I felt Siroccos crawl--

Summary:
October 17, 2014: Gar and Keith spend some time to themselves. They sense the shockwave.

Keith and Miguel's Apartment


Characters

NPCs

  • None

Mood Music:
Cheshire Kitten


Papers. Papers everywhere. Papers as far as the eye can see. That's, currently, what is different about Keith and Miguel's apartment- aside from the new poster he's hung up by his bed, a recent purchase and delivery from a certain someone's fan club. There is no proper table where someone could sit and study or research, since Keith and Miguel always assumed that one or the other could create the furniture that weas needed at the moment and then dismiss it.

Until a few days ago, that was true. Now, without Miguel around, Keith is doing his reading while on the futon. Well, half of his body is sticking out of the futon, supported by his crossed arms. All across the floor there are sets of papers organized in groups, but they occupy most of the available surface of the sleeping area… except for the circle of salt, of course.

He's in his undershorts, sipping another bottle of Gar's tea, and scribbling occasionally on the printouts with a red pencil. Occasionally, he mumbles and mutters- maybe a curse here and there. The point of the matter is that he is visibly frustrated. The window remains open, even though more than a few times the Autumn wind has threatened to blow the papers all over the room.

Quoth the raven? "WHATCHA DOOOOIN?"

At least, that's what the green raven asks when he lands in the window. He cocks an eye at all the papers, which involves turning his head around in a totally bird-like twist that makes human necks twinge if they try it. This looks terrifyingly like Gar Logan's dorm room when he left it an hour ago - because it's midterm time and he's just finished grading, and prepping the lesson plans for the stand-in.

Keith looks over at the window and looks startled, even frightened for a second, but then processes the fact that the raven is very much green and not black. When that passes through his brain, he gives Garfield a smirk, "Well… over here," He says, bringing his hand down hard on one group "Is the Ars Nova, Ars Notoria, Ars Almadel—" he points at the other group "And over there there's the uninteligible insanity that is the Heptameron, the secret writings of Abramelin, the Testimony of Gwydion The Elder and the Libellus Magicus." He pauses, "A Jesuit priest wrote that last one. And look at what the cover says-" He says, grabbing the first page and holding it up so he can read it out loud to Gar:

"Verus Jesuitarum Libellus, or, The True Magical Work of the Jesuits. Containing Most powerful charges and conjurations for all Evil Spirits of whatever State-Condition or office they are." Tossing the cover back onto the pile, he quips "What the heck are Jesuit priests doing invoking evil spirits?" He pushes himself up and swings his legs around so that he is now sitting on the floor cross-legged. "And while I am always glad to see my boyfriend, I had a rather unnerving experience just a few hours ago with a raven, coincidentally."

Gar hops down from the window and lands as his human form, but that seems to be taking up too much space, on the limited floor, so he considers, and shifts to a more compact form: a housecat. He walks around the papers and rubs against Keith.

"They would be evoking and compelling for binding and exorcism, not invoking," Gar says. "Also most of this stuff is in code. Especially the Heptameron. I asked one of my profs about how useful they'd be, and she couldn't really say, except to say that if you're not Homo Magi, or given an intro by a Vishantine, you won't get much use out of the stuff that's easy to find."

He curls up into a cat-loaf on Keiths' lap.

Keith reaches over and strokes CatGar's cheek, "Then I should put these away and file them for later. These were the more common ones, I've got printouts of the rare stuff in the dresser. That stuff is too cofidied for me, even though Booster did the whole word-cloud analysis thing with Skeets for me on that one. Need to have some magus take a look at it, and right now Rain is our only chance, she's the only one I've been able to contact. Detective Pezzini says there's some sort of 'Elder God Crisis' going on right now — of course — that may be tying up all the bigtime magicians." That isn't good news, but he tries to keep his tone matter-of-fact. He reaches over and starts gathering the documents. "The good news is that at least we've got those documents. Oracle had access to some rare libraries. I sent primtouts to Rain when I saw her earlier today, so hopefully we'll get something." He does the best he can do of clearing out a space for Gar without disturbing the cat on his lap.

"By the way, don't call my phone, it was stolen by a flying chicken woman."

"Flying… chicken… woman?" Gar tilts his head, eyes wide and ears back. "I've heard of a hawk woman. There were rumors of a hawk woman around that fire in Queens that was supposed to be caused by aliens."

He stands, to let Keith move stuff, before settling back comfortably, because unlike non-speaking cats, he knows what someone's trying to do, and the lap will return. And so it has.

"How are you doing? Energy still there?"

"I sort of get tired more easily," Keith says guardedly. He does not want to worry Gar, although it worries him a little. "But I haven't felt any pain." He strokes the cat behind his ears. "So I don't think the energy is leaving any faster. But I'm not sure if being physically active drains it or not. I wish we had a fricking magus we could get answers from, this is maddening."

