happilyeverbeginning | So stay away from me / the beast is ugly (scrooge x magica)

He wondered if this was the first honest emotion he'd ever seen her share aside from various flavors of anger or annoyance. Perhaps that was why he took a minute to carefully consider what he was about to ask.

"Some of the expense receipts mentioned items for birds," he lied. "I take it they were for your familiar?"

It was - even more, it was one of the first honest emotions she had allowed herself at all in many a moon. The tears rolled down her cheeks, with her unable to wipe them away.

"A raven," she said in-between chokes, too torn up to even consider if he was fibbing. "He's a raven. My darling little Ratface..."

He reached into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief, dabbing carefully at the tears to mop them up.

"I promise you that I will do everything I can to help fix you or find some way to find your familiar without you being able to cast spells," he told her. "Do you remember anything about what might have been considered when you were trying to use your magic to find him?"

The fact that her familiar was a raven...he remembered her feet and wings.

"Could you have been thinking about transformation spells and ravens when this happened?"

His pity was almost painful. She didn't want to rely on him - or anyone. She sniffed, struggling to calm down - she'd shown too much weakness already.

"I was too frantic to concentrate on any one thing. I couldn't decide if I wanted him brought to me or me brought to him... I just... pulled at whatever I could grasp."

If she was thinking about bringing them together one way or another...

Oh, that thought wasn't pleasant. Particularly after her original request to...Gods, he didn't even want to think about that.

He pocketed his handkerchief for the moment, reaching out a hand to place it firmly on her shoulder.

"Okay," he said softly. "We'll figure this out. But I'm guessing because of your family's and fiance's behavior, that's why you don't want to call on them?"

At that, she huffed. "If I asked for their help, they'd want the marriage back on. I'd have to live my life exactly the way they want, down to the last detail, including... grandchildren."

The mere thought of laying with Rosolio made her ill, even if it could mean restoring her body.

Scrooge tapped his fingers thoughtfully.

"What you were thinking of to restore yourself. Did it say you had to give up your virginity specifically or did it have to be giving up something you wouldn't want to lose?"

Magica paused, trying to recall the wording from the book.

"... The translation literally said giving up a part of yourself... but. We both know not all literal translations mean literal."

"I don't know much about magic. I assume that has the potential to change the translation? I've seen some old alchemical texts that use metaphors where one would expect literal translations, but I don't know if that's the case with magic."

Another reason he'd been careful not to clean up the grammar and odd phrasing of some of the books he'd read for her.

"Magical metaphors do exist, unfortunately." She clicked her tongue. "We have our fair share of authors from olden times who thought they had great wit." But were really just a pain in the tailfeathers.

"If we go through the last book you read to me, I might be able to think it over clearer."

"I'll re-read it to you starting in the morning," he promised. "In the meantime, I think we should both get some rest so we can start with a fresh perspective in the morning."

It also would give her time to clean herself up and regather her dignity. He could give her that courtesy if nothing else.

She slowly nodded, but couldn't help but eye him a little. "I hate to admit this, but... you've got an impressive patience." She'd yelled at him, offered her body, and sobbed openly - and not once had he tried to flee.

"When you've got a bum leg that won't let you quickly leave uncomfortable situations, you learn patience or explode from frustration," he said with a little shrug. "Some days are easier than others though. We McDucks have infamous tempers though my baby sister inherited the bulk of it for this generation, I think."

So he would have fled for it if he could have - she was never paying him another compliment again. "Hmph. I suppose that really does mean you were meant for my job."

Scrooge chuckled. Some part of him probably would've wanted to flee, but he was a bit of a softie and would've stuck around regardless. Not that she was likely to believe him if he told her that.

"Perhaps it's like the preacher used to tell Mummy: When the gods close a door, somewhere they open a window."

"And they'll never warn you either way." Another huff.

"Very well. You're dismissed for the evening." Pause... "Leave the scone."

"Until tomorrow then."

On impulse, he lifted her hand (wing?) and kissed the sleeve covering it. He then rose from his seat, setting down the scone within easy reach for her and limped his way out of the room.

Magica blinked rapidly at the gesture - it was certainly the last thing she expected after all she'd thrown at him that evening. She was grateful he quickly left so he wouldn't see her blushing again.

She ate the scone (which was one of the tastiest treats she'd ever had, even compared to all the expensive sweets she used to gorge on) and went to bed. However, sleep didn't come easy to her, as that simple little gesture had her wondering what it would have been like if Scrooge had decided to take her up on her "offer"...

Scrooge himself was grateful for not just the warm brick in his bed to warm it to just the right temperature but also the hot bath that had been waiting for him. Dear gods, this place was spoiling him rotten.

As he curled up beneath the covers, he couldn't help imagining that the bed was warm from someone else's presence. It was a nice little dream even if it was impractical. He'd learned a long time ago that he'd never be seen as anything a young lady would find interesting. Perhaps that was one reason why he had felt a distant sort of hurt when Magica had proposed him sleeping with her: The only reason she'd made the offer was because of her limited options.

The morning came, and the servants were nervous, afraid that Magica's bad mood would continue. They walked on eggshells as they served her breakfast, and Clara stuck her head in Scrooge's room with his morning meal. "Good morning...?"

"Morning," he said from where he was already dressed and stretching his leg. He was cautious not to overwork it. The brick had kept things nice and toasty for quite a while, but it had eventually cooled and his leg was stiff as a result. "Everything all right?"

"Well, I haven't heard her screaming or destroying anything so far..." A little shrug. The day was still young, after all.

"Did she tell you anything?"

"She did, but I think it'd be best if I didn't spread it around. The last thing we need is to cause a misunderstanding where she throws me out and destroys the house," Scrooge said apologetically. "Still at least I now have some direction in what she's looking for.

"Did the staff enjoy the scones?"

Fair enough - but the fact that Scrooge was still here said a lot. She smiled, relieved. "Oh, they were delicious! Some of the cooks are trying to decipher the recipe for themselves!"

"Good luck to them. That recipe's been handed down in the O'Drake clan for generations."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject