Things are complicated. Complicated, and messy, and there's a lot in the air. The tension in the air in general is thick, and it's hard to tell if it's intrapersonal relationships, the fact that they're trying to turn magic back on like they're some form of IT department, or just because it's a Tuesday. It's all a huge mess. The sad thing is that for Quentin, this almost feels normal.
Except, of course, for the elephant in the room. Alice Quinn is across from him, books and scrolls and everything they can possibly get a hold of to try to figure out the next step to find the next key. Quentin can almost feel her presence even though all they're doing is reading, and he keeps looking up occasionally, keeps reading the same page two or three times, keeps focusing on what they once were.
Yeah, he's not going to get any work done, and he finally closes the book with a loud snap.
Alice isn't sure magic being turned back on the best idea, that's what she doesn't say out loud to everyone else. She's helping because -- well she needs something to focus on, especially after her dad died (after her dad was killed because of things she did as a niffin, it was her fault) -- but that feeling gnaws at her stomach all the same. Magic consumed her brother. Consumed her. It takes and takes and takes.
Maybe they were better off without it.
And then there's the Quentin of it all which is its own set of complications and problems. He snaps the book close and it makes her head pop up in surprise a little before she nods.
"Yeah, okay."
She closes her own book. She knew most of the information in it anyway.
"Let's start with the fact that I don't know what we're even doing anymore." Which is completely not a fair way to start a conversation but it comes flying out of his mouth anyway, even if he immediately regrets it. It's Alice, and Quentin loves Alice, but lately it's been tumultuous at best.
His jaw flexes, gaze dipping down just for a split second before he forces himself to look at Alice--he's the one that started this, he's the one that kicked the proverbial hornet's nest, and the blonde across from him at least deserves eye contact.
'We're' should have been 'you,' but it's too late to take that back, either. Mostly, he's just frustrated that the one person he loves more in the world is several feet away and he doesn't know if he can just kiss her or not.
Alice stiffens at his words, they feel like little daggers digging into her skin. In truth, she doesn't know what they're doing either. She loves Quentin, she always will, but she doesn't know how to be with him anymore. She doesn't know how to even be herself anymore, or who that is now. She's not the girl she was before. She's not who she was as a niffin either.
"Well, that makes two of us then."
Her words are clipped and defensive, as they often are these days.
She sounds defensive, and part of Quentin wants to kick himself for being a dick straight out of the gate. The other part, the part he hates, takes just a little too much satisfaction at dragging people down to his level of misery. He manages to swallow it down. Alice doesn't deserve this. Alice deserves the goddamn world. Even now.
Especially now, when things are messy and complicated. Half of it is Quentin's fault, and he gets up to sit just a little bit closer to her, joining her on the couch and twisting his body to properly face her. His voice softens, an apology without apologizing, and he speaks again.
"It's not that easy, Quentin. You can't just fix this -- you can't just fix me."
And that's what it still feels like sometimes, like he wants her to be the girls she was before, the one he fell in love with. But she doesn't know how to be that girl anymore, not after being a niffin. Not after knowing everything and feeling so little for what felt like so long. Sometimes she feels like she doesn't even know how to be human at all anymore.
Her pieces don't fit together the way they should.
And if she can't be okay with that, how can she expect anybody else to be?
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lmk if this works
Except, of course, for the elephant in the room. Alice Quinn is across from him, books and scrolls and everything they can possibly get a hold of to try to figure out the next step to find the next key. Quentin can almost feel her presence even though all they're doing is reading, and he keeps looking up occasionally, keeps reading the same page two or three times, keeps focusing on what they once were.
Yeah, he's not going to get any work done, and he finally closes the book with a loud snap.
"Hey, so..." The worst part:
"Can we talk?"
it totally works
Maybe they were better off without it.
And then there's the Quentin of it all which is its own set of complications and problems. He snaps the book close and it makes her head pop up in surprise a little before she nods.
"Yeah, okay."
She closes her own book. She knew most of the information in it anyway.
"What do you want to talk about?"
no subject
His jaw flexes, gaze dipping down just for a split second before he forces himself to look at Alice--he's the one that started this, he's the one that kicked the proverbial hornet's nest, and the blonde across from him at least deserves eye contact.
'We're' should have been 'you,' but it's too late to take that back, either. Mostly, he's just frustrated that the one person he loves more in the world is several feet away and he doesn't know if he can just kiss her or not.
no subject
"Well, that makes two of us then."
Her words are clipped and defensive, as they often are these days.
no subject
Especially now, when things are messy and complicated. Half of it is Quentin's fault, and he gets up to sit just a little bit closer to her, joining her on the couch and twisting his body to properly face her. His voice softens, an apology without apologizing, and he speaks again.
"I just--I want to fix this."
no subject
And that's what it still feels like sometimes, like he wants her to be the girls she was before, the one he fell in love with. But she doesn't know how to be that girl anymore, not after being a niffin. Not after knowing everything and feeling so little for what felt like so long. Sometimes she feels like she doesn't even know how to be human at all anymore.
Her pieces don't fit together the way they should.
And if she can't be okay with that, how can she expect anybody else to be?