Chapter 2
“Welcome everybody,” Luna’s light, dreamy voice greets the group the next Monday afternoon.
“Let’s check who is here…”
Her gaze sweeps through the room. All of the members from the last session are present; Edward and Alec lounging fancily in their cocktail chairs, Baz having occupied the armchair again and Sherlock the hollywood swing, Peter and Hamlet in their beanbags. (“What a preposterous seat this is,” Hamlet utters, poking the beanbag. “Yet someway soothing is its being, methinks I shouldst have one in my chambers”)
Only Henry Montague is missing again.
“I see you remembered last week’s procedure and left your weapons on the garderobe.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes. Luna either fails at an attempt of small talk or believes them all to be imbeciles, but then most people are stupid so it is reasonable of her to assume so. Even if the people in the room don’t seem exactly average – the average person does not carry around swords for instance, then Cullen and the Pitch guy are extremely pale so the ordinary superstitious would have assumed vampires by now, even though it’s illogical; Cullen may have hidden in the same shady spot as last time, but Pitch looks comfortable in the sun. Well, as comfortable as any of the assembled appear, which isn’t much. That prince has zoned out again, and Lightwood does not show a light mood. (Where did his mind supply that bad joke from? Embarrassing. Must be John’s influence.) Sherlock shudders.
“I would say we begin by each sharing something that has happened in the last week and how we felt about it. Who wants to start?”
No response.
“Why don’t you start yourself,” grumbles Sherlock.
Luna smiles brightly. “Alright.”
Sherlock tries to disappear into his mind palace, but her irritating chatter about her imaginary creatures is infuriatingly distracting.
“Now, Sherlock, why don’t you go next?”
He shoots her a disapproving glance, then clears his throat.
“Ahem, well yes er… I have a new flatmate.”
“That’s great Sherlock!” Luna says. “Do you like them?”
“He’s an idiot obviousy, but then, most people are. But he goes on cases with me and doesn’t call me freak, so I’d say he’s fine. And he probably saved my life on our first case together.”
“That sound more than fine,” Peter remarks. He leans into Sherlock’s direction and wiggles his eyebrows in a weird way.
“Has he asked you out yet?” Alec asks.
“Meanst thou to woe him?” Hamlet exclaims, astounded. “But thou’rt both men!”
Baz props his hands on his knees as he leans forward in his chair.
“Listen Hamlet,” he says. “Just because it might not be common where and when you live, homosexual love is the same love as any other romantic love is. You might love women, but that doesn’t mean that all men do!”
“Well enough.” Hamlet actually understands very quickly. “So Sherlock feels the same for his companion as I feel for Ophelia?”
“It’s not-” Sherlock stutters. “Again, I consider myself married to my work and-”
“It’s all good,” Luna interrupts him calmly. “Live and let live.”
Sherlock huffs and reclines back into the hollywood swing, letting the group know that participation from his side is over.
Alec goes back and forth debating if his bad conscience on a lot of stuff is justified and Peter recounts a number of small complications from homework to his communication with a certain MJ.
“… and then Doctor Strange told me to just go and ask her what she feels, but…”
“Doctor who?” Sherlock says.
“It’s Strange, not the TV show.” Peter shakes his head. “How come you haven’t heard of him? Anyways…”
Baz plays Queen in his head while half-listening to the others “sharing” about their lives. As it is his turn, he snaps out of his trance long enough to convey that “nothing happened” and then lets Hamlet continue and lament about his anguish.
“What’s the ill in grief, mother?” the troubled prince moans. “’Why seems it so particular with thee,’ thou sayst! Yet is it not thou that seems particular, never even shedding as much as a tear for thy passed love?” And so on.
Luna and Peter are the only ones still paying attention.
“I keep thinking of my girlfriend,” Edward says. “Well, my ex actually. I left her a few months ago, but I know that a part of my mind will always think of her.”
“It seems that she is still very important to you,” Luna supplies. “What had you decide to leave her in the first place?”
“I wasn’t good for her,” Edward says.
Luna raises her eyebrows.
“No, seriously, being with me, that wasn’t good for her. I pulled her into a, let’s say, unhealthy milieu. She may love me now, but I won’t burden her with the consequences.”
“Don’t you think you can leave it up to her to decide whether she wants to live her life with you?” Luna inquires. “I mean, by leaving now, you don’t even give her a choice to love you.”
“I know her choice,” Edward says darkly. “She would stay with me. What a fool.”
“Do you know it, though?” Luna digs. “Maybe she sees good in you that you can’t find yourself. We never know exactly what other people think of us – the best we can do to find out is to ask. It’s not like we can read their thoughts”
“No, that’s really the problem, I can’t read hers…” Edward murmurs.
Baz rolls his eyes. Oh, come on Cullen, let’s face it, you’ve got commitment issues, he thinks.
“It’s not commitment issues,” Edward states.
Baz jumps in his chair.
Luna smiles at Edward empathically. “The most important thing is that you’re here, willing to think about it. The right answer will come.”
Crowley, did Cullen just read my thoughts? Baz eyes Edward, who distinctly looks away.
Can you hear me think? Baz mentally demands.
Edward averts Baz’s stare and looks at Luna, who now suggests they do a pathworking meditation to relax. “You can find a comfortable position in your chair, or lay on the ground if you’d like. I’ve got blankets over here.”
Luna gracefully hops off the box she was sat on. She opens it, revealing an assortment of wool blankets in pastel tartan colours.
Can. You. Hear. Me. Think. Baz’s stare at Edward could definitely be classified as creepy. If not for the fact that the latter very much read thoughts. That weighs up in creepiness.
