light_of_the_world | let me go, let me lie low

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let me go, let me lie low

The few days that had passed since Valentine's Day had been horrendous for Hild. No one had made her to feel uncomfortable. Krem and Gannicus, of course, had laughed, but their fondness and love outweighed any embarrassment she might have felt from them. Things with Ellie were more complicated, but as Hild had no true intention of disturbing her relationship, and Ellie had no desire to do so either, they had tacitly agreed not to speak of the thing again. The rest had not been so terrible; overwrought though she had been, nothing said had been truly embarrassing, only wrapped up in overdramatic sensibility and phrasing.

All the same, it grated on her. Yes, the magic of the city did this to people, at times, but this had not been city magic. This had been the magic of one man, one man who decided his enjoyment ranked above others. She had escaped all the previous attempts by him and by Darrow magic to manipulate her personality and person. It felt no less unfair that she should be swept up in such a thing now.

Beneath all this, too, lurked the anger at herself for having drunk the wine in the first place. She had faltered; she had let her vigilance slip. She knew better than to drink freely at such a party, knew better than to dive in without observing its effects. She felt herself to blame as much as Magnus Bane, and that frustrated her to no end.

The only thing she could do, however, short of making her apologies and putting a knife somewhere in the vicinity of Magnus Bane's testicles, which she could not do, was carry on. And so she did, stopping by the same coffee shop that had now become her favorite, ordering her usual latte and going to her work. She tried to sidestep another man in the moderately crowded cafe, murmuring a pardon as she did. But when she lifted her gaze to look at him, she stopped still.

"Oh, no."

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The shop's busier than Freddie'd anticipated at this time of morning, but he's just collected his coffee from the vacant-eyed barista when it very nearly ends up all along the front of his shirt. He barely hears the apology over the sound of music pumping through his earbuds and it hardly matters anyway when he realizes exactly who it is that's bumped into him. And realizes that she recognizes him as well.

Goddamn fucking Magnus.

Though, he supposes it could be worse. Even without the influence of enchanted wine, Hild is quite fit. He could've done worse.

"Well, this is a bit awkward now, isn't it?" he says, lightly pulling at the cord of his earbuds and offering a faint, tentative smile.

"You could call it that," Hild replied in a neutral tone of voice. Unsure of how to proceed with this interaction, she reverted to the methods that kept her alive back home, namely not letting any of her thoughts or feelings show on her face, keeping a completely placid expression. Not brain dead, but keenly observant.

"But I think neither of us wanted what happened to happen."

The relief is immediate, Freddie's shoulders visibly slumping as he lets out a breath. He'd done his best to strike nearly every memory of every conversation he'd that night into the abyss and still he'd remembered far too much. The things he'd said to Hild had been some of the worst, the ridiculous promises he's made, the groveling of sorts.

"Thank Christ," he says with a quick laugh.

He breathes then, pocketing his earbuds as he steps a bit out of the way of the queue. "It was the wine, wasn't it?" he says, a rhetorical question. "And bloody Magnus Bane. D'you know, he's my neighbour? I've spent the past few days pretending to hang pictures on my wall all hours of the day."

The way his body sagged with relief reassured Hild that she had in fact said the right thing and that they were both on the same page. She had not truly worried that anything would linger, that the affection she had shown to some strangers would turn to truth; the entire thing had been a farce. But it was always good to have these things confirmed in person. Freddie wasn't the type for romance of that nature, no more than Hild was.

Her brows arched at the information about Freddie's dwelling situation. "And you haven't cut him yet?" she asked; though she was joking, her lips did not so much as twitch. "I would be after him with a knife already, magic be damned."

"Oh, believe me, I've thought of it," Freddie assures her. And he has. In detail at times. But even if Freddie were actually proficient in the use of blades, he's know better than to mess with a wizard or warlock of whatever the bloody hell it is Magnus prefers to call himself. Freddie's gotten quite close enough as it is, really; he doesn't trust Magnus to not relieve him of his bits if he gets too irritated.

"Not certain it'd do much," he says then, shrugging as though to feign indifference. He takes another sip of his coffee. "What's a punctured lung to a magical thing? You've seen what he can do; I'm not stupid."

Hild made a soft noise of thoughtful agreement, head tilting and gaze slipping away from Freddie as she considered. There was only so much of an advantage that surprise might afford them, and it was a might at that. Hild was not overly familiar with his brand of magic, but Freddie was right; it was powerful.

"You must be very stubborn," she said, her focus returning to Freddie. "To live next to him still, despite what he's done and what he can do."

"Why should I be the one to move when he's the arsehole?" Freddie argues, though he can't say he hasn't thought about it. Trouble is, he isn't certain where he'd move to. He likes his flat well enough; it's nicer than he's lived in on his own, and there's no telling that he wouldn't end up living next to a vampire or something.

So far, all of Magnus's tricks have been relatively harmless. And Freddie does have ways of getting his own.

"To be honest, I don't understand why he's even there," he says, mild irritation still clear in his tone. "You know he knows that manor where all the parties are held. Why doesn't he live there?"

It was a fair point, but one that only solidified Hild's opinion of him. Stubbornness was a valuable quality in her book, something to be applauded, as she had been taught. The weak-willed fell quickly, whereas those strong in body and opinion held their place. Or died before their values crumbled and the things they held dear tarnished. That was the ideal, anyway. That was the goal.

"Control," she said, in a light, lofty tone of voice and paired with a shrug of her shoulders that said this was only theory, not certainty. Because it was Hild, she thought it very near certainty, of course. "A mansion is more difficult to keep, to alter to your whims. Knowing he has that, has the option, but chooses to keep the smaller place that he can thoroughly live in and mark as his own, that gives him control. Or the idea of it."

