Magnus Servus

Find your inspiration. Make something that matters.

[magnus-servus]

Lavender Exploration

@tomasdevisser

Magnus had told Tomas that he’d be stopping by his place of business, his ‘desert bar’ he thought it had been called although he wasn’t sure what kind of a bar didn’t have drinks. Some drinks had chocolate in them now, maybe that would be something offered at a desert bar. He wasn’t sure. He stood outside of it, looked over the storefront. It looked as he expected it would, given he didn’t know what to expect. Like a pastry shop with a fancier name really. He gently opened the door and looked around as he walked towards the counter with a grin on his face. “Surprise.”

[magnus-servus]

Lost to Time

[magnus-servus]

claudiamrshall‌:

“you’d find it hard to guess what i do choose to believe.” for who alone had thought apoxyomenos was good enough to sculpt. certainly not the artist to which it had been attributed. but she was beyond claiming the rights to her work, it would only call her own being into question now. still she sipped her wine, let her companion lead wherever she might feel like following. “is there no time left for you to achieve your goal?” then again, she’d had hundreds and had resigned herself to the arbiter of the medium not the artist. “or are you of the mind that no amount of hard work can trump talent.”

her eyes flashed, something dark and old, intelligence cut right under the surface. a cup of wine was not enough to dull her sense, the way it was seeming to on her companion. “what questions should be asked of you? should i like to know where you’re from?” of course that talk was so small, all she really cared for was the work or lack there of. “what sculpture would i attribute to you?”

"I think I’ve made all the art I’m able to make for a lifetime. I may look young but I’m an old... soul. Sometimes you just know when you’ve completed your masterpiece and that things will never look up from there, artistically. However seeing your face does unite something inside of me that makes me yearn for stone and a pick which to immortalize it in.” He sipped from his cup and continued to admire her across the table.

“Well those are complicated questions. I’m from Rome and my greatest work isn’t a sculpture, it is more of a...place.” He was being intentionally vague. He couldn’t tell her those pieces of his life. He couldn’t reveal himself as immortal. He didn’t know if she would react with horror, with disgust. He couldn’t put her in that position so early anyways. “But now I’m here and my works are there and its a different lifetime now. I look forward more to the future and to getting to know you. So where might you have come from, what is your grandest accomplishment?”

[magnus-servus]

tomasdevisser​:

“Well.. it should still be fun,” Tomas softly added, sounding like a five year old with such big dreams he wanted to reach. This was all his life ever had, food, cooking, the kitchen, money had never been a focus when this was already his way of life. Tomas fidgeted with the way he was stared up and down, almost afraid and second guessing his question for perhaps being too invasive. But as an answer came in, he relaxed, an instant connection perhaps even to just the simplest of links. “Italians know their food,” Tomas would’ve appreciated the opportunity to do a food tour down that area of Europe. “Uh, not much on the actual menu, no.. but come visit anytime - the address is on the card - and.. I could make you a custom dish, whatever you feel like.”

“We certainly do. But sometimes it can be a little much. Theres so much seasoning and flavor that the actual flavor can get lost sometimes.” He turned away from the painting they had been in front of for their conversation before he turned back to Tomas. “I shall be seeing you around soon then. I’ll be sure to stop by and you can show me more of your lavender secret recipes.” He adjusted his coat and walked off after placing the business card he had been given earlier into his pocket with a final look over it.

[magnus-servus]

miguelxcardosa‌:

It was like watching a man fight with a mosquito. Magnus kept waving his hands around, trying to avoid Miguel, and all it did was make the man want to bite him more. He was pulled in and a chomp was given in front of his face, nearly scraping against his nose with a glistening smile. “Yes, yes, yes! It was like this, my trojan! Remember, remember. It will come to you! Like you came to me!” His tongue flung out, bitten half-way in amusement as his body wiggled against him, hips testing with a brush before pulling back. “The party! I loved it. You loved it! I know you! It is in the eyes. The face! It is not the same! Your eyes! Always! Beauty,” he cooed as his forehead rested atop of his, eyes not unblinking as they stared into the others. “Do you see? Look, look, look, my trojan. See me! I am yours!”

