Launchpad

Huey gave Lachlann a look, one that he often gave to his youngest brother, which pretty much read: think about what you just said. Though he supposed he couldn’t expect Lachlann to know UK geography very well, could he? It wasn’t like Huey knew the USA like the back of his hand (he could name all the states, and their capitals (mostly because he had been left alone for half an hour one day and had decided it might be a neat party trick), but that was about as detailed as he could get).

But no, Cambridge wasn’t far. Like most things in England, it was a three hour drive away. And no, Huey didn’t have a car… but he could save up his money from work! It wasn’t like he was doing much with it anyways. And he’d need to pass his test… as well as passing his A-Levels, because of course he had to get the highest grades possible to get into Cambridge… But he’d find time for that. At the very worst, there was always the train, and Huey was a nerd, which meant he loved trains. He could get a lot of work done on a long train journey, he thought.

He looked over at Lachlann during the brief pause the driver gave, but he quickly looked back at the road with an expression not too dissimilar to a puppy that knew it had done something that it shouldn’t have and was hoping that no one would notice. Huey had already made up his mind. Huey had been making arrangements for this thing, that thing and the other thing, without telling any of his family members what he was doing.

"I do want to.” He nodded eagerly, knocking some of his too-long hair into his face. Boy did Huey want to go to Cambridge. He’d gone for the interview/applicant/whatever day and had dragged his feet all the way back to the train station to go home. Huey wasn’t very good in most settings; he was a little too eager at school, he was a little too awkward at work, and he was too gangly for pretty much any environment, but he had seen himself fitting in at Cambridge. Slotting right into a space that was made just for him. How could he not want that?

“And I… already said yes.” He admitted, glancing at Lachlann out of the corner of his eyes, guilty again. “I told them I’d go, ‘cause if you accept within a certain period of time they give you all this stuff, like, accommodation and a bursary and fridge magnets. I have so many fridge magnets.” And he didn’t even have anywhere to put them, seeing as he hadn’t told anyone— “I just haven’t told anyone that I said yes. Well. Except you.”

"Sooo..." Lachlann replied, dragging the 'o' for a couple of seconds, as to buy himself some extra time to think of his next words (because, surprising as it may sound, Lachlann was actually trying to keep up it the whole thing, if only because it was important for Huey) "I mean, that's great, buddy! It won't be that far away and I'm all for anything that makes you happy, specially when it sounds like the kind of stuff that would turn you into a great adventurer a la Isabella Finch or Indiana Jones!"

That much was true, but there were still some issues to point out and it seemed like Huey would not be the one to make the first step with that.

"You knew you would be accepted" the (former) pilot finally said, figuring that there was no use in beating around the bush when both of them knew full well it would eventually be pointed out.

There was no way in hell that Hubert Alvis Mallard would be rejected from any University of his choice, not even the most selective ones. He was, after all, the perfect candidate: he had practically perfect scores, had amazing references via the Junior Woodchucks, his work, the Mallard-MacTunnag connections and by virtue of having survived Swynlake for a good while, had just the right temperament to ace any potential personal evaluations... hell, even money couldn't possibly be a problem, not when Mister Mac T was worth his age (multiplied by a thousand, maybe) on gold.

Hubert Alvis Mallard could join any University he'd ever fancy.

And if Launchpad MacNab knew that then there was no way Huey himself wasn't aware of that, even when semi-blinded by his own insecurities or perfectionist tendencies.

"You're one of the smartest guys I know, Huey. You never had to worry about acceptances, not when I'm sure that Universities would go full Battle Royale on eachother if you were to leave one application out there for anyone to claim" he declared with a smile, as if to compensate for the uncomfortable weight of the implications: Huey knew he'd be accepted, but still had decided to avoid saying a thing until now.

The 'why' was obvious, but...

"I won't lie, little buddy, you waiting to share the news with everyone...it'll make things a bit more difficult" Lachlann sighed, now doing his best to actually keep his eyes on the road instead of looking into the Triplet's direction, tempting as it was "but I totaly get it! 's a big change and one of your first real-adult-like choices! 's just that... I mean, I know why, but I guess I want to hear it coming from you- why would you wait so much to say a thing? Like, 's not like we- you know we've got your back and will be cheering for you no matter what, right? So"

“It’s alright,” Ian reassured the older man; he couldn’t fault people for information he made a very distinct point of hiding himself. And he always had, hidden so much over the course of his life, even under the coaxing of his family otherwise; he knew they had been right but it had been too much back then; Ian hadn’t wanted to be that different. Maybe it hadn’t been the best way to handle it, he had begun to see the weight of some of his choices over that.

