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ionizedyeast · 5 years ago

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Title: 0180304 - Workplace Relationship Part 1/2 “Statement of Nelson Briar, Head of Folklore and Legend Research of the Magnus Institute, and his relationship and events surrounding Michael Shelley prior to becoming the Distortion. Statement given --.”

“That’s enough, let’s get right to it, Jon. You know, I’m the reason Elias had to start being more lax about employee relationships within the Institute. It’s not like we had been keeping anything secret, though. Gertrude knew before anyone else and then Diane did. And as far as I know, we were close to being the primary reason for gossip. But you’re not here to listen to me talk about the watercooler chatter of the Magnus Institute. You want to know what happened with me and Michael before well. . . Before I lost him.

I came here from the States back in late 2006. I had just started a Master’s program and had been working in the Usher Foundation back in DC since I was an undergrad. My area of study was well received by the Foundation and thankfully the Institute was more than willing to have me as a grad student in residence. I would have the chance to utilize any of their resources for my studies. Well, not any. It’s funny, knowing what I know now about the Institute, I’ve got to say there were loads of red flags about me coming out here. Probably starting with the fact the Lukas family funded my transfer and were going to cover my education. But I didn’t know anything about the Lukases back then. We have our own cryptic families back in Washington and as far as we were concerned, the Institute had a keen grasp on whatever the Lukases were doing, and weren’t our problem.

You had just started around that time too, hadn’t you, Jon? Wasn’t I your immediate superior for a while? I forget, I still can’t quite figure out the hierarchy here. You’re Head Archivist. I’m Head of Folklore -- are we equals in the Institute or are were on completely different levels. Ah, nevermind, we can talk about that outside of the recording. Reminiscing can wait.

I was, I think I was the third in residence student-employee the Institute had taken in. My predecessors had long since finished their studies and moved on elsewhere. South Africa and Russia, if I recall. I never had the chance to meet them, but as far as what Elias had told me in during my orientation, that’s what I had gathered about them. Wonder what they’re up to. . . But I digress. I was the third, but I was the first that was actively using the archive statements as fodder for my research. See, my focus area was in covering unifying themes throughout world cultures through the means of folklore. Obviously we’ve got the standards -- creation myths, the afterlife, explanations of nature, harvest -- the usual. But my studies were taking me elsewhere. To concepts that overlapped and had uncanny similarities, even when the cultures were worlds away. Some could be explained as just the natural need for humans to find comfort in what they didn’t understand. Death and the dark were most common. I could always figure out ways to connect these points, even if the cultures were wildly different. What was the geography like? The weather during this time period. How were their relations with nearby enemy and ally communities? I could usually pinpoint what needed to be explained and tied together. But some things I never could quite get a grasp on.

You see, Jon, in my decade plus at the Institute, I’ve probably dug too deep for just a simple scholar. I don’t study to know things for a sense of omniscience. I study to satisfy my own curiosity. While it’s always a thrill to share my academic findings with anyone who will listen, it’s always been primarily a personal gain. So I suppose that was one reason why Elias ended up granting me permission to study the archives. With limitations of course. Gertrude wasn’t the most thrilled about it. But I was not prying through with the intentions of exposing the secrets I uncovered to the world. No, it was for myself. And somewhere down the line, well, I wouldn’t call myself an expert by any means. But I did find myself very familiar with some common trends. Of course this wouldn’t all come in to play until some time after Michael, er, vanished.

Michael and I met sometime in early 2007. I had been here for a few months and I was bouncing between working as a shelver in the library and a research assistant -- we briefly were colleagues at this time, though back then we never really spoke to one another. What a shame. Imagine how close we’d be now if we had.

It wasn’t exactly what I would call a remarkable meeting. Gertrude had sent him to the library to have access to our private records for some sort of report but we didn’t have anyone to accompany him at the time so we just talked. I called him enormous or something to that extent -- I’m a small guy, Jon. I’m easily astounded at tall people -- he found my reaction funny. Somehow or another he mentioned the kind of research he was conducting for Gertrude and it was actually something I had quite a bit of experience in. I’d just had an article get published about the topic, so I talked his ear off for a bit before Diane came to take him to the back. Michael came back to the library at the end of the day and asked I’d like to get a coffee with him sometime. Didn’t realize it was a date until the third time we’d gone out for coffee and he started buying. It was casual dating, you know what I mean? The kind where you spend the first few dates just getting to know one another. Talking about what you had in common. What hobbies you had. Your friends. Family. Rather commonplace stuff just to test the waters. And while we had a few disagreements in interests, we kept coming back to the things we did have in common. You’ll have to forgive me, but when it comes to other people’s perceptions of me, I am very dense. Beyond the surface level of ‘this person likes me’, ‘this person tolerates me’ and ‘this person dislikes me’ I have an incredibly difficult time reading people. Even when Michael was holding my hand on our forth date, I still kept telling myself, “Oh Nel, he’s one of those people that uses physical contact to show he’s engaged in conversation.” And frankly it wasn’t until I started sleeping with him -- oh, christ, too much? Sorry, not really the right sort of content to be sharing. But you see my point. I didn’t realize Michael and I had been legitimately dating for nearly eight months. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I’d realized sooner, he wouldn’t have -- you know what, nevermind. There’s no use dwelling on it. Michael is dead. He gave himself up to stop the Spiral’s ritual and that’s all that matters. He did us a service but well, it put me into a bind. Kind of literally. I’ll fast forward through our relationship -- we were all but short of living together. My apartment was too small. Would you believe it was Lukas housing? And he was living too far for me to comfortably be able to commute after my longer days. He was something of a rock for me on my rough days where I’d be at the Institute well into the night. I didn’t like being there late. Always felt like someone was watching me. Heh, well, it wasn’t paranoia. And present me is glad to reassure past Nelson that no, he was not being an anxious mess. He really was being watched. Some nights Michael would stay with me until I finished what I had been working on. Other nights he’d make a point of coming back later in the evening to check on me only to have to wake me up and send me home. Sometimes I wonder if he had ever actually gone home those days. He’d become wrapped up in his own studies under Gertrude. It wasn’t my business so I never asked unless he chose to share.

That’s a lie, and you know it, don’t you? I was a snoop. I would hear Michael mentioning things some nights when I stayed at his place. Whatever it was Gertrude was having him do, it was eating at him. He talked about always being afraid he was taking the wrong door when he was going places. He’d started taking photographs of the doors he used most often. Told me to make sure it was so he wouldn’t get lost. He didn’t want to go somewhere he couldn’t leave. I suggested he put something on the doors he used most so he wouldn’t get confused. But it didn’t seem to reassure him. Some nights he didn’t sleep at all. He’d either just lay in bed with me until the sun came up. Some mornings I’d wake up to find him facing a wall, hand outstretched as if he were taking a doorknob. He would always be so relieved when I called out to him. He’d always settle into bed next to me and he wouldn’t speak. He would just hang tight on to me and just remain still and silent. Now, trust me, Michael was not mentally ill. I mean, your standard depression and anxiety like nearly everyone our age, but he wasn’t unmedicated, nor was he struggling with anything else. Or maybe he was and he just didn’t know. But I genuinely believe -- no, I know -- that how he was acting was not a sign of mental illness. Something had him. I can only say now that I know something had him, because I know what happened now. He only started acting himself again in the days before he and Gertrude left. He was excited. Talked about how thrilled he was to be needed for something so important. He loved his work and he was very dedicated to aiding Gertrude in her work as well. And he was himself again for a short while. We’d been together I think a little over two years at this point. Longest I’ve ever been with a man. Most men get turned off by me being trans so early in the relationship, but Michael didn’t mind. He just liked me and I have to say, hiccups in his health aside, I think we were very happy together. He was so optimistic that week before -- said that he thought that it was time that we moved in together properly. He said he’d seen some places for rent a bit closer to the Institute that on our combined income would be a walk in the park. He wanted to know if my parents were ever going to be visiting London again because he felt he was ready to meet them. After two years together of us being content in our stations, suddenly he was ready to make more of these commitments with me and honestly. . .I couldn’t have been happier. I was half expecting him to mention marriage at some point, but it still seemed a bit soon for that. But I wouldn’t have said no. We were happy. And when he woke me up before leaving for his flight, kissed me and told me he loved me -- I was sure I had such a bright future to look forward to. I was absolutely in love with Michael Shelley, and. . .

You know how the Spiral is the concept of the fear of lies and deception? You know how it alters your perception of reality? You know how it twists and writhes and fills you with doubt and frustration? With how it makes you question anything and everything in your life? Imagine all of that culminating at once. Imagine suddenly being stricken by the anger and betrayal of whether or not this man you absolutely adored was lying to you. Betrayal of ones feelings I think might be the absolute worst thing you could ever experience.

I had eagerly counted down the days of Michael’s return. It was all I could hope for. I had found a few places I wanted to look at with him. I’d even called my parents back in Massachusetts to tell them the good news. And when Gertrude came back alone? She pulled me aside and told me at the very least she owed me some sort of answer. I had thought Michael maybe had just gone straight home and gone to bed. He probably had some sort of jetlag and needed to rest. But all she told me was that Michael would not be coming back. And she wouldn’t say anything more.

I found out what happened on my own. Though I think Elias may have had something to do with it. Who am I kidding, I know he had something, maybe everything to do with it. My access to the archives was cut off after Michael left. I wasn’t allowed in unless Gertrude saw it absolutely necessary and I was under strict supervision. In the past she’d noticed that I’d swipe the occasional statement for a few days before returning it and she wasn’t...too fond of that. Or me in general. I think her general dislike of me is half the reason, if not all the reason I never joined the archives team, despite being a perfect fit for the position. No, it wasn’t just Elias. Michael I think left me hints too. I had gone to his apartment after a week thinking maybe he might have actually needed some space before we moved in together and that’s why Gertrude was being cryptic because she didn’t know herself. But when I got there, the apartment had been untouched since I’d left for work the morning of Michael’s departure. Everything was in its place. I spoke to his landlord, mentioned that he had disappeared and that the place needed to be cleaned out. But as it were, before he left he’d put my name on the lease somehow. It had seemed he might have actually prepared for this. I mean, I know now that he had. But back then I was so angry. But I couldn’t just express it. I felt like nothing made sense. I felt like he had abandoned me, but in such a way where he wanted me to be taken care of in his absence. I didn’t understand any of it. Rent had been paid up for the next few months and I was able to use this time to take care of my own affairs. I moved in to Michael’s apartment. I kept his name on the least just in case. I decided I’d rather have a longer nightly commute home than live in that lonely apartment of mine. I’d like some sort of company even if it was in the form of Michael’s belongings. The unfortunate side was that the apartment now had twice as much stuff and I had to do some cleaning. It was while I was cleaning, I found some of Michael’s hints. Statements that I had never laid my eyes on. Photocopies of ones that were likely still in the archive. In truth, Michael had been lying to me. More than he let on. But now I realize it had been a lie to protect me. He could only do so much for me while he was around though, ‘cause before you knew it, I was absorbing as much information as I possibly could about what he’d left behind for me to read. It was astounding. What he’d left for me perfectly summed up so many of the connections in the study I’d been finishing for my grad studies. Who would have guessed that my own boyfriends disappearance would have led to me completing my degree! I say this happily, but it’s breaking my heart to do so. I really loved Michael, you know. I couldn’t really bear the idea of being without him. Maybe that’s what pushed me to start breaking into the archives late at night. Maybe that’s how and why Elias started watching me. I don’t know if it was because he disapproved of what I was doing, or if he was just curious. I, uh, I don’t know if you’ve caught on. But Elias doesn’t watch all of us. Just those he thinks have some sort of weight. It probably had to do with how much I buried myself in what Michael left behind for me. After I obtained my degree all I could do was start researching. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have signed the proper employment contract. 20/20 as they say. I was obsessed, Jon. The moment I found out Sannikov Land wasn’t real, I lost myself. I tore apart the myths and legends I’d been studying my entire life to find some sort of hint or connections between what Michael left for me and the truth of it all. You’ll um, have to forgive me a bit if the rest sounds a little disjointed. Between Michael’s disappearance and Gertrude’s death, my grasp on reality started to. Slip? None of my memories connect smoothly. There’s patches. Blanks in time. I can only take a guess that these were from periods where I was lost in my own mania.

