max had always liked her. It wouldn’t take long to walk to her place; he was rummaging for the room key now, remembering to slip it into his back pocket. “Ready to go?” No need to be nervous, reeeeally. There may have been no need but Nasir was anyway. Not quite as nervous as he had been meeting his parents because that was probably the scariest thing he’d ever do in his life, but it was pretty far up there. This was entirely new territory for him - he’d never met the parents (or pseudo-parent, in this case) before. Dating hadn’t really been much of a thing for him until he met Max. He had to force himself to stop fiddling with his shirt cuffs (which was not him being nervous but definitely just him being so unused to wearing things with cuffs - in true California style, he’d prefer to be shirtless and barefoot as much as possible. But it wasn’t nerves. Honest) and instead looked at Max, nodding and scraping his teeth over his lip. He let Max lead him out of the hotel, plastering himself against Max’s side. Just so he didn’t get lost. Not so he could pull his boyfriend’s arm around him to calm him down and help him feel a little more secure. “Should we get flowers or something?” he asked. “Does she like flowers? What does she like in general? So I know what to talk about.” “She does like flowers. I think most people do, unless they have a severe case of hay fever,” Max smiled, wrapping his flesh-and-blood arm (he’d worn the regular prosthetic on the left, as the lyrium-infused one would no doubt set off the explosive trace detector at the airport) around Nasir as they walked - and gladly so, if it helped to keep him calm. “We’ll stop and get some. As for what else she likes - “ His aunt Lucille wasn’t really that complicated. She was a prominent figure in his life here, somewhat of an enigma in the dreams, then again, most of his family was thanks to his being sheltered in the Circle of Magi - she threw lavish parties, that was what he recalled. Was a noblewoman to her very core. No doubt she’d get a kick from knowing about this ‘other life,’ but Max still wasn’t sure if he’d tell her that part today. “She’s very open-minded about progression and things like natural remedies - obviously, she holds stock in what she sells at the shop, it’s important to her. I think she’s very easy to talk to, so try not to worry.” They stopped at a flower stall across from the fish-throwing stand (literally, fish were tossed about to entertain customers), and Max nodded toward the colorful selections. Only $5 a bouquet too; they were beautiful flowers. “Which do you think?” ‘Easy to talk to’ could mean a lot of things, in Nasir’s experience. “Maybe she can give me a recommendation for something for after the gym. Or other workouts.” He cut his eyes to Max and nudged him in the side. But the flowers were a distraction, and he considered them for a long moment. Roses felt a little too...much, although most people seemed to like them. But he settled on a bouquet of sunflowers and offered them to Max. “What about these? They seem nice, right?” The sunflowers were nice, so Max would go with that. “Perfect,” he agreed, handing over a $5 bill and receiving their selection wrapped in brown paper. Which he handed off to Nasir. “Do you need something for after other workouts? That’d certainly be an interesting opener.” Though he was sure that Lucille would have plenty of suggestions - she was helpful like that, uh, awkwardness notwithstanding. He was just glad to have someone he could count on, not necessarily a parent by blood but someone who had loved him the way a parent should have. No doubt she’d also ask about Max’s father, but he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to talk about it. Her place wasn’t far from where the fish-throwing and flowers happened, and Max simply entered the shop when they arrived. As soon as one walked in, they were greeted with the comforting scent of organic tinctures and organic everything. Following the waft of lavender through the door meant that you’d find shelves and shelves, rows and rows, of well-organized and labelled apothecary jars containing everything from herbs and spices, teas, soaps and salves, to handmade brooms and wands. One wall was so tall and lined with wares that Lucille needed a stepping stool to reach the top portions (Max had needed one when he was a kid too, but then he grew, alas). “In the market for a broom?