Magnus’s eyes went wide. “No. There is no way that we were ever involved. I would have remembered someone of your.... personality.” He wasn’t sure though. He had some dark times with some festive people. But he was certain he’d remember someone with Miguel’s demeanor. Even in his younger years he would have been offput but how up front Miguel was. But maybe under a full moon while under Bacchus’s blessing, perhaps there might have been a situation where he would have been in a similar crowd as Miguel if he also worshipped Bacchus, but he wasn’t sure how they would have been intimate.

[magnus-servus]

Cocktails and Cocked Guns

[magnus-servus]

damionkillgrave‌:

Damion raised his brows as he looked away. Damn, touched on a sore point, note taken! “To be fair, what did you want out of him?” he went on as he still played with his drink, trying to come up with the courage to take a sip. Was getting drunk worth sacrificing his palette? “Not surprising,” he mumbled about the missing girl as he took a sniff of the drink before redoing his response with a glance over at him, “Again, sorry to hear it. You know… better luck out there. Chin up.” That ought to do it before he bit the bullet, taking a sip, instantly opening up his mouth to have it pour back out. “Uhg, I’ll take the Lysol…” The glass was pushed slowly away from him, napkin taken as it ran over his mouth, ordering a beer in a bottle, the safest bet at any bar. Hadn’t he learned that by now? “No, thank you.–No offense,” he added. “All I need is a bad bond to break, and good-bye cruel world. Know anyone sketchy for the job?”

Magnus considered the question. “I guess I wanted someone willing to put their everything into the art and not someone complacent.” Magnus watched him toy with his drink. “Cut the foreplay, man. Drink it or don’t. And yeah, I appreciate it. I mean I’ll probably never see her again but who knows.” Magnus rolled his eyes a bit when Damion spit out the drink. “For a man who is tired of living you sure do have high standards.” He finished his drink and ordered another one. Life was long and things could be worse than a bad tasting drink in a bad smelling bar. “Well, you could free me of Patricia. Take over her bond or something, I don’t really care what happens to her. She doesn’t take the art seriously anymore so I don’t take her seriously anymore. Just haven’t found anyone else and nothing bad has happened to her.”

[magnus-servus]

birdiedrke‌:

“portraits of people. a thousands years and all you’ve got are people?” time would tell, she’d get her hands on the warehouse keys or the scanned paintings and then she’d see what he’d been up to all this time. it was a genuine curiosity, nothing more spectacular. she wanted to know what he’d been up to. his answer to her question finally caused a smile to form on her face, “lucius. very nice.” first names were always vague, but they sent up flares when given other information. magnus, for all his protests, remembered more than he pretended to. some great love, there would be tracks somewhere. “i’m trying to make the situation mutually beneficial, come on.” better functioning human was boring, but she figured if he could operate a smart phone he had a leg up in the world. “i’m introducing you to the wonders of tinder and all i asked was a name.”

"People are interesting sometimes. I don’t know what you expect me to say here. I’m not some several thousand year old enigma shrouded in mystery that needs to be uncovered. I’m just an old man with some paintings.” That was mostly true anyways. “I don’t see how knowing who I bedded with nearly two thousand years ago could be in any way beneficial to you but sure,” he paused. He sipped from his cup and looked around before continuing. “Tinder? I’m not into fire. Was almost burned at the stake in the dark ages. An old man from a town lived a little longer than expected and called me out for not aging over the course of 50 years. It took a lot of will to escape the guards.”

[magnus-servus]

Lost to Time

[magnus-servus]

claudiamrshall‌:

she had to do nothing but sit and wait while he gets new drinks, if some kind of complicated thoughts are supposed to be running through her head, they simply haven’t been inspired. it turns out there’s nothing she needs to have prepared anyways, his talking takes over the whole of the conversation, as though she were going to disappear at any moment. she lets a silence hang as she processes all the questions that have been thrown her way. 

“rose.” she settles on finally. it’s not so far from the truth. and perhaps in the past centuries she’s used it nearly as much as her own name. the rest of the questions are given passing thoughts. she doesn’t supposed she even knows the answers to them. introspection has never been her strong suit. “i’m a sculptor.” which is neither where she’s from nor her heart’s desire, but it’s something that he can grab on to if he’s going to continue taking the lead of the conversation. she’s not opposed to it. “how do you know a person? surely more than just her wishes.”