"I know. I almost wish the tower was still in its weird little chaos-speed-bump so I could hunt down something in the dreamworld that would know. It's a lot more dangerous to search without that," Gar says, purring intermittently as he gets scritches.

"You know, with the whole 'we hate the druds' thing that I was getting from those Bone guys, I could maybe see about getting you hooked up to the Red, but … they might not go for it either. I'm not sure if getting Sakutia and then the cure would be all that helpful anyway."

"Although the thought of having your incredible powerset and pigmentation is very alluring," Keith says with a grin, "I'm not quite sure that'd be the way to go about it. The Cait is still out there, and we've got to put him back where he belongs or else all hell is going to break loose."

The redhead gets to his feet, carrying the cat in his arms as he steps over to the window and sits on the sill. "I think I heard that one of the X-Men's allies is familiar with magic. I saw her briefly during the Greenland mission…" he tilts his head. "Maybe I should give Bobby Drake a call? You know, so he could introduce us, help us break the ice?"

Oh, that one hurt a little.

"Wait. X-Men? The one you're talking about wouldn't be Majik, would it? Because you'd be much better off getting help from Raven, if that's the direction you're going," Gar says, crawling up onto Keith's shoulder and draping around his neck. Catsnake.

"'cept your girlfriend's gone on the incommunicado binge again," Keith teases a little, "What's wrong with Majik, though? You mentioned Raven… is she all demons and things?"

His hand goes up to continue stroking the cat. He remembers how good scritching felt when he was a cat, so he's always happy to reciprocate for Gar. "I mean… I'm beginning to get desperate here, hon," his voice gets serious all of a sudden. "I know the wolf said 'weeks', but days are moving quickly and there's no progress… even if she's a demonologist, she must have some knowledge that can help us with the more esoteric texts."

One finger trails behind Gar's ear, "There are a lot of things I want to do," he says, in a voice that is a little too close to emotion to be comfortable.

"The buzz says 'demon' not 'demonologist' — not the same way as Raven, but worse in its own way, something about being ruler of one of the hell dimensions," Gar says. "But that may be old info. Things might've changed."

There is a moment of full-on empathy where Gar can feel the desperation, and he isn't sure what he can do to reinforce his partner's courage. He just rides through it, holding on slightly with claws and desperate cheek-rubbing.

"We'll do them. Promise."

Keith rubs back, giving his green partner a little head-bump. He doesn't have Gar's knack with body language reading, but there are some things he can tell. "Hey. You've been absolutely amazing in all of this. I could've never asked for a better boyfriend," he rubs the underside of catGar's chin.

"You are more than I deserve, and far more than I ever hoped for." His foot taps against the windowsill, "I just want you to know that."

Demon. Demoness, he guessed it was the correct term. But would someone evil be hanging out with Roberto's group? Roberto didn't seem to be the careless type…

"You're going to make me blush and then I'll be red and green and it's not even Halloween, way too early for Christmas," Gar says, but he doesn't pull back at all from the chinrubs.

"Anyway… I dunno if Majick can do more specifically than Raven, but I'm pretty sure she's not safe. I'm thinking Rain might be a good choice, really…"

At this point Gar might even consider Klarion, though what he's heard about that one doesn't make him want to get anywhere near, and he hasn't heard that much, really.

"Rain it is, then." Keith nods, trusting Gar's judgment. Gar never gave his opinion unless he had something to back it up with, and while some people might want to assert their egos and reject advice, it wasn't in Keith's nature to do so. He may bristle and bump chests with Damian-Robin, but that had more to do with the bird's attitude than anything else.

"Christmas. It'd be nice to see one. Four years without a Christmas is too long." He hms, continuing the chin rubs, "Do you go home for Christmas?"

"Sometimes. Not last year though," Gar says. His adoptive parents weren't there; he doesn't want to think about why and successfully represses it to the point where he doesn't remember why… but there's probably a good reason that he also doesn't remember.

"Would you like to go somewhere with me for Christmas? I'd kinda like that. My adoptive folks won't be around again."

Nope. Denial is NOT a river in Egypt; it's all needed RIGHT HERE.

Keith blinks at that, a little surprised. "Gar, I'd love that," he says, smiling gently. "I'd… love that a lot, actually." The thought of December seemed so far away, a goal to reach should he be able to vault over the 'few weeks' that were left in his timer- achieve the impossible. But then again, they did that all the time, right? Tthe thought clearly makes him smile. For once, he doesn't bring up potential costs or expenses. There is a certain edge, though, when he thinks about the absence of Gar's folks. He doesn't understand it, but he also does not press, because he senses the potential for pain.

~Who wouldn't want to spend time with you?~ Keith muses to himself. Thinking has become a rather solitary endeavor as of late, being now the privy of one consciousness instead of having his own peanut gallery.