I wouldn’t say the Spiral had me yet. But it was definitely effecting my daily life. Like Michael, I started to see the doors. I started to find myself caught in lies and deception and doing whatever I could to find answers. I was living to deceive as long as it benefited me and my search. And like it had always been. They were selfish pursuits. It was knowledge I had to know for myself. It was knowledge I needed to obtain because I needed to find out what happened to Michael. Elias never intervened. He never tried to stop me. I have a couple memories of him pulling me aside and supplying me with some information that might help steer me on the right path. Or maybe the wrong one. I don’t know. Like I said. Those years were hazy. But he always seemed so pleased by my progress. He knew then. He had to know. This is Elias we’re talking about. He had to have known where I was headed. Jackass... I don’t have much clarify until shortly after Gertrude died. I had been in the halls. I was staring at something on the wall -- probably a door. I passed Elias. He didn’t look right. He looked like he was staring through me. Said something about how someone should lock the archives. Gertrude had passed away and he needed to make sure the room was locked up until someone new was hired. He handed me a key and sent me on my way. I think he was telling me to take what I needed if it would help me in my search for Michael. Whatever it is I had found, that was when I think I had finally succumbed to the Spiral’s influence over me.

You know the funny part about this. . .We didn’t hear that Gertrude passed away for another three days. I suppose that’s the funny thing about being touched by the Spiral. You just accept the falsehoods, even when you know they’re falsehoods. And in the end? It benefited me. Just as I always wanted.

Since I’m being honest here. Being in that labyrinth was the first time in years I actually didn’t feel like I was losing my mind. I wasn’t scared. In fact it felt like taking a walk in the park. I held a large armful of folders of statements in my arms. And all I did was walk. I passed countless doors and passages and turned through winding corners and corridors and nothing about it filled me with any dread or unease. It felt like I belonged there. I say this knowing full well that my comfort likely had something to do with being in the domain of what had been driving me those past few years. I don’t think the Distortion liked my reaction, though. At one point, I found a dead end. There was only one door, and when I opened it, I was back in my office. I didn’t imagine it, of course. That wouldn’t be the first time I ventured there. I usually went in of my own volition. I don’t know if the Distortion found me to be a nuisance or not. But whenever I saw a new door, I simply would knock first and announce I was coming in. And whenever I went in, it was just the same. An odd comfort like I belonged there. I felt like a visitor in someone’s home. It was like when I first started to spend the night at Michael’s. It was as if the halls were no harm to me, even though it was not my dwelling. I was allowed to be there. Perhaps I was even being invited. But if the Spiral disliked my presence, it never did so in such a way that caused me any fear or harm.

It was my third time within the Spiral that I started calling out.

I had done enough research by now and learned enough to know what the Spiral was. What it could do. Where it was leading me. And to know all about Michael’s connection to it. And I started to call his name, hoping I might hear him respond. I didn’t want to believe he was dead yet. I wanted to believe he was somewhere within these halls and he needed to be found. Even at the cost of myself, I wasn’t going to leave him. And then, it hit me. The more I called for him, the more welcoming the halls became. The more I began to find that I wasn’t just comfortable. I was welcome. I was able to spend more and more time in the Spiral each time. I knew quite well that I was likely losing more and more of myself with each trip. I would talk to no one, or perhaps someone, whenever I was there. I would have conversations with whatever was residing in the halls. Like I was spending my time with a friend. Like I was talking to Michael. Maybe it was something I did to keep myself grounded the deeper I ventured. When I came out, I often could not sleep. I wouldn’t show up to work for days at a time, either due to the passage of time itself in the Spiral, or just because I couldn’t find the strength. My visits only began to slow when I started to notice the door in Michael’s apartment. It had stopped appearing anywhere else. Just Michael’s place. There had been something etched into the door. The method I had given Michael about how to be sure the doors he used in his regular life were the right ones. There had been a slight carving around the doorknob. I had etched it into the door of Michael’s apartment back when he first started to show signs of concern. It was his door. But he was not here to open it. It sat across from our bed, like it was waiting for me. It wanted me to open it. But this time, I was not invited to come inside. So I did something else. I just opened it. I opened the door and I left it open wide. And I said that whatever was in there that wanted to see me so badly could come out. This was a new behavior. And I welcomed it, just as it had welcomed me. That was when I met the Distortion.

It didn’t look like Michael when I first met with it. It looked like a young woman, maybe late teens. Dark skin and hair but her shoulders were unnaturally hunched up and her hands. They were so long and spindly. She was dressed in gym wear, a loose, cut up t-shirt and yoga pants. And she sat on the bed in front of me. I left the door open. Day in, day out. I had left an invitation for the Spiral to come in to my residence and it took a week or so before it took form and visited me. I had managed to be sleeping that night, but something stirred in me and caused me to wake up. And I found it sitting cross legged on the bed. Just staring at me. I don’t think the Spiral had decided to use Michael’s form yet when it came to mingling with people yet. Maybe I was the reason it started to, but I wasn’t sure. Still not.

It asked me a question. It’s voice unnerved me and it smiled at me as it spoke and there was something so wholly unsettling about that smile. Like my head was aching from just looking at it. And it asked what was so important that I was always coming in its doors. It told me it was quite bothered by my coming in and making no means of trying to escape, or find its center. It didn’t like that I was searching for someone rather than something. I told it that I was looking for my boyfriend. He was inside there somewhere and I was going to bring him out. I’m not sure if it liked that response but it left after that. Not for good, because a few nights later the same thing happened. But this time, it sat in the form of a man. He was about forty or so, olive skin, light hair with a stern, crooked nose and a scruffy beard. It asked if this was the person I had been looking for. And I said no. And it was gone again. This went on every few nights for, god, close to a year. Each time I would give it another bit about how Michael looked. I tried to show it a photograph before but when it looked at my phone, the screen just went fuzzy and I had to restarted it in order for it to work right again.

Until one night it got it right. It spoke in the same voice, although there was a different, almost feedback like twang to the way it spoke to me. And when I awoke, the Spiral had gotten it right. I saw my Michael sitting on the bed in front of me and the sight of him was enough to get me to throw off my covers and kneel in front of him, hands upon his face. I must have been crying or maybe it was looking straight at the Spiral, but I couldn’t get a clear look at him. I told it that it was right and this was the person I was looking for. And I needed him back.

And you know what it said?

‘No, I don’t think so.’

I don’t think I had ever been so scared to see Michael’s smile. It just smiled at me and it ran the tip of one of those long, spindly fingers under my chin and I hadn’t even registered that it had made me bleed. And it just said ‘No, I think I shall keep this one a little more. See how far you’re willing to go to get him back.’

And it went into the door again. This time it smiled the whole way. And when the door closed. I was immediately on my feet to run at it to chase it down. But the door was gone.

I took something equivalent to a sabbatical a few weeks later, Jon -- it was around the time you started as archivist. Tim had been working beneath me before my sabbatical and I think that’s part of what drove him to join your team. I was going to be gone for a few months and I wouldn’t have the chance to give him any work to do. Elias was more than happy to give me the time off, but he did something to me. I think as assurance I wouldn’t go running away forever. I think I had started to become a threat to him in some way. Not sure how. Still not. Part of me is somewhat convinced that Elias was planning on using me to get the Spiral to touch you, but I don’t things went exactly as he expected. Especially considering the Spiral had plans of its own.

I was on leave for about three months. I took a few weeks to fly back to the States to visit my parents and check in with the Foundation. I checked in with the archive staff there to see if I could scour some of their resources for what I had been experiencing. But we were never as well equipped with statements as the Magnus Institute. I found a lot of my efforts there weren’t really worth my time. Although I did learn a little about a few groups in North America that had their eye -- Jon, keep an eye out on the Codley family of New York. They’re a cult family, but I wasn’t able to pinpoint of what exactly. If I find out more, I’ll let you know. I only met one person back at the Usher Foundation that knew anything that might help me. In fact, it was their own archivist, man by the name of Warren Chase. I’m actually still in touch with him, if you ever want to meet him. He seems to be following your accounts pretty intensely. Said that he’s been having duplicates of your statements and recordings sent to him. We know who’s to blame for that, obviously. Truth be told, he’d asked me to come back to the Foundation. He wanted me to join his team, but I had to decline. Work here is far too time consuming. But, you see, Warren hadn’t been touched by the Spiral, but he’d been touched by the Stranger. Stranger apparently is very tied in with the Foundation. Something to do with the number of secret organization and secret government activities happening back in the States that there are people within our own organizations that are not what they seem to be. Now, Warren seemed to be far more optimistic about my situation than I was. Told me that if one can keep their head when dealing with these entities, you can retrieve someone lost to them. I mean...you were able to bring back Daisy. I’ve had no such luck.

Jon, I know Michael’s gone now. The Spiral swaps its forms whenever it so chooses and I know it discarded Michael’s form when I. . .When I took too long. I’ve met it as it is now. Helen is the name of the woman it appears as. It’s told me that I knows me, but it has no attachment for me now like it had when it was Michael. It knows Michael had loved me.

But it was the time that the Distortion was Michael that was what ultimately brought me to where I am. I’m just one foray or so away from becoming its next avatar at this point and I mean it when I say that I am absolutely fine with that. I spent the time of my leave looking for those doors. Looking for how to get into the Spiral from other entrance ways and other methods to get myself lost in those halls again. This time from a new vantage point, from a new perspective. I was going to find Michael and I was going to bring him home! And I like to think that I nearly succeeded. It might sound absurd to you but, I think I had become something like friends with the Spiral by the time I had figured some things out. It probably started when I had encountered it behind a bar during my last few days in the States before returning to London. It was preying on this young woman who was trying to tell her friends about this store she’d kept passing each day on her home from work, and each time she would try to take someone there it was always an old butcher’s shop, long since closed down. I had noticed the Spiral lurking around and when I found myself in the men’s room looking at what appeared to be a door to the outside, I stepped out of the room and found the actual entrance to the back of the bar. The Spiral had been waiting for me, wearing Michael’s face as it had grown fond of doing. And I told it that I had figured one thing out. I knew that just because it looked like Michael, it was not Michael. And I think that curried my favor with it a bit. It liked that I was playing its game and calling its bluff. And it became just that with me and the Distortion. A game between the two of us. The Spiral in its own way was entertained by my dedication. And somewhere down the line, I think we became, well, I like to think we had become friends. Or as close to friends as you can be wit the entity of Deceit.” And Nelson stops, and he stands up and smiles at Jon. “I think this is where you say ‘Statement ends’ isn’t it?” The recording does not stop, but Jon looks up at the researcher who has now raised to his feet and offered a smirk to the archivist. “You’d be surprised how many of us can be touched by our host without losing our wits. Maybe I’ll indulge you with the rest sometime. Take care, Jon.”

#tma #the magnus archives #OC fanfition #evan talks his ocs #nelsoncore

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soveryanon · 6 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG127 /o/ (with rambling/pondering/speculating/ etc.)

- Albrecht Von Closen’s letter from MAG023 had been referenced twice in the series so far, and reminding myself of both gave me different kind of heartbreak. First… Tim mentioned it at the beginning of MAG033:

(MAG033) ARCHIVIST: […] Was there anything else? TIM: Oh yeah, just one. ARCHIVIST: Good lord. TIM: So, in case 8163103… it isn’t clear if Albrecht’s wife is called “Clara” or “Carla”, ‘cause you keep switching back and forth… ARCHIVIST: Well, I’m sorry if I found it hard to read a two-hundred-year-old letter, written in cursive by a native German speaker. Who complained about that one? TIM: Oh, it’s, it’s not a complaint. Hum, I just noticed actually!

94 episodes later… Tim finally got his answer ;_; It was distinctively “Carla” in MAG127. Second thing: Martin came very close to destroying Albrecht’s statement in MAG118! It was actually the statement he was about to burn when Elias finally managed to unlock the door.

(MAG0118) MARTIN: Hello. ELIAS: What. Are you. Doing. MARTIN: That one… that one was Benjamin Hatendi. You weren’t fast enough for the key! ELIAS: What. Are. You. Doing. […] MARTIN: Oh sorry! Sorry, I’m not keeping you from the show, am I? Well, well you head back, I’ll keep myself busy here. Albrecht von Closen is next, I think. It’s quite an old one! Should go up very quickly.

I really doubt that Martin meaning harm to Albrecht’s statement made Elias try to go faster to stop him or anything �� he was already seething and had already left to get the key, it was really a matter of Martin burning statements which, overall, made him unable to fully focus on the group’s expedition and why he snapped hard at Martin (all going according to Martin’s keikaku). I’m more curious as to whether or not Martin… picking up this one was a total coincidence, or something partially spooky (Beholding-related intuition or Web drawing Martin towards it), since we now have confirmation that this letter was one chapter in a bigger story intrinsically tied to the creation of the Institute, and that Jon was spookily redirected towards another chapter in MAG127.