“Rose, thats a lovely name. A name I’ll grow fonder of with each passing day.” Her voice resounded within his ears and brought him a sense of warmth and peace that he had longed for in the centuries since he had last been in love. “A sculptor. I sculpted once. I’d tell you my greatest work but you’d not believe it. Hardly unreasonable though, we’ve just met.” His eyes fixated on hers. He wanted nothing more than to hear everything about her, to know what went on behind those eyes. “I think you start there. I think you can’t know a person until you know what they want, what dreams they hold closest. I wished once to be the greatest artist ever but life didn’t have that in its plans for me.”

He sipped his drink, he let the taste roll around his tongue a bit before he swalloed it. “Is there anything you wish to know of me? I’m but an open book to one as lovely as yourself. You may ask anything and I shall answer to the best of my ability. I wish to be as honest with you as possible.”

[magnus-servus]

Lost to Time

[magnus-servus]

claudiamrshall‌:

she liked to think she wasn’t a sloppy immortal, but there was only so long you could stay in a certain place without your face starting to draw attention, people wanting to know more of a story than the half-hearted lies she spun. but she could tell when she over stayed a welcome, it would be her last night in town. she was thinking she would make her way up further north. she might as well. it was a perfect night to disappear after all, the crowd around her was so rowdy, so full of life, imprinting on her memories the perfect final glimpse. crystallize another chapter of her life in some perfect memory, and leave behind all the rest.

by the time the man sat at her table, she’d already finished her wine and resigned herself to moving on. his face was a blur, it would never be important. “greetings.” she raised her empty glass, pressed a smile to her face, “i should like to say yes, but my cup is empty.” which isn’t to say she wants it to stay that way, but she figures she’ll see what magnus does. “i’m afraid my evening wouldn’t last very long.”

"Oh, that simply wouldn’t do for such a beauty, would it? If the lady desires more wine then she has but to ask it and I will make it so.” His smile beamed wide, his purpose in life temporarily revived by the infatuation that had already begun building in his heart the moment he laid eyes on her. “I will be right back.” He finished his own glass and quickly collected her cup and returned once they were filled to the brim again.

He placed hers on the table and slid it across gently to her. “Its okay, I will accept any amount of time I get to spend accompanying you. I have lived a long life, and I’ve never seen such beauty in a woman. I would be speechless if I could stop rambling.” He took a tip from his glass. “Tell me about yourself, what is your name, where are you from, tell me all your hearts desires, tell me your deepest secrets. I want to know you.”

[magnus-servus]

Cocktails and Cocked Guns

[magnus-servus]

damionkillgrave‌:

“Lucky us,” he mumbled, the lack of enthusiasm heavy on his tongue as he finally was served his drink. He eyed it for a long moment as Magnus continued on, judging the color of it with an appalling glint. “I did hear about that…” he agreed vaguely, distracted by something floating in his drink as he held it up to the light before giving a glance to the fellow muse. “Sorry to hear it. A real loss. All those happy trees,” he added quickly when it was obvious it didn’t appear he was paying attention to the right things, only to go back to the drink in his hand and pour the top of it off into the open well from behind the counter. “She’s not that one you were going on about?” Still wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t some fever dream, but that was what living for this long got you: a basic grasp of time and reality. Hell, Magnus was more than twice his age. Couldn’t imagine standing that long; he didn’t even want to stay this long as he was.

Damion’s head was thrown to the side like a twitch of sorts, face scrunched up as Wynn immediately popped into his mind at the description the other gave. He hated that. He came here for a good time, not to be attacked. Still, it was better than admitting that he had no one. “Mmm… She’s something all right,” he finally answered with squinting eyes before taking a strong sip, already another regret added to the list. “Lord, if I fucking die from this, I’m going to be livid.”

"Fuck those happy trees. Bob was so much more than that, he could have been anyways, if he had been more dedicated.” He paused, unsure of when the last time he had seen Damion was. The 80s maybe? He had known of Patricia then and had already assumed he would be taking her on once Bob had retired. She had been young then, and so full of that youthful desire to be a part of something great. But it would have been too early for Magnus to have been going on about her. A realization hit Magnus. “If you mean her, then no. I haven’t found her yet.” Magnus was surprised to find out that there was a her in Damion’s life too, and his her seemed more complicated than artist and muse. He was a bit surprised. He was pretty sure that Damion was into men exclusively. Maybe he had misjudged him. “If you die here, consider yourself lucky. You could be living as long as me.”