The mention of the conversation though caused him to shift, eyes averted for a second and darkened by the weariness of that memory, of all the memories of what had used to be home. “Ah, yeah, now everyone knows of course, sensing magic and all of that. It’s fine. I always had magic, I guess, it just didn’t work until after…honestly I don’t know why it took so long to work; you’re right…that isn’t natural for a Magick. It was a spell probably? Keeping things locked up.” And he had little idea why that had been a necessity; unless the reasoning had been to make certain he wasn’t supposed to have access to that magic.

A curse? Spell? His mother had to have known something as a magic creature herself, but she had seemed as surprised as he was when whatever had been in place had unraveled. Ian always felt like his life was some mystery he wasn’t allowed to understand. “Sometimes I…realize I might be the person who knows less about my own life than everyone else involved in it.” Terrifying, that thought; Barley’s stories and grand quests were fun as little indulgent fantasy adventures but Ian had never wanted to live through a real one.

“The States weren’t…easy.” He confessed, and that was an understatement, “Not knowing about the magic then was…honestly a good thing. People just knowing I wasn’t entirely human was bad enough; I don’t know if-” Ian trailed off with a shudder; there was just too much in those memories that felt too vicious still, it was a hollow misery. He drew another slow breath; did it help talking? Ian wasn’t sure.

He could thank the past for one thing though; he never wanted to make anyone the way he had. “Ah, people were cruel, Magicks were more acceptable than not being human. People liked to make sure you didn’t forget that.”

Ian considered Lachlann’s opinions for a long moment, finding them just a little amusing that anyone thought he seemed to know what he was doing. He never really knew; hearing those words quirked his expression with humor and something else; did he know? Not often. Maybe a little more than he gave himself credit for?

“That’s just…planning.” Ian laughed softly with a shake of his head. “You never really know what’s going to happen no matter how many notes or intentions you have; but you still just…have to do it anyway, right?” Ian didn’t have experience but he had the awareness to know when a person had to do something they just did whatever was necessary. That part was…almost easier; figure out how to make things work when they just had to.

“Thanks,” Ian trailed off, unable to help a weak chuckle, “I overthink a lot, yanno? Worry, stress; that dream messed me up.” He could safely say he had little idea yet how to make peace with some of the things he’d discovered about his own direction in life. “Asking people to look after me is asking a lot, it’s a little messy.” But his tone was a little lighter, a hint less weary. “I didn’t have friends a year ago; I’m really asking a lot from everyone.”

And friends, Ian had learned, were both the most infuriating and perplexing people at times, and entirely worth trying to navigate learning all their habits in building those so-very complicated relationships.

“We…have a lot in common,” Ian mused, both surprised and fascinated by that; people always surprised him, in the best ways anymore. “Maybe not the flying part, but I have hit a few trees with the van so it sorta counts about the same?” It was a joke, a very unfortunately true one.

"I can only imagine" Lachlann nodded. Sure, some parts of the USA didn't have any kind of problem towards Magicks and, from what he'd heard from his parents, Magicks and their societies were considerably more incomporated and accepted into the Mundus one than they had been back on his grandparents’ generations (and sure, there'd been some tension back on his parents generation and that kind of thing lingered still, but at least a change for the better had been made)-

-that inclusion, however, Lachlann now realized, had forgotten about those that were not entirely human-presenting or completely Magick or Mundus, and that knowledge kind of rained of his parade when thinking about inclusion and understanding; There was still a lot to work on, too much to undersand and too many people that had fallen through the cracks or had been actively ignored since they didn't fit the boxes people like to place other's in.

It was a disheartening thought for the (former) pilot, and he couldn't- he'd rather not think how it all felt from Ian's perspective.

It was terribly unfair. It all was.

"I'm totally repeating myself-" he joked as they neared New Town Over's entrance and incorporated into the town's usual morning rush "-but I think there's no right way to be, you know? Like, both as a person and as a Magick, I mean. Just because you didn't start doing things when and like others did doesn't mean you are doing things wrong -like, sure, there's life milestones and stuff like that, but they aren't meant to make you feel like you're on a race or anythin' "

Lachlann's words, incomplete as they were (since he didn't know enough about the whole Introversion vs Extroversion thing to actually elaborate on that point and how it related to Ian) were followed by a brief pause and a smile as he heard Ian's new musings, to which he nodded along to.

"Yeah, in a funky kinda way, don't we?!" he conceded inbetween laughs "But, like, it shouldn't be a surprise. We're all a little confused and a little insecure 'bout what we're doing and where we're going -'s just that I don't mind admitting it while others would rather save face and pretend they've got everythin' under control. Or that's what I like to think"

He shrugged as they took a left.

