Sock and owl - Come to Jesus

[hopalongmcgurk.livejournal.com]

I know that Brienne is a grown adult, and anyway she is bigger than me and could squash me like a bug if she wanted to, but I still feel some responsibility to her, even if I get irritated by her oafish awkwardness and her crippling self-doubt. Which explains why I'm curled up on her scrupulously made bed, reading the biography of some guy named Gilderoy Lockhart, who used to apparently be some kind of hugely powerful wizard but who isn't anymore.

When Brienne comes in, she's smiling, lost in thought. I consider sitting up abruptly and shouting "Boo!" just to see what happens, but then she spots me and frowns.

"How'd it go tonight?" I ask around a yawn, before she can snap at me for being in her room.

She looks puzzled as she answers, sitting heavily on the other end of the bed. "It... went well."

Usually, I'd have called bullshit on something like that, but I don't. I don't have much patience for self-pity, and I think that's how Brienne's reaction would have read to me if I didn't know her well. The problem with Brienne is that there's no artifice about her. She genuinely is puzzled that her evening didn't go to hell and back. It's that genuineness that keeps me drawn to her, and it's one of the reasons she reminds me so terribly much of Mary Lick. That and the social awkwardness, the big body that is only graceful when it's engaged in athletic pursuits, and the face only a mother could love. The only difference is, I have no need or desire to kill Brienne. Even if sometimes she does drive me crazy with her aforementioned tendency toward excessive self-doubt.

Being her friend isn't always a walk in the park, though, and I'm not as sanguine about the fact that she reminds me of Mary as I could be. I have nightmares in which it's Brienne's blue eyes looking out accusingly at me from Mary's face as we're both trapped in a women's locker room, breathing in ammonia and about to die. I'm sure, when she encounters me after one of those nightmares, Brienne is confused when I'm snappish with her, but it's not something I can tell her about.

She's looking at me now, obviously expecting a reaction rather than the woolgathering I've been doing, so I smile. "I'm glad. You going to see him again?"

She gives a slow nod. "I think so."

"Did he take liberties?" I don't know why I ask this, because it's really none of my business, and Brienne, as mentioned earlier, is a big girl and doesn't need to answer to me. But maybe I'm feeling a need for sharing secrets that I didn't get from Ely and Iphy.
I don't get an answer from Brienne. She just frowns heavily at me, a look that says that I have way overstepped my bounds and indicates the door. "Good night, Olympia," she says meaningfully.

I can't help but push a little. "Come on, what did you do?" I persist, not moving.

"We talked." She shucks off the top she's been wearing, once more glancing meaningfully between me and the door.

"And?"

"That's *all* we did, Olympia," she says. "If you think there is more, you have a sordid imagination. Good night."
"Fine," I say with a laugh. "I'm going. But if you ever decide you need some prophylactic potion--"

"In such an event--which is highly unlikely to occur--I will speak to Professor Snape," Brienne bites out.

I know when I've overstayed my welcome, so I leave her to her own devices and return to the pallet on my floor. I can't quite let it go, though. I know a little bit of what's happened to Brienne, from the things she's told me, though she doesn't speak of the horrible things she went through back home all that much, and even though this is Hogwarts, where the most traumatic thing that can happen to you involves you eating enchanted food products, I don't want to see my friend hurt. Besides, I need some practice against the day that Miranda decides she wants to meet a nice boy (or girl, or other species altogether) here at Hogwarts. I figure having a little come-to-Jesus talk with Methos will at least ease my mind. And since I still don't know what he looks like, I need to remedy that as well, against the day someone does need to administer a jock itch rune to him.

I flag down a house elf the next afternoon and send it with a message to Methos. When the elf, who has obviously done messenger duties a lot, tentatively suggests that the owlery is really the place to go, I snap at it that I'm too fucking old to climb all the stairs in this castle.

The message I've composed (and warded heavily) reads:

METHOS:

WE NEED TO TALK.

MEET ME IN THE CLASSROOM ON THE THIRD FLOOR ACROSS FROM THE PAINTING OF THE GIANT SQUID IN ONE HOUR.

I don't bother with a signature. I figure it's more dramatic that way, and I'm nothing if not still a showman at heart.

I arrive early so I can be there when (or if) he arrives. I take a desk in the corner and wait, pretending to read. My wizard's robe--shrunken to accommodate my size--is black, as is my wig. It's great clothing for skulking, and if there's one thing I'm good at, it's skulking.

Comments

[ancient-adam.livejournal.com]

At the mention of runes, the scholar in Methos perked. “Ancient runes? Germanic or Norse? The runes really carry power over here?”

“I don’t know how much Brienne told you, but I and my kind are immortal. We never age, never get sick, and we heal from virtually any injury, from the mundane to the catastrophic. It’s not magic in the same sense that’s praticed here, but it’s the closest I’ve come. The whole business with wands and spells and so on.. is still pretty new.”

[hopalongmcgurk.livejournal.com]

"Well, Mr. Wednesday specializes in Norse runes," I answer. "Though I imagine he's not unfamilliar with other runes either. He's having a class sometime this week. You really ought to go, if only for the fact that I think you'll find him an interesting person." Actually, I'm not certain how an immortal and a god will get on, but I kind of want to watch.

[ancient-adam.livejournal.com]

He nodded, "I was planning on it. I spent some time with the Vikings once Rome started to fall apart from the inside out. They used them mainly for augury, but it was a fascinating method of writing."

Methos inclined his glass of lemonade in Oly's direction, "I'm finding a lot of interesting people since I got back."

[hopalongmcgurk.livejournal.com]

I allow myself an impressed whistle. "Wow... the sacking of Rome. That must have been quite an experience." I incline my head in acknowledgement of his last statement and flash him a full-fledged grin. "Yeah, there certainly are. You never know who you'll meet wandering around."

I finish my lemonade and stand up once more, offering my hand. "It's been nice meeting you," I tell him with sincerity. "And I'll see you in class?"

[ancient-adam.livejournal.com]

Methos shook her hand firmly, "It's been nice meeting you too Oly. Absolutely, I'll be there. I look forward to it."

He drained his glass and left the class, his mind already working on the gift he was going to send to Brienne.