"You know… there is something rather humorous about all this," Keith says with a hint of mischief to his tone, as he stands up and walks over to the kitchen to pour himself some tea, making sure Gar is still around his shoulders.

"And what would that be, my most excellent steed?" Gar asks, allowing himself the luxury of being carried around like a fur stole.

A green fur stole, which is not too far from the green boa that Danny the Street first put around Keith's shoulders when they walked out of Kate's closet.

And it was even stranger than that phrase made it sound. "Remember that night in your dorm when I almost bolted after you confronted me with my attraction, and we agreed to take things slowly?"

He puts the empty sip bottle in the sink and grabs one of the cold ones that Gar prepared for him from the fridge. "If we count the mixer-" and his first kiss, might it be added, "As the starting point of us dating… we've only been dating for a month and fourteen days." Yes, Keith wrote about that kiss in his super-secret journal which he keeps hidden from everyone (but, let's face it, Gar totally knows where he hides it- it's the one that smells of Irish boy.)

He looks at Garcat out of the corner of his eyes as he takes a sip. "Considering the fact that we sleep in the same bed and other things… I think I may have totally derailed the 'taking it slow' part. Should I apologize?" he asks, and actually means it.

For someone who was spiritually bonded to a spirit of deceit and mischief, Keith is completely guileless sometimes. He didn't grow up playing 'the games'- all the complicated courtship and betrayal that teenagers engage in that receives the name of 'dating', and constitutes a practice that remains with a lot of people into their adult years. He's completely straightforward, except in matters where he feels lacking in confidence… which is why Gar had to sniff him out. Literally.

"No apologies needed. We haven't even pushed the sex part of things very much," the catGar says. "So no, the only derailing is that we may choose to do something more immediately than we would otherwise, because we're concerned about running out of time. That's not your fault."

The cat puts a paw up on Keith's cheek, and very gently prickles; his claws are clean, unlike more common cats who might've drug them through any number of horrible places.

"This has been the easiest relationship, you would not believe how much high school and the team drama was … it was like that bad soap opera you don't believe because nobody would be like that except that they were."

"I was wondering. A lot of people talk about relationships as if they're this crazy thing. So you had those too…I guess it's easy because we fit together. I'd never want to pretend around you, and you can read me like a book… and what's crazy? I kinda like that. You reading me like that." He tilts his head to look at the cat directly. "Nobody's ever really known me like that outside of my family," or, rather, his mother, "I like that. Being known by you. I like knowing you, too. I feel like I could stay knowing you for as long as there's time. And that would be very nice. I know people aren't things and that they don't 'belong' to anyone, but at least I feel that I 'belong' to you, in a non-thing, non-slaveish sort of way."

The redhead blushes at the mention of sex, and reaches out to play with the cat's paw, leaning on the counter.

"On that… I do want to. I'm… I'd like it to be good for both of us. When we're both ready, you know?" He says. It would be disingenuous to say that thoughts of Gar didn't run through his head in that way- some nights when the green man was away, they practically somersaulted through his head. "Since I've never done it… but I want it to be you." That they may run out of time… is something he doesn't want to contemplate.

"Have to say, you're much easier to read than most… even without the elf-cat inside you making everything really obvious, you're not much for lying or hiding," Gar purrs. He considers the 'belonging' thing… "Not as property but as a part of, maybe? I think that's kind of a two-way thing."

Gar is then sitting on the counter as a human, because he's been talking far too much as a cat, and it's unnatural. He's still wrapped around Keith though, arms around his neck and legs around his torso.

"We'll get to everything that we want to … I believe in you, Keef. I think your missing half will realize he's missing us both, and come back. He's too wild to let those ridiculous throwback druds keep him wound up forever."

Keith's arms move to wrap around Gar as well, one of them reaching down to caress his legs.

~… he does have great legs. Great everything, really.~

"Unless he's under a compulsion greater than himself. Those druids were very powerful." He enjoys the closeness with Gar, and his voice drops in volume to embrace the intimacy. "A part of each other. I like that very much. I am sorry you've had to deal with dickweeds who couldn't see what a great guy you are." And then, a little cocky smile. "But I'm here now, so everything's ok. I'm going to make it up by being the best possible boyfriend. With occasional cabana boy duties." A wink, and then he grins. "Thanks for believing in me…" he moves closer, arms squeezing Gar against him as he plants a rather passionate, but sweet, kiss on the man's lips. He may even tease him by giving his lower lip a slight nibble. "… I believe in you."

"Yeah, well, he's a cat, he'll remember eventually that there ISN'T anyone greater than himself and he'll break their spells. He got out of that mirror after all."

OK, so it wasn't a CLEAN escape. Still. Gar is pretty sure that the Cait can manage it. He believes in the critter, after all.

