001 x Audio x Day 86

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Hmmm.

[The strange device around his wrist has been studied as thoroughly as he can manage. Figuring out its secrets is the first step, Robert feels sure, in understanding what happened. He knows this isn't Columbia, and it isn't New York, and it isn't the interim space.

He can actually feel the wind on his skin, the sun in his eyes, and just his own weight. It's the strangest sensation after four years of... nothing.

The thing around his wrist is important, he's sure of that. So is the lighthouse he's found his way to, ignoring all other buildings at first. He's still a few yards away from it, his attention going from the heavy object -- rather like a voxophone, he's discovered -- on him and the looming structure in front of him.]

This is a most curious effect. [The voice is a calm, rolling English accent.

After a certain point, even he hadn't understood what the implications of his work would be. He had known he had to return what was stolen, but he had only glimpsed what that would cause. Was this another layer of that? Wholly possible. But why was he alone? Because, he reminded himself, he had effectively undone everything. A harrowing realization.

Well. He may as well use the device if it's going to be attached to him. Of course, he has no idea that it transmits rather than simply recording.]

Unknown date. [Best to make note of everything for later scientific review.]

I have found myself in a strange place, alone. [A pause and a sound almost like a sigh. Then, he's all business again.]

Is this a sign of failure or success? What are the variables that make this world different? I suppose time will provide me answers.

( v i d e o | day 86 | afternoon )

[freewheeling]

It's difficult to paint one's nails when you've got a camera attached to your wrist, you know. [ The brush hovers just outside of the feed, threatening to drip purple paint everywhere, and Magnus' eyes - glamoured unless you have the inherent ability to see those golden cat eyes - blink sleepily at the unfashionable wedge locked to his skin. But suddenly the mood shifts. He grins, teeth sharp and very, very white. ] I'm a little confused as to why actually. I know I'm particularly fabulous but I'm not sure we could really drum up a whole cast for the next big reality show. Some of you are clearly Mundanes and while I find you very charming it's not like you're going to burst into a shower of champagne any time soon. Unless you're dreaming - which by the way, some of you obviously need psychiatric help. If I find a couch big enough I'll open my doors. But what's the point in filming all those hours of pointless activity in between?

[ His fingers let go of the brush for a second, letting it hover long enough for him to run a hand through his thick hair. It's immediate, the illusion shifting from him like running water. To the humans he changes - Magnus Bane the High Warlock of Brooklyn is tired of pretending. And so he gives the floating brush a grin, eyes flashing like a headlight has been shone to them. This is who he is. This place is clearly a melting pot for specific creatures and he's crippling himself by pretending to be normal. His derision is a ploy after all. Pretend to be bored and the villain usually shows his hand. It's something he learnt from a number of impudent but beautiful Herondales.

And Magnus has shown himself to the Mundanes before, if they react badly he can just - well, brood fashionably he supposes. On his psychiatric couch.

His magic doesn't last long though, not with the way the brush then shudders and drops to the floor, his spark dying out. Magnus blinks and then his features shift suddenly, frustration and anger mingling on his handsome face. ] Oh for the love of Kim Kardashian why is this happening?

[ His gaze narrows as he regards the bright splash of colour on the floor. It's been on and off since he got here. He had assumed that the trauma of being kidnapped had something to do with it. And then Alec had shown up and Magnus had other things to think about. Namely the shattered pieces of his sticky-taped heart. But he's not going there. ] All right, spill. Who's messing with my mojo?

[ Another pause. ] I need a drink.