unpocoloco | Daybreak IC Inbox

He laughs, a faint breathy noise of relief. It worked. She can't lose him now. With luck, never again. His hand presses to his chest, holding in the light and that feeling with it.

"I won't be going farther than that besides on missions," He promises. Not willingly anyway. But his eyes trail to the desk drawer, all those plans to run. They dart to her and away.

"About... how things went before. In America. It won't happen again. I... was afraid. I'd never gotten that far before. I've been a real jerk to you these past monthes."

He hangs his head a little.

She's quiet at that. She wasn't expecting an apology--and he's not really giving one, in a sense. It's more an explanation than anything else. An acknowledgement--but not one that she's sure is true. Or if it was, then she's been something of a jerk back to him.

"Maybe." It's barely an acknowledgement in return. Not even an agreement.

It's a hard thing to admit to the things on her mind, and so after another moment of quiet contemplation, she turns instead to the desk and pulls it open. The marker is placed back inside, but she doesn't close the drawer again. She slides the papers around, looking over the notes and plans. So many crazy ideas... all to get back to Santa Cecilia.

"You've been at this a while." Her voice comes quieter. "When we first talked, I thought... this was some phase. That seeing me again reminded you of our family, and that going back was some spur of the moment idea." She hadn't realized how many attempts he'd already made, just to get back to them.

That "maybe" could mean any number of things. It keeps his head bowed.

At least until she pulls open that desk drawer. He starts, eyes going wide again and hands going out, but he freezes when it's clear he's too late. Were it with him, his heart would be pounding in his ears. She pushes through it all, his failures, his betrayals against her. The only thing that can make him tear his eyes away is the compulsion to watch her face too. What's she thinking now? Is she angry? Disgusted? Her quiet words don't illuminate. He rubs at his arm.

"It took a while to get out of the Outlands. I've only been back on Earth maybe a year or less. I got a few jobs. Under the table of course." And he still lost them. "Saved up. Tried going by boat... by plane a few times. A private one. Hopped some borders to try things out elsewhere." A whole lot of plans that had gone terribly.

His voice gets quieter. "In the Outlands... or maybe just my kind, you have to hang on to something. It has to be something you really want. I told you I was heading home before I died. It just made sense to hang on to the both of you. Coco's my reason for still being here. I hardly think about anything else but her and you. But... I'm going to try and reign it in. I'll keep my promise."

She frowns at the mention of his promise. He's still so insistent on that. On the one hand, she's glad that he won't be running off in the middle of missions, leaving her to track him down and drag him back. That was painfully difficult the first time, and she doesn't want to relive it.

But on the other hand, he all but admits that their daughter is his reason for being here.

"And yet, you've kept all of this." He might promise that he'll rein it in, but she still knows what drives him. She closes the drawer quietly, careful not to catch any of the paper as she does. And she turns back to him, a softer expression on her face, but a confidence in her voice.

"Let's try this magic of yours again," she tells him as she heads for her seat on the floor again.

He winces.

"I--" His jaw shuts again. Whatever excuse he might have made, it would be a lie. He can't bear to throw his plans away, in truth. Even as he tries not to act on them.

He expects her to be unhappy about that. He's certainly guilty enough. But that's not what he gets.

Confused but more than willing to be obedient and listen, he joins her again on the floor, as they were. He takes several breaths to steady himself, empty ribcage moving like he's still has lungs. That rune is there on display. Once again he tries to draw on that power settled in his soul.

As she sees him prepare to start, Imelda reaches her hands out, gently taking his metacarpals up in hers. There's no amount of embarrassment or fluster or even wariness in her expression this time, only warm determination.

"I want you to focus on me this time. Don't look away. And if you start to think of something unpleasant, think of Coco instead. Imagine what you'll do when you see her again, when she goes to give you the biggest hug..."

Her hands take up his, soft and gentle around his bones, but still grounding. He grips her hands back, phantom heart racing.

In that moment as she speaks, his power lights. Where he usually keeps his eyes closed, now they fix on her, first just out of surprise, but then in following request. His breath picks up, panic growing automatically, fear visible in his eyes. The light of him flickers like a dying bulb.

Think of Coco. Not of the pain, not of teeth and monsters. Think of Coco-- he laughs, if only because it was always the other way around in his mind, him running to her. Wrapping his arms around tight, kissing her face, her head. Big or small, it made no difference if he could just hold his daughter. Their daughter. He opens his eyes to her again, tears in the corners.

Before he even knows it, he's whole. The hands in hers are rough not from being porous bone but from being calloused guitarist fingers. He holds on tight, breath shuddering, flickers still going off under his skin, but slowly, oh so slowly, they ease, until all that's left is the faint tremble of him. A fragile smile forms upon him, turned on her. There's a gratitude in it.

Edited 2019-04-09 12:20 (UTC)

He smiles at her, and she smiles back, forgetting herself in light of their success and the look on his face. For a brief moment, her urge to kiss him is strong. But only for that moment.

Her smile falters as she realizes where her thoughts have gone. It comes back a moment later, but only after her gaze had dropped to their hands. Only after she's forced that feeling back down to somewhere safe and unseen.

"Magic at its core," she starts, looking at his hands and feeling the calluses on those fingers, "is just willpower. If you want something bad enough--if you want it more than you're afraid of it, then you can do almost anything."