"I used to think that things would just click in place when I grew up, you know? That some cooler, older me would override my personality and I'd just...know what to do, somehow" he chuckled "but no such luck! And that's kind of a life lesson within itself, don't you think? Accepting that we're all makin' stuff up as we go along and hoping for the best 's kinda humblin' -like, keeping that in mind helps me...accept people, I guess?”

Kindness, to him, was both the answer and the goal.

"So...yeah. That's why I think you should be a little more patient with yourself" he shrugged "We're all confused, we all have our ups and downs and we all crash into things every now and then-"

(Even Lachlann himself wasn't sure if that last part was supposed to be a joke or not).

Seamus’s eyes flickered up to Lachlann’s face as he laughed, the sound of it more of a feeling than a vocalization, rumbling from the younger man’s chest into his own before escaping out into the air between. A mock offended look unfurled across his brow and a lazy hand came up to smack him across the collarbone (or the approximation of it anyway). “Only the second, huh? Should I be concerned,” he teased, a brow arching as tilted his face once more to look Lachlann in the eye. 

Scottish James Bond pulled a laugh from the older man and then he was slumping, boneless, against the other once more, imagining it. He supposed some of the work he’d done was certainly Bond-esque, in a way. Though Drake, as they’d called him during their S.H.U.S.H. days, did more of it than he had, Seamus still looked back on the work they’d done fondly. But, this was a rambling rabbit trail, of which he was excruciatingly fond, so Seamus just tucked back in and listened, a hand wiggling out from where it was trapped between them to run through the other’s hair, grinning when it made it stick up at even worse odd angles. 

The question, whispered and careful, about his sister made him pause, hand falling to curl somewhere around Lachlann’s neck and shoulder. He sat up a bit more and nodded, eyes glancing past the other man’s face to stare somewhere past his left shoulder, remembering. “Aye. She, uh, she was. Della…Addie she…looked like her mum, almost dead on the older she got. But Moira wasn’t as…steady. She was always the one of the four o’ us tah get mixed up in shite. Believe it or not, she was the reason fer half o’ th’ fights I started back in New York,” he quipped, chuckling at the memory. 

Moira had been so mad that day. Hadn’t spoken a word to him when he’d dragged some bloke off of her after he’d tried to get fresh during a dance and Seamus had broken his nose, but she’d hugged him afterward and told him thank you in her own way, patching up his hand and taking on an extra shift and the seamstress shop she’d worked in for a few weeks after until his hand could fully heal. “I was with her. When Adelaide was born…Addie’s da was never around, an’ none of us liked him much, anyhow. She, uh…she was s’possed tah have lunch with me. Found her in Chinatown.” 

Hearing Lachlann say that Adelaide had been his–his daughter–made a lump form in his throat. He tucked his face into the other man’s leg and gave himself a minute, letting the upwelling of emotion pass him by before he spoke again. “We did everythin’ together,” he whispered, a fond smiling curling around his mouth. “Taught ‘er how to read, tah write, tah shoot an’ drive an’ fly when she was old enough. She didna give two fucks what anyone thought ‘bout her…an’ I was always so proud of that. No one else wanted anythin’ tah do with her. Me older sister didna want her, didna approve of her, an’ me brother was still just a lad…but that was alright. Meant I got tah keep her.” 

Shifting so he could peek at Lachlann’s face again, he offered a bit of a sheepish smile, shrugging as he trailed off into silence. “I think she liked ye, given everythin’ that dream through at us, woulda liked ye now if she knew ye. Know Graeme’s heard ‘bout ye a bit, seems tah like ye well enough.” 

"I mean, I don't actually know Jim Starling" Lachlann conceded, rubbing his chin with his mostly-free hand. Granted, Jim Starling was a super cool man who also happened to be the actor that played Darkwing and as such had been automatically named the (former) pilot's favourite person in the whole world, but-

-but he wasn't the real deal, right? He was an actor (an amazing one, at that!), which meant most of his adventures actually hadn't quite happened, even if the man had broken more than a couple of his bones while bringing them, and Darkwing, to life...unlike Mister Mac T, who had actually went on various adventures.

"I always faint when I get too close to the man" the (former) pilot mused, still about the actor, even when his attention was now placed on the myriad of scars that adorned the other's chest (and collarbone, and shoulders, and many other places he wasn't sure he wanted to think of right now). Every single one of those marks told a story about actual adventures and actual times gone by, actual risk and actual triumphs -which were a whole different league from Jim Starling's scars, born of failed (or succesful but hurtful still) stunts; Hell, even the mark that was the most familiar to Lachlann, the one on the other's shoulder, had a whole story to tell and...well, that was something to consider.

