ruinsprofessor

It you don't disturb the sigils, you should be safe to enter.

[Solomon's voice is still quiet. He very obviously does not tell Raine she's wrong. Instead he lifts his hands, looks down at them; he can almost see the shape of them, in the way his soul drifts off his fingers. Being sucked away. His soul-gem is a ring, and it seems more intense than the rest.]

The circle is something I was developing for Bakura's ghosts.

[To keep them in the right plane while they stitched them together. The fact that it's working somewhat is unexpected--a desperate move. He looks up then, his mouth tilted ironically.]

Not quite the right tool, I'm afraid. Impractical for me, in any case.

[He would never have thought he'd be able to see this happening before he was whisked away; though perhaps he's also the only one who could have. He's acted as far as he can, and already he knows it isn't enough. He only has a few minutes, if that.

[... It isn't enough.]

[Carefully, very carefully, Raine steps into the circle, placing her feet in what spaces of bare floor are left. Her mouth trembles; she forces it to stop, even though Solomon can't see it.]

[For a moment she just stares at him, trying to memorize the shape of his face, the slant of his smile. She knows him so well it shouldn't be necessary: but anything can slip away, in an unguarded moment. Finally she slips her arms around him, curling her hands into his waistcoat like that alone could hold him there.]

Do you have any idea how long...?

[It can't be long. He wouldn't have told her to hurry if there was no need.]

[Solomon leans into Raine's embrace, arms folding around her as if he can warm himself adequately through her body-heat alone--as he always does, lately. He's still gripping the radio in one hand; it stays clenched in his grasp, resting by her shoulder.]

Not long. I'm feeling--incredibly sleepy.

[He can well believe that without the benefit of seeing his own soul, or the circle, he would have drifted away without the chance to say goodbye. And then never remembered. He rests his head on hers with a sigh, forcing his eyes open.]

My investigation notes should go to Pepper. There's some patterns in Dust and Lucid movement the police force would be interested in. And the rest of my research should go to Bakura--he won't have seen this circle.

[He hesitates for a moment.]

You may as well give it to Stark, as well. Maybe he can create a technological stop.

[Or reverse the process, if anyone wants to go home.]

[She is not going to cry on him. She is not. Raine tucks her head against his shoulder and fixes the feel of him in her memory, everything from the curve of his arms to the soft blurred-shadow edges of his mana.]

Understood. I'll look after your research. And the matter of Bakura, as well-- it will be more difficult without your magic, but there may yet be something I can do.

[This all is practicalities, which are easy enough to keep herself steady for, but Raine's voice cracks a little, unbidden, as she goes on.]

I'm-- aware the odds don't favor us, but after all, we were both drawn to this world in the first place. If there is a way to connect our worlds without jeopardizing everything we've fought for, I'll find it.

[This isn't fair, but-- at least she has this moment. Raine is painfully aware that most of them don't get even the chance to say good-bye.]

[Solomon laughs softly.]

If a band of disorganised worshippers can manage to summon their demonic gods to my world, I can't imagine why you shouldn't be able to connect ours.

[It isn't something he's considered. No memories; no future. But Raine's statement warms his chest, and he clutches her a little tighter, exhaling and inhaling. His eyes have slipped shut without him noticing. He forces them open again, his words a little mumbled.]

Da's portrait. It's in the pocket of my coat.

[Across the room.]

You may as well put it on the mantle, with Bakura's knickknacks.

[They'd been arranged there with some degree of ceremony, after the wedding.]

And--my father's cane. Give it to Adrien.

[Raine knows the history behind the cane; inlaid with platinum and palladium, an object for channeling magic entirely by chance. A family heirloom for generations, and the only thing Solomon had left with his mortal family's crest on it--a horse against a backdrop of a cross in a field of wheat, all stylised. The way pressing the crest unlocks the handle to become a hidden blade, once broken on the day Da died, now whole only due to the Dreaming.

[His eyelids have drooped again, his body starting to relax perilously in that manner of someone near to sleep.]

Edited (an added detail) 2016-07-10 09:12 (UTC)

Exactly so.

[It seems simple when he puts it that way, not the undertaking it surely will be. To retain her memories, let alone to find a way to cross worlds. And yet-- hope.]

[She could desperately use some hope.]

The portrait; your cane. All right. I'll ensure he knows the meaning of it. Solomon, stay awake.

[Raine's holding him close enough she can feel the laxness taking over him, can anticipate that it won't be all that much longer. But-- even a little bit. Just a little bit more time.]

I wish--

[Wishing is useless.]

If nothing else, I would hope some part of you can remember that I love you.

[Perhaps it's foolish. It's emotion, pure and simple, winning out over cold logic for once. Still. Any of these words may be the last she says to her husband, and that sentiment is important.]

I can't ... I can't.

[It's mumbled, slurred, barely awake enough for Raine's plea to register. He would, if he could. He can still 'see' his soul sluicing away, faster now as though it only needed enough speed to get past the half-effective ward. Not enough time. He still has something to say.]

Raine--

[Solomon manages to grip her tighter still, his forehead resting against the top of hers. His hand rises, trembling with the effort, his thumb grazing the line of her chin and cheek, his fingers brushing her ear all the way to its pointed tip.]

I love you.

[It's whispered, almost breathed, like a final sigh he still can't quite believe.]

[This of all things nearly breaks her: the final giving-up of his formal pet-name for her, so rarely conceded. Raine's eyes sting, and her hold on him tightens in return, almost to the point of pain, an unspoken plea in the trembling of her hands.]

[Don't go.]

I know. I know.

[She almost hates the sound of it, small and desperate as she turns her face toward his hand.]

[She's known longer than he has, only waiting for him to find the words himself. Now any joy at it is overshadowed, made bittersweet.]

Solomon. I'll remember you.

[It's all she can do.]

[Solomon doesn't feel the pain; he's too far gone in the fog of Dreaming. He hears Raine's words from some distance, too far to react--but he hears them, and his body relaxes fully into unintended sleep. Then between one breath and another he's gone, the radio gripped in his hand falling to the floor with a clatter.

[And yet it's only the radio that falls.]

[With Solomon gone Raine overbalances, falls to her knees. Now, only now, does she allow herself to weep, quietly, shoulders shuddering with how desperately she's trying not to.]

[They'd been wed less than a month. She'd always assumed it would be her that lost him -- even had they a lifetime, she would likely outlive him. That should make the loss easier to bear, having been prepared for it in some little way, but it doesn't. Nor does it make her want that lifetime any less.]

[Raine can't say quite how long she stays there, hands pressed to her mouth, fingers interlaced so tightly that her wedding ring bites into her skin. Eventually she has to get up. Keeliai keeps moving, and injuries won't wait for one woman's grief, and it isn't as though staying in his laboratory will let her pretend Solomon's still there. He's gone, though not by his choice, and Raine will carry on.]

[When it occurs for her to look for it, she can't find his ring, the sage-leaves engraved with a fine line of Gaeilge around the inside vanished as thoroughly as he is.]

[It's better that way, she thinks. It lets her hope.]

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