Participants:
| Scene Title | The Ghost of Kazimir Volken |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Magnes has a visitor, who is not the dead man he thinks it is… |
| Date | February 25, 2010 |
It's been a relatively nice two days, except the getting banned from Old Lucy's part. Magnes spent most of the day doing band practice and working on his corset project, but right now, at around 7pm, he's just finished the laundry.
Standing at the dressing in the far corner of his still geeky room, with the new addition of an expensive looking piano keyboard, and a futon on the floor where someone else sleeps, he's putting clothes away. The clothes he's putting away in the first basket are a female's, and he stops for a moment, holding the panties up, then places them into the drawer. "Sable's staying here for free, I should at least get her into the habit of doing her own laundry…" he shakes his head, snickering to himself, then starts folding shirts and pairs of jeans.
He himself is only wearing a white t-shirt with green Riddler question marks all over it, and a pair of blue jeans. "I mean really, every time a girl stays with me, I end up doing the housework, the cooking, everything. I'm like a housewife. I bet if Eileen lived with me…" He shakes his head at the thought, cheeks going red for a moment, then just continues putting things away.
"Magnes… J… Varlane…" Varlane…
The voice is unfamiliar; a whisper that echoes, hollow and atonal, louder and softer in turns as if it were both close and far away. A strange dichotomous existance is presented, therefore, by the voice and the subtle shape that he may soon notice. A tatter of stretched, torn blackness that creeps along the wall, quivering and shuddering as it does so as if it were getting hung up on things along the way.
"I rather think that you have enough female problems in your life without fantasizing about Eileen, boy…" Boy…
Magnes drops a shirt, eyes scanning the room until he spots the shadow. His hand reaches out for the scabbard laying against the wall, willing it to fly into his palm so he can quickly draw it and hold the blade out to the figure. It's a fairly ornate saif of damascus steel. "Who are you? There's only one person who talks to me like that, but… that's impossible. What's going on?"
"And here I thought you had learned, by now… there is no such thing as impossible." Impossible… The tattered darkness roils upon the wall, ever-shifting as if some breeze were stirring it, though the air was clear, "At least you have the common sense to reach for a weapon when you're surprised, now, although it wouldn't be of much use against me… not anymore…"
"I do hope you've done something with your life since returning other than fantasizing about women, Magnes?" Magnes…
"I'm taking a bit of a women break. Claire found someone new, as much as that eats me up, and I guess I just had a boatload of epiphanies." Magnes sheathes his sword again, invisibly moving it back against the wall as he eyes the shadow a bit more. He's seen something similar done by both Gabriel and Cardinal, so it's not so much the shadow that makes him uneasy, but the fact that, well, a ghost.
He turns back to folding clothes, and when he's done with the female ones, he opens another drawer and starts doing the same with his clothes. "I applied to a few colleges, I'll be starting in the next semester. And thanks to the Petrellis, I'll be Tracy Strauss' intern starting next week. I kind of look up to her, because she's everything I'm not, and I really wanna work with her."
It isn't quite like either of them, though; not the attenuated darkness of Wu-Long's power, stolen by Gabriel, nor the solid shadow of Cardinal's own, but something… broken. A ghost, perhaps, indeed. As he said - stranger things have happened.
"You didn't sound quite like you were taking a break when I came in. Baby steps, I suppose, baby steps… a man can't change overnight." Overnight… The fluttering darkness trails along the wall, musing, "Tracy Strauss… an interesting choice. Have you decided to go into politics, then, Mister Varlane?" Varlane…
"My bandmate, Sable, she lives with me. I don't want her homeless and out there where it's dangerous, so I told her she could stay with me for free. That's why I have female clothes here, and the futon. And hey, I can think about Eileen sometimes, it's not like I'd ever go for her or anything, way out of my league. She's just a really good friend. No more dating for me, for… a very long time. Claire's still a fresh and very deep wound that'll probably never heal, but I can at least patch it up." Magnes closes his drawer now, then heads to the bed so he can take a seat and stare at the shadow. "Yeah, politics. It seems like the ideal choice, all my weaknesses involve not knowing the right thing to do, not thinking before I speak, or proper planning. Politics are the perfect thing to plug all of my major weaknesses, especially working under Tracy Strauss."