[magnus-servus]

birdiedrke‌:

“your collection is for you alone. gross.” she rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop working on his phone, she figured she’d just keep scrolling through things until he asked for it back. she didn’t know the kind of conversations old guys got up to, she assumed they were mostly boring. “they’re all dicks aren’t they. don’t be embarrassed.” she didn’t even look up to see if it garnered a reaction. she only did it to rile him up, if he responded, she’d done her job. “i’m not happy!” she dropped the phone finally, slamming a hand on the table. she didn’t care about causing scenes. if his artist came over and felt the need to insert herself in the situation she doubted magnus would let it get very far. “his name, man! i want a name.”

"It isn’t gross, plenty of artists paint just for themselves.” Magnus didn’t think he had anything on his phone worth snooping through so he didn’t mind that she hadn’t returned it. “They aren’t, in fact. Its mostly portraits of...people.. throughout the years.” He was caught off guard by her creating a scene though. “Whoa, calm down. Now. I did not invite you here so you can get all weird. You’re here to help me be a better functioning person in the modern age. The questions you’re asking me are far from modern. Get your head in the game.” He sighed. “Lucius. His name was Lucius.”

[magnus-servus]

miguelxcardosa‌:

“Strangers! No, no, no! Never! Strangers do not know what strangers taste like. I am the man! The one man! It is me!” Miguel was not deterred, nothing close to it, not a single thing seeping into his ears from Magnus that would give him any yield. It was written in how he smiled back at him, practically a splash of cold water in the face of someone so deeply stalwart, resolved in his means to frown at him, and it was only more impetus for Miguel to change it. “My trojan! Your lips! They are doing the sad thing! I hate it! I will fix them!” There was no waiting, moving while he talked, both thumbs pressing into the ends of the downward mouth to force the ends up in a struggling grin. “I love it! Beauty! They want to be kissed! They are calling to me again! I hear them, my trojan,” he went on, beginning to manipulate the corners as a new voice bubbled to the surface. “‘Come, come, come. Dance with us, Back-Us! We miss you so very, very much!’ Listen to them, my trojan! They do not lie! Never! Not to you!”

"Yes Strangers!” Magnus was quickly getting over the situation. This man knew nothing of him, there was no way the man could. Magnus swiped away at the man’s hands. “Don’t... touch... me...” he paused. “What did you say?” Magnus this time took the role of offense. He grabbed Miguel’s wrist and pulled him closer. “What do you know about Bacchus? Where have we met?” He didn’t release the man’s wrist as he awaited an answer. Magnus frequently partook in celebrations of Bacchus in his younger days before the dark ages and while it was possible he may have met Miguel before, there was no way Miguel would have an intimate knowledge of him. “I want answers. Now.”

[magnus-servus]

mementomorri‌:

“my mother was an interesting woman.” she replied lightly, in explanation, finding that the more magnus spoke the less threatening he actually seemed. some of the tension she’d been holding onto since sitting down with him dropped away, easing herself off the edge she’d been on. she was paranoid these days–though no one could blame her with her past. “no, my parents were dirt poor.” the idea that they could ever afford something like this was almost laughable; benecio crane had worked three jobs to provide for his four daughters and it still never seemed to be enough. morrigan downed the rest of her beer. “it was my husband who liked clubs.” erik liked the smoke, the booze, the women. the actual music came last on the last. "i think the last time we went was when we shared a table at copacabana wit lucille ball and desi arnaz.” which would’ve been sometime back in 1992, making her age at well over the 25 she appeared to be. 

"Ah, a husband. Wheres this lucky man now?” Magnus paused. He knew there was something off about her, but now he knew she was either a muse, or had lost her mind. “You look a little young for that, given that they both died in the 80s. Whats your secret then? I wouldn’t mind looking a little bit younger myself. Getting old isn’t all its cracked up to be.” He went back to his drink, ready to discount anything else she might say unless she offered a satisfactory answer. “Very imaginative though, you almost had me for a minute there.” He could hear the artist singing away still, even though his focus had been rerouted to the companion at the bar. He wasn’t sure yet which he preferred.

