magician's apprentice | been a hell of a ride but I'm thinking it's time to grow

[onebehind]

Dylan knew, coming out of the hospital if not going in, that getting sober wasn't going to be easy. He knew he'd have bad days and good days and days in between, and every therapist he's seen since then, every meeting he's been to has only reaffirmed that. They'd also armed him with a bag of tricks to deal with everything and everything in between, but -- well, today is one of the bad ones and nothing is helping. He's been pacing the house like a madman for the better part of the day, trying to find something to hold his attention long enough that he can stop thinking about running down to the nearest liquor store. He needs to get out of his skin. He's just shy of calling his sponsor. He needs to get out of the house.

He needs to get out of the house.

Stopping midway through moving a pile of books from one side of the living room to the other, he latches onto that idea and turns it over in his head. He needs to get out of the house.

He's moving again a second later, though this time, it's with a purpose, a clarity he hasn't felt like he's had in hours, days, weeks. He goes to Jack's room, tapping lightly on the door, and then after a beat and once he's been invited in, sticks his head in. Flashing him a smile that's equal parts reassuring and strained (he's fine, they're fine, this is nothing bad, he's just a little jittery, don't mind him), he tells him, "Hey. Pack your shit."

He has an idea. It'll be good for both of them.

Comments

[onebehind]

"I'll let you know if I need you to back off," he answers, ever-gentle, "but you're good. I'm good. We're okay."

[the_death_card]

Jack takes a breath and lets it out, nodding. "Okay." He pauses a beat before he repeats, "Okay."

Another pause, and he looks back to the sketchbook. "Kinda cool that you drew me," he says, his smile returning at the corners of his mouth. He means that, too.

[onebehind]

Dylan smiles, the expression a little embarrassed. "More than once. That's just the best set of 'em, as I was figuring out how to do it. I, uh -- I figured I should ... I mean, if we're gonna do Halloween shit, next year, and you want me to design something ... "

[the_death_card]

The smile grows as he practically beams. "Oh hell yeah," he returns immediately. "That'd be awesome."

He honestly hadn't been that upset about it when Dylan had told him about his own plans for Halloween this year, but if Dylan's offering something for next year, he's absolutely on board with it.

[onebehind]

His embarrassment fading, Dylan shifts a little in his seat, clearly itching to put pencil to paper right now. The only thing that really stops him is, "I'd ask if you had any ideas about what kinda thing you'd wanna do, but I really don't know how much of this either of us are gonna remember, when we wake up."

It is a dream, after all, and he's never really played much with lucid dreaming, so he has no basis for comparison.

[the_death_card]

"I don't really have anything right now anyway?" Jack returns and reassures. "If I remember we talked about it I can think about it though? Or you can suggest something if you think of something you think would be cool?"

Dylan obviously knows what's cool considering the costume he had designed for himself this year.

Also, take note, universe, that this may be one of the only times a teenager actually thought his parent was cool.

[onebehind]

Dylan is silent for a moment, albeit largely for effect, given what he asks next. "Can I get that cool thing in writing somewhere?"

[the_death_card]

Jack tilts his head - and then rolls his eyes. "I said something you think might be cool, I didn't say I was gonna agree," he shoots back, teasing.

Never mind that he did have the thought that the Masque costume had been cool, and considering they're in each other's heads, he might as well have said that outloud. He's not thinking about that part.

[onebehind]

Leaning forward, Dylan raises his eyebrows and reaches to tap his fingers against his temple. "Wanna try that one again?"

[the_death_card]

Jack rolls his eyes again, but he's still smiling. "Yeah, fine, your Halloween costume was cool," he says like it's a great effort to admit. Nevermind the fact that he's made no secret about how cool he finds everything to do with the Eye and magic.

It's also fairly obvious through the connection that he's teasing - like he knows Dylan is, too.

[onebehind]

Dylan tips his head to one side, then the other, weighing whether or not he plans on accepting that answer. In the end, he decides, "Yeah, I'll take it."

[the_death_card]

Jack snorts - and then laughs more honestly as he turns his attention back to the book, flipping through more pages. "You drew your tattoo, right?" he asks after a minute, glancing up again.

[onebehind]

"Yeah," Dylan confirms, having sobered as Jack returned to the sketchbook. Something more thoughtful crosses his expression as he studies Jack, however, and after a moment, he asks, "I've never showed you the bolt hole, though, have I?"

[the_death_card]

Jack frowns for a moment, needing to place what Dylan's talking about, and then shakes his head when he actually remembers the meaning of the word in this context. "Huh uh," he says. "What about it?"

