WHAT.The Pig breaks down, Gansey airs some things out, they bond. WHERE. Monmouth WHEN. Backdated to the NPC plot! WARNINGS. Talks of death(s) and some angsty feels. STATUS. Complete!
Everything about this place was startling and exciting, terrifying and new. Owain was nearly too old for this kind of adventure. But then he'd been too old to lead a rebellion and he'd stuck out that one too. Ultimately to failure, but that was besides the point! He was enjoying himself. His exploration of Vallo and the surrounding forest and sea had been littered with interesting new discoveries already. And he was enjoying his new friends. One of which was behind the wheel of the automobile Owain now road in.
Young Gansey reminded him much of himself at that age: awkward sometimes, charming others, but utterly sincere always. He was also apparently blindly optimistic. Because he'd been talking kindly to the vehicle as it sputtered inelegantly and their speed dwindled. There was a line of cars forming behind him as they got closer and closer to a full stop. Someone honked.
"Oh!" Owain gasped. "Well that was rude. Do they all have that horn inside of them?" Another few horns joined the fray and he looked over at Gansey sheepishly. "Maybe they're meant to be encouraging?"
It had taken Gansey long enough to calm down to a point where he felt like he could drive Glendower. And then he’d stupidly talked himself into driving the Pig with the engine, and not it’s counterpart that never broke down.
This Pig had been running so well lately. Not a single breakdown in months! That should have been his first tip-off now would be the time.
“I’m afraid they’re being rude, though I would like to imagine they’re encouraging. But impatient is the better word.” Gansey let his forehead hit the steering wheel before getting them over to a parking spot on the curb, just barely making it into the spot (if you could call it that, crooked as he was) before the Pig gave out completely and died on the spot. “Sorry. I wish I could say that this never happens but-- this happens more often than you might expect.”
He peered out of the windshield and towards the familiar brown building. “I can call a friend who can come tow it to his shop, but it might take a little while. The brick building belongs to me if we want to wait?”
"People are impatient across all of time, I suppose. I was hoping we'd grow," Owain sighed. "Anyway, don't be sorry. I enjoyed my ride very much! The wind in my hair, the sun on my arm, even the bugs in my face!" He glanced towards where Gansey had indicated. The building looked structurally sound and wasn't making the same unhappy noises as the vehicle they were currently sitting in, so it seemed like a good enough option to him. He was curious by nature anyway.
"I'd love to see your building too. Is this your home? A business?" He tried to climb out of the car but the seatbelt jerked him back. With an oof sound and an embarrassed laugh, he freed himself. Everything was an experience, Owain told himself! Even the embarrassing things! He shaded his eyes with a hand and started walking towards the building. "It certainly looks large."
And a bit dreary if it was a home, but Owain didn't say that out loud. Maybe people of this time liked buildings without grass and trees around them.
Gansey smothered his little laugh at the seatbelt, it wasn’t the first time he’d had an older man fiddle around in his car. Though Mallory likely would’ve had even more of a panic attack than Gansey if he’d been faced with a true living legend.
So what if Gansey’s panic hadn’t fully settled just yet. He could disassociate with the best of them! He watched for traffic before slipping out his side of the car with a hop in his step and paused only briefly to pat the hood of the Pig reassuringly. “It used to be my home. Back in Virginia. It arrived here not long after I did but I was already living in Ronan’s house so I donated it to become a small school - they’ve moved into a larger building now so it’s back to being mine.”
It took two tries to unlock the door, and another hefty shove to get it pushed open for both of them to enter, but the aged elements were all part of it’s charm. “It’s uh- a bit of a mess inside, sorry. I mostly use it as an office and storage these days.”
Storage for all of his Glyndŵr research. Shit. “Uhh, give me- one second.” Gansey left the door open behind him for Owain to enter, but rushed ahead. Did he have enough time to scramble around and pick up all the maps and books and papers on various surfaces around Monmouth before his companion noticed? Probably not.
Owain was relieved he hadn't disparaged Gansey's old home out loud. That would've been very embarrassing after just debating the rudeness of other drivers. Even still, he had a hard time picturing the place as a home until they stepped inside and it was more comfortable. Messy, sure, but Owain was hardly a paragon of neatness at any point in his life. There were better things to do than pick up after himself.
"What is all this then?" He was terribly nosy, but Gansey hurriedly picking things up just made him more curious. He crouched to fan out a few pages of hand drawn maps with charming notes in the margins. "This looks familiar…" It took him a moment, but eventually he hummed thoughtfully. "Is this near where you found me? The landscape looks like some of Gwen's research. She was always very good at figuring out where magic would be the strongest."
Definitely not. Gansey’s face crunched up into something pained and a little worried. “It’s--” Oh, he had so many maps. Some hand drawn by him, some by others, a few purchased in Wales or other parts of Europe. “Seven years of research, mostly. That’s one of the maps of the leylines in Virginia, you were in the tunnels below the Green House.”
For a good year after finding Owain’s bones, it had been hard to talk about. He’d mourned the king he didn’t know but felt a connection to. The one that felt like he knew everything about and nothing all at once in that moment. Now, it was easier. Time had created a little well of distance between what his heart had wanted and what they’d found. “The magic there was strong, but not even that could save a spell gone wrong. Hilariously you would have been my greatest archaeological find if I’d only been in college and not just a teenager.”
"The Green House," Owain murmured, visibly intrigued. That wasn't the name they'd called it, but then hundreds of years and an ocean away probably changed things. None of his inner circle had been quite so meticulous about planning either. Not like Gansey's notes and little slips of paper. That kind of chaotic and thorough note-taking was more his own style. He set the maps aside and then spotted a pile of books on top of a short bookcase instead of inside it.