- That episode was very packed in… almost all aspects? Characters-wise, we learned about Melanie’s current state, a bit more about Martin’s state of mind when he began working with Peter, and about Jon’s own situation; we also got to hear ~*Elias*~ which gives some more food to speculate about what the eff is happening… and the statement, hoooooly Mew, the statement. Offering us a follow-up on MAG023, giving us another peek at Jonah Magnus, giving us a reminder that HI? NO, NOP, BEHOLDING IS NOT A HARMLESS ENTITY. IT’S JUST AS TERRIFYING AS THE OTHERS., and giving soooo many bits to speculate here and there…

- Jonathan Fanshawe immediately secured a place amongst the (very restricted) club of statement-givers with self-preservation skills.

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) Jonah, I must first and foremost decline your generous offer of a medical position servicing Millbank Penitentiary. While the terms you’ve laid out are no doubt more than adequate, I have, over these last months, come to the unfortunate conclusion that our intimacy and friendship must cease immediately. […] In the light of what I have so recently witnessed, I can no longer in good conscience associate with any of your endeavours. Nor will I continue to collect or provide all those accounts of the esoteric and otherworldly, that you and your… Institute so eagerly require. Consider this the severing of our acquaintance. […] … Do I need to tell you what I found, Jonah? Do I need to detail what covered his organs? His bones? The inside of his skin? What clustered together in their dozens, and all turned as to focus on me as I opened his chest? Their pupils constricting in the light, with irises of every hue and colour. Because whatever it was that did this to him, I know in my heart that it is your fault. I’ve had the body burned. Please, do not write to me again. Your obedient servant, Doctor Jonathan Fanshawe.

He sounded so, so cold and rigid and deadpan and dry and accusatory, hhh… That was an excellent tone. Very satisfying. We tend to hear fear, despair, vulnerability; here, it was… covered up with a veil of unimpressed anger and resentment?

- Regarding Jonah Magnus: Jon had described in MAG041 how Robert Smirke took over the Millbank prison project in 1815 and finished it in 1821. Jon had already theorized that the tunnels under the Institute couldn’t be remnants from the old prison, but probably tunnels constructed below it (MAG041: “when it was finally closed in 1890, it was demolished. Flattened. Which meant that what I was in now couldn’t be the old prison itself. It had to be something built below it.”); we know that the Institute was founded in 1818, and though I think it’s still not confirmed whether Smirke was behind the building or not (I assumed he was but can’t find any mention about it anymore?), Leitner referred to its tunnels as part of Smirke’s work (MAG080: “Over the years I have found that it interacts with Smirke’s architecture, and those tunnels specifically, in a more predictable way.”). The whole… concept behind the Millbank prison already reeked of Beholding (MAG041, Jon: “First proposed and designed in 1799 by Jeremy Bentham, a philosopher who wished to test his theories of the panopticon prison, where cells would be arranged in a circle around a single, central guard tower, so all cells were observable at once. It was to have six such areas, arranged in hexagons, giving it from the air the shape of a vast, angular flower.”); with Jonathan Fanshawe mentioning Jonah’s offer of a job in the prison (MAG127: “I must first and foremost decline your generous offer of a medical position servicing Millbank Penitentiary. […] I do not know what interest you have in the poor condemned souls within those walls, nor do I care to guess.”), it sounds more and more likely that Jonah and Robert Smirke did actually collaborate? How did Jonah Magnus come to have such an influence in Millbank, and what was his aim, indeed?

- Chronologically, the few things we know about Jonah Magnus:

*Jonah was already known for his interest in the supernatural:

(MAG023, Albrecht von Closen) […] I recall that during your visit last spring you mentioned your… fascination with the macabre and strange, and pressed upon me as to whether there were any such lore or legends that I myself were familiar with. Wolfgang writes me that you are acquiring quite the collection, and I feel that I now have something that belongs with it, far more than any of the fairy stories or old maids’ tales that I told you before.

*On March 31st 1816, Albrecht von Closen sent Jonah a letter, describing his adventure and a book he had retrieved, promising Jonah to show it to him:

(MAG023, Albrecht von Closen) a book, perhaps fallen from the shelves long ago. It was in far better condition than the others, perhaps due to where it had lain, and I was able to very carefully open it. I was disappointed to see that was not written in German, or even French or Latin, but appeared to be in Arabic. It seemed to be an illuminated manuscript of sorts, produced by hand and utterly beautiful, though I could not for the life of me have told you what it concerned. […] The book, though beautiful, stubbornly refused to offer up any clues to its contents. With your permission, I’ll bring it over for your expert eyes next time I have the pleasure of your company. […] Still, I look forward to showing you the book I have acquired, and the revelations you will no doubt glean from it.

*Sometime in 1818, Jonah Magnus founded the Magnus Institute.

*On April 9th 1824, Barnabas Bennett, prisoner in Mordechai Lukas’s dimension, pleaded Jonah for his help by leaving his letter in the Institute. Jonah, according to Elias, only witnessed his demise and collected his bones. (MAG092)

[*One year prior to April 1831, Albrecht von Closen, who had previously acquired the books from the Black Forest’s mausoleum at some point, had them rebound. Jonah Magnus apparently exchanged them with fakes at this time.]

*On November 21st 1831, Jonathan Fanshawe sent a letter to Jonah about the illness and death of Albrecht von Closen, after they returned the (fake) books to the mausoleum. Albrecht’s body was filled with eyes; his wife was already dead, and he had sons at the time of his passing. What happened to the sons afterwards is unclear. (MAG127)

*On June 12th 1841, Sampson Kempthorne sent Jonah a letter about the workhouse architecture of George Gilbert Scott (Robert Smirke’s disciple’s disciple, who was a bit dangerous according to Smirke). Sampson mentioned Jonah’s state:

(MAG050, Sampson Kempthorne) Dear Jonah, It is my fondest wish that this message should find you in good health, as I have heard more than one mutual acquaintance remark on your current state of overwork. While I earnestly hope it is merely idle gossip, my knowledge of your character leads me to entreat that you allow yourself some respite, or at the very least take some further secretarial staff into your employ. Certain uncharitable quarters would have it that your life consists of little but rattling around in Edinburgh Townhouse, surrounded by piles of ghostly accounts and lunatic documentation. Piles, I am afraid to say, to which I am about to make an addition.

I’m not sure if Jon making his mind about Jonah Magnus is a Certainty (inspired by spooky Beholding magic) or an assumption:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] “Jonah Magnus”. I’ve never really given much thought to him. Not nearly as much as I should have. I suppose I had always hoped there was a chance he was… innocent, in all this. I know, I know! But I had… [EXHALE] I had just… hoped that maybe the founding of the Institute was in earnest. And not simply the foundation stone for all the terrible things that have happened here. … But no. Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man.

But if it’s the latter… I’m not sure that Jon is making a good decision by shutting down other possibilities: he’s absolutely following Jonathan Fanshawe’s opinion here, but there might have been other interpretations for what Jonah did and why? After all, he could have stolen the books in an attempt to protect Albrecht from their influence (while he had probably been heavily contaminated by them already)? I’m mostly surprised at the fact that Jon just went ahead and labelled Jonah Magnus an “evil man” and assumed that the Institute was founded for bad reasons, as if suddenly this statement was proving a point, when… it was the opinion of one person, who felt betrayed, hurt (and partially worried for) a(n ex)friend. And time had passed since the founding: maybe the Institute had originally been founded with better intentions, and maybe Jonah got worse and worse… just like Jon could. Maybe there would be more to learn about Jonah’s life, if it was a gradual descent into Beholding – maybe knowing a bit more about it could help Jon find counter-measures. But maybe it’s also an easier story for Jon to swallow, right now: to think that people don’t change, can’t become corrupted, can’t start out good and gradually lose their ability to want to protect the people they care about.

- And now, this statement put the damn books back at the forefront: indeed… where do they come from? … technically, Jonah Magnus here didn’t remind me so much of Elias or of an Archivist, but more of… Jurgen Leitner? (That’s mean, I know!)

(MAG080) LEITNER: I… thought that I could control them. That I alone had the knowledge to contain them. Back then, I believed they were simply books. Horrifying, powerful, yes; but with rules, limits that could be charted. … I was a fool. I had no idea what forces lay behind them, or that they had other servants that might come searching. I was ruthless, I will admit that. I don’t know how many assistants I sacrificed to learn the secrets of the volumes I collected. Dozens, at least. Only a few escaped with their life and mind intact, and even then they were deeply marked. But I was relentless. I saw myself as a guardian, a reverse Pandora, gathering the evils of the world and locking them away.

Accumulating statements (and books) like Leitner was accumulating books, in his own personal building constructed through Smirke’s principles? Leitner was even known for getting his books custom-(re)bound!

(MAG004, Dominic Swain) The last seller I went to did recognise the name Jurgen Leitner, though. She told me Leitner had been a big name in the literary scene during the 1990s; some rich Scandinavian recluse paying absurd amounts of money for whatever books took his fancy. It was said he’d often have books custom-bound after providing a manuscript, or even commission authors to produce works to his brief – although she didn’t actually know any writers who had worked with Leitner.

Jon had been suspicious of the amount of books in circulation, even before discovering that Leitner had only applied his seal on some but not all of them (and that he had absolutely no involvement in their creation):

(MAG070) ARCHIVIST: […] It seems to support the theory that, whatever these books are, Leitner is not entirely responsible for them. […] Books. Again and again it always seems to come back to those books. There are other artefacts that hold sinister power, certainly, but none of them seem to be quite so prevalent or… insidious as those damn books. But why? I had always assumed that Leitner had created them somehow, leasing parts of his own damned soul to give them power, or… some similar nonsense. But no. I’ve heard enough now to be sure that these books existed long before he managed to hunt them down. Not all of them, though, it would seem.

And it’s true that we only had questions in that regard. We know that the books can be anachronistic:

(MAG080) LEITNER: An unexpurgated copy of Ruskin’s The Seven Lamps of Architecture, published in 1845. Of course, Ruskin didn’t even begin writing the book until 1846, and the text of this one varies markedly from the version that was distributed.

We know that some of the books are old, written in different languages, and that a few of them must have appeared fairly recently (A Guest For Mr. Spider, and the one from MAG125 which looked like a paperback). We know that a few can write themselves (the unnamed Book of the Dead) or have new content added to it (Mary Keay’s book in human skin). We know that they can bind monsters (Ex Altiora). We’d already had one mention of a book that just tagged along or perhaps showed up out of nowhere and tried to read its reader (MAG091, Mike Crew: “I spent some time with a small grey volume, I think it was in Cyrillic, that decided it was at home amongst my bookshelves. I couldn’t read it, of course, but… when it tried to read me back, I buried it on a lonely stretch of moorland.”). Leitner mentioned that in rare cases, they can host multiple powers (such as The Key of Solomon) – in most cases, they seem to be tied to only one. Some of them can apparently be destroyed (Gertrude and Leitner managed it in the tunnels), though some could just shift or resist (MAG080, Leitner: “Many of them wouldn’t have burned, and some even liked the flames. And those that did, I now believe, would have been released to take a different form.”), but Jon discovered recently that some can apparently lose their powers:

(MAG125, Terrance Simpson) All I could see for certain… was that she held a book in her hands. It was a paperback, old and unloved, with obvious signs of wear long before it found itself in this chaos. The cover and title were unrecognizable, now far too soaked in blood, but it was clear that at some point the woman holding it had torn it, clean in two down the spine, and now held half in each of what was left of her hands. Ross told me later that she’d gotten a good look at the pages, and that every single one of them was blank.

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: […] Another Leitner, obviously. Not one I can readily identify, though it sounds like it would now be… inert, anyway. Given the blank pages, I do wonder whether its destruction was a last-ditch effort to stop its effects, or the exact thing that released its power in such an… extreme way.

So where do they come from and/or how are they produced? Are they just… emanations, like the monsters? Are they purposefully created by avatars? Leitner told Jon that he had gathered 978 of those when his library was attacked; it’s… not that much – the Black Forest’s mausoleum could have contained more than that, and we even know that new books have appeared since then. … However, I do wonder if the books in the mausoleum weren’t rather a precursor/equivalent of… statements? I had already wondered whether “Johann von Württemberg” might be an ancient Archivist (especially after MAG053), and now that we’ve been told about the contents of the books…

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe ) […] [Albrecht] took the seat opposite me, and started to tell me… a story. And then another. And another. A stream of… strange tales began to pour out of him, and I just sat there, transfixed, [STATIC–], desperately wishing I had the strength of will to leave, but all I could do was listen. He told me of a seamstress, who laced her body with fine black thread; and when she pulled it all out in a single swift motion, her skin dropped away like a loose shift. He told me of a man so scared to die he spent a year weaving a rope blindfolded, so that he would not know the length, and could not foresee the moment it would tighten around his neck when he finally threw himself into the void. He told me of a fire that burns so hot and fierce, that to even know about it is enough to burn a man’s tongue from his head. He told me so many terrible things. [/STATIC] And at the end of it all, the only thing I could think to ask him was where he read them. My eyes darted to the books that surrounded us, but Albrecht laughed at this, and placed his hands across a spine that was simply labelled A Warning. For a moment, he looked as though he were about to wrench it from its place and hurl it into the fire. But it passed. He turned back to me. [STATIC–] “You do not understand,” he said to me in German. “I do not read the books. They read me.” [/STATIC]

… they were all stories. Like Jon himself is receiving stories through the statements… Could the Beholding folks be responsible for the books, binding a bit of other powers in them to spread them, ensuring a never-ending self-sustaining cycle of stories – people finding the books, getting terrorized by them, and the survivors having new stories to tell? What happened to the books that Jonah Magnus stole? Are they still somewhere in the Institute, did he destroy them, did he release them into circulation…?