Trying to wrap his head around that kind of things was still quite the bizarre labour for Lachlann, tangible as everything was; The other was way too wonderful to be real (and yet, there he was, all cocky smile, bright eyes, Scottish accent and bedhair).

"Might have to reconsider the ranking..." he conceded as he stretched in place for a second in order to reach the other's shoulder, placing a quick kiss to it, then returning to his previous position as the other got up and started talking about Moira (whose face he couldn't quite imagine, so he decided to visualize as a darker-haired Adelaide and called it a day) and their shared misadventures, nodding as the other went on.

"Your older sister..." he repeated "Eona, right? The one Donnie got his temper from?"

(With all due respect to Donald).

"I mean, she must have had her reasons to, well, decide that kinda stuff, I guess? She-" Lachlann said, meaning to play devil's advocate but stopping on his tracks, eyebrows raised, as he heard yet another name "Graeme? The phone o-? wait, he knows I exist?! He kno- you've chatted about me!?"

Huey had gotten the acceptance letter and have felt excited for all of ten seconds before the anxiety had kicked in. The worry. Thinking about how he was going to tell his brothers, his uncles, his friends, that he was leaving. The idea that he would be leaving. That he would be going off and starting his life, on his own, independently. Meeting new people, hopefully making new friends. Having new adventures, on his own.

Terrifying.

Though to be honest, he had been distracting himself of the worry around leaving the nest by worrying about telling everyone else. He didn’t just want to spring it on them, see, he wanted to prepare them somehow… he just hadn’t figured out how, yet. And now it had been a long enough time that it would be weird not to just spring it on them, and the longer it went on without him telling them, the weirder it would get. They would know that he had been keeping it from them, and what if that started an argument? If Huey was going to be leaving in six months, he didn’t want anymore fighting.

Not that he was thinking about leaving. He’d deal with that when the time came.

But when Lachlann asked what he was wanting to major in, Huey did find himself feeling excited, despite all of the panic. He had spent so long looking at the prospectus that he could probably resite it from memory, because even though the next six months would be hard, everything that came after? The lectures, the projects, the field trips, all of it? That was going to be so much fun.

“Archaeology,” He said, breaking into a smile at last. “The offer, like, four different tracks, and I don’t have to decide yet, but… I don’t know. Maybe with a focus on biological anthropology. Evolution and ecology and stuff. Although just archaeology would be awesome, too, so. Keeping my options open I guess, until I get there.”

Truth be told, Lachlann's understanding of what Archaeology entailed was limited to the four or five times he'd watched Raiders of the Lost Arc and even then he knew that Indiana Jones wasn't necessarily the best example of what that career actually was (maybe The Mummy was a closer called, he mused, but he still doubted it's accuracy)-

-but, limited as his knowledge about it was, Lachlann couldn't help but smile right back at Huey as the Triplet went on and on about the four different tracks, about evolution and ecology and many things that eluded the (former) pilot's scope of empirical knowledge (that had always his forte).

There were many, many things Lachlann didn't quite get and many others he understood deep down but wouldn't quite voice for the other's sake: What he knew for certain, though, was that the barrage of words that escaped Huey, his wide smile and the occasional hand movements were the best of signals, specially when compared to the other's usual relatively-collected demeanor.

And that was mattered, right? 

Oh. Oh, right, the road did, too.

"Sorrysorry, I'm on it, I'm on it!" the (former) pilot exclaimed as he maneuvered back into the road, thanking both their lucky stars for the usual calmness of the route during that time of the day and the Triplet's capacity to tap into his "older brother who is so very done with this, but can't and won't voice it because he's supposed to be the voice of reason" mode at will (or maybe his soul simply decided to peace out of his body, who could know for certain?) "Whatwerewesayin'? Ah, yeah! Cambridge! It's a big name, right?! It's -where 's it at, again?"

Yeah, he unironically didn't know the University of Cambridge was at Cambridge. Or that Cambridge was an actual place.

"I mean, it's not like it's too far away, right?" he added -his very American points of view about what "far" entailed bleeding into the argument "Like, 's not a handful of days travelin' by car or havin' to hop into a plane, right? So it's not like... far-far away, right? You could always visit Swynlake every now and then- or we could visit you!"

A pause.

Well, apparently Cousin Farvel sounded like the old MacNabb roots. He knew? 