She smiles back and his heart soars. The tears spill and trace down his face. He lets them fall in favor of holding her hands. The terror isn't gone. He still feels sick inside. He's hunched with the energy spent to force this. But she's here before him and Coco is here in his heart and that's what matters.

She looks away as she speaks, but his eyes are even more fixed upon her as she does. He feels a little breathless, hearing that. He's sure he's heard something like it before, maybe long ago, probably met with some teasing question of why everyone couldn't just fly. But here and now, it sinks in deep.

"Do... do you think... that's how I woke up? Because I wanted to go home...?"

Edited 2019-04-09 14:59 (UTC)

"Maybe." She doesn't know for sure. It seems like such a far-fetched idea, but... "Anyone is capable of magic. This whole idea that only mage families can do magic is--" She lets go of his hand to make a dismissive gesture off to the side. Her hand comes back to his a moment later.

"But maybe being in the Outlands gave you that spark you needed, and everything since then has been you. Maybe that's why... this doesn't last forever. There has to be something driving you. Something to hope for. Otherwise, the magic fades." And it's like he said before--about his primos that didn't make it.

It doesn't escape her thoughts that by that logic, she almost killed him. Her smile fades again, and this time it doesn't return. "...I should have realized sooner what taking that from you would do." If he hadn't been so set on going against her wishes to see Coco regardless... He might not be here at all.

He wouldn't be put out if it wasn't true. Having greater magic or none was never some signifier of worth for him. The more he riled the mages he'd met back then the more content he was to be without magic. They knew magic, he knew guitar. And with what Imelda says, maybe it really was just that matter of dedication and time.

His own smile slips as she speaks of fading. With the idea only just in his head, the double meaning to it hadn't yet hit. If this is true, they lost hope. His primos, he could've done something, he could've... somehow...

(He knows in his heart there was nothing more he could do. A temporary cheer up was only that.)

She takes it a step further and he shakes himself from that. "Wait, wait, no. You didn't know. I don't know! We're just guessing. And you were looking after Coco besides..." He shakes his head. "I was already breaking apart before I got here. It's not your fault."

Edited 2019-04-23 01:36 (UTC)

"Héctor." She frowns at him, her brow furrowing as she sighs. "You don't need to defend me. I'm not so proud that I can't admit when I... might have made a mistake. Whether I knew it or not, if you had taken my threats to heart, that could have been the end of you."

It's a thought that twists in her stomach to think about, but it only makes her more sure that what they're doing now is right. If his wish is to see Coco again, then... Then they need to keep that goal in reach.

"...We'll get you home. One way or another. Just promise me you won't lose sight of that."

He flinches a little at his name, anticipating some kind of scolding. He wants to defend her. But put like that, he's not sure if he can argue it.

His eyes drop and he considers it, the chance of going to dust right there, leaving Imelda standing shocked. It wouldn't have happened. He'd never give up on Coco. He rose from the dead for their little girl.

But he's not without weakness is he? Not anymore.

"Back there, that- that won't happen again," he tries to promise. "I-I'll take it. If that ever happens again. I won't forget. I won't let it make me forget. Even if it-" His body flickers, a small warning against the memory before he wields Coco's memory against it, eyes squeezing shut as he focuses. Her laugh, her little hands... "-hurts." His magic holds up, if with his body sagging a bit more.

"But I don't want you to blame yourself," He says, like that moment didn't just happen. "It's not your fault I'm like this. Never was, never will be. If anything, you only gave me more time. Coco isn't the only one I wanted to see. "

Coco isn't the only one I wanted to see.

His words catch her by surprise in a way that... maybe they shouldn't. They've talked so much about how much he wants to see Coco, and all the ways she's denied or delayed him. It had never really crossed her mind that she was still in his thoughts for all of that time. That she had been part of his drive to return home.

It picks sharply at a long buried insecurity, an old thought that maybe he hadn't cared enough about her to come home. It touches her one way and embarrasses her in another. When the surprise fades after a moment, she looks away for something else to focus on.

"Well... You won't have to worry as much. With Coco. I'm not standing in your way anymore. We just need to be careful about what we tell her for now. And we need to get all of this under control."

He notices she looks away. Probably a line crossed there. He'll need to be more careful.

He smiles weakly at her assurances. She'd promised seeing his daughter but hearing it more doesn't hurt. He bobs his head. Getting this under control was already set in the terms. And being careful what is said, though that gives him pause.

"What are you going to tell her?" Not 'we', but 'you'. Any other way doesn't occur. "Are you going to tell her I'm here? I just... I don't want her to think that I..."

Abandoned her, which he did. That he doesn't love her, which could never happen.

"I... haven't figured that out yet." She sighs, the sound of it weighing on her. "If I tell her now, that would make things complicated. She'll want to visit, and I don't know what to tell her yet."

But she does glance back at him again, as if sensing his worries in that unfinished sentence. "...I won't keep her in the dark for too long. She'll know. Just give me time to figure it out."

He bobs his head. He wonders if she sees it on his face, the quick but violent war in him, how badly he wants her here in his arms facing down how very afraid he is of the dangers he could pose to her. His breath goes unsteady in that brief moment, but he otherwise maintains composure.

"Of course. I trust you," He says quietly. His mouth presses. He ponders for himself. "I... usually tell people I'm sick. It goes pretty far. Not the most inaccurate thing. I don't know if it would keep her away though."

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