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open rp post

MOSTLY ACTIONSPAM ★ PICTURE PROMPTS OR OTHERWORDLY PROMPTS WELCOME ★ TELL ME WHO YOU WANT IN THE HEADER

★ MUSELIST

( code from supersuits | gif from ahgiffers )

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[striketwice]

[ He makes a vague motion with his hand ]

The fix-it magic. That's Mending.

Wizards have a lot of bullshit names for types of magic.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He huffs out a breath. ]

I mean, can't be that bullshitty. It does what it says on the tin, I guess? It mends. [ And he enunciates the word a bit more than necessary. ]

Unless you guys call, like that electricity thing you do something seriously stupid, like, the dance if Zeus.

[striketwice]

[ He laughs a little. He wouldn't put it past some wizards to get that pretentious. ]

I probably never would have picked it up if that's the case. It's called Elementalism. The chameleon thing is Illusion. The throw people into walls thing is Destruction. The shield thing is Defense. And on and on. There's like ten schools of magic.

[nostalgiabomb]

Is it something anyone can learn? Or do you just gotta be lucky? [ asked mildly, but he's interested in the answer, all the same.

although no one should ever let peter quill have access to magic. that's just irresponsible. ]

[striketwice]

I can teach you the marks, but the magic's genetic. Unless your old man was a wizard, you'll just be waving your hands in the air for no reason.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He puffs out a quiet sigh from between his lips. ]

Figures.

[ He tosses the ice pack onto the table, swapping it for the foul-smelling tea. He takes a deep breath, holding it in his lungs before forcing himself to take another mouthful. It helps to dull the taste a little, but not by much, and he goes right back to making that disgusted face.

Once he’s convinced he’s kept the drink down, he flicks a glance over to Alec. ]

… Look, about earlier. [ An awkward beat, then he clarifies, ] The whole, uh. Accusin’ you of going Benedict Arnold on me…

[ He trails off. Clearly he’s working up to an apology of sorts, here. Give it a second. ]

[striketwice]

[ He watches Peter brave through another drink, and Jesus that does not look pleasant. For a second he feels like he might be sick on the guy’s behalf.

Once the apparent nastiness has passed and Peter turns to offer what he assumes is going to be an apology, he holds up a hand. ]

Don’t. I get it. It’s not like I gave you any reason to trust me, so it’s fine.

[nostalgiabomb]

You sure as hell haven’t.

[ Despite the words, he says it mildly. He agrees, certainly, but not with the spite he might have utilized a handful of hours earlier. ]

Still. Should’ve known better.

[ He falls quiet after that, contemplating the contents of his mug. The gears in his head are still audibly turning, still juddering with false starts and resets, until he lets out a slow breath. ]

Thanks for. [ A beat. ] You know. [ A vague gesture made small by his injuries. ]

I mean, I know it was just, like. A practical thing. [ Because leaving Peter behind risked the whole operation. ] But still, I, uh. Appreciate it.

[striketwice]

Don’t mention it.

[ It was a practical thing, he knows it was. Leaving Peter in enemy hands was just plain stupid, regardless of how they felt about one another. But in the moment? It felt like life or death, with the sharp teeth of dread digging into him at the mere thought that something might have happened to Peter.

It seems weird to think back on now. The terror, the urgency, seem distant and alien in the face of lazy contentment. He settles back in his chair a little more, listing slightly towards Peter without thinking much of it. ]

Like I said, your friends would kill me if I ditched you.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He breathes out a laugh, a little dark and self-deprecating. ]

Yeah, yeah. The galaxy’s most insane guard dogs. I heard you the first time.

Still. Good timing. [ A pause, then he corrects, ] Kind of okay timing. Could’ve saved me a broken rib if you were just a few minutes earlier, but…

[ A shrug. ]

We can’t all be perfect, like I mentioned.

[striketwice]

Uh-huh. I heard that the first time too.

I was kind of working at the time, then somebody- [ he gives Peter a gentle nudge with his elbow ] -didn't answer their comm.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He answers the prodding with a flat look. ]

Sorry. [ Equally flat, though there’s the barest hint of amusement in the corner of his eyes to take away the edge of it. ] Kind of had my hands full.

[ If he were honest, Peter would admit he— kind of doesn’t remember hearing Brennan call. But that could very well have been because he was in the process of getting his head caved in, and Alec’s voice couldn’t cut through the high-pitched whine in his ears.

He holds his breath again to take another sip from the concoction, taking a second to determine whether the taste of bile was from the tea or himself. (He decides, Probably both.) ]

I miss anything important when you called?

[striketwice]

[ Yeah, the tea thing? Not any easier to watch.

He shrugs. ] No, I just… sort of got the sense that something wasn’t right. I tried to call and you didn’t answer, so I went looking.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Something prickles beneath the surface of his skin at those words, a quiet itch at the back of his mind, and he glances over, eyebrows knitting together. Still, he treats it with a grain of salt, as he does most things. ]

What’s that, some kinda wizard thing? “Someone, somewhere, is getting the stuffing kicked outta them”?

[striketwice]

I don’t ever remember having any kind of radar before.

[ He frowns at the ceiling for a bit before turning his gaze to Peter, searching his face like maybe the answer’s there. ] It just hit me all of a sudden.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He’s not entirely sure why Alec’s searching his face like that, and his eyes narrow on reflex. ]

I mean, I’m not complaining. It worked out right?

[ Part of him wants them to back away from this conversation, because it feels like teetering on a dangerous ledge. One falls move and they’ll fall. ]

Probably a fluke.

[striketwice]

[ Alec’s gaze lingers on Peter for the barest of seconds longer, almost as if he wants to ask “what did you do?”, but Peter couldn’t have been any more responsible for whatever that was than Alec, and Alec sure didn’t do anything. Whatever happened back there had to have just been instinct. Or a fluke.

He returns his gaze to the ceiling with a small smirk. ]

Just try to stay out of trouble. I’m not always gonna be around to save your ass.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He’s relieved when Alec finally backs off, that little coil of tension at the base of his neck finally relaxing. Peter unconsciously lifts his hand, rubbing at the spot.

Still, Alec’s words have Peter rolling his eyes, and he huffs out a derisive snort. ]

Whatever, dude. We’ll just call ourselves even for after I so valiantly bailed your ass out of jail.

[striketwice]

Are you still going on about that? I had it handled.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ without conviction, ]

Uh-huh. Sure. Okay.

[striketwice]

Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence. [ he reaches over to give Peter a light shove ] Dick.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He bats Alec’s hand away without any real effort. ]

Says the guy shoving the wounded man. That’s a level of cruelty that’s just seriously messed up, man.

[striketwice]

[ He rolls his eyes ] If that nasty fucking tea hasn't killed you yet, a little push sure isn't going to. Don't play the pity card with me.

[nostalgiabomb]

I still think you shouldn’t knock it ‘fore you try it.

It’s not so bad, really.

[striketwice]

"Not so bad"? You look you're gonna be sick just thinking about it.

My "fuck no" still stands.