- Even before that: when did Albrecht get his hands on the books? Had he stolen them back in 1816, and concealed that fact to Jonah in his letter? Or did he go back later? With or without Jonah? It is now… striking, that in MAG023, Albrecht was insisting on the fact that he missed his own library (MAG023: “And so began what was to be a lengthy sojourn near Schramberg, and truly have I never wished more keenly that I had been able to bring my library with me. I had but a few books with me and Wilhelm, despite his not-inconsiderable intelligence, had even fewer.”) when, oops, he got his hands on another’s in the end. The only thing he said was that he had them rebound one year prior to April 1831, and he had already been able to tell in 1816 that they were in a terrible state:

(MAG023, Albrecht von Closen) I walked cautiously closer, until my lantern illuminated it clearly. The walls were covered with bookshelves. Packed in with such a density that it was impossible to tell if there was a real wall behind them or if the books themselves formed the only bulwark against the soil. They were, unfortunately, terribly rotten. The centuries had not been kind to them, and as I tried to move one of them, I realised that the damp had, over time, caused them to merge into a single mass of paper and bookcloth. Predictable as this may have been, I still felt the most acute pang of loss. To see such a volume of knowledge, possibly unique in all the world, utterly destroyed, was incredibly painful to me. The actual shelves were formed of the same marble as the two blocks, and seemed to have fared better. As I looked at them, I noticed a small engraving, carved at regular intervals along the edge of each one. It was a small eye, open and staring. For some reason, it was only at that moment that I began to feel afraid. Of what, I couldn’t tell you, but those small eyes filled me with a dread that I have trouble describing to you now.

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) As he walked the shelves, stroking the spines of each book in turn, I started to ask him about his health, and explained why I was there, but he showed not the slightest sign that he was listening. “I had them rebound last year,” he said. “Damp can do terrible things to a book.”

- There were so many “WHAM” moments in that statement… the fact that it was another letter to Jonah! That it was once again about Albrecht von Closen! The fact that the uncanny atmosphere began even before Jonathan reached Albrecht’s house (because people were burning the tree)! The very casual mention that Carla had died and that there were now sons in the family, although they were explicitly childless and Jon hadn’t been able to trace the family line down back in MAG023! The fact that the spooky house gave me a Lonely/Beholding vibe somehow (rather than Beholding only), even before Albrecht showed up? And then, the… fact that nothing physical happened to Jonathan: but that he witnessed, had to hear and couldn’t really understand, though he was trying to work a way out. The resignation, in the fact that he was forced to hear Albrecht’s stories, and that Albrecht couldn’t stop them nor harm the books? All the mysteries as to what happened and why Jonah had apparently been involved? What was inside Albrecht’s corpse? (HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THANKS JONNY…) The attempt at returning the books, Albrecht’s sudden death, the reveal that Jonah had actually stolen the real books when they were rebound?

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) I do not know how he died. I saw nothing and no one with him, and his body seemed whole and undamaged. But I do have some idea as to why it happened. For as I filled those dead shelves with freshly bound volumes, I could not help but notice that every page was blank. I have since checked with Payne’s, who I believe to be your preferred bookbinders. And I know that the books poor Albrecht was returning to the grave were not the books that were taken. I hope they bring you much wisdom, Jonah, for the cost was dear enough.

(Roger Payne was a famous bookbinder from the 18th, already dead by then, so it was probably his shop. Still, another historical figure /o/) There were so many little things changing perspective, and it raised so many questions, aaaaah!! It was definitely a very strong episode…

I don’t know what to think of what happened to Albrecht; was he a failed Archivist? The fact that he almost threw one of the books to the fire but couldn’t, that he needed help to manage top ut them back, that stories were pouring out of him… Is that another red flag about what could ultimately happen to Jon? Or was it just a Beholding curse/influence, since he had been in close contact to the books? Or was it something that Albrecht had brought down on himself since the first time he had entered the mausoleum?

(Aza confirmed me that:

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) It was the face of Albrecht von Closen. In the light, his eyes met mine, and his mouth began to work furiously, repeating the same phrase [STATIC–] over and over, increasing in volume until he was screaming it into my face: “Leg sie alle zurück. Leg sie alle zurück.” [/STATIC] Put them back. Put them back.

=> can’t be about the children, because “sie alle” means “them all” and wouldn't be used for just two things, and the verb used conveys the sense of putting things lying down and wouldn't be used for people. That's assuming that Jonny knows that much German, though.)

Big Questions, too, about… the tree. What was the deal with that one?

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) […] as we got closer, I could see that it was… a single tree that was burning: a gnarled and ancient elm, that sat removed from the rest of the forest. A small crowd surrounded the spectacle. One man, who I took to be a groundskeeper, stood closer than the others, with a lit torch in his hand. […] I asked the man why they were burning the tree when the rain was coming down so heavily. Surely it could have waited for drier weather. The man simply shrugged. […] all that I could get from him was a sense of resignation, and the insistence that his master, who I took to be Albrecht, wanted the tree dead. I’m sure that he used that word, though. Not “burned”, not “removed”, or “destroyed”. Dead. I resolved to ask Albrecht about it when I saw him.

The only “main” tree we’ve got before was at Hill Top Road: is it the same kind of thing…? What did it do, here…? (Where spiders involved in the shadows, again.)

- I remember how quick Aza had been to jump on me after I had listened to MAG023, a few months ago, because there was a Big Fandom Joke about the easter egg of the “Schwarzwald statement” directly following Martin Blackwood’s, AND NOW IT HAS COME BACK TO HAUNT US since!! Surprise surprise!! Fifteen years after his letter to Jonah from MAG023 (March 31st 1816), Albrecht, who had mentioned never managing to have children with his wife… suddenly had sons as of November 21st, 1831:

(MAG023, Albrecht von Closen) myself and Clara [sic] have since made every effort to provide [our nephew Wilhelm] with guidance and such affection as he may have lost. This felt especially keen as we have ourselves been unable to conceive a child, and so we felt it our duty to teach Wilhelm what we would have impressed upon a son of our own.

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) As I’m sure you’re aware, Albrecht’s wife Carla was taken by a fever some years ago, and his sons were away at school; so it was the housekeeper who greeted me when I arrived.

Back in MAG023, Jon had managed to track down Wilhelm’s genealogy, to discover that some of his descendants might have been Mary and Gerry Keay (which Gerry confirmed in MAG111), but he had found nothing about Albrecht:

(MAG023) ARCHIVIST: […] I did try to find out what happened to Albrecht von Closen and his book, but I can find no mention of him in any volume of history nor anywhere online. Perhaps I might find out more if I spent months sifting through the historical statements in the Archives’ back rooms, but I simply don’t have time to indulge my own curiosity like that.

(ISN’T IT CUTE HOW BEHOLDING IS SHOWING UP TWO YEARS LATE WITH ANOTHER VON CLOSEN STATEMENT WHEN JON FINALLY HAS TIME TO INDULGE HIS OWN CURIOSITY.......) So, Albrecht managed to get descendants of his own, after his adventure in the Black Forest. We know nothing about them, just that they happened, so there might be another branch of the Von Closen somewhere, with perhaps a change of name at some point. As @justasmalltownai highlighted, there is an old (historical and literary) tradition of naming abandoned/magic children after the place they were found, which would be “Schwartzwald” for them… Which…………………. indeed……………. puts Martin Blackwood to mind………… … On a meta level, Jonny Sims not above giving reasons to yell at him with random things, either. Remember how, in MAG017, Jon was reading about how someone should have had trouble with the police when he was interrupted by Elias “I Have Killed And Will Kill Again And Will Be Sent To Prison For This” Bouchard of all people?

(MAG017) ARCHIVIST: […] He was always very careful to stop before he did anything that might get the police involved, and I guess there was enough leftover affection from a childhood spent together that I never really thought about reporting him. It wa– [DOOR OPENING] ARCHIVIST: Oh, erm, hello Elias. ELIAS: Do you have a moment?

(Yes, that one is a very “jONNY” scene in retrospect. And trousersless!Martin interrupted Albrecht’s statement in the same fashion, when Albrecht was getting ready to enter the crypt.)

On the one hand, Gerry asserted that blood ties don’t matter for the Entities – and, indeed, it sounds… more in synch with the series to think that choices and personality are the things that determine you(r fate). But on the other hand: it’s still so curious that Gerry was so deeply rooted into Beholding powers, when Wilhelm von Closen had been so close to the Beholding mausoleum?

(MAG012, Lesere Saraki) […] watching [Gerard], standing and walking despite the burns covering eighty percent of his body, despite the sheer quantity of painkillers we had given him… he just made me very afraid. […] I followed him, asked what he was doing. I got no answer, but he seemed to know the code to the door immediately and strode right in, scanning the shelves for something. He saw what he was after and picked up a small object wrapped in paper and plastic. I recognised it immediately as a sterile scalpel.

(Gerry even technically demonstrated powers that were… very close to Jon’s? His body was still able to function when it shouldn’t have been able to; he just knew things; he was able to tell that MAG048’s statement-giver had been “marked” just by staring at her…)

So. While we were all focusing on the potential of Martin Lukas, was it actually Martin von Closen (/whatever Albrecht’s sons were: monsters stolen from the crypt? Emanations from the books? Non-spooky babies who got contaminated by the books? The Beholding equivalent of whatever Agnès was for the Desolation?) all along, or The Unholy Encounter Of The Two.

(Or as usual: is Martin still… absolutely normal, without any spooky roots nor anything.)

- Biggest initial shock was to hear Jon… revealing that he was Genre Savvy.

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: [SHARP INHALE, FAST] Statement of doctor Jonathan Fanshawe, regarding the months leading up to the death and autopsy of Albrecht Von Closen. […] Disconcerting to find my namesake in a statement. Especially one connected so directly to the Institute. […] Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man. … Exactly two hundred years, in fact. Don’t think that little detail has evaded me.

(Jon, stop staring at the camera/tape recorder, I feel called out.) He spotted the name (though there have been a lot of variations around “John” in all the names involved in all the statements), he revealed that he’s aware that is the 200th anniversary, and that something bad is likely coming. That’s a lot from him!

- Amazingly, we’ve already learned where Jon was hurt and what with!

(MAG127) BASIRA: But she did want me to… apologise. ARCHIVIST: Oh. BASIRA: From her. For… the shoulder. ARCHIVIST: Oh. It, it’s fine; scalpel wounds… they heal quickly. BASIRA: Hm. ARCHIVIST: Too quickly, really. BASIRA: Already? ARCHIVIST: Just another scar for the collection! BASIRA: Hm.

Jon’s self-deprecative dry humour makes me laugh and cry at the same time, and ha, in the list of things he’s savvy about: the fact that he’s collecting them indeed. (Now, to know whether that serves a grand purpose…)

- I LOVE THAT OVERALL, JON IS TRYING…………..

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] I’m sorry Basira, I–I will try to keep anything I learn about you to myself. My priorities haven’t changed; I hope you can believe that. [SIGHS] I’m still on your side. You can trust me.

And I perfectly understand that Basira might want to stay cautious: of course, a liar would lie about that, too ;; And Jon, after all, is trying a new approach – laying it all down in the open, instead of hiding himself. It’s good, but it can understandably raise suspicions for Basira ;;

- The trend of Jon sounding So Thirsty about getting anything about Martin, any news about Martin, is still going strong:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] I’m still on your side. You can trust me. BASIRA: [EXHALES] … Yeah. People keep saying that. ARCHIVIST: Do they? … W–w–who else– Did Martin say something?

I KNOW THAT HE HAS LEGITIMATE REASONS TO BE WORRIED… but w o w Jon, you’re sounding more and more desperate. (I do understand!! Last original assistant alive, Martin being in a bad place since he’s working with Peter and all… But the sheer contrast with season 1 is just astounding, and I’m still not getting used to it. I’m used to Martin gratuitously thinking about Jon; not to Jon… spontaneously thinking about Martin, as one of his concerns.)

