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Magnus lies in bed like a felled tree, once magnificent and mighty, but now just a pathetic reminder of what used to be.
If he were a younger man, maybe he’d feel less gravity, less uncomfortable pressure pushing him down. It’s a nice thought, but it’s probably not the 10 years he’d gained in the span of a couple minutes that’re bringing him down. No, the problem runs a lot deeper than that. Where getting out of bed had been a struggle before, it now seems like a Herculean task: one he’s direly unequipped to handle. Magnus ends up staying in bed with Steven, the orb of water carefully wedged between several pillows, and he’s planning to stay that way for the rest of the night until his door slams open and a high, lilting voice calls out.
“Guess who?”
There’s a pause, and then: “Hel- lo? Anyone home?”
The comforter is tugged down to reveal one unwashed and groggy Magnus. Taako blinks, surprise and concern evident on his face.
“Magnus, my dude. You gotta come get Merle off my back. No time for sleeping in.”
“I wasn’t sleeping in.”
It’s the second time Taako looks utterly and completely thrown off by the other, and he blinks before giving the room a cursory glance. It’s a train wreck, very unlike Magnus, who needs everything to be in its place.
“Well, up and at ‘em! I need a break from the hair braiding. What’s next? Sitting around a campfire and singing Kumbaya?”
“Can’t get up.”
Though it doesn’t show in his voice, the elf is starting to grow concerned. (Not worried. Taako doesn’t do worried.) But, it’s very unlike Magnus to be lazy, and even less so for him to get sick. Something much bigger must be going on.
“What do you mean, you can’t get up?”
“I just….”
Magnus gestures fruitlessly, as if trying to get his troubles to physically manifest, so he can show his friend exactly what the problem is.
“I can’t… get up” is what comes out finally, and when Taako gives him a quizzical look, Magnus tries for a better answer, though his throat is growing tight.
“I can’t think of anything I’d want to do, even if I did get up, you know? I just… don’t have it in me. I don’t know how to get up”
Taako’s… not quite sure how to respond to this. All the time he’s known Magnus, he’s known him to rush forward, to take things on without a doubt, and to wholeheartedly take on any task presented. Hell, he’d once seen Magnus patiently concentrate on carving an especially intricate duck for hours on end. And yet, it seems like the man’s had enough, with the weight of things he can’t word on his broad shoulders.
“Well”, Taako tries, “most of us start by sitting up.”
Even though the elf probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet, and the human is roughly the size of a cart, for once, Taako is the one to extend a hand and Magnus is the one to take it. Sure he ends up using Mage Hand to pull the man up, but it’s infinitely worth it when Magnus sits, and smiles faintly.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“For what? I’m just restating the obvious here.”
The smile just widens into the usual, bright sincere one he wears as he’s ushered towards the bathroom. It’s times like this that Magnus is simply thankful for the friends he has.
“Now go shower. You smell like a wet dog.”