"You keep flattering me like you weren't doing something very much the same… we'll trade off on the cabana boy thing, if you don't mind. And I definitely believe in you, Keith O'Neil. So don't make me demand that the children clap for you, because you'd make a terrible lamp."

Keith laughs, reaching out to run his fingers through Gar's hair. "Okay, I can totally get into trading the cabana boy duties. I get to decide what you wear during those times, though," he adds, and wiggles his eyebrows. "And what do you mean? People would totally clap for me. Heck… I'm pretty sure I'll eventually have you cheering!"

Well. At least he's pretty sure. He knows the theory, anyways…

"I'm pretty sure you already do have me cheering. And I'm not sure I want to let you decide, unless I get to decide likewise. Also, it depends on where we are," Gar laughs. "I won't wear the butt-floss thong on the cruise ship. Too much papparazzi."

"Oh, the butt-floss is for cabin-side only… and you do get to decide. Provided glitter isn't involved-" Keith pauses. "Cruise ship?… I've never been on a cruise ship." He has heard they exist. He watched reruns of Love Boat with his mother at one point. The thought of being in the middle of the ocean with Gar, and their own cabin.
"Say, is it getting hot in here?"

"Getting hot? I don't know what you mean," Gar says, kissing Keith on his forehead to make sure he's not running a fever from being too active after his near-dissolution. He grins at the redhead.

"What kind of cruise would you like? I warn you, I do not want anything to do with a Carnival Fun Cruise … those things are insane swarms of the worst kind of tourists, they don't have room in their suitcases so they leave their manners and common sense at home."

"Mmaybe something smaller than that. Like that cruise to the Galapagos Islands they advertise wo much? I figured, since your major and all that? And you get to visit the research stations as well as do the island tours. There won't likely be any paparazzi to hound you."

He touches foreheads with Gar, "But I need to come up with nice things to do for you. I can't take you on a cruise! Unless you use a lot of imagination and a bahttub."

"I'd really like to do an Antarctic trip but that'd be in the future, they're already sold out for this year," Gar says. "You'd probably end up teasing the leopard seals about their spots, too."

Gar grins and stares into green eyes.

"That could be fun. You do know that I've loved everything you've come up with. Besides maybe we'll just spend Christmas in the Titans Lair."

That elicits an even bigger grin.

Keith grins back, looking into Gar's own green eyes.

"I would love that, very much." He smiles and touches his lips to Gar's, "You know… over there's not a lot of reason for us to have… separate rooms in the lair. I mean… if you'd like to-"

Yes, he just craftily slipped that in. A bit of the Cait Sidhe must rub off on him every now and again.

Somewhere in Gotham, however, a ways off, golden eyes open wide, and… chaos leaks through. But it will be just a bit before it comes this way.

"There's always Propriety, but really, the only good reason is to have separate closet space," Gar says. "Neither of us snores much. We might get one of the bigger rooms and set it up as a shared double except that we only use one bed at a time."

Chaos is leaking a bit from Gar's eyes, though not in such a magically tangible way.

"I would like that," Keith admits, his grin widening.

And then it happens. The lights blink out and all the electronic devices in the room shut down. There is complete and total darkness-

Except for Keith. Keith positively glows for a second.

Then the lights slowly, hesitatntly and intermittenlty come back to life. The redhead, though, looks much better, as if he has had a refreshing sleep and a spa visit. His green eyes stay fixed on Gar's as he tries to parse what just happened.

"… that felt… that felt like the Chaos Wave-" the young man says, in awe. It felt like that, but much stronger than he's ever been able to make it. It could only mean one thing-

"He's out. He's revealed himself somewhere," His arms hold Garfield, in a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "… now that he's out in the open… maybe we'll be able to catch him!"

"Do you want to go right now? Because we can do that," Gar says. "What will we do though?"

Now that the Cait has shown his smile, it's amazing how unprepared Gar is really… he's done the 'deliberate, measured vengeance' trick once before, but this isn't vengeance, and this isn't out of mad anger. This is desperation and love, and how do you do cold, premeditated desperation and viciously measured love?

"No. It'll be impossible to trace him right now- it'll be chaos over there." It's Keith's turn to be prepared and deliberate. He may not know a lot… but he knows the Cait. He steps into the spot Gar vacated, figuratively speaking, and takes his partner by the hand.

"We go to bed and rest. Tomorrow morning, when all the chaos has settled down, we go and investigate. Something this big will be on the news, and that will tell us the epicenter. From there, we will be able to piece what he was doing, and guess at where he'll go next."

Keith smiles at Gar, the same mixture of desperation and love reflected back. "He may not know it consciously, but that must have been his way of signaling us as well. Maybe he does miss us. If I couldn't find you, I would be shouting myself hoarse until I found you. Maybe that's what I did? Who knows." He steps back and holds his hand out to Garfield. "Bedtime, Mister Logan?"


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