(no subject)

[bloodyrockgod]

Charlie sits on the bed crossed-legged and writes.

Last night with Bartleby, he did . . . something. In my head. Moved something away or sheilded it or covered it or something. So I was still sick and sore, but I wasn't begging for horse anymore. That's a step up.

He's a real, actual angel and that must be why when I'm with him I feel like someone worth saving so damn good.

Nothing about this place makes any sense if you look at it in parts, but if you look at it all together, it's really quite wonderful. It's a bit like the island, really: a hodgepodge of people with their own histories, coming together out of necessity.

I just don't want to disappoint anyone this time.

Got to play for hours and no one complained of the singing. I blame the Muse entirely.

He puts the notebook aside and curls up on the bed.

Comments

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

Bartleby has changed into the T-short and bottoms he normally sleeps in, and comes back through into the bedroom, drying his hair with a towel. "Alright?"

[bloodyrockgod]

Charlie manages to smile. "Yeah. Hey. Sorry about that--in the bar."

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"Du-Charlie, it's no problem. You're tired and sick. I get that." He drops the towel on the floor carelessly.

[bloodyrockgod]

Charlie burrows deeper into the sweatshirt. "So. Um. Do we wait until the symptoms start coming back before we do the head thing, or do you want to try sooner than that?"

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

Bartleby shrugs. "I say wait. Don't want to do it any more often than I have to."

[bloodyrockgod]

"Right." Charlie strips down to just the sweatshirt and his shorts and lies back again. "It's just . . . I'm scared, Bartleby. It hurts so much."

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

Bartleby perches next to him on the bed, cross-legged, and stroking a hand through his hair again. "I know. You'll have to keep holding on."

[bloodyrockgod]

"Yeah. Holding on," he murmurs, and tells himself the shivering is from memory, not because he's cold again. "Talk to me, Bartleby. Tell me a story, or something. Tell me about you."

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"Me?" Bartleby shrugs. "Angel who fucked up. Not very interesting. I can do stories, on the other hand." He thinks.

[bloodyrockgod]

"Anything, Bartleby. Just talk."

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"Once upon a time, a long, long time ago - before your time or - well, not really before my time, but we'll run with it - there lived a sorceror."

[OOC: Now you've dropped me in it. I normally only tell stories to small children. As you'll be able to tell.]

[bloodyrockgod]

"Was he grumpy? I understand wizards and such are usually grumpy."



[ooc: Whee! Storytime!]

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"Not really. This was one of those sorcerors who doesn't really bother anyone. ived in his tower, stirred his cauldrons, talked to his frog. The usual."

[bloodyrockgod]

"His frog. Naturally," Charlie says wisely and pulls himself closer to Bartleby so he can lay his head on the angel's knee.

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"He was quite a shy sorceror, in fact. He'd not been a sorceror for long - only 88 yeasrs, which in sorceror terms made him a very young man. The only company he ever had was his frog." Bartleby combs through the hair just above Charlie's ear, scritching sightly.

[bloodyrockgod]

"I had no idea frogs were so friendly," Charlie murmurs sleepily. "Or so long-lived."

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"Magic frogs are. This frog was called Oswald. And the sorceror was called - well, he had a sorcery-name, which was long and terrible and runic, but for ordinary purposes he called himself Trevor. He had thick glasses and untidy hair. And he blushed a lot. Oswald's main entertainment was making him blush."

[bloodyrockgod]

"Oswald and Trevor," repeats Charlie with a chuckle. "And how did Oswald make Trevor blush?"

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"By making rude jokes, laughing at him, tripping him up... anything, really. Trevor blushed quite easily."

[OOC: Tomorrow?]

[bloodyrockgod]

"A bit like me, always ass-over-teakettle." He yawns, far too comfortable to do anything more.

[ooc: tomorrow. :D]

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

Bartleby laughs a little. "Anyway, Oswald, despite all appearances, was very fond of Trevor, and wanted him to be happy. And Trevor very definitely wasn't happy, all lonely in his great laboratory. So Oswald decided to help him, and started organising a great party, without telling Trevor, to be held in Trevor's tower - there were many rooms that Trevor never used, and it was perfect for a house - well, tower - party."

[bloodyrockgod]

Charlie peers at Bartleby, wondering if this is some sort of metaphor for an event in Bartleby's own life--but decides to just listen to the story. It's too cozy to ask questions.

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

"He invited everyone, and told them to bring their friends. It was a Bring Your Own Mead party, because Oswald, like many frogs, was a cheap little bastard. And of course, he invited the local... loose women. And told them to definitely bring their friends."

[bloodyrockgod]

Charlie chortles against Bartleby's knee.

[watch-wait.livejournal.com]

Bartleby looks down at him and grins, stroking a hand through his hair again. "Oswald kept putting off telling Trevor about this party. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was nervous of what Trevor would say. So, half an hour before the arrivals were due to begin, Trevor was still pottering around his laboratory in a potion-stained robe and bare feet."