[magnus-servus]

Lost to Time

[magnus-servus]

claudiamrshall‌:

it took time to adjust to immortality. settling into a body while time rushed around her, the stone in an ever flowing river. at least she had time to get to rome. she’d heard the whispers of a project, too big to be believed. entertainment for the masses. it turned out that she now had the time to watch it be built, to see how such a structure turned out. if people used it. she stood, watching the construction. could a hundred men create something beautiful. could a thousand? she missed her workshop, the neat work of one person. but she couldn’t show her face in athens any time in the next century, she might as well see how this played out.

she stood in the sun, daylight reflecting on the stone and letting the details glimmer in the afternoon. she was watching the work on a column when suddenly a gasp went up from the crowd. she couldn’t tell where she was supposed to be looking, but the expressions around her were that of people who’d just watched something horrific—a body falling was her most likely guess. the acid churned in her stomach, the question being posed was that of art over life. or was it simply entertainment. she had no answer, and little positivity to be found. at least she’d been saved the sight of another person flickering out; the sour taste of death she hoped she would never grow accustom to.

she pushed her way out of the crowd, she had little interest in staying to watch the body carried out. perhaps rome wouldn’t do after all.

Magnus had awoken a new man, an immortal, a servant of the arts. He had no recollection of what caused his fall, but he didn’t regret his death. For years he had found a bond with a man, his artistic successor, and lived a happy life with him. But that life was over now and Magnus had to move on.

The year was around 500AD. He didn’t know the exact year, it didn’t matter much to him. He was alive, and although his artist had passed, he still maintained a youthful vigor to him which he knew was good for a few decades before he would need to bond again. Tonight was his night though. He would drink and be merry amongst absolute strangers in an unfamiliar land. The tavern was full and the torchlight trembled against the walls. It was loud, he imagined a victory must have happened recently for such a celebration. This was perfect for a night of tribute to Bacchus. And while he had already started imbibing his wine, he noticed a woman who had caught his eye and left him mesmerized. He walked towards her table and sat down, a smile so bright upon his face that hadn’t been there in at least a century. “Greetings. My name is Magnus, might I have the pleasure of accompanying you this eve?”

[magnus-servus]

tomasdevisser‌:

“Lavender truly has their own mystics,” Tomas commented with a great ounce of respect for the mighty plant. It’s helped him out in more ways than one and Tomas could only hope to be able to craft dish worthy of displaying it. He shook his head quickly to clarify, “oh– no, getting lost in Paris was beautiful..” being completely forgotten in a definitive day, it was freeing. Everything he wanted from a city. “But she did introduce me to the cuisine, and I guess.. really started everything here.” He tried to find her again after moving there, long forgetting the patisserie name, and nothing ever came of his search. “Kinda I guess! Um- come visit anytime. I can- make you a custom dessert too.” It comforted him, seeing how diverse New York is to have met a wide range of people, the city more forgiving to the Dutch boy than Paris was. “Does it? What’s.. your native tongue then?”

"Well thats certainly one way to look at it. Its nice to have inspiration in something. Its so rare to find someone who wants to make art for the sake of art now rather than art for the sake of money.”  He stepped back a few steps looking the man up and down, deciding what lie he could tell to be believable here. He shifted, maybe a bit too uncomfortably. He hated denying himself, but he knew it was necessary. “Italian. The Romans were my people- my ancestors I mean obviously. So I hold a fondness for their tongue. I would very much like to see your shop though and take you up on that offer. Any other treats with lavender?”

[magnus-servus]

Cocktails and Cocked Guns

[magnus-servus]

damionkillgrave‌:

“Lord, give me strength,” he mumbled under his breath as he readjusted in his seat, now feeling unclean in the bar thanks to the description provided. “Do they serve Lysol?” Nose wrinkled, judging the place around them before sighing, crossing his arms to lean against the counter, careful to just allow the cleanest part of the edge to touch him. “I’m not a special case. It was featured in Bon Appetit magazine.” He looked at Magnus with a look of shock when it sank in that there was no notoriety behind the name to him before going on, as if saying a date would further job the memory that most likely did not exist in the other’s mind. “December of…. Two-thousand…seven? Seventeen? Seventy-one? What year is it again?” Numbers. Not his forte. What did it matter if it was just another year down the drain?