[onebehind]

"Here, hold on a second," he answers, already pushing to his feet.

It takes him a moment to strip out of his shirt, but once he's bare, he turns, putting his back to Jack. From this angle, it's hard to see him rubbing his fingers together as he pulls on his magic, but the sensation is there, power gathering and then dispersing as he touches the tattoo.

Light races along the edges of it, circling the grain of the wood in a spiral that comes together at the bolt hole, like water swirling down a drain. When it reaches the center, it spreads out again, a stylized Eye lighting up with the hole as the pupil. The hidden image lingers for a moment before fading -- a glow in the dark star burning out its sunlight.

Dylan half-turns then, glancing at Jack over his shoulder. "You see it?"

[the_death_card]

Jack frowns, feeling something coming but not sure what it is. He sets the book aside as Dylan stands and pulls his shirt off. He can feel the magic gather, a storm on the horizon that fades as quick as it comes.

His eyes go wide as he watches the light spread over the tattoo, as it lights up the Eye hidden in the tattoo. "Holy shit," he breathes. "I'm not even gonna pretend that's not fucking awesome. How does that work? Is it like... the kind of ink or whatever?"

Don't tell him 'magic'.

[onebehind]

He's sorry, Jack, but he can't help himself.

"Magic."

While he expects that will earn him another eyeroll and another denouncement, he still flashes him a smirk as he turns to face him again. Thankfully, it fades as he reaches to pull his shirt back on and as he explains, "I know a guy who figured out the trick to making blacklight ink react to magic, too."

A moment of pause follows, something thoughtful creeping onto his face. "Obviously, it lights up when I touch it -- " With intent. " -- but I haven't actually tested whether or not it lights up when I'm just doing unrelated shit."

Clearly, that's something they should test when they're both awake and not where the tattoo will behave exactly as Dylan expects it should.

[the_death_card]

Jack does, in fact, lineface at him for a moment when he turns back around. Fuck you, sir.

It doesn't last long, though, the awe returning. "Yeah, we need to try that," Jack says, agreeing to what Dylan didn't say.

"When did you get it?"

[onebehind]

Dylan presses his mouth into a thin line, too, though in his case, the expression is more thoughtful than anything else. He's had the tattoo for so long it feels like it's always been a part of him. He actually has to think, to pin down when he actually got it.

"I was in my early twenties," he decides, finally. A pause, and then he ventures, "I think I got it, like, right after I joined the Eye."

[the_death_card]

"Nice," Jack says. He has no frame of reference as to how it should look, but he does know it still looks awesome. "Have you thought about getting anymore?"

Jack's thought here and there about getting a tattoo once he turns 18, though he doesn't have any solid ideas on what he'd get, yet.

[onebehind]

Dylan's eyes drop to the sketchbook still in Jack's lap. If he looks at it now, the pages are filled with tattoo ideas Dylan has had, some of them ideas he's had for himself, some work he's done for other people. The difference, somehow, is clear, despite the fact that there's nothing to clarify on the pages.

"All the time." A beat. "I honestly dunno why I haven't, to tell you the truth."

If he has reasons, they're a little fuzzy in the here and now.

[the_death_card]

Jack turns his attention back to the sketchbook, flipping through it all over again, looking at the designs. It is clear to him which is which somehow, and he turns a few pages before he speaks again.

"I've thought about getting one a couple times. Don't really know what, though," he says, still looking at the book. "And I'd've had to wait until I was 18 anyway."

And this is a time where it wouldn't have made a difference whether he had a responsible adult to help him, since New York requires people to be 18 to get one even with parent approval.

[onebehind]

Dylan hums, eyes drifting back down to the sketchbook as Jack looks away from it. He stares at it, through it, for a moment before returning his attentions back to Jack. "Yeah, well. You figure out what you want, and I'll do the art for it. We can go do it on your birthday."

And he'll foot the bill.

Assuming that's something Jack's interested in, anyway.

[the_death_card]

Jack looks up, still grinning. "Yeah? That'd be awesome. I'll have to think about it."

Like he said he's had a few things he thought about maybe getting tattooed, but nothing's really stuck with him. He's got over six months to think about it, though. Plenty of time.

"You get commissioned by a lot of people?"

[onebehind]

Dylan nods. Yes, he's serious, and yes, Jack has time to think about it. Better not to commit to anything here and now anyway, just in case.

A tip of his head follows at the question, the gesture a so-so. "I get a lot more requests than I actually take on? I mean, I don't mind doing art for other people, but I kind of -- I don't want it to start feeling like actual work, you know?"

He's discerning about what he actually choses to do so he doesn't get burned out.