Oh, wait. Seamus knew. He and MIkkael’s conversations had always been particularly robust and, to the outsider looking in, nearly incomprehensible. It had always been rather amusing to look back on. Remembering it now, through such an inconsequential piece of information, was almost charming. It brought a smile to the older man’s face.

“Mmmhm,” he hummed in affirmation, a quiet, rumbling laughter shaking his chest and shoulders. “Sweet lass. Bit o’ a firecracker. Smart as a whip, too. Think she’s workin’ in…th’ Amazon last I heard from ‘er? Lookin’ fer some hunk o’ gold fer th’ Brazilian government or somethin’. ‘S how we met, before. Same situation, different government.” 

Some days, like in the haziness of the morning here, Seamus missed the work he’d used to do. He missed the travel and the adrenaline of following a hunch, knowing he was right. The people who didn’t want him to find what he was looking for, the fights and the shoot outs. Some days he longed for it, had the urge to start up his plan and just…go. Fly anywhere. 

But then he remembered he had a family, people he cared for that couldn’t just go, and he plucked his head from out of the clouds of his memories and planted himself firmly back on the ground. 

Tilting his head up, Seamus’s brows twitched as he grinned, amused. “Awww ye think ‘m pretty, Lachie. ‘S real sweet o’ ye.” His lips connected with the other man’s chin, then, soft and light and jut because before he rearranged himself to lay his head back down on Lachlann’s chest. “But…she took after me little sister. Moira, her name was. She didna show up but…she has, before.” 

And weren’t those the hardest dreams to wake up from? When his entire family was there, when he could remember them so well and then had to wake up and remember that a good half of them were gone or they were estranged.

“Ye ain’t gettin’ kicked offa th’ bed,” he mumbled, nudging him with a hand in the ribs, “but ‘s only ‘cause yer a right nice pillow.” He laid there for a while after, content to just listen to the other breathe or talk but he eventually had to answer the last question. 

“Think th’ blond was Gosalyn Mallard, no relation. She’s, ah, daughter of an old friend. Adopted. Th’ redhead ‘s a woman from ‘ere, but we met back in th’ sixties while I was in Georgia. She was sellin’ Avon. We talked about ‘er husband,” he said, voice tinged with a bit of sadness at the memory. Not only just for himself and the memory of his first interaction with Rosetta, but for her and her own loss. They stuck with you, even after all these years, even after the wounds had healed and you’d moved forward. They always would, really, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t share their stories, their memories, with the new people in their lives. 

Lachlann chuckled as the other repositioned himself deciding to use him as a pillow and tickling his nose a bit using his mess of hair (a mess of hair he absolutely adored, mind, specially when it was honest-to-God untamed in the way only bedhair could create).

"You're the second coolest person I know" the (former) pilot mused as he closed his eyes for a second, still not letting go of the other "Isabella Finch aside, I mean- like, ok, 't's super cool that you actually know- knew? her, but you were and are amazing regardless. Like, it makes sense in context, in a way? If there's someone as cool as Finch 's you- can't imagine anyone else doing all of those daring explorer things and, being, like Scottish James Bo-"

At that part of the mess of thoughts, Lachlann stopped.

"-I mean, aside from Sir Sean Connery. He was the ultimate Scottish James Bond" he added, now having completely lost the point of his ramblings (and who could blame him, really? He'd barely been awake for a couple of minutes now and there was already too much information to process) "But- I- yeah, that tracks. That tracks"

That kind of thing made Lachlann wonder what Seamus MacTunnag, adventurer extraordinaire and no-longer-playboy-but-he-could-still-get-it billionare was doing in Besydus, of all places, with him, of all people, when he could be searching for the Lost Harp of Mervana or fighting sky pirates instead.

(Sky Pirates! Now, wasn't that a crazy idea!?)

"Was Moira like the two of you?" he asked in a whisper, knowing that everything and anything related to the other's family was a topic that deserved the outmost of cares "I- don't really remember a lot of dream Adelaide, save for the ocassional glares and her ocassional hit to my sides, but she seemed-"

Like the kind of gal that gave absolutely zero fucks about what "a lady" was ought to do and decided to, instead, do her thing. The kind of gal that had a self-assured and toothy smile, almost identical to her father's, that wouldn't hesitate to kick your shins and that could hit a target from far, far away just to look back and mutter a 'mess with my family and you'll be next' that could shake anyone to the core.

Yeah, she took after Seamus.