Damion’s face squinted up at the question, trying to pull something new from their last encounter. Break-up. No artist. Aspiring serial killer friend. “…I saw a pigeon with one leg yesterday. I think it was an omen.” He gave a shrug. “You? Got an artist?”

“I don’t think you’d want to drink Lysol. Then again I don’t tell you how to live your life and you don’t tell me how to live mine. I hear some people think it cures viruses. Then again, so does time, for us anyways.” Magnus listened but didn’t register much. “I’m sure it was. Probably looked right fancy in that magazine. I can assure you that it will be much less fancy here.” Magnus shifted ever so slightly towards Damion. “Bob died, you might have heard. New artist. Shes a lush, shes a flirt, and I absolutely despise her. But it keeps me young- well younger, until someone with actual talent comes along again. She was promising when we first bonded but somewhere I think she got it into her mind that loving me would make her immortal to something. You know how those mortals get stupid ideas in their heads. Anyways, you’re into omens now? Got a witchy little pagan woman as an artist or something?”

[magnus-servus]

birdiedrke‌:

“i thought you got a discount because of your modesty.” she rolled her eyes, but continued typing away. the longer they talked the more that she could go through his phone. it was cute, how little there was to find. “on the off chance a warehouse goes up in flames don’t you want to remember your work.” and it would be easier to go through a shared online folder than break into his little place. she only wanted to know what his art looked like, why all the secrecy surrounded it. “are you saying kind because you’re being nice or because you don’t remember his name?” certainly there was a tone shift for him, she’d hit a nerve without a thought, striking at the first idea that’d been presented. and lo and be hold, there was something brewing underneath. “memory doesn’t go that far back?”

Magnus rolled his eyes as well. “I’m old but sarcasm is older.” He paused to consider her question. “Thats a good point but art is so personal. What if someone else saw it? The act of another person seeing my art would ruin its magic. At least for my main art anyways. I make art for the public every now and then but my collection is for me alone. I dont understand how all this stuff works. I thought once you put something on the internet it was there forever for all to see?” He didn’t like her tone and her probing questions. “I remember every moment with him but that doesn’t mean I would share that with you. I come from a time before we had to broadcast our every thought and feeling online for everyone to experience with you. Some things are private.” He sighed. “But he was a sculptor and a painter like myself. I met him in order to ensure one of my works was completed successfully and I fell in love with the way he saw the world. Happy?”

[magnus-servus]

tomasdevisser‌:

“Is that what you call it? Lavandarius? It’s beautiful..” It was, there wasn’t too much different in the way it’s called in either French or Dutch so to hear it in yet another language, it brought ideas to his mind. “It reminds me of.. this small patisserie.. I got lost in Paris as a kid, and this lady let me sit in her shop, introduced me to the pastry, and she had such a lovely lavande garden..” guess it didn’t really matter to a stranger simple tasting it for its taste, hard to even find that feeling of nostalgia from a simple palmier. “Oh- no no kind of like.. an open kitchen concept? But bread, pastries and desserts? So you get to see the desserts made and you can sit on the bar counter to watch, and we also do customised desserts for people- those kinda things,” Tomas always got excited talking about his pride and joy, maybe to excited as he stopped himself from scaring the stranger off. “Yes! Sorry that’s what I meant um- sorry…” He had to spend some excruciating moments to even find where he left them in his pockets, finally stumbling to pick out one for him, “here.. sorry I’m still, getting used to English.”

"Its what its called in Latin. I imagine the Romans appreciated it as much as we do today in order to give it such a magnificent name.” Of course, Magnus knew first hand but that was his secret to keep and needn’t be thrust upon this random new acquaintance. “Getting lost in Paris sounds terrifying as a kid though, I imagine you were scared and alone and her kindness helped to calm you.” Magnus listened as the man described his shop. “So its like one of those ice cream parlors but with pastries and desert snacks? Sounds delicious and absolutely decadent.” Magnus accepted the card and looked it over. “Its okay, English wasn’t my native tongue either. It grows on you though.”