Edward contiunes to ignore Baz and watches Alec accept a rose-coloured blanket with a disapproving glance. The blanket indeed forms a quite extreme contrast to Alec Lightwood’s black leather outfit.
Don’t fret darling, that’s a nice and manly colour, Baz thinks. I’ve got a pink suit too, well, it’s rosé actually…
His best efforts failing him, Edward escapes a small chuckle.
Crowley, I knew it, you read thoughts!
Edward sighs deeply, and nods.
That’s kinda creepy dude, you know that? Wait, can you talk in my mind too?
“What?! No!” Edward exclaims.
Luna, who was handing him a green-orange blanket, backs away. “Oh sorry dear, I could have asked,” she apologises.
“Ah, sorry I didn’t mean you,” Edward explains hastily, “I just had a – er – inner monologue.” He accepts the blanket and lays down on the floor.
“I understand, that happens to all of us.” Luna nods. “Let’s see if you can let it go for now as you follow my voice into this relaxation… you can close your eyes now.”
Most of them do. Baz doesn’t. Sherlock puts his hands together in a praying-like position.
Luna continues. “I will now guide you through a relaxation yourney. To begin with, let’s imagine you are standing on a beach, looking out to the sea. Your toes are buried in the warm sand. You smell the salty air. You can hear the gentle sounds of the waves. Somewhere in the distance, a big shrake is on the hunt, its beautiful spikey spine illuminated by the sunlight. Anyway.
“As you watch the scene, you feel a sense of calm wash over you…”
There must be sedatives in the salty air, Baz thinks. Thanks to his vampire senses, he can feel Edward’s low chuckle from the vibration in the ground.
It’s so creepy that you do this. Can you hear stuff from everyone’s minds in here?
No reaction from Cullen, just a “you turn around to leave the see behind you, and now face a forest. I love forests, they’re usually brimming with wondrous creatures,” from Luna. Somebody sighs.
Right, you can’t talk in my mind. Just nod or shake your head, telepath.
A nod.
“As you step into the forest, you see a group of Bowtruckles greeting you from an ash tree. One of them hops onto your shoulder. His name is Vikij. He will accompany you on this journey.”
Is Luna as weird in her head as she is in real life?
Edward grins.
I get it, I probably don’t want to know.
What sort of spell are you using? Is it a spell? I can’t feel any magic around here.
Brows furrowed, Edward shakes his head.
So you’re not magickal? What are you?
Right, I’ll have to guess. Uuh, accidentally conjured demon? Astrological guru?
Edward laughs loudly.
“Now, I know that some people do foolishly believe that wrackspurts don’t exist just because they can’t see them, but I can assure you that is nonsense!” Luna objects.
Edward looks at Baz and mouths the words “SHUT UP.”
No escape now, I’m afraid. Wait- are you? A demon? Or a guru?
No answer.
Alchemist?
No answer.
Bitten by a radioactive spider? Accident in a neuron experiment? AI?
“You feel the soft moss under your feet and warm sunrays hit your face. Fairy spirits glow in the air. You make your way deeper into the forest. It seems as there is a greater force pulling you there”
Hamlet snores faintly.
Edward Cullen, I will mentally screamsing Disney Frozen’s Let it go until you answer me!
Are you a ghost?
No answer.
LET IT GO, LET IT GOO, CAN’T HOLD IT BACK ANYMO-O-ORE, LET IT GO, LET IT GO
Edward shakes his head.
Is that a “no please stop singing” or a “no I’m not a ghost”? Nod your head if you’re not a ghost.
Nodding.
Are you any of the other things I mentioned? You will answer – MY SOUL IS SPIRALLING IN FROZEN FRACTALS ALL AROUND, JUST ONE THOUGHT CRYSTALISES LIKE AN ICY BLAAST-
HOLD ON – icy? Are you a vampire? But that’s impossible, vampires don’t do that – or do they? Are you a vampire?
“You step into a clearing. The air is foggy, but refreshing on your skin. Somebody stands in the centre already. It’s your higher self. You may ask them a question now.”
Alec snores loudly.
You know I will sing if you don’t answer. Are you a vampire?
A nod.
Aleister Crowley.
“Energised from this encounter with your higher self, you set out to make your way back. As the forest clears, Vikij leaves you for today and rejoins his bowtruckle friends.
“You once again smell the fresh salty air of the sea. Breathe in deeply, and now again concentrate on the room around you. Feel your feet, your hands and arms… When you are ready, open your eyes.”
Sherlock opens his eyes only to roll them disapprovingly. He had used the time in his mind palace to enumerate the most probable ways of killing the assembled – for protection reasons, obviously. He should probably also think of ways to save them from their possible demise.
At least he can now review his hypothesis with further observation.
Sherlock watches as Peter shakes Hamlet and Lightwood awake. Hamlet wakes immediately – strong battle instincts. Alec only startles when Peter strongly kicks him against the shins. Curious. Shouldn’t he have fighting instincts too? Another possibility would be that he chooses to fight and therefore is not on his guard when sleeping… Or he was just really tired, he hears John’s voice in his head. Stupid.
“I’m glad we all shared this second meeting together,” Luna chimes. “I look forward to next week.”
As the group leave this monday’s session, Baz and Edward can still be heard chattering as they walk away together, heads stuck together.
“So you can actually eat real food? I’m envious!”
“I know, that’s handy. But you sparkle in the sun? Well, the bloodsucking aside, that’s a fantastic gay icon look!”