lifeaftr | [open] if you're the bird, whenever we pretend it's summer

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[open] if you're the bird, whenever we pretend it's summer

Who: Kravitz and you!
What: Ren has so graciously gifted Kravitz a new pet, and he is very, very excited about it.
When: Backdated to January 15th
Where: Starting at Elf Camp and then around Enso's shoreline
Warnings: Should be good!

i. [closed to ren, elf camp] you and i left our troubles far behind

[The thing about this plan is that Kravitz was not informed it was even a plan.

When Ren so innocently asked him about birds he liked over a month ago at the petting zoo, Kravitz had truly thought nothing of it. He's spoken about ravens before, and Ren ends up intent on the strangest things- it would be a lot to keep track of if he tried to record everything she's ever done. So the morning it Happens, he's peacefully sleeping away in the main tent of elf camp, none the wiser for what's about to go down.

Good luck, Ren. Or really, good luck Kravitz, in holding his own shit together.]

ii. [open, enso's shores] but i still have just one more question on my mind

[He had no idea this was even going to work, but now that it has, Kravitz is intent on testing the new bird out. He can be found along the shoreline of Enso, a large black bird on his shoulder that Kravitz seems to be talking to. It, on the other hand, is looking very intently at his closed fist at his chest.]

Okay, Lieutenant Pepper, we're going to go over this again. I'm going to throw this, and you're going to bring it back, and if you do-- without swallowing it-- you can have a treat. Okay? Good.

[The arm that has the bird on it produces a rock, which he tosses underhand away from him.]

Go on! Get it, bring it back--

[Yes. He's teaching a bird to play fetch. This is exactly what's happening here.]

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[As someone from the world the Stones came from, he knows their limitations well. But he actually looks mildly horrified at the implication she might die, which is ironic for a billion reasons.]

Wh-- no, no I don't want that. She's smart. I won't let her get hurt.

[Krav.]

Back home I could uhm, see through their eyes as well. I'm hoping when she has more training I can ask the Storyteller for that ability back, perhaps. She can scout new islands, perhaps. Make sure we do not walk into traps.

You really think they could help with that?

[He's not really sure about the Storyteller's...limitations. He doesn't have anything that needs requesting back, just objects that might help. He's always been a pretty ordinary person, in terms of what he can do.]

[It's what he is that's the problem.]

I would think there's no harm in asking. I can already speak telepathically, it's just a matter of her understanding my language or my ability to speak hers. It can all be done with magic, certainly, but it's a case of if that magic is permissible.

[He could probably have broken that down better for someone who doesn't know magic, but to him it all feels quite simple. He's less worried about the Storyteller's ability- they're a god, and therefore able to do much. It's the land he figures they're fighting.]

You can speak telepathically.

[This shouldn't have been a surprise. It's not a surprise, really; it's just an unpleasant jolt in the pit of his stomach that curls up like a dead spider's legs, that little knee-jerk reminder, the quiet little deflated: oh.]

[Credit where credit's due, but Tim doesn't react the way he would have just over a year ago. He breathes in, exhales, and looks at Kravitz directly.]

To birds, or to everyone?

Oh, anyone.

[And for a split second he goes to just do it, before he recalls the single lesson he's learned in nearly a year of being in this place, which is "not everyone likes it when you just do shit". If Tim is aware of presences in his mind- which, let's be real, of course he is- he may have felt something for just a quick second before Kravitz speaks again.]

Uhm, do you want me to demonstrate? I mean, not on the bird, it's-- I could, but they have to speak somehow. I don't think bird counts as a language.

No.

[The word is harder than he means it to be, sets his teeth on edge. It pinches his hands into fists and he makes a concentrated effort to relax them, cram them into his pockets instead so that he doesn't have to focus on the subtle tremor that lives beneath his skin.]

You're not psychic. Right?

[Hey look, he got one singular thing right. Good job Kravitz. Though at the assumption, he waves his hand in dismissal.]

Oh-- no, no. I can only send messages back and forth, if it's initiated. I don't read minds just out of the blue.

[Though there is magic that can do that, it seems like a bad idea to say those words to Tim right now.]

If it's initiated? So you're...one-way telepathic, or...?

[He can't read minds, which is the important thing. Which is the real takeaway here. Thank god for that, because that would have been a hell of a thing to just drop on Tim's shoulders unfuckingannounced.]

No, it's-- it's more like-- hang on.

[He takes his free hand and roots around in his pockets for a second before pulling out his Stone of Farspeech.]

Imagine you could only receive calls, not make them. I could call you, with this power, but I would not be able to hear what you were saying before I called. And once I hang up or get out of range, I also cannot hear. Does that make sense? If I open it, start something, I can hear you respond to me until it is closed. Then when it is closed, I would have to open again.

[Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, Kravitz phone.]

[It's a solid enough explanation, considering they're talking about telepathic communication here. Tim's brow furrows ever deeper the longer Kravitz goes on for.]

[He seems like he's going to say something else, but instead he just - ]

Is that just something you get when you become a Death Cop?