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Sore muscles are no joke,” Nasir said, dropping his voice before saying, “Not sure the guys at the gym would understand that I’m a little off because my boyfriend fucked me so well.” He smirked and squeezed Max around the middle. But actually, it would be nice to have something to soothe the ache. From either kind of ‘workout’. And then they were off, and Nasir’s nerves returned full force, and he was glad that his hands were occupied between Max and the bouquet. It was thankfully a quick walk between the market and Lucille’s shop so he didn’t have time to work himself up too much. The shop was small and approachable, but it felt quite intimidating to Nasir, which was ridiculous he knew. He’d faced down things much more intimidating than someone’s aunt. Although his boyfriend’s aunt, essentially the one who raised him, was a little different, but. Still. He took a deep breath and followed Max in, immediately engulfed in the soft, earthy scent of the things sold there. It was a little calming, he had to admit. Nasir glanced at the shelves. “Those don’t look like they’d do well as brooms, honestly.” The hardwood floor creaked under him when he walked further in, and Max chuckled. “They’re ceremonial brooms, that’s probably why,” he said. “I think there are Quidditch brooms too.” Also completely organic, handmade, all that fine attention to detail. He got a brief glance of the section of books, seeing what titles were available - a sign above, in scrawled letters, said for sincere seekers after Truth and Wisdom - and his eyes went right to the Necromancy ones. A few aisles over were the stones and tarot cards. “Max!” Then Lucille was on the stairs, on her way down to give the boy she’d basically adopted a hug. She swept him to her bosom like any mother would, to which he let out an oomph as she nearly squeezed him to death. Of course, the fact that he was missing an arm didn’t go unnoticed. “What happened to you??” “I’ll explain that - have to breathe first,” he got out, pulling back. “Good to see you, Lucille. This is Nasir.” Her expression was warm and friendly, fresh-faced, her dark hair streaked with grey and pulled back into a bun. She was a small, slight woman - no wonder she needed the step ladder. “It’s so nice to meet you! Here, come upstairs - let me officially put up the lunch break sign,” and she went to lock the front door, flipping around the open sign in the window to closed. “Ooh, Quidditch?” Hey, any kid that grew up with Harry Potter secretly wanted a Quidditch broom. Nasir kept examining the brooms, jumping at the sudden noise of Lucille entering. He let his partner have his moment with his aunt, smiling softly. A few months ago this would have made him jealous, which he knew was horrible; but thanks to a little helpful pushing from Max (and a lot of handholding and a little forcible dragging), he had his family again and the only thing he felt was warmth and happiness. “Hi,” he said when Max introduced him, waving a little shyly. He waited for her to lead them back upstairs, hanging back a little to give Max his time. Max glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs, looking amused - surely Lucille was just going to bombard him with questions when they got into the apartment. Though she at least waited until they were inside, and Max got to take a peek around to see if the place was as he remembered - it seemed to be. The apartment was technically spacious, but it was a “granny flat” so it only had one bedroom - however, that master bedroom had been split into two after it was clear Max had nowhere else to go, when he was a teenage runaway. Lucille took him in, and though his new space was what could be considered a very tiny bedroom it was better than where he’d been before. Much better. The ceilings were vaulted, the windows large, and there was a balcony teeming with flowers; Lucille had her own touches around the place too, whiskey bottle lights, hanging fruit baskets, colorful rugs. Speaking of flowers. “Oh, are those for me? Sunflowers are my favorite,” and yes, Max confirmed they were indeed for her. She began bustling about to put them into a vase; the kitchen opened into the living room so she just kept talking as she arranged lunch. “Have a seat in the dining room! I want to grill your boyfriend but first tell me why you have a metal arm.” “Long story,” Max smirked. “Why don’t you grill Nasir first instead?” Nasir stopped glancing around at everything - it was a cozy place, very homey and full of personality. It was nice, and he felt surprisingly comfortable. But not entirely comfortable. He elbowed Max in the side and rolled his eyes before addressing Lucille. “I’m not very interesting, I’m afraid. But I’d love to hear about you, Max has only told me a little bit.” “Nice deflection - don’t let him get away with it.” The Inquisitor grinned cheekily, but come on, he was enjoying this - it was always fun to see your partner sweat when they met your parents, or parental figure. Not that he’d ever brought anyone to meet Lucille before, however - Nasir was technically the first. “You’re terrible, he’s probably so nervous!” she chastised Max, air-thwapping him with a spatula (it didn’t quite make contact, Lucille was all talk). “But oh, let’s see - I sort of