- Jon’s life sounds like a succession of… doors? It’s definitely his biggest recurring motif. Mr. Spider’s door, that he never knocked on. “Michael”-then-“Helen”’s door: the one through which Helen disappeared right in front of him (MAG047), the one he used to flee from Not!Sasha (MAG079), the one he should have opened to die and the one that ultimately saved him from Nikola (MAG101), the one that had been haunting his dreams:

(MAG120) ELIAS: […] There is a door in front of him. A yellow door. He knows the dream it used to lead to; he knows it well. But that’s not where it leads anymore. He does not know what is behind it anymore, and he is deathly afraid of finding out. The Archivist turns away.

And now, the image of the “door” he used to describe the power that has been the most prevalent since he woke up:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: I’m not “snooping”, I’m not looking. That’s not… how this works. BASIRA: Explain it, then. ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not sure I can. BASIRA: Humour me. ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] It’s… hard. It’s like there’s a–a–a door, in my mind. And behind it, is… i–is the entire ocean. Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it. I, I, I can keep it closed… but sometimes, when I’m around p–people, or–or places, or… ideas, a drop or two will push through the cracks, at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something. BASIRA: … What happens, if you open the door? [PAUSE] ARCHIVIST: I drown.

Jon ;; (That mental picture… was really striking, and now, we know what could ultimately happen, what will probably happen…)

- Same as last episode: Jon’s powers, when they direct him towards statements… make him dig into the past? Is it a way to keep him detached from the present, as time continues to pass and as Jon knows that something is coming?

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man. … Exactly two hundred years, in fact. Don’t think that little detail has evaded me. I don’t know the precise date the Institute was founded, but I do know that it was in 1818. … Something’s coming. I know it is. … But I just don’t know what I need to do. […] BASIRA: And what was that you were doing yesterday? ARCHIVIST: … When…? BASIRA: You were sat on the floor for like four hours. ARCHIVIST: … Oh! Er, n–n–no, I was, er, I was… listening. Y’know, it’s, trying to see if any of the statements… called to me. BASIRA: And? ARCHIVIST: [FLIPS PAPER] BASIRA: Brilliant.

(yfhudscjnfed I love getting something about how Jon is perceived from the outside, but at the same time? At the same time, isn’t it a fairly standard thing to sit or lay on the floor while you’re waiting for something or inspiration to strike, Basira, why do you depict it as odd.) (Does it mean that Basira regularly went to take a peak during these four hours, though.)

Or is Beholding trying to give Jon a clue to assert the situation, to get the bigger picture and to understand what he could do (whether it’s to… contribute to The Watcher’s Crown or to sabotage it)? Jon once again acknowledged that he is lacking direction:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] Something’s coming. I know it is. … But I just don’t know what I need to do. […] [SIGHS] So what do we do now…? BASIRA: You tell me. Just don’t expect much on trust these days. ARCHIVIST: … Yes, I… I suppose that’s fair. [CLICK.]

And ;; I guess that either he’s still waiting for spooky insights directing him towards some statements, either he’ll have to wait for something else (the tapes Elias mentioned? Getting a hold on Martin again? Waiting for Peter Lukas to reveal himself? Waiting to get a visitor?), either he’ll have to get a bit more creative (leaving the Institute again to try to talk with other avatars? Tracking Adelard down, since Jon knows that he knew Gertrude and worked with her a bit, having even moved out the explosives for her?).

- I’m sad but also relieved for Melanie… Even though we’re not hearing her, it seems like she’s getting back some of her feelings, some of her individuality; she’s not a ball of nerves and instinct anymore? It sounds like she’s having a rough time but… also like she’s recovering a bit? ;;

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: How’s Melanie? BASIRA: How do you think? ARCHIVIST: I, er, I should probably… talk to h– BASIRA: You should probably stay as far away as possible. She doesn’t want to see you. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–o–of course. Er, she has… […] Do–do you think it worked? Is she… BASIRA: I don’t know. She seems more… coherent, I guess. And you did get an apology. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. BASIRA: She said she can cry now, which is, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: Progress, I think? ARCHIVIST: Uh… BASIRA: She’s still angry but, she hasn’t attacked anyone. Not even sure she has it in her anymore. ARCHIVIST: Well that’s, that’s good! BASIRA: Hm.

(It’s also good that Jon quickly accepted that if Melanie doesn’t want to see him, it means he won’t try to see her? He’s trying so hard to fix things, but also to manoeuvre without hurting others, and gosh ;;) (… Now that Melanie is out of her downwards spiral, maybe Jon will switch his focus to getting Martin back?)

- I’m a bit torn about Martin’s mother: on the one hand, I’m obviously “AOUCH???” and almost offended because??? Can we give Martin a break p l e a s e??? He had learned about Sasha’s death in April 2017 (and also that, surprise! He was bound forever to the Archives.), Tim died and Jon fell into a coma in August, his mom died around October, that’s a rough six months??? On the other hand, that’s still textbook fridging, and it felt a bit dry to me (even for the series!) given that… we only knew about her through indirect mentions and violations of privacy: Jon digging through Martin’s stuff to discover the letter to his mother, and Elias using his powers on Martin in MAG118. The only time Martin himself mentioned her was to contextualize why he had lied on his application:

(MAG042) ARCHIVIST: […] there is an unfinished letter, addressed to his mother in Devon, in which he mentions that he is worried about “the others finding out I’ve been lying”. It may be nothing, some… inconsequential deception or other – after all, it is ostensibly written to his mother – but if it was actually to be sent to someone else… I will keep my eye on Martin.

(MAG056) MARTIN: I don’t have a Master’s in parapsychology, I don’t even have a degree. When I was 17, my mom, she… had… she had some problems, and I ended up dropping out of school, t– trying to support us.

The fact that he had to take care of his mother shaped Martin’s whole life; it contributed to leading him to the Institute, it probably prevented him from socializing much, it’s probably why he doesn’t live very well (Stockwell isn’t the fanciest of neighbourhoods), since he had to pay for her care and then carehome. Yet, even with Elias, Martin avoided to mention his relationship with her and, obviously, we never heard her (we don’t even know what illness she was afflicted with!). She was distant in all senses (geographically, communication-wise, information-wise). The thing I mostly hope for (and which would feel a bit better for me?) would be to finally get Martin… talking about his relationship with her?, instead of having people doing that in his stead. It was obviously a sore spot already; after MAG118, it… was probably worse (Elias wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t supposed to hurt on the long run and keep Martin in check.) I don’t know if we’ll have the time for characters to even consider that they can afford to take care of themselves and treat themselves a bit by trying to unpack their issues, though. But I’d really love to finally hear Martin talk about his mother, and not other characters describing their relationship from the outside? (I want to think she died of natural causes, since she was sick for a long time, but obviously, can’t help but wonder if Lonely fuckedupness didn’t contribute somehow, since Peter wanted Martin. Though I doubt it for meta-reasons, since killing/hurting someone just to get a reaction out of one of the main characters, without hearing the victim’s own feelings about it, wouldn’t feel like the series, I think?)

- What happened to Martin’s mother… also explains why Basira was a bit defensive of him back in MAG123:

(MAG123) BASIRA: Yeah, he comes and goes. He’s busy. Well, he seems it. ARCHIVIST: Working for Peter Lukas. BASIRA: Don’t be too hard on him, Jon. Your, er… “situation”, it hit him. Hard. ARCHIVIST: [LONG EXHALES] Yes. Well, I’m sure there are better ways to deal with it than getting cosy with Elias’s successor. Who I’ve yet to meet, by the way.

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] W–w–who else– Did Martin say something? BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done. ARCHIVIST: So–sorry, you said… What happened with his mother? BASIRA: Oh, yeah. She died. About two months– ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: –after you, er… … Martin was… … He tried to stay strong. Keep it together but, that sort of thing… ARCHIVIST: [SIGHS] BASIRA: [SIGHS] Then those Flesh things busted in, and well, here we are! ARCHIVIST: … God. BASIRA: He didn’t tell you? ARCHIVIST: No… BASIRA: Hm. Guess you don’t know everything, then. ARCHIVIST: No, I, I–I guess not.

(I wonder if Basira’s mention that Martin “just… disappears” is literal, or if she means that he just leaves? We heard him walk away, back in MAG125 with Jon, but… Peter just appears Like That, so…)

;; Slowly, we’re also filling in the gap between MAG120 and MAG121 a bit – at the same time as Jon does. Tim died, Jon went into his “coma”; Elias was arrested, Peter became Head of the Institute; two months after, Martin’s mother died; two months after, The Flesh attacked (Basira told Jon it happened “About two months ago” in MAG123); two months after, Jon woke up. We’re still not sure when the season 4 trailer happened exactly – was it before or after The Flesh? (Martin sounded at his end, back then, so I’d like to think right after but the other option is not impossible either…).

- GODS, I LOVE BASIRA… She’s Judging and assessing, not talking a lot with Jon (so many non-committal “Hm.”), but also frankly expressing her disapproval or that she thinks Jon is crossing lines; not closing communication but also highlighting the limits… And what a LEGEND, honestly. The fact that she didn’t even threaten to leave but just started to leave as soon as Elias began to Act All Elias. Not taking any of his bullshit (SHE GOT HIS POSH MOUTH TO SAY “BULLSHIT” =D) redjrefdujire,d. I’m love her. And I’m also so worried for her because Elias talking to you means Problems in general.

- Squinting at how Elias “I Can Complain About How ‘Oh, good lord, don’t be so dramatic, Jon!’ Because I’m An S-Class Dramatist Myself Have You Heard MAG092 And MAG120 And My Perfect Sense Of Timing” Bouchard greeted Basira with that… “Detective”?

(MAG127) ELIAS: … Good evening. Detective. [STEPS COMING CLOSER] BASIRA: I’m not a detective. ELIAS: Of course.

Elias rarely says seemingly gratuitous things if it’s not actually meant to hurt (even a few months later), or to mock, or to manipulate, so what’s the deal there. It could be a nod to Daisy (since she was the detective), or… a kind of ~I know what you’ve been doing~, if Basira has been researching on some delicate matters (that she still wouldn’t have shared with Jon)? I also wonder if it’s not… once again, Elias just quoting what other people said when he wasn’t there and shouldn’t have known, since Georgie had also called Basira a “detective” in MAG122 (right before they discovered that Jon had woken up), and Basira hadn’t reacted back then:

(MAG122) BASIRA: Alright. And you don’t know why this guy would have left a tape recorder? GEORGIE: You’re the detective. BASIRA: And you’re sure it was him who left it?

Reminder: Elias Does That and has a sucky sense of humour. He was already doing it back in season 1 (MAG039, Jon: “I can’t really stand up yet. I need you to describe what’s going on. For the record.” / Elias, in another place, right after: “You [Sasha] did bring a tape recorder. I just thought Jon would appreciate as many supplementary recordings as possible. For the record.”). We know that Basira wasn’t against presenting herself as an “investigator” for fun:

(MAG106) BASIRA: I should probably go check in with Martin. Y’know, if he’s in for drinks. MELANIE: So you can double-check your gossip~? BASIRA: I don’t gossip! I have the mind of an investigator.

… but that’s not the term that Elias used. Sooo… why the “Detective”, indeed. It doesn’t sound like a Beholding title (a bit too police-oriented) compared to “Watcher” or “Archivist” (Leitner had also called Jon “the observer”)…

- Elias is having it rough in prison, it’s a treat to hear <333 Kudos to Ben for the… raspier, tighter, incommodious? voice that deeeefinitely conveyed that Elias is not sitting on his throne anymore. … Actually, some of it reminded me a bit of Jon going through statements-withdrawal in MAG107, so I wonder if Elias isn’t having a personal form of withdrawal somehow, too, by being far from the Institute for such an extended period of time?

I’m… a bit lost as to why he even tried to pretend that he wasn’t spying on Basira&co in the first place, only to admit that he knew things when Basira told him off?

(MAG127) ELIAS: Er, I’ve found one of these in my cell? It, it wasn’t recording, but… I assume this means he’s awake. BASIRA: … ELIAS: … Basira? BASIRA: Can we cut the bullshit? ELIAS: What “bullshit” might that be? BASIRA: The part where you pretend you don’t spend your whole time watching us. ELIAS: … Sometimes I’m eating. BASIRA: You know he’s back. You’ve seen him. ELIAS: Fine! Yes.