"But he's a bloody wizard," Freddie argues, still irritated by the whole thing. He hadn't chosen his flat, but instead been assigned it upon his arrival. And he did like it, but if he'd still take a manor over it any day. Particularly if he had magic at his very fingertips. Cleaning would never be an issue.

"Surely he knows some spells for that sort of thing. If he can magic up drugged wine and annoying little cherubs, I'm fairly certain he can magic a fucking broom."

"I had a friend back home," Hild countered, seemingly changing the subject but wanting, instead, for Freddie to understand her. If the distraction eased some of his irritation, all the better.

"When we were children, we would play at war, playing out the battles from stories, fighting each other and pretending to be famous warriors. Because he was a boy, he was expected to be a warrior, so he was given a little wooden sword and shield, to practice with. I had whatever tree bough we could find. I would always end up with more bruises, always lose the fight, and this made Cian quite happy. One day I asked him for his sword and shield, and after much hesitation, he gave them to me. He found out what it was like to fight with only a branch, and the bruises a wooden sword could give, and he wanted the sword and shield back, because they were his. I said, of course they were his, no one could deny that, and at any time he could ask for them back and I would give them to him. He thought about this, and decided to let me keep the sword and shield a little longer. Because he knew he was the one choosing."

"It's the choice," she said, confidently. "He chooses. At any time, he can leave. But he chooses to stay. That's the control."

As she speaks, Freddie realizes just how different she'd been at the party, under the influence of the spiked wine. His memories of the evening are all more than a bit blurry, but he wouldn't have assumed to hear a story like this that night, hadn't expected her to be so... stoic, in a way. Grounded.

"And you think he stays solely to cause me pain," he says, though as the words leave his lips, he realizes it does actually sound very much like something Magnus would do. "And that he's holding power over me by dangling that blood manor over my head so I'm more annoyed that he's sticking around. That's shit!"

Arrogant, too, Hild thought as her lips quirked into a small, private smile. Freddie certainly thought that a large part of Magnus' life was causing him pain. Perhaps that was true, but it showed a level of pride in self that Hild, in fact, appreciated. The gesiths of home were vain things; it was familiar and reassuring.

"Maybe not solely," she allowed. "But I can imagine that's part of the appeal." Her eyes flick over him. "You'd be fun to tease," she said, teasing herself.

Caught up as he in his anger toward Magnus, in the idea that the only reason Magnus has stayed in his flat is to cause as much irritation as possible, Freddie nearly misses Hild's next comment. He doesn't know whether to essentially let Magnus win and just pack up his shit or if he wants to find someone to bring back to his place right now and fuck them against the adjoining wall for hours.

He glances up finally, her voice registering through the muddle of his own thoughts, brow furrowed.

"You weren't like this on the wine," he says bluntly, noting the mischievous little smirk to her lips. He can't entirely tell if she's any interest in him or if she's only poking fun, but he's suddenly got a thought. "D'you want to help me get back at him?"

"Well, I was on the wine," Hild countered, reasonably but again teasingly. How she had been was the opposite of how she usually was, how she wanted to be -- controlled and steady versus mindless and racing. This was mostly the reason why she had hated the trick so much. If she had kept her mind but been in a compromising position, she would have been irritated but not so angry.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He could not be foolish enough to try a trick that Magnus could easily counter with his magic. It had to be something sly.

With or without wine, she's still pleasant and still undoubtedly attractive, of course. Her manner of speech isn't the type Freddie's used to, but that's hardly a strike against her. If nothing else, he's relieved to have found they've suffered together, for whatever definition of suffering. In truth, there are far worse people for whom Freddie could have professed his undying love.

His lips tug into a slow grin then and he offers a shrug, glancing down at the coffee she's still holding. "Nothing too out there, honestly," he admits. "But I do enjoy irritating the fuck out of him. What d'you say you come back to mine for a bit. We can share some wine -- not roofied, of course -- maybe have a chat and then bang loudly against the wall while making the loudest, most raucous sort of sex noises as we can possibly manage."

It wasn't the cleverest trick that Hild had ever heard, but she laughed nonetheless, high and bright, before covering her hand with her mouth and subduing some of her amusement. It wasn't what she had expected, but it sounded as if it would do the job well. Freddie didn't want Magnus living next door to him, at the least, and this would certainly subtract from his desirability as a neighbor.

"That sounds like a good method to get someone back to yours," she pointed out, but that was said lightly, without incrimination. Hild did not doubt that he would be respectful of her and keep a distance unless she invited him. Gut instinct led her in this. "But also delightful. I'm in."

Her smile is bright and encouraging and Freddie grins in response, offering a shrug at her statement as he gives a tip of his head, just a little more flirtatious.

"I'd not be averse to those noises being a bit more real," he admits, though it's clear by his tone that he's not keen on pushing the issue too hard at all. Instead, he nods back toward the door before heading that way, pausing to see if she'll follow. "If you've got any other ideas, I'm open," he adds. "Short of actual murder, I'm all ears."

The idea did have its appeal, but as of late, Hild tended to keep to Krem and Gannicus for whatever needs she had. It was her choice, nothing that they would have expected or required of her, but it felt right to her all the same. Freddie was attractive and appealing, and she felt sure that she would enjoy his company as well as his bed, but the desire was missing from these thoughts.

"Let's start with wine and fake fucking," Hild answered cheerfully. "Maybe inspiration will take us, but for now I like the idea of just making him a little miserable." It was a start towards soothing her ego.

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let me go, let me lie low

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