“I was born a Magick without magic,” Ian clarified, since there was some difference there in what people expected of such things. “I was mostly born…not human, but people didn’t know I was a Magick until later. We didn’t even know, actually.” And he was almost grateful for that because life in his hometown had been complicated enough without being that different. “I kinda did have to learn how to be a Magick, ah…kinda haven’t learned yet. Not well.” Ian admitted with another slow breath drawn. “Probably didn’t help much either; Magicks start learning as kids, I…didn’t even know I had magic until…ah..about four years ago.”

Which was just another oddity Ian had shouldered because there was no other way around it, magic had been triggered for him, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“But I do get what you’re saying…about magic being harder because I’m probably…making it harder on myself stressing so much.” What in life didn’t he make worse with his habit of overthinking and fixating on it until he worked up his own anxiety? “I kinda wish I got how other people just…don’t…stress out so much.”

It seemed so much easier to not care that much about everything, maybe then things would work out better.

“I don’t think you’re just a washed-up pilot.” Ian glanced out the window when they passed the woman with the stubborn cat at the side of the road; not sure if he felt worse for her or the poor feline. But he did know he didn’t want Lachlann to feel bad, so he slid his attention forward and back to him. “I don’t really care that you even were a pilot actually. Ah…I mean it is interesting, and important to you so I don’t mean that in a bad way,” his brow furrowed as he turned his thoughts entirely away from anything but Lachlann. “I didn’t know you were a pilot before I needed your help with Tony, and I didn’t know much about it before today; I just knew you’d help me because…you’re a good person. Like you’re still trying to help me now, and are, just listening to me…talking in circles and confusing both of us.” Ian offered an apologetic smile over that, because he knew it hadn’t been an easy conversation. “Nobody knows what they’re doing probably but I appreciate you trying, it…does really help. It…feels less like I’m just a mess when I know it’s not just me trying to figure things out.”

Sometimes it was hard to talk about problems, for Ian it felt unfair to bring his own up and burden people, but Lachlann was an adult, well..more of an adult than Ian technically, and there was a security in that.

“I…well, you ran away, yeah, but I’m kinda glad you did? I know it sounds selfish but you were here when I needed your help because of that.” Ian didn’t want to just leave it at that though; Lachlann was important to plenty of people. “Not just me either, you help a lot of people and plenty of them wouldn’t have ever met you otherwise; it might not be…anything as exciting as being a pilot but it’s still important, right?”

'I was born a Magick without magic'

That was...a phrase and a half, and the implications weren't completely lost on Lachlann, even if he remained ignorant on the general Magick lifestyle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know" the (former) pilot repeated for what felt like the hundreth time, his voice lowered as if to further emphasize the message "I- I was aware you were a Magick 'cause of the- remember the Debate and the twitter discourse ‘round it? Yeah"

Now, Lachlann MacNab was more than a bit of an airhead (and he was fully aware of that) but had always made a point of keeping mental notes about others likes or stories, like Tony's knowledge of the Welsh language, Phineas love of The Social Network, the fact that Vanessa was jewish, that Mr. Simba was married (which wasn't a secret to any Spill reader) or that the Robinson's robot, Carl, was capable of tweeting. One of the tidbits of information he'd got about Ian was that he'd lived in America before arriving at Swynlake and that his previous experiences as what he'd believe a Magick-born (but was closer to a Magick-adjacent) had been kind of sour.

He hadn't been aware that Ian hadn't started as a Magick and had been, instead, just weird both to Mundus and Magicks, however -hell, he didn't even know what kind of Magick Ian was related to (because, well, fenotypes were a funky thing and outright asking was a faux-pas and a half).

Things were complicated from the beggining and this knowledge (or lack thereof) only further muddled what Lachlann thought he could understand.

"I wasn't aware" he repeated, almost as a musing to himself as he kept his eyes on the road "I was under the impression that it came naturally to you- Magick, I mean. 'm sorry for assuming, 's just that... it seems like a thing"

The phrase didn't make much sense, so he had to elaborate a second later, once his ideas were a bit more grounded.

"You always seem to know what you're doing, I mean" he clarified "Like, sure, you get nervous every now and then -but who doesn't?! You- you seem like the kind of person that has a plan and that has...you know, the temperance? to do things even when not being completely sure about 'em. Like, Eilonwy 's the kind of person that doesn't fear a thing and 's so comfortable with herself that she just knows, right? But I've always thought of you like the kind of person that 'sn't quite sure but does things anyways, the...grounded type, you know? Kind of nervous and kind of unsure, but that manages to do amazing things anyways. I wouldn't have figured in a million years that you weren't completely familiar with that side of yourself- those sides"

(Because that meant he was a bit of a stranger to both Magick and Mundus affair, wasn't he?)

