Duplicity - IC Inbox

[amicustenebris]

You have reached the office of Mister Gold. I cannot answer you at the moment. Please leave a detailed message, and I will return your call at my earliest convenience.

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[fortitudosalutis]

[ There's no great production. Gold just touches a finger to the pot and then it happens. Steam rises. Miracles usually come with more blood, and brutality.

He rocks back on his heels. ]

Okay. That's something. That just happens, huh?

[amicustenebris]

[ He tilts his head up at him. ]

Sometimes a thing works whether or not you can see the mechanisms at work.

[fortitudosalutis]

Like faith.

[ Carver watches him for a long moment. He knows all about faith now. ]

Or gravity. I guess.

[amicustenebris]

Precisely.

[ A little smile, but he steps back to his station to continue working -- at the cutting stage at this point.

This is oddly the most relaxed he's felt since -- he can't remember. It's just very normal, and the first thing that's felt normal. But realizing it sends a shock of tension up his spine. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver watches him for a moment longer, shifting - unconsciously - to stand at attention. It's strange, suddenly, how Gold reminds him of Pope. Not physically - Pope always held himself differently, like a large cat ready to explode into motion - but something in the way that Gold speaks. Yeah.

It sparks similar. Some things just are. Doesn't make them easy, but you accept them.

Carver twitches, then goes back to deal with the kale. ]

Someone teach you that?

[amicustenebris]

[ He doesn't glance up from his work. It creates a safe barrier. His answer is almost playful. ]

To cook? Or that I cannot see everything?

[fortitudosalutis]

The second part.

[ Most people don't learn to cook on their lonesome. That part's assumed. But knowing that would mean something personal about Gold, and that feels like a line that ought to be left alone for now.

He deals with the kale, in the meantime. ]

[amicustenebris]

Part of it is like what you said about faith. Or wind. That part everyone learns when they're young. It's usually the easiest way for an adult to explain to a child that there are not always answers. The rest was self taught. Personal observation.

[ He had a lot of time for that.

The first line of noodles are cut, tossed in flour to stop them sticking together. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Caver keeps an eye on the kale, but it's a waiting game at this point. He's more interested in Gold right now, trying to suss him out. There's so much he doesn't know, that he has no context for.

He gets a strainer ready, in the meantime. Might as well have it out. ]

So, who did you observe?

[ He cocks his head. ]

Or what?

[amicustenebris]

Magic. The lives of others. The mechanisms of governments. Changing traditions. Really, all the things you see in a very long life.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Interesting phrasing right there. Carver turns it over in his mind, watching intently. ]

You're older than you look, then.

[amicustenebris]

Yes.

[ No point in not admitting to being old; it already works against him. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver's eyebrows go up. He doesn't push, doesn't scoff. He would have in a different moment, if this place hadn't already knocked him on his ass about what's possible and what's insane.

Magic is real. So are other things. And he's cooking dinner with a man he let at his throat with a straight razor. ]

How old are you?

[amicustenebris]

...How old do I look?

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver shrugs. He's not good at judging that sort of thing, but going on sight alone, he'd suspect Gold and Pope are around the same age. ]

Don't know. Mid fifties?

[ He suspects the answer is something a touch stranger. ]

[amicustenebris]

[ ...That's fair, honestly. ]

Add about two hundred years more.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Well damn. All right, then. Carver doesn't react overly much, just watches Gold. ]

That unusual, with the magic?

[amicustenebris]

It's just part of who I am.

[ Only the Dark One has life eternal, after all. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver wonders if that's separate from the magic. Some people are innately good at shit. He's watched movies, he knows that much. Magic has rules like anything else. Only thing is, he doesn't know them.

He needs to, he thinks. ]

Is it just you, after all that time?

[amicustenebris]

There's always people. [ Whether he wants them around or not. They're kind of needed; the Dark One is nothing without magic to sell for the right price. ]

Sometimes close ones.

[ And then, well.

He's here, now. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Close can mean a lot of things. Could mean family, could mean the sort of people you'd run through the fire for. Absently, Carver reaches up to touch the pendant he wears. Just for a moment. He doesn't own many things - not that he can hold in his hands and say, this is mine. This means something.

He turns away before that thought can spiral. He'll find his people again.

He always does. ]

Kale won't take long. I'll cook the sausage. When the noodles are done, I'll just toss everything together. Easy.

[amicustenebris]

These will only need a couple minutes in boiling water, so when the sausage is nearly finished, let me know.

[ It's clear that neither of them much care for having other people in their space, so it's unusual and a touch refreshing that Gold just...doesn't mind. It's a rare instance of occupying space with a person, technically spending time with one another, but not having to speak at length or engage each other heavily. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver just nods and returns to his work. Talking would mean acting social, checking his reactions constantly, and that shit's exhausting. He isn't fit for company anymore, not beyond the circle of his people - a circle that grows smaller with every death and every passing day. Pope's gone. So are Bossie and Turner, Powell, so many others. He fears, deep down, that one day he'll forget their names. That he'll start to say them and stumble.

That would be unforgivable, he thinks.

He cooks, in the meantime. It's something real, something concrete he can focus on.

Eventually: ]

They're about ready now.

[amicustenebris]

[ Gold brings over a gently made bundle of fresh and floured noodles. The other pot, as with the other one, seems to spring to life and heat on its own, bubbling up to catch the delicate objects the second they fall in. ]

They'll need straining in a couple minutes.

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver stains the kale, in the meantime, and then sets it aside. It’s not a complicated meal, in the end. You follow the steps on down the line, one after another m, and then at the end you have something good. His grandmother taught him this one. A raging alcoholic, but she was a good goddamn cook.

He rinses the strainer out, then sets on the counter next to the stove. Ready when needed. ]

That’s a Hell of a trick.

[ He watches the water, curious. It’s almost alive, isn’t it? ]