[He's waiting maybe a little too eagerly to see if Tim understands, so the line lands perfectly and his face falls flat at the delivery, straightening his back and putting his stone away with a sigh. Of course. This is what he gets for being enthusiastic about anything at all and gaining a reputation for it. God forbid it be something he likes.]

Yes, it is, actually. This is part of the repertoire of abilities I was granted when I was deputized in service to the Raven Queen. It aids me in my work. Souls don't exactly have mouths, you know, it would be awfully hard to communicate with them if I couldn't reach out in some way.

So you're not really communicating with minds. It's with souls.

[The thought seems to needle at him, or digs underneath his skin in some way. It's the notion of souls in general that took some adjusting to from the beginning, and now that he knows he has one tucked away inside him, glistening scarlet, it burns a cold ash-stain in the pit of him.]

[Another reminder of the adjacencies between worlds, and the places where they intersect.]

[It's not always a pleasant feeling.]

I suppose. They tend to be one in the same when a being is alive.

[It's more difficult to draw things apart from each other, but souls vacate when their extremities die. It's a survival thing, just not in the way mortals imagine it to be.]

But no, I'm not pulling things out of your brain for fun. I'm not evil, regardless of the implications of death on the populace.

I had to check.

[He doesn't explain why. It's as short as anything he says when he doesn't feel up to explaining; he had to check, and that's the end of it. It's not just that there's shit in his head he'd rather not be public - invasions of privacy are standard, for him. It's that he doesn't want It infecting anyone else.]

[(Too late for that, of course.)]

I never said you were.

[He just shrugs, at last not seeming bothered by it.]

I tend to assume people think the worst in me. Or at least, of Death. Most people don't have such favorable opinions.

[They project, he thinks, as if a natural process could be good or evil. It's just a matter of balance, what keeps mortals mortals and gods gods. He'd reason it that everyone wants to live, but he's been proven continuously wrong around here.]

You sound like you'll probably know if I'm around, anyway.

[The irony: Tim's views on death are less than charitable not because of a fear of the concept, but because death apparently won't do its damn job where he's concerned.]

Probably not. Just...don't go using it with me unless you have to.

[Disembodied voices in his head make him cagey, even if he doesn't see or hear things that aren't there so much these days. Not unless he's in a bad way.]

[Which does tend to happen.]

[Yeah, that's only a foreign concept to him because he does his damn job. Lots of other worlds' Reapers need a talking to, in his opinion. A long one. Using his hands.]

Right. Only in case of emergencies.

[Which can happen a lot around here, but-- one can hope they won't.]

Well, uhm. I hope you enjoyed meeting Pepper anyway.

[Said Lieutenant is still hopping about in the sand, cheerfully oblivious to any trauma.]

I think Pepper would've enjoyed meeting me a lot more if I had food.

[It's not a pointed remark - just an idle comment, which as close as he gets to amused without it sliding into something potentially condescending. He's making an effort here, which is more than he usually does.]

[Maybe because some part of him feels bad for the way they met.]

[He's not totally expecting a joke, and it catches him off guard. He's quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say, until Pepper looks up at Tim and lets out a loud and obnoxious caw.

And that gets a chuckle out of him, a shake of his shoulders and a raise of his hand to his mouth to cover it.]

Well, it seems she agrees, unfortunately for you.

[It helps, for the half second that Kravitz laughs, in that Tim feels like less of an asshole than usual, and he doesn't smile, naturally. He just glances at the crow in question and there's a stirring at the corner of his mouth and it's gone again, just as quick.]

Good luck with teaching her, I guess.

[It's okay, in the end. They're both just a little off. What else is new?]

I appreciate it. Feel free to uhm... visit, I suppose. I'm sure we'll both be around.

[He leans down to try and compel her onto his arm, and she approaches but just kind of... stops. So much for any kind of dramatic exit.]

[It's a good thing Tim isn't one to laugh at that little stumble; it'd just add insult to injury, and Kravitz is probably used to being a lot more impressive. It's not his fault that Tim is so desensitized to just about every-fucking-thing that so little rattles him anymore.]

You're living with the elves, right?

[He figured, but it pays to make sure.]

[He feels like he traded away every chance he had to be impressive when he got stuck here and made mortal. It's just all he's got. Thankfully Pepper gets the hint when he finds more food, and he transfers her up to his shoulder as she munches.]

Yes, with them and Ren. It's not far from the Storyteller's temple, just watch for traps.

[Since they don't really check the pits enough and that would be a shameful way to die.]

[If Tim is shocked to discover that the elves surround their home with traps (he isn't), it doesn't show. He just nods, tiredly.]

I'll keep it in mind.

[The traps, and the potential to stop by, if he needs it. He doubts he will. The store's usually a safer bet, and less liable to ensnare him with some fucking...traps...apparently.]

I'll see you.

["He nods, tiredly" could be the title of Kravitz' autobiography. He feels that emotion more than he feels most emotions ever. It just happens like that.

But he won't stop him, giving Tim a little wave as he goes.]

Of course.

[And then he turns, taking Pepper further out in the beach for more practice.]

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[open] if you're the bird, whenever we pretend it's summer

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