The beginning of a beautiful friendship

[hellonspectacles]

Palamedes has been in Darrow for two weeks, and the days have begun to blend together. Some days, he stays up so late that it’s nearly early, other times he rises before the sun. Most days he works on theorems that have begun to wallpaper his apartment, or sips tea in Gideon’s kitchen, or surrounds himself with a citadel of books in some corner of the public library. Darrow has yet to give up its secrets, but Palamedes is still determined, and he often pontificates at Gideon about his latest theories. Sometimes he talks to the kitchen table instead, since it’s less likely to talk back.

“Warden, you need to get out more,” says the voice in his head—the one he thinks of as Camilla’s—as he paces his apartment restlessly. She’s right, of course. Camilla usually is. On impulse, he picks up his phone and texts one of the few people he actually knows in this strange city.

Mr. Darlington,

Do you like tea? I would be very interested in meeting up to learn more about these portal magicians of yours.

I promise, I’m slightly less of a raving lunatic these days, though my furniture may believe otherwise.

I look forward to your response,

Palamedes Sextus.

Comments

[more_magic]

When it seemed as though there wasn't much more to be done--Darrow explained to the best of his ability, his packet fetched from the train station and the contents enumerated on the walk from there to Chelsea Cloisters--Darlington had given Palamedes his number, half in hope of some future meeting and half out of some kind of insurance given how overwhelmed he'd seemed to be. There was a mystery to the other man, with all his talk of a different world than the one Darlington knows, but something that might develop into a kinship, too; he hadn't forgotten the pointed excitement in his expression as they'd talked about liminal spaces and pocket universes, of creating bubbles and dropping anchors where once there'd been perhaps nothing before. It reminded him of everything he loved about magic, about Lethe, about lifting the curtain away from the mundane world and getting a look at something spectacular, and whatever the differences between his home and Palamedes', that was perhaps enough commonality to serve as a foundation for something lasting.

The subsequent lack of contact over the next couple weeks is there at the back of his head, a niggling thought that can't quite resolve itself into a worry, but when his phone buzzes and he sees the oddly formal missive filling the screen, Darlington finds himself both excited and oddly relieved. Where some see lunacy, others perceive genius, he replies. Admittedly, I'm not sure where the opinions of furniture rank in that. Tea sounds great, and the the conversation, even better. I'm in the city now, free this afternoon--let's meet around 1?

He'd expected they'd meet at a cafe, but when Palamedes replies inviting him to his apartment, Darlington's more than happy to accept. He might have gotten used to the fact that the secrecy of the Ancient Eight and of Lethe meant little to nothing in Darrow, but there's still a comfort in discussing them and their histories behind closed doors. He parks around the corner from Chelsea at the appointed time and heads towards the building and up the stairs, finding the door to Palamedes' apartment with ease. He raises one hand, and knocks.