The Unbearable Lightness of Fleeing [John + Willy]

[prodigalflame]

John was sitting at a cafe. In a mall. It was the same mall in which Bobby worked, but he tended to push that detail to one side and focus on the fact he didn't really know any other malls to go to

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[willysilver]

"Ah, my fried, we meet again," Willy said, friendly as could be. He took the opposite seat and stretched his legs out to get comfortable. Hands on the table, he studied John for a long moment and tried to remember his names.

Mortal names. There were so many and he cared not for the power of names unless it suited him to recall. And it rarely suited him.

"Are you waiting for sweet Bobby?" he inquired.

[prodigalflame]

John looked up from his book, deer-in-the-headlights-startled before his expression slid into something a little more sly and a lot more cynical. No, this was not a set-up. This was just his dumb luck.

The universe didn't like him - and John really couldn't blame it.

Putting his book to one side, his place marked with a strip of leather, he snorted, mostly to himself. "Please do up a chair," he muttered, grumbling good naturedly. The other man had already plonked himself down. Between this guy and Bobby grabbing him, could he not get a moment to himself? No, he could not.

"Uh, no, I'm not here for - sweet Bobby," John explained, trying not to laugh. Honest. "I don't think of him as sweet, and, if I was waiting for him, I get the feeling he'd punch me out. You?"

[willysilver]

"I was playing outside. I came in for a drink," he replied honestly. In truth, if he had had any other choice for somewhere to get a drink he would have gone there. The mall was large and open but he felt confined. Whatever the weather, Willy preferred to see the sky and breathe fresh air.

"Would he really punch you? Such violence," he said. He understood that there had been friendship and betrayal, but Bobby had been reticent and he had not inquired further.

[prodigalflame]

"What do you do for play?" John asked, genuinely curious. "I get that you're not human; your...socialisation's a bit off. Different patterns of speech, social expectations, that sort of thing. It's not mutantcy, as you would have been raised by people and picked it all up from them."

John always liked puzzles: mostly because of the kick he got out of solving them. "So what are you, exactly, and what makes you tick? The violence of humanity obviously perplexes you, but I'm sure something manages to stir your passions."

[willysilver]

"Astute," the fae replied, bristling a bit at the direct questions. He couldn't outright lie, that wasn't in him. But he could weave around the queries with delicate grace, answering and not answering at the same time.

"I play guitar, and people put money in my case," he replied. He made far more money than most people assumed. He was charming that way. "I am but a musician," he continued lightly. "And it is hardly the violence of humanity in general. Mortals are beasts to one another. No, I am merely curious about friends, betrayal, and the boy I know raising a fist to...anyone, really."

[prodigalflame]

"Oh, so you're immortal," John reasoned, because he could fence words with the best of them. Possibly not those whose eloquence had been honed over centuries, but he knew evasion when he heard it. "You referred to mortals as if we weren't you. I heard of a few mutants who had the immortality gene, but you're not acting as if you're singular, some sort of freak show. You're acting as if immortality is the norm for you, so your whole people must be-"

He blinked, his thoughts had run too far ahead before his perspective finally caught up. "An entire race of immortals? Wow. That's cool. Puts things in perspective."

"Speaking of perspective, Bobby wouldn't hit anyone unless they deserved it. And I deserve it. Almost wish he'd kick my ass just to get it over and done with." There was a pause. "That would involve him still caring enough to kick me, though."

[willysilver]

Willy listened to the boy reason aloud and his head tilted to the side incrementally until it looked as if he was trying to discern where a strange sound might be coming from. Enough people knew he was different and John hadn't chosen faerie as a label or even a slur, so the world was right for Willy.

And yet there was a question in his eyes and written all over his face.

"What is a mutant?" he asked.

[prodigalflame]

John opened his mouth. Realisation dawned. There were words - he was trying to say something, but he wasn't sure what it was going to be until it fell out, and there was no sound. Instead, he looked a bit like a fish, gaping for air

[willysilver]

"Not exactly, but it will suffice," he said. He doubted very much that the sort of magic that Bobby could do- that the other boy could do, too, apparently- was anything as simple as natural selection. Nor could he believe that a mortal with green skin was remotely the same as these boys. This was magic, a sort he was unfamiliar with but one he was perfectly comfortable with. There was more magic in the world than one might imagine.