"You really did dig me up then?" he asked, climbing back to his feet to wander over to the books. One looked particularly interesting in a lived sort of way. "Is this more research? How much about me do you know exactly? I mean facts, not gossip. Wait, did you put me back in the ground or am I some kind of museum? Hopefully not an English one!" He shuddered at the thought. He should probably be shuddering a bit more at all of this but his life had always been extraordinary and odd. And if he acted bothered by anything, he might not get the opportunity to learn more. He could shudder later.
Gansey was the epitome of wincing at Owain’s questions. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to answer (he didn’t) but that he was worried about his answer not being enough. “In a manner of speaking? There was very little actual digging just-- Tunnels. Chamber doors. A tomb of sorts.” It was a very long story of how they’d ended up in the same chamber as Glendower’s body, and Gansey had to busy himself with picking up more papers-- this time he paused and squinted down at them.
He hadn’t left all these things out. The realization hit him very abruptly, and the noise he made was likely loud enough for Glendower to hear. Blue. She’d wanted him to share his research.
Gansey snapped out of his realization and was quick to turn back to Glendower. “No, no- Gods, no, never. We-- tucked you back in and sealed it back off. I don’t know if I want to honestly answer how well I know you, but I know you well enough to never sell your body out to the English.”
"That sounds about right," Owain nodded. "I wasn't sure if some of the plans were thrown out with the bathwater, you understand. I still don't know everything that went wrong and I--well. I suppose none of it matters now. I can't fix it."
He wasn't really one for being maudlin, but there was a sadness to his voice and body language. At least until Gansey's curious change in demeanor caught his attention.
"You say things like I don't know if I want to honestly answer how well I know you and I'm not sure what you expect me to say to that." He didn't sound bothered, just amused and a little confused. He absentmindedly opened the journal he found and started scanning the pages. Pages that were increasingly interesting with every few words he skimmed. "I will say, you seem to have quite the mind on you, Gansey. Oh, sorry, is it alright that I'm reading this? It's very interesting. Your understanding of ley lines is impressive!"
Gansey was pacing now. Not purely out of nervousness but what he did when he was explaining something in his head better than he was out loud. Words were never a problem with him until they suddenly were.
“It’s just that--” Maybe he should start at the beginning. Explanations would make this all easier, even if Gansey himself was slightly embarrassed by the level he’d gone to for all of this. “Go ahead. My girlfriend left it out for you.” Or really that was the only explanation he had for why the journal had been out in the first place. Gansey sighed. “When I was ten, I died on a ley line. That one.” From his spot on the floor, he pointed towards the map near Owain, and the little black coffin sticker he’d put there.
“I was brought back by a friend, who unbeknownst to me, was dying on another ley line at the same time. I heard a spirit say that I “would live because of Glendower. Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not.” Words I’ll probably never forget. But also what set me on the path of finding you.” Gansey let out a deep sigh and slumped against the corner of the pool table. “We found out a lot on the way, but the next seven years was just-- that, for me. And making some amazing friends. Falling in love. But I know that even if we only found your skeleton, your legacy will live on in a lot of people.”
Oh. Gansey had Owain's attention now. Dying on a ley line was powerful business. It was the sort of magic that their entire plan had been based on. Even though the plan ultimately failed for him, it was still very intriguing. He sat up straighter and squinted one eye as he listened, to focus better.
"That's quite the story. Quite the quest!" His expression sobered and he dipped his chin respectfully. "I am sorry about your friend. Magic is all about give and take. Circles and threes and scales being balanced. But then it sounds like you've learned that firsthand. I wish I could've helped you and your friends when the time came. But I'm comforted to know you figured it out on your own. And that my legacy was a driving force for you."
He smiled, lopsided but sincere. "That was part of my driving force all these last years. Trying to give Wales the strength to shape its own future. Well that and figuring out as much about magic as one person could." He looked amused. "I think I would've needed a few more lifetimes for that."
Gansey nodded, understanding. It felt good - a relief - to have Owain seem to get it. “We ultimately found our own path, in following yours. Which I think was half of the point? I like to think it was, anyway. I was alone for a long time until I found them, and they all very graciously set a lot of their own lives aside for me. For this,” Gansey gestured to the notebooks and papers with a still-embarrassed grimace.
They’d all been so good to him, he didn’t know if he could ever even match that in one lifetime, but he was certainly up for trying.
Now was probably his only chance for finding out more about Owain out of pure curiosity, that hadn’t slipped his notice. So much of his life had been following the academic side of it all. Gansey perked, “Would you be up for telling me about your path to discover magic? Not for research purposes, but just because I’d like to know more about what interests you.” Gansey trailed a loving hand along the edge of the pool table, to draw attention to it. “I’ll return the favor and teach you how to play Welsh Snooker? It involves knocking balls around.”
Lucky for Gansey, Owain was fond of telling stories, particularly about magic and alright, the ones about himself too. But he was even more fond of learning new things. He lit up like a firecracker and carried the journal over to the table. He wasn't quite done perusing it yet, but he was easily distracted by shiny things.
"Welsh Snooker you say? I would like to learn that very much. And it's more than a fair trade for a few stories." He set the journal carefully down on a side table, respectfully closing its cover. And then he put his hands on his hips as he stared down the felt-covered table with open curiosity. "I'll start at the beginning. When I was young and foolish and very nearly ended up cursed..."