"I don't think there's a right way to learn or to be" Lachlann continued "and maybe you should try that- not being so hard on yourself or trying to shove yourself into a box, I mean. You are who you are and that's more than enough, I think -if you want to give magic a try then you absolutely should! but if you decide to keep it as a bit of a side thing? well, I think that's valid, too- like, we- your friends and family will love you regardless of what you choose"

Ah, Lachlann MacNab, ever the self-unaware motivational speaker.

"You are more than any of your errors or fears, Ian. You are more than the Magick you have or don't have. You are more than the answers you can give others or actually have"

He paused.

The last thing the idea sounded like was any version of easy. It sounded difficult on levels that were a new sort of anxiety altogether than Ian had even experienced before and he could feel his chest tighten. Maybe Lachlann was right, that it was better than just avoiding the idea forever because small towns didn’t allow for much avoiding anything. But the very real prospect of following heartbreak with a dose of real life rejection had Ian notably pale and unable to voice why. He could feel his stomach twist at the thought.

"I…ah…maybe,” he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to at all. The thought was logical but horrifying. “That…might not go well.” After all, Riku wasn’t exactly as unsteady as himself at times and dream versions of self had a clear advantage in nerve. He didn’t know what he wanted. Other than to possibly throw up. Ian just sighed, knowing how ridiculous it was to get so distressed over something plenty of people dealt with all the time; but that was how anxiety worked in all its’ irrational glory. “I guess you’re right.”

He just fell to listening a few moments, it was easier, and the more he heard the more parallels there were to be drawn. Ian was surprised, always, by how complex peoples’ lives were beyond the surface but it was comforting to know it fell to complex decisions and choices for everyone.

He wasn’t taking a break from magic, Ian mentally berated himself, he had outright refused to even approach it because he could stare down in the mirror the literal marks of his mistakes, never felt like he was safe enough for the sake of other people. Fear was a vicious little thing, such sharp claws. And he knew that Lachlann wasn’t taking a break either, given his words, but he wasn’t going to be unkind and voice it.

Instead, he sought out a different answer. “Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Even with Lachlann’s initial conviction Ian still puzzled over the truth to it, for both of them. Was being a pilot by extension of family legacy any different than being a sorcerer by inherited power?

Ian didn’t hate magic, certainly didn’t hate his dad for passing it on to him; he just wasn’t sure why so much was laid out for him. “I mean, for me anyway…I want to be better at magic, I just…don’t want that to be everything. It’d be like saying you were just a pilot and ignoring everything else you accomplished, yanno? That’s…the hard part for me.”

Maybe not just for him, but Ian did know people saw the world in different ways.

“Yeah, a break. I..don’t want to just shut down again.” He nodded, that much was true and Lachlann was right; there wasn’t anything innately wrong in stepping away rather than expecting a problem to just go away if you stared it down. He already knew everyone in Swynlake meant too much to him to ever run away; he needed them.

it took Lanchlann a good couple of seconds to reply to Ian's question, since it was still one he'd much rather avoid and both the implications of telling the truth or lying.

"I will" he finally said, tone somewhere inbetween somber and determined "I don't know when, but I'll do it"

The phrase was a bit of a compromise between his most pesimistic side and his most optimistic one, all for Ian's sake; The (former) pilot hadn't planned on finding some echoes of himself and his own damned problems on poor Ian, but now that the connection was there and the young adult most likely had some expectations about how Lachlann's actions and words reflected on his own...

"I know it's not the same -you were born a Magick while I had to learn how to pilot" he continued, now looking at Mrs. Bridges as she finally managed to convince her cat to move out of the road "I had- I have more of an option than you do. Like, I can take a couple of sabbatical months or years and it wouldn't be much of a deal, but..."

This was the part where Lachlann pointed out that he was no expert on the Magick's lifestyle or the general dynamic of being one; Sure, he knew of a couple of things and many previous significant others had taught him about their lifestyles, but all of that simply wasn't enough to understand the whole thing.

"Some types of magic are closely related to how the user feels, right? There's- there's no options or a 1:1 comparison for that -like, if I were to pilot when feeling out of it...well, the results are different, trust me, I know they would - but that effect is lesser than anything you'd have to go through, I think?" he shrugged "I'm- not a good example with this whole thing"

He sighed while guiding the car along the road once more.

Favourite BDRP relationships: Dr. Drakken and petty crime

"I guess it is.” Ian trailed off, because what else could he do but agree? Other than dreams Ian had no reference, no concept of comparison. He barely had an awareness before that he really even wanted something like that. The thing was…Ian felt like he’d always been okay alone. When that was what a person knew, what felt safe, what reason was there to want for more?