"You were both born with these...talents," Willy continued thoughtfully. "It is curious, is it not, that you two have been friends and now are not. Perhaps not, it does not surprise me. Djinn are not often friends with Glaistig."

[prodigalflame]

And John was very post-Enlightenment about it all, for all that his mother had raised him with rosary beads and rites. Besides, it allowed him a chance to lock his powers into a nice little box where they could be understood.

"We went to school together, but you know, I fucked up. It was like a...tribal thing. One group wanted to be at peace, and be kind to everyone, all that kind of stuff. Another group thought that since we had powers like gods, everyone else became an insect, right? And who bothers listening to insects? So I...left the good guys, and joined up with a group of mutants who wanted to rule the world."

There was a terrible sadness in John's eyes. He idly flicked his lighter open and closed with his thumb. "I really liked the idea of being a god there for a while. But I left him behind to do it, and all my other friends."

[willysilver]

"I listen to insects," he pointed out. "Can you change so easily? Choose to change from kindly to cruel?" Willy asked, curious about these tribes and mutants. It wounded not unfamiliar and he wondered if they had courts and customs and all the trappings that he had fled so long ago. Oh, to be a musician and hedonist among mortals. Mortals who had brief lives- something that suited him for he had the attention span of only a few heartbeats, it seemed.

[prodigalflame]

"Well. You're a better man than me," John mused, with a nod and a deliberately blank expression. An infinity of meaning lay behind those words.

"At the time I didn't think it was cruel. More like how most people don't really worry about stepping on ants before they walk. Regular humans didn't have our powers, we were - superior. It was - logical," he continued, after a pause, gesticulating with one hand as he circled for the words. "And if they feared us, and hated us, and tormented us for being different, and did not bow down and accept their extinction...I thought it was a fair judgement to step on all the ants."

Breathing in deeply through his nose, he reached over and took a sip of the tea, wrinkling as he found it sour. "I thought at the time it was us, or them. Humans or mutants. The group I used to associate with believed in co-existence, but I rejected that in the end. Bobby and I fought. Almost killed each other a few times."

He drank the tea anyway, drained it to the dregs.

[willysilver]

"How remarkable. Is your magic so well countered or were neither of you trying?" he asked. Killing the enemy was a given in his own life. It was kill or be killed and Willy never hesitated in battle. Of course there was little use for magic when fighting another fae. Cold iron, brute force, and a desire to live was all that was necessary.

[prodigalflame]

John shrugged. "I thought I was trying. Don't know if that means shit. Us mortals are full of complex motivations, right? We don't even know what's going on in our own heads let alone anyone else's. As for Bobby, well - he knocked me our rather than freeze me to death so I think that's a plus."

There was a time when John would have burned (pardon the pun) to see half the X-Men go up in flames: mostly because then he would have known it was his doing, and it would have been the victory rather than the actual death which caused his exultation.

"But now I'm just a guy playing party tricks with a lighter. No more battles for me. No more conquests, no more pedastals. No more trying to be a god. I'll focus on trying to be a functional person, to start with."

John turned his attention back to the man - thing? - in front of him, crossing his arms over the table. "So. What can you do? Or is immortality the whole gig."

[willysilver]

Willy smiled, a bright smile that rang with true happiness.

"Oh, my friend, I can do so much. I am not inclined to party tricks and do not perform on command, but if you come to the Alpha Bar on any Tuesday you will have a small taste. A very small taste."

Willy was far more powerful than he let on. He had an abundance of magic that went untapped. A song, an enchantment, a glamour, and charms. But if he chose to, and he rarely did, as a Daoine Sidhe, a lord of the fae, he could bend the elements to his will. But what was the fun in that? There was no pleasure in control, no joy in lordship. He preferred his freedom and used just enough to be happy and comfortable. All he sought was his own pleasure and gave little thought to others.

[prodigalflame]

John felt his own lips quirk into a smile: that sort of happiness was infectious. But whereas Willy's smile was bright, almost giddy, John's was muted, twisted: like pleasure was an emotion he had to wrestle with and keep under wraps.

"I think," he began slowly, "I probably shouldn't spend too much time in your company. I don't think Bobby would find it very, uh, appropriate. But I'm glad he's happy. And - " John groped for words - "it's good that you seem to know just how different you are to the rest of us. We get hurt easily, and I don't mean physically."