Why even bother? He had implied to Martin that the distance wouldn’t prevent him from spying on them (MAG120: “Best of luck, Martin. Ah, let the others know I shall be thinking of them. […] G–goodbye, Martin. Be seeing you.”) and his comments to Basira about “trust” are a clear reference to her discussion with Jon earlier in the episode:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: […] I’m still on your side. You can trust me. BASIRA: [EXHALES] … Yeah. People keep saying that. […] Just don’t expect much on trust these days. ARCHIVIST: … Yes, I… I suppose that’s fair.

(MAG127) BASIRA: Right. So, what? You figured you’d record us for him? Sow some distrust from afar? ELIAS: Our… arrangement with the Inspector notwithstanding, I… rather feel that right now all the distrust is very much your own.

So nop, he’s still a pesky misery-sucking voyeuristic mosquito even from further distance and even though Peter/the Lonely has taken over the Institute – he’s still able to spy on them.

One thing I wondered was whether he wasn’t having trouble watching Jon, with his new status and all, hence the pretending that he had guessed that Jon was awake through deduction and not just… sheer observation; but he did admit that he knew and had indeed seen him when Basira pushed it. So!! That actually clears something up for me: Elias might be using the “I assume(d)” expression as a loophole when he’s lying-without-personally-feeling-that-he’s-lying (MAG040, Elias: “so, I assumed [Gertrude] was dead and left the investigation to the police, for all that good it did me.”). That counts as lying for me, but maybe not for him, apparently :w

Plus, Elias’s reasoning about the tape recorders seem to follow Jon’s, a bit in the same fashion (possibly overheard him, and is using his arguments?):

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: […] There was a tape recorder waiting for me when I sat down. […] I’ve decided to let the tapes run. They’ve… proved useful before, so…

(MAG127) ELIAS: […] And as to whether he will ever hear this, maybe he’ll get the tapes. Maybe he won’t. But the recordings have helped so far, so…

Not the exact same phrasing for once, but roughly the same intention, except for one thing: “THE RECORDINGS HAVE HELPED” WHOM/WHAT, ELIAS. (I’m really not sure he meant “they helped Jon in the past” here.)

- In the same fashion: I wonder whether he can see what Martin is currently doing, or if Peter’s influence prevents him from accessing him, since they’re working closely together? What does Elias think of Martin working directly under Peter, and “isolating” himself? You’d think that even if Elias only felt mostly disgust towards Martin, cheating on Beholding would be a big enough offender for him to snap about that…?

FUN THING: Elias… still has NEVER EVER. MENTIONED. EVEN. ONCE. “PETER LUKAS”.

He never acknowledged that Peter had taken over the Institute. He didn’t even mention that Peter might be supposed to protect the Archives team? If Peter is not great with computers and with administration work with “too many variables” (from a sea captain??? Really??), nor is he supposed to protect the Archives, nor does he share Elias’s priority of setting off the Watcher's Crown (as Peter is focusing on Adelard’s investigations instead)… why was Peter chosen as an interim director? What was he supposed to do, in Elias’s mind? I’m going back to this, once again: does Elias even know that Peter has taken over the Institute? And/or does “Peter” truly exist as a person/avatar/monster? Jon had immediately thought about the possibility that he wasn’t “real”:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Sorry, you haven’t– BASIRA: Nop. Never seen him. As far as I can tell, Martin’s the only one who has. ARCHIVIST: … right. A–and you’re sure he’s… real? BASIRA: We get emails from him. Memos. […] ARCHIVIST: But i–if you’ve never…seen him, I mean…

And it’s true that Peter wasn’t exactly interacting with his surroundings in past appearances: he was isolated when drinking his coffee in MAG033 and then… didn’t actually command The Tundra (Carlita only spotted him when they left the boat at night). In-series, he only appeared to people when they were alone (MAG100 for Bryan; MAG108, MAG120, MAG126 for Martin). The only cases in which there were multiple people involved around him were in MAG066, when he and Salesa freed Vincent Yang from the box (… and Peter was implied to have betted on Vincent having died in said box), and in MAG101, when Michael recounted that Michael Shelley and Gertrude had met with Peter to get transportation to the Great Twisting. MAG126 implied that Martin might have been the one writing Peter’s emails (since Peter ~can’t stand computers~): is that because Peter can barely interact with the world around him / is only perceptible to people who have been marked by the Lonely? Or is that part of the plan to isolate Martin further – by making everyone think that Martin is actually “Peter Lukas” and deceiving everyone?

Alternatively: Elias is not mentioning Peter on purpose, knows in excruciating detail what is happening around Peter, and, whatever is currently happening, they’re in on it together, and it really doesn’t bode well for Martin even if the New Threat is actually a thing. ;;

- Biggest plot-twist, for me, was to learn that Elias doesn’t want Jon to see him and has taken extra measures to ensure that they wouldn’t meet. Basira had already mentioned that Elias had made a deal with the police (MAG122: “A bunch of Section’d officers took him in. He made some sort of deal, I think. But… he’s not getting out anytime soon.”) and we still don’t know the details of that one, though Elias just mentioned his “cooperation” (is it just behaving without making people’s lives hell in the prison? Or is it actively helping Section 31’d officers? I’m guessing that… selective omniscient powers might be relevant to their interests?)

Elias not wanting Jon to see him leads me to wonder about two things: what is Elias waiting for – he described Jon as being in transition, so when and how is Jon supposed to reach the next stage (AND HOW CAN HE AVOID IT)? And why does Elias want to avoid being in Jon’s presence? Because Jon would punch him in the face? (Definitely, but there is a long queue :w) Because Jon would most definitely do the exact contrary of what Elias seems to be aiming for? (Nothing new in that regard :w) Orrr… because Elias thinks that Jon has reached a stage where Jon’s compulsion might work on him?

Anyway: there is something definitely funny in the way that… for both Martin and Elias, Jon is a ~*HIM*~-who-doesn’t-need-to-be-named:

(MAG126) MARTIN: […] It’s because he’s back, isn’t it. [SIGHS] He’s back, so now you’re going to be… around, again. Listening in. Mff. You missed him, didn’t you. … Yeah. … [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] Yeah, me too. […] PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us. MARTIN: If I keep avoiding him, people will get suspicious. […] You said he’d probably never wake up. […] When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission.

(MAG127) ELIAS: […] It, it wasn’t recording, but… I assume this means he’s awake. […] BASIRA: You know he’s back. You’ve seen him. […] You figured you’d record us for him? […] Fine. So you won’t see him, but you’re happy for him to hear our conversations. ELIAS: He can listen all he wants, but he’s at a very delicate stage right now, and I… fear my presence would be a… a distraction. I’ve made it clear my cooperation’s contingent on his not seeing me, and my terms have been accepted thus far.

(Only moment Elias said Jon’s name was to diss him: “Then again: you are beset by enemies on all sides, Basira. And unless you expect Jon to record them into submission […]”. So Jon only has a name when it’s about trashing him and the fact he’s a nerd who can’t win in a fight. Elias, please.)

- By the way! The many shackle sounds gave us an indication: Elias must have the habit of using a loooot of hand gestures for emphasis, since it was clicking all the time when he was talking!

- Not the first time that Elias has acknowledged the tape recorders (MAG098: Melanie: “… Did…? Did you turn that on?” / Elias: “Hmm? Oh. You get used to it.”) or used them as a means of communication between him and Jon (he addressed Jon directly when recording in MAG092 and MAG120), but first time that he’s been directly asked about what he knows about them!

(MAG127) ELIAS: […] And as to whether he will ever hear this, maybe he’ll get the tapes. Maybe he won’t. But the recordings have helped so far, so… BASIRA: … Do you know what they are? ELIAS: What a question.

WHICH TECHNICALLY MEANS SHIT, THANK YOU E-LIE-AS. Could mean that He Knows Exactly What They Are And How They Operate; could mean that he has a vague idea; could mean that he has absolutely no idea and is bullshitting his way out of the question. Eff you, grinning man. (Sidenote: Ben’s delivery on that last line was so satisfying somehow??)

- “Sometimes I’m eating.” … Yyyyyeah but, Elias. Do you sleep? Jury’s out on the question. Relatedly: I wonder if Jon is wishing he didn’t need to sleep, but at the same time… he hasn’t mentioned sleeping since season 4 started, and we still don’t know if he’s still having The Dreams. When Basira listed off the overview of Jon’s powers, it would have been the perfect moment to try to sort out what’s up with those:

(MAG127) BASIRA: … So. You can’t be killed by a collapsing building. Major injuries scar up fast. You can force the truth out of people and knowledge pops into your head whenever you need it. ARCHIVIST: Yes. I, I think that about, that about covers it.

But Jon didn’t add anything. I have no inkling of what is going on in Jon’s head: was he actually less aware of the true nature of his dreams than we had accounted for at the end of season 3 (MAG113: “I’m not too concerned, to be honest, my dreams are, uh… Well, let’s just say I don’t think they’re going to be letting anyone else in… any time soon.”)? Was he made to forget about the content of his dreams when he woke up from his coma, in the same way that he forgot the end of the Unknowing? Is he hiding that information from Basira because he’s trying to make her trust him again, and feels like it could be a deal-breaker? (He’s making efforts to be transparent with her, though… but is he exhaustive in that transparency? He, of all people, should know that hiding things has proven to be a wrong course of action, and so far in season 4 he has been precisely sharing and trying to talk to people, though…).

I guess that we’ll need to wait for a push in order to find out what Jon knows/remembers about his dreams: whether an old statement-giver coming back, whether a new person coming to give a live statement (what will Jon do in such a situation?), whether… MAG120’s tape resurfacing, which could be soon.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: […] There was a tape recorder waiting for me when I sat down. They’re not even hiding it anymore. There weren’t any tapes from when I was… away – I checked. Whatever they are, they are here for me.

(MAG127) ELIAS: Er, I’ve found one of these in my cell? It, it wasn’t recording, but… I assume this means he’s awake. […] And as to whether he will ever hear this, maybe he’ll get the tapes. Maybe he won’t. But the recordings have helped so far, so…

^He’s probably referring to the time he was comatose but, technically, Jon went “away” at the end of MAG117, so that could include the tapes of MAG118 and MAG120. Both involving Elias. Elias clearly said “the tapes”, plural, in MAG127, so maybe getting that tape recorder will unlock the missing ones, which could just… reappear? No idea.

- Oh My Gods, Elias:

(MAG127) BASIRA: … So why am I here? What do you want that’s so important you needed to tell me to my face? ELIAS: I believe you’ve recently lost Melanie. BASIRA: … We saved Melanie. ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender…

Melanie, from off-screen: STOP TELLING PEOPLE I’M DEAD. (That was so mean and gratuitous and savage, ELIAS???)

There is something absolutely disgusting in the way Elias managed to turn one of the only good things that have happened recently (they managed to remove the bullet from Melanie! She’s a bit more of herself again! She’s getting emotions back!) into… a loss. Was it because she was infected by The Slaughter that Elias wanted to hire her in MAG084? We know from MAG106 that the fact that she didn’t have many people around her helped:

(MAG106) MELANIE: Threaten then. I’ve got nothing. ELIAS: That’s… almost true. Your life is indeed shockingly absent of any meaningful connections. That’s actually one of the reasons I chose you for this job. [PAUSE] Your father was your last real anchor, wasn’t he? [STATIC BEGINS.]

But it was “one of the reasons” (potential others being: Melanie listing how she’s reached the end of her options in MAG084); did Elias already know about the Slaughter-infected wound?

… ;; I REALLY don’t like that Elias is ~offering his help~ for the Archives now that this part is getting better. What is the trick. How is he planning to get some power back through the option he’s ~generously~ mentioning to Basira.

(MAG127) ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender… I would have thought you would want all the help you could get, or… have you forgotten what happened last time you lay your guard down? BASIRA: … We’ll work it out. ELIAS: Possibly. Then again: you are beset by enemies on all sides, Basira. And unless you expect Jon to record them into submission, it would seem you’re in rather dire need of another option. BASIRA: … And you just happen to have one. ELIAS: I might have an idea, yes. BASIRA: And what does it cost? ELIAS: Just some of your time, Basira. Just your time. BASIRA: … [SIGHS] Okay. Let’s hear it.

(Gods!!! I hate it!! I love how he’s good at what he’s doing!! Hitting where it hurts – that “last time you lay your guard down” might be about The Flesh attack? And as usual, he sounds totally rational, getting you when you’re in a weak spot, when you’d need help!! There are obvious parallels with the way Peter handled Martin in the meantime: both playing on the way Basira&Martin feel responsible for the others’ safety, both being ~logical~ and insisting that their deal is mostly in your interest…)

What is the triiiiiiiiiick, WHAT IS THAT INSISTENCE ABOUT “TIME”………..