broke away from the Trevelyan money train and made my own way, without asking for handouts, so I’ve had this shop for ages. None of the family was really in contact with me - I mean, if you look at what I sell and how successful people like Max’s father have been at preaching in the pulpit, you’ll see why. So it was a surprise to see him at my doorstep one day, I’m not even sure how he found me. But how is Conrad, anyway? The old bastard?” Max shrugged, and Lucille served up lunch - having heard from someone that someone else was a fan of tacos, she’d made kind of a grownup version. Chicken tortilla lettuce wraps, and homemade guac with chips to go with them. “He said he didn’t want to see me,” Trevelyan replied, as he took the pitcher of iced tea from Lucille’s hands - she seemed surprised that the prosthetic could grip nearly as well as a flesh-and-blood-hand, but he was adept at using it by now. “Well, that’s not much of a shocker,” she dismissed. They wouldn’t dwell on what a douchebag that guy was. “So! Nasir. Help yourself to this food. What are your intentions for Max here?” And now the shit-eating grin was back. Sorry, Nasir. Nervous? No, never. Nasir was perfectly cool and collected. But he managed to laugh. It was definitely difficult to imagine either of them - from what he knew of Lucille, anyway - anywhere close to a church. He gave Max a small smile at the mention of his father and squeezed his shoulder as he passed on the way to get food. Yes, he had a thing about tacos, and he suddenly felt a lot more endeared to Lucille because of them. He was easy, apparently. And then the attention was turned on him as he took a bite of his lunch, staring at her in surprise before doing his best to swallow his mouthful whole. “Uh - “ He glanced at Max in panic. Intentions? “Nothing he doesn’t want?” Yeah that was smooth. Doing good, Nasir. The deer in headlights expression was so cute, Max thought. And such a look of pure entertainment in those whiskey-warm brown eyes. “Luckily I want pretty much everything,” he said, and of course his lovely relative took that in a way that meant...things to tease about. “Like wedding bells?!” she not so subtly hinted, pouring them all glasses of iced tea. Max almost facepalmed. “Tame your excitement. Nasir’s in college, they get busy from what I hear,” it hadn’t been that long ago since Trevelyan was a student, after all, “He’s studying History.” “Oh, that’s a good choice - what sect of History?” Lucille asked. “I’ve got plenty of occult history books, if that’s your thing.” Nasir saw that look in Max’s eyes and made a face at him, sticking his tongue out. He knew what that look meant, a combination of amusement and adoration that usually preceded a lot of poking fun at Nasir. And yes, there it was, a statement that was suggestive enough to make someone of lesser substance than Nasir blush (he got a little red in the cheeks anyway) but innocent-sounding enough to probably slip by a nice, unsuspecting relative. ...or for that relative to get their own meaning out of it. Nasir choked on his taco again and accepted the cup of tea gratefully. Something to distract him from the awkwardness, at the very least. Thankfully Max steered it away from that topic smoothly enough. “Right now it’s just general,” he said in answer to her question. “Trying to figure out what I really want to do. But I’d like to specialize a little more in Roman history. I think that’s particularly interesting.” Living it, however secondhand or...whatever the dreams were, definitely put a different spin on his interest. “But I’ll read just about anything, honestly, now that I’m on break I need something to do so my brain doesn’t rot.” “Well, I’ll see what I can find for you then!” Lucille seemed pleased with the task, and as usual, she was a font of knowledge when it came to the occult and certain witchery - do this for enough years, and you’d definitely get to be an expert. Which was why Max thought he should actually tell her. He couldn’t stand the thought of lying, in this instance - in other cases, like with Nasir’s parents for the moment, it was probably for the best. Besides, that wasn’t so much a lie but more like...omission of the truth? Anyway. “Lucille, what about books on...other selves, other lives? Jungian theory?” he asked casually, while reaching for another taco to stuff his face with. She didn’t think he was going anywhere particularly odd with this. Bless her. “You know, I just finished this one about psychotherapy of the soul and I completely thought of you - it was more about karmic complexes, but unlocking the mysteries of our past life, that’s the key to dealing with the struggles we face today. Wooler said that, good guy, makes good points,” she added, scooping up a large amount of guac on one chip. Crunch. “Why?” “You asked how I lost my arm. That’s how. Because my...other