"You would be surprised, Magnes, what wounds time will heal… but the scars, those you may carry for a lifetime, true." True enough… The shadows coil back in amongst themselves, almost a cohesive solid, though the edges seem to drift and pull away from the rest. "An intelligent decision. She's a career woman, many contacts, and certainly can teach you the proper etiquette that you lack. Assuming you listen. You can listen, and learn, when you choose to."
"Almost my entire life has been learning. Lesson after lesson at home with my parents. To be honest, I could probably have used my academic records to get into a good college on my own, but, better safe than sorry." Magnes shrugs, fiddling with his remote now, but his eyes go wide a bit when something hits him. "Oh yeah, I had dinner with Peter Petrelli last night. He asked me something. Have you ever heard of Felicia Varlane? She's in FRONTLINE. He was wondering if I'm related to her, and to be honest, I have no idea. You heard the name before?"
"Peter…" Peter… The echoing voice trails off, silent a moment, "How is he… adapting? And I've heard of her, yes, she's the head of Team Two, I believe? I don't know if you're related, you'd have to do some searching through the records, although given how coincidences seem to go in this city…" An emotionless, hollow little chuckle from the tattered shadows, "…well, it seems likely." Likely…
"Peter's fine, happy, very happy. He's even happier than he was in the comic. He seems to be with Kaylee, not sure why he's not with Gillian, since she was going crazy waiting for you to come out of him." Magnes reaches for the beat-up copy of The Art of War he was given by Eileen, staring down at the cover. "I'm twenty-two now, I had a small birthday gathering. And, well, I went on this raid with a few people, saved test subjects who were being experimented on by Refrain. Oddly, it was by Bella, my therapist. Turns out she's some evil mad scientist, but, I can't really accept that she's some very bad person. I trusted her more than anyone, and, I can't believe it was all lies, there had to be some truth, I'm sure she cares about me a little… She can't see me as a test subject, we became real friends, she invited me over to her house and I told her off the record stuff."
"Gillian…" A sigh stirs, hollow and echoing, "…no, they wouldn't be together. Happy Birthday, Mister Varlane. May this year be better than your last…" Your last… The echo has a disturbing note of finality that the more hopeful words that began it didn't hold.
"But don't be naive, Magnes. Anyone can put up a false face of friendship, to put you off your guard, get you to tell them things. Not everyone has a core of goodness in them like you seem to believe." Believe…
"Yeah, I guess not. Took me over a year to realize things about Abby. And I have no idea what's going on with Raith. But I'm sure that's something else I can learn from Tracy; how to be more suspicious. The one guy I was always suspicious of, ended up saving the freakin' world, so that shows how good I am at judging someone's character." Magnes says a touch bitterly, then stands to head over to his keyboard after moving the futon out of the way. He plugs things in, pulling a computer chair up behind it. "Sable's gonna be back soon, so unless you want a rowdy teenager punching my wall, you might not wanna stick around too long. But, I mean, what do you do now? If you're some sort of ghost, or something else, you can't just wander the streets aimlessly. You wanna watch TV or something? Or um, maybe I can take you to see Eileen?"
There's silence for a long moment, before the shadows uncoil, rippling like tearing silk across the wall towards the window. "I'll be back to check on you from time to time. And… it's best if… Eileen doesn't know about me just yet. Or anyone. I trust you can keep this meeting discreet, Mister Varlane?" Varlane…
"Yeah, sure, and um, if you could, maybe check in and make sure Claire's doing alright too. I'm trying not to see her too often, kind of makes all my progress with myself immediately revert back to zero because I instantly want her again." Magnes walks over to the door and opens it when he hears someone entering from the back. "I'll see you later, then. Nice to know you're at least… sort of alright."
"Don't concern yourself over my fate, Mister Varlane. Worry instead about your own." Your own…
And then, as suddenly as he came, he's gone. Like a ghost.