1°) I really hope that whatever he told Basira, Basira won’t play along with his game. The tape recorder cut at this point; Jon won’t know about Elias’s offer if Basira doesn’t tell him. I really hope that she’s not planning dissimulation – Martin is already doing that and it… doesn’t sound good already. If they scatter, if they hide and keep things from each other, they can be sure that Elias will get some power back this way……………

2°) Regarding the ~cliffhanger~ of Elias having a suggestion to make regarding the Archives team’s new “Defender”, there are many options and, even amongst characters we have already met, they’re all interesting.

Daisy? Sounds the most logical, since we can assume (from a narrative standpoint) that she’s not totally dead + Elias mistakenly called Basira “detective” and called her in – she would be the one who would agree to do anything to get Daisy back. (Though… anyway, Elias couldn’t have called anyone else: Melanie would have skinned him anyway, Martin is off, and Elias doesn’t want Jon to see him.) Is the mention that Basira would only have to give “time” because she would be supposed to take her place inside of the coffin…? (Past victims seem to just disappear inside of it, though.)

Simon Fairchild? Jon said that he didn’t want to meet him a few episodes ago (MAG124: “Fairchild seems to travel far and wide for his victims, with no motivation other than… variety. I do not think I ever wish to meet him.”), would be Very Elias to just throw the old man at Jon as a result.

The Section’d officer who arrested Elias / the Legend who punched Elias? He sounded like an awful guy but HEY!!! He punched Elias. Melanie would love to hear about how it felt, and she needs some cheering up. And I wouldn’t put it past Elias to rec the guy who punched him.

JUDE PERRY? Would be amazingly awful for Jon and also worst choice ever, which is why Elias could go for that one.

Julia&Trevor, having managed to come back from the US? Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t dream of Trevor hunting in the Archives. (Okay, maybe I just want to hear Julia again because nnggg. Maybe.) (Also!! They burned down Ivy Meadows (and Melanie’s father), so if anyone should get to meet them, it’s Melanie.)

Spider-people and/or Annabelle? Can’t say for sure, but I feel like whatever the spiders are doing, they’re enjoying their lurking in the shadows for now (and given that they sent Oliver to wake up Jon, they seem to avoid direct interactions with him).

Mikaele Salesa? He had contacts with the Institute, knew Gertrude a bit, and we only know that he disappeared(status is unknown, “he hasn’t been seen for almost two years now” in MAG045, which took place in September 2016). Plus, Salesa knew Peter Lukas…

Breekon or Hope, depending on which of them survived Daisy’s wrath? I really don’t think so (if anything… the surviving one might be a threat for the Archives), but their fake accent would drive Jon CRAZY so fast, probably, and I’d be here for this.

Sadly, if Jon’s dreams from MAG120 are any indication, he’s presumably dead, but I can’t help but think about Mike Crew for the Hilarity. I mean! He wrecked Jon (a bit) and:

(MAG091) MIKE: You’re sure I can’t get you a cup of tea? ARCHIVIST: Uh, it–it’s fine, really. MIKE: Okay. You just seem a bit… jumpy, is all. […] ARCHIVIST: You… There was, there was a book? Er, two of them, at least. Er… Ex Altiora, The Boneturner’s Tale. You, uh… I think you threw a guy off a skyscraper in Paris. MIKE: Hmm. Last chance for that cup of tea. ARCHIVIST: I… [STATIC] Where did you get that scar? MIKE: [LONG SIGH AS THE SOUND OF RUSHING AIR RISES] And I was trying so hard to be polite. […] We have a lot in common, really. After all, what, what good’s the height, the terrifying draw of gravity, unless you, unless you really know the scale of what you’re facing?

He said they Vast and Beholding had “lot in common”! He makes tea!! (Wrong person, but still. He likes to make and offer tea. A spot was left… vacant, for that role.)

tl:dr BEHOLDING-STATEMENT YIIISSS, and I’m so glad and mad to have heard Elias again, already =DD

We already have MAG128’s title soooo… personal speculation would be about Breekon &/or Hope, maybe the coffin already? And/or a Buried statement? Regarding the title’s double-meaning (/if taken literally): Sounds Like A Big Lie anyway :|

#at least we got ONE jonathan with self-preservation skills?#the magnus archives #tma liveblog #mag127 #tma season 4 #tma spoilers/

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bob-giovanni · 7 years ago

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I’ll Cover You - Part 2

Characters: Simon X OFC

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Simon and Emily meet up for coffee.

The next morning when Simon’s alarm went off, he groaned as he reached over to shut it off. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a minute before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. He yawned and stretched before finally standing from the bed and trudging to the bathroom. As he was brushing his teeth, Simon heard his phone ding, letting him know he had a text message. Simon finished up and walked to his nightstand, grabbing his phone and tapping the screen.

Unknown: Good morning, Simon! It’s Emily. Just wanted to make sure we’re still on for coffee this morning.

“Fuck.” Simon had forgotten that he was supposed to meet Emily. He looked at the time. 9:30AM. He said he was going to meet her at 10AM. He was probably going to be late. He figured he’d be courteous and let her know.

Simon: Good morning. Yes, I will be there. I may be a few minutes late though.

Unknown: No worries! See you soon!

My god, she seemed way too cheerful for this time of day. Simon tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and went to his closet. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Once he was dressed he slipped on his boots and grabbed his car keys. He sat in his car for a moment trying to remember where he was meeting Emily. “Cafe on Mayflower.” He finally mumbled to himself. He pulled out of the driveway and headed east. Traffic in that area this time of the morning was horrid. Luckily where he was going was on a side street and was usually clear, but getting to the side street was the issue. When he finally pulled into a parking spot a few stores down from the cafe it was 10:15AM.

When he entered the cafe, Simon looked around for a moment before spotting Emily at a table towards the back. She smiled and waved at Simon. He smiled softly and nodded as he made his way over to her. He pulled out his chair and sat across from her. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was crazy.” Emily laughed softly. “Don’t worry about it. I just got here a few minutes ago myself.” Just then a waitress walked over to their table and set down a mug in front of Emily. “Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?” Simon nodded. “Yeah, coffee with soy milk, please.” The waitress nodded and went back behind the counter.

Emily made a surprised sound. “I didn’t peg you as a guy that took soy milk in your coffee.” Simon quirked an eyebrow. “What did you peg me for?” Emily shrugged. “I dunno. I figured maybe you’d take it black or with whole milk.” Simon made a face. “Black coffee is gross. I need something in it and I’m not the biggest fan of regular milk, unless I’m having ice cream, then I’m cool with it.” Emily laughed. “I think you’d have to be crazy not to be cool with ice cream.” Simon smiled. “Besides you look like you have a pretty normal coffee. Don’t you young kids drink lattes or frappacinos or some shit like that?” Emily giggled and shook her head. “Nah, I’m just a plain old cream and sugar girl.”

The waitress returned with Simon’s coffee a few minutes later. Simon rubbed his stomach. “I’m starving. Did you eat? I’m gonna get a muffin or something. Would you like something?” Emily nodded. “Yeah, actually that sounds great.” Simon called the waitress over and ordered a chocolate chip muffin. The waitress looked at Emily. “Anything for you, dear?” “I’ll have the same thing.” The waitress nodded and walked off. Simon added some sugar to his coffee and took a sip, closing his eyes and sighing contently. “Mm, that is a damn good cup of coffee.”

Emily smiled and thanked the waitress as she returned with their muffins. Simon grabbed a muffin and took a huge bite. “Delicious.” Simon announced. Emily broke off a small piece of the muffin and ate it, licking her lips. “Mm, you’re right. I’ve never had any food from here before. I usually just get coffee.” Simon took another sip of his coffee. “Well you, uh, look like you’re feeling much better.” Emily nodded a bit. “I am, yes, thank you. And really, thank you again for driving me home and then bringing my phone back to me.” Simon shook his head. “It’s not a big deal. Just doing the right thing. What I would hope someone would do if my daughter were in the same situation.”

Emily smiled. “Aww, you have a daughter?” Simon laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, I do.” “Do you mind if I ask how old she is?” Simon shook his head. “She’s 8. She’ll be 9 in a couple of weeks.” Emily sipped her coffee. “I remember when my sister was that age. She was so well behaved. Now she’s a terror.” She said with a laugh. “How old is she now?” Simon asked. “She just turned 16 a couple of months ago but the way she acts you’d think she was 60.” Simon laughed. “Actually, it’s not fair of me to say she’s a terror. She’s back in Vermont and I’ve only seen her a handful of times over the last few years. I actually miss her a lot. I wish I could go home more.”

Simon finished his muffin as he listened to Emily. “So you’re from Vermont, huh? I figured you weren’t from around here.” Emily quirked an eyebrow. “You did? How’s that?” Simon shrugged a bit. “You have a different accent from anyone else around here.” Emily nodded. “Hmm, I guess that makes sense. Are you from here?” Simon nodded. “Yep, born and raised. I moved to Miami for college but came back as soon as I graduated.” “That was my plan too. Move to DC for college then go back to Burlington. But I just fell in love with it here. My mom was so upset when I told her I accepted a job here.” Simon smiled. “Where did you go to college?” “Georgetown.” “Georgetown? So you’re a smarty pants, huh?”

Emily blushed a bit and shrugged. “I guess so.” Simon finished his coffee and waved the waitress over for a refill. He thanked her as she walked away. “So, did you live in Alexandria and travel to DC for school?” Emily nodded. “Yeah. I mean not at first. I only made it a semester living on campus. Unlike the spoiled rich kids that go there, I actually got into Georgetown on a scholarship. So doing well on tests and projects was actually really important. I just couldn’t take all the partying, as crazy as that sounds. Luckily the university had some off campus housing here in Alexandria and well, as they say, the rest is history.”

Simon smiled. “You’re pretty young though. You couldn’t have graduated more than a year ago at the most.” Emily laughed softly. “I graduated almost 6 months ago. And I’m not a child. I’m 21.” Simon laughed. “Well you’re a child compared to this old geezer.” Simon said, pointing to himself. Emily scoffed. “Geezer? What are you? 40 at the most? You’re not ancient.” Simon smirked a bit. “Wow, you guessed my age exactly. Good job.” Emily grinned and patted herself on the back. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” Simon shook his head and laughed. Emily ordered a refill on her coffee as they continued their conversation. It was light, but luckily not strained. After some time Simon pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. They’d been talking for nearly an hour already. Simon thought maybe he should leave, but he was actually having a nice time, and Emily didn’t seem to be in a rush. Staying for a few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

Simon was just about to speak when Emily asked him a question. “So, Amara’s. Where does that name come from?” Simon smiled softly. “That’s my daughter’s name.” Emily’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, that’s so sweet. That’s such a unique and beautiful name!” “Thank you. It means ‘immortal’ in Sanskrit. At least that’s what my wife…ex-wife…tells me.” Emily chewed her bottom lip. “Oh…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Simon held up his hand and shook his head. “No apology necessary. There’s literally no way you would’ve know that. Unless you’re secretly stalking me.” She laughed nervously. “No, I’m definitely not. But, I’m still sorry to hear that. My parents are divorced so I know that it can really suck. I think it’s part of the reason my mom was so upset that I took a job here. She’s afraid she’s gonna be alone, I guess.”

Unfortunately Simon could relate to that. Ever since the divorce he felt lonely. He had friends and hung out with them often, but it doesn’t always fill that void that a romantic partner can fill. He shrugged a bit. “It’s a scary feeling but it’ll all work out in the end. Right now I just need to focus on doing right by my daughter. She’s all that matters right now.” Emily smiled brightly. She loved that Simon was all about his daughter. It explained why he took such good care of her at the bar the other night. As she took another sip of her coffee she happened to glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “Oh shit. I am so sorry, Simon. I have to go. I didn’t realize what time it was.” Simon shook his head. “No worries. I should probably head out too.”

Emily stood and reached into her purse, pulling out cash to cover the bill. “That’s really not necessary. I…” Emily cut off Simon’s attempted protest. “I insist. Like I said, it’s the least I can do for what you did for me. Really.” Simon finally relented. “Ok, ok.” Emily turned and started to head towards the door but she suddenly stopped and turned back to face Simon. She knew this was gonna sound crazy, but there was just something there with her and Simon. Some sort of connection that she felt with him. Maybe this happens when someone feels like they’ve been saved by another person. But she was the type of person who couldn’t ignore something like this.

As Simon stood and finished his coffee, he noticed Emily was just standing there staring at him. He quirked an eyebrow and took a couple of steps towards her. “Are you ok?” He asked softly. Emily smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I am actually. Listen, I, um, I had a really nice time talking to you. Do you maybe wanna do this again some time?” To say that Simon was surprised by Emily’s question would’ve been an understatement. Emily was a lot younger than him and he was afraid that if he agreed to this it would send the wrong message. “Listen, Emily, I had a really nice time talking to you too but I just don’t know if that would be entirely appropriate.” Emily was confused for a moment before it finally dawned on her why Simon would think that. She blushed a deep shade of red and shook her head. “Not in a romantic way or anything…just, as friends?”

Simon couldn’t explain why but as he stood there with Emily staring up at him with her chocolate brown doe eyes, the same feeling he’d gotten at the club the other night, the feeling, no, the need, the protect Emily, overwhelmed him once again. What was happening to him? The feeling caused him to let his guard down just long enough to let her request get into his head. He nodded. “Ok, sure, as friends.” He agreed. Emily smiled. “Great! Well, I guess I’ll see you later then!” Simon returned the smile. “I guess so. Have a good day, Emily.” Emily turned and headed out of the cafe. She had a bit of a bounce in her step as she walked to her car. Simon exited the cafe and watched as Emily walked down the block and got into her car. As he made his way to his car, Simon smiled a bit. Deep down he knew he was looking forward to seeing Emily again but there was a small, nagging feeling that this girl could get him into trouble.

Tags: @faith-lynn9 @simons-thirst-squad

#Simon X OFC #Simon the Savior #Simon TWD #Steven Ogg #TWD Fanfiction

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sickdaysofficial · 7 years ago

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Sickdays 4.0: The Good Samaritan

So, I am a tad bit late on this, but I hope it’s still okay!

This is my first time writing a real sickfic (and with OCs) and I am nervous.These OCs literally just came to me today and I’m not sure how good this is? But it’s the first time these characters meet each other, since they’re brand new.

(Also, since I can only make submissions with my main blog, please just sorta, ignore it? i just mean there’s no sickfic content on there. all of my sickfic related content is on @all-the-hurt which is my sideblog)

WARNING: anxiety and descriptions of vomiting!

Cassian isn’t stupid.

He isn’t. He isn’t.

But the test he received back this Monday morning with a bold red sixty-three at the top of the page had thrown him for a real loop.

Sixty three.

There’s no way he could have gotten an F, not on the first test, not on what the professor had already said was going to be the easiest material all semester.

The number still haunts him, the bold red image dancing around in his brain every day since, and making it feel dizzy. Because he’s never gotten a grade so low in his life. He is probably overreacting and aware of it, but that acknowledgement doesn’t make it easier. He’s anxious enough on a daily basis as it is and he immediately began to panic at the prospect of failing out of a class. He’d be humiliated, devastated, and most importantly, his parents would be furious. What would they do to him if he failed his first semester?

Well, that’s something that Cassian can’t even entertain the thought of happening. Which is why, despite the panic and anxiety that it gives him, he signed up right away for tutoring that afternoon. He tried to ignore the fact that he was the only one on the sign-up sheet and told himself he isn’t stupid. He couldn’t be the only one who didn’t get this stuff, right?

The day of the session rolled around, and he woke up already in a panic when he started the day with an awful headache and an upset feeling in pit of his stomach. He hadn’t had anxiety this bad since he was seventeen, where it manifested into physical symptoms. But he recognized the familiar not-quite-pukey but consistent rolling nausea and sharp headache that sat just behind his right eye. Several doses of ibuprofen did nothing for the pain and his attempt at breakfast only made him feel more sick to his stomach. He spent the majority of the day in his dorm room tossing and turning with his head buried under pillows, until the time rolled around to drag himself to the library for the tutoring. He didn’t feel like he would even be able to focus–he could barely see straight–but there was no choice. The next exam was on Monday.

Now, sitting markedly alone in one of the tiny glass study rooms–they resemble giant fish tanks a little too much–he feels stupid. It’s nearly eight o’clock on a Friday evening. Most everyone has left, and he’s sitting in a fluorescent-lit glass box, surrounded in piles of messily scrawled notes, three textbooks, and half-eaten snacks.

He’s been here for a little over thirty minutes, waiting for the tutor that was supposed to show up at 7:20, and as minutes pass by, the anxiety is building a lump in his throat and the notes he’s been pouring over to pass the time are making less sense.

He’s 99% sure the tutor isn’t showing up.

“Hey, do you have an appointment?” A deep, clear voice suddenly appear and calls. “Or are you waiting on someone?”

Cassian’s so startled by the sudden intrusion that the textbook slides off his lap and hits the floor with a resounding thump. Stray papers flutter out everywhere, and then in a sudden panicked attempt to lean over and grab them up, he knocks his pencil case off the table too. In a panic, he slides down to the carpet and starts trying to gather things up, sparing a sheepish glance up at the doorway where a tall, broad-shouldered man stands, looking honestly intimidating lingering there in the doorway. He’s got a black studded jacket and choppy black hair that casts his expression in shadow, first looking curious and then frowning down at the mess on the floor.

“Oh, yikes,” he says with a small chuckle, and suddenly he’s not alone under the table.

Cassian startles and then locks eyes with a pair of dark grey ones.

He opens his mouth and succeeds in floundering like a dying fish, some sort of vague “uh” sound tumbling out, and then looks immediately back down. He has no idea what to do, so he just gathers up his pens. The stranger starts collecting the pages of his messy notes and he’s ashamed someone’s seeing them.

The man stands to place the papers back on the table, then swipes up the textbook too, before Cassian can get to it. He feels himself blushing–or maybe that’s just a fever–and scrambles to get out from under the table with any grace.

He half stands and rams his head into the edge of the tabletop with an audible crack. It makes his teeth clash together and sends pain exploding from his head to halfway down his spine. He drops all his pens again.

“Oh god, are you okay?” the stranger says. “That sounded like it hurt.”

It does hurt. It hurts a lot, what with how his head was already pounding and now it’s screaming.

“I… I’m…” he tries to speak, but his words are immediately lost a lump that’s grown suddenly in his throat.

He can’t seriously be about to cry right now. He absolutely cannot be doing this.

“Hey,” the guy speaks again, much more softly and closer to him now. “Oh, god. Are you really hurt? You’re not like, bleeding, are you?” His tone starts to take on an edge of panic. “Do I need to get help or, uh ice or, um…”

“No, no,” Cassian shakes his head roughly, grinding fists into the carpet but it’s useless. The words break open his careful control and he coughs to cover up the sob as tears leak out.

He whisks one hand up rub his eyes roughly, and the other clutches his head at any attempt at comfort.

He’s humiliated himself. He’s a failure, he got stood up by his tutor, his head is throbbing, his hands are shaking, his stomach hurts, and now he’s crying about it under a table in front of a tall, intimidating stranger. He’s pathetic.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the man says to him, very softly, which is even more humiliating. He thinks he’s crouching right in front of him, but Cassian’s too afraid to open his eyes.

It’s not okay, Cassian thinks, and then all at once, there’s a hot and horrible feeling rising up in his throat. He’s scrambling out from under the table, shifting to hold his hands tightly over his mouth. He pushes past the stranger who was in fact sitting on the floor in front of him. He nearly trips on the guy as he stands and makes a mad dash for the bathroom.

He tears into one of the stalls mere seconds before he loses it. Remnants of his breakfast from nearly twelve hours ago and copious amounts of stomach acid and water come up violently. It burns and he’s breathing heavily through the anxiety and pain, coughing and sending the next gush of liquid up and out of his nose too. He crashes to his knees on the floor despite how disgusting that is, as heaves wrack his body.

When the retching stops, he regains some awareness just long enough for the pain and mortification to catch up with him. If he was able to fight off the tears before, he certainly can’t anymore. His head hurts impossibly worse and now his throat and his nose burn too. He curls up against the stall wall and cries, fruitlessly mops his face with a wad of toilet paper.

He lets himself have five minutes or so of that pathetic display, and then remembers the stranger and all of his textbooks and stuff in the tutoring room. He’d left everything, even his wallet and phone behind in there.

He makes his way to the sinks and mops his face with wet paper towels and scrubs his hands roughly. He rinses out his mouth but it still burns, and he thinks there might be vomit on his shirt because he can’t stop smelling the sour scent. Gross.

He still looks like hell–his face is blotchy and red, god he’s always been a gross crier–but he can’t just leave everything back there in disarray. He’ll be lucky if the stranger guy didn’t take some of his stuff, or if someone else didn’t once he went away. He takes a deep breath that still shakes a little, and leaves. He’s lucky the library is deserted and he’s unlikely to run into anybody else on his way out and he can forget this happened.

He half-jogs back to the glass box only to find the guy still in the room, seated in one of the chairs. All of Cassian’s things are picked up and gathered up neatly on the tabletop, and the guy’s sitting with his head braced on his elbows and his expression drawn with a melodramatic looking worry.

That wasn’t what he was expecting. The embarrassment rises all over again and he truly does not want to walk back into the room.

He does, and he saunters up to the chair he’d left his bag hanging on, and looks pointedly down at it rather than at the man. He sees out of his peripheral vision when he perks up at the sight of Cassian and he starts speaking again in that flustered, worried tone.

“Hey, are you okay? You freaked me out there for a second; I wasn’t sure if you were coming back. Do you need me to get some help, or like, something else?”

“I’m okay,” he manages, lowly. “I’m sorry about that. You didn’t have to stay here. I’m fine.”

“Well… I couldn’t just leave your things here…?” he answers, not trying to disguise the fabricated tone of his excuse. “Ya know, textbooks and phone and all that.”

“There’s no one else here so late,” Cassian replies, beginning to feel a bit woozy on his feet.

“Okay, so maybe I was also concerned and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, and his face heats up. He tells himself he’s maybe feverish. “Thanks for that. I…I’m gonna go home and sleep now.” He makes to grab up his bag, but once he slings it over his shoulder, he’s hit with overwhelming waves of no way and his legs start to quake as his stomach does a flip. He clambers into the chair and slumps forward.

“You don’t seem very fine,” the man says to him, fixing curious grey eyes on him. Cassian returns his gaze with a deadpan look, even as he pillows his head in his arms.

��Really,” he goes on, running a hand through his choppy black hair like suddenly he’s the one that’s embarrassed. “Are you going to be alright to get yourself back home?”

“Yeah,” Cassian says. It… might be a lie, actually, but what is he supposed to say, honestly? This guy is honestly kind of scary looking and it’s sort of abnormal how much concern he’s showing for some scrawny crying freshman he met in the library. Not that… well, the guy has been very nice, considering, but if there’s something Cassian knows a lot about, it’s ulterior motives.

“You sure? I could walk you at least in the general direction.”

“No, it’s alright, really.”

“Sorry, that was probably pretty weird of me, huh?” the embarrassed tone is back in his voice and he laughs awkwardly. The sound takes some of the intimidating edge away from his demeanor. “I probably sound like I want something, but, uh, I promise I don’t. I just… I don’t know, I’m silly and I worry.”

“I… it… I wasn’t thinking that,” Cassian tells him, because what else is he supposed to say?

“I’m Takeshi, by the way,” the guy says then, conversationally, like they’d casually run into each other in the hall.

Despite feeling wary and still shaky and sick, Cassian almost smiles at that. This guy is sort of awkward, he thinks, which makes him feel a little better. He sits up a little. “I’m Cassian,” he replies.

“Well, I’m glad to meet you, no matter how unfortunate the situation may have been,” Takeshi smiles at him. He hesitates for a moment, looking him over. His eyes are… pretty, admittedly. Cassian tries to be wary, but he knows he’s probably still blotchy and pale, and he isn’t sure he can even stand. “If you don’t want me to accompany you out of here, then I’ll head out. As long as you’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” he confirms. He hopes he isn’t lying.

So Takeshi stands, fixing his jacket and picking up a backpack. Something small, deep in Cassian’s chest stirs and tells him that he doesn’t really want the guy to go. He stamps it down.

“I hope you feel better,” Takeshi says. “And don’t worry, stats gets easier after the first couple chapters.” Before he turns his back on Cassian, he slides a bottle of water toward him with a small grin. “Get some rest.”

Cassian can’t think of anything to say in return before he’s disappeared down the hall, but he settles back down into his arms, breathing deep. He thinks that the nausea’s settled and he should be able to make the trek back. He still feels too warm with chagrin, but the exhaustion and nagging ache of his entire body have overpowered those feelings.

His eyes wander to where Takeshi had stacked up his notes and pens neatly, to find his notebook open and something scrawled on the top of an otherwise empty page.

It’s a note. Hey, this might be awkward and if you think it’s weird, feel free to completely ignore me! But if you ever need a stats tutor again, I took it last semester and I could help. I hope your head feels better :) Takeshi. And at the very bottom is a phone number.