#idk if i've ever like. fully written a carey pov

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Carey didn't really like going into the Director's office. Like, yeah, sure, she'd have to come on by every once and a while if Lucretia wanted to talk to her or just some of the Regulators in general. But being in an office wasn't exactly Carey's preferred "let's have a conversation zone". Sadly, this was a conversation she would prefer to have as soon as possible, so waiting to catch the Director outside her office was a no-go.

Carey rapped on the door, and then let herself in before the Director could answer. The office had grown more cluttered since Candlenights. Maybe it was the quick pace they were making with collecting the Relics, but the Director often seemed much more weary than she used to. There were times when she truly looked her age. Carey didn't know much about how humans aged— though she was learning! She was learning.— but every time she looked, the Director seemed to have aged a few more years.

There was a stack of papers stacked on her desk in a messy pile. The Director had three out in front of her— Carey could recognize Magnus's chicken scratch. She seemed to be reviewing the mission reports from the last relic collection. The Temporal Chalice and whatnot. At the very least, that might make this conversation a little easier.

The Director looked up at her. Had she ever told them how old she was? She looked worn and on edge, but she put on her professional face as Carey shut the door, the face she rarely let anyone see her without. Carey knew when someone was wearing a mask all too well.

"Carey," she said, moving the reports aside. "What can I do for you?"

Okay. Okay. She could do this. Just had to say words! In a good order. Yeah.

"Well, uh," Carey said, sitting herself down in one of the chairs across from the Director's desk. "I just had a question, 'Creesh."

The Director let out a little annoyed sigh. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Please don't call me that," she said.

"Just keepin' you on your toes," Carey said. She swung her tail back and forth to give herself something to do. "No, but, for real. I did have a question."

The Director waved her hand in a "go ahead" motion. Carey cleared her throat.

"Is there anything… other than the Voidfish that can, like, static up someone's memories?"

The Director blinked. She sat up a little.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well," Carey said. How in-depth did she want to go with this? She picked around in her mind for a starting point. Her gaze lingered on the mission reports and Magnus's shitty handwriting a moment longer. "Y'know the— the whole thing that the Chalice did where it, uh… rooted through the boys' memories a bit?"

The Director kept her face perfectly neutral. Not a crack.

"I'm aware," she said, glancing down at the reports as well.

"I don't know how, uhm, in-depth they got with you on those reports," Carey said, even though she did know exactly how in-depth Magnus had gone with his (which is to say: barely anything. The deep and understandable distrust of authority figures hadn't changed in Refuge.). "But I was talkin' to Magnus and, uh. We were just wondering. 'Cus there was an entire… bit. With a buncha static, apparently? Like, a real long bit. And I know static is kinda the Voidfish's thing, but he's inoculated obviously, so—?"

She left the question open-ended, watching the Director's face. As expected, there wasn't a shift in expression. There was open concern there, a little bit of curiosity. But from what Carey could tell, the Director seemed to be telling the truth when she said,

"As far as I'm aware of, nothing else has powers remotely like the Voidfish." She paused, tilting her head. "It may be a memory spell, or mayhaps a curse? But Magnus should— he should not be receiving any memory-impacting side effects of the Voidfish since he has been inoculated with the ichor."

"Killian was thinkin' curse," Carey admitted, swinging her legs. "But then it's just like— why, y'know? Like whatever he can't remember isn't doing anything other than— than— ughhhh." Carey dragged her hand down her face. "Director, can you keep a secret?"

"Carey," the Director said, with a touch of humor. "Think of who you're asking."

"Fair enough," Carey relented. "It's just— it's not my secret to tell, but also you are like, one of the only people I could think of of knowing what the hell might be going on. But it's— well, y'know how Magnus grew up in Raven's Roost?"

"I'm well aware," the Director said. "As he keeps mentioning it every other conversation we have."

"Yeah," Carey said. "He does that. But he— I mean, again, he grew up in Raven's Roost. Like, that's his entire thing. But, uhm. He told me that sometimes in like, the last few years he lived there, things seemed… off?"

"How do you mean?"

Carey groaned, trying to think.

"Like— his mom ran a flower shop? But no one ever heard of it before. No— no one seemed to know his mom. And I can tell it upset him, but he doesn't like to talk about it, y'know? It's hard— it's hard to kinda chip away at his brain when he doesn't really trust his brain in the first place."

And there it was. For the first time since Carey entered the room, a small crack appeared in the Director's perfect mask. It was a small thing— she clenched her jaw and drew back on herself slightly, barely enough to be noticeable. And the look in her eyes changed from professional interest to completely and utter devastation and back to professional interest once more. She locked herself back up even faster than Magnus did. That being said, Carey wasn't as close with the Director as she was with Magnus.

She knew Magnus's tells. The way he held himself, the tiniest change in his expressions, the pitch of his voice. But it was hard to see past the brick wall that was the Director's facade. All she got were these little glances, the restless note in her speech, the state of her office.

Magnus held secrets he didn't know about. Carey knew that. The Director looked like she held all her secrets and the weight of the world as well. In some way, she did.

Carey didn't know if she'd be able to have the courage to do what the Director did. She was beginning to become uncertain if that was a good or a bad thing.

"Magnus should not be receiving any memory-impacting side effects of the Voidfish," the Director repeated, voice steady, body still. Carey's tail thrashed a bit. Then, with a touch of sincerity and a weird twist of what Carey could only identify as yearning, she added, "but I genuinely hope you can find something that will ease Magnus's mind."

"Yeah," Carey said, watching as the Director straightened the reports out, then pick up a pen. "Me too."