self...also lost his arm. We - I didn’t even realize I had one. Until Orange County, and then...I started these dreams - “ “No - “ Her face was frozen in shock, but clearly she was paying rapt attention. “Really??!” Lucille looked at Nasir. “Really?” “Uh,” Nasir glanced at Max. “Really?” He was sure there might be rules about telling people about the whole Weird Dreams thing, but probably more due to the fact that they sounded crazy talking about ‘other selves’ than because it was some big secret. And Lucille definitely didn’t seem to think that they were crazy. She seemed fascinated, actually. Which, if Nasir were outside of the situation, he’d probably be fascinated too, after getting over just how crazy it sounded. Even from within, as someone who had Dreams, he found them interesting. But he could due without some of the things that came with them. Like demons, just as an example. “There’s quite a few people who have these dreams, as crazy as it sounds. Not exactly his but their own.” “That’s incredible!” Obviously, Lucille believed them - though Max knew she would. Most people wouldn’t, but then again, Lucille wasn’t ‘most people.’ “Why is it concentrated to that area though? Something in the water? Oh!” She suddenly was all wide-eyed, like it just dawned on her. “It’s related to all the supposed....LSD? This explains so much, Max, so much.” He didn’t particularly understand why hallucinogens in the water was the preferred story to sell to the media (but obviously word of Orange County’s drug problem had traveled its way up the west coast, if Lucille was hearing of it in Seattle) or why only that county seemed to be a pocket of weirdness, but maybe some things were meant to be a mystery. “I don’t know,” he laughed sheepishly. “It just...happens. No one really has any solid answers. Just theories.” “Your arm though,“ she frowned a bit, her elation about what she read about in books being true deflating at the thought of Max having lost a limb because of everything. “It must have hurt, are you - “ “It didn’t, not really. It was either my life or my arm, in this case - far better to lose the arm.” And his arm was basically being eaten away by the powerful magic of the Anchor, the bones within turning black. The Anchor wasn’t even supposed to be hosted by another person anyway, it was never meant for that. “And I’m okay,” he assured. “The prosthetic took some time to get used to, but I’m comfortable wearing it now.” “Well, if you’re sure. I want to hear all about it, and everything, all these dreams,” Lucille smiled. “But first - “ She got up from her chair and brought back a holiday-decorated tin with a red bow stuck on it. “You two won’t be here for Christmas, but I made peanut butter blossoms anyway so you can take these with you. They were Max’s favorite, when he was younger.” Oh, Maker, the peanut butter blossoms. Immediately, he tore the top off the tin and grabbed for a cookie. “I’m not sharing,” he informed Nasir, around a mouthful. “Even if I do love you.” Nasir was starting to get that Lucille defintely wasn’t most people. But it was nice to be able to talk to someone outside of the situation. “Not always LSD. They also said the flu, when everyone almost died a few months ago.” He wasn’t sure why people so readily accepted ‘extremely localized drug addicts’ but it worked and...well...he didn’t want to explain half of what happened in the OC to his parents, let alone be pressed by anyone else. He reached over to rest a hand on Max’s thigh, knowing it was still a strange subject for him to talk about. But that softness left his face the instant cookies came into the equation. His eyes narrowed and he smiled at Max, though it was mostly full of evil plans and horrible promises. “You’re just lucky they didn’t let me take the spear on the plane.” “Hmm, nevermind, I guess I will,” Max sighed, like it was such a hardship to share the beloved peanut butter blossoms. Likely, they’d be polished off before he and Nasir even got back to the OC so he didn’t have to worry about sharing with friends. But he offered the tin to his boyfriend, the sign of true love right there - these peanut butter blossoms were sacred. And Lucille generally only made them around the holidays too. Sometimes for his birthday, if he was lucky. This made Lucille laugh a little. “Alright, now tell me more about the oddities of where you live - it sounds downright dangerous??” What with losing limbs and deadly influenza and all. That was probably just scratching the surface. Sometimes it could be, Max would admit. But he still wouldn’t change anything, since he found love and good friends. “Well, before we left, it actually started snowing - apparently, it does every year...” They’d be here awhile, but that was fine. He’d enjoy the time while he could, but because sometimes it was nice to return to where you considered home. |