And when it was a feeling it felt too real, and it ached once it was gone.

“Yeah…sorta. Someone I talked to sometimes, not like…a real good friend? I don’t have a lot of guy friends anyway. But, yeah, I knew him before, he actually…ah, I visited him at work sometimes to talk about things that were bothering me. He listened, yanno? And he’s smart. He helped during the whole…nightmare fog thing too.” Ian trailed off, expression contemplative as he tugged apart the real memories of Riku from the spider web recollections of that dream.

“Maybe you’re right; I don’t want to avoid him. I…am somewhat terrified to talk to him because, obviously…I could be way more hung up on this than he is. But…you can’t really avoid people here.” Ian sighed, shoulders flopped back against the seat again as he sat there. “Town won’t let me anyway.” He had no doubt in that; town would shove him into a confrontation if he tried to ignore it. “Is it weird? Is he really…my ex? I didn’t even…get the relationship part first. I mean we were close, and engaged but that was…so quick. It was all so quick.” Why did everything get all skewed up for him? The thought made him twitch. “I would not do something like that in the real world.”

“I know what I want, in life, it’s just…never been what everyone else wanted. They don’t mean anything bad by it! Just…” Ian’s expression twisted in a bit of a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a sorcerer. I’m just bad at it. Like…I’m really bad at magic, and my dad was really good; I don’t…know what happened with me. Maybe if I was better I’d know what to do with myself.”

“Maybe you’re right about that too,” Ian trailed off and his gaze dropped; Lachlann was trying so hard to help him, he didn’t drag him through that. But his eyes lifted with the topic, expression tipping into a puzzled one.

“You did?” Oh all the things he might have expected to have in common with Lachlann; falling short on something hadn’t been one of them. “So you just…stopped?”

"Well, 's a relatively easy fix, 'sn't it?" Lachlann suggested after taking a brief pause to gather his own thoughts and push the gloomyness of some of them to the back of his mind "Like, ok, it'll be kinda difficult to just bring the topic up, yeah, but...since you already know that guy you could just directly ask about what they remember 'bout the whole thing and how he feels 'bout it, right? Who's to say he 'sn't as confused as you are and could use some help untangling part of the mess on his mind, himself?"

Communication was the answer to a lot of problems, even if it somehow was a problem on itself-

-which was an ironic thought coming for a man that also happened to be biting his tongue as the young adult continued trying to find some semblance of order to his own ideas and feelings; Again, Ian was generally a brilliant mind, Lachlann had noticed, but also had an habit of getting blinded by his feelings of vague fear or vague inadequacy (which was a real shame).

"I-" the (former) pilot mumbled before coughing, nodding and then trying again, now with a bit of a clearer mind "-I know that feeling, yeah, like, big time. My family ‘s full of pilots, you know?"

Ian, thankfully, didn't seem to know; But that meant some exposition would be necessary.

"The Flying MacNabs. You've probably never heard the name but we’ve- they’ve got a Wikipedia page and all, we're- they're stunt pilots and pretty damn good ones at that!" he beamed "but I- yeah, I'm a bit of a problem and didn't want to rain on their parades so... 's not like I outright stopped, I- I like to think I'm taking an instrospective break and saving a good deal of money on fuel all the while. 's- I love flying and I love my family, I think kinda like you do with magic and your own family"

He sighed.

"But sometimes a dude needs a break, yeah?" which was a waaay kinder way to describe the situation and didn't quite express what Lachlann really felt about it: he was, in reality, ridiculously ashamed of his own failures and feared the mere idea of the Sunchaser itself thanks to the sudden wave of emotions he got whenever he thought of the possibility of flying (or, more specifically, crashing after he was done flying), which made things way too complicated- so much so he'd rather ran away, pretend nothing was wrong and outright lie about it while giving that pep-talk (because, what kind of good would his own self-loathing bring to Ian? the idea was to cheer him up, not to worry him further) "I'll try again, later-"

Yeah, sure.

Favourite BDRP relationships: The RAS Agents

“When it all comes down to dust I will kill you if I must, I will help you if I can.

 When it all comes down to dust I will help you if I must, I will kill you if I can.”

Favourite BDRP relationships: Errol and Ratigan

“Freedom for the wolves has often meant death to the sheep.”

Favourite BDRP relationships: Dragonfish

“We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love.”

Favourite BDRP relationships: Ego

“Liars make the best promises.”

Favorite BDRP relationships: CanVan

"You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses." 

Favourite BDRP relationships: Oliver and Company

“The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other.”

Favourite BDRP relationships: The Knights